[FFML] [fic][yyh] Shonen Chapter 29: Crescendo (Part 3)

[Abdiel]

"Life is not fair."

(John F. Kennedy)


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Shonen
A Yuyu Hakusho fic
By Chester Castañeda
chester.castaneda at gmail.com
gabriel_gabdiel at yahoo.com
http://www.fanfiction.net/~abdiel 
http://abdiel.florestica.com/
http://chester-fanfics.livejournal.com/

The Silver Fox's ultimate plan comes to fruition, at last.

________________________________________________________________________

Chapter 29: Crescendo (Part 3)
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Kurama thought that he was going to die; the youko attacked him with
brute, unyielding force that was terrible to behold, his body turning
into a limp dishrag amidst the fox demon's blitzkrieg of pointed claws.
The subsequent soreness was excruciating, as if every cell in his entire
body was being invaded by a malevolent virus. 

Streams of liquid fire poured out from his clenched eyes, but he fought
against the ever-pressing blackness of unconsciousness with all his
will, holding his shoulder tight... His shoulder! His hand! His entire
arm! He couldn't feel any of those anymore.

His eyes flew open and he saw his own bloody arm lying just a few feet
away from him, his face turning into a white mask of hyperventilating
terror as cold realization and shock numbed his being to its very core.

Just a short while later, the gigantic, hairy, soot-skinned Kapre ate
the teenager's decade-old reflection alive, tearing him apart limb from
tiny limb with its massive jaws and fist-sized teeth. But just before
the little boy's untimely demise, the sixteen-year-old Kurama remembered
him enigmatically say, "P-Please take care of my sheep, kind sir. Use
the muzzle you've made for him so that I can make him only eat bushes
that are not rosebushes. It's for my rose's protection, you see; she's
a very proud but fragile flower..."
 
'What could he possibly mean by that?' Kurama wondered.

The remaining events passed through the redhead's pained eyes like a
delirious blur, but those hazy words stayed with him, haunting him,
circling his mind with the methodical insistence of a hungry buzzard. By
his estimations, the way the youngest Kurama moved towards the Kapre
with unremitting resolve suggested premeditation instead of madness: he
sacrificed himself voluntarily and knowingly. 'In his last moments, it
felt as if Kurama was trying to tell me something. Let's see... a
muzzle, a sheep, bushes that weren't rosebushes, and a rose....'

Youko Kurama interrupted his human counterpart's turbulent musings with
a soft but unmistakably malicious chuckle before cautiously backing
away from him for some reason. "What can I say?" the fox shrugged
mirthfully, "The weaker makes the other stronger by being weak. And
you're now next on that menu, you poor unfortunate soul."

As if on cue, squelching noises and the smoky reek of burnt tobacco
suddenly filled the stale cavern air, choking Kurama with their dreadful 
presence. 'What's going on?' he pondered as he turned to face the
unmistakable sight of slavering, burning death. 'The Kapre...!'

The ginormous behemoth cackled madly, acid dripping from its fangs as
hell and pandemonium rose into the air next to it. The Silver Fox
followed suit, his stentorian laughter seemingly disembodied as he
disappeared from view. 

The handicapped teenager summoned a Rose Whip with his good hand and,
with a sudden jolt, wrapped his weapon around the nearest stalactite and
swung in a shallow curve as he escaped the shower of brimstone and leapt
right into a veritable inferno. Just a few yards from him, the Kapre's
anchor-arms crawled and crept towards one other like countless boas,
their draconic maws flaring with a conflagration of molten fire that
soon turned the coincidental arena into Pompeii in its final moments.

The flames appeared to roar higher as Kurama backpedaled away from
assured immolation. He took a quick glance around. The air was hazy with
heat. It was hard to breathe. He couldn't see very far, but it looked
like there was a clear path to her right. He stumbled forward, looking
for an escape and a chance for survival. With one flick of his wrist, he
let his fireproof plant-hybrid wrap itself around his body like a roll
of sentient bandages that protected him from the blaze and momentarily
stopped the gushing blood from the stump that was once his arm.

The mad cackling of the two villains could barely be heard from all the
noise. No squad of soldiers, no battalion of artillery, no fleet of
warships could ever have dispensed this much destructive firepower in so
short a time. The floor glowed, cracked, and melted from the barrage.
The entire cave rattled and swayed from the force of the assault. A
whirlwind of debris and shrapnel hurtled through the air and imbedded
into the walls. What stalactites and stalagmites remained shattered into 
millions of pieces. The Kapre seemed to blast away at the nimble Kurama
for hours, enjoying every second of it, but in reality, it was more like
three fourths of a minute, the blast intensifying with each salvo.

He sauntered forward; it was like moving through another world. Through
hell. Everything was burning, everything except him. The cave was all
shades of red, orange and yellow, with brief flickers here and there of
blue and green and even violet. There was a constant roar of sound: the
thunder of the flames, the groaning and creaking of the tunnel, the
sound of rocks and burning debris falling.

Once, Kurama heard a whole series of explosions in a row as the Kapre
fired its fire-breathing pythons consecutively, its every movement
unleashing wave after ruthless wave of ruin. The consequent heat on the 
redhead's face, arms and legs was unbearable. When he inhaled, it was
like breathing in solid flame. The pain wasn't too bad yet, not compared
to the numbing fire of his missing limb, but it was getting worse. He
moved as quickly as possible, dodging around blazing spires of wreckage
while giving the burning goliath a sidelong glance of apprehension. The
stench of carcinogenic smoke and addictive tobacco was everywhere now.

Shelves of rock went up in smoke. Fumes, thick and sharp, caught in his
throat. Kurama stopped to cough, feeling giddy. Coughing hurt, but for a
long time he couldn't stop. The rest of the exit tunnels, furnace-hot.
As he passed through the never-ending gouts of fire, there was a sudden
squeal as something gave way, and he had to leap through a ball of flame
to avoid being pinned down by the scorching rock cones. His eyes were
dry. It hurt to blink. He couldn't swallow. He was dizzy.

"I LIKE KILLING PEOPLE BECAUSE IT'S SO MUCH FUN; IT'S MORE FUN THAN
KILLING WILD GAME IN THE FOREST BECAUSE MAN IS THE MOST DANGEROUS ANIMAL
OF ALL. TO KILL SOMETHING GIVES ME THE MOST THRILLING EXPERIENCE!" Even
through the dull roar of burning rubble, Kurama could still hear the
Kapre's aural assault of a deluded rant, its speech more and more
resembling its parent's--Toguro Ani. The monster was playing with him,
like a cat would to a dead mouse; it knew that it had him cornered.
"KILLING IS EVEN BETTER THAN GETTING YOUR ROCKS OFF WITH A GIRL, AND THE
BEST PART OF IT IS THAT WHEN I DIE I WILL BE REBORN IN PARADISE, AND ALL
THE PEOPLE I'VE KILLED WILL BECOME MY SLAVES!"

