The repeated clapping of lightning and roaring of thunder assailed
Kurama's responsive senses. The harsh wind numbed him with its cold 
fingers. He looked around... there wasn't a ray of sunlight nor an 
assurance of safety in this place. It was a familiar milieu. 

     It was a place where only the strong survived, and the weak were 
merely food for the strong. It rivaled hell itself with its ominous 
presence. It was a ruthless and cruel environment where only the 
ruthless and cruel had a right to live.

     It was a place he called home. 

     "I-I'm back in the Demon World?" Kurama said, not quite sure of 
what was happening. "What am I doing here? How did I...?" he 
trailed off, as his nostalgia was replaced with an urgency that demanded
his notice. 

     <A dream. It's just another dream,> Kurama thought as his 
deliberations finally clicked with the situation. <Chuuku must have 
thought that he could lull me into my own oblivion by giving me a 
three-month long sabbatical.>

     Indeed, it had been three months since Kurama had one of his queer
dreams... the last one was even literally queer. Kurama chuckled at the
thought despite of his morose surroundings. Hiei unsurprisingly hadn't 
bothered to visit him again since the fateful 'kissing' incident. The 
youko hoped that his little self-induced poke into his own manhood 
wasn't taken too seriously by the overly grave koorime.  

     The youko looked around once more. He confirmed that he was on a 
cliff overlooking the vast, majestic and awe-inspiring landscape that 
was the Demon World... the Makai. He looked over his shoulder in fear
that, any moment now, an enraged and jealous Hiei would come out of the
woodwork and cut him in half, his entrails spilling out as he fell into
the grim chasm below. He shuddered at the horrifying but admittedly
ridiculous thought.   

     <Three months... meaning it has already been five months since 
we've heard from Chuuku himself.... from the man who was once known as
Tetsuma Yoshitaka, the life-giver,> Kurama thought as his mind went
back to its original focus... while still warily looking from left and 
right for any sign of danger. <Has he now come to confront me again?>

     Even if this was a Dream World, the Makai remained a dangerous 
place, and old habits die hard... especially centuries-old habits. 
Kurama cautiously backed-up from the hazardous crag that could mean 
almost certain death with one simple push. He stared at the surounding
darkness for any movement, but he quickly realized that even though his 
sense of smell and hearing were more reminiscent of his true youko self,
his sight remained distinctly and imperfectly human. 

     Kurama sighed. <That's right... I almost lost myself there. I now
live in a human host... with human weaknesses and limitations. This
nostalgic setting almost made me forget that right now I'm....>

     "Human."

     It was said with such malice that Kurama reflexively winced. It was 
stated in such a way that it seemed that the speaker was addressing a
lowly and disgusting insect. 

     He was expecting Chuuku to be standing right behind him, the gaping
maw which was once his chest ready to suck out his youko soul out of the
human body that it had taken residence in. Finally, the broken soul
had come out of hiding and was now ready to confront the prey which he 
sought after for so long. 

     But it wasn't Chuuku.

     The statement... it was said in Kurama's own voice.

     No, not just in his voice... it wasn't in his human voice. It 
wasn't at all effeminate and gentle. Rather, it was harsh and severe...
there was a deep, unmistakable coldness to it. So much unlike his human
voice but it was still his voice. 

     It was his youko form's voice.



_________________________________________________


	
Shonen
A Yuyu Hakusho fic
By Chester Casta�eda
gab_ab@edsamail.com.ph
http://www.geocities.com/gabriel_abdiel/fanfiction.htm
http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=814171
http://rakhal.com/florestica/abdiel

Halfway through the Four Seasons arc comes the
soft-spoken Midori Ohya. 

A few more notes before proceeding:

< > indicates character thoughts
" " indicates character speech


_________________________________________________

Chapter 10: Autumn
_________________________________________________




     Kurama was now staring into his own golden eyes, his own silvery 
hair, his own cruel sneer... he was staring at his own inverse 
reflection. He was staring at himself. He was staring at his youko self.

     "Human," the specter repeated, a menacing glint in his eyes that
implied murderous intent, "disappear from my midst."

     The threat in his voice was unmistakable as he wafted gracefully 
yet threateningly within Kurama's personal space... the two Kuramas 
finally meeting face to face. 

     The face-off was brief. Youko Kurama stared in slight annoyance and
confusion as he lunged into nothingness... the 'human' Kurama had 
stepped back amidst the deadly attack, thusly falling unceremoniously 
into the darkened depths below.

     But Kurama was no fool... his body might have been weak, but his 
mind remained as sharp as it was during his days as a ruthless thief in 
the Demon World. Youko Kurama realized this as he saw his red-haired 
counterpart suddenly swing-up the crevice, sailing past him through the 
use of the ever-reliable rose whip. 

     "I'm not going to disappear from your midst," Kurama said 
resolutely as he landed safely on the cliff's base, a good distance from
his youkai self. "I will not be dictated upon by a reflection of my own 
self."

     Youko Kurama snorted derisively. "How can you be so sure that I'm
just a reflection of your own self?"

     "Because, after what I have been through all these years as a 
Spirit Detective and after certain recent, eye-opening events, I have
finally realized who I am. I know who I am and I know who I am not."

     Youko Kurama's scowl seemed to become deeper as he heard his alter 
ego's sentiment. "I am no reflection of yourself, human." He then 
immediately charged again. 

