I know I shouldn't do this. I know I shouldn't and I know this isn't a good idea because with this I now have four stories I am watching over. -_- I'm insane. But I wanted to throw this one out before my school year starts because I don't know when I'll be able to talk myself up to posting it again.
Hiei and Kurama were my first ever yaoi pair I loved, and though they've lost popularity, they're still my favorite. Most of my doujinshi's are HieixKuramas, also, so… Hahaha. I promised myself that I would post at least one fic with a HieiXKurama pairing.
Chapter 1: In The Dark.
I tap the top of my crayon absentmindedly as I stare down at my sketchbook. Locking eyes with me was a picture I had drawn of the Girl in the Walls.
Her eyes were a crimson red, the color of fresh blood, but her hair was a frosty blue that reminds me of winter. The kimono she always wears is also a light blue, very close to the shade of her hair.
The crayon I'm holding splits in two and with a frustrated sigh, I take the sharper edge and begin coloring the Girl in the Walls' eyes.
"Hiei," comes an even, smooth voice. I don't need to look up to see who it is and I don't bother to greet him because I know he has that look on his face that I always hate. It's not smugness, or pomposity, it's actually quite close to sympathy and it pisses me off because it reminds me of who I am.
Hiei Jaganshi. Paranoid Schizophrenic.
He isn't phased that I ignore him—ten months of me ignoring him desensitized him to the cold shoulder—and he pulls up a small chair and sits next to me. This is when I look up at him. I only do this because he looks hilarious when he sits down with me. Because I'm so tiny (four-feet, ten inches), I sit at a child-sized table when I want to draw.
Minamino is almost six feet and the chair he's sitting in is about two and a half feet from the seat to the floor, so his knees comically end up at his chest when he sits down at this table. The table, I believe, was ordered for me to make my stay in the Styx Asylum more comfortable. He realized that I was much more eager to sit down and draw by myself than chat or go outside with the others and decided to accommodate that fact. I know Minamino only did it because he was trying to get closer to me.
I quickly drop my eyes to my drawing and resume coloring.
"How are you?" he asks.
"Fine," I say, the easiest answer.
"What are you drawing?"
"The Girl in the Walls."
"Ah, I see."
"Mm-hm." A reach for the plastic bag of crayons with my non-dominant right hand and Minamino pushes the bag closer to me. I take another crayon before I continue drawing. He leans over a little and his long, fine, red hair spills from over his shoulder and almost touches the table.
"Can I see it?" he asks.
I pause, wondering if it would be all right. A second later, I decided it wouldn't be too harmful so I slide the sketchbook over to him.
"Thank you," he says politely as he lifts the artwork to his eyes.
"You're a very good artist, Hiei," he comments.
"I could do better if I had some pencils, or a pen would be nice," I say, "Crayons break too easily." I point at a small pile of today's ruined crayons.
"No, no, Hiei, we can't give you pens," Minamino says shaking his head. He hands me back my sketchbook. "Don't you remember what happened the last time we gave you pens?"
I stabbed a nurse.
"No," I lie, taking a blue crayon from the plastic bag and beginning to color in The Girl in the Walls' kimono.
"You don't want to try drawing something else, Hiei? It must be boring always drawing one subject."
"I draw the Man with the Axe sometimes." I color slowly. Minamino usually stays a while and I hate it when I run out of things to draw while he's here because it makes me focus on him more.
"The one under your bed?"
"You draw him differently every time."
"Yeah, because I can't see him very well."
"Because he's under your bed?"
"It must be scary."
"No. As long as I don't try to look at him, he won't hurt me."
He sighs. "Hiei," he says in that tone that always irks me. Impulsively, I press the crayon harder against the paper and I feel the wax beginning to give in my tight grip.
"The Man and The Girl aren't real, Hiei," he says slowly, as if saying it that way would help me. "I've already told you that."
I jerk my head to my left side a little; a habit I do when I feel angry or under pressure. He recognizes the gesture automatically and he knows that he's taken a pin to me.
"They're just illusions," he continues. I can tell he's unsatisfied with me, unsatisfied because ten months of therapy had gone fruitless and I'm still crazy.
"Yeah," I say, lying to his face because I'm thinking it'll get him angry.
