Echoes XV



Arashi




Kurama smiled, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. The ocean breeze 
caught at his long hair, toying with it playfully, before directing its fickle 
attentions elsewhere. Yo-mawari blinked and sneezed as the wind sent his own 
hair to frame his face, tickling his nose. With an annoyed growl, the 
dark-haired twin shoved the thin, trailing locks from his face, holding it 
securely away with one hand. He gave Kurama a wry, sideways glance, smiling at 
his twin’s serenity. “Tell me again why I keep my hair this long?” he asked 
plaintively. “It gets in the way, it’s hard to maintain, and on windy days like 
this,” he gestured with his free hand, “the tangles are downright deadly.”
The redhead laughed softly, opening his eyes and leaning forward against the 
railing, watching the crashing waves with an amused gaze. “It’s because you’re 
vain,” he replied in a mild voice. “If you weren’t, you’d actually go through on 
those threats you keep making, and chop all your hair off.” He turned to look at 
his brother, resting his fist against his cheek, propping his head up. “And not 
only that, but Chibi-Hana likes your hair long, and you don’t want to make her 
mad at you.” He smirked as his brother sputtered, then turned back to watch the 
ocean.
Yo-mawari bit the inside of his cheek, glaring at the side of his twin’s head, 
then looked heavenward. “Why me?” he muttered to the air, before he also turned 
towards the water, releasing his hair so that he could brace himself against the 
railing. Once freed from its confines, black hair whipped out again, framing his 
face and tangling with Kurama’s red mane.
The ocean was a pale blue-gray, just a few shades lighter than the cloudy sky, 
crashing against the empty sandy beach with a barely-checked violence. The waves 
rose nearly as high as a man, the rounded cap edged in white, and in the sky, 
white lightening danced among the dark gray clouds, like pale, skeletal fingers. 
Kurama had a small secret smile on his face as he watched the water, his eyes 
hazy and lost in their own thoughts. Yo-mawari stared at the sandy ground below 
them, and the scraggly, tough grasses that were whipped around in the wild wind, 
like their hair and clothing.
They had come here to get away from the confusion and bustle of Tokyo - one of 
Kurama’s human uncles had offered them the use of a beach house, and their whole 
little “family” had come to relax. It was the first time either Yo-mawari or 
little Kiroshu had seen a beach - one was too young to have ever visited one 
before, and the other had never had a reason to visit such a place.
Kurama closed his eyes, a contented smile playing on his lips. The bruises and 
other scars that laced his body - “souvenirs” from the fight against Karasu, 
where he had released the Shokyuu Shokubutsu on the other youkai - were fading, 
slowly; now they were scarcely more than a faint discoloring on his skin, barely 
visible.
And - snugly fitted onto the ring finger of his right hand - was the dragon ring 
that Hiei had given to him. It wasn’t hard for him to picture it in his mind’s 
eye; it was uncanny, how much it suited the manifestation of his lover’s 
ultimate attack - the black ebony dragon, with its fiery ruby eyes, bore such a 
startling resemblance to the Kokuryuuha, that it was almost eerie. Like the rose 
that he had given to Hiei, the dragon ring was a symbol; a promise that there 
would always be part of one with the other ...
He heard the door open behind him, and turned, watching with half-lidded eyes as 
a small figure toddled out, blinking widely as the wild wind brought involuntary 
tears to his eyes. For a moment, the child paused, dashing his arm over his 
eyes, before he scrambled to his youko father’s side, then tugged insistently on 
Kurama’s jeans, holding up his arms in a silent plea.
The redhead laughed, then bent to sweep the child into his arms, settling him 
comfortably against his chest, and resting his head on the silver little head. 
“I thought you were supposed to be taking a nap, Kiro-chan,” he chided gently, 
running a hand lightly down his adopted son’s back.
At his side, Yo-mawari gave a small snort of laughter. Kiroshu had his head 
turned in his uncle’s direction, and was blinking innocently at his father’s 
dark-haired twin. “Couldn’t sleep,” he mumbled, wrapping his little arms around 
Kurama’s neck. “Hiei-’tousan said to come outside and bug you for a while.” One 
small hand caught at a wildly waving lock of Kurama’s hair and twisted it around 
his fist as he pulled back to look at his father seriously. “Am I bothering 
you?”
Kurama laughed again, nuzzling the kit’s soft hair and rocking him slightly. 
“Oh, no, little one,” he assured him, looking up at the dark gray sky. “You’re 
not bothering us.” Yo-mawari nodded as well, pulling a face at the kit, and 
making the little one giggle quietly.
“Then I’m doing something wrong,” Kiroshu said seriously, releasing Kurama’s 
hair and looking up at him. “Hiei-’tousan said I’m s’posed to bother you now. 
Said you’d be able to get me to sleep.” He paused, then shrugged slightly. “But 
I don’t wanna take a nap.”
“Of course not,” Kurama soothed, rubbing his son's back. “You can stay out here 
with us.”
“O ... kay ...” Kiroshu yawned hugely, then snuggled in his father’s arms, 
resting his cheek against Kurama’s chest and gripping his shirt with his little 
hands. “Arigatou ...”
Yo-mawari raised an eyebrow at his brother. “Is he asleep?”
“No ... ’m not ... don’t wanna take a nap ...” Kiroshu mumbled, rubbing his face 
against his father’s chest. “Kur’ma-papa ... said ... didn’t hafta ...”
Kurama winked at his brother. “Give him a few minutes,” he whispered softly, 
glancing down at the drowsy child in his arms with a loving smile. “He’s still 
rather feisty.”
After a few minutes, the kit gave a little, content sigh, his little fists 
relaxing their grip on Kurama’s shirt as he stirred, shifting closer towards 
Kurama’s body, seeking to get away from the chill of the wind. The redhead 