     Kurama swung his rose whip high and low in a zigzag formation, 
intending to somehow entangle this youko doppelganger by either 
binding his feet or his hands.

     Kurama's eyes widened in shock as he saw his double suddenly stop
his rush, slowing his pace down to a walk while maintaining a steady 
eye at the zigzagging rose whip. Then, with a skill born of age-old
experience, Youko Kurama grabbed the whip and sheared its thorns out 
with one hand while wrapping the smoothened vine-like weapon around the 
other.

     "Pathetic," Youko Kurama derided as he carefully cupped all of the 
sharp thorns inside his palm. "Have you really become this weak after 
mingling with these pitiable humans?" The legendary youkai thief 
narrowed his golden eyes at Kurama as he suddenly yanked the boy near
him with the rose whip. "You're nothing like me."

     Kurama nearly yelped out in surprise as he was pulled off his feet, 
flying through the air like a helpless autumn leaf that was blown away 
by a raging hurricane. <Incredible! Such strength... did I possess such
power as a youko? Or am I really that piteously weak as a human?> 

     <No! What am I thinking? I am not human... I am the youko... I am 
Youko Kurama, not this doppelganger! He's just another fantasy Kurama, 
the same as the one in my dream about Keiko and the other one in my 
dream about Hiei! I am the real Kurama!> 

     No further thoughts were aired inside Kurama's head as a face-full
of razor-sharp thorns were painfully smacked on his face as he 
approached Youko Kurama head-on. The mindless pain tore through him like
nothing he had ever felt... the pain was sharp and vivid, as if it 
didn't come from a dream. 

     <But it did come from a dream... my dream. This is just another
dream trying to confuse and manipulate me,> Kurama thought desperately
amidst the searing pain. "I will not be manipulated!"

     Despite the burning anguish from the lesions that matted his face 
in blood as thick and red as his own mane, Kurama was still able to 
concentrate enough to wrap the remaining thorny parts of the rose whip
around the 'true' youko's arm. "Don't talk as if I'm not who I think I
am. I have been through too much to not know who I truly am!"

     "You're beginning to sound like an echo, human." 

     Youko Kurama idly looked at his bound limb and sneered. "How 
typical... if I move any further to strike, my arm will be clopped off.
You, on the other hand, will remain still because if you do sever my 
limb, you'll be open for a counterattack. It's the perfect standstill 
for someone as non-confrontational as you."

     "Don't give me that... you'd probably attack the same way," Kurama
said contemptuously, because he knew that his youko self would not take 
him seriously until he made himself into a threat as great as... 
himself. 

     "You really don't know a thing," the ruthless youko condescendingly
said. "I would never attack in such a way that would compromise myself 
and give my opponent a chance to counterattack. That's ludicrous. A 
thief is ruthless, cunning and manipulative. My attack earlier, had this 
had not been a dream, should have killed you already."

     <Wait a minute... this fantasy Kurama... this Youko Kurama is aware 
of the fact that this is a dream?> Kurama thought incredulously. 

     "To fight with your opponent's well-being in mind... to have your 
legendary ruthlessness decrease as time passed by... to let yourself 
become so weak to the point that you have become more of an annoyance
than a threat... you're nothing like me." 

     Kurama stared dumbfounded at his youko self. The sheer ruthlessness
of the youkai was readily apparent, but it wasn't the reason why the 
gentler youko was left speechless. Kurama knew that somehow he should be
incensed, angered by the statements... but he wasn't. He didn't feel any 
anger nor irritation at all, even though his pride was at stake... and 
the fact had left him feeling... peculiar.

     "You have forfeited the right to be called Youko Kurama." 

     "What gives you the right to say that?" Kurama asked, but this time
with no malice in his voice, only puzzlement. It was as if he really was
curious of the answer. 

     "What gives you the right to claim something you've denied in the
first place?" Youko Kurama said, his eyes blurry and his features 
inscrutable.

     "What do you mean by that?" Kurama exclaimed in a more demanding
tone, with a hint of... fear? Was there a hint of fear in his voice?

     "Why did you not fight Shigure as your youko self? When you fought 
the demon in your human form, why did you say that you fought as your
'true' self? Shouldn't you answer those queries first before you 
question my judgment on your fitness to be called Youko Kurama?"

     But Kurama did not have any answers for those queries... because 
they were his own queries as well... questions that had nagged him since
the end of the Makai tournament. He had resolutely decided on something,
but he himself did not know what he had decided upon, try as he might. 
Why didn't he change back into his youko form altogether? Why did he 
continue to linger in the Human World? Why did he pass up a perfect 
opportunity to continue his old life after he was forcedly separated
from it? 

     "This isn't the first time you've dreamed of this," Youko Kurama
said. "Before you had your confrontation with Shigure for the first 
time after many centuries, you've been dreaming this dream... you and 
me, as separate entities, facing-off against each other in a fight to
the death. This isn't as symbolic as you'd like to think it is."

     Youko Kurama then bit the bullet as he let the sharp, thorny 
whip dig deep into his arm. Kurama let out a silent scream as he felt
his youko self's sharp claws rip his chest apart, making his already
palpitating heart race amidst a geyser of blood.  

     The cruel youko stopped short from ripping Kurama's heart out
altogether when he felt his arm get violently skinned. He bit his lip as
he felt the burning torture, exposing canines that painfully punctured 
his lower lip as tissue and muscle were exposed from his profusely 
bleeding forearm. 

