Echoes XII Akumu It started with the darkness ... Mad, narrow eyes smiling at him; first an insane, empty violet, then suddenly filling with cold, cruel calculation, and suddenly, the light was blocked out by a huge shadow; two large, ghostly wings spread over him, surrounding him like a dark cloak and making him shiver in sudden cold. Absently, he hugged himself, trying to shrug body heat back into himself, uncertain of whether to stay or to move. And those shadows above him, those dark wings, seemed to block everything out, keeping him lost in blackness. Before him, a gray figure coalesced, a paler shade of gray than the inky dark that surrounded him. Though he couldn’t quite recognize the hulking shape, he could feel a distinct dark sense of foreboding; he knew that shape, that form, but a part of his mind refused to acknowledge it. Slowly, like a wavering reflection in a silvery pool, features appeared on the shape - mindless, catslitted purple eyes that sparkled with a dumb hunger; a thrusting jaw that sported broken yellow-gray teeth, a thin bead of spittle dangling from the right. Shivering, he backed up, terrified. Memories rose, threatened to drown him; faces that called his name, accusing; blue eyes narrow and dark with pain, accompanied by a hoarse voice that ordered him to run, to save himself. And those same eyes, full of a grim determination as they stared upon the small, dark sleeping form of a little girl, barely ten or eleven years old. And the downward slash of white that sliced it all in half, leaving him temporarily blinded, deafened by the voices from his past, as they rose to curse him, call him, assaulting him and leaving him weak and defenseless as a newborn kit. He shuddered, pressed his hands to his ears, slid to his knees, and sobbed, the sound alien and strange to his ears. When he looked up, his vision blurred by the veil of tears, he saw the creature hovering over him, intimidating and horribly dangerous, and it seemed to be smiling at him. One huge paw-like appendage rose, threatening, and for a moment, the dark wing-like shadows parted, allowing the light to glitter off the edge of those damn claws as they came streaking down to earth, striking him full in the chest and wiping out awareness in a blinding rush of pain. Kurama came to with a shriek of fear, thrashing violently and sitting upright, the sheets fluttering around him, forming a cocoon around his body, damp with cold sweat. His heart pounded in the ears, mixed with the hoarse rasp of his breathing, and he couldn’t seem to stop shaking. Gingerly, he wrapped his arms around himself and ducked his head against his chest, began to rock back and forth, keening softly to himself. The rest of the world withdrew, and he was caught in his own private world of fear. Around him, he could sense movement, but his senses felt dulled, and since there did not seem to be any threat from those with him, he felt it was safe to ignore them, to try and calm his ragged breathing. The hands that grasped his shoulders made him flinch, involuntarily, and he looked up, meeting black eyes that hovered so close to his, darker than usual with some strange emotion; and there was a voice, soft and close by, speaking in tones of vague concern that filtered into hearing. And then, he felt as if he had awoken again, snapping from his daze with a start and nearly collapsing into his brother’s arms, barely able to stop the last sob as it hiccuped from him. Hands were stroking his hair in a slow, soothing motion; parent comforting the frightened child. At first, there was an overwhelming desire to pull away, to hide from unfriendly eyes, from the hulking figure that haunted his sleep, then that slowly died away, a familiar scent weaving into his mind. Lips brushed his forehead warmly as he was rocked, slowly, a low voice crooning in his ear. There was the sound of a window slithering open, bringing with it a sudden chill breeze and rapid footsteps that stopped at the bedside. Cautiously, he turned his face from his brother’s shirt, and saw his lover’s face peering at him, red eyes shadowed by moonlight and quietly intense emotion. With a tug, Kurama pulled from his brother and reached out, clutching the front of his lover’s dark shirt and dragging the small youkai closer, pressing his forehead against the steady heartbeat in his lover’s chest. A hand stroked his back, comforting, and he heard Hiei’s soft, dark voice asking questions over his head, and his brother’s quiet response. All he cared was that the shapes were gone, the nightmare banished, and that he was safe. The sobs of fear were dying before they could escape, and finally, drained to the point of exhaustion, he lay compliant in his brother’s arms as Yo-mawari pulled him back, allowed him