He sighs, irritated a little, but not enraged as I had hoped. I had never seen him get angry at me. His face never falters—never deviates from Shuichi Minamino, the Soft-Spoken Therapist—and it drives me crazy because I can never tell what he's thinking unless he speaks to me (usually.) For all I fucking know, he's as psychotic as I am. Hell, maybe he is. Maybe he's a sadistic pedophile that shoots himself up with speed, weed and birth control to get his high and at night he goes out to kidnap children and slash their faces open with a potato peeler, laughing and singing Mary Has a Little Lamb as he goes.
But what do I know? I'm just a paranoid schizophrenic.
"Shuichi!" one of the nurses call and my therapist turns to her. "Your mother is on the phone."
Ah, yes, his mother.
"Thank you," he says, getting up to answer the call immediately because he's a pansy-ish, Momma's boy. "I'll see you in group therapy, Hiei," he says to me politely.
I nod, and tap the end of my crayon on my sketchbook again, trying to recall any other details of The Girl in the Walls' kimono. Nothing comes to me so I opted to focus elsewhere and let it come to me later.
On a spurn of new inspiration, I turned the page to expose a blank piece of paper and rummage through my crayon bag for as much black crayons as possible. I found seven and begin drawing.
I draw her face first, a long, vertical oval that takes up most of the page. Then I draw her open mouth that almost stretches to the very end of her chin. Her teeth are straight and her eyes are sunken in and all white and blank. Her eyebrows are thin lines above her eyes. Her nose is tiny, like the Girl in the Walls', and her nostrils are small too. I draw deep wrinkles on her face, especially around her gaping mouth. I don't forget her tongue and uvula wiggling in the back of her throat. Her neck is ludicrously small in this picture, but that doesn't bother me. Her hair is long and messy, as I will always remember it, and I use quick, heavy strokes to achieve the effect I wanted.
By the time I finished, I had used up five crayons (two of which were mostly sacrificed in her hair) and with the remaining two I begin writing in big, bold letters at the bottom of the page,
YOU SHOULD HAVE NEVER BEEN BORN!
My mouth quirks. I will always remember those words.
Smiling and admiring my work, I sit back and whisper to her in my head.
They say the first step in recovery is admitting you have a problem-
—and that is why Styx's Asylum has group therapy. So that all us psychos can collectively admit we have problems—
—in the midsts of others who can understand a small fraction of our pain plus Minamino who thinks he can help us.
He sits in front of me. He always sits in front of me because I'm the only one in his little group who isn't even remotely better during his stay and so he wants to keep an eye on me.
Sensui, who suffers from Dissociative Identity Disorder (formerly known as Split Personality Disorder) and constantly mutters to himself and his seven personalities, sits on my left. Shizuru, an anorexic nervosa with a habit of chewing her nails until they bled, sits on my right. Sensui is about thirty-nine and Shizuru is twenty-one. They're the only two people whose names I bothered to remember because they sit next to me. That, and Sensui serves as a human television for my entertainment when he argues with his personalities and Shizuru often pushes her dessert to me when we sit together at the lunch room.
Minamino starts the circle from his right and I promptly zone out as everyone else begins talking.
I look to the direction where I heard my name.
"Yeah?" I venture out. Everyone was looking at me. It was my turn to speak.
"Is there something you want to share with us today?" Minamino asks.
"I'll pass." It was my usual answer.
"Nothing at all?"
"Are you sure?"
"Positive." He's assertive today, but he acknowledges my impulse to socially isolate myself and moves onto the next person. I concentrate on the color of the walls (an exhilarating, phenomenal, painfully plain white) until the end of group therapy.
"Hiei, wait a moment please," Minamino calls me while everyone was heading back to their rooms. He pulls out a small package from his labcoat and holds it out to me.
"What's this for?" I ask, staring at it.
"It's your birthday, isn't it?"
Oh, so that's what he was trying to get me to say.
"Yeah, I guess," I say.
"You're nineteen today. I wish you could have told the group, they would have liked to sing you a song."
"That's idiotic. I would have killed myself first." I knew that wasn't the smartest thing to tell a therapist, but I went for it anyway.
"Oh, I think you value your life more than you say you do." Minamino presses the present into my hands.
"What makes you say that?"
"Because you would have let her kill you back then." He smiles, the same smile he always smiles, and I feel my stomach twist with anger.
This is why I don't like talking to him. He's much more cunning than he appears.
I stare down at the present as he turns to leave.