Soon enough, Kurama experienced some reprieve--he managed to somehow
make a hairpin turn around a particularly large stalagmite that shielded
him from the fireballs of the infernal force of nature from behind him.
He sprinted straight for the underground lake and the third pillar of
light, but the beast remained hot on his heels and gaining fast. He was
almost there; he could make it.

As the Kapre turned everything before them into a mass of multicolored
flame and miasma, the luminescent pilaster protruding out of the body of
water flashed then suddenly burst in reaction to the growing blaze,
spraying the startled Kurama with tiny stinging particles on his face.

He reeled, clutching his face as he panted. It felt like... broken
glass? Or was it molten glass? He also wondered why his exposed hair
wasn't catching fire. He stood for a few more seconds--a precious few
seconds--staring owlishly up at the mesmerizing Light. Then he wondered
why he wasn't moving any more. In one last burst of rationality, he
understood that he was close to passing out. Somehow he made himself
start up towards the other side of the lake and into higher ground.

The heat seemed to increase as he climbed through the edges of the stone
hall. Worse, the smoke thickened as he went; the smog continued to swell
in size, the upper chambers acting as a chimney for it to pass through.
He took a deep breath--a mistake, and his chest screamed at him, but he
didn't dare start coughing again--and tried to run. That idea didn't
work very well either; the rubber on his shoes' soles were on fire,
melting as they burned, and sticking to the hotplate ground like tar.

Kurama staggered, almost falling, but managed to keep going. Onto the
landing, turn, and up again. Smoke and flame were everywhere. He
couldn't see. He couldn't breathe. How much further could this path go?
Then suddenly he ran out of ground to walk on. He looked up and peered
through the haze with teary eyes--Damn. 

Just in front of Kurama was the menacing, ebony Kapre, half-submerged in
the deepest depths of the cold lagoon, the heat of its tentacles and
fiery body creating a boiling steam of rising water vapor and,
consequently, an oh so blessedly cool breeze that caressed the boy's
burnt skin like a medicinal balm... and suddenly Kurama could breathe
again. He collapsed onto his hands and knees, gasping and coughing,
half-relieved and half-horrified at the curious turn of events, retching
at the awful taste in his mouth. When he spat, it was black.

The Kapre subsequently moved one of its two, actual arms that weren't
tentacles or mutated stubs of some sort in a swift arc, faster than its 
ponderous size would suggest; before Kurama realized what was happening,
the hellion snatched him up, holding him tightly in one gigantic hand.
He struggled against its grip, but in vain.

"DON'T YOU SEE, HUMAN?" the Kapre thundered as it leered at its captive
with unmistakable malice. "THERE SHALL BE NO ESCAPE FOR YOU--NO HEROIC
LAST-MINUTE STRUGGLE. YOU SHALL DIE, AND YOUR ENTIRE PATHETIC QUEST WILL
DIE WITH YOU," it crooned, then held the fourth reflection closer to its
heaving bosom, its fist tightening around him painfully.

'My quest... Oh yes. My quest! I'm supposed to remember something....'
Before he could complete his thought, Kurama felt a mounting upsurge of
exquisite agony that rattled his mind. With his innards about to be
forced out of his body like toothpaste from a flimsy tube, he shut his
eyes and braced himself whilst forcing into his heart the serene calm
usually found before the onset of a hurricane. After all, every man has
to go through his own personal hell to reach true enlightenment. 

Afterwards, everything around Kurama ground to a complete halt; during
all this time, the younger Kurama's face intermittently flashed within
the older Kurama's psyche, urgently beckoning the latter to remember the
words of the former. The sixteen-year-old boy pondered the enigmatic
puzzle further, enumerating, 'So... he said something about bushes that
aren't rosebushes. A sheep. A muzzle. A... Wait a minute. This all
sounds very familiar....' He smiled in spite of himself. 'HA! Shigeru-
kun! You're the one behind all this, I know! Hahahahaha! You're still
reading the classics, I see!'

Kurama's eyes went wide, bulging with a bizarre mixture of exhilaration, 
realization, and anguish just as the Kapre was about to squeeze his head
until it popped off, and then he screamed. He cried. He laughed. He
didn't know what sound came out of his mouth, but it got the giant's
attention. "I see them! The bushes! I can see the bushes that Kurama was
talking about! You wouldn't notice them at first, but they're all over
the giant's body!"

"WHAT ARE YOU SHRIEKING ABOUT, BOY? DO YOU WANT TO GET EATEN INSTEAD,
JUST LIKE YOUR MINI-CLONE?" the Kapre hissed as it squeezed Kurama's
body even tighter, but was alarmed to see the triumphant gleam in the
redhead's green eyes.  

"All you know is death and destruction. What a pity; I will not be
defeated by such a shallow creature." Kurama now realized clearly that
something extraordinary was happening. It was holding him close in its
arms as if he were a little child--this feeling of understanding, of
hope, of going through a turning point of sorts--and yet it seemed to
him that he was rushing headlong toward an abyss from which he could do
nothing to restrain himself from falling. In any case, it didn't
matter; it would all soon be over.

The Kapre countered angrily with a frightening roar as it moved its
asteroid-sized cranium forward to bite Kurama's head off with its
gaping, rotting maw. But then, something weird happened: long, thick
branches sprouted from the edges of the troll's lips and intertwined
with each other, sewing the monster's mouth shut.

'...The muzzle. And now for the bushes that aren't rosebushes...' Kurama
reached deep inside himself and pulled out all the ki power he could
muster from the depths of his soul. This _had_ to work; this blast of
power was going to leave him totally drained. He could feel the surface
of his skin start to sizzle with the power build up. Inside the cave,
the intense brightness of Kurama's aura seemed to rival that of the
light of the third pillar and the orange fires surrounding the Kapre's
many limbs.

Then it happened. The flaming tentacles started to furl inward, warp,
crackle, then harden, as if they were rotting right before Kurama's very
eyes like the decaying undergrowth of an old, diseased tree. Their inner
fire was soon extinguished amidst their rapid degeneration, which
prompted the redhead to quote, "You must see to it that you pull up
regularly all the baobabs, at the very first moment when they can be 
distinguished from the rosebushes which they resemble so closely in
their earliest youth. It is very tedious work, but very easy." 