to recline against the solid warmth of his chest, comfort in his mere presence. “What did you see?” he heard his brother ask softly, even as his hand resumed absently stroking his hair. “What was the nightmare about this time?” Swallowing hard, trying to force his voice past the lump in his throat, he responded, eyes drifting closed even as he did. “Darkness. I saw - I saw - oh, gods, I don’t know what I saw ...” he hiccuped, took a deep, unsteady breath. “Actually, no. That’s a lie. I know what I saw.” His voice was grim, face set, unable to see the worried expression that appeared on his brother’s face. “It was big. And heavily built. I’ll give you three guesses.” Yo-mawari hissed, his brow knitting as his black eyes met his master’s. Though the small youkai’s face remained impassive, his bright red eyes were deeply troubled, concern for the redhead plainly visible to anyone who knew where to look. Hiei crawled onto the bed and knelt beside the two of them, one small hand reaching out hesitantly to touch the smooth flesh of Kurama’s cheek, and, without opening his eyes, the redhead turned his face, nuzzling the open palm, then subsiding. Yo-mawari smiled involuntarily, worry smoothing out into love; his twin had either fallen asleep in the loose embrace, or was so close to sleep it didn’t matter. It wasn’t that hard to slide out from under Kurama’s limp body and settle him under the blankets; almost at once, the dozing fox turned and snuggling himself to Hiei’s seated figure, one slender hand worming up to rest on the fire youkai’s knee. With a sigh, Yo-mawari looked up from his brother’s now-peaceful face, meeting his master’s gaze evenly. “Every night, he has these nightmares. And every night, they get worse,” he said in a low voice, a frown darkening his features. “And every time, he sees the Creature. It’s becoming an obsession for him, and he won’t allow himself to sleep unless he absolutely cannot help it - I doubt he’s gotten more than ten unbroken hours of sleep since we got back.” He shifted slightly on the bed, folded his arms across his chest. “Ryoko-san called yesterday, asking what was wrong with him - she says he’s been a walking zombie ever since he came back, and that his appearance and manners are really starting to alarm anyone. But since he’s the boss, they can’t make him take a vacation.” Hiei’s expression didn’t change, though his eyes darkened as he looked down at the sleeper curled so close to him. He took his lover’s hand into his own, rubbing it gently, voice low and deep when he spoke. “Amazing, that a human woman would care so much for him.” Despite himself, Yo-mawari smiled. “Why, Meijin-san ...” he said, with a sly, hidden grin, “I do believe you’re jealous.” Hiei snorted in reply, and the youko allowed himself a small chuckle before continuing. “Kyoudai-kun has been friends with Ryoko-san since college. He thinks of her almost as a sister; and she’s probably his closest friend, out of our little group. She doesn’t know he’s a youko, but she does know about me. And you.” Hiei started, looking up with narrowed eyes. “What do you mean by that?” he asked evenly, his hands stilling in their gentle ministrations to Kurama’s palm. Yo-mawari shrugged. “I met her when she dropped by the apartment for a surprise visit - you were out on a field job for Mukuro-san, and kyoudai-kun was on a walk. She thought I was ‘Minamino-san’, dying my hair black, and scolded me about it - she thought it was a real shame, hiding the real red color.” He shook his head, chuckling softly. “She was in the process of asking me how my ‘sweetie’ was doing when Kurama returned.” A twinkle of amused memory, the corners of his lips turning up further. “It was rather amusing, really, watching the two of them trying to explain to the other the situation. He told her I was some long-lost twin or something - some ningen thing that apparently satisfied her curiosity. And she still asked him about you - she’s known about you for a very long time. I think she was the first person he confided in, outside of Yuusuke, Kuwabara, and the girls.” Hiei only snorted, shaking his head, then looked back at his sleeping lover. “Stupid fox,” he chided in a low voice. “Both of you. Stupid.” Yo-mawari smiled, briefly, then sobered again. “The point is, Meijin-san, that I’m really getting worried. Eventually, Shiori-san is going to find out something’s bothering him and what if he decides to tell her everything? Everything? It would be hard enough for her to believe her precious son is actually a ruthless fox demon, but to know his lover is a man, and that he has a brother - a twin - as well?” Yo-mawari shook his head. “Yuusuke-kun and the others are noticing, too. Yukina-chan has asked him to let her help, but he refuses. And I