Someday I will rule the world.

battosai_h @ 2008-07-23T16:51:00

2008-07-23T23:54:19Z

ONE… TWO… THREE…

THE GUNS SHOT RANG CLEARLY THROUGH THE NIGHTS AIR, A SHARP CRACKING NOISE AGAINST THIS UNUSUALLY QUIET COLD NIGHT. THE STARS WERE DULLED BY A LOW MIST THAT HOVERED OVER THE LAND SOFTLY AND THE MOON WAS HALF FULL, SEEMING TO GLOW SADLY FOR WHAT WAS TO COME, THOUGH, IF QUESTIONED, AN AVERAGE PERSON WOULD SAY IT WAS BECAUSE PHANTOM THIEF DARK HAD ESCAPED ONCE AGAIN.

NO ONE WAS SUPPOSED TO SEE.

NO ONE…

IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE PERFECT CRIME. NO WITNESSES, NO EVIDENCE, NOTHING TO TIE HIM TO THE CRIME. THE KILLER ALREADY HAD AN ALIAS FOR THE NIGHT. HE WOULD HAVE WITNESSES SAYING HE HAD BEEN AT A BAR OVER FIVE MILES AWAY FOR THE MAJORITY OF THE NIGHT, ALL THE WAY TO TWO O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING REALLY.

IT WAS TO BE PERFECT, LIKE ALL BEFORE.

HE HADN’T COUNTED ON THE KID. HE REALLY HAD NOT COUNTED ON THE KID.

THIS WASN’T A NIGHT A KID SHOULD HAVE BEEN OUT AND ABOUT, MUCH LESS ONE RED HAIRED AND EYED KID OF ONLY FOURTEEN, STALKING HOME SOAKED TROUGH AND THROUGH, WITH HIS LEATHER OUTFIT SLOSHING WITH WATER. THE BOY WAS STARING, FROZEN ON SPOT, ONLY HIS SURPRISED GASP AND THE DROPPING OF THE STOLEN ARTWORK, A NECKLACE IN THIS CASE, GAVE HIM AWAY TO THE KILLER.

THE KILLER TURNED, HIS LAVENDER EVES COMING TO LOCK ON THE FROZEN KID, HIS EYES CAME ACROSS A PECULIAR SIGHT. REALLY, WASN’T IT WAS UNUSUAL TO SEE A KID WANDERING AROUND LOOKING LIKE HE HAD JUST BEEN DROPPED IN A SWIMMING POOL WHILE WEARING A LEATHER OUTFIT MUCH TOO BIG AND PROVOCATIVE TO SUIT HIM?

IF ONLY EMIKO HADN’T CHOSEN THIS NIGHT TO SEND HIM OUT, THE TEEN WOULD LATER THINK, AS KOSUKE DYED HIS NEWLY CUT HAIR BLACK, HIS EMERALD GREEN CONTACTS SITTING AT HIS SIDE ON THE COUNTER TOP, WAITING TO BE PUT IN.

IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE PERFECT! PERFECT!

IF NOT FOR THE WITNESS…

THE ANSWER WAS SIMPLE…

DESTROY THE PROBLEM…

ANNIHILATE.

THE LAVENDER EYES GLITTERED WITH WELL CONCEALED LUNACY AS HE LEVELED THE GUN.

HE WOULD JUST HAVE TO KILL ONE MORE THING WOULDN’T HE? ONE MORE TO FIFTY PLUS WASN’T THAT MUCH WAS IT?

HE ALWAYS GOT THE JOB DONE—EVEN IF IT WAS JUST KILLING A WITNESS—IN THE END.

IT WAS GREAT TO BE AN AS OF SO FAR UNTRACEABLE CRIME OVERLORD WASN’T IT?

TOO BAD THE BOY HAD SEEN… HE WAS JUST A KID.

A CUTE ONE TOO…

THE GUNSHOT RANG CRYSTAL CLEAR IN THE SECLUDED NIGHTS HEAVENS.

--X.X—WITNESS—X.X--

CHAPTER ONE

THE BANG SEEMED TO ECHO FOR DAISUKE AND AT THAT MOMENT ALL HE WAS AWARE OF WAS THE PAIN, THE SHARP LANCING PAIN AS THE BULLET TORE THROUGH HIS SIDE. IT WAS ALMOST MIND NUMBING AS HE CRIED OUT IN DISTRESS, UNMINDFUL OF DARK’S FRENZIED SCREAMING IN HIS PSYCHE.

THE NEXT THING HE HAD THE MIND TO NOTICE WAS DARKNESS, AS THE BLOW KNOCKED HIM OFF HIS FEET, AND THE SHORT FLASH OF PAIN AS HIS HEAD CAME IN SHARP CONTACT WITH THE EDGE OF THE DUMPSTER AT HIS LEFT.

BLOOD WAS SOAKING HIS HAIR, MAKING IT APPEAR DARKER THAN IT REALLY WAS. THE GUN WOUND POOLED IN A SICKLY PUDDLE AT DAISUKE’S SIDE, SPREADING ALL TOO FAST FOR HIS HEALTH. RUBY EYES FLUTTERED SHUT NOT A MOMENT LATER.

HIS FORM WAS UNEARTHLY; HE LOOKED ALMOST AS IF HE WERE AND SERAPH WHO HAD FALLEN FROM THE HEAVENS.

ONLY THE SOUND OF THE LAVENDER EYED, BLOND HAIRED MAN’S FOOTSTEPS ECHOED DOWN THE ALLY WAY, AS HE CALMLY WALKED AWAY FROM THE SCENE OF HIS CRIME, NOT EVEN A SINGLE GLANCE WAS SPARED FOR THE TWO CRUMPLED FORMS HE LEFT BEHIND. ONE WAS CLEARLY DEAD AND THE OTHER NEAR.

--X.X.-.X.X--

“SATOSHI-SAMA?” KRAD INQUIRED OF HIS TAMER AS HE STOOD ON THE STEEPLY VAULTED ROOF HIGH OVER AZUMANO. HE WAS LOOKING FOR THE PHANTOM THIEF, HAVING ONLY LOST HIS TRAIL ABOUT FIVE MINUTES PRIOR. “WHAT WAS THAT SOUND?” KRAD HEARD A SECOND FAINT “BANG” NOISE, SEEMINGLY CLOSE BY.

THERE WAS A SHORT STRETCH OF SILENCE BEFORE SATOSHI CHOSE TO ANSWER, “I THINK THAT WAS A GUN SHOT.” HIS VOICE WAS SUBDUED AND TIRED, THE AFTER EFFECTS OF CHASING DARK UP AND DOWN AND ALL AROUND THE MUSEUM FOR OVER AN HOUR BEFORE THE THIEF IN QUESTION LEFT THE PREMISES.

A SLIGHTLY GIDDY NOTE STRUCK KRAD’S VOICE, “SATOSHI-SAMA, MIGHT IT HAVE BEEN DARK?” HE LEANED FORWARD IGNORING THE WIND THAT WAS TEARING AT HIS CLOTHES AND FLARING HIS HAIR OUT LIKE A STREAMER BEHIND HIM. ALL WAS GREAT IN THE WORLD IF IT WERE DARK! HE HAD TO GO SEE.

HAD ANYONE BEEN WATCHING THEY WOULD HAVE THOUGHT HIS NEXT ACTION SUICIDAL, COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY SUICIDAL, IT’S NOT LIKE ANYONE GENERALLY MANAGED TO SURVIVE AFTER THROWING THEMSELVES OFF A VAULTED TOWER FIFTY FEET UP. MOST WHO DARED TRY WERE CERTAINLY NOT EXPECTING TO SEE THE BREAK OF THE NEXT DAY’S DAWN.

TOO BAD THEY DIDN’T HAVE WINGS.

KRAD FLARED HIS FEATHERED APPENDAGES OUT WIDE BEHIND AND CAUGHT AN UPDRAFT, THE WIND PLEASANTLY RUFFLING HIS SNOWY WHITE SLEEK FEATHERS. WHAT A WONDERFUL FEELING TO EXPERIENCE. A TWISTED SMILE TWISTED HIS FEATURES.

THE FEATHERS DIDN’T SUIT HIS PERSONALITY AT ALL. SCALES AND LEATHERY SKIN WOULD SET WELL WITH HIS INSANE PERSONAS.

SATOSHI HADN’T ANSWERED KRAD AS THEY FLEW IN THE BITING NIGHT. AS MUCH AS HE WOULD LIKE TO BE RID OF DARK FOREVER, HAVING DARK SHOT TO DEATH JUST WOULDN’T DO IT, IT WOULD ONLY BE AN ENDS FOR SWEET LITTLE DAISUKE NIWA. HE DIDN’T THINK HE COULD HANDLE SUCH A THING.

“SATOSHI-SAMA?” KRAD BROKE THE HEAVY SILENCE, “I THINK THE TAMER IS DEAD… AND SOMEONE ELSE TOO.” HIS SMIRK COULD BE HEARD IN HIS VOICE AS HE WAS HARSHLY PUSHED TO THE BACK AND SATOSHI TOOK CONTROL ONCE AGAIN.

“DAISUKE!” THE BLUE-EYED TAMER’S VOICE WAS HOARSE, AN EFFECT THAT HAD MOST LIKELY ORIGINATED BY THE SCREAMING AS HE CHANGED INTO THE HOMICIDAL ANGEL. PANIC STRUCK DEEP IN HIS HEART AS HIS KNEES JARRINGLY MADE CONTACT WITH THE COLD SMOOTH COBBLESTONE, AND HIS HANDS SEARCHED DESPERATELY FOR A PULSE, BECOMING SLICK WITH BLOOD IN THE PROCESS.

HE FELT LIKE A GREAT WEIGHT HAD BEEN LIFTED OFF HIS CHEST AS HE WENT THROUGH THE MOTIONS, MECHANICALLY CHECKING FOR THE RISE AND FALL OF HIS CHEST AND THE SOFT FEELING OF BREATH ON HIS EAR. THE ANXIETY DIDN’T LEAVE THOUGH. THE PULSE WAS WEAK, FLUTTERY.

SATOSHI’S CELL PHONE WAS IN A SORRY STATE WHEN HE WAS DONE FUMBLING WITH IT, THE EMERGENCY NUMBER TYPED IN WITH UNUSUALLY AWKWARD FINGERS. HE HAD A QUICK PASSING THOUGHT THAT WAS REALLY OF NO RELEVANCE IN REFERENCE TO IT. THERE WAS SURE TO BE BLOOD STUCK BETWEEN THE KEYS IN THE MORNING.

IT WAS A NAUSEATING FIVE MINUTES LATER WHEN THE AMBULANCE CAME, TWO POLICE CARS CHASING AFTER IT. ONE OF THE VEHICLES, FORTUNATELY FOR SATOSHI, WAS DRIVEN BY INSPECTOR SAHARA. OVER THE COURSE OF TIME, SATOSHI HAD HAD A STRIKE OF COMMON SENSE. IN THE STATE THE BOY WAS IN, HIS MIND WAS MUDDLED, HE WASN’T THINKING CLEARLY IN THE LEAST. HE DEFTLY POCKETED THE NECKLACE THAT THE YOUNGER BOY HAD STOLEN. HE HAD ALSO CHECKED TO MAKE SURE THAT THE OTHER ONE WAS IN FACT, REALLY AS DEAD AS HE THOUGHT HE WAS ON FIRST SIGHT, NOT JUST WOUNDED, AS DAISUKE HAD BEEN.