     "It's you who don't understand... you're just like Yomi," Kurama 
rasped as he struggled against his failing breath, his vision blurring 
several times. "I'll tell you now as I had told Yomi before... I fought 
as myself. This is what makes up my identity now... I am a youkai yet I 
choose to live as a human... this is the decision I stand by." 
 
     "And to claim yourself as a youkai while you live a human's life
makes it all right? You fool!" Youko Kurama spat as he winced in unsaid
agony. "This is the greatest tragedy for one such as a youko." 
     
     "I don't see the tragedy," Kurama said honestly as he recognized
the glint in his inverse reflection's eyes... it was a malicious glint.
He warily backed away, bracing himself for anything.

     "Well then... I have this to say. If you still think that you are 
I and I am you, then you will see and understand the tragedy your 
decision has made of your life."

     With that, no more words were necessary. With the swiftness of 
claws and the skillfulness of hands amidst mutual pain and agony, each
struck their final blow... two equal halves destroying the whole.



     
***




     Kurama's eyes widened... fright, alarm and a whole other menagerie 
of feelings and emotions engulfing him as he woke up from his weird...
for lack of a better, descriptive term... dream.

     At least, that was how Kurama usually woke from one of his recent 
fantasies of sorts... it was how he hoped he had awoke from his latest
dream. But it wasn't the case.

     After waking up from his latest dream, Kurama felt... empty. 
He felt alone... not in the sense of longing, but in the sense that he 
was alone per se. He didn't feel lonely. It was just a fact that he 
addressed... he was alone. But most of all the youko felt numb... there 
was an absolute lack of feeling in him. And it scared him... or he felt 
that he was supposed to feel scared, if 'felt' was the word for it.    
    
     Perhaps it was just his way of reacting to his latest whimsy... he
didn't know how to react to it. He didn't know what to feel about it. He
just felt... nothing. For a change, he now knew how Chuuku usually felt
for the remainder of the non-entity's non-life.   

     Kurama felt so empty that he didn't notice the blood staining his
pristine white sheets. "Blood?" he said, surprised by the calmness of 
his own voice. 

     He frowned in irritation... a curious reaction when one considered 
the situation he was in, but he digressed. This lack of feeling in him 
was grating his nerves and testing his patience. Confusion and anger was 
better than the numbing feeling he had, so the sudden feeling of 
annoyance was a welcome change.

     His typical dithering thoughts were replaced with confusion when
he finally traced the origin of the stain on his sheets. He gasped in 
shocked anguish as he gently extricated a miniature version of his rose 
whip wrapped around his bleeding wrists.

     "Looks like Chuuku is now playing for keeps," Kurama said to 
himself, caressing his sore, bleeding wrists. "He hit just the right 
spot this time." 
   
     What the undead young man wanted from Kurama by involving him in
such dreams was beyond him. All he knew was that he had to survive
this somehow... he was able to endure several grueling centuries as a 
notorious Demon fox thief, after all. This was nothing compared to his
hardships as one of the most influential creatures of the Demon World.

     An obvious lie... he had already noted to himself when he almost
went mindless due in part to Chuuku's influence that his human life
was beginning to gain equal footing with his past youko life in terms
of impact, no matter how short nor seemingly insignificant it may be.

     Kurama blinked. He didn't know where this train of thought was 
leading him... he was surprised at himself. He was actually comparing
his youko life to his human life... how silly. He then idly wondered 
which really did have impact on him as a whole.
 
    The youko furthered his contemplations... or was it the half-youko?
Now that he thought about it, since he had lived his life recently as
a human, did that now make him a hanyou... a half-demon? He simply did
not know.

     Kurama furrowed his eyebrows in concern. <Another influence of 
this new dream, perhaps?> he mused, contemplating the situation at 
hand. <I couldn't even choose between my two supposed personalities...
hands-down, I'm supposed to be wholly youko, with my human counterpart
just a mere shell, and yet....>

     He remembered the dream again... his true youko self, fighting his 
human counterpart... his point of view wasn't in the youko. It was in
the human.

     "Is the dream actually making me choose between my youko self and
my human self?" Kurama whispered incredulously as he got up his bed and 
searched his medicine cabinet for the first aid kit.

     A stray, unbidden thought entered Kurama's mind... it was the 
statement his youko self had said before his dream ended. 

     <If you still think that you are I and I am you, then you will 
see and understand the tragedy your decision has made of your life.>

     From there, Kurama said the answer... as if it was in his 
subconscious all along.

     "A star's pride would only allow a death fit for a star... to crash 
and burn into blazing glory. So it is the greatest humiliation for a 
star to die by simply fading away."
     
     And from that unbidden declaration came an unbidden memory from his
past... his human past.




***




     "Shuichi, you should play with children your age. It's the normal 
thing to do," Shiori Minamino urged her young son desperately, looking 
worried at the way her child was sitting on the park bench in all his 
lonesome earlier that afternoon.

     "...." Shuichi stated, his demeanor resolute, his eyes defiant. He
continued to brood as he ate his meal in silence, politely thanking his
mother for the repast... of all things... but still not responding to 
his mother's request.

     Shiori sighed forlornly. How she wished that she'd have a son... a 
normal son that would do normal, boy-type things. Well, her child was 
certainly polite towards her, and he wasn't unkempt, dirty and naughty 
like the boys of his age. 