don’t know why.” His face and voice were grave as he studied Hiei’s profile in the dying moonlight. “Has he said anything to you? Anything at all?” Hiei shook his head; a sharp, quick motion, not looking up. “Iie - he always avoids my questions. He’s just too damn good at that.” “He’s had over four centuries of practice,” Yo-mawari reminded him gently. “And he’s always been a rather private person. You’re the first lover he’s taken that he’s taken steps to insure you’ll be permanent. The others - the others, he always knew he would leave them one day, or they would leave him. I think - I think he’s afraid that, if you know what’s bothering him, you’ll leave. Just like all the others did. There were several others he wanted to keep with him, but they left, because he let them see parts of him that he usually hid. He thinks that’s what’ll happen with you. After all, Meijin-san, your hatred of weakness is almost legendary.” Yo-mawari tried to smile, but it didn’t quite curve his mouth enough. He sighed, ducked his head. “He’s desperately afraid you’ll leave him.” Hiei remained quiet throughout the entire speech, still rubbing Kurama’s hand lightly. It took him a few moments to speak up, his voice hoarse and vaguely troubled when he did. “How do you know all this?” he asked, once the youko had finished, his fingers tightening their grip on his lover’s hand almost imperceptibly. “Did he tell you?” “Not in the way one would tell someone anything, no,” Yo-mawari murmured, drawing his knees up to his chest and hugging them in a curiously childish gesture. “Our mental link ... sometimes, we let things slip that we don’t intend to. I see parts of him that he never wanted to show me, and vice versa. That’s how I found out about this.” He tapped his forehead with one finger, and shook his head sadly. “I wish there was something I could do to help him with this,” he added unhappily, “but there isn’t.” With a smooth, easy motion, the dark-haired tall man straightened, sliding his legs over the side of the bed and standing, looking quietly at them. “I’m going back to sleep now,” he announced quietly. “Call me if kyoudai has another nightmare. Oyasumi nasai ...” Hiei nodded once as Yo-mawari walked out of the room, then slid down so that he lay parallel to his lover, reaching out and tugging the redhead closer, settling his lover’s head under his own and rubbing his cheek against the soft red hair. He spent the rest of the night staring blankly at the wall, his mind troubled as he pondered what he had been told. He had always seen Kurama as the strong one; the initiator and the one who broke off any and all relationships. He hadn’t known. Couldn’t have known, because his stupid, overly proud Kurama refused to tell him anything. Granted, he still believed weakness was something to be frowned upon, destroyed if it got in the way, but ... this was different. And just what would the youko say if he knew the same things haunted his own sleep? If he knew that the same fear haunted his waking moments, his dreams? With a sigh, he tightened the grip of his arms around his lover’s slender shoulders. In the morning. In the morning, when all dark things were lightened; when he was calmer, when he’d had more time to process what he had just learned. He would make the stupid fox talk to him, explain just what was going on with those damned nightmares; would make him understand that, no matter what, they were stuck together. Even if Kurama decided to leave the relationship, he would never be rid of Hiei. The fire youkai would follow him, remain a dark shadow on the edge of his life and awareness, watch over him and make sure he was happy. No matter what. Kurama had his arms crossed on the table, atop the open newspaper, resting his cheek against the crossed juncture. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was relatively even, the half-full cup of coffee untouched by his limp hand. He didn’t stir when Yo-mawari entered, yawning slightly, then pausing at the sight, the dark-haired twin studying his redheaded counterpart with a small frown. He stood in the doorway, thoughtful, shifting his weight slightly when Hiei appeared, worming through the thin space between flesh and the doorway, padding towards Kurama with a purposeful stride. There was a soft sigh; Kurama shifted slightly in his chair, turning his head, but otherwise, he didn’t move. Hiei stopped at his side, resting his hands on the tabletop, not far from Kurama’s arms, then looked back at Yo-mawari. His red eyes were calm, though they conveyed a single message, in that strange bond that existed between the youko and his brother’s lover. Not as clear as the one between the two twins, but enough for him to understand the gist of what Hiei wanted from him. He smiled a