And so it became apparent to the Kapre that it had been so busy changing
and metamorphosing itself that it didn't notice the little white sprigs
and branches that surrounded its anchor-arms and charcoal bulk, thinking
them to be yet another part of its numerous mutations. The behemoth had
unintentionally let the baobab grow and develop within its massive body
as it continued to evolve into one hideous form after another... until
it was too late.

The Kapre felt it... felt it inside its gut... the compelling, vile
sensation that was neither fear nor karma; the repulsive, invasive
feeling of a million tiny roots and a thousand thick branches filling
each and every last available bodily crevice at an astonishing rate.
Afterwards, its hijacked body began to buckle and writhe against its own
behest. It screamed in terror and exquisite agony as its bones shattered
with a series of muffled cracking sounds. Its screams were cut off as
its skull abruptly deformed into something utterly inhuman.

"A baobab is something you will never, never be able to get rid of if
you attend to it too late. It spreads over the entire planet. It bores
clear through it with its roots. And if the planet is too small, and the
baobabs are too many, they split it in pieces..." Kurama wistfully
exhaled; the first reflection had obviously allowed himself to get eaten
because _he_ had the baobab twigs with him--the very knickknacks which
Shigeru Amano so helpfully dreamed up back in his version of Oz to help
Kurama along in his quest. 'It's done, Shigeru-kun; it's done, little
Kurama; it's done, my two little princes.'

The Kapre further ballooned in size for a brief moment, its eyes bulging
like a chameleon's, before bursting open like an overripe papaya, its
wet chunks of red, black, and pink giblets the size of fully-grown men
raining down hard inside the heart of the Cave of Irima as they messily
splashed about on the underground river below. In the monster's place
stood a huge, majestic, and bloody baobab tree, twenty-five feet tall
like the leviathan it slew, its outsized barrel trunk as large and thick
as an apartment complex, its leafless branches clawing at an unseen sky
like the frozen tendrils of numerous lightning bolts. 

"Interesting. The Baobab Tree," Youko Kurama snidely observed as he
irritably wiped a bit of Kapre muck out of his pristine-white clothes,
"A tree which people say that the devil himself plucked from the surface
of the Earth into Hell, so that its roots are stuck in the air while its
branches are underground. Humph. I must say that I love the irony. It's
a very stylish death indeed. The little speech about shallow creatures
was a nice touch."

The fourth reflection turned towards the approaching Silver Fox and
stood in a steadfast battle stance, holding a single splinter of bamboo
on his remaining hand. His teeth were clenched and his brow was furrowed
in fury. Then, without warning, his battle aura faded and his eyes
shimmered with unshed tears. The strength seemed to go out of him all at
once. He fell to his knees, clutching at the ground as though it were a
security blanket.

A single rivulet of crimson trickled from Kurama's mouth as his jade
eyes widened with surprise; he didn't even know what hit him. During the
time it took for the him to fall into stance, Youko Kurama was already
upon him, his sharp kitsune claws repeatedly stabbing and slicing their 
unwitting victim within the course of an eye blink. "Unfortunately for
you, I am not a very shallow creature... or a forgiving one."

"The elephant in the room" for both versions of Kurama was Youko Kurama's
unasked question of "Why, Kurama? Why didn't you finish off Shigure as a
youko? Why did you deny yourself your true nature?" In light of this,
the sixteen-year-old boy sputtered, "Y-Youko... You don't understand...!
I-I had to do it! I had to find out for myself if I can... be myself. Be
Minamino Shuichi! If I'm strong enough to finish Shigure without your--I
just wanted to know who I really am, youko!"

"'Who you really are?' 'Be yourself?'" The Silver Fox let out a small
chuckle. "Don't make me laugh, human. I'll tell you who you are.
You're..." The youko attacked with such majestic quickness and eye-
flinching ferocity that it was both gorgeous and gruesome to behold,
like watching a live birth or witnessing a lion mangle an antelope.

'Vermin.' 

A high-pitched whine split the air as Kurama recoiled from what seemed
to be a locust swarm of claw strikes. Subsequently, a cluster of painful
energy bolts struck his nerve endings as the veritable flurry of blows
sliced through both him and everything around him with coldhearted
efficiency, tearing out deep ruts regardless of what it hit, whether
flesh or rock. The echoes of the terrible scourging faded in the
teenager's ears, soon replaced by his own frightful cries and moans.

'Filth.' 

Kurama ingeniously allowed several of the strikes to push him rearward
to a safe distance, earning him a brief period of respite. However, he
looked and felt quite dreadful--he was covered in blood and lacerations
from head to toe, and his uniform was torn away all up one side. There
was also a deep open wound beneath his ribs, and something long and
ropy-looking was dangling out of it. But he got up and ran, away from
his psychotic alter ego, his eternal tormentor, and kept on running, the
tunnel ahead of him clear and inviting--

'Trash.' 

He almost made it. He just almost made it.

Youko Kurama summoned a rose whip, tied it into a lasso, and expertly
swung it over his escaping quarry. The rope-like weapon tangled Kurama
squarely by the ankles; it lifted him off his feet and sent him tumbling
down to the ground. He staggered awkwardly, his face chalk-white, his
green eyes enormous. Before he could move again, the Silver Fox was upon
him, hogtying him with the cutting barbed vines straightaway.

'An abomination.'

The youko used every last bit of the whip to completely bind Kurama's
mauled body. Then, with just one simple yet hard tug at the spaghetti-
stringed plant mesh, it was all over. The green eyes found the gold, but
after a split second, something in the depths of the jade orbs seemed to
vanish, leaving them fixed, blank, and empty.

The razor-keen vines ripped through the hapless redhead, painting the
earthen landscape with a spray of angry vermillion. As the blood pooled
onto the Silver Fox's sandaled feet, he turned his nose at something
minced and grated that lay before him; it didn't look even faintly human
any more.

"Toguro Ani was right about one thing," the youko disdainfully hissed as
he threw away the bloodied and dirtied rose whip into the Kapre-polluted
lake below with blatant contempt and disgust, "There's nothing worse
than a human being."


***


The nineteen-year-old Kurama stiffened and shuddered as he shakily got
up to his feet, feeling a bit strange and woozy all of a sudden. Eerie
torrents of old and new memories, tumultuous thoughts, and churning
emotions assaulted all six of his senses, sending wave after ephemeral
wave of either nostalgia or nausea in the pits of his ethereal stomach.
It was as if he somehow felt... whole again.

'Whole? Why would I be feeling--Oh no. The other reflections! Are they
all...?' Realization hit Kurama like a hard, crisp slap to the face; the
buzz at the back of his head, he dazedly reckoned, was probably his
psychic bond with his other selves alerting him of their fate. A drizzle
of numbness washed over him as he stumbled aimlessly on the dirt floor,
a funeral drum pounding inside him. 