HE COULDN’T HELP BUT BE THANKFUL THAT KRAD HAD OPTED TO LEAVE HIM ALONE FOR ONCE.

SATOSHI SAT, LEANING AGAINST THE LARGE DUMPSTER, WATCHING THE PARAMEDICS LOADING. THE FLASHING RED AND WHITE LIGHTS REFLECTED OFF HIS COBALT BLUE EYES. HE’D LOST HIS GLASSES SOMEWHERE ALONG THE WAY. AN INDESCRIBABLE EXPRESSION WAS ON HIS FACE.

HE WAS FEELING WORRIED. THERE WAS NO DOUBT AGAINST IT. HE WAS WORRIED SICK. HOW HAD THIS HAPPENED TO DAISUKE? SURE, HE KNEW HOW IT WAS LOGICALLY POSSIBLE, BUT HE WAS HAVING A HARD TIME PROCESSING THAT IT WAS DAISUKE WHO WAS STRAPPED INTO THE STRETCHER.

--X.X.-.X.X--

SATOSHI SAT ON THE COLD CONCRETE. THE WAILING OF THE AMBULANCE GRADUALLY FADING AWAY. HE STARED AT HIS GLASSES AND THEY STARED BACK IMPASSIONATELY, TWO CHIPS OF CLEAR GLASS IN A BENT METAL FRAME.

HE WOULD NEED SOME TIME TO PROCESS THIS.

HE HAD NEVER EXPECTED... NEVER QUITE EXPECTED TO EVER SEE DAISUKE SENT OFF THIS WAY. HE HADN'T EVEN BEEN CLOSE ENOUGH TO KNOW HOW DAISUKE HAD GOTTEN HURT! IT GRATED ON HIS NERVES, UNCOMFORTABLY. EVERY OTHER TIME DAISUKE HAD BEEN IN DANGER, HE HAD HAD A CHANGE TO HELP. EVEN IF HE HAD SPEND PART OF IT STARING THROUGH KRAD'S GOLDEN EYES.

HE LOOKED AT HIS GLASSES AND THEY STARED BACK.

DAISUKE WOULD BE FINE. HE HAD TO BE. HE HAD SURVIVED MUCH WORSE, SATOSHI PLACATED HIMSELF, ONLY SOMEWHAT SUCCESSFULLY. DAISUKE HAD BEEN BREATHING WHILE HE HAD BEEN LOADED UP BY THE PARAMEDICS, WHICH PUT MATTERS IN HIS FAVOR, RIGHT?

--X.X.-.X.X--

RISA HARADA HADN'T REALLY BEEN LISTENING TO THE NEWS THAT MORNING, IN FACT SHE HAD ONLY TURNED IT ON IN HOPE OF SEEING ANY DOCUMENTATION ON LAST NIGHTS HEIST. PHANTOM THIEF DARK ALMOST ALWAYS MADE THE MORNING HEADLINES, TO RECOUNT THE HEIST FROM THE OFFICER'S POINT OF VIEW, SO WHEN 'IN BREAKING NEWS' CHIRPED FROM THE TV RISA WAS SURPRISED TO HEAR IT RECOUNT A SHOOTING THAT HAD HAPPENED THE NIGHT BEFORE.

'IN BREAKING NEWS, AN AZUMANO TEEN WAS INVOLVED IN A SHOOTING LAST NIGHT, ABOUND 9:30 PM. WE, HERE AT K4 NEWS HAVE BEEN FOLLOWING THE STORY. THE TEEN IS STILL IN THE INTENSIVE CARE UNIT AND...'

SHE WAS SURPRISED, BUT NOT OVERLY CONCERNED. AFTER ALL, IT DIDN'T AFFECT HER, NOW DID IT? WHAT WERE THE CHANCES OF THE BOY HAVING BEEN SOMEONE SHE KNEW?

RISA WOULD LATER FIND HERSELF REGRETTING THAT ATTITUDE.

--X.X.-.X.X--

TEARS WERE WELLING UP IN HER EYES AND SHE SCREAMED OUT A SOB, HER SISTER RIGHT BESIDE HER, DOING HER BEST TO MUFFLE HER TEARS.

SATOSHI WAS THE ONLY ONE WITH OUT A HINT OF A TEAR. NO, IT WAS MUCH WORSE. HE LOOKED ABSOLUTELY CRUSHED, HIS HEAD HANGING LOW AND SHALLOW BREATHS COMING SLOWLY. DEAD. DEAD, DEAD, DEAD, DEAD, DEAD. HE FISHED HIS HANDS IN HIS HAIR AND DROPPED DOWN TO THE STARK FLOOR, FORGOING THE CHAIR TO HIS LEFT. DEAD, DEAD, DEAD, DEAD, DEAD. DAISUKE WAS DEAD.

DEAD. THIS COULDN'T BE RIGHT. IT JUST COULDN'T.

CUT SCENE:

DAISUKE GROANED, ALMOST INAUDIBLY AND TUNED HIS HEAD TO THE LEFT. HIS EYES CRACKED OPEN AND THINGS SLOWLY CAME INTO FOCUS FOR THE TAMER.

EVERYTHING WAS WHITE, WHITE, WHITE! WITH, MAYBE, A BIT OF BLUE THROWN IN, HE AMENDED, SQUINTING AT THE PLASTIC CHAIR AT HIS SIDE.

HE COULDN’T HELP IT. HE WAS CONFUSED. HADN’T HE BEEN OUTSIDE? HIS ALMOST BLANK GAZE STARTED TO ROAM THE ROOM. HE WAS FAR TO EXHAUSTED TO MAKE MUCH OF A FUSS AT THE MOMENT.

TO HIS LEFT HE SEEMED TO FIND DARK BLUE PLASTIC CHAIRS PUSHED TO THE SIDES AND OUT OF THE WAY. TWO OTHER UNOCCUPIED BEDS HAD PRIVACY CURTAINS STANDING WIDE OPEN YET STILL POSITIONED TO OBSTRUCT VIEW OF THE DOOR, IF THE DOOR WAS REALLY ON THAT SIDE OF THE ROOM IN THE FIRST PLACE. HIS EYEBROWS FURROWED AT THE SIGHT OF MACHINES, LIKE THOSE YOU WOULD SEE AT A HOSPITAL TO MONITOR HEART BEATS AND THE LIKE.

WAIT A MINUTE… DAISUKE’S BRAIN FINALLY SEEMED TO CATCH UP.

HOSPITAL… HE WAS IN A HOSPITAL!

DAISUKE’S HEAD THRASHED TO THE OTHER SIDE AND HIS ATTENTION CAME TO REST ON THE MACHINE AT THE HEAD OF HIS BED. A STEADY ‘BEEP-BEEP-BEEP’ CAME REASSURINGLY FROM THE MACHINE. HE’D GOTTEN SO USED TO ITS SOUND IN HIS MEDICATED SLEEP THAT HE DIDN’T EVEN NOTICE IT WHEN HE WOKE UP!

DAISUKE DEARLY WISHED TO JUST BURY HIS HEAD IN HIS HANDS AND WAIL. THIS COULDN’T BE HAPPENING TO HIM!

AS HIS SENSES SEEMED TO FINALLY COME AROUND, DAISUKE NOTICED THE HEAVY FEELING IN HIS BODY AND THE INSISTENT THROBBING IN HIS SIDE.

“OH MY GOD…” THE RECENT EVENS QUICKLY FLOODED HIS MIND AND HE STARTED FEELING VAGUELY SICK. THE GUN WOULD BANG AND THE BODY WOULD FALL, OVER, AND OVER, AND OVER AGAIN IN HIS MIND.

/ DARK? / DAISUKE ‘PRODDED’ AT THE PRESENCE AT THE BACK OF HIS MIND, FEELING HIS ANXIOUSNESS CALM SLIGHTLY BY THE COMFORTABLE EXISTENCE LIVING THERE.

THEFT, HIKARI NECKLACE

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THAT?!” OOTOGI HISSED SNATCHING A PRETTY LITTLE NECKLACE OUT OF BAKURA’S HAND. IT WAS MORE OF A THREATENED RATHER THAN THREATENING HISS, BUT IT GOT HIS ANXIETY ACROSS CLEAR ENOUGH.

THE FRAIL LOOKING NECKLACE TINKED LIKE A BELL AS IT JANGLED IN THE TIGHT HOLD. “WELL?!”

BAKURA BLINKED, LOOKING TAKEN ABACK. “WHY SHOULD YOU CARE? IT’S NOT LIKE IT’S YOURS!”

“NOT MINE? NOT MINE?!” OOTOGI LOOKED OUTRAGED, “THIS NECKLACE HAS BEEN IN MY FAMILY FOR FOUR GENERATIONS! IT IS TOO, MINE!”

“WHY ARE YOU UPSET, ANYWAY?” BAKURA SNEERED, “IT’S A PRETTY LITTLE TRINKET BUT—“

“FOUR GENERATIONS! MY GREAT GRANDFATHER ST—“ HE CUT HIMSELF OFF ABRUPTLY, AND VISIBLY RESTRAINED HIMSELF. “WHEREVER YOU GOT THIS, DON’T VENTRURE AGAIN.” HE STRUNG THE CHAIN THROUGH THE NECKLACE HE WAS WEARING AND CLASPED IT SHUT. “YOU WONT BE IN FOR A PLEASANT SURPRISE.”

OOTOGI THEN SPUN AROUND AND SHOULDERED HIS WAY THROUGH THE CROWD.

THERE WAS A HEAVY SILENCE LEFT IN HIS WAKE.

“THAT WAS… ODD.” YUGI CREPT UP A BIT CLOSER TO YAMI BAKURA’S SHOULDER WHILE STILL KEEPING A SAFE AND RESPECTFUL DISTANCE. “WAS OOTOGI ACTING WEIRD, OR WAS THAT JUST ME?”

TEA LOOKED PRETUBED AND VOICED HER THOUGHTS, “WHY DIDN’T HE PUT THE NECKLACE ON?”

“HUH?” HONDA FROWNED.

“HE PUT THE NECKLACE THROUGH THE LOOP OF HIS OTHER NECKLACE.” SHE LOOKED AT YUGI FOR SUPPORT. “ISN’T THAT STRANGE?”

“YEAH. THERE’S SOMETHING WRONG WITH OOTOGI, ISN’T THERE?”

“NAH. HE’S ALWAYS BEEN LIKE THAT.” JOU SCOWLED HEATEDLY.

TEA LAUGHED, “YOU THINK THAT JUST BECAUSE HE PUT YOU IN A DOG SUIT.”

battosai_h @ 2008-07-23T16:40:00

2008-07-23T23:47:11Z

Title: Fall Through
Genre: Drama, Romance
Category: YuYuHakusho/Harry Potter
Summary: Have you ever wondered how Harry survived the Killing Curse? He didn't.
KuronuexKurama or if you'd rather consider it, HarryxKurama, seeing as Harry IS Kuronue. Shounen ai.

Chapter Six [12-30-07]

It was a comfortable enough looking airplane. The seats were a soft looking grey and black color and it seemed very clean. He thought that they probably took harsh cleaning supplies to it in-between flights, but he couldn’t be sure. He had never manned a plane before.