bit, then nodded. “I’ll call Ryoko-san and tell her he won’t be at the office,” he offered quietly, and Hiei nodded once, before returning to his lover, one small hand reaching out to grasp and shake the closest shoulder gently. The redhead stirred slightly, yawned widely, and opened one eye enough to see both Hiei and Yo-mawari looking at him. He growled something that was probably intended to be a greeting, then closed that eye again, settling deeper into his makeshift pillow. “If you don’t get up now, my dear brother,” Yo-mawari spoke up from his place in the doorway, “you’re going to be late for work.” His twin’s slender body stiffened slightly at that, this time both eyes gracing him with their dazed green stare. “Of course,” the taller man added, moving and walking over to the table and kneeling so that he was almost eye-level with his brother, “if you think I’m going to let you walk out of here in the state you’re in, I’m afraid you don’t know me as well as you thought.” He smiled, almost whimsically, and reached out to ruffle Kurama’s hair. The action got him a snort of protest as his brother brought his arms up to cover his head as best he could. “Too far behind already,” Kurama mumbled as an excuse. “Can’t ’ford ’nother vacation.” He sighed, and straightened, swaying a little. “I’ll be fine,” he grumbled, running his hands haphazardly through his long hair and shaking his head vigorously. “Jus’ need a li’l more coffee, and I’ll be up t’ normal in no time.” Hiei’s hand caught his wrist as he reached for his cup, stopping the movement in midair. Red eyes met startled green ones in silent command. “You heard what your brother said,” the small youkai said calmly, though there was an underlying tone of command that indicated he was not going to listen to Kurama’s argument. “You’re running on your last legs, Kurama,” he told his lover bluntly, watching the shadows rise and dance in the redhead’s eyes. “Walk out of this apartment, and you’ll be open to any stray youkai or any ningen gang that happens across you.” Something sparked in his eyes - amusement? concern? - then was quickly hidden. “I doubt your mother would appreciate it if you allowed yourself to get hurt.” He didn’t say anything specifically about him, and Kurama’s face darkened, a frown appearing as he tried to pull his hand free. Hiei said nothing else, only tightened his grip in silent challenge. They were at a standstill, neither willing to take it to a more violent level. Yo-mawari remained on the sidelines, content to wait this one out. Minutes passed, dragging out, each one seemingly longer than its predecessor. Finally, Kurama dropped his eyes, allowed his arm to go limp in Hiei’s grasp, fingers drooping loosely. Slender shoulders slumped, as if he had suffered some great defeat, and when Hiei released his hand, it fell back to his side like a dead weight, swinging loosely. The redhead’s entire body swayed, though he refused to say anything, and, alarmed, Yo-mawari took a step forward, just in time to catch his twin as the smaller man’s knees buckled and gave way, nearly sending him to the floor. It wasn’t hard to see the problem; Kurama’s skin was paler than usual, the veins dark blue and highly visible under his white flesh, throbbing frantically with every beat of his heart, and under his closed eyes, wide dark bruise-like rings were plainly visible. Long red lashes fluttered uncertainly, as if he were trying to wake up, but the weights of his eyelids were too great to overcome. Yo-mawari smoothed a hand over his brother’s forehead and shook his head sadly. “Stupid,” he chided softly, bending slightly to swing his arm under his twin’s long legs, then straightened, cradling him like a child against his chest. Kurama shifted, muttered something incoherent, then subsided again, compliant in his twin’s arms, as he had been the night before. Hiei followed the two of them silently as brother carried brother back to the bedroom, settling the other into the sheets and stepping back to watch him. Asleep, like this, his delicate beauty was accented, though the darkened rings under his eyes marred it, and he seemed no more and no less than a young man - overworked, and desperately tired. Yo-mawari sighed and ran a hand through his long dark hair, shaking his head, then looked back at his master. “You sit with him, Meijin,” he offered, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “I’m going out for a bit.” Hiei didn’t reply, following him with his eyes as he left the room, then walked to Kurama’s bedside, sitting on the futon and taking one limp hand in his own, quietly watching his partner’s face. Kuraihana held the teacup before her nose, her eyes narrow as she watched Yo-mawari over the ceramic rim. Her uncle’s dark twin was obviously