'They're all dead, and I'm the last reflection alive. The reason why I
feel 'whole' again is because they... the clones, the very fragments of
my soul... have returned to this body shortly after I became the only
surviving Minamino left in this godforsaken nightmare.' The young man
shuddered; Shuichi Minamino's childhood, puberty, adolescence, and their 
respective representations--Kurama's safety net of sorts in this phase
of his quest, come to think of it--were all gone now, and he could only
hope that they'd taken all of Toguro Ani's puppet monsters with them.

Just then, the hairs at the back of Kurama's neck stood on end as he
felt another person's electrifying presence manifest itself nearby. He
spared the Tikbalang's smiling carcass a deliberate and wary glance, its
rictus grin adding further to his growing squeamishness. "Who's there?"
he called out, but by the time his effeminate voice echoed across the
cavernous tunnels, he already had a good idea of just who arrived.

"Human."

Kurama soon found himself 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--his kitsune self. Before, he
would have been surprised and flabbergasted by the turn of events, but
certain circumstances had made him quite accustomed to this sort of
occurrence.

The demon stood upright before the boy, crouched in a ready stance.
Bright tendrils of livid youki emanated from every inch of his skin,
blazing around him, encircling him, lifting his hair in the updraft. He
held his hands before him, his fingers curled into claws. His narrowed
golden eyes shone with a fearless, feral gleam of righteous indignation.

"So you're still here, Youko Kurama," Kurama calmly assessed as he
turned around to face his opponent while idly fiddling through his hair
for some of his special shokubutsu seeds; unfortunately for him, his
wide array of plant weapons were all but used up in his long, arduous
battle against the half-man, half-horse Tikbalang. He frowned--he wasn't
sure how well he was going to fare against his original self with
anything less than a full arsenal. "Are you here to finish me off now?"

"Human," the silver-haired specter repeated, ignoring his alter ego's
obvious attempt to stall for time, "disappear from my midst." The threat
in his voice was definite as he wafted gracefully yet ominously towards
Kurama's personal space. 

"I'll do no such thing."

"We'll see."

Their face off was brief. 

Kurama swiftly evaded his opponent's looming advance and assumed a
loose defensive stance, bouncing on the balls of his feet with every
elusive sidestep. Meanwhile, Youko Kurama continued to stalk his
dexterous prey for a bit longer before stopping about three feet away
and falling into his own formless and fluid posture, ready to react to
anything; he reckoned that the redhead's sudden keenness for battle was
probably just a ruse--Kurama had yet to obtain a suitable weapon worthy
enough to take on the Class-S Makai Thief.

Youko Kurama eventually called Kurama's bluff and struck first with a 
frightening burst of undetectable speed, not bothering to use a plant
weapon to aid him lest he risk having his alter ego use it against him.

Even so, the demon had him on the defensive. He was barely eluding the
furious onslaught of razor-sharp claws. A minute later, Kurama saw the
glinting claws come from all directions and barely managed to leap out
of the way of the demon's flashing claws, tearing right through the air
where his torso had been.

His eyes widened. He knew the demon was fast, but the speed his other
self was displaying just now was something that would make even Hiei
impressed! 'I've never seen the youko so powerful before! What's going
on?'

"Fool." Another slash. He dodged, and it grazed his cheek, leaving a 
line of blood underneath his left eye. "You've made me this powerful...
and desperate. I'll do everything I can to stop you from your stupid
quest." And so the kitsune attacked in earnest.

Kurama dodged and twisted desperately, using every last bit of his
strength and agility to escape as and the power of his spirit energy
thrummed through his body like life blood. The demon didn't even give
him a chance to regain his bearings so that he could mount an offensive
attack. He was simply dodging, running, trying desperately to avoid
being turned into human confetti. And all the while, the demon's voice
echoed in his mind with a maddeningly effortless dialogue.

'Die. Die like the rest of your reflections. Whether there's one or a
thousand of you, it'll be my pleasure to destroy every last trace of
you, Minamino.' The youko pirouetted into a blur and sent revolving
backhanded slashes right at his quarry's legs at the dizzying rate of a 
chainsaw's whir. On impulse, the redhead leaped out of the way--

Not fast enough. Pain lanced through Kurama's side as four deep parallel
lacerations tore into his flank whilst he landed hard on his back.
Ignoring his searing agony, the young man immediately performed a strong
kip-up onto the youko's chest, but the annoyed fox merely swatted the
incoming legs away and Kurama landed awkwardly in front of him. In the
moment the boy needed to steady himself, the youko swiftly performed
four alternating stabs one after another, not giving the boy the chance
to even catch his breath. Kurama took the first three right on the
shoulder, chest, and jaw, but managed to block the last one to the eyes.

Youko Kurama continued seamlessly with a right punch to the temple, a
right slash to Kurama's gut, and a left backhanded fist to the face, all
blocked by the redhead. He then returned to his basic stance without an
opening for Kurama to counterattack with. 

Kurama shook his head to clear his mind of its cobwebs just as the youko
finally decided to go on a more ruthless, all-out offensive. He started 
delivering a series of rapid jabs, alternating right and left. All of
them were blocked, but the kitsune simply continued and didn't let up. He
slowly forced his opponent back into the Tikbalang's carcass as he
patiently waited for Kurama's guard to break under the constant assault. 

Another slash, grazing his arm. Kurama cursed silently. The demon was a
blur, a shadow, a flash of gleaming eyes in the haze of afterimages. And
even with his battle senses more or less up to the task, he couldn't
seem to get ahead offense-wise. Sure, he managed to make a lot of the 
youko's attacks miss, with the majority of them merely flashing through  
a hairbreadth away from him and tearing up the landscape--impressive,
certainly, the way even the missed strikes turned the rock formations
into crumbling dirt clods--but it was the youkai who was slowly gaining
momentum, not him.

The youko felt as if he were burning to his very pores, each and every
one of his senses flaring alive and screaming with exultation and bloody
murder. His beastly kitsune self swelled and surged with power, merging
with its host completely, its fierce ki and fighting spirit amplifying
the strength of his willful, prideful soul. He gazed at the hapless boy
before him stonily and didn't say a word. He didn't need to.

The demon's youki burned like a cool fire, just behind his eyes and
under his skin. It coursed through him, like lightning. The world around
him sang to his mind, vibrated within his senses like a tuning fork,
like a resonating crystal. He'd always been powerful, and nearly 
undefeatable during his prime; but this raw power, experienced through
the filter of his heightened awareness, nearly took his breath away. It
was as though, in that very moment, he'd become more powerful than he'd
ever been in his two lifetimes simply through confronting his human
self. Even after his centuries of experiences as a Makai demon, this was
the first time he'd ever felt these strange yet wonderful sensations. 