Kurama had walked up the middle of the aisle way carefully avoiding loose elbows and a few harried passengers while looking for a seat. He had spot his next to a window and he had quickly made his way over and sat in the chair in a calculated movement, removing his carry on from over his shoulder and to a temporary seat between his feet. The seats were more or less comfortable. He hadn’t thought that he would have too many problems dealing with the long flight.

According to the flight scheduling, he would be in for a twenty hour flight. Not a thing he had been looking forward to but had prepared for, nonetheless. He had packed a few books in his bag, all of different types and that textbook he had wanted to look at, and a few other miscellaneous items (his rice crackers for one) too. His other supplies were safely stored in his trunk, which was shrunk and put in one of his suitcases in the belly of the airplane. His trip had been set up through Azumano Airlines; he had heard it was a reputable one, so he wasn’t too worried about the fate of any of his stuff, either.

Kurama had been getting along well with his surroundings while the rest of the passengers lethargically filed in until she had sat down beside him. An uncomfortable feeling settled over his shoulders in a dark shroud. He sifted a bit in place.

This wasn’t a good first try at flying, he was sure. Kurama’s belief that the flight would be almost unbearably long was proven correct. The plane had just gotten into the air and his main curse was that, all, and he meant all, through lift off, the girl who had sat next to him had been whimpering and clinging to his arm like he was her only god to save her from an impending crash. For Inari’s sake! The wheels hadn’t even been drawn up off the cement and he hadn’t said a word to her, either!

He pitied the poor soul who had to have sat next to her on the way in from where ever she came from. It really wasn’t a pleasant experience. She was way too close, and the closeness hadn’t even been on his terms! The only people he allowed that close were this mother, Yusuke (whom he had only allowed after getting used to his personality. He did have a debt to pay back, after all, and he was becoming a very good friend), and Kuronue, before he had died.

Kurama shook his head. He had just realized exactly how many times he had used Inari’s name. It made him thankful that the religion Shintoism belonged to had no ‘Thou shalt not speak His name in vain’ rule.

Kurama sent up a small apology to Inari for all the times he had used his name in vain through out the day before trying the shrug her off. It didn’t work. Pulling with a bit more strength, but not enough to be suspicious, he pulled back and into the back of his seat, putting pressure on the part of her arm that was now stuck between him and his seat. He was fairly certain, by the way her eyes were opening in bewilderment that she was starting to get the point through her mind. “Do you mind?” he growled at her in Japanese, feeling irked at her clinging.

By the look on her face and the tightening of her arms around his upper arm, he gathered that she hadn’t even tried to understand what he was saying. What had she thought he had said? ‘Cling all the closer’? ‘I shall protect you forevermore’? ‘We’re going to crash’?

Had his vulpine ears been on his person, they would have been flat in distaste. Jerking a little more violently and causing a pained groan to seep from his fabric, plastic, and metal seat he dislodged her arms and shot her a daring glare. He didn’t know her and surely didn’t want to.

Physically dismissing her presence with a show body language that loudly proclaimed that she didn’t exist, Kurama nudged his bag pit from under his seat. She sat looking at all the like a kicked puppy, a pitiful hang dog expression on her face. Good thing he didn’t much care for dogs anyway. Round dull blue orbs were shadowed by her bleached hair and Kurama was secure in the fact that he felt no pity.

His bag was just where he had placed it during lift off, and pulled out shuffling around in the bag for a moment to pick out the right item his hands gripped an obviously old book in a newer looking book-sleeve.

Opening it and setting it on his lap tried to focus on the smudged writing. It was another Herbology book, somewhat like the one he had been using during the lessons, but older and full of a more diverse range of magical plants.

He had just been getting into the book when a loud creak sounded from in front of him. With a clicky whoosh the seat in front of him laboriously creaked down.

Not ten minutes later the seats occupant started snoring. It wasn’t just any kind of snoring. No. It was the deafening sound if a train horn. Resigned, he frowned and looked back to his book.

It had taken some time but he had found some reprieve from the ill flight. Sleep. It was as simple as that. His bag cuddled protectively to his chest like a lost lover, he had fallen asleep eleven hours into the flight. He had actually managed to make it through his Herbology textbook and his Defense text, as well as several of his rice crackers and two water bottles. He’d only hit the halfway point in a sci-fi novel Shizuka had recommended.

Waling up to his row-mate’s not-so-gentle prodding and an uncomfortably full bladder, he was haltingly informed that the plane was going to be landing in either fifteen or fifty minutes. He wasn’t entirely certain as she had phrased it as ‘ju go ju’ and there was no such thing as fifteen-ten or ten-fifty.

Peering at his watch he decided that it was probably closer to fifteen minutes until touchdown if the flight was on schedule and he found himself seriously debating on whether or not he wanted to get up to use the bathroom or not.

He found he didn’t have the chance to pursue it any further.

…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…

“Professor…?” He looked at the woman before him, slightly surprised that she was the same height as he. A long dark grey cloak that was barely passable as a coat swept overwhelmingly over her shoulders and down past her calves and a ratty umbrella was tucked under her arm.

“You must be Shuichi Minamino?” Kind but hard and intelligent brown eyes peered out from behind a curly mane of graying hair. 1

“Yes,” he said, trying his best to ignore the mispronunciation of his name. ‘Sue-ichy Min-ah-min-oh’. He wasn’t impressed. Nonetheless, he bowed slightly in greeting, looking at the woman with a slightly befuddled expression, finding himself distracted by her clothing. Did all European witches dress as she did?

“I am Professor Sprout, nice to meet you. Now come along, come along. Grab your things, let’s get you to your room for the night,” she waved at the large unwieldy black suitcase by his left foot and his black carry on.

Nodding at her directions, Kurama bent down and caught the strap of his carry on and hooked his fingers around the handle of suitcase. He was not surprised as she made furtive motions with her hands for him to hurry up. She looked uncomfortable in the muggle crowd and quite out of place.

“What class do you teach, professor?” Kurama gripped the plastic handle firmly and started heading towards the exit.

“Not that way, Mister Minamino…” she directed him, “I’ll answer any questions you have in a jiffy, but I just need…” her face tilted as she searched for something.

“Professor?”

“Ah,” she clapped her hands in triumph, “that will do.” She took off abruptly, leading Kurama to a partially secluded corner behind a potted plant and by the bathrooms.

Kurama eyed the bathroom door longingly but never got a chance to mention it before her hand gripped his arm, pressed the ratty umbrella to his hand and mumbled a soft and unintelligible phrase.

A sharp tug on his navel and the world swirled away. Kurama barely managed to keep his footing when they were deposited in a gusty whoosh of displaced air and magic.

“Now then!” Professor Sprout’s voice was all too cheerful after the sickening lurch from the airport to where ever they were now. Where were they anyway? Kurama didn’t know. There had been no warning.

“Professor?” Kurama’s emerald green eyes darted around efficiently cataloguing his surroundings like only a long term bandit-thief of his caliber and age could. His muscles were tense and he felt suddenly out of his element. Witches and wizards of every shape, size, and make were bustling around paying the Japanese boy and Hogwarts professor no mind.

His mind was already whirring with possibilities for his mission, now that he had and idea for the terrain. This wasn’t a pleasure trip and he wouldn’t try to fool himself into thinking so.

Diagon Alley was cluttered and loud. His eyes resting on the shreds of newspaper and trash lying around, he realized that he had gotten too accustomed to his homes cleanliness. The Makai had been worse than here in some parts, though, particularly in the cities. Despite the clutter, or maybe in spite of it, the ambience of the roadway was very… Nice. The sun was descending in the sky. It wasn’t colorful. The clouds were splattered across the sky and it seemed to him almost something out of a mystery novel, or some sci-fi book.

Kurama had the feeling that he may need to set up some form of surveillance in this area, but he’d have to scout it out later… after she was gone. He predicted a good late night wandering around in his future.

The professor looked immeasurably more comfortable than Kurama, although the alertness from the airport still clung to her.

“Welcome to Diagon Alley!” She seemed proud in her declaration. Kurama couldn’t really see the reason.

Tuning around to face him she continued speaking, “Do you still remember the content of the letter Mi-“ she cut herself off with a shake of her head, “Professor McGonagall Owled you?”

Twisting his lips in a slight frown, Kurama thought back to what seemed like months ago. He had received a welcome letter and he felt it prudent to assume that that letter was the one she was referring to. It had been the only one and it had been fairly rudimentary. It was a simple welcoming with a vague overview of the grading system and class choices. Tagged near the end of the letter had been directions on what to do on his arrival.

They hadn’t been overly clear to begin with.

“Yes, I remember.” He paused a moment, recalling something that confused him in the letter. Was there really such a thing as a Platform nine and three quarters? No station in any nation he knew of had such a thing. He knew—he had looked. He had even gone so far as to ask Takanori, but he hadn’t known either.

She nodded at that. “This is your first time in our community, right Mister Minamino?”

She seemed to tense minutely, though Kurama saw nothing in the teeming crowd of gaily and dourly robed witches and wizards.

Pulling on his best and most unassuming smile, he nodded. Opening his mouth to ask one of his many questions, he found himself closing it prematurely as Professor Sprout clapped her hands together and rambled on while not-so-discretely heading him into an alleyway that ended in a sooty red brick wall.

“Where…?” Kurama managed to ask, beginning to feel frustrated. He knew, logically, that by the way she was behaving that she felt that there was some reason to fear for his safety, but why was she herding him around like some lamb? He didn’t like having decisions taken out of his hands. He would prefer it if she’d just answer his questions and direct him to the ‘Leaky Cauldron’.

“I’m sorry. I’m in a bit of a hurry…” She made a good show of looking contrite. Sprout stopped at the end of the alley way and pulled out her wand. She paused and turned to face him, “This is the back entrance to the Leaky Cauldron.” She patted the wall almost fondly, “We’ve gotten special permission from the owner for you to use this way.”

Kurama looked up the wall seeing plain old and worn—weathered brick towering up about two stories. Over the top of the wall he could see a building.

Perhaps it was because Diagon Alley was an enchanted place… he doubted he would be able to get over the top of the wall if he tried. Shifting his attention back to the present, Kurama watched as the professor started counting under her breath. Two steps and a ‘whish’ of a wand through air later, her golden brown wand— oak if his eyes weren’t deceiving him—rapped in a careful pattern on the bricks with a ‘rat-tat-tat’.

…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…

The bed was comfortable. Probably more comfortable than it was supposed to be, and for that Kurama was grateful. He was talking a momentary reprieve from everything. “The plane ride wasn’t nearly enough…” He mumbled to himself. Feeling heavy, he rolled over and nearly off the bed.

The Leakey Cauldrons’ rooms were very homely, in an old and out dated way. Worn wooden floor boards covered by stately but dusty area rugs with tasseled trims, heavy and solid bed frames, tables, cabinetry, it was nice in a very… European way. He recalled having some furniture made in a similar style in a safe house he has shared with Kuronue, once upon a time.

Kurama rolled a little further and landed with a loud thump on his hands and feet. His head swam at the movement, and then things were right again.

It wasn’t the time, it wasn’t the time. He shook his head and threw the poppy red hair behind his shoulders in a visible show of restlessness. His lungs expanded with a deep breath of air and he blinked several times, clearing the blur.