My room is always dark when the lights go out because I'm in the room for cutters. They don't allow windows or anything that can be shattered and used as a sharp object, save for the clear plastic above my head to let the light from the ceiling lights through, but they're much too high for me too reach. There's also the shatter-proof mirror across from my closet.
I'm looking up at the ceiling, tracing imaginary lines with my eyes.
"What's that you have, Hiei?" The Girl in the Walls asks me. I always here her voice before she comes. I sit up from my bed because I want to watch her enter my room; it's very entertaining the way she does it.
To the right of my door her red eyes appear. Her eyes always come first, like the Chesire Cat in Alice in Wonderland, and then her face pushes through the wall, then her torso with her arms beside her and finally her legs. Her bare feet make no sound as they land and she lifts her head to me. Her long, light blue hair follows the motion lazily. I like the way her hair moves, like she's at the bottom of the ocean.
"A present," I answer her, holding it up for her to see. I hadn't unwrapped it yet.
"From who?" She places her hands behind her waist.
"Odd. I thought for sure you'd throw it out."
"I would have, but I've never gotten a present before."
"But it doesn't mean anything."
"No," I lie on my back and place the present on my stomach, "it doesn't."
"Then why keep it?" She comes closer because she knows I can't get off the bed, not with the Man with the Axe under there.
"Because I'm curious." As much as I hate Minamino, I am.
"You don't want to open it?"
"What if it sucks? It's better that I keep it unwrapped and pretend it's something that I want."
"Like a case of colored pencils?"
"He's trying to gain your trust," the Man with the Axe rasps from underneath the bed. "He's planning something…"
"I know he is," I respond to the Man with the Axe. I can practically see him under my bed. Though I've always been afraid to look down for fear of being hacked to death, I've always been able to visualize the Man with the Axe, more or less. I imagine that he's lying on my side underneath my bed, the axe carefully and skillfully held between his hands. His eyes are looking forward, unwavering. His short, black hair is slick back and he wears a tattered, green hoodie. He's not too cramped underneath my small, twin-sized bed. He's only a few centimeters taller than me.
Something clatters loudly in the hallways and I jump, my eyes fixated on the door as if waiting for something to come from the darkness and take me with it. I watch. And I wait.
Nothing comes. But there is a lingering uneasiness in my stomach that makes me feel like something else is watching me, even in my small room.
"Hee hee hee!" The Man with the Axe laughs at me. "Hee hee hee hee hee! HA HA HA HA! You're funny! So funny! HA HA HA HA!"
That Saturday morning I found myself in the wide awake and staring blankly into the wall. The Girl in the Walls and The Man With the Axe have already disappeared—receding into the dark abysses—away from the sunlight.
I deftly clamber off the bed and towards my drawer to fetch today's shirt. I put it on, walk over to my bedside furniture, push away my present to show the calendar and glance at today's date. I frown at it.
Today was the day I have my biweekly one-on-one session with Minamino.
I push the present over the date once more and pull out the drawer that housed my crayon bag and sketchbook. I take both items underneath my hand and head out the door.
My day at Styx Asylum begins with breakfast. Usually I don't eat anything because I always have this nagging feeling in the back of my mind that the nurses are trying to poison me since I stabbed that nurse one time. And for the record: it wasn't my fault. That nurse was following me everywhere! He was out to get me! I swear!
He deserved it!
But back to my morning: I eat breakfast, Shizuru gives me her cinnamon bun or chocolate milk (the treats are different every day) and I retreat into the recreation room to draw on my table.
No one has bothered me since my little "incident" with the nurse and no one likes sitting at my table because it's too short. This all suits me just fine because I don't trust anyone. As a note, I don't eat what Shizuru hands me because I trust her not to poison me, I just stopped caring because here and there I get a little suicidal and I don't mind a having a little toxin flowing through my veins.
I spend most of the day drawing and every Tuesday and Saturday I have a one-on-one session with Minamino from 1:00 PM to 2:00 PM, which are the two hours of my week I look forward to the least.
I go to the cafeteria for lunch at 12:00 PM and dinner is at 5:00 PM. Group therapy is from 7:30 PM to 8:30 PM. Between those times, all the patients have free time, where we can go outside to play basketball or soccer. There is also the recreational room where there is TV, pingpong, playing cards and several game machines. We're always watched of course, by nurses armed with sedatives and a few security guards.
