One Night in Kyoto

A Yuu Yuu Hakusho story

by Amparo Bertram
dedicated to Kurama no Miko


Kurama shifted the weight of the duffel slung over his shoulder and increased his pace, noticing he was falling behind the other three, so involved had he become in examining his surroundings. It wasn't that he had a great deal to see in this ordinary section of the city--and even if he did, he would have a much better opportunity the next day with the sun shining rather than during the darkness of evening--but his instincts rebelled against sleeping in new territory without first checking it thoroughly.

The leader of their little group paused to read the copy of the directions that had been faxed to him. "This is where we turn right," he announced, indicating a narrow street, the corner marked by a shop with a lit sign sporting an image of Western cowboy boots.

"Are we almost there?" Shuuichi asked, once more wrestling with his overstuffed and poorly balanced bag.

"Almost," his father assured him, setting off down the side street.

It was summer vacation, and Kurama's stepfather had brought them to Kyoto as the first part of their family outing. They would be spending three nights at a small ryokan that a business acquaintance had recommended. There were large hotels closer to Kyoto Station, but the family had agreed that the more personal service would be preferable, especially since they had come in order to experience a change from their everyday environment in Tokyo.

The four of them crossed a small bridge, passed a public bath house, and finally arrived at the ryokan's front door. They proceeded gratefully inside, more than ready to check in and relax for the remainder of the night.

Kurama removed his shoes and left them in the cubby provided, then entertained himself reading the event announcements posted on the wall while his stepfather collected the keys to their rooms. Judging by the amount of the material written in English, there was a strong slant toward informing foreign tourists of local attractions.

He trailed after Shuuichi as the boy struggled to maneuver his bag up the narrow stairs to their room without losing either his grip on the wooden bar attached to the key or the unfamiliar guest slippers. He paused to note the locations of the bathing and restroom facilities--both Western and traditional Japanese style--as the friendly innkeeper pointed them out to Shiori. By the time he reached his room, his stepbrother had the door open and was setting his belongings inside with an exaggerated sigh of relief.

The room, a double, was roughly the size of his bedroom at home, if not smaller. The only furnishings were a low table holding a medium television and a tea set for two, a pair of folded futon with towels and yukata on top, and two sitting pillows. There would barely be space against the walls for their bags once the futon were laid out, yet the overall impression was cozy rather than cramped.

Shuuichi checked the remote control for the air conditioner to be certain everything was to his satisfaction, then he clicked on the TV and settled down on the tatami to watch.

Shaking his head at how some things never changed, Kurama pulled the door closed and poured himself a cup of hot water for tea. It was good to ignore the rest of the world for a while. His secret life as a Reikai Tantei was more difficult to keep hidden from his family now that he was working for his stepfather. Teachers had never pryed into his affairs when he missed a few days here and there, since he always made up the work and it hardly affected his test scores, but he couldn't count on that any longer.

With Hiei in the Makai, Kuwabara immersed in plans for supporting Yukina, and Yuusuke and Keiko making up for lost time, he felt reluctant to impose on any of them to relieve his everyday stress. They kept themselves fully occupied outside their duties to Koenma; he ought to do the same and plunge into his human life, finding new sources of satisfaction to balance any lingering discontent.

He sipped at the bitter liquid slowly, allowing it to leach the last traces of travel weariness from him. This vacation with his family was exactly what he needed to distract him from otherworldly complications. When he had drained the cup, he replaced it on the tray and unpacked a book to read while his stepbrother remained riveted to the glowing screen.

Finally the program ended and the two undressed for bed. Kurama shut off the light and curled up beneath the fluffy coverlet, the futon so comfortable it seemed like lying on a cloud. He was fast asleep moments after he closed his eyes.

His internal clock told him it was barely after midnight when he jolted awake, roused by low voices passing outside his room. His alert senses probed the darkness for danger, but he soon realized from the foreign cadence of the language that it must be other guests of the ryokan returning to their room after a late-night bath. To a jet-lagged tourist it must be like early afternoon, and he couldn't blame them for feeling the impulse to wander. If his instincts weren't sharpened by his youko nature, he probably wouldn't have detected the slight disturbance.

Yawning, he sat up, the majority of his drowsiness driven away by the surge of adrenaline that had accompanied his unexpected awakening. He could burrow back under the covers and wait for dreams to reclaim him, but it occurred to him that it was the ideal opportunity to take a leisurely soak without worrying that he would delay his family in the morning.