This was a mission. He had things to do. He couldn’t just laze around and think about Kuronue all day.

Kurama ran his hand through his hair, methodically checking the different types of seeds he had stored among the red strands while slowly making his way to the door. Pausing only to grab his fuchsia blazer, an alternative of his uniform at home, he walked out of the room and down the hallway. His key tucked neatly in his pocket and his wand secured to his arm.

The floorboards creaked underfoot comfortably. Not too loud and in a homely way. His fingertips trailed over the wooden railings as he walked down the stairs leaving a minuscule plant behind to spread out its vines in threadlike tendrils. He would collect its flower on the way back to his room.

It was a useful plant that he had found in a forest in the Makai. He had searched it out after it had been used against him a few years—decades, but what did it really matter?—prior.

…That was one escapade he really didn’t want to remember.

The name for the plant didn’t translate into other languages well, but he supposed the name would be something like the ‘Flower Glass’ in reference to ‘mystical’ looking glasses. The flower reflected the area around its vines in a type of camouflage. Sometimes the effect worked in the plants favor, sometimes not. One of the few Ningenkai flowers he could liken it to was the Angels Trumpet, but it was always wide open and not half as deep and the tips hooked in a pinwheel-like fashion.

It was pretty in an unconventional manner, but he digressed... It did its job and it w as small enough not to be readily noticed by the casual observer.

Slipping through the crowded pub without his usual sense of ease, for he was supposed to be an awkward teenager who didn’t realize he was surrounded by enemies, Kurama headed out the back door.

It was early in the evening and the weather outside reflected it. The pre-Hogwarts bustle had thinned down to a stream that was easier to travel and easier to spot potential threats in. That was not to say that he could see everybody clearly, but it helped. The lack of the earlier crowds was a coupling of relief and worry. It hadn’t even hit six yet. Did the shops in this country close a lot earlier than the ones he was used to at home?

If he couldn’t get all he needed to done tonight, then his plans, as sketchy as they were, would have to be postponed until morning. He found it impossible to muster a doubt that the witches and wizards had magical security systems. Wards maybe? He remembered reading about them.

Stepping up the pace he headed out. His first stop would be the bank. He needed to exchange his Japanese ‘yen’ for those odd ‘Gallons, Sickles, and Knuts’ that the wizards in this country used. Then, after that he wanted to sweep by the pet store, to look, and the apocathary. He thought that he might need to restock, though not my much. His main intention was to put another one of his flowers in place. The ‘art’ of potion-making was one that easily lent itself over to the ‘darker’ side of magic. Untraceable poisons, potions prime for surreptitious deeds… No doubt, places like the Apocrathary would bring in ‘Death Eaters’.

He had spent hundreds of years in the Makai and the cities there closely mirrored Ningenkai cities. It was almost a given that Diagon Ally had such a place.

One place Kurama didn’t need to go was to Olivanders. Japan’s magical population was much smaller than Europe’s and it had only been around for a few hundred years. In fact… most of Japan’s magical population consisted of people with mixed blood. It wasn’t that Europeans were inherently stronger—it was just that most people with high Reiki tended to work in small shrines or didn’t want to give up or postpone their education.

Kurama‘s wand was tailored specifically for him and his Reiki. Or, at least, his version of it. Some days his Youki far exceeded his bodies lingering Reiki. Takanori sensei had informed him that it was a very uncommon practice in the European countries. The smaller population allowed for such extravagances.

Despite his worry that the shops might be closing soon, the building structures caught his attention. Each store front was uniquely tailored to the wares and services they supplied. It seemed like they had been specifically designed for the illiterate, not that that was bad. Each was bright and unmistakable. It was quite elementary, but nice, almost cute. He could easily see himself growing to like this part of Europe, not as distinctive as Rome or Venice but unique.

His feet hit the cracked stone work underfoot and the zephyr played with his hair as his eyes searched for ‘Gringotts’. First stop, first stop… but really, Gallons? The street seemed to open up before long. The buildings getting progressively less eye-catching as a large marble structure appeared in view, overriding them.

Stifling as smirk as his senses started screaming ‘Treasure!’ he passed through the waning crowd and up the steps.

Doors (09-23-07)

2007-10-22T21:42:42Z

People have doors. Some doors are open and some are shut. A persons doors can swing wide open for a few and swing jarringly shut for others. I have doors. For a select few they are wide open and welcoming, for others they are half open, just daring somebody to see if they have what it takes to push it open. For even more others, my doors are half shut, taking effort to pry open lest they close and lock. Some doors only take on the job of screening friends, some screen morals, others ethics and logic.

With the intent of making friends doors open and close through interpretations of behavior, actions, words, and yes, looks.

Memories (07-23-05)

2007-10-22T21:37:17Z

Do you know what I hate about memories? It's the fact that they can come unbidden and unwanted. Just in time to ruin a perfectly good mood. Or… They can come unbidden yet, wanted, when there is no time nor is it the place to remember them before they fade back into the grayness of your mind. Not blackness, no, not blackness, the mind, it seems to me, is like a dim dusk at times, too light to let you say that you have lost a thought to it forever yet too dark for you to easily sort the memory back out. It’s like trying to search for something and not being able to read its label in the darkness. I find thoughts and inspirations the same, they can come unbidden, you may want to remember the idea but you can’t no matter how hard you try. It leaves a nagging feeling that you are forgetting something and you know you are forgetting something, but, for the life of you, you can’t remember it. There always seems to be a time when my mind flows freely with ideas, those precious hours before I fall into my slumber.

Dreams

2007-10-06T23:20:47Z

I had the weirdest dream this morning. I was wandering around for what was over an hour in my dream stark naked. Honestly, I was. It was really weird because I was completely unconcerned about it too... I was helping my grandma with stuff. THEN when I finally got dressed it was only in a pair of really loose white pants, and then someone gave me a thigh length vest to put on, while I was outside lying on top of the tarp on my pool with two of my sisters friends.

Then it got weirder from there. *sigh* I some how got a pinstriped white and black shirt from somewhere or other and got in a bike race with some of my sisters male friends. I won and apparently the two of sissy's male friends were making a bet against some of their friends and I got $50.50 out of it two split three ways. I took the money from one of them because I was afraid that he was going to drop it.

Then even stranger. --'I was wandering around one of their houses and the main person I was racing in the bike race (which was from the top of the hill and into the left cul-de-sak) started sending me sheets of paper with lines from Shakespeare's works written on them. Usually two at a time and I was supposed to put them it order. I never really got to see what it turned into in the end. It never worked. Apparently he set it up wrong.

It was very weird BECAUSE it was so realistic. I would never do such things, but it all Felt really weird...

Sneak Peek. IWNOT

2007-09-22T05:51:53Z

It would not over time: DNAngel fanfic. possible DxD or DxS... Maybe both. ^^'

Chapter 1 – Prologue

The studio was bustling. That was the simplest way to put it. Daisuke was in the lobby of Keiji Saga’s head administrative building. Workmen were milling around, moving furniture and shooing people out.

Daisuke had been called in just thirty minutes prior. Daisuke guessed that it was another of Saga’s business deals. He didn’t care about it much, but he would have rather not been called in at eight in the morning. He was more accustomed to his afternoon shifts. Daisuke hid a yawn behind his hand and somberly waved at the receptionist as he walked by.

Daisuke was pushing twenty-two by now. He had been coerced into becoming a model a few years ago. He’d been too depressed at the time to put up much fuss over getting into something that would distract him from Satoshi’s death.

Satoshi’s death. Just thinking of the even put a crushing pressure on his heart and his eyes died a little. It was a sore spot for Daisuke. He knew, psychologically, that the death wasn’t his fault, but his heart refused to believe it.

If only he could have been a better friend.

If only he could have asked what was wrong.

If only he had been there.

If only he could have stopped it.

If only he would have accepted that invitation.

Just when he felt that his heart couldn’t die any further, it died more. He fisted his hand above his heart and slowly made his way to the elevator. It was a dull black pain. Not the sharp knife of when it happened. That had been a razor sharp lancing pain all through his chest and throat.

Sometimes it was hard to believe that Satoshi had died four years ago. It just didn’t seem like it had been that long. It was not that time had moved quickly, by god it hadn’t. Every day was as painful as the last. His days traveled like molasses and blurred one into another.

Daisuke pressed the button for the sixth floor.

Why couldn’t he have been a better friend? Loosing Satoshi had been just as bad as it had been when he lost Dark. At least then he could hide behind a smile. Satoshi had been with him all through the trial.

At least he knew that there was nothing he could have done to save Dark. It had been Dark’s decision, after all. Maybe he could have tried harder when arguing with Dark, but Satoshi’s life had been on the line too…

The elevator dinged as it went up level by level. Two, three, four, five…

Daisuke would admit that he had searched, over the years. He had searched for a way to have done away with Krad without loosing Dark. He would admit that he had searched. It had taken him five years to find a way that would have worked.

Funny thing is; he hadn’t even been looking at the time. He had been reading a book on Art History. It was a simple little book that had been stashed in the recesses of the Niwa Library… Or had it been the Hikari? Daisuke could no longer remember.

The procedure wouldn’t have been simple, but it would have worked.

The revelation had brought in a new kind of pain.

Six, seven, ding! The steel doors slid open with a slow soft hiss.

If Daisuke could have, he would have done anything to go back and get things right.

Daisuke could feel the stares as he walked down the hallway to the meeting room. Some whispers ceased and other started anew. Daisuke was Keiji Saga’s top model. Age and maturity had brought him more into his looks. He no longer looked childish, as he once had. His hair had mellowed out into looking much like a ruby red version of his fathers, and his clouded red eyes were considered ‘sensual’ by many.

Daisuke didn’t consider himself beautiful. He was too skinny, he looked too tired, and he was clumsy and awkward. His eyes looked too haunted to fit well in any picture. He remembered once being called ‘cute’ by Dark, but he doubted it counted anymore.

Daisuke’s pale thin hand grasped the shiny golden door knob tightly and he turned it slowly before pushing the door open and looking up from the minute patterns on the carpeting. He tried to straighten his spine and lift his head. He had been scolded enough in his earlier years in the agency.

The person who entered the room looked cold and detached. His ruby red hair framed his face and brushed his shoulders. It was tucked behind one ear on his left where an amethyst dangled from a fine silver chain. His eyes were dark and focused forward. He didn’t smile.

“Saga-san? You called me a half hour ago.” Daisuke stepped in the room and detachedly looked at the group of suits sitting around an oblong table. He suddenly felt rather underdressed in his loose white pants and two sizes too big open rust colored dress shirt. He was wearing tennis shoes to boot!

“Ah! Daisuke-chan! Come in, come in!” Keiji Saga was as energetic as ever, not even batting an eye at Daisuke’s level stare. “I want you to meet Makotou-san, Takanori-san, and Hejimoto-san!”

Daisuke softly closed the door behind him and walked slowly over to Keiji Saga’s side. He performed a slight half bow in greeting and called out a quiet ‘Ohayou gozaimasu.’ Daisuke attempted to mentally attach the names to the men but wasn’t quite sure if he got them all right. Keiji Saga had said their names rather quick and his gestures were quite broad. You never could quite tell what Keiji Saga was saying when he was in the middle of an introduction. He always said things either too quickly or his hand gestures distracted from what he was saying.

