Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction ❯ A New Dawn ❯ Superman: Chapter 2 ( Chapter 3 )

DISCLAIMER: Don't own it. Never will.

 

AN: Happy snow time, lovely readers! I am VERY happy because right now it is snowing heavily here in Missouri and the weather report expects at least 3 inches! YAY! I LOVE SNOW!

 

But whatever, you're here to read the story, not hear about my current happiness.

 

Okay, so anyway…this chapter went in a TOTALLY different direction than I expected, but that's okay, because I like this version better. It gives me more to write, an extra chapter to add, makes the fic last longer, which is also a cause for celebration—to me, anyway.

 

- - - - - - - - - -

 

I can't stand to fly.

I'm not that naïve.

I'm just out to find

A better part of me.

 

* * *

 

Flashback

 

“Did you do it, kid?”

 

Hiei suppressed a smile, and held up the heavy silk bag he had in his left hand, sheathing the sword that was almost as tall as he was with his right.

 

The demon who had questioned him took it and hefted it, looking mildly suspicious.

 

“Go on, count it if you like,” Hiei said, knowing full well why he was apprehensive and not feeling offended in the least. “It's all there, all the scout said there would be.”

 

That was enough—the demon had never truly believed that Hiei had taken anything for himself. He smiled and turned back to the subject of their conversation. “This will make Jien happy enough. You're good, kid.”

 

Hiei gave a small, fanged grin, and did not let his happiness show. It had taken time to earn the trust and friendship of this band of thieves, and he always liked to be reminded of it. “I'm a fair thief—and certainly better than you—” The grin became more pronounced—“but I'm not up to the level I aspire to.”

 

His fellow thief rolled his eyes. “Will you give it up? You will never reach the level of Yoko Kurama. No one will, even Jien. He admits it himself. Set your sights a little lower, or you'll end up disappointed…”

 

End flashback

 

* * *

 

I'm more than a bird.

I'm more than a plane,

More than some pretty face beside a train.

It's not easy to be me.

 

* * *

 

If only you could be here now, Kei…

 

Hiei had no doubt that his old friend would have known exactly what to do in this situation. He would have known instantly whether or not to kill the redhead, whether or not to believe him.

 

But Kei was dead. He had died before Hiei had been tossed out by Jien. He had died because of the danger Hiei brought. He had died saving Hiei…

 

Hiei jerked himself roughly back to the present, away from the image of the sword running Kei through, his blood saturating his shirt almost instantly, and back to the present issue—whether or not to believe the redhead's outrageous claim.

 

Hiei had still been a small boy, barely five, when Kei had told him about Yoko Kurama. But he had been old enough to know instantly that he wanted to be exactly like the wild kitsune thief of legend. He had spent most of his life—until recently—honing his skills, striving to reach his goal.

 

He had heard that Yoko had disappeared about ten years ago, that he had been shot in a moment of recklessness. He hadn't expected to ever hear of him again. But now, here was this little human boy, claiming to be his idol…it was utterly ridiculous, and a good-sized part of him wanted to kill the kid and move on.

 

And yet…

 

And yet, there was that youki he had felt the moment he had entered the Ningenkai. Where had that come from?

 

Well, that was easy to answer—it was clear, now he was so close. It was coming from the boy, but…

 

Hiei had never felt anything like this human's ki before. It was as if the kid was divided in two from the inside. Half his ki was youki, strong and wild and untamed, and half was ningenki, fragile and soft and gentle. There was also an almost tangible sadness around him, and a powerful tangle of confusion…

 

Well, he understood how that last one felt, and he thought it no wonder that the guy was annoyed with him.

 

What do I do?

 

* * *

 

Wish that I could cry,

Fall upon my knees,

Find a way to lie

About a home I'll never see.

 

* * *

 

Suuichi could almost see the thoughts if the little demon as he worked things out. He knew that Hiei was deciding whether or not he was telling the truth, whether or not it was even possible. He knew that Hiei was trying to work out his mixed ki, his appearance, how he could be Yoko Kurama. He saw the point when Hiei started to remember something, forced himself to stop, and drifted back again. He saw the point when Hiei almost decided to kill him, and the point when he changed his mind.

 

And he saw the point when Hiei decided to trust him, but not too much, and only for now.

 

So it didn't come as a surprise to him when Hiei met his eyes, nodded once, and sheathed his sword. He still didn't speak. His silence would have been annoying if Suuichi wasn't such a quiet person himself. As it was, it was still a little disconcerting.