     <But sometimes I want him to be naughty. I want him to have fun...
to dirty his clothes once in a while and to play in the dirt once in a 
while. He should talk more... talk all he wants, talk about 'boy' 
things like lizards and tops and slingshots. He should be more curious 
of his surroundings. All the other kids keep away from him, and it 
worries me. I love him so much, but still...> she trailed-off her line 
of thought as she realized that the dishes... hers and her son's... were 
already put away, the tabletop wiped clean and the leftovers in the 
refrigerator. 

     She was able to catch a silhouette of Shuichi as he tiredly bounded 
on the stairs. She sighed again, but it wasn't a tired sigh, as 
indicated by her wan smile.  

     "Thank you for doing the dishes and putting away the leftover food,
Shuichi!" Shiori called out.

     "It wasn't a problem. I didn't mind," came the deadpanned reply.

     Shiori let out a giggle. "Now what sort of mother would stay mad at
such a good boy like that?" she said to herself out loud, not at all 
minding if her child had heard or not.




***




     <So... did it originate from my human childhood?> Kurama 
deliberated.

     The youko mutely changed his sheets, taking care to remember to 
change his bandages later, evidenced by the darkened, brownish stain on 
its side.

     But all these were just menial labor for the kitsune... things to 
occupy his idle hands and feet as his mind went elsewhere, his earlier 
declaration still echoing in his head. 

     "A star's pride..." he absently reiterated as he fluffed his 
pillows, his mind searching for that exact incident from his past... 
from his supposed childhood... to find the precedent from which the 
avowal originated, so that he could finally unlock its meaning. 




***





     The young Kurama looked back briefly in his room as he sat on his 
windowsill, gazing at the clear, jewel-filled night sky. He was grateful
with the human woman for taking him in, a youko reborn like an infant 
pup... but her constant niggling was beginning to tax on his nerves. He 
needed to stay away from her for a while, impolite as it may seem.

     <Impolite, eh?> The reborn youko chuckled at the word. That was an
understatement to what he was just nearly a decade ago... literally a 
hairbreadth of a moment in a youko's long life. He never cared for 
such things as politeness in the Demon World. There was no such word or
concept in that dark, foreboding, faraway world.

     Kurama shook his head. <No, it isn't faraway... just after a
human decade or so, after I have repaid my debt to this human mother, I 
will return to my real life... as Youko Kurama,> he thought, though he 
didn't know how to revert to his original form... yet. Whatever Youko 
Kurama wanted, he would get. But he also idly mused with how he was 
going to repay his gracious human host once he left. He didn't know 
how... yet. He would figure something out.

     He idly wondered if he was going to miss the young mother, just as 
he had missed Kurunue after he had died... or even the impetuous Yomi
after he had... taught him a lesson. He dismissed the thought... the 
woman wasn't going to die or get killed... he merely wasn't going to see 
her anymore after a decade or so. But he still wondered if he was going 
to miss her nonetheless.

     Would he also miss the blue sky and bright sun of the Human World? 
No, he didn't care much for it. What he did like about the Human World 
was its clear, midnight sky and its glittering jewels touching the 
darkened heavens... it symbolized his past life in a very special way.
He was always fond of symbolisms.

     The darkness was always a warm, safe blanket for a thief... a 
welcome friend, a confidant and a protector. That was what the night
symbolized for him... but it was the sparkling diamonds that seemed so
far, so unattainable that it nearly drove him to madness that caught 
his eye.

     He imagined plucking those gems right out of the sky, defying even
Enma Daio himself just to get those precious treasures.

     Would he miss the symbolism of his youko life even as he went back
to his youko life? Kurama shook his head. These were probably thoughts 
for another day.

     "Shuichi?" asked a startled voice.

     Kurama inwardly groaned as the female human entered his room. She
was probably going to scold him by staying up so late, or tell him to
get down from his perch on the windowsill because he might get a cold.
He never did know how to react to her daily naggings, so he just coped
the only way he could... the only way he knew.

     He stared back at her with a grim, pokerfaced look.  
     
     "Shuichi..." his 'mother' started.

     <Here it comes... 'Come down from that windowsill right this minute
young man!' and some such. It's degrading for a youko to hear such-->

     Shiori smiled, saying, "Sooo... what's up?" which made the young
Kurama blink.




***




     So it went like that... young mother and an adopted 'prodigal 
son', looking up in the night sky, admiring the glinting pinpoints of
light.

     Kurama knew that the woman was merely waiting for him to ask 
something. So typically, like the daring youko that he was, he took
the risk. 

     "Kaasan..." he started, addressing the female in the way she
wanted to be addressed.

     "Hm?" Shiori said simply, not even bothering to look away from
the spectacle before her.

     <Does she really think that I'm this naive to not see through her
pitiful act?> Kurama thought, in wonder, not with malice, despite the 
harsh words. He braced himself to continue. 

     "What are those?" he asked, curiosity and innocence apparent in his 
voice. <Do I really sound so childish and inane?>

     "They're called stars, Shuichi," Shiori said, smiling and still not 
staring back at her 'son'. "They're bright stars that last forever."

     "Nothing last forever," Kurama somberly said as he looked back at
the... stars, a hint of maturity in his voice. He felt uneasy as he 
became aware of the woman's intense and shocked stare.