The greetings between the men were rather swift and factual. Daisuke couldn’t help a mental pat on the back when he realized that he had in deed gotten the men’s names right.

According to a brief over view by Keiji Saga, the three men were representatives from a sister company. Apparently Keiji Saga wasn’t the ultimate boss in the field. Or at least he probably wasn’t…

Keiji Saga had apparently recommended him for their space in a magazine. Daisuke soon found himself sitting in a seat looking through a magazine that he would be posing for. The clothing covered everything from making a person look like a rainbow society member to a gothic vampire. Really, the pink poof-balls and rainbow striped shirts and socks were a bit much, even for him. The diversity of the magazine was unusual and it mildly peaked his interests. It could be a good and welcome distraction.

It would distract him from frustration of searching for time-travel rituals, anyway.

…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…

“Come on, Niwa! Look at the camera and give it your best look! We need to get this wrapped up!” Keiji Saga was standing next to the photographer calling out strings of encouragement. His blond hair was fluffed up in disarray and he was moving his arms like a traffic signaler. Daisuke could almost hear the long beeps of a delivery truck in reverse.

Slightly annoyed, Daisuke arched an eyebrow and attempted a leer he remembered Dark giving him many times. The end result lifted his spirits a bi

Keiji Saga’s motions ground to a halt and the most dumbfounded look adhered to his face. “Dai-chan!” he squawked hoarsely, “Not like that! No! Daisuke!” Keiji Saga lunged to put himself in front of the camera to block any photographs. “No! Bad Daisuke! No! This is directed at children! No leering at the camera!”

Fall Through - Chapter 5

2007-08-19T01:40:11Z

Title: Fall Through
Genre: Drama, Romance
Category: YuYuHakusho/Harry Potter
Summary: Have you ever wondered how Harry survived the Killing Curse? He didn't.
KuronuexKurama or if you'd rather consider it, HarryxKurama, seeing as Harry IS Kuronue. Shounen ai.

The sun was shining, the people were bustling, and Harry was comfortably sitting on a stool in front of a banana split. Hermione and Ginny sat across from him and Ron was sitting at his side. It was a comfortable arrangement. As of so far, their conversation had mostly centered on what each had done over the summer. Hermione had gone out of the country again, to Spain, this time, and Ron had been getting in fights with his brothers and flying in the backyard when not de-gnoming the grounds.

Ginny had apparently been using some of the Weasley-Twins’ jokes back on the twins. It had been amusing, how startled Ron was to hear of her escapades. His jaw had been hanging open like a goldfish and his eyes were just as wide as one too. Apparently, the twins had been experimenting with a prank to manipulate hair. They had nearly made Ginny bald.

The Weasley children had also brought up something strange about their parents. Apparently, they were taking to leaving at strange hours. They hadn’t been given explanation as to why, yet.

“Yeah, just yesterday I got up to get a drink of water and nobody was home,” Ginny was leaning on the tabletop taking bites of her ice cream in between sentences. She was eating a flavor that was apparently very similar to black licorice.

“I’ve ‘erd ‘em leavin’ a ‘ew times,” Ron mumbled through his spoon, earning himself a scolding from Hermione.

“Ron! Take your spoon out and swallow before you talk!”

“Bu’ ’Mione!” came the feeble protest.

“Ron! Take it out!”

Harry found himself having to hide a smile at their antics. Ron and Hermione made pretty good friends. Harry was pretty sure, even though he had almost no one to measure them up against.

Harry’s mood sobered at a passing thought. “Have either of you heard from Snuffles lately?”

Ginny’s confused uttering of “Snuffles?” was the only odd one out of the chorus of ‘no’.

Harry sighed; he hadn’t received any news of Sirius through the summer either. He knew it was understandably worrying. He had gotten used to getting a letter from some far away place every once a month or so. The man was like a puppy at times. Harry could really picture himself becoming friends with the man if he ever got the time to get to know him. As it was, Sirius Black had become a support beam. He was the only man Harry could talk flat out to without worrying that what he was saying would be taken the wrong way. It also helped that everyone apparently thought that Azkaban had knocked more than a few screws loose.

“Who is Snuffles, Harry?” Ginny’s tone was almost a whine. Harry was momentarily startled to realize that she didn’t know who they were talking about. They had never gotten around to telling her.

“Just someone we met the year before last, Gin,” Ron placated.

“Err… He is a friend of Professor Lupin,” Harry added. If Ron was going to misdirect her, then so was he. Harry had a feeling that Ron would get angry with him otherwise. The boy was too protective for his own good, when it came to Ginny.

Ginny just furrowed her brows in a confused expression in response.

Realizing that he hadn’t answered with the best response, Harry thought up a lie quickly. “I met him while I was doing the one-on-one sessions.”

“Oh… You never told me…” Ginny looked down at her ice-cream and everyone else at the table sagged slightly in relief. She usually wasn’t one to take answers without question.

“We just didn’t think it was important, Ginny.” Hermione gave Ginny a one armed hug and proceeded to wave at someone behind Harry and Ron.

Curious, Harry turned around to look. “Oh! Hello Mr. Weasley!” He easily spotted his friends’ father’s red head bobbing through the crowd in their direction.

A few moments later Arthur Weasley made it into range. “Hello kids!” he greeted warmly as he stepped up the stairs in front of the ice-cream parlor. Only five creaky footsteps and he was standing at a standstill next to Harry’s right shoulder. He was smiling serenely, although the tired look in his eyes hadn’t let up any at all.

He just seemed… old to Harry. Just old. Too old and too weary for whatever he was doing to make him seem such a way.

“Did something happen, Mr. Weasley?” Hermione asked curiously, too curiously for her own good, it seemed.

Arthur Weasley frowned in response and sharply shook his head. “No, it’s nothing. Pack up kiddos, we need to go.”

Harry and Ron shared a look over the man’s sudden brusqueness before scooting back their chairs and standing up, although Ron did his with a grumbled complaint. Not failing to grab his ice-cream before they left.

Harry left his without any look of discontent, but not before spearing one of the bananas to munch on. He was still rather like a fruit bat. He drew comfort from the familiar food. It reminded him of when he had been a young child in the Makai, back when his mother had still been around to protect him. It also reminded him of a primary teacher he had once had… She was one of the few welcome memories from his child hood as the ‘freakish’ Potter boy. He left the three scoops of vanilla ice-cream in the bowl. The sugary ice-cream had been making his stomach rather upset anyway.

Soup wasn’t the best thing to be eating everyday for lunch and dinner for three months. Harry’s lips twitched slightly, nearly forming a frown. Harry tucked an errant strand of hair behind his ear and watched Ginny run her ice-cream bowl to the trash.

It was time to go.

…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…

“So I am done?”

“Yes.”

“Thank Inari,” Kurama sighed aloud. He was sitting at the desk, and had he been any less of a collected person; he would have quite bonelessly slumped over the desktop. He leaned back in his chair and looked up at the tiled ceiling, running his slender fingers through his bangs and over his head to the base of his pigtail.

All over. Completely, utterly, done.

Kurama wouldn’t lie—though he was very good at doing so—being done with all the testing and studying was something he had been eagerly looking forward to for ‘weeks’. He knew he was good at remembering things. It had been the fault of that skill, coupled with his abilities in blending in with others that had been the catalyst for his election for this particular mission. But Kurama swore silently to himself with grim determination, he would never let himself get pushed into something that would require posing as a student ever again. Ever.

Kurama shook his head harshly, as if to solid his decision. He flinched as a few strands whacked his face quite sharply. Nearly got his eyes, there…

Takanori was across the room by the time Kurama looked at him again. Books were leisurely being stacked in a magical trunk to get shipped back to where-ever he had gotten them. Book Land, perhaps? One hand held back his auburn bangs and the other adjusted his glasses as he stood up with a sigh.

Kurama couldn’t help watching as Takanori stretched his back. Takanori wasn’t an overly muscular person. He looked more like a scholar than anything, but that was what had caught his fleeting attention. He wasn’t attracted to Takanori, by any means, no. He reminded him of someone else.

A slender bodied man turned back to bare his teeth in a fanged grin, his eyes shadowed by a broken hat balanced over two pointed ears and his long black hair spilling over his shoulders. He tilted his head and vanished.

Inari, he missed Kuronue. Sixteen years wasn’t enough. Not near enough. Time didn’t make the pain lessen any.

At this point he doubted that it ever would. With all the distraction in the last few years, his focus on Kuronue’s death hadn’t been deterred in the least.

Kuronue was still the most important person in his life. Even if that person was dead and gone. Kuronue had been such a playful person, like a child who would never grow up. Just thinking of his antics brought a sad smile to Kurama’s face. Kuronue had been his unbending support through all their years together. The support had never weakened; it had only broken the day Kuronue had died. Never bent, only broken.

They had been like an old married couple, Kurama has thought once in his human childhood. Not the old arguing type, but the serine ones who could talk without words.

Just a head tilt, a smirk, and the message had been sent.

Kurama was harshly brought back to the present by the loud bang of a slammed chest lid.

Time to go. Kurama got to his feet and stuffed a few of the more interesting books, namely the Herbology ones, in his bag and headed for the door. He only stopped once to give a farewell to Takanori before he pulled open the door and headed out for his limited freedom.

He had Yusuke to visit today, didn’t he? Then he had that long plane ride.

Kurama quickly descended the stairs; his feet squeaking with every step, and pushed open the glass door. A soft blast of warm wind immediately buffeted him. It was a comfortable warmth.

Kurama looked around before stepping fully outside. It wasn’t as busy out as it had been the last few times he had left the building. He was leaving earlier, and that was probably the cause. Men and women, girls and boys, cars, bicycles, and motorcycles dotted the street sporadically.

Kurama broke into a slow and even jog down the street. He was going to run his bag home and then head down to The Yukimura’s Diner. He had a feeling that that was where they would all be meeting up. He could vaguely remember talking about it much earlier this break and Yusuke had reminded him a while ago.

Before long he was past the park and on to the home stretch. Just a little further and he took a sharp right onto his family’s walkway. Up the stairs and through the front door, Kurama called out a slightly breathless and cheerful ‘I’m home!’ before heading up the stairs and to his room. He dropped the bag next to his desk and glanced at the mirror.

Unwrinkled shirt? Check. Clean pants? Check. Neat hair? No check.

Kurama reached for a brush and pulled the hair tie out, wincing as more than a few strands of hair came with it. He quickly parted it in two halves and brushed the tangles from bottom up before pulling it back again and reusing the hair tie.

Off to the Ramen Diner, now.

…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…

“You made it!” Yusuke’s voice cut over the din of the crowd as Kurama stepped through the door. Yusuke was sitting on a bar stool clad in a chefs had and dishwashers’ apron. A few couples of people stopped eating their meals and looked up to see the cause of the distraction.

The din quelled slightly before sparking up again with more fervor. Slightly annoyed at suddenly being an object of attention at his entrance, Kurama harshly squished his immediate reaction and plastered a smile and wave onto his persona. Now he just had to get over to Yusuke, who was smirking like nobodies business. It just figured that this would be the way Yusuke would tease him. By Inari, he was popular enough at school!

It was time to suck it up and get over with it. It wasn’t a new sentiment of his, disliking to be put forward for attention. Over the years since he had become human, the thrill from the attention he had garnered in his years as a thief in the Makai had lost their charm.