 

“Listen, I still don't really know who you are, or why you've come here.” And I imagine you're wondering the same about me. “But you seem a little tired, and I am, too. Why don't you come home with me, and we can talk?”

 

Hiei just watched him.

 

He could outstare Yomi, and Yomi doesn't need to blink, Suuichi thought uneasily, remembering the blind demon who had been one of his worst enemies. No one's gaze had ever unnerved him like that, and that, perhaps, was what caused him to roll his eyes and say, “Fine, whatever,” and give up entirely.

 

He was walking quickly toward his house, having just turned his back quite firmly on the little fire demon, his mind still a muddle of confusion, but now that was coupled with irritation, which was perhaps why he didn't immediately notice that there were two sets of shoes slapping the cement sidewalk instead of one.

 

That fact registered about ten feet from his house, and he turned quickly, thinking, Am I ever going to get home?

 

The thought flew abruptly from his head when he saw who was following him. Hiei Jaganshi was walking serenely down the street, for all the world as though he belonged in Tokyo and knew exactly where he was going.

 

Suuichi fought back a smile. He was well practiced with this, and by the time Hiei caught up, his face was determinedly impassive.

 

* * *

 

It may sound absurd,

But don't be naïve.

Even heroes have the right to bleed.

I may be disturbed,

But don't you concede.

Even heroes have the right to dream.

It's not easy to be me.

 

* * *

 

Suuichi didn't speak as he led Hiei into his house. He was trying to decide the best way to approach the topic on his mind. To give himself thinking time, he simply watched Hiei, who was looking uneasily around the small vestibule, his hand back on his sword hilt—out of habit, it seemed. Though he hid it well, Suuichi was adept at reading people, and he could tell that the small hiyoukai was uneasy.

 

Suuichi was at a loss for words, and he didn't quite understand why. To keep the silence from stretching on any more—he was already jumpy enough, for some reason—he said, “Kitchen's through here. I'm going to get something to eat. Are—”

 

His question was cut off as Hiei walked silently past him in the direction Suuichi had indicated. After a moment Suuichi followed him, trying to decide whether to be offended or amused.

 

Amusement won out when he saw Hiei standing in the warm, spotless kitchen, staring at the refrigerator, the stove, the microwave, and the oven as if unsure whether or not they were alive and dangerous. The soft whirring that came from the running dishwasher seemed to disturb him more than anything else, for his eyes darted to it frequently, and each time his hand strayed to his sword.

 

Suuichi permitted himself a smile, but held his laughter in. “Are you hungry?” he asked as he walked past Hiei to one of the brown wood cabinets, and took down a plate and a glass. He turned in time to notice Hiei's hesitation before he shook his head. He was clearly lying—from the look of him he hadn't eaten in days, but he seemed to be well acquainted with hunger. Suuichi debated forcing the issue and then decided against it—it might make Hiei even more uncomfortable here. But that conclusion didn't stop Suuichi from carefully letting Hiei see everything he took out of the fridge and cabinets as he threw together a sandwich of cold chicken, lettuce, and cheese. Hiei met the subtle challenge well, and simply didn't look at him.

 

The kitchen was entirely silent as Suuichi sat down at the table and began to eat, after gesturing for Hiei to sit down, too. To his surprise, Hiei complied without argument, and carefully looked anywhere but Suuichi's sandwich.

 

As the quiet stretched on, Hiei began to relax. Out of the corner of his eye, Suuichi watched his hand fall to his side, away from his sword, and his shoulders become less tense. He let the silence continue until Hiei was almost completely relaxed—he was obviously too cautious to let his guard down all the way—and then said, in an offhand way, “You're the Forbidden Child, aren't you?”

 

* * *

 

Up, up and away,

Away from me.

It's all right.

You can all sleep sound tonight.

I'm not crazy

Or anything.

 

* * *

 

Hiei twitched, but seemed to be practiced at not reacting overmuch to that question, though it must have caused him great pain.

 

What kind of life has he had, to be so able to mask his emotions?

 

To Suuichi's surprise, Hiei actually answered him. “I am. What do you care?”

 

It didn't seem like a rhetorical question, somehow, and Suuichi took a slow bite of his sandwich, chewing to give himself time to think of his answer. “Well, I had just heard a lot about you, when I lived in Makai, And I noticed your wards, and put two and two together, and I just…wondered,” he finished, somewhat lamely. He glanced at Hiei, who was still looking intently away from him. “I'm sorry.”

 

Hiei seemed to forget entirely about the sandwich, and his stoic poker face. It couldn't have been clearer that he had never heard those words, in that order, directed at him, in his life. He fixed his eyes on Suuichi, and they became less guarded. “Why?”