Gorgeous.

Horrifying.

No time to pause, no time to be amazed. Waving off his exhilaration and
burst of power as excitement over the abomination's impending demise,
Youko Kurama swiveled, a blur of bright ki, his clawed hands flashing,
his eyes gleaming savagely.

His prey shrieked in pain, unprepared for another impossible burst of
the youko's speed.

Kurama was in trouble. The youko was proving to be in another league
than he was as a fighter; he could barely keep his defenses up under the
constant barrage of damaging claw attacks, and at this rate he had yet
to launch a significant counterstrike. He couldn't lower his guard if he
didn't want to be hit repeatedly, and he couldn't counterattack without
lowering his guard; a perfect Catch-22. Then, just when he thought all
was lost, he felt something prick him underneath his shoed feet. His
eyes went wide with immediate understanding as the wheels and cogs
inside his head started to turn.

The smell of blood exploded in the youko's head. Blood, and something
darker that smelled of death. The stench assaulted his senses, and he 
staggered as if from a physical blow, even as he saw that he'd slashed
off a portion of one of the human's hind legs.

Scents of blood, of pain and fear and fury, the sound of the boy's
screams rasping in his sensitive ears, sending his skin crawling--the 
instincts of hunger and the hunt--it was all too much, too fast. The
cool fire of his power erupted with blistering heat, raging up in Youko
Kurama's soul with frightening, bestial vehemence. 'Dammit, it's always 
something with that irritating, annoying human...!'

For a moment, Youko Kurama's concentration nearly faltered. In sheer
frustration, the silver-haired demon lashed out with his hands, feeling
the claws of ki shoot from his curled fingers...

Kurama wasn't there. Swiftly, Youko Kurama turned: it seemed that the
human took advantage of the youko's distraction by suddenly ducking the
telegraphed strike and running away in a desperate manner reminiscent of
his sixteen-year-old reflection's flight just a little while ago.

Youko Kurama quickly recovered from his momentary shock, calmed himself
down, and watched the redhead's receding form listlessly. "How pathetic.
You're just as wretched as the other Minamino doppelgangers. Well,
you'll die like them as well." He disappeared half the blink of an eye
later.

Caught unawares by yet another split-second attack, Kurama's usually
topnotch defense finally gave in to the sheer speed and ruthless power
of the demon's sharp rain of blows, his uniform's vest and skin parting
cleanly beneath the youko's ki-powered claws. The boy's scream of pure
anguish was beautiful--raw, hoarse, with a slight gurgle... and quickly
silenced.

Through the fog of anticipation, the demon could see Kurama's body lying
on the ground. His long, thick, blood-red hair spread under him in a way
that was most becoming, considering that he looked like a corpse. His
skin was pale, near white with a bluish tinge. His green eyes were open,
but unseeing, and a trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth.

The Silver Fox blinked.

And yet, his chest rose and fell with rapid, shallow breaths. Kurama
let out a strangled, choking gasp of agony; in one hand, he clutched a
strange pendant he wore around his neck as though it were a lifesaver.
The piece of jewelry glowed with a faint and dim luminescence.

By the gods. Inari-sama, what did it take to kill this human?

The demon scowled. Ah well, he would just have force himself to dirty
his hands further and spill even more of his inferior alter ego's filthy
blood. What a pity. And so Youko Kurama lifted the boy's weakened body
up to its feet and raised his claws high to rend a larger and far more 
significant wound upon his luckless quarry. But just as he was about to
deliver the final blow, the kitsune hesitated. 'Wait. This is too easy.
Is this yet another ruse...?'

Youko Kurama reacted just in time--any later and his brains would have
been spilling on the ground like wet mulch. His hunch was right; the
human had been playing possum all this time, hiding a plant weapon and
striking at an opportune moment.

The Silver Fox emitted a bestial roar of agony as he pulled out the
long, thin plant blade entrenched deep inside the hollow flesh between
his collarbone and shoulder, and leapt out of harm's way. He landed
neatly on all fours, his claws splayed on the ground, tearing deep ruts
in the earth. He turned, all enthusiasm gone from his blazing, black 
countenance.

Kurama idly swung about the plant version of the bloodied chain-and-
sickle kusarigama he specifically crafted and used against his erstwhile
opponent, the Tikbalang, by turning the chain part into intertwined Rose
Whips, the sickle part into a refurbished Tsukeyaki Blade, and the
weight at the end of the chain into a spiked wooden sphere of sorts.

The youko's eyes widened in fury at the sight of the unexpectedly
cunning Kurama, then immediately narrowed with sudden understanding,
blue youki blazing about him in a surge of fury. 

It couldn't be, Youko Kurama raged silently. It was impossible. Then
again, obviously it wasn't, for there Kurama stood, ready to strike with
a weapon that served as an equalizer for their contest of wills. The 
youko had never been one to waste time arguing against the obvious; the
boy had intentionally dropped his guard and endured further injury in
order to get close enough to use the recently found shokubutsu implement
against the demon.

By this time, because of all the cautious circling between the twin
Kuramas, they'd already exchanged places, with the redhead at the edge
of the pit and the youko just beside the horse-man cadaver and its
demented death mask of a face. "My will shall be done, youko. I have no
worries, for there'll always be other chances for me to stop you;
besides which, I've already stopped you once before. It's not
unprecedented."

Kurama punctuated his bold statement by whirling his Kusarigama at the
kitsune in a zigzagging pattern and forming a continuous web of barbed
death around the rocky landscape through the angular ricochet of his
weapon's boomerang-like sickle. As per usual, Youko Kurama moved through
the pulsating mass of thorny vines with understated finesse and imposing
grace, but even a powerful demon like him could not escape the laws of
physics and Kurama's desperate resolve.

The fox demon just barely evaded the Kusarigama's edge by unperturbedly 
tilting his head to the side and letting the sharp sickle sail past him.
Several strands of silvery hair floated in front of his face as the blade
soundly embedded itself on the cave wall just behind him... just as the
redhead planned.

With a pointed glare and a hint of a smirk, Kurama suddenly pulled the
Tsukeyaki Blade out of the wall and let it violently stab Youko Kurama
from behind care of the sudden recoil. The kitsune grabbed his shoulder
and snarled in pain and realization; a distinctly inhuman sound. "You're
much more devious than I give you credit for, human."

