Thank you to thoth-moon, SPS-kun (thank you x2 for reviewing chapter 4 as well), NeonCity, and Hellwurm for reviewing.

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu Yu Hakusho; I make no profit from this story

Burning Angels
by R. M. Weiss

Chapter 6:

He set his jaw and ground his teeth as he took one shaking step forward. Sweating palms felt slick against the metal bars at his side. Shaking fingers tightened reflexively as his body swayed off balance of its own accord. Green hair was slicked to the back of his neck by sweat and pain pinched the area around his golden eyes. Itsuki growled softly under his breath before making another erratic lunge forward.

"That's good," Kamiya murmured at his side. Lightly squeezing the saiko komon's elbow the doctor urged him forward. It had been almost a month since his boss had been put into the hospital. Only a week since he had been woken up from his chemically controlled coma for the final time. In the weeks that had passed Itsuki's body had wasted away in bed, his once sleek build now too skinny and a great deal weaker than it had been before. Itsuki had agreed to physical therapy the moment he found that his legs were refusing to support his weight and for that Kamiya was grateful. He hadn't wanted to have to force the saiko komon into anything. It felt wrong. It was wrong.

Itsuki pulled his elbow from the doctor's grasp and leaned heavily against the bars in his hands. "This shouldn't be this hard. I was in-"

"You were in a coma for a month. Your muscles have atrophied. Your bones have lost some density. You can rebuild both those thing but for now you're going to need assistance."

A scowl curled the corners of chapped lips. "One month should not wreak this kind of havoc."

Kamiya's hands shot out again to catch Itsuki as he stumbled forward another step. "One month," he replied in a calm, low voice, "one month can do many things. Everyone is different. For you, muscle mass is retained through constant use. You lose it quickly if you don't exercise. It's alright though. We can fix that."

"You sound like Sensui. Always treating me like a child." The words were sharp and hit the doctor like the razor edge of a scalpel between the ribs meant to pierce the heart.

Taking a quiet breath in through his nose the brunette leaned over so it looked as if he was fixing the side of Itsuki's dressing gown. "Forgive me," he whispered as he brushed his hands against a bullet scar he knew existed beneath the thin cotton of the gown. It was just one of many but it had been one of the most deadly. Closing his eyes the doctor briefly bowed his head in respect. "Forgive me," he went on, "I know you're not a child. Accept my sincerest apologies for my insubordination, kumicho-dono."

Itsuki hissed, his breath being sucked in sharply between his teeth. "I am not-"

"Sensui is dead. You were his right hand. I speak for all the members of the Shinobu-gumi when I say you are the kumicho."

Golden eyes slid closed and Itsuki tangled long fingers in Kamiya's hair. He let the silky strands run through his fingers like water even as his nails scraped down the back of good doctor's scalp. He would allow himself this one quiet moment because he knew that no one would guess it as being anything more than a patient using his doctor to regain stability. Only Itsuki would know the treason Kamiya committed by calling him kumicho, and only the walls would bare witness to it.

"Doctor Kamiya?"

The brunette pulled away from Itsuki and gently steadied him with his hand. "Yes?" he asked, not even glancing over his shoulder at the flustered nurse who stood only a handful of feet away.

Clearing her throat the woman bowed politely. "I'm sorry but there are some men here to see you."

"I'm in the middle of a therapy session. If they could just—"

"Doctor Kamiya, it's the police."

Every muscle in his shoulders and neck stiffened even as he continued to assist Itsuki with taking another halting step. This time the good doctor looked over his shoulder at the nurse who had come to fetch him. He could have laughed when he realized who it was.

"Miss Yukina. I didn't recognize your voice. You'll have to excuse me for being brief." His voice was calm and pleasant like dripping golden honey. Reaching for his lab coat which hung over the far end of the metal bar he used the sleeve of it to hide the reassuring squeeze he gave Itsuki's hand. "I'll be with them in just a moment. If you could just watch my patient…?"

"Of course, sir." Yukina stepped forward and gently grasped Itsuki's abandoned elbow, one hand coming up to steady the man's back.

Satisfied that his boss was in good hands, Kamiya excused himself with the prompt bisque nature of any doctor and stepped out of the room. He closed the door firmly behind him and took a moment to push his hair back from his forehead into a more presentable slicked-back nature. The thirty steps to the waiting room came and went in the blink of an eye and before he had prepared himself he was asking a nurse where the police who wished to speak with him were.

The woman pointed discreetly at the three men who sat uncomfortably pressed shoulder to shoulder between a pouting toddler and aging geriatrics patient. The doctor swept his eyes over them and noted as many tiny details as possible.