 

Suuichi was taken aback for a moment at the question. “Well…because no one should have to go through what you have.”

 

Even as he said the words, he realized how confusing they would be to Hiei, who had grown up in a place where no one gave a damn about another's well-being. They sounded strange to him, come to think of it, and he wondered for a moment why he had said them. But then he simply attributed it to this new feeling inside him, and left it at that.

 

There was another silence, during which Suuichi finished his sandwich and then simply sat and watched Hiei, who looked determinedly at the table.

 

After a moment, he spoke—to the table, it seemed.

 

“So how do you know about me, anyway?”

 

Suuichi was surprised by this question, but managed not to show it in his face. “You know who I am. I could see it from your reaction to my name. So you must know that I lived in Makai for centuries. Am I correct?”

 

Hiei nodded, his thoughts clear for once. Where is this going?

“Then how can you ask me that?”

 

When Hiei continued to look baffled, Suuichi was struck by a realization.

 

“Wait…don't you know?”

 

Hiei shook his head, ever so slightly.

 

“Hiei, you're the most famous demon born this century!” Suuichi said, speaking Hiei's name for the first time that night. If he hadn't been so intent on straightening all this out, he would have noticed how much he liked the feeling of saying it—but alas, he was too distracted. “Do you have any idea how many people know of you?!”

 

Apparently, the answer was no, for Hiei's face was blank. “Why?”

 

“Why?” Suuichi repeated incredulously. “Are you serious?” But he knew Hiei was—he really hadn't had any idea how famous he was, how feared. “Well, there's your heritage, for one…”

 

“I knew that one,” Hiei muttered. “But that doesn't mean they all know of me…”

 

It was the longest string of words he had uttered all night, and it seemed to surprise him, for he fell silent and stared at the table again.

 

“That isn't the only contributing factor. You're a Jaganshi. Obviously people will know of you. You must know how rare they are. How did you get it anyway? How do you control it? And why did you get it?”

 

Hiei shrugged and spoke in short, choppy sentences. “Saw a guy. Convinced him to give it to me. Worker hard, for months.” He ignored the last question entirely.

 

Seeing that he didn't want to talk about it, he added, “And then, of course, there's your Jaou Ensatsu Koku Ryu Ha and your Jaou Ensatsu Ken and, for that matter, your Jaou Ensatsu Rengoku Shou.” (AN: Literally translated, those are something like: “Flying Black Dragon Wave of Destruction” and “Sword of the Darkness Flame” and “Fists of the Mortal Flame.” I wanted to find just the “Dragon of the Darkness Flame” but I couldn't. I got these off some fan listing or other, so if they're wrong please overlook it and don't yell at me. Sorry for interrupting the story!)

 

Hiei showed no sign of pain at the mention of his most dangerous weapons—though he showed no pleasure either—so Suuichi figured it was okay to keep talking.

 

“That's what actually brought news of you to me, you know. People are most frightened of your weapons. You mastered them all, and people are sure now that you can do anything, so you scare them. And…well, word gets around twice as fast by fear.” Suuichi shrugged. “So naturally I heard of you.” He took a swallow of water and looked at Hiei, who was staring again at the table. “How did you learn about me?”

 

“You know my story. Where do you think I heard about you?” Another extended phrase.

 

“I only know that you were born in the Ice World and thrown out because you were a man.” Suuichi shrugged. “I don't know where you went after that.”

 

Hiei grunted, and seemed to think for a moment, before telling his story in a few short sentences. He told about being found by the band of thieves, and being raised by them, and learning if the famous thief Yoko Kurama from a fellow thief. Then he fell silent, looking as if he would never recover from the number of words he had spoken.

 

“So why are you in the Ningenkai?” Suuichi asked. You don't belong here.

 

The silence that followed his question was the longest yet. Then Hiei said, in a voice with absolutely no emotion, “That isn't your business, and it isn't something I want to talk about.”

 

And from the finality in his voice, Suuichi knew that their conversation was over.

 

* * *

 

I can't stand to fly.

I'm not that naïve.

Men weren't meant to ride

With clouds between their knees.

 

* * *

 

Suuichi sat at the table for a while longer, carefully not looking at Hiei unless he was sure Hiei was looking the other way. The hiyoukai did not look angry, but he did look resolute. He was not going to tell why he was here, either because it was a secret or simply because he was embarrassed.