All my free time is spent drawing in the rec room or my room (or sometimes watching TV, but mostly drawing.)
Naturally, I go through a lot of sketchbooks (and crayons, which get replaced daily.) I hoard plastic water bottles underneath my desk and wash out my creations (I use washable crayons) in my plastic trashcan late at night every Saturday so that they don't pile up and Minamino can't find them. It would be easier if I could just burn them, but a little… unpleasant incident occurred. As the nurses don't trust me with sharp objects, one can imagine the massive uproar that ensued when I asked for a lighter. The nurse I asked immediately assumed I was set on an insanity-induced task of burning down the asylum and promptly injected me with a rainbow of meds that left me unconscious for several hours. I woke up in one of the rooms I had dubbed the "Psycho Room" because it was all padded and usually used when the patients go through a psychotic episode.
Minamino comes in seconds later and apologizes for the nurse. At least, I think he was apologizing. Honestly, in the state of mind I was in, I probably couldn't even locate my own foot. I assumed Minamino was expressing his regret for the nurse's actions because that's the kind of guy he is.
All right, that's enough side-tracking.
At 9:00 PM, I head to the common bathroom by myself. Everyone has already bathed earlier and I'm alone. They don't let anyone have their own bathroom because suicidals might get some ideas about drowning themselves. There is also a nurse or two skulking around the corridor to time our baths. If we take longer than usual, or if they feel that the patient looks... desperate... they won't let them in.
By 9:15, I'm done and I walk back to my room and I'm just in time to meet The Girl in the Walls and the Man with the Axe.
And that's how my day usually plays out.
I yawn as I stare at the clock. 1:34 PM. And, as always, those thirty-four minutes had passed by excruciatingly slow.
I hear Minamino lean forward and that makes me look at his chair, which is a lovely black chair with wheels and made from the skin of a dead cow. He's sitting behind a nice desk with papers stacked neatly on either side of him. A clipboard is in his hands and he keeps writing. What the hell is he writing about? His pen never stops moving during our one hour sessions and it bothers me because of the skritch skritch sound it makes and because it makes me wonder what can he see beyond me yawning. Other than the fact that I'm tired that is. I spent my night contemplating why Minamino would bother to send me a present. The Man With the Axe, of course, had been no help at all and had taken it upon himself to inform me of all wretched ulterior motives behind a simple gift.
"He's trying to gain your trust!"
"It's a bomb!"
"It's a monster!"
"It's a trick!"
"It's a knife!"
"A knife?" The Girl in the Walls repeated. "Why would Minamino give Hiei a knife?"
"To kill himself with! So that way he doesn't have to do it himself! HA HA HA!"
His dead cow creaks again as he crosses one leg over the other. I continue working with my sketchpad. Minamino lets me draw here because he thinks it makes me more comfortable. I think he thinks he can get some sort of window into my soul by observing what I draw.
Dumbass. I have no soul.
"Do you like your present, Hiei?" Minamino asks.
"I don't know. I haven't opened it yet."
"Hm?" He tilts his head to one side in curiosity and I hear his pen moving along the paper. "Why not?"
"It's more entertaining if I leave it a mystery."
He smiles. Skritch skritch skritch. "I suppose so. I heard a quote once: 'Magic is anything science hasn't ruined.' But I think you'll like the present I picked. You should open it."
"I'll think about it."
"That's good." Skritch skritch.
My arm is moving vigorously across the paper and this rouses his curiosity.
"What are you drawing, Hiei?"
"Nothing special." I let a twisted smirk form on my lips as I look down at my emerging art.
He is interested now, maybe because I hardly ever smile.
"Can I see it when you're finished?"
"No." He begins writing on his clipboard enthusiastically and to suppress the insanity the stupid noise of his pen was causing, I draw faster. As I continue scribbling, Minamino goes on with the session.
"Hiei, can you tell me more about your friends?"
I don't answer. He already knows about the Man with the Axe and the Girl in the Walls. He's just asking again to make conversation.
"What about your mother, Hiei? Do you want to talk about her?"
I frown. "Why would I want to talk about her?"
Minamino leans forward (his dead cow creaks again) before he speaks, "Because you killed her."
"She tried to kill me first," I pointed out.
"You should have never been born!"
His eyes are probing, searching for body language that would give away weaknesses. To show that I am not afraid of him, I return his gaze and keep everything relaxed and still.
"Do you think she was evil?" Minamino asks.