As the flat edge of the bloody botanic blade landed on Kurama's palm, he 
somberly answered, "It isn't about deviousness at all. Simply put, my
will shall be done, youko. The true Minamino Shuichi will be--"

"Shut up. I don't want to hear that disgusting name anymore," Youko
Kurama brusquely interposed as he methodically circled his prey, his
mind racing for a suitable battle plan and an opportunity to launch his
counterattack. "Minamino Shuichi this, Matsui Asuka that... I'm sick and
tired of your whining. Well, I'll make sure that this will be the last
time I'll ever have to hear your worthless prattle--for the original
voice will always surpass the echo."

The Silver Fox had barely enough time to evade the dense ball of spiked
wood that headed straight for his face, but he still managed to do so.
Nevertheless, he soon realized his mistake, as his quick dodge left him
in the mercy of a whirling Rose Whip strike. The thorny vines that
snaked around him were even sharper than the thickest strands of
industrial grade piano wire or the sharpest tips of broken glass,
capable of rending even steel.

There was a red rain amidst the gnashing of teeth.

Kurama had now opted to make use of a far more acrobatic and offensive
approach, hurling his Kusarigama Shokubutsu at the youko as though they
were playing a deadlier version of jump rope, the weighted end serving
as leverage for the Bara Shibenjin's twirling spin.

"This'll be the last time, huh? I've heard that lofty speech of yours
before. You can't be beaten by anything less than a star's death? Well,
not even a star's death can stop me from reviving Asuka-san," Kurama
valiantly countered, well-aware that his alter ego was merely buying
himself some time whilst they both hurled thinly veiled threats and
insults at each other. "Perhaps it's about time you faced facts that
the so-called echo may eventually overcome the voice itself in the
end."  

Kurama swung his weapon in crescent-shaped arcs, creating a dancing
flurry of green that encircled both him and his other self. The youko
backed a couple of feet away from the deadly torrent, all the while
struggling to maintain his calm and composure as he continued to argue
with his human self. 

"Don't make me laugh. Such pitiful arrogance from a mere shadow! This
will prove to be your downfall." The youko saw Kurama offer an obvious
opening in his guard but didn't take it, immediately figuring out the
subterfuge that lay beneath the seemingly slipshod defense. He dared not
underestimate the dirty mongrel the same way the fool Toguro Ani and the
so-called puppet monsters did; he'd make damn well sure that he would
emerge the victor in this fight. "You should have finished me off with
your kusarigama when you had the chance earlier. You've just wasted a
once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, human."

For the moment, Youko Kurama gave up trying to counterattack in favor of
gauging the prowess of his foe. He went completely defensive, trying to
get an accurate feel of what the human was capable of. While he disliked 
retreating into a defensive shell, he accepted that the fight would end
a lot quicker if he demonstrated some patience. He wasn't as hot-
tempered as the young Yomi used to be, after all.

'It's very unlike him to be this emotional and cautious. Still, it's an 
advantage that I won't waste.' Kurama wordlessly made a dash straight
towards the youko, then instantly sidestepped towards his opponent's
blind spot, seemingly disappearing in a blink of an eye.

Something punctured the youko's abdomen from behind, just above his
pelvic bone, barely missing his spinal cord. Stunned, the demon looked
down to see a single, blood-stained Tsukeyaki Blade withdraw from his
body; a scourging thunderbolt from the blue.

"...."

The Silver Fox blinked slowly. The world seemed to have rolled to a
stop.

"I'm sorry, but this is your own fault. You weren't taking me seriously. 
You can say or do whatever you want, but when I say I'll stop you from
getting in the way of my quest, then there's absolutely nothing you can
do about it," Kurama quietly muttered with a tinge of regret as he
calmly walked away from the trembling kitsune. "It's such a shame,
really, but I can't give you the star's death that you desire. There's
too much at stake for that to happen. Please fade away, Youko Kurama."

The youko stumbled forward a step. He could feel the wound, long and
thin through his abdomen, soaking his pristine white clothes with blood.  

Not enough to gut him.

Enough to make him bleed to death.

"Minamino," the youko earnestly growled, nearly rasped, as he turned to
face Kurama, unmindful of his fatal wound. "I will not just fade away
into oblivion. Not like this."  The human continued to stand in ready
stance, seemingly unmindful of getting the upper hand in the duel.

It was then, in the numb calm that settled over him, that Youko Kurama
got the idea. The demon blinked, then looked at Kurama for a moment,
silent and unmoving. He afterwards spoke again, and, to the redhead's
surprise, his voice was tinged with unrelenting determination unfettered
by his own desperate situation.

"I'm afraid it's you who isn't taking me very seriously, human. You have
thoroughly underestimated the strength of my resolve." The youko raised
his hands in front of him, his fingers curled into claws. Youki flared
from the very core of his being, focusing into his palms, as Kurama
dashed forward to launch another attack.

Then, for a split second in the heat of battle, the two Kuramas' minds
became one, strangely sharing the same feelings of determination and
stubbornness despite their difference of goals. A bright kaleidoscope of
reminiscence flooded their harmonized psyche; a veritable torrent of
memories from both of their lifetimes. 

Phantoms from both present and past came into view in their mind's eye--
the pitiful scene of a weaker, more impetuous Yomi screaming in pain
after he lost his eyesight to a demonic assassin sent by the youko
himself; the foreboding image of a free spirited Kuronue running into a
bamboo-laden trap because of his own negligence and caprice; the vision
of a young and pregnant Shiori Minamino who was predestined to miscarry
because of a tragic miscalculation of fate--and pierced into their very
hearts and souls.

A stronger, wiser Yomi asked after Kurama's fight with Shigure in the
Makai Tournament, "Kurama, have you left your youko self behind?"

A dying Kuronue begged the youko after being impaled by an assortment
of sharpened bamboo shoots, "Kurama, run away! Save yourself!"

A motherly Shiori wistfully acquiesced to the six-year-old Shuichi,
"But you're right... nothing lasts forever. Even stars. Those stars...
they're 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."

The split second of eternity afterwards passed as a sparkling ray of
rainbow bright burst forth into the fore.

"I CAN'T DIE! Not after all this time! There's no reason for me to die
here! Not even Enma Daio or the Reikai Hunter can finish me off! I will
not let you have your way just like that!" Youko Kurama screamed as he
batted away the oncoming Tsukeyaki Blade and sheared the thorns off of
the Rose Whip attached to it, unmindful of the pooling blood near his
feet. "Nothing... nothing is stronger than the will to live!"

Kurama was taken aback by the sheer vehemence of the Silver Fox's words,
thinking, 'He's right. I never realized just how badly he wants to live.
I thought I understood how he felt, knowing of the steps he had taken to
survive and the beating his pride took when he was forced into Minamino
Shuichi's body, but it looks like I really have no idea of what drives
him forward at all. He still wants to live this life, even though it's
not really his.' 