      <Hm... perhaps I shouldn't have said that. It was rude and it 
didn't coincide with the 'little boy Shuichi' she pictured in her mind. 
But how can I take it back?>

     "You're a smart little tyke that's just eager to grow up, aren't 
you, Shuichi?" his mother said, amused. 

     <Half-right,> Kurama thought, seeing his mother in a new light.

     "But you're right... nothing lasts forever. Even stars. Those 
stars... there are so far away that it takes thousands of years for 
their light to reach Earth... and within those thousands of years, some 
of the stars we see today are probably dead by now."

     "Dead?" Kurama repeated, morbidly fascinated.

     Shiori nodded. "So that means all that we see right now, in a..."
she trailed-off, hesitating, but she continued, "... a philosophical
viewpoint, the lights we're seeing right now are just shadows of the
past."

     Kurama looked up wistfully in the sky. <Thousands of years, and
then they die out... so they're kind of like Demon fox spirits, then,>
he mused. This was the best conversation he had with his mother so 
far... he idly wondered when exactly did he start referring to the woman
as his mother, but he pushed the thought back... he still had an 
important question to ask. 

     "Kaasan... how do stars die?" Kurama quietly asked.

     "Scientifically speaking?" Shiori queried in kind.

     Kurama shook his head. "Philosophically speaking," he said, 
partially repeating what his mother had said earlier.

     Shiori let out a laugh... a laugh so gentle it reminded the 
reincarnated youko of the tinkling of gilded bells.  

     "Okay... my father told me this when I was your age, so listen 
carefully. A star dies in two ways... it either crashes and burns into 
blazing glory or it simply fades away." She seemed to size-up Kurama 
for a bit before she continued excitedly, saying, "Now, philosophically 
speaking, stars are a prideful lot. They'd rather die by crashing and 
burning rather than by fading away... so, in a sense, it's almost 
heartbreaking to see a star fade away."

     Kurama seemed to take this seriously as he nodded solemnly,
contemplating his mother's words carefully in his head.

     Shiori ruffled Kurama's hair familiarly, smiling. "It's nice that
I've finally found a way to relate to you, son. You're practically a
gifted genius, you are."

     Instead of beaming at the motherly phrase, Kurama merely muttered
out loud, "Aren't there persons who live out their lives the same way... 
by either going out in a blazing glory or by slowly fading away?"

     Shiori smiled as she kissed Kurama's forehead. "It only happens to 
the stars, dear... now off to bed you go. Those are thoughts for another 
day."




***




     "Shuichi, breakfast is ready! Time to go to school!" 

     It was his mother's usual morning greeting. It was so customary 
that Kurama idly inspected himself to see if his human body had already 
aged nineteen years instead of just a mere six years... meaning he 
checked himself if he was still dreaming. Even his memories had become 
more vivid ever since his special little fantasies started... he almost 
couldn't tell if he was still dreaming or already awake.

     "Coming, kaasan!" he cheerfully called out as he bounded off the
stairs, already in his familiar school uniform. 

     "Are you okay, son? I heard some noises in your room last night,
and I was kind of worried that...."

     "I'm okay, kaasan... everything's okay," he said as he hid his
bandaged wrist from under his uniform's sleeve. He hated lying to his
mother like this, but he had no choice in the matter. 

     "That's good to hear, but you shouldn't stay up so late... oh, 
yes... there's still something left from last week's allowance?" 

     "Of course, kaasan." 

     Shiori kissed Kurama on the forehead... a habitual yet tender
gesture. "That's good to hear. You know, your little brother is finally 
starting school right here in this district, and money's been a little 
tight since the economic crisis...." 

     "Oh, kaasan... I told you, it's all right. No need for that 
apologetic tone," Kurama said consolingly. 

     "You're sweet as always, Shuichi," Shiori said cheerfully as 
she nuzzled Kurama's head.

     Of course he was. Kurama always felt the need to be extra-polite 
to his mother... since he lied to her face everyday. It was only fair. 

     How many times did he lie to his mother, anyway? He'd probably lose
count... not that he bothered counting in the first place. He had lied 
from the start... from the numerous missions he attended for the Spirit 
World's sake to the little secret that started it all... the fact that 
he was a youko. 

     But was he really a youko right now? He wasn't living a youko's 
life, but a human's.

     "So it is the greatest humiliation for a star to die by simply 
fading away," the statement in his subconscious echoed.

     So was he a star that was fading away? Was he a prideful youko 
that was slowly vanishing into oblivion, turning into a mediocre 
human? Did he will himself to fade away, in hopes that one day, all his
lies to his mother would become truth? That someday, through his
own choice, he would become....

     <What's with these weird thoughts?> Kurama pondered as he woke up
from his brief yet thought-provoking reverie. 

     "Ah... that Shuichi is quite a handful... I mean the other 
Shuichi," Shiori conversed, unaware of her son's transitory sabbatical
from reality... or perhaps she was just feigning ignorance since she was
already used to it. Kurama could never really tell. 

     "Oh my... sometimes I wish that father of his could have named 
him something else... his son and my son having the same name... how 
vexing," Shiori said, but the joviality of her tone allayed her 
supposed displeasure.

     "It's nice to see you so happy that Shuichi and his father is 
coming here, kaasan," Kurama honestly said, dispelling his own nasty 
thoughts about deception and deceit. 

