Bloodlines, Part 1: Pursuit

By Soyokaze

AN: I’ve taken this whole thing down because I’ve revamped it a bit in the past months. There are only little changes here and there, but I felt that I had to revise it before I finished it. To all of you who’ve been waiting for me to finish this damn thing, I’m sorry I’m taking so long!

It was summer time in the Ningenkai. A radiant sun shown down through the crisp air and heated the smells of fresh foliage and rain that lingered in it, and humidified the city below. Skyscrapers and apartment buildings reflected golden thousand- fold. The mountains looked over the city constantly, like giant deities with robes of greenery. They cast no shadow, as they constantly seemed to in winter, when they wore crowns of ice and the wind sang songs in the endless labyrinths that wove through the great hills. From the perspective of the city, they wavered and trembled in the heat, seeming as though at any moment they could melt or fade.

The fire youkai half of jaganshi Hiei, though, was thriving in the sweltering hot. The weather beat down on him from the skies, through the trees and their huge, soft leaves, and energized him. The forests around Genkai’s temple reminded him greatly of the mighty jungles of the Makai. Trees stretched up to the skies like they were trying to beat down the sun, and reached out to strangle each other with thick, fleshy vines.

He leapt from tree to tree, wallowing in it, and fleeing his hunters with a grin on his face. Ningenkai did have its good points, he supposed. And in winter it was no different. The koorime in him loved the snow and freezing rain, and the brisk air, and gray clouds circling in the sky. He did not know which he enjoyed more.

Though he was enjoying himself, the fun of the situation did not change the danger of it. He had known that a group of about three was and had been following him since he had left Makai. From recent rumors he’d heard being spread, he thought he had figured out why. Like every other remnant of his past that had been delved up by an unwise youkai, barring his twin sister, this part of it was causing nothing but inconvenience to him. He’d originally intended to check up on his twin on his day off, but he had decided to lead them away from the temple, in case they posed any irregular threat.

They apparently still thought they were shrouded from his awareness. Stupid youkai, he smirked, as he picked up each of their ki signatures following about fifty feet behind him. They practiced stealthy, soundless moves characteristic of a rei ryoushi, but the simple fact that they chose not to abandon the tactics showed their ignorance of his discernment. The ningen sun fed his ki, but the pursuit was quickly growing boring. The fire youkai decided to have a little fun, and suddenly reversed the direction in which he was heading. His speed got him behind his trackers before they even recognized that he was no longer in front of them. Red eyes narrowed as he attempted observation of his hunters, but in the dim shadows of the lower forest, all he could make out were tall, lithe figures with identical spiked hair. Before colors or distinctions registered, a large sword flew through the air and speared the fire youkai through the stomach.

Hiei was so surprised that he stumbled and gasped, a red stripe of blood staining the alabaster skin of his arms as he clutched his ribs in pain. His attackers had not even turned, how could that be? Gathering his wits, he ripped the sword from his torso, seizing a scream of pain between his teeth, and threw it to the floor. The fire youkai then fled in a blur of black before the full effects of the wound could hinder him.

One of the youkai spun, and ran to retrieve the sword, cursing and swearing in two different demonic languages. He slapped the sword to the ground in an attempt to wipe the blood from it in the coarse, dry grass, and succeeded in smearing the blood on the ground and the ground on the sword. Cursing again, he sheathed it at his back with the sharp scratch of metal against wood, and went back to his two companions.

Deeper in the same ningen forest, an experienced swordsman and a traitor to her race discussed their next course of action.

“I can sense the boy near us. The girl as well, but not as strongly,” a deep, pleasant voice announced, as the two sat together on a fallen tree trunk. The woman next to the owner of that voice looked dreamily out on the landscape, blue eyes screening it without really seeing it. An icy ki flowed from her.

“I can hear her sing.” The woman closed her eyes, looking in utter ecstasy. “What a beautiful voice.”

“She takes after you, itooshi,” the man whispered warmly next to her. The smile on the woman’s face widened.

“I can’t believe it, you know,” her ethereal voice whispered back. “I’ll speak with her.”

In a second, they were gone.

Bright morning sun shone in the topmost open window of the Minamino/ Hatanaka home, warming the interior with quiet radiance, as if it was wary of awakening the occupant of the room. The sunlight fell over the carpet in a golden oblong shape, climbing the bed sheets and soaking them with warmth, and spilling over the figure tangled deeply in those sheets. If Kurama had been in youko form, his fox ears would have twitched, half in irritation, half in ecstasy. One vivid green eye opened to the giant fiery sun, peering out in sleepy half-awareness, and then lazily decided to close, thanking Inari for ningen Saturdays.