The redhead dodged the telegraphed strike that the bleeding, exhausted,
yet ever-obstinate youko made by a hairbreadth, then whirled his spiked
mace in the opposite direction and made it curve towards the back of his
opponent's exposed skull. 'But why does he want to continue to live? Is
several hundred years still not enough for him? What's left for him to
live for anyway? Or can it be that his pride just cannot allow him to be
defeated by a mere 'abomination'? How can he be so desperate, so adamant
to win this fight for his life, yet at the same time seek a so-called
star's death? Is it merely his survival instincts acting up?'

Kurama afterwards felt it; the dreadful, nauseating mass of malevolent
energy that filled the entirety of the cave. As he unwillingly focused
on the peculiar and repulsive feeling, he soon discerned the origin of
the miasma of youki.

"You still don't understand, do you? Well then, let me demonstrate what
I mean, human." As the youko said the words, the youki in his claws
flared and swelled to unbelievable levels, enveloping their surroundings
with a misty, chilling blue fire. The choleric wave of energy swirled
and churned like the open seas as he soared into the air alongside
trailing streamers of cold flame. At the apex of his leap, the blazing
fractals in his surrounding his hand spun over his head, crackling with
energy as he hung above Kurama like the Sword of Damocles waiting to
fall. 

With the voice of a dozen spirits, the flame reached out for vengeance,
its voice echoing like the cry of the phoenix. It enclosed its purifying
fires and burnt like the dross. Afterwards, there was a sudden roar as
the youko plunged towards the redhead in a halo of fire. Automatically, 
Kurama tried to roll away from the impact and wound up skidding halfway
up the pit before he came to a stop against a wayward stalagmite. 

But the youko wasn't really aiming for Kurama's head, heart, or any other
body part; he was actually headed straight for the Tikbalang's unmoving
carcass, targeting it from the very beginning.

The second greatest surprise for Kurama at that moment was that nothing
seemed to happen when the youko struck the horse-man's body. The tips of
Youko Kurama's claws pierced an inch into the dead beast's chest, and he
hung in the air like a puppet on invisible strings. There was an almost 
oppressive silence, as if everything in the Dream World had chosen that
exact moment to hold it's breath and flinch away in expectation. Then, 
impossibly, the Tikbalang stared up at the youko, smiled a harlequin
grin that nearly split its face in two, and gently pulled the demon's
hand deeper unto itself. 

Then there was a massive explosion, a blinding light, a cloud of thick,
vile-smelling smoke, and when Kurama could see again, the Tikbalang was
gone, replaced by a mass on undulating, moist flesh which the boy had
become so unwillingly familiar with by now.

The greatest surprise for Kurama at the moment was what happened to the 
burning pile of plump Tikbalang mush inside the large and intense
conflagration it was immersed in. Squelching sounds and foul odors
filled the air, rousing Kurama from the turmoil of his shock and choking
him with their overpowering presence. Entrails, internal organs, grey
matter, and skin tissue started to crawl and creep towards the youko's 
forearm like countless worms, centipedes and snakes, coiling unto
themselves and coalescing into a knotty, pulsating mass of putrid bodily
fluids and biotic matter. 

This world of blood and shadow grew quiet for a little bit; the calm
before. 

Something subsequently crunched beneath the heavy bulk that was once the 
Tikbalang's body with an earsplitting series of muffled cracks, like
kindling snapping underneath a moist mantle. Afterwards, the mound
opened up like a blossom composed of multiple folds of white tissue and
gave birth to a grayish, pointed object. The ocean of flesh and blood
roiled violently onto the youko's waiting claws before they merged and 
impossibly disposed of their entire mass into a visibly sword-like
container; an organic blade made of flesh and bone. 

Kurama had seen the sword before--with leathery skin covering its hilt,
hardened bone acting as its blade, and wiry hair serving as its ornate
hand guard--it was the same sword that Toguro Ani changed into when he
and his younger brother first faced Yusuke and Kuwabara during the
Reikai-assigned mission to rescue the kidnapped Yukina from the hands
of the corrupt crime lord Tarukane. 

For the youko to change the diseased puppet monster's cadaver into a
weapon by the sheer force of his will was something that Kurama never
dreamed possible. It wasn't only out of character for the demon to do,
but it was also reckless and dangerous, considering that Toguro Ani
himself was too much of a loose cannon to be messed with.

He just couldn't believe that the demon had actually forced a piece of
the Elder Toguro's body to change shape just because he wanted to win
their fight so badly. The sheer amount of willpower needed to allow for
such an occurrence to happen must have been extraordinary--bordering on 
obsession, even. "Youko! To think you'd go to such great lengths...!"

"Damn your will, human. _My_ will be done." With an extraordinary burst
of speed, the youko lunged for Kurama using the sword composed of Toguro
Ani at varying, unpredictable intervals. As a result, the redhead was
barely able to deflect the first couple of attacks aimed at his head.
All the same, the demon persevered, increasing the pace of the fight
fivefold for a second before landing a slash to his victim's gut. Kurama
winced in pain as he gnashed his teeth; not only was the kitsune getting
faster, but his new weapon was also adding to his already bountiful
strength.

Kurama's first impulse was to get away. He didn't have time to think. He
could barely follow Youko Kurama's quick movements with his eyes; he had
to act now. The redhead promptly whirled the Kusarigama Shokubutsu in an
erratic arc by using a unique spin on its weighted end, intending to
halt his opponent's advance with a head-on attack. 

"Die," the youko said plainly as he hurtled towards Kurama at incredible
velocities, effortlessly turning everything in his path, including the
spiked wooden ball and a quarter of the chain-and-sickle plant's length
headed straight for him, into long shredded strips resembling excelsior
paper. The demon then mocked, "You disgust me, Minamino Shuichi. To
throw away your life for the sake of some misguided sense of kindness
is beyond reprehensible. If you're going to forsake this life, then let
me have it."

"...." Kurama stated as he staggered and wove through the youko's
follow-through slashes; only through pure reflex and skill did he avoid
getting cut into ribbons by the grotesque sword. Thus, in order to buy
himself some more time, he made do with the remaining three-quarters of
his Kusarigama to swing out of the sandpit and into the path leading
towards the third pillar of light. He sprinted forward, ignoring the
stinging, numbing ache of his myriad of injuries--Truth be told,
indecision cut through him far deeper than any of Youko Kurama's near-
miss strikes.

"And now your misguided sense of kindness has again made you second-
guess your own resolve. Pathetic and predictable," the youko sneered as
he pursued his prey then extended his Toguro Ani Sword right into
Kurama's thigh, nearly cracking the bone underneath with the force of
the stab. "If you really wish to return this life to its rightful owner,
then you have to choose between this unknown girl and myself, Minamino
Shuichi." 