The red head was the most relaxed, lounging more than sitting in his chair, a carefully neutral look on his face as he scoped the room. On his left the black haired officer all but wore a sign saying that he would rather be somewhere else. His face was guarded and he sat with his back ram-rod straight, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Kamiya almost smiled when he filed away the information—typical stances for ex-cons. Ex cons who were overconfident or overly hostile. Typical, typical, typical.

He choked on the chuckle he was about to let out.

Smirking, smoldering, eyes the color of bourbon set in a face as pale as a White Russian pinned him against the nurses' station. The doctor drew in a slip of air that hurt his lungs when he refused to let it out. Clearing his throat louder than necessary he pushed himself off the desk pressing into his back.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" he asked. "I was informed you have some questions for me."

The three shared a look before Kurama rose slowly from his seat. "We actually were hoping to talk to you about one of your patients."

"I'm sorry but you do know there are doctor-patient confi-"

"It's nothing that will infringe on those rules, doctor. We just need to know about plans for his future medical attention."

Kamiya masked his frown with a pleasant smile. A smart ex-con. He hated those kinds. "There's a conference room down the hall that we can use. However if you'll allow me to meet you there in a moment it would be greatly appreciated. I have to retrieve my patient's files."

"We haven't told you the patient's name."

Brown eyes bored holes into the man who had spoken. Kamiya made it a point to stare into Koenma's serene gaze. The man was too calm and it set every one of the doctor's instincts on high alert. He didn't like the feeling that he got from staring at the brunette's eyes. It was as if he could see right through him—like he knew all his secrets.

Kamiya nodded curtly and gestured in the direction of the conference room. "I only have one patient you'd wish to speak to me about. Please go make yourselves comfortable. I'll be with you shortly."

Koenma watched the doctor leave, the rustle of the man's white coat imprinting itself into his mind. He was given no time to linger since Kurama followed on the doctor's heels only in the opposite direction.

"You two go ahead, I have to use the bathroom," he said, gesturing for Hiei and Kurama to find the conference room. "I'll find you."

Kurama's brow furrowed slightly and he looked to Hiei for a second opinion. When he received nothing more than a quiet grunt and shrugged shoulders he nodded his agreement. "Of course, sir."

He was already walking away before Kurama finished speaking. Taking the direction the doctor had gone in he began to go over every fact he knew about "Kamiya, Minoru M.D."

He knew that the man was called Doctor within the Shinobu-gumi. That he had gained his medical degree at one of the top schools in the country. That he had graduated first in his class. He worked in the trauma center of his hospital, doubling as an emergency surgeon and regular physician.

He knew that the Doctor preferred to be called by his surname. He liked bourbon—alcohol in general. He lived in a small apartment filled with cheap furniture. His bedroom was as impersonal as a blank canvas. He liked it when someone talked dirty in his ear. He liked being stripped of control. Information like that taunted the police chief. They were things only he could know, things that could never be put on paper or filed away into a computer. It was frustrating. Very frustrating.

Koenma reached out and grasped the back of the white coat in front of him. Pushing the door to an exam room open with his shoulder he propelled both of them inside and locked the door behind them. Releasing Kamiya once the door was secure he took his time sizing the doctor up. "You never said you were a doctor."

"You never said you were a cop," was the snarled reply. Kamiya paced the room like a caged animal, his dark eyes darting left and right to find some way of escape. He was abruptly cut off when a fistful of his hair was grabbed and yanked back. He never expected the kiss that followed.

Lips met in a brutal clash of skin and teeth that bruised and cut. The edge of the exam table bit into the front of Kamiya's legs as he was slowly being bent towards it. Twisting his fingers in Koenma's hair he hissed through clenched teeth and tried to slip out of the strong embrace.

Koenma felt a triumphant grin tug at the corners of his lips as he held the struggling doctor down. Allowing the wakashu a little more room to move he ground his hips forward against the doctor's ass. He was losing himself slowly to the warmth of the body in front of him. It was better than any effect from a drink—burned more than the hot whiskey that he gulped in shots on rare occasions. For one brief moment he allowed his hand to loosen its tight hold.

The lenience was all it took to give Kamiya the time he needed. Like a snake he rolled in Koenma's embrace and elbowed the man in the ribs. He didn't give the police chief time to catch his breath either. The second Koenma was doubled over the good doctor was shoving him back and away with as much strength as he could muster.

This was how Koenma was left staring blankly at an open door with an uncomfortable tent in his pants and bruised and bleeding lips. This was how Kurama found him after fifteen minutes in which Kamiya had cleaned up and gone to the conference room.

Kurama leaned in the doorway to the exam room with an amused smile playing at his lips. "Is everything alright sir?"

The brunette flushed red and hastily straightened his clothing. "Never better. Life's a bowl of cherries, Kurama."

"Yes, sir. Of course."

"Don't start with me. I'm not in the mood."