The space between the tables was an uncomfortable margin, he realized as he weaved his way between them and to Yusuke’s side. It was wide enough to get through, but narrow enough that he found himself occasionally brushing by people’s chairs, arms, and long hair. The layout in The Yukimura’s Ramen Diner was a simple one. There was a glass door half hidden behind cloth blinds outside, and the sunshine streamed through the glass windows all up front when the blinds were pulled up. There were comfortably cozy booths lined up against two of the three available walls and round tables occupied the rest of the floor space. The bar was up at front, where the orders were taken, and near a discreet door that lead up to the Yukimura’s living quarters and an open doorway that lead to the kitchen.

It as simple and effective, but that didn’t make the distance between occupied chairs any easier to easily navigate.

”Hello Yusuke,” Kurama greeted, once he had gotten to the other’s side. He was welcomed by a cheerful smirk, if a smirk could ever be classified as ‘cheerful’. “Am I early?” he asked. Yusuke hadn’t given him a specific time to come, so he could be early. He looked around and couldn’t see anyone else.

”Jus’ a bit. Kuwabara’s in the bathroom, an’ Shizuka and Keiko are upstairs.” Yusuke hiked up an eyebrow over his warm chocolate brown eyes and pointed up at the ceiling. He was still smirking a little, but it didn’t seem to be out of anything but good cheer. “I—“ Yusuke was cut of when he started to speak by the arrival of Kuwabara.

“Ura—“ Kuwabara poked his head out the residential door and cut off what he was saying when he saw Kurama. Kurama waved slightly in a quiet greeting. “Kurama! I didn’t know you were coming!”

”Of course he was, Kuwabara!” Kurama’s attention quickly shifted back to the other teen. Yusuke was scowling darkly at his friend. “I told ya last week.”

”I don’t remember you telling me nothing!” and the argument started to Kurama’s slight exasperation and the customers’ worry.

”I did tell ya!” Yusuke retaliated by jumping off his stool, thereby knocking his ridiculous hat askew. He was seemingly itching for a fight. Recognizing Yusuke’s attempts at starting a fight, Kurama quickly intervened. He prevented Yusuke from getting up in Kuwabara’s face to and starting a potential fist-fight with a distracting question. After all, it wouldn’t do to have a fight in the Yukimura’s Diner, they were hosting the party for them.

“Yusuke… Are we staying down here?” it was a simple question, but it easily caught Yusuke’s attention.

Before Kurama knew it he had been hustled up the stairs and into the Yukimura’s living room. The subject change was a success.

The time flew by quickly, while they were waiting for the others to arrive, much to his relief. The time spent waiting for the others was filled by a recounting of the mission Kurama had missed. The recounting was more amusing than the assignment had been, with Kuwabara and Yusuke’s bickering over the facts. Kurama found himself muffling a laugh over who ‘got the bad-guy’ and what happened to Hiei, the only fact that Yusuke and Kuwabara could agree on.

Kurama couldn’t see how anybody could ever mistake Hiei for a girl. Even if they were hanging a bit shy on any intelligence.

The only other fact that Yusuke and Kuwabara found themselves agreeing on was that it had been what should have been a relatively easy retrieval mission. Their target had been a low-class youkai that had been involved in a string of serial murders. Kurama probably would have been sadder over how many had died before Yusuke’s team was sent out if he hadn’t gotten so used to death.

He was sad to have missed it. It was the fact that he wouldn’t be seeing them much that made him regret it. He had two years to look forward to in Scotland, and he was sure he would much rather stay in Japan. Kurama could confidently say that out of everyone he now knew, he would most definitely miss Yusuke the most. Over the few years he had gotten to know the boy he had begun to consider him an irreplaceable friend. For all Yusuke’s punk-ish looks really was a kind hearted and perceptive person. That is, when it really counted. Kurama couldn’t even begin to count the social blunders the black haired detective had made in his presence.

At least he was honest when making those blunders.

Before he knew it the party was in full swing. The upper story of the Yukimura’s Diner was comfortably full with Kurama’s comrades and close acquaintances. Shizuru and her brother were energetically competing in a racing game on Keiki’s game system and Yusuke was sitting near him cheering Shizuru on. Snacks were happily scattered around the room, victims of a short-lived food fight between Yusuke and Kuwabara. Keiko had joined in the food fight, actually. Keiko had been on Kuwabara’s side during the ‘fight’. It was Kurama's guess that she blamed Yusuke for starting it.

Kurama himself, at the moment, happened to be comfortably seated between the couch and the coffee table. He made a brief sound of acknowledgement when Yusuke dropped down on the couch next to him. He had bit of that too.

Kurama’s attention had been firmly affixed on what he had been eating; pretzels and rice crackers. Rice crackers were his secret love in human food. His house was never without a large stock of them. He was a little embarrassed to know that he had already packed away a years worth of them in his luggage for the trip. But really! He didn’t think he’d last long with out them. He had never thought he’d develop a sweet tooth and addiction for the things. Nor Pocky, but that was only the Glico brand Caramel.

“Hey… Kurama?” Yusuke started off, catching Kurama’s attention. He was looking too curious for his own good. It was clearly reflected in his face.

Kurama looked up and studied Yusuke’s face for a second before slowly answering, “Yes, Yusuke?” His brows furrowed slightly and he sat up slightly straighter. Yusuke was being serious and that deserved his attention.

“Where did you say you were going?” he leaned across the couch, as if to get a better look at Kurama’s face. Almost as if he were looking for lies. It troubled Kurama slightly, not that he’d admit it out loud.

On the other hand, he also looked like a pleading puppy, begging for a bone.

A verbal smile entered his voice at the thought. “I am starting off in London, England, and then I will be staying at a castle in Scotland.”

“A castle?” Yusuke gripped the couch cushions in his hands. “That seems fun…” he added a bit belatedly at Kurama’s amused expression.

“Yes, a castle. I will be attending school there.” It wasn’t a lie. Kurama hoped Yusuke wouldn’t be interested in asking what classes he would be taking. As it was, Yusuke’s expression had soured at the mention of it being a school.

Yusuke huffed despondently, “School? You’re taking classes in a castle?”

Kurama shook his head and reached for a pair of rice crackers. “Yes, I will be attending classes at the castle. I will be living there till summer, when I will be coming back home.” He ripped open the plastic wrapper and carefully pulled out one of the crackers.

Yusuke made a very audible groan at the thought of attending classes.

Kurama smiled and leaned against the floral printed couch. “I will be sharing a dorm room with a few of my classmates. I will be living on campus.”

“Whoa, Kurama, England?” Kuwabara entered the conversation abruptly. “Man, I wish I were you right now,” he added when their attention shifted to him. With some difficulty he shoved Yusuke aside and bonelessly plopped down on the corner of the couch. “I’ve always wanted to go to some part of England!”

“No shit, Kuwabara!” Yusuke rolled his eyes and Kuwabara glared in reply. “You really hit the jackpot, Kurama.”

Kurama shook his head and took a bite out of his rice cracker. That was Yusuke for you. Disgusted by the thought of it being for school but awed over the place. One would think that after traveling to the Makai, he would be over the novelty of going to different places. There was no other place like the Makai. “I was just lucky. It’s for school and I am leaving tomorrow.”

”When will you be back?” Shizuru’s drawl interrupted their conversation.

“I’ll be back from the beginning of June to the end of August.” Kurama twisted in his little nook to direct his reply back to the chain smoker.

“That’s good, a’ least.” Kuwabara nodded with his words.

“I thought you weren’t allowed out of the country.” Keiko finally joined the conversation. She had been busy shutting down the game system and turning off the TV.

“Koenma has already granted me permission. I talked to him about it a week ago.” Or rather, Koenma informed him of it a week ago. If this hadn’t been a mission, Kurama sincerely doubted he would have ever made it out of the country. Not in this lifetime, at least.

Keiko nodded. “I just thought… I thought he would say no.” She brushed her honey-brown bangs out of her eyes and continued, “You still are on probation, aren’t you?”

Surprised that Keiko remembered that, Kurama hesitated a moment before nodding, “Yes. I still am on probation.” Kurama started looking for a clock. He knew that any more questions on this subject line could reveal his mission. He didn’t want to lie any more than necessary, no matter how good he was at lying.

It only took him a moment to find a clock that was proudly announcing that it was going on nine o’clock. Grasping at the excuse it offered he off conveniently mentioned that he needed to be going soon. After all, he had a plane to catch in the morning.

A chorus of ‘don’t forget to write us’, ‘see you next year’, ‘see you later’, and ‘good bye’ prefaced his exit. He left with promises to write at least once a month and to send pictures or souvenirs.

…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…

Kurama had fallen asleep as soon as he had gotten home. It seemed like an early time to fall asleep, but he had more than enough reason for it.

It was four in the morning and his alarm clock had just gone off. Kurama awoke with a startled groan of protest and glared at the blaring clock. Static-y Japanese rock music poured out of it ruining the early morning silence. Reaching out, he pushed the alarm set button and laid still. Being human came with being lazy, though he never much liked getting up early when he was sill ‘Yoko’ Kurama.

About a minute later he began to move again. He propped himself up on his right elbow and rubbed his left hand over his face in an attempt to remove his hair from his mouth. It tasted like his conditioner. Suffice to say, it didn’t taste nice at all. Kurama looked at the clock again, belatedly realizing that he had to actually be on the airplane in less than an hour and a half.

Kurama almost groaned out loud and hurried out of his bed. He had to be at the airport shortly, he only had time to grab a bite to eat and get dressed. All of his luggage had been packed away the night before by his mother. He had been a bit surprised that she had done it. He had expected to have been needed to help, but she did it all on her own.

Kurama pulled a pair of his most comfortable jeans off the back of his desk chair and one of his older white button-up shirts to wear. It was going to be a long flight and he wanted to be comfortable. Leaving his shirt untucked and half unbuttoned, he ran his comb through his hair carefully. Pulling out hair was a painful thing to do with a comb when there was long hair involved. Long hair didn’t just magically become untangled when a comb was near it.

Setting down the comb and heading out of his room, he turned the corner and quickly walked down the stairs, his sock-clad feet thumping with every step. His mother was bound to already be up. She was the one who had told him that she would drive him to the airport. What else could he do? Take a bus?

“Good morning, Shuichi,” Kurama could hear his mother smiling as she greeted him.

“Good morning, mother,” he returned in kind, allowing her to pull him into a brief hug which he returned in kind. “What are we…?” Kurama trailed off in what he was saying when he looked over his mother’s shoulder. He could see green tea sitting on the counter with steamed rice, nori, and a few other simple things.

“I thought you’d like having a nice Japanese breakfast before you leave.” She smiled serenely, “I don’t think you will be having much food like this in Scotland.”

Surprised by her thoughtfulness, Kurama felt a wash of affection for the woman who brought him into the human world.

…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…

Kurama made it to his flight with very few problems. His ticket was for an August 31st five-thirty A.M. flight on a direct route from Tokyo to London. His luggage had been sent off without hitch and his mother sent him off with a tight and slightly teary hug. He was flying first class, though he was lucky to have gotten a window seat. It was more crowded than he was expecting. His mother had reasoned that with the flight being so long, and it being his first flight, he deserved to have a little money wasted on getting a first class ticket.