     "Ah... the wonders of motherhood. Like I said, your little 
brother's quite a handful. So naughty, so rowdy, always being so 
emotional...." Shiori sighed as she looked at Kurama's direction. "I
wish I could have been more prepared. If only you weren't the exact
opposite of your younger brother."
      
     Kurama rubbed the back of his head sheepishly... he had seen this
act done by some of his classmates in junior high school whenever they
were confronted by either something embarrassing or by a moody female... 
or both. It somewhat worked to a degree, so Kurama picked up the habit 
ever since. "I couldn't help the way I am, kaasan."

     Shiori lightly laughed her tinkling bells kind of laugh. Kurama
recognized this laugh... it was his mother's laugh whenever she felt
amused and touched at the same time. It was a laugh he had always 
cherished.

     "That's right... I guess you can't. You could only be Minamino
Shuichi," Shiori said in an almost singsong voice as she made her way
upstairs to continue her new hobby of needlework. 

     Kurama just sat there, unnoticed by his mother as he contemplated
her words. <I could only be Minamino Shuichi... it seems that I don't 
know who I want to be.> He stood up hesitantly, remembering that he
still had classes today. <What do I choose now... pride or humility?
Glory or nothingness?>

     He slowly trudged to the door, his steps heavy... his mind burdened
with semi-coherent thought... thoughts intertwined with the perennial
questions that also plagued all of humanity. <Who am I really? What is 
my purpose for being?>




***




     "While I'm touched with your concern and grateful that you 
protected me from Chiho's usual abrasive comments, but I don't think 
that warrants you to not talk to... hello? Midori-chan? Earth to 
Midori-chan?"

     Midori Ohya blinked several times before Ayame's insistent 
summoning registered in her brain. "Huh? What was it, Ayame-san?"

     Ayame crossed her arms in mock disapproval, a sly smile creeping
in the corners of her mouth. "And you call _me_ the one that has her
head in the clouds... look at you, Midori-chan. Lately, since summer, 
you always suddenly blank out with your eyes glazed and stuff." A 
thoughtful look crossed the girl with the lengthy sideburns. "Ne, 
Midori-chan... I didn't look like that while dreaming about 
Minamino-san, did I?"

     "No, of course not!" Midori passionately lied through her teeth. 
While she usually abhorred dishonestly, there were times when the truth
was far more hurtful than fiction... and it afforded her a way to avoid 
confrontations to boot. 

     Ayame raised an eyebrow skeptically. "You're pulling a Minamino,
Midori-chan."
 
     Midori blinked as she struggled to clear out the haze in of her 
mind. A Minamino... what was a Minamino again? <Oh yes,> she thought 
as she finally remembered. 'Pulling a Minamino' was a popular campus 
term in Meiou High that originated from Shuichi Minamino himself. 
<When one 'pulls a Minamino,' he or she usually acts in an extremely 
polite and diplomatic manner in order to avoid any sort of confrontation 
or conflict, going as far as to make oneself into what can be termed
as a 'human doormat'. The term can be loosely connoted to 'lying through
your teeth' and 'wearing your heart on your sleeve.'> Midori blinked
again. 

     "I did not pull a Minamino!" the mousy girl exclaimed.

     Ayame looked at her younger-looking colleague with half-lidded
eyes. "Yeah? Well, you pulled one just now... while you're denying
it. Face it, Midori-chan... you weren't built for lying."
         
     Midori pouted as she adjusted her glasses. "What were you trying
to tell me earlier?" she asked, desperately trying to change the 
ridiculously silly subject.

     Ayame paused a bit before answering, "You have got to apologize to 
Chiho! You know how sensitive she gets. You said some pretty hurtful 
things that I know you didn't really mean. If you swallow your pride
just this once and say sorry, I know that...."

     "No," Midori said, cutting off Ayame. 

     The shorter-haired girl blinked at her bespectacled friend in 
shock, knowing that Midori never cut off people. "Why do you have to
make this more complicated than it truly is, Midori? If you're doing
this for my stake, then please stop."

     "I hope you don't take this the wrong way, Ayame-san... but I'm 
not doing this for you," Midori said resolutely. "I'm just sick and
tired of swallowing my pride for that condescending...." 

     "Midori!" Ayame said in alarm, shocked at her friend's demeanor.
"How could you say that? You were both the best of friends long before I
even joined your group... and I don't mean Chiho's silly little Minamino 
fan club. If this isn't about me, then why are you acting like this?" 

     Midori merely shrugged at Ayame's question as light glinted on her 
coke-bottle glasses, making her face eerily expressionless. "That's 
just it, Ayame-san... you weren't there during all those years that I
knew Chiho. You didn't know the full extent of her pettiness and 
superficiality. You didn't know just how shallow Sasae Chiho is."

     "I'm not worried about Chiho, Midori... I'm worried about you,"
Ayame said, her apprehension as clear as her words. "You've... changed
somehow."

     The class bell suddenly rang, signaling the start of classes. 
Midori had already moved out of the way of the milling crowd, but Ayame
still stood steadfast, her eyes having the strange combination of 
defiance and pity. 

     "People don't change, Ayame-san... some people just don't see that
little something that was already there in the first place."

     With no further disputation nor contention, Midori Ohya left the 
confused and worried Ayame alone in the hallway as she joined the 
milling crowd of students.




***




     <It's yet another day of juvenile infamy,> Midori said to herself
as she entered the bustling classroom, a look of pure, half-lidded 
boredom in their eyes. She discreetly avoided any contact with Ayame
as the auburn-haired girl passed by the bespectacled young lass.