Green eyes sparkled with mischief. "We're all waiting for you in the conference room," he said after a heartbeat, deciding to steer the subject back into safe waters. "We were getting worried so I came to look. Doctor Kamiya told me I might want to check in here."

"It's not what you think it is," Koenma sighed, raking a hand through his hair to try and fix the carefully mousse tamed locks. He swallowed hard around a knot in his throat as he forced himself to not think about just what "it" was. "It" was something he was very sure was a result of too many months without sex. That had to be the reason he had done what he had. After all, hadn't he always had a fantasy about doing something in a hospital? His mind had seen an opportunity and seized it by the scruff of the neck.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts as he followed Kurama out of the room and down the hall. Taking a seat at the conference table he gave the ex-convict a grateful nod before forcing his attention on the quiet doctor sitting across from him. He had a feeling it was going to be a long day.

Down the hall in the physical therapy room Yukina was carefully helping Itsuki bend his legs through all the usual ranges of motion. She knew she'd never be able to help him walk, even with the assistance of the bars, so instead she had focused her attention on helping ease the pain in his legs and getting the atrophied muscles used to working again.

"How does that feel?" she asked, working her fingers into the back of Itsuki's calf. Unlike the other nurses she didn't feel the same fear that they reported when working with him. He was just a patient in her mind—a man who had gone through some terrible trauma and needed as much care as he could possibly get. Kuwabara had told her about Itsuki's record, about his associations with the crime organizations in the city. It didn't scare her though. In fact she found herself feeling more compassion for the saiko komon than any of the other patients she occasionally helped outside of pediatrics.

Itsuki watched the blue haired woman's hands. He was amazed at how gentle they were—how they found every knot and kink in his muscles and deftly rubbed them away. He couldn't remember the last time that someone had done this for him. Even Sensui had drawn a line when it came to tenderness. In their line of work what room was there for such inexplicable acts of kindness?

He hissed as she hit a sore spot.

"I'm sorry, I won't do that again," Yukina said, instantly jerking her hands back and clutching them to her chest. She'd forgotten about the scars. They'd still be sensitive, especially the ones on the backs of his legs. They had gotten infected and taken much longer to heal. They probably were still pink with blood. Carefully she turned Itsuki's leg to get a better look. Touching one of the scars, Yukina frowned and traced the area around it. "This still doesn't look good." She lightly pressed her fingers to it. A hard bump—not the kind made by scar tissue—pressed back. She sat back on her heels. "Oh dear…I think…I think we should go get this looked at."

"Leave it."

Yukina jerked her head up. "I'm sorry?"

"Leave it," Itsuki replied, his teeth grit to bear the pain that lanced like molten lava down his leg. "There's something in it, leave it."

"But if there's—"

"I won't be back on bed rest!"

The loud yell and following crash brought two nurses from the other side of the room running over. Together with Yukina they helped steady the saiko komon who now lay flat on the floor, having tried to stand on a leg that could not support his weight. They cooed and whispered soothing words, recognizing the pinched expression on the man's face as pain.

"I'm going to go get a doctor. Could you two please run to the nurses' station and find me a pair of crutches?" Yukina asked the other nurses once she had Itsuki sitting in a plastic chair.

The two women murmured a quick reply and bowed politely before hurrying from the room. They were not overly concerned about their patient who was left unattended. The man had gone through enough therapy already. In fact in about five days he would officially no longer even have to come for physical therapy anymore. It was a blessing for them since they were beginning to get tired of his constant attitude.

Yukina politely excused herself once her co-workers left. "Please try not to move too much. If you get hurt on my watch Doctor Kamiya will be furious. I'll be back in a minute."

Gold eyes watched her retreating back as she left. Finally alone, Itsuki let out the low, hoarse curse he had been holding in. He dug his fingernails into the flesh of his palms as he fought off the pain in his leg. Of course there was a bullet still there. He'd felt it the moment he'd woken up. Now he devoted all his attention to it. He never noticed the brunette that walked gingerly over to him.

"Looks like you're finally awake."

Itsuki looked up. The first thing he could register was shock. Then anger. Hate. Pain. A twisted sort of amusement. He felt his lips curl into a bitter, tired smile. "I could have sworn Sensui took you down with him."

Yusuke leaned in, caging the saiko komon with his arms, grabbing the chair and nearly bending the top corners in his hands. "He certainly tried….You gave me one hell of a run."

Gold eyes burned like fire. Staring into endless brown eyes he mapped out the contours of his reflection. His chapped lips cracked and began to bleed as he sneered. Yes. This was what he needed—a fight.

He needed his blood to begin to race.

He needed to feel anger in every cell of his body.

For Sensui.

For Amanuma.

For himself.

He needed to start living again.

After all, what room was there for a broken man in his line of work?


I know I said there would be H/K in this chapter but the chapter itself started to get to long. It shall be in the next one. Thank you for reading.