smiled gently, then gently disentangled the sleeping kit from his arms, and 
handed him to Yo-mawari. “Get him in bed for me, will you? I think I’ll stay 
outside a little longer ...”
His twin made a face at him. “Suit yourself. But I’m not helping you get those 
tangles out.” He accepted the little burden of Kiroshu’s weight and situated him 
carefully against his body before heading inside.
The redhead laughed, softly, before closing his eyes and tilting his face 
heavenwards. The howling winds lashed across his face and through his hair and 
clothing, and he felt a few icy droplets of rain strike his cheeks, sliding down 
his flesh like tears.
But he had nothing to grieve about, at the moment. Oh, there were a thousand 
things that could stand to be worried on; thought and angsted over, but they 
weren’t important, at the moment. At the moment, there were too many things to 
be happy about.
No missions from Koenma for a while, now; it had been nearly two weeks since 
Kuwabara’s wedding, and aside from a few minor problems - youkai bandits, petty 
thieves, all small things that Koenma could handle without calling the Urameshi 
Team into action - things had been peaceful in all the three worlds. That 
pleased Kurama - he was still recovering from all the things that had happened, 
recently, and the chance to relax for a while was a pleasant one.
The storm was beginning to abate, a little; he could feel the weakening in the 
winds that lashed water droplets at his face. He looked down and shook his head 
slightly, feeling that same contented smile tugging at his lips. It was so nice 
to rest, and allow the world to pass without his constant surveillance.
“Kurama.”
Hiei’s voice was low, cutting through the wind’s shrill like a dark knife. 
Kurama only nodded his head, briefly, in acknowledgment of the other youkai’s 
presence. Even though Hiei’s boots made very little sound as he walked, the 
youko could hear the soft tattoo very clearly - embedded in his brain, eerily 
similar to the steady thrum of his lover’s heartbeat.
A small hand touched his elbow, and he started, turning slowly to meet Hiei’s 
dark red gaze. He could read the faint concern there, mixed with a dry sort of 
amusement that seemed to fuel his own serene happiness. “Is something funny?” he 
asked quietly, knowing that his lover would hear him, even over the storm’s 
wailing.
Hiei grunted, his usual “hn” ringing almost like a laugh. “The brat’s finally 
asleep,” he said softly, tilting his head to one side, ever so slightly. “And 
’Wari’s sitting on the couch, trying to brush his hair out and swearing a blue 
streak. He’d better be glad Kiro-chan’s not awake to hear him, though ...” there 
was a mock-threat in the little youkai’s eyes, and Kurama knew better than to 
take offense at it. His lover still had problems with visibly showing his 
affection for others; the threats and insults he shot towards his friends were 
different than the ones he gave his enemies - less heated, almost playful. 
Kurama’s smile widened.
“I don’t really blame him, you know,” the redhead said mildly, looking back at 
the tossing waves. “I’m probably going to have the same problems, later.”
The other youkai snorted again; the “dumb fox” grunt that Kurama found so 
adorable. “So why’d you come out here, in the first place, if you’re worried 
about your hair?” he grumbled, reaching out and catching one of the wildly 
waving red locks in a small hand, and twining it around his fingers.
The question earned him a slight shrug of Kurama’s shoulders; the green eyes 
were misty and faded as they gazed outwards. “I like storms,” he said quietly. 
“They’re powerful, and they’re violent, but I’ve never felt threatened by them.” 
Abruptly, he turned to Hiei, a wry smile quirking one corner of his mouth 
upwards. “At the risking of sounding terribly cliché, I guess they were a 
foretelling of the kind of soul I’d fall in love with.”
He turned completely, reaching out with long arms to snag Hiei’s shoulders and 
draw him close. Hiei allowed the motion, turning his head so that his hear 
rested against Kurama’s heartbeat - an unwavering, comforting rhythm that 
spelled out life; not the cold stillness that he had felt in his own heart and 
mind, not long ago.
He felt Kurama shake him lightly. “Stop that,” the youko scolded, though he 
sounded more amused than irritated. “This is no time for a guilt trip.”
Hiei was tempted to snarl back an insult, but, in an uncharacteristic burst of 
dependency, chose to snuggle closer, even bringing up his hands to rest lightly 
on Kurama’s sides. He could feel one of his lover’s arms slide around his waist, 
both protective and possessive, as the other rubbed the back of his neck 
lightly. This was nice; though the warrior part of him balked at such a domestic 
and clinging position, he had to admit ... it was rather nice.
Kurama’s cheek was pressed against his hair, and he could feel the youko’s chest 
vibrate under his cheek when the other spoke. “The storm’s dying.”
“Hn.” He slipped one arm around Kurama’s waist, hesitantly, relaxing only when 
Kurama leaned against him, a slight increase of weight on his heels, and sighed 
deeply.
“I love you, Hiei,” he heard the fox whisper into his hair. He said nothing, but 
only pressed closer. He couldn’t say the words as easily as Kurama could - for 
him, it took nearly an hour of mental pep-talk before he could even think of 
saying those words to his lover without feeling panicked - but he could 
acknowledge the words, and express his feelings as best he could.
He didn’t need to explain, though. Kurama understood him - as he always had, and 
always would.
The two of them stood together, arms wrapped around each other, and watched as 
the storm slowly came to its dramatic end, the winds dying and the rain slacking 
off until stillness surrounded them.
Then, as the sun broke from the crowds, they disentangled themselves from each 
other and went inside, Kurama’s hand on Hiei’s shoulder, and the smaller youkai 
brushing against his kitsune lover with every small movement.
Everything was all right again.
For now.



~ Owari ~