troubled, his black eyes fixed on the tiny ripples that formed in the clear, pale brown liquid. His hands were wrapped firmly around the heated cup, his elbows carefully balanced on his knees. His black coloring seemed to blend with his surroundings, creating the illusion of unbroken shadows; he fit into the somber darkness of her home perfectly, as if he had always been there, or as if she had been subconsciously preparing her home for his presence. “Yo-mawari-san,” she said finally, setting her cup down with a loud clink. He didn’t stir, still fascinated by the tiny movements of his tea. “Yo-mawari-san!” she repeated, raising her voice a little. He started, shook himself, then looked up at her, his gaze sheepish as he smiled in apology. “Gomen ne, Kuraihana-san,” he said softly, dropping his gaze again. “I’ve got a lot to think about.” “Obviously,” she snorted, frowning. “You’ve been moping ever since you came. Now,” she got to her feet, padding over to where he sat, and knelt at his feet, “are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or will I have to fight you for information every step of the way?” She raised a questioning eyebrow at him, and he actually flushed, a faint scarlet darkening his cheeks. “It’s about Kurama, ne?” she asked gently, reaching out and tugging the cup from his limp hands. They were cold, despite holding the tea, and she rubbed at them absently, trying to chafe the circulation back into his fingers. “You’re worried about him because he won’t tell you about something that’s bothering him.” He blinked. “How did you -” “I grew up under his care,” she reminded him. “I’ve known him all my life, and I know what he’s like. Or was like. Being human has ... changed him. But not as much as he might think.” She smiled, at that, shaking her head. “Otousan used to have that same look on his face when he was brooding over Kurama.” She reached up, tapping him lightly on the nose. “I recognize that glower.” He laughed, pulling his face back. “Kyoudai’s good at that sort of thing,” he said dryly, his eyes dropping down to their joined hands. “He’s just being stubborn.” “He’s always being stubborn.” A smile cracked his composure at that, and he rolled his eyes. “Hai, but this is one time I wish he wasn’t. He won’t tell anyone anything, just holds it in like it’s some great treasure that he has to protect with his life. Everything that’s happened to him over the past few months is bottled up, and the pressure’s building. He’ll explode, if something doesn’t happen soon.” She hissed, softly, blue eyes darkening. “He hasn’t talked about *any*thing that’s happened to him?” she asked, her usually gentle voice sharp with worry. When he shook his head, she looked away, off to the right, her brow furrowing as she thought. “I’m no counselor, but I know that’s not healthy. You’ve got to make him talk, or he’ll make himself sick.” Yo-mawari pulled his hands from hers roughly, an angry sneer curling his lip. “You don’t think I know that?” he demanded hotly. “He’s my brother! I have a link with him that you don’t, and I know that this isn’t good for him! You don’t need to lecture me about it -” “He might be your brother, and you might have a mental link, but I have known him all my life!” Kuraihana spat in reply, pulling back, her back stiffening and blue eyes flashing. “I have as much right to be worried about him as you do! I love him too, you know!” They glared at each other for a few moments, before Yo-mawari relented, dropping his head, focusing his eyes on her hands. “Gomen ne, Kuraihana-san,” he said again. “I suppose this is getting to me more than I originally thought.” Her eyes softened, reaching up and forward, taking his hands again. “I understand,” she told him quietly. “He can be a frustrating character. I know that. But you have to talk to him. You know what will happen if he bottles it up for much longer.” She sought his gaze, held it with her own, concerned orbs of sapphire blue that sparked in her pale face. “Promise you’ll try to help him.” He smiled, pulling his hands free for the second time and taking her face in between his palms. “You don’t have to ask, Kuraihana-san,” he said solemnly. “You don’t even have to ask.” Kurama was silent. “Damn it, fox! Use your brain! You’re making yourself sick!” Hiei exploded, slamming his fist down into the futon. He glared at his lover, frustrated, tilting his head to one side, trying to catch the latter’s eyes. Kurama’s face was turned away from him, long strands of his red hair draped like a shielding veil, effectively hiding it from his eyes. “Kurama.” He leaned over, reaching out to brush the long, wild hair from the youko’s face, frowning when he felt the body under his fingertips flinch. “Kurama, what is wrong? How can anyone help