He was already buckled in, though the plane hadn’t taken off yet. He was busy staring out the window and trying to ignore the girl he was apparently going to be seated with for the entirety of the trip. The overly bubbly girl was trying to catch his attention. It was obvious. Kurama tried to ignore her by watching the few people outside the plane scurry around.

She was obviously not Japanese. Her accent was awful, so stilted it was painful to listen to. He would have offered to speak in English, and Inari, it would have been good practice, had she not obviously been flirting with him. She was probably the most energetic person on the plane at that point in time, and that was including the children sitting behind him. It was most likely the fact that this was a five-thirty A.M. flight. He could have sworn that the man to his front left had just let out a snore!

This was going to be a long flight.

Fall Through - Chapter 4

2007-08-19T01:29:29Z

AND... Here is four... Five is next.

Title: Fall Through
Genre: Drama, Romance
Category: YuYuHakusho/Harry Potter
Summary: Have you ever wondered how Harry survived the Killing Curse? He didn't.
KuronuexKurama or if you'd rather consider it, HarryxKurama, seeing as Harry IS Kuronue. Shounen ai.

“Hiei?” Kurama mumbled quietly and paused in the middle of the sidewalk. He could sense the small fire demon nearby. He frowned slightly and clutched his bag a little tighter. Why was Hiei so close? They weren’t exactly the best of friends and he knew he wasn’t about to be called in to join in a new mission. He already had one lined up, thanks. Kurama continued down the street at a slightly faster pace.

The park was a few streets away. It was just a street off course. He was sure that he could make it to the Building on time. What could he want? He couldn’t help the curiosity. It was a foxes curse, he supposed. He really was as curious as all the myths and legends played him out to be.

He felt himself welcomed by the plants in the park. They weren’t really sentient, but they welcomed him all the same. They greeted him like they greeted the sun.

He felt the presence strengthen behind him and Hiei announced his appearance with a quiet clearing of his throat.

“Yes, Hiei?” he tuned around to greet the smaller demon. Kurama didn’t consider himself all powerful. Yes, he knew he was vain, but not that vain. He knew that if Hiei didn’t want him to know exactly where he was, he would never find him. Hiei looked as well as he always did. He didn’t seem to be suffering any ill effects from the humid summer weather. It had something to do with being a fire demon. He was resistant to the heat.

“Where were you?” the question was blunt. Hiei wasn’t the kind of person to waste on petty words and Kurama knew it well. The only person Kurama had seen him waste words on was Kuwabara, and he was sure that was the only exception.

“What do you mean?” he twisted his voice to sound mildly confused and looked directly at the fire demon. Maybe he wouldn’t see though his bluff?

“Fox.” The reprimand cut his hopes short.

With an internal huff of annoyance, Kurama tried to think of what he could say. Swiftly deciding to keep it as simple as possible and as close to the truth as he could, Kurama took a moment to think. He’d already told Yusuke that he had been studying for a trip, hadn’t he?

“I am studying for a trip,” he brushed his bangs out of his eyes as he spoke, a habit he never could suspend. He paused a moment and shrugged, elaboration never hurt. “Koenma should have told you. I am going to England.” He looked past the smaller demon. The exit of the park was looking so inviting.

Hiei was still standing there, as if a disapproving look would make him spill his heart out. The blood red eyes were accusing. Kurama mused that it was probably an unintentional expression. Hiei, more often than not, had the same accusing look on his face, even when speaking to Yukina.

Kurama eyed the exit again. He took a deep breath, “I will be gone a year,” he huffed, “Maybe even two. I will be back for the summers. I will be attending a boarding school.”

Hiei shifted his weight and backed off a bit.

“I am running late, Hiei, so if you will excuse me…”

Hiei nodded and disappeared in a black blur.

Trying to put the incident out of his mind, Kurama broke into a smooth jog. Soon enough he was past the gates and back on the cement sidewalk. It was still early enough in the day that the air wasn’t too hot and heavy. It was a typical summer in the part of Japan that he resided. It was gradually cooling, day by day, as fall grew closer but the weather was by no means what he would have really considered comfortable.

Kurama loved spring. It wasn’t just the weather that made it so nice. Spring was the catalyst for new life; budding flowers, young animals, new. Fall was a close second, even if it was the time where everything died.

Warm cement pushed against his shoes and the zephyr was tugging at his clothes and hair with grasping hands. Kurama found that physical exertion was something that calmed him. It had been a fail safe way to calm him down all through his first childhood and second.

The streets weren’t as busy as the night before. There was little chance that he would accidentally run into someone. His eyes caught sight of the last corner before the homestretch to the White building. Kurama frankly, had no idea what else to call it. It was just white. He had found that he could either see through something or it was just a wall of white. The only things not white were the stainless steel fixtures, like the water fountain and the door.

Kurama grasped the handle of the door and checked his watch. He didn’t know how log he had spent in the park, though he was certain that it hadn’t been long. His jogging should have made up for it. Two minutes before the hour. He was early.

Kurama felt rueful as he stepped inside. His shoes squeaked slightly against the white tile underfoot while he leisurely crossed the entry. He ignored the unoccupied check in desk and started climbing up the stairs. He only had a few more books to process and them he would be visiting Yusuke and catching the plane the next morning.

One, two, three, four… Kurama counted the equally featureless doors in the hallway till he reached the right one. Takanori-sensei would be in the eight one on the left hand side. Kurama pushed it open and felt the resistance of carpet against the door. Takanori-sensei‘s rug had undoubtedly gotten too close to the door again.

Takanori-sensei was sitting in a warm and comfortable light blue couch. His reading glasses were slipping down his nose and he looked half asleep. At the sound of the door opening he mustered up a white toothed grin and marked his page.

“Welcome back, Shuichi.” He made a motion to get out of his seat on the couch, but Kurama waved him off. Kurama had fallen into a comfortable groove with the teacher. They got along pretty well.

“No need, sensei. I will just get my books,” Kurama gestured to the pile that was on a neat desk. The room he inhabited was the same one that he started every session off in. They changed rooms periodically, every few hours, actually. Picking out a few books from the pile on the desk, Kurama walked across a calming monochromatic blue area rug and sat in an adjacent love seat. His backpack came off his shoulder to drop on the other side of the small couch and he set the books in his lap.

“You just have those three books to get through?” Takanori inquired quietly. Curiously he leaned forward to get a better view of the titles. It was astounding. Really, truly, astounding.

“It is four, actually. One is still in my bag.”

Takanori just shook his head and pulled his attention away from the striking downcast eyes. “Do you have your passport?” his wandering fingers found their way to an errant synthetic couch fiber.

“Yes, I do. It was sitting on my desk when I got home last Tuesday.”

“Aah.” Takanori couldn’t think of anything more to say.

The silence stretched on uncomfortably for several minutes while Kurama studied and his teacher fetched a book off the shelf and some paperwork out of a drawer. They didn’t really have anything else to do.

“Takanori-sensei?” Kurama broke the silence.

“Aah?” the spirit-employee looked up at his name.

Kurama set his current text-book—Standard Book of Spells by Miranda Goshawk—aside. “I have found something fascinating in these text books. The books talk about ‘gindylows’, ‘vampires’, and ‘werewolves’. They are like demons, are they not?”

“Hmm?” he asked unintelligibly. “I haven’t thought of it. They’ve been around longer than I have been working.” He made a come-hither motion towards the leather bound textbook. Kurama handed the book over and sat back in his seat. “Hmm…” he flipped through the pages looking at the pages Kurama had brought up.

“I think that gindylows should have been classified as demons,” Kurama was blunt. Demons had been mostly driven out of the human world-the Ningenkai-around the time he had been born. They had been completely driven out by the time Kuronue had been 300. He wondered why this breed had been left behind. Had humans deemed them manageable and left it at that? The text stated that the creature actually did kill people…

“Yes, I agree with you.” Takanori seemed pensive as he flipped the smooth and thick pages. The paper made miniscule whooshing noises, much like the sounds made by distant wings of a bird. Kurama watched the honey-auburn hair flip and glide around Takanori’s contemplative expression. “I think Werewolves were left behind because they were originally human,” Takanori suddenly flipped subjects.

An arched eyebrow was Kurama’s only reaction to the diversion.

Takanori snapped the text shut and leaned on the arm of the couch to get a more direct view of Kurama’s face. “I think Gindylows were probably left behind because of how predictable their actions were. I’m just going out on a limb here, but…”

“They use the same method of attack every time?” it was a half attempt at finishing the other man’s sentence.

“Exactly,” The spirit-employee nodded derisively. “Apparently, the same attack has worked on them for over a hundred years.”

“Gindylows must not adapt well…” he could hardly believe that a species wouldn’t get wiped out if it didn’t change its tactics even a little. It was a strange thought. Everything progressed by change. Anything that didn’t change was gradually left behind in the dust. It was almost like something had been protecting the species.

There was a moment of silence unbroken by anything but the sound of their breathing. Not even sounds from outside could penetrate the buildings thick white walls and only the lights gave off the hint of mechanical charge.

“So, Vampires are like Werewolves? Most Vampires were originally human.”

“That is right.”

Kurama looked at the titles over titles of the other books lying next to his leg. They were both on Herbology, Flesh-Eating Trees of the Word and One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. They both appealed to his sense as a fox-sprit that was so deeply affiliated with plant life. The humans had a cousin of his Death Tree? It was an entertaining thought.

He preferred to ignore the copy of Defensive Magical Theory that was lying neglected in his bag. Wilbert Slinkhard’s books put even ever-education-loving Shuichi asleep.

…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…

The sound of repeated jabbing of the doorbell button came as a god-send for Harry. He had fixed breakfast and had only gotten a nasty glare and a snarl for all his troubles and burnt finger. He hadn’t even gotten leftovers out of it! The Dursley’s reminded him more and more of untamed farmyard animals by the day. Harry was comfortably leaning against the window watching Arthur Weasley’s blurred hair disappear out of sight under the porch eves of Number 4 Private Drive.

The sound of the front door swinging open was prelude to one Vernon Dursley huffing and puffing up like the big bad wolf from childrens stories.

A roar of, “What are you doing here?” echoed up the stairwell and Harry took it as his cue to start grabbing his personal belongings. On the corner of his ratty old broken desk was his treasured photo album and invisibility cloak. He was pretty sure that he shouldn’t treasure the photo album the way he did, but it was the sentiment behind it that he felt so touching. Hagrid had gone out of his way to put together something that the half-giant thought he would like. It was really touching. Not many showed such caring in the Makai or even around Surrey.

The people of Surry were quite content to wander their lives completely blind. He doubted that the sentiment would ever change. Kuronue had only had three people to show such caring and two of those hadn’t even really been his in the beginning. One had been Youko Kurama and the other two had been Lily and James Potter, however indirectly their caring had been.

The door slammed, knocking Harry out of his reverie. The sounds of his uncle’s snarls and Arthur’s placations continued to drift to his ears. Although he could listen in to their conversation, Harry felt no need to. He had a feeling of what the conversation was about. Why strain his ears when he had no need?

The floorboards creaked under his soft footed gait across the room. The boards were in need of a repair but they would never get fixed. Harry didn’t bother to turn on the light when he started folding the liquid-like material of his invisibility cloak over the contents of the loose floor-board. He only left his water bottle and a few other ‘summer time’ items discreetly hidden in the hidey-hole.