'Don't make me choose! Please, don't make me choose!' Kurama silently
begged as he stumbled onto the charred surface from which the Kapre had
earlier attacked his other reflection. In the back of his mind, the boy
remembered his rather recent, bitter good-bye with his surrogate human
mother. 'I don't want to think about such things anymore. I can't... I
mean, this decision is difficult enough as it is! No more, please.'

"Huh. I reckon your childish selflessness will be your own undoing," the
youko observed after hearing more of his counterpart's mental whispers. 
Out of spite, he heedlessly increased his momentum yet again and swung
his semi-sentient sword about in every possible dead angle, forcing the
already hobbling Kurama to backpedal further into the very heart of the
Irima Cave's depths. And, like a brilliant light to a frantic moth, the
pulsating waves of the third pillar of light drew the redhead towards a
bogus refuge: the very cliff from where one of his fellow reflections
was murdered in cold blood.

In reality, the two Kuramas' eventual climb over the steep, rocky slope
happened rather quickly, but to them it felt like it went on forever.
The slashes of their respective weapons could not be heard over the roar
of their own exhilaration as they attacked each other viciously, grass
blade clashing against mutant sword, thorny whip grating against razor-
keen claws, and irresistible purpose conflicting against immovable
resolve. Their warpath extended from the forlorn stone of the cave to
even the foreboding tree trunk and leafless branches of the nearby
baobab tree, with blood, sweat, and odium spilling everywhere they
went.

Before long, the Tsukeyaki Blade shattered against the youko's beastly
weapon after repeated abuse, its fibrous splinters raining down on both
combatants. 'What incredible tenaciousness! The strength of his will to
live is unparalleled!' 

Kurama staggered to his knees in sheer fatigue, squeezing his eyes shut
and panting heavily. 'But that's not quite right either. From what I've
seen so far, it's his will to _win_ that's pushing him and his skills to 
unbelievable heights, something that's even greater than mere survival
instinct. He's really giving this fight his all, even though he was
at a disadvantage at first. And I myself am nearly at my limit after
merely battling with him for a few minutes. What an incredible fighter
you've become.'

Kurama subsequently balked after opening his eyes and stumbling upon the
grisly apparition that greeted them--a barely recognizable parody of
himself, thoroughly mutilated into a crimson morass of variegated human
body parts. It was only through his duplicate's disheveled red hair,
shredded Meiou High School Uniform, and his own common sense that he
identified the youko's last victim; because all that remained of the
fourth reflection was a subhuman pile of flesh and bone that seemed to
belong to some perverted meat section of the wet market.

Kurama screamed from the inside, his soul racked with panic, confusion,
revulsion, and terror, completely overwhelmed by the sight of his other
self's cadaver; a sick symbol of youko's imposing dominance over him. It
took nearly every last bit of his insurmountable willpower to calm his
frayed nerves down enough to assess the situation properly. 

'The monster that my other reflection fought is a completely different
beast compared to the person I'm fighting now. Granted, he was already
ruthless before, but now... this man before me is not acting like the
youko that I knew; he is neither being manipulative nor calculating in
any of his most recent actions.'

The redhead shivered reflexively before standing up, picking something
up on the ground and resuming his evasive maneuvers; it was a good thing
he did so, seeing that Youko Kurama would've decapitated him a second
later. 'It's strange. It's like I'm fighting another person altogether.
If I didn't know better, I would have sworn that it was Hiei or Yusuke
that's currently fighting me with the sheer amount of recklessness he's 
displaying. Just what exactly happened to you, youko?'

Soon enough, after finally recovering from the shock of fighting a youko
that he'd never met before in his life, Kurama halted his retreat and
confronted his demonic aggressor. Accordingly, the two halves of the
same whole paused briefly before engaging in fierce combat at the edge
of the forlorn cliff overlooking the third pillar. Chaos ensued.

'Amazing. I can barely keep up with the tempo of Youko Kurama's assault,
let alone launch my own counterattacks. To think that, just a minute
ago, _he_ was the one in a bind because of the stab wound I gave him!' 
Something clicked inside Kurama's mind as he narrowly escaped unwanted
death by a hairbreadth and a millisecond time and time again.

'Wait a second. This fight doesn't make sense. He should be bleeding to
death by now, even more so seeing that he's moving around so much. I'm
the one who should have the advantage; why am I on the defensive?'
Kurama narrowed his eyes. 'Could it be that...?'

Youko Kurama growled and stared at the empty space that he lunged into 
in slight annoyance. The human Kurama had stepped away from the deadly
attack, thus falling off the cliff and unceremoniously plunging into
the glistening depths of the underground river below.

But Kurama was no fool. His body might have been weaker than his mulish
opponent's, but his mind remained as sharp as it was during the days
when he and the youko were one and the same person: Youko Kurama, the
most ruthless thief in all of the Demon World. Said ruthless thief
realized this once he saw his red-haired counterpart swing up the
crevice, sailing past him with the use of the ever-reliable rose whip.
The boy landed safely on the riverbank a good distance away from his
youkai self after that. 

Feeling a grim chill drip down his back, Kurama jumped forward from
where he had landed and turned. It appeared that, in a blindingly swift
instant that defied all known laws of real world logic and physics, the
youko tailed the boy and came up to him from behind. 

"Huh. That was unexpected. Well, the fact that you've been hounding me
all this time is also unexpected, so I shouldn't even feel surprised
anymore. But, truth be told, I still find you a bit _too_ surprising,
youko." Kurama was also surprised at how calm his voice sounded amidst
his repetitive bouts of astonishment.


***


To be Continued...

Next: The Representative of Autumn.

Author's Note: I don't like this chapter very much, and it took
too long to write. But I had to get through it, to get to the good
stuff lying up ahead. Pardon any perceived mess. In any case, the
current arc is nearly done. Now for the hopefully _less_ epic and
_more_ conclusive arcs. I personally can't wait; can you? ^_^

Send all C&C, flames, death threats, etc. to me at either
gabriel_gabdiel at yahoo.com or chester.castaneda at gmail.com;
whichever suits your fancy.

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: Yuyu Hakusho is the rightful property of Yoshihiro
Togashi, Shueisha, Fuji TV and St. Pierrot. Le Petit Prince is the
property of Antoine de Saint-Exupery. This fic therefore also
belongs to Yoshihiro Togashi, Shueisha, Fuji TV, St. Pierrot, and
Antoine de Saint-Exupery. I doubt they care.

Matatagag, tagapagtanggol ng inaapi,
Abdiel




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