you if you won’t talk?” he demanded in a low voice, bending over his lover, mouth close to the exposed ear. “Come on. Talk,” he hissed angrily. The redhead only shifted, pulled away from him. The wide, expressive green eyes were closed, and his mouth was set in a frown. His hands were balled into fists at his side, his body stiff and unresponsive. Hiei growled something fierce under his breath, reaching out to take Kurama’s delicate face between both hands, roughly turning it so that, if the eyes had been open, the fox would have been forced to look directly at Hiei. The fire youkai bent close, so that the two of them were nose-to-nose, and spoke, his voice dark and almost too low to be heard. “Kurama. I don’t know what the hell’s gotten into you. But I’m not letting you out of this room until you give me a straight answer. Do you understand?” Kurama remained silent. Hiei stared at him for a few moments, then pulled away. “K’so!” he swore, under his breath. The fox knew that he would not be able to harm him, physically, and therefore would push him as far as Hiei’s limits would allow. This was getting ridiculous. “I meant it,” he told the youko quietly. “I’m not letting you out of this room until you talk.” He slid off the bed and settled himself in a chair, turning so that he could bring his legs up to rest on the chair’s right arm. Crossing his arms across his chest, he shifted, closing his eyes halfway and watching Kurama’s unmoving form from the corner of his eye warily. After an hour or so of relative peace, Hiei began to relax slightly, close to dozing off, when Kurama’s shriek rent the air, beating at his ears. He was out of the chair in a flash, running to Kurama’s side and reaching out, pushing down firmly on his lover’s shoulders, trying to keep the slender body from bucking completely off the bed. There was a pained grimace on Kurama’s face, his eyes tightly shut, tears seeping from the corners. His voice was hoarse, cracking with fear and pain and he screamed. At first, it seemed as if he were just babbling, crying in a mixed jumble of languages, but as Hiei listened, words became clear. “No, no, no ... not him, please, not him ...” Kurama gasped, still caught in his private, dream-spawned hell. “Inari’s tears, he’s innocent! Don’t hurt him! Please ...” he begged. Hiei crawled onto the bed, straddled Kurama’s hips, used his own weight to pin the thrashing body to the bed, taking the sweaty, cold hands into his own. He felt helpless, and despised that feeling, bending close to Kurama’s face, touching their foreheads together. “Kurama,” he said softly, wincing slightly when the youko shrieked again, a violent movement almost throwing him off. Then, as if his voice and that single word triggered some mental key, the body under his twitched, then relaxed, a final pained sound leaving tightly pressed lips as Kurama went bonelessly limp under him. After a few seconds, the lids lifted to reveal shadowed emerald eyes that sparkled dangerously with the threat of tears, terrified and lonely. “Hiei?” he whispered, voice cracked and tired. Hiei didn’t reply, pulling back to stroke Kurama’s face, whisking away the tears that still escaped. His face was dark, a scowl pulling his mouth, belying the tenderness of his motions as the moisture was dried from the youko’s cheeks. He slid off of Kurama’s body, then leaned forward, pressing his lips gently onto Kurama’s forehead, hugging his lover’s head to his chest. Almost unconsciously, Kurama reached up, his hands grasping Hiei’s shirt as he whimpered like a frightened child, clinging and in need of comfort. Small hands stroked his hair gently, smoothing it from his forehead, down his back, his lover’s low voice whispering past his ear. “Another nightmare, ne?” Hiei whispered, pressing his cheek to his lover’s hair. Kurama nodded, a swift, jerky motion, and he fought the urge to swear. Unsure of what to say, he continued to hold Kurama loosely, twisting his right hand in his lover’s long, thick hair. Kurama closed his eyes tightly, hands white-knuckled as they gripped the cloth of Hiei’s shirt. He shuddered, feeling cold, but unwilling to release his little fire youkai to grope for the blanket. He opted to snuggle closer, instead, feeling his lover’s naturally high body temperature soak into him, a welcome heat that almost banished the visions that haunted his sleep, followed him into waking. He could only wish he remembered less clearly. It had been in the treasure house where Kuronue had died. His arms had been tied roughly behind him, and two huge, burly youkai stood to either side of him, holding him roughly in place. A priest, dressed in fiery scarlet robes, gesturing grandly, while guards stepped forward, carrying Hiei. His lover had been bound and