Harry clutched the bundle close to his chest with his left arm-as if it were a priceless bauble he had gained on one of his thefts-and plucked his glasses off the center of his desk. The doubled footsteps and stomps were right at his door and Harry could hear the tumblers fall as his door was unlocked lock by lock. He had almost forgotten the bent monstrosities. They didn’t really help anymore. His vision had changed much since he had gotten the pair.

The door swung out and Harry was greeted with the sight of Vernon’s burgundy face and Arthur’s serious expression.

“Err…” Harry started, as if trying to figure a way into explaining why he was standing in his doorway. “Hello Mr. Weasley. Nice to see you again?” He was Harry now, not Kuronue, not a hybrid. He was classic old stalling Harry Potter, completely unassuming and a sheep in ill-fitting lions clothing.

“Hello Harry,” Mr. Weasley looked rather relieved as Vernon stormed over to the end of the Hall. Vernon didn’t trust them to be alone. “Let’s get your stuff, shall we?” He poked his head in the barren room and looked around for a non-existent trunk. “Where is it?” Tired looking blue eyes looked into Harry’s shadowy emerald.

“It’ under the stairs, Mr. Weasley,” Harry quietly informed him while taking a few steps out of his room to join his friends father in the hallway.

“How can you use it there?” Arthur swung the door shut and walked ahead of Harry to the stairwell.

“Err…” ‘you can’t’ Harry sarcastically answered in his mind. Sometimes a non-answer was better option. Mr. Weasley was his ticket out of Surrey for the Summer.

Creak, creak, creak went the stairs underfoot. “Right. Alohomora.” Arthur rounded the bronze and stained wood banister and pointed his want at the cupboard. He was ignorant of the way Vernon Dursley puffed up like a puffer fish about to blow. The door swung open at the spell and Arthur pointed his wand at the trunk. “Reducio. Say goodbye to your uncle and lets go, Harry.” He pocketed the miniscule trunk and opened the front door for them to leave.

Harry glared at his Uncle, “Goodbye, Uncle Vernon,” his posture was rigid as he quickly swept out the front door.

A quick apparation later, Harry was standing in front of the Burrow with Arthur Weasley. The customary hustle and bustle of the home was present and he could hear Ginny yelling about a missing shoe. His appearance was quickly noted and he was quickly ushered in by the Weasley brood. As much as he hated to admit it, Harry did agree with Draco Malfoy that the Weasley family had a few too many children—not that he’d have it any other way.

Arthur Weasley unobtrusively made his way up the stairs.

“Harry!” Ron was at his side and towering over Harry’s slight frame as soon as he got in the front door.

“Err… Hello Ron,” he backed away a few steps. He had every right to be miffed didn’t he? Three months of no letters! He looked up at the open freckled face of one Ronald Billius Weasley.

“How are you, mate?” he looked a bit shifty and nervous.

“You didn’t write me.” Blunt and no-nonsense. He clutched his right hand in a reflexive fist. His left arm was still tightly grasping his invisibility cloak parcel.

Ron looked down in shame and his ears turned a vibrant shade of fire-engine red. “Dumbledore said it wasn’t safe…” he mumbled quietly.

“What would they do, Ronald? Follow the owl?” he snapped back. It wasn’t right that his friends, Ron, would let people dictate their life so completely. Shouldn’t their loyalty be to him, not Dumbledore?

“Sorry Ha—“ Ron was cut off by Hermione’s enthusiastic greeting.

“Hi Harry!” she rushed down the stairs like a rambunctious toddler with a grin pasted on her face. “How was your summer so far? Were the Dursleys okay? Did you get your homework done? Have you gotten your booklist yet?” Her tumbled curls spilled over her shoulders and her eyes were sparkling cheerfully.

“Hey! Not so fast Hermione! One question at a time! One question at a time!” his hands were up in a warding gesture. “You’d know if you mailed me.”

She seemed to deflate at that. “But Harry--”

“I know. Ron told me.”

The air was heavy for a moment before Molly Weasley broke in. “Alright, kids. Get going, get going. We need to get down to Diagon Ally today!” She made large shooing gestures at her children with a determined look in her eye. The brood plus Hermione rushed up the stairs.

“Hello, Harry dear.”

“Hello Mrs. Weasley,” Harry smiled. The plump red haired woman greeted him affectionately.

“You’re sharing a room with Ron, tonight.” She brushed his shaggy hair behind his ear and tutted. “Looks like you need a hair-cut.”

Harry just shook his head, undoing her gesture. “No, I’m fine, Mrs. Weasley. It’s better this way.” He paused a moment and looked up the rickety stairs. “Err… Mrs. Weasley? I’m going to go up to see Ron, okay?” he started his journey up the stairs and left Molly Weasley to shake her head in disappointment and leave the entry way.

…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…

Harry had left Hermione looking at the cat products and Ron at owl at the Magical Menagerie. Harry himself was hidden in the back looking though less noticed things. He had already promised not to leave with out them for safeties sake.

Harry was actually hoping to find a snake to talk to, though he knew the chance that he would find one was slim. He muffled a snicker with a discrete cough. Foxes and snakes, hooray. Both could kill him. Harry lifted up the corner of a black cloth that was over a cage. It wasn’t a snake. Harry jerked back and dropped the cover back over the cage when it hissed. It was a mottled lime green, bog green, and brown lizard with fish-scales here and there. It was a true-blue eyesore.

Snakes weren’t stunning conversationalists, but they would do. Hearing anything from the perspective of such a naturally different creature was always and interesting experience.

“Harry! Harry, where are you?” Hermione’s voice cut above the crowd and noise. The Magical Menagerie was crowded as always, perhaps even more so because the first day of school was coming up so quickly.

“Over here!” He shouted as loud as he could, returning the favor. He cringed slightly and rubbed his throat, thinking that it hadn’t been the best move he could have made. His voice was still struggling against disuse. It wouldn’t be any better till the first week in of school.

“Come to the front door!” Hermione’s voice cut over again, “We still need to go to the Apothecary!”

Harry started on the tedious job of getting though the crowd. The Apothecary was a strange place. It smelt awful and ingredients hung from every available surface, even the ceiling. The man who manned the counter was a rather dreary and scruffy person. He looked completely at ease in his environment. Despite the stores less than stellar appearance, Harry knew everything worked well. At least the man was reliable…

All hail! Sunlight! Harry finally pushed his way all of the way through the crowd and reached for the sun, taking a deep breath of the outside air. The sun was shining, the people were scurrying, Ron and Hermione were staring… Wait… Staring? “Ron? Hermione?”

“Nothing Harry. Nothing. Come on. Let’s go.” She huffed and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

Ron chose not to say anything, and the trio made their way down the market street.

A few stores later the Apothecary popped up with a clearly labeled, if a bit old, sign and a few mostly closed off windows.

“Come on!” She hurried inside and Harry and Ron reluctantly followed. Ron reluctantly because he didn’t like the smell, and Harry, because the smell made him a tad dizzy.

All in all, it was a fairly fast affair. Harry kept his attention on a collection of teeth that were hanging on a rope from the ceiling while Hermione negotiated with the shop-keeper on getting the potions kits refilled and updated for the coming year. He just had to dig out the required payment and hand it over.

“Err… Do you want to go to Florean’s?” Harry asked as Hermione handed over the sickles, galleons, and knuts. “I’ll pay.” He added at Ron’s longing expression.

“Sure Harry!”

“That’d be great, mate!”

Harry frowned momentarily, “Do you know where Ginny is? I wanted to know what you guys have been up to over the summer…”

“I think she’s at Madam Malkins.” Ron shrugged uninterestedly and started walking. “I think I saw here there with Mum, before we went in the Menagerie.”

“I think I saw her there too,” Hermione chipped in, falling into stride at Harry’s left.

Harry just nodded and started scanning the crowd for a spark of red hair. Ginny was a sweet girl, really. He didn’t get to talk to her much but he knew that much. He was certain that she would be the one to talk to about what was recently going-on. She had a good eye for what was happening around her. The Chamber of Secrets fiasco had made her more weary and observant.

Drabble: Lost in the City

2007-07-04T05:11:00Z

Just a 100 word drabble on the prompt 'lost in the city'. Starring my muse Jin. ^^' I have absolutely no idea when I wrote this. Long enough ago that my writing is entirely different, at least. Probably eighth or ninth grade...

Ah, well. I like it all the same.

“Lost in the City”

“Oh how wonderful,” sixteen year old Jin grumbled under his breath sarcastically, glaring under his bangs at all the passersby. This was just great! He had been sure he had been on the right way to Elm Street! He should have passed it by now!

He could tell that all his glaring was starting was starting to make random people who were observant enough to notice it in the loud and obnoxious hustle and bustle of the city nervous. Say! A mother just grabbed her kid and jogged away!

Shaking his head, Jin scraped his hair out of his face and dug around in his backpack for the map. He just had to get lost didn’t he?

Fall Through-Chapter3

2007-05-14T13:58:33Z

Ne... Here is the next chapter. Might as well post it too.

Title: Fall Through
Genre: Drama, Romance
Category: YuYuHakusho/Harry Potter
Summary: Have you ever wondered how Harry survived the Killing Curse? He didn't.
KuronuexKurama or if you'd rather consider it, HarryxKurama, seeing as Harry IS Kuronue. Shounen ai.

The birds were atwitter, the sun was shining, and the storm from the night before was long gone. Kurama pulled up his blinds and opened his window to the morning. Wet earth emanated from his back yard and he could clearly smell his roses. It was nice, he reflected. Very nice and relaxing. He had been way too stressed lately, with all the studying he had been doing. He frowned slightly and stuck his head and shoulders out the windows where the slight breeze played with his hair and ran over his arms and shoulders. The least Koenma could have done was give him more time.

He was sure that he would miss his plants. He had created an impressive garden for his mother several years back. Daisies, roses, thyme... He even had grown her a few miniature trees and shrubs. Near a corner he had planted a sickly Cherry tree after his seventh year of living with his mother. Over the last several years it had grown and bloomed into a beautiful one--without his help.

He didn't particularly want to leave home. Much less did he want to go back to the building with the white everything. A puff of breeze ghosted over him and a few birds took flight. The last week had been exhausting.

Go a few hours, move to another room, flip back another few hours, go to another room, flip back, go, flip back, go... He even did it to get some sleep! Go to a room, flip back ten hours, sleep, and move on. He'd been in every room in the building at least twice!

He yawned a bit and quickly found himself having to spit out a mouthful of hair that the wind had playfully deposited into his mouth. After ducking back into his room he moved across the hardwood flooring to his desk. He moved a few papers off to the side and pulled the two folders he had placed there sometime earlier that week out. Bright green eyes stared intently at a book in the photo that was resting on top of one.

Kurama hadn't had much time to look over the folders in great detail, really. He'd been too busy. The first morning after he was given the mission, a man had come to his home around ten in the morning. The man, a person who he found out later was to be the teacher Koenma had stationed at the Japanese School of Magic, had interrupted him while he was in the middle of washing the dishes.

Kurama was tired.

He snagged the cream colored folder and made himself comfortable on his bed. The information in parts was relatively general, he thought, flipping through the pristine pages. Age, date of birth, weight, height, current family, etc, though he was relatively sure that the 'number of hairs on head' was meant as a joke. There were a few places that were more detailed. One that caught his eye was the 'