* * *
Yusuke muttered something nebulous, and turned over in his sleep.
Kurama smiled gently, and idly wondered what he was dreaming of. He stretched
from the position he had been sitting in since everyone else decided to get
some sleep, and stood up. He left the room, quietly closing the door behind
him, and walked down the hallway. The silver moonlight spilled in the windows,
pooling around his feet as he walked on. He opened the door to the bathroom and
turned the light on.
Kurama shrugged his clothes off and stepped into the shower. He was
surviving by concentrating on the moment, and right now his hair needed
washing. He hesitated as he reached for the water dial. A warm shower would run
the risk of making him sleepier, but he was so cold... He turned the shower
onto hot.
It was so warm, almost boiling. Kurama sighed in contentment as the
heat started to leach through his skin, warming his cold body and chilled soul.
He ducked his head under the nozzle, closing his eyes as the spray of water
plastered his hair against his face.
After a few minutes, he stood up and reached for the bottle of shampoo
that had been conveniently found in the storage closet. He poured a little into
his hand and sniffed it. It, like most things in this strange place, had no
scent. He sighed and scrubbed it into his hair anyway.
He wondered, briefly, while rinsing his hair before applying more
shampoo, why the four of them were here. He didn't believe in random anomalies
- someone had brought them here, and for a purpose. He didn't know who, though,
and certainly not why. Working backwards - if it was to kill them, who? The
enemies they'd made as a group were all dead. One of his old enemies, or one of
Hiei's? Kurama didn't know how old Hiei was; he'd never asked. So it was
possible that Hiei had as many old "friends" as he did. And if it was one of
_his_ old enemies...
Kurama had been out of the circulation of Makai gossip too long to
know if any of them had enough power or favors owed to them to do this. But if
they were here for _another_ purpose, then what was it? To destroy those
shadows?
Kurama shivered, suddenly cold inside again. He raised his left hand
to his heart and closed his eyes, feeling the band of ice surrounding his heart
suddenly, painfully, contract. <Get out of my body!> he thought furiously. But
it didn't do any good - and he really hadn't expected it to. He sighed and
lowered his hand.
"And that still leaves the question of who brought us here," he said,
setting down the soap he'd been using. He stepped forward, back underneath the
hot water. His eyes closed again as it ran over him, washing his body clean
with its warm, soothing touch. His body began to relax and loosen as his
breathing deepened and slowed. He was tired, and it felt so good... it wouldn't
hurt to rest for just a few minutes, would it?
<Yes, it would,> he told himself. He opened his eyes and turned off
the water. He began to grow cold again as he stepped out of the stall and tied
a towel around his waist. He ignored it and started toweling his hair dry.
After most of the dampness had been absorbed by the cloth, he started
running a comb through his hair. Without conditioner, it had a nasty tendency
to knot. But he _liked_ long hair. He felt comfortable with it, yet another
carryover from his youko life to his human life. He smiled as he remembered his
mother's reaction to his growing his hair out. But this was one thing he hadn't
given in on, and she'd admitted, two years later, when it was at a
semi-respectable length, that it actually looked good on him. Even if it added
to his already somewhat feminine looks.
<Mom...> he thought, <I wonder if I'll ever see you again, now?>
Because if he was going to be perfectly honest with himself, the chances got
less and less the longer they were here. And with this thing inside of him now,
the odds were vanishingly small, even if the others got out of this alive, that
he would survive it.
He sat down and leaned back against the cool wall, thinking. <I'm not
afraid of death,> he thought truthfully. <I was going to trade my life for
Mom's, until Yusuke shared his life force with mine, so that neither of us
would die. I owe Yusuke my life, even if he doesn't think of it like that. And
I guess...he'll have to take it. Or Hiei will. Or Kuwabara...>
Kurama closed his eyes as he thought how his death would affect
them...his mother...his friends at school. He buried his head in his arms as he
began to shake, crying. He wasn't afraid of death, but he didn't want to die,
either.
Hot tears dropped from his eyes, seeming to burn him where they
landed. He hadn't known that there was that much warmth left in his body; it
certainly didn't seem like it. And none of it was reaching him where he was
coldest. Even during his soft sobs, he couldn't forget the ice surrounding his
heart.
It was poisoning him, mind and body, against his friends, against
himself. And it would kill him, and probably them, before it was done. He
couldn't let that happen; his life was inconsequential, but theirs were not.
<I'll kill myself before I'll let that happen,> he thought. <And if I
can't...if it won't let me...then they'll have to.>
He wondered how long it had been since he'd last cried, really cried.
He'd been tearless for so long. It seemed like centuries, and it probably was.
<I don't want to die...> he thought. <I don't want to die!>
Eventually, though, his tears stopped, and he stood up and got
dressed, calm once again. The sun was beginning to light the meadow, he saw, as
he opened the door of the house. An endless day stretched before him, filled
with the shadows in his mind. A day to fight being tired, to fight to keep
control of himself from the creature within him, to fight for his life and his
friends'. He looked out at the forest, at the deep shadows lurking there,
inviting him, threatening him. <I won't let you win,> he thought, turning and
going back into the house. <You may get me, but you can't get all of us. You
can't kill them. I won't let you.>