 

But even though he was silent to the point of being unnerving, secretive to the point of being annoying, he was also…intriguing. His guard seemed to be collapsing, against his will, and Suuichi suddenly knew many things about him. For instance, it was obvious that he didn't know the first thing about trust or friendship. He clearly preferred to work alone.

 

But it was just as obvious that he had known friendship and trust once. This was shown by the fact that he had not taken Suuichi's life immediately upon finding him, after the initial swing—and even that, upon reflection, had really been rather half-hearted, designed to subdue rather than kill. Someone had taught him not to kill on sight, but rather to find out about the opponent first, and learn if he was a potential ally. And in Makai, this was rare—there it was kill first, think later. Most just didn't care to pass on their wisdom, but someone had cared enough about Hiei to teach him these things. A friend, someone Hiei had trusted.

 

But what had happened to this friend? Why was Hiei not with that demon now? What made him so angry? For he was clearly as angry as he was sad—both emotions threatened to overcome his power, each present in so much force that it was impossible to tell which would win, each restrained with difficulty by Hiei himself. It was apparent that he was locked in a constant battle with himself to keep his power from swelling and bursting at the seams, to destroy him and many others, and it was also evident that this war had been going on for a very long time. Even so, the slightest nudge might change everything. The problem was, that nudge could either be for the good, or the bad. Suuichi immediately vowed that he would not be the one to give Hiei that push in the wrong direction.

 

And then there were all the other emotions that Hiei had to contend with, beyond the sadness and anger and mad power struggle with his own body. They existed in lesser amounts, but they were still there, and making themselves known. Confusion, physical and metal pain, and a well-contained, ever-present, pushed away and carefully ignored fear.

 

In fact, the only emotion that Hiei Jaganshi did not seem to possess was joy.

 

How does he survive feeling all this?

 

But an even more important question was:

 

What do I do now?

 

* * *

 

I'm only a man in a silly red sheet,

Digging for kryptonite on this one way street.

I'm only a man in a funny red sheet,

Looking for special things inside of me.

Inside of me.

Inside me.

Yeah, inside me.

Inside of me.

 

* * *

 

Suuichi reached his decision in moments—there really hadn't been many options. He stood abruptly and said, “I'm tired. I'm going to go up to bed, I guess. You can stay here, if you want. Living room's through there, and the couch is comfortable. Maybe tomorrow you could tell me why you're here. Maybe I could help you find whatever you're looking for.”

 

Hiei looked impassively at him, and then got up and left the kitchen without looking back. He did not go to the living room, but back into the hall. Suuichi heard the door open and then close, and then he was alone in the house.

 

He stood there, for a long time, and then he turned slowly and walked toward the stairs that led up to his bedroom, his mind spinning with a thousand questions.

 

He felt as if he had crammed years of life into the last few hours. It was so hard to believe that only that afternoon he had been walking home from school, still as haughty and superior as ever, convinced that soon, he would be going home. He had been so happy mere hours earlier—how could things have changed so?

 

He had not expected to be in this world tonight. He had planned on heading back to Makai the moment he was out of sight of humans. It had been all he could think about. What did he care that Shiori would be terrified at the disappearance of her “son”? What did it matter if she was alone again, as long as he was happy? His goal, his sole reason for living, for the past ten years, had been to get back to Makai. That was his life.

 

But all of his priorities had shifted very suddenly when he'd walked into his house and seen his mother lying on the kitchen floor. His first thought had been, What is she doing home already? That had been followed closely by, Why is she sleeping on the floor?

 

And then the realization had crashed down on him with something like the force of a twelve-story building falling from the sky directly onto his head. Shiori was not asleep, but unconscious.

 

Things had blurred after that. Suuichi vaguely remembered calling an ambulance, strange men in white uniforms surrounding him and lifting Shiori into the ambulance, waiting for a good three hours in the hospital waiting room…

 

Then things abruptly became clearer.

 

He remembered the look on the doctor's face when he had finally showed up, the questioning of where Suuichi's father was, was there someone hw could call, who would take care of him. He remembered the doubtful look on the doctor's face when he insisted that he could take care of himself.

 

He remembered demanding to know what had happened, and he also remembered being told that it was complicated. And he remembered the doctor finally relenting to his demands, empty threats—well, empty to the doctor, who thought that Suuichi was an average ten-year-old who could be bribed to do anything for sweets, including stopping asking about his very ill mother—and pleas, and telling him of the disease that was slowly killing his mother.

 

He doubted that he'd ever forget that moment, when the world had fallen away and the only things left were Suuichi, the doctor, and a sudden, sick feeling in his gut. All thoughts of leaving for Makai fled very suddenly and left an indistinct, untraceable sort of panic.