"Would I have purposely killed her if I didn't think she was a bitch?"
He chuckles. "I suppose you're right."
Skritch skritch skritch the pen goes. My head jerks to my left in irritation. Minamino looks up, eyes not missing the movement, and I hate myself for letting that slip.
"Hiei, may I see your sketchbook for a moment?" He holds his hand out.
"I won't look at the picture you're drawing."
I don't trust him, anyway. I don't move. He's in his element in this forest green-walled office with his dead cow chair. I don't want to give him anything he can use to pick at me.
Minamino smiles off my coldness, places the clipboard down and laces his hands in front of him.
"It's just that I've always noticed something about the Girl in the Walls you speak of."
I try my best to make sure my face doesn't give away the fact I'm surprised. Deep down, I'm scared. I don't want him to get so close to me.
"I've noticed that the color you use for her eyes is very similar to your eye color." His smile is just the same as it always is, delicate, but I can tell…
I can tell that he's excited.
…because he's got a footing in me.
"Is she you?"
I don't say anything.
His eyes narrow almost imperceptively, and his smile widens just a little bit.
My hands are sweaty and itching to wrap around his throat and make him shut up.
"Then perhaps she represents your mother? Or father maybe? I'm positive that The Girlis a one of those people. But I'm willing to bet she has elements of both you and your mother together, mostly. After all, your mother and yourself are probably the most influential forces in your mind. You don't seem to be the type of person who would bother making a hallucination after your father left. You're much too cold."
This is the most he's ever spoken about my family history within a week. He knows it bothers me, and now he's pinning me to his stupid, fucking, walls with it.
Minamino leans forward, his chin on his laced hands. He's anxious, excited, watching me intently. His expression is morphing, but only very subtly, my eyes are only barely able to trace the tiny nuances of this new expression. But it's his eyes that have changed the most. His green eyes almost appear to be glowing in the sunlight pouring into the room. He's never been this forward before, never looked at me in such a way I felt like one of those cockroaches I step on in my room.
I can tell he's been thinking about this for some time. He was just waiting, observing.
"What is she like, Hiei, the Girl in the Walls?"
I can't look away from him. I can't. I don't like the look in his eyes, but I can't look away. I don't like it I don't like it I don't like it.
Stop looking at me!
It's like cold fingers are gently squeezing around my heart. I can't shake him off.
"Is she unkind to you?" His eyes search my face. "No, she isn't, is she? Then she serves as a comfort measure for you. I'm guessing she started as an imaginary friend, with constituents stemming from a need to have a soothing feminine figure in your life and friendship. It's perfectly understandable that you would search for that kind of relief, after all, your mother never loved you." Minamino pauses. "Is that why you're so adamant to acknowledge her as a person instead of a figment of your imagination—"
"She's real!" I shout, too disarrayed in his prying to stop myself. "I'm telling you, she's—"
The satisfied gleam in his eyes dies down after a few moments and Minamino glances at the clock. He smiles, his expression is the same as it always is. "That's enough for today, Hiei. I'll let you leave early." His pen is already working over his paper.
Skrtch skrtch skrtch, skrtch, skrtch.
I can only imagine what the hell he was writing about after this.
I have never once allowed myself to show that much emotion, at least not around Minamino where he can see and pick and meddle with them.
I hate him. I hate his stupid smile and eyes and his controlled voice that hides so much it makes me want to go crazy.
…Oh wait. I already am!
Minamino's session drained me and I quickly seek sanctuary in my room even though it was the most obvious place for me to hide.
I wish it was night already. The Girl in the Walls and the Man with the Axe only come out at night. In the daytime, I was on my own. Me, my sketchbook and my bag of crayons.
I lie on my stomach on my bed, my sketchbook open to my latest creation, the one I was drawing in Minamino's session.
It's a picture of Minamino, incidentally. It was my first venture into a new subject. And despite the killer psychoanalysis that stupid therapist had put me through just minutes ago, I had to admit I did a pretty good job of drawing him.
I drew Minamino with fox characteristics. There were large fox ears on his head the shade of his hair and a fluffy tail flowed behind him. It was a little too cute for me given my current circumstances so I had drawn his eyes sharper, his mouth wider and grinning to show off two neat rows of sharp teeth. To top it all off, I threw in two long, large devil horns behind his ears and a dark-red pitchfork in his left hand.