     "You should all quiet down... Isako-sensei is going to be here any
moment now," Yuu Kaito, resident class nerd, snootily admonished.
Typically, his pleas for obedience and compliance were mostly ignored.
Atypically... his tones seemed almost... strangely pleading.
 
     Midori ignored her last thought as she took her seat. The Midori
before... the one that was an overbearing martyr... would have given 
the contemplation a second consideration. She might even wonder in 
concern what could have made Kaito feel so uncomfortable about the usual 
early rowdiness before class. That was before.

     <This is now.> Midori nonchalantly took her seat, taking out a 
small notebook from her leather bag as she ignored the noise of the rest
of the class.

     "Who could have thought that someone so quiet and so unassuming 
would turn out to be such a bitch?" Midori recognized the spiteful, 
mocking voice... it belonged to the unofficial leader of Chiho's little
posse... her right-hand girl in the fashion club. She was the textbook
example of a social climber.

     Who could have thought that people actually gave such creatures a
name? <Masami.> Before she realized it, Midori was already giving the
object of her unwilling contemplation a discreet sidelong glance hidden
in the glint of her thick glasses as she pretended to read the neatly 
written characters of her history notes.

     There they were... Chiho's mindless, shallow lemmings. They stood 
out from the rest of her classmates with their unnaturally colored hair
and overzealous accessorizing, but ironically enough they looked more
like victims rather than members of the fashion club, with all the
imaginary, unrealistic ideals set by the ever-popular Chiho Sasae.

     Midori could almost feel herself grimace at the thought as she 
focused her casual glance at Chiho herself. The flashy girl looked 
mostly bored, nearly apathetic as she looked at a leaflet of some sort.
<The ideal of perfection is still concerned with cosmetic appearances
and her own flawless reputation, heedlessly taking advantage of the 
vulnerability of the innocents... just like the Ice Queen that she is.>

     Midori idly wondered how Chiho was able to convince her to abandon
the Literary Club to join the dubious 'Legion of Minamino-sama.' <It was 
all for friendship's sake,> the bespectacled girl reckoned... but there
was no feeling of kinship between them now.

     "Tsk, tsk... look at her over there, sitting quietly while she 
studies her little notes. Awwww... ain't that sweet? Isn't she just the
sweetest little girl?" one girl, about Ayame's height, wearing heavy, 
dark make-up that was the latest fashion at a time but now was mostly
a faded trend worn in bad taste, heckled.

     "Y'know what I think? I think she's just trying to hog some 
attention for herself, which is too bad since everybody knows that
she'll always be the invisible girl... ne, Chiho-san?" a seemingly 
complete clone of Chiho, right down to the wrist bangles and the 
oversized earrings, casually suggested. Chiho seemed to deliberately 
ignore her doppelganger's presence.

     "Well... I for one think that an insignificant, unpopular nerd
who's eager to please but is still mostly ignored should learn first 
whom she's dealing with before she starts a fight," Masami acerbically 
declared in behalf of her beloved leader, a toothy smile on her face.

     Midori was more than fazed by the statement and by the disgusting
little whispers that followed it.

     Because it was, more or less, the same statement Chiho spat on 
her face after she was slapped that fateful summer afternoon in the 
park.

     It was a statement composed of hurtful little barbs that irritated
Midori to no end... because of the simple fact that those meaningless 
composition of the words stabbed deep into her pride the only way the
truth could.
  
     Midori shook her head as if to clear it. <Silly thoughts... they're
nothing but silly thoughts.> She furrowed her brow as she sightlessly 
looked at her open notebook. <Disgusting little whispers... can't these
lemmings stop?>

     Midori paused a bit as she slowly lifted her head toward her
classmates. It came, unbidden.... the uncomfortable reticence. She could
feel their secretive yet undeniable collective gaze. She covered herself
with her thin, paperback notebook, as if she was suddenly stripped 
naked.

     The quiet adolescent was able to catch glimpses of some of her
classmates staring back at her through mirthful eyes. She felt 
apprehension over all those mischievous eyes darting back and forth on
her person.

     The ice was thankfully broken by the appearance of Shuichi Minamino
at the doorway. A subdued-looking Ayame stepped aside the red-haired 
boy's path as he made his way to the desk. <The boy of reflection is
here.> 

     Midori looked at Minamino in rapt and mute attention as a way of 
ignoring the growing feeling of cold dread inside her. Suddenly, as 
unbidden as the uncomfortable silence from before, the section's typical
group of mostly male pranksters surrounded Minamino and gave him several 
leaflets, snickering.  

     Strangely enough, those leaflets looked a lot like the one Chiho 
was perusing earlier.

     Minamino blushed furiously as he looked at the leaflets. Midori
concluded that some of her anal classmates must have printed out some
pornographic material on the leaflets to tease the straight-laced
student. <Swine.>

     Minamino then uncharacteristically slammed his palm on his desk
in anger, surprising the prankster group and the whole class in general,
as well as scattering several of the leaflets.

     "What sort of sick joke is this?!" Minamino demanded ominously.

     A leaflet fluttered silently on the floor near Midori's feet. 
Overwhelmed with curiosity, the shy teenager ignored her nagging 
feelings of trepidation and anxiety as she picked up the piece of paper,
intent on viewing its enigmatic contents.

     Tears then fell on the leaflet as Midori held it with trembling 
hands.




***




     She saw laughter... not actual, mocking laughter... not actual, 
mocking laughter... she heard no such laughter. But she saw it... felt 
it. 

     She saw it through their eyes, felt it through their demeanor.

     She saw it through the way the prankster group was looking down on
her as if she was just another silly virgin nerd girl they could pick
on because she was neither pretty enough nor desirable enough to deserve
their respect.

     She felt it through the way Masami and her cohorts were acting... 
they didn't need to make any of their annoying little giggles to mock
her now. All they needed to do to rub rock salt onto her emotional 
wounds was to flaunt their aura of smugness and comeuppance.

     But the worst thing wasn't the silent laughter of the trickster
group and the lemmings of the fashion club. After all, not all of her
classmates were involved with the execution of their repugnant little 
practical joke.

     Yet these very classmates had the worse reaction of all.

     Ayame seemed as shocked as she was... and so was Minamino. But
she couldn't erase from her mind the look they mutually shared. It was 
a look that was reflected by the eyes of many of her classmates.

     It was a collective look of utter pity.

     They knew... they all knew.

     It was simply the worst.

     For her, it was worse than a spiteful and smug laugh... it was
worse than being ridiculed behind one's back. Those were actions 
usually motivated by blind jealousy or a demand for recompense due to
a real or imagined hurt.

     Pity could only be motivated... or rather elicited... by bearing
witness to a state of helplessness, misery and despair. The one thing 
a person must do in order to earn pity is to become miserable.
     
     It was definitely the worst thing... to be helplessly mortified...
humiliated...
   
     Pitied.  

     She lifted her head up as she dared look at each and every one of
her classmates... some looked away as if they were guilty as sin, though
ironically enough they were the ones least likely to be involved. Still
others, the ones who were guilty as sin, stared back at her 
steadfastly, even proudly. Her eyes then alighted on the girl who 
started it all... her traitorous friend.

     The Ice Queen. 

     She wanted to see in the Ice Queen's eyes the same flighty 
arrogance that see saw in the Ice Queen's pawns.

     She wanted to see in that in Chiho Sasae's eyes because that 
would give her a deeper cause for her humiliation... which is revenge. 
They would be even... she humiliated Chiho and now Chiho humiliated 
her... that was that. It was a much more acceptable reason than the mere 
shallowness of people that shouldn't even be involved with the personal
squabble in the first place.

     But Chiho didn't look at her with haughtiness and condescension. 
The ostentatious girl was looking at her the same way the rest of her
classmates were looking at her.

     Piteously.

     Midori's vision tearfully blurred as she desperately made her way
out of the classroom... away from her classmate's piteous glances that
made her feel as naked as the faked nude photograph of herself. 




***




     "The poor girl... did you see the look on her face? She was 
completely humiliated!"

     "It must have been Sasae's doing... I heard that she and Ohya had 
a fight. Sasae is probably still upset about some of the things Ohya 
told her at that annual get-together of the Legion just this summer."

     "Nobody deserves to be humiliated like that! Midori-san has never 
hurt anybody in her life! What Chiho-san did was just the worst! It's 
totally unforgivable!"

     "Just wait till Isako-sensei gets here! He practically loathes 
Chiho-san and her antics. He'll straighten her out but good!"

     "Do you dare say such things about the principal's daughter? He'd 
sooner forget about this incident than let his precious daughter's 
permanent record get marred, Isako-sensei or no."

     "Well, I say Masami and her cohorts from the fashion club are just 
as bad!"

     "Those pranksters that showed Minamino-sama those print outs are 
the ones to blame! They're the ones that are always causing trouble."

     "Hey, it's the hands-off policy for me. I ain't getting involved
in no chick fight."

     "Poor Ohya-kun... getting involved in something that's beyond 
her capabilities to solve... she's a victim of circumstance."

     "Can't anybody help?" 

     Ayame gritted her teeth in frustration as she looked at her 
murmuring classmates in disgust. <They keep on talking about how bad 
things are going for Midori-chan, but they wouldn't even lift a finger
to help her.>

     The girl with lengthy sideburns sighed. <But I'm no better than
them. Just three months ago, all I ever thought about was my crush 
with Shu-chan and girl comics. I lived in my own little fantasy world,
but I didn't even make any effort or attempt to make my fantasies come 
true.>

     Ayame was able to catch sight of Minamino as he confronted the
sons of bitches that showed him those despicable fake pictures. Her
heart then skipped a beat as her gaze lingered. <I may have lost 
Shu-chan, but I have no regrets in doing what I did... I lived my dream.
I lived my life.> She then looked determinedly at Chiho and her posse.   

     <So... since I have a new credo of sorts, then I might as well 
follow it, right?> she thought as she trudged towards her former 
friend's direction <This isn't a time to dawdle and daydream. It's time
for action.>   




***




To be Continued...


Next: The Silver Fox and a star's death.

Note that I put in the title _Shonen_ not  _Shonen-Ai_. Shonen-Ai 
(male-male relationship) and yaoi are just not my cup of tea. This 
is dedicated to Chimamire Kitsune for giving me the inspiration to 
write this fic... wherever you are, this is for you.

Disclaimer: All characters used in this fanfic (save some others) 
are the rightful property of Yoshishiro Togashi, Shueisha, Fuji TV 
and St. Pierrot. 

Ja!
Abdiel


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