“Ohayou, Shuuichi!” a pleasant female voice called from the lower story. Again, if Kurama had mysteriously decided to take his youko form, his silver fox ears would have perked up in irritation. Kurama mumbled an incoherent reply, with fervent hopes that whoever it was would just leave him to sleep for a few more hours. Those hopes were dashed, however, as the same voice repeated his name, reiterating with, “It’s time to get up, musuko!”

“Doushite, kaasan?” he called back, with as much energy as he could muster, voice drunken and heavy with drowsiness. Soft footsteps ascended the staircase, and gentle knuckles rapped on his door thrice.

“Gomen, Shuuichi. Kazuya has that lunch date today and we have to be ready.”

Kurama huffed irritably, reaching a long finger into his bright red mane and itching his scalp. “Aa, kaasan,” he replied, untangling his legs from the green sheets covering his bed and swinging them over the edge. He stretched out across the bed ferally, his tired bones and muscles popping and stretching, and let a gargantuan yawn. Hearing his mother gently knock the door once more, he repeated louder, “Aa, kaasan!”

“Aa, Shuuichi. Breakfast in fifteen minutes.” Then his mother descended the staircase again, light feet thudding on the carpet. His stepfather had a business luncheon, and his family was expected to attend. Kurama disliked those kind of functions, in which many high business officials and their families would sit at various tables and eat food that sported presentation rather than taste while some higher officials spouted statistics from up on a podium. He would normally sit in a chair next to his mother making small talk while the younger Shuuichi sat on the other side of him, looking cute. Unfortunately, Kurama himself had passed the age where he could just sit and look cute, but he was still able to grin and bear it and somehow stifle the urge to giggle when he thought of how all those people thought they were up and above everyone else (excluding Kazuya, of course) when the eighteen year old in the corner was a half-demon who fought against evil at least once a month.

He grabbed a pair of khaki trousers and a dark blue sweater from the top of his dresser, and headed to the bathroom. Breakfast? She woke him up to go to lunch, why would they need breakfast? Oh well. He dismissed it as one of the lesser mysteries in life and twisted the faucet of the bathtub a half turn, dipping his slender fingers under the water. He pulled a clean towel from the cabinet and set it on the bathroom counter with his clothes, covering his mouth as he yawned again, and then set to brushing his teeth while the water warmed.

How long had it been? About three and a half years since their last big assignment, as he figured. The Tantei had not been overly busy, a few small, fairly easy missions, many of which he had not even been involved in. Kuwabara’s and Yusuke’s powers had grown so that they could handle many of the obstacles that Makai threw at the Ningenkai, and sometimes even Kuwabara was not even necessary. Though it was Yusuke’s certified occupation, Kuwabara had drifted back into a normal life, attending a university and making moderately good marks, as he heard. They still kept in touch.

Hiei had been busy with Mukuro’s patrols. He’d made an appearance at Yusuke and Keiko’s wedding a couple of years ago, and Kurama had seen Hiei on Mukuro last birthday, when he’d been blasted clear out of the Makai after making the battle god angry. Of course, Kurama had helped Hiei with his problem and sent him on his way, and otherwise, Hiei had seemed happy. Kurama was glad his partner was happy.

He cupped his hands under the spigot and caught some water, and then splashed the cold liquid in his face to wake himself up. The water tingled as it ran down his face, but it did succeed in raising his spirits. It dripped from his bangs and washed sleep from his green eyes, reminding him he had a new day to look forward to.

Then Kurama suddenly realized the tingling in his face was not due to the water. A familiar ki was spreading in the air, and it shocked Kurama as he recognized who it was. Leaving the bathtub filling with water, he rushed back out into his bedroom. He did not have to look far.

“Hiei!” Kurama rushed forward as he saw his best friend stumble into the room. As his hand steadied Hiei’s torso, he felt it moisten and his heart skipped a beat.

“Stop, Kurama,” the fire youkai muttered, trying weakly to push him away. Kurama frowned, his brow furrowing with concern.

“At least let me heal you, Hiei- stop-” Kurama tried to protest as Hiei pulled away from him, leaving his hands covered in blood. The small youkai was unable to stand up straight, and stood hunched, clutching his stomach. In the dark cloth of Hiei’s cloak, the only hint of blood was a glistening in the morning light. His eyes were still sparking with their bloody opalescence despite the level of pain he was obviously in. He backed towards the window, breathing labored and measured.

“I don’t have much time- they’re following-” A deep breath. “I need you- I need you to watch over Yukina for me.”

Kurama’s eyes widened. “What- Hiei-”

“Just- just do it for me. Go about everything else as if- as if you never saw me. And don’t follow,” he said, holding up a hand to stop the youko. “I know I can- I can trust you.”

With one last breath, Hiei flitted into the air and out the window, leaving Kurama shocked and confused. His first impulse was to run after Hiei, to make him come back and tend his wounds.

don’t follow

Even as worried as he was, Kurama knew Hiei was a strong fighter.

He headed back into the bathroom and checked the water flow.