 

He guessed he must have left then—everything sort of slid out of focus again after he had been told the news. All he could recall was trying to pin down the feeling he had gotten when he had been told Shiori's seemingly inevitable fate.

 

And then he had met Hiei, who for some reason confused him more than anything else that had happened tonight.

 

* * *

 

I'm only a man

In a funny red sheet.

I'm only a man

Looking for a dream.

 

* * *

 

“He seemed trustworthy enough.”

 

That's because he's Yoko Kurama, you idiot. Of course he can act.

 

“But he could have killed me at any point when I was in his house, and he didn't.”

 

He could be planning something. He's Yoko Kurama.

 

“I know who he is! Stop telling me!” Hiei snapped, and the voice in his head fell silent, allowing him to think freely.

 

He had been in a state of terrible uncertainty since he had closed the door of the Minamono house behind him over two hours before. Since then he had done nothing but walk around noisy, confusing Tokyo, having the same circular argument with himself over and over again until he was struggling with all his might to control himself, his frustration, and his power.

 

He had thousands of questions, and no answers, and it annoyed him.

 

Kurama—Hiei truly had no idea what to call him, really, but that seemed best, for some reason—had seemed oddly interested in him, but why? What was he doing in the Ningenkai, and in a human's body? What was behind his sudden disappearance from Makai ten years ago, and why hadn't he gone back? What had brought the heartbreak Hiei felt leaping off him? Why could Hiei not detect the deceit that Kurama was supposed to hold in abundance? Why had he offered to help Hiei with his mission if he had no ulterior motives? Should Hiei go back and reveal everything, or would that be a mistake? There was no denying that he could use help—he had no idea where to even begin—but what if he went back and found that the famous Yoko Kurama really did just want his head on a silver platter?

 

And why—oh, why, why, why—must Kurama be so beautiful, even in human form?

 

* * *

 

I'm only a man

In a funny red sheet,

And it's not easy,

Hmmm, hmmm, hmmm…

 

* * *

 

Suuichi woke about an hour before dawn, and for a moment, he wasn't sure what had woken him. Then he heard soft noises down in the kitchen, the sound of someone who didn't want to be heard.

 

Alarmed, he sat up and scrambled out of bed. Without even bothering to grab a shirt, he pulled open the door to his room and ran down the hall. He took the steps two at a time and skidded into the kitchen, stopping short at the sight that met his eyes.

 

Hiei Jaganshi was sitting in his kitchen. Unlike the last time he had been in the house, he seemed to be trying to relax. His sword sheath had been removed from his hip, and was lying on the table. Hiei himself was seated in a chair, looking around with far more interest than before.

 

When he sensed Suuichi standing in the doorway, he turned quickly. His eyebrows raised when he took in the sight of the kitsune/human, clad only in a pair of black jeans that he had been too tired to change out of the night before. He was far more muscled than a ten-year-old should have been, and Hiei flushed slightly and looked away, speaking to the wall.

 

“I'm searching for my sister. And…I guess I could use some help.”

 

There was a silence as Suuichi stared at Hiei and Hiei stared at the wall. Then Suuichi said, in a blasé, light voice that betrayed exactly none of his confusion, “I guess I should go put a shirt on, then.”

 

* * *

 

It's not easy to be me.

 

- - - - - - - - - -

 

Please, please, PLEASE review!!! I beg thee!

 

Oh, and also, thank you very much to all of you who assured me that my fic is not boring! You have no idea how much you all raised my self-esteem!

 

- - - - - - - - - -

 

Reviewers' comments:

 

Catie-brie: Well, I didn't actually twist their meeting on purpose—I really don't know for sure how it went down—but I'm glad it was different! I didn't want it to be exactly like the show because who wants to read that? Anyway, thanks for the review, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter, too!

 

Nikkler: I always wondered what was going on in those freaky, beautiful heads…I don't know if this was what was going on in their minds, but it's how I imagine it. Thanks for the review!

 

KyoHana: Thankyouthankyouthankyou! Do you have any idea how much reviews like the one you sent for the last chapter mean to me? Because they mean…well, a lot. A whole, whole, whole lot. Thanks so much!

 

sil-kurama: I don't want to give away everything, but one thing I will tell you is that I will definitely not be killing Shiori in this story. I don't think I could do that. I like her too much, even though she was hardly in the show at all. Thanks for the review!

 

Kooriya Yui: Thanks for your review! I'm glad I didn't create a catastrophe…*ducks under table in case I made the sky fall*