Moving as silently as his skill permitted, he dug his personal items out of his duffel and headed downstairs, leaving the door unlocked so he wouldn't have to carry the cumbersome key. He let himself into the private room with the Japanese bath and turned the wooden sign so that it would read "occupied." He stripped down in the outer chamber, leaving his nightclothes in the basket, and stepped into the bath chamber.

Sitting on one of the low plastic stools, he used the shower head in its holder affixed to the wall to wash away the day's accumulation of sweat. It was awkward to manipulate the hand-held spray to rinse the last of the shampoo suds from his long, thick hair, but not too difficult a challenge for the Makai's most talented thief.

He smiled at that thought as he spent one final moment enjoying the stream of water before shutting it off. The infamous Kurama, known and feared by every youkai with possessions worth stealing, testing his mettle against a ningen shower. He stood and wrung some of the water from his dark red locks, wishing briefly that he could shake himself dry like his kitsune aspect. Instead the drops trickled down his bare skin, already beginning to cool in the air currents caused by his motions.

He dragged off the wooden boards covering the bath and sank gracefully into the heated water with a pleased sigh. He closed his eyes and savored the warmth seeping through to his bones. He hadn't taken the time for a proper bath in months. He should really do this more often; it might help take his mind off of...

He slid deeper, until the surface lapped at his mouth in a gentle caress. He had been doing his best to suppress the thought, but here, alone and vulnerable, he could no longer deny its existence.

He wasn't happy.

He could pretend his hectic lifestyle caused the disharmony he felt, but he knew that wasn't the whole truth. He had everything he believed he wanted--the presence of his mother, a full-time job, good friends, and the taste of excitement brought by his missions--yet he still awoke in the night haunted by youko dreams of succeeding at the perfect theft but letting the greatest treasure slip through his fingers.

The fleeting memory of that loss gave him chills not even the water could soothe.

His hands clenched into fists against his thighs in an attempt to dispel the aura of weakness. He couldn't imagine what more he might unconsciously wish out of life, but he refused to allow a nameless desire to chip away at his self-control. He had been happy before...before...just *before*. He would be again.

Noticing as he released his sudden tension that his fingertips were starting to wrinkle from the soaking, he dragged himself from the bath and wrapped himself in his towel, then replaced the cover to hold in the heat for the next person and prevent any soap from splashing into the water. He gathered up his belongings, belted on his yukata, and flipped the sign on the door to its original position.

As he made his way back up the stairs, he pondered the evident emptiness inside him. Something was missing, something vital to his well-being, and he couldn't take steps to acquire it until he determined its identity. What did he lack? What could possibly throw his entire life off kilter merely by its absence? What more did he need than family, friends, and a solid purpose could provide?

He removed his slippers beside his room before treading upon the tatami, then reached for the knob. His hand froze, trembling, as his eyes lit for the first time upon the name marking the door. His breath caught painfully as his lips sounded out the four Roman letters.

He shook himself out of his shocked daze and darted inside, closing the door behind him and leaning against it while urging his heart to stop racing. The door had been open when he arrived; he had only ever looked at its inner surface. He had vaguely been aware that other rooms he passed in the hallway bore the names of mountains, but this...

"Hiei," he whispered into the darkness, half accusing, half beseeching. He hugged himself at the unmistakable flutter the single word provoked, still not certain what his wild surge of emotion signified.

Swiftly, unable to stand being so confined when it seemed as though something was bursting inside, he dressed and fled the slumbering ryokan. His agility serving him well, he climbed to the nearest open roof, desperate to feel the air around him, the warm breeze running invisible fingers through his damp hair.

He was sorry not to have the companionship of the fire demon, he readily admitted that, but it wasn't as if they never saw each other. They still connected for Reikai business--the prior commitment took precedence over Mukuro's tasks--and the youkai appeared at Kurama's bedroom window when he needed the fox's skills. Kurama missed having someone around to tease, someone with a similar background who could read him so well it was almost like telepathy; however, none of that explained the lonely echo in his soul when he probed the space that Hiei had filled.

He had parted ways with friends before, many times. Often the separation was from growing apart, occasionally it was due to a conflict of interest, betrayal, or death. This he had counted among the least painful variety. They both pursued the lives they desired, and there was no hint of hostility between them. Why, then, when he reviewed his extensive memory, did this one hurt the most?

The deliberate footstep behind him was as eloquent as a verbal reproach.

Hiei's expression, when the redhead turned to face him, reiterated the admonishment. If he had been an enemy, the distracted youko might already be dead. Kurama wasted no energy on excuses, since there would be no point. He merely sighed and folded his legs into a comfortable sitting position. "What are you doing here?"