I think the likeness is uncanny.
"Is something wrong, Hiei?" The Girl in the Walls asks.
I have my back to her. "It's nothing," I mumble. I didn't want her to worry.
"Minamino said something, didn't he?"
I hear the Man with the Axe chuckling below and I literally lock my neck in place to keep my habitual twitch from giving me away, but the Girl in the Walls isn't fooled.
"What did he tell you?"
"It's nothing," I repeat, louder this time because I really don't want to talk about it. I don't like talking about mine and Minamino's talks with her, I find that would be insulting her.
The Girl in the Walls moves in front of me, her deft movement as if she were gliding. Her hands touch my face, her thumbs smoothing over my eyelids and suddenly the anxiety in my stomach ebbs away.
She was everything to me. From the day she first danced into my life, we had always been together. I need her. I don't want anything else if I could just have her.
I will never let Minamio pry her from my grasp.
Because I'm such a social recluse, every once in a while the nurses usher me out to the yard to play with the other patients. Usually, I wouldn't let them, but I feel like avoiding Minamino, so I go out and hide in the trees today. He always finds me though, despite his prissy appearance, Minamino is pretty good at Hide-and-Seek.
Freaking stalker… May he'sthe thing that stalks me at night…
Tucking my sketchpad underneath my left arm, I run towards a tree full speed, three feet before I crash into the trunk, I leap. I jab the tip of my shoe into a nook in the bark and with my right arm I grab the nearest branch with ease and pull myself on top of it.
I climb higher, towards the thicker branches in the back of the tree and settle myself on it. I sit with my legs out in front of me, my sketchpad on my lap. I wish that they had let me take out my crayon bag, but they were afraid that I'd bring in weapons, cocaine or dead animals or something inside it.
I press my back against the bark and breathe in the fresh air. I stretch. It felt good to be outside once in a while. The wind ruffles my hair gently and I succumb to the sudden urge to nap.
"It's dangerous to be sleeping in such a high place, Hiei."
I scrunch my eyelids shut. Go away, I wanted to say to him. I lie still, hoping that he would think I didn't hear him.
"I know you're awake, Hiei."
Bravo! Once again, Minamino's perceptive and well-trained stalker skills have worked out the truth!
Knowing it was futile to resist, I turn over and look at him.
"Don't you want to play basketball with the others? I know you're very short, but I don't think you'll have a problem."
Meaning he saw my jump earlier. Just how long had he been watching me?
I don't say anything to him.
"You should come down, Hiei. You might slip and fall."
I throw him the most obvious "You're an Idiot" look I can muster. Unfortunately, this distracts me from balancing my weight properly on the branch and I slip.
Instead of ground, I feel someone catch me. Looking up, I see it's Minamino. He's smiling.
"I told you you'd fall," he says.
I frown at him, kick and squirm out of his grasp and plant my feet on stable ground. I begin to stalk off in the other direction until Minamino's voice stops me.
"You seem to be quiet adamant in avoiding conversation with me, Hiei," he said. I keep walking. I am not going to be dragged into his sick little soul-prodding again. At least not out here where I can run from him—
Something grabs my arm, whirls me around and presses me against a tree. I wince as the tough bark bites into my skin. I look up and see the emerald green of Minamino's eyes.
He is dangerous, my mind says.
"Let go of me," I say outloud, hoping that I didn't give away that the look in his eyes was scaring me. It was the same look as yesterday, like he was going to eat me.
"Then free yourself," Minamino retorts smartly, holding that disarming, unnerving smile. He leans down, feeding my irrational notion that he really was going to devour me entirely.
I can't help myself, I shut my eyes and hope the first bite he takes kills me quickly.
Instead, though, I feel his surprisingly soft lips press against mine and I feel my entire world spin out of control.
Minamino is… he's… he's kissing me.
 "Girl in the Walls." She's supposed to be a messed up version of Yukina. The name comes from Supernatural.
 "The Man with the Axe." He's a man from an urban legend.
Both these people are hallucinations from Hiei's mind.
To clarify, in Hiei's last session with Shuichi, it IS more like Minamino's expression rather than what Minamino is saying that bothered Hiei the most. The details into Hiei's illusions are still quite superficial.
Yeah, this first chapter's pretty long, but I'm not so certain this is how the next chapters are gonna be. -_-;;;;
Am I review-worthy?
-See you all next chapter!