gagged, unable to snarl his own defenses, and as he was brought forward, the priest’s body burst into flames, revealing the hulking form of the Tamashii-Satsujinhan’nin. There had been a cruel, painfully aware gleam in those narrow violet eyes, an awareness that the original had never known, and it stalked forward, deadly claws raised high. Hiei had struggled, yes, he had struggled, even as the guards stripped away his tattered black shirt, leaving bare flesh open and vulnerable. Kurama had pleaded for his lover’s life and safety, but his words were met with mocking laughter as the Creature looked at him, then snarled in contempt before returning to the bound prize. Firelight had shone off electric green claws came flashing downwards and Hiei’s screams mingled with Kurama’s as he struggled against his captors, to no avail. He could only watch as the red streaks appeared in his lover’s stomach, and the Creature’s mocking voice rose in a shrieking laugh, even as it bent forward to lap at the blood, to absorb Hiei’s soul into himself. And Kurama stood by and watched, unable to move, his mind painfully clear as he screamed. He hadn’t been aware that he was crying again until he felt Hiei pull away. He started to whimper a protest, when his lover’s hands grasped his shoulders lightly, turning him so that he could tilt his face upwards more easily, look directly into Hiei’s solemn little face. Soft lips brushed over his eyelids, against his cheeks, all gentle and loving. He shuddered, stilled, took a deep, hiccuping breath, and relaxed again. The door opened, quietly, and he could feel the uniquely familiar presence of his brother’s ki, but didn’t bother to open his eyes as he resettled his cheek against his lover’s chest, his ear against the strong, steady heartbeat. It was a similar scene to the one that had awoken him that morning, he realized, as he felt the futon shift and give way as Yo-mawari sat down beside them, and felt the soft touch of his brother’s hand on his leg. “I was talking with Kuraihana-san, earlier,” he heard his twin say quietly, and turned his head slightly so that he could hear better. “She suggested something that might help kyoudai-kun’s nightmares. But it has to be completely consensual. Ne, kyoudai? Are you awake?” He turned his head, opened one eye, looked blearily at his brother. “What did she say?” he asked softly, his voice a hoarse whisper that cracked on the third word. He winced at the sound, turning his face back into Hiei’s chest and loosening his grip slightly on the smaller youkai’s shirt. “It’s called a dreamwalk,” Yo-mawari explained quietly. “We enter your dreams and help discover the cause of them, so that we can take it into the waking world and help figure out what to do from there. If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to absolve the dreams while still within your mind. “There are dangers, though. Kurama - if you awaken while we’re still inside your mind, we’ll be trapped there, possibly forever. And if we make one wrong move, you’ll never be able to wake up. Those are the two major risks - the others are exhaustion and extreme clarity of your memories of such an event - as well as major secrets being revealed - but I don't think they’re as serious. Do you still want to try?” Hiei answered for the both of them, meeting Yo-mawari’s eyes evenly as he stroked his lover’s soft red hair. “I’ll do it,” he said quietly. “If it helps, I’ll do it.” Kurama made a small sound of protest, one that was hushed by Hiei’s hand pressing down on the top of his head. Yo-mawari nodded. “Good. We’ll call Yuusuke-kun and Kuwabara-kun tomorrow.” For the first time, Kurama turned to his brother, a frown darkening his face. “We’re getting the others to help us?” he asked softly. “That’s not fair to the girls, you know - they just got their lovers back. Keiko-chan and Yukina-chan would never forgive us if anything happens to Yuusuke or Kuwabara-kun. Neither will Atsuko-san or Shizuru-san. And it’s not fair, asking you - any of you - to do this for me. It’s my problem, I need to face it on my own.” Yo-mawari smiled gently, reaching out to touch his brother’s cheek. “This is something that you don’t need to ask for, kyoudai-kun,” he said softly. “And I don’t think you have much of a choice. Consensual as it might have to be, we wouldn’t leave you alone until you agreed. Let us do this for you. Please.” His voice and eyes were pleading as he looked at his brother, worry darkening their normal black color to something else, almost alien in shade and hue. Silence. Then, finally, Kurama nodded his head in a swift, jerky motion. “Hai. All right,” he said quietly, his voice old and tired as he turned and buried his face in Hiei’s chest again. “All right. Have it your way. We’ll do it.”