The fire demon blinked at the query. "That's what I came to find out from you. You weren't home."

"It's called a vacation. You should try it," he teased, but his spirit wasn't in it.

Hiei easily picked up on the note of sadness behind the other's words. He tilted his head in negation. "Not if *this* is the result." He wouldn't ask, but his steady gaze was the equal of a dozen probing questions.

Kurama wasn't sure how to respond. His relief at the youkai's concerned presence mixed with the aching anticipation of the moment he would leave again. Confronted by the one person who could make his world complete, the fox didn't know what to say to convince him not to go. He rubbed his eyes, suddenly tired. "You were supposed to be mine," he murmured.

A whisper of cloth accompanied the smaller demon's movement. When he spoke, his low voice came from right beside the redhead's ear. "Hn. Took you long enough."

Kurama jerked in shock at the acknowledgment. "What...?" The smug youkai quirked his lips, extremely self-satisfied. "You mean, you knew I felt this way? How?"

Hiei snorted. "A blind oni could have figured it out."

"But this isn't--I never--" He frowned in exasperation, mostly at himself. "Why didn't you *tell* me I was in love with you?"

He realized how ridiculous he sounded the instant the demand left his mouth, but his friend took him seriously. A touch as gentle as starlight elicited shivers from the youko as Hiei stroked his upturned cheek. "Nothing so important should be that easy."

"So..." He swallowed, hardly able to believe what was happening. His feelings had grown so subtly over the years he had spent with the smaller demon, he hadn't recognized when he crossed the line dividing appreciation from something much deeper. "What do we do?"

"Do?" Hiei repeated, curious. He stared at his hand as if in surprise, then withdrew it and turned to regard the view of the city. "I've waited for you until now. A few more decades, and you'll have no more ties to keep you here. I can wait until then."

Kurama stifled an instinctive protest, not because he didn't wish to voice it but for fear it would emerge as an inarticulate whimper. To be so close, to understand at last what his heart craved, and then to return to his previous isolation...he didn't know if he could bear it. Yet neither could he leave his loved ones here in the Ningenkai. If that was the only compromise Hiei would accept...

Perhaps it was a slight quiver of the fire demon's shoulders, a subliminal catch in his breath, or even a brush of the bond that had always seemed to link their minds. Whatever the cause, it struck him in a rush that Hiei didn't intend for them to be separated. The fox pushed himself up on his knees and wrapped his arms tightly around his friend's waist. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the physical contact as well as the mingling of their youki. He had been dwelling so intently on what was missing in his life, it hadn't occurred to him to wonder what the other might desire.

To be wanted. To be needed.

"Stay," he commanded simply.

He felt the vibration beneath his hands as the fire demon chuckled. "And you're supposed to be the polite one."

Kurama smiled and rested contentedly against the youkai's back. "I have everyone fooled." The tea, the bath, the summer air--the sensations that gave him the most comfort--all were shadows of the greater heat he now held close.

As the silence continued, however, he started to worry. What if it was already too late? He had been positive that once he made his wish known, the smaller demon would at least give him an assurance in return, even if not exactly the type to melt in his arms. Perhaps that choice no longer existed. "Can you?" he finally asked, managing to keep his voice more wistful than anxious. "Can you be with me?"

Hiei shifted his weight. "I promised my service to Mukuro," he began thoughtfully, "and she is powerful." He took the fox's hands and unclasped them so he could step out of the confining circle and turn around. "...But not stupid," he concluded, using his unrelinquished grip to draw himself nearer until he stood with his legs to either side of Kurama's thighs.

Struggling with breathlessness at the openly inviting nature of his friend's actions, the youko paused to marvel that the aggressive demon had been able to show such restraint in the past. Yet without the period of enforced separation, he would still be taking their companionship for granted.

He leaned into the slow, deliberate caresses with which Hiei explored him. Strong fingertips traced his brow, the curve of his neck, the lines of his chest beneath his hastily fastened shirt. Nevermore to be denied, the hungry mouth planted burning kisses along his jaw, savoring each taste.

The memories of work, of responsibilities and pressures, drifted away under that seductive touch. Before his limbs became too liquid to support him, he slid up the length of the other's body and pressed his lips to one ear. "If you follow me home," he suggested, "can I keep you?"

The answer was sweeter than he could have imagined.

The End

Author's Note:

No, it's not just a Convenient Plot Device. The ryokan actually exists, and I've stayed in the room described. (The Kurama room is right around the corner...)

[Anime]


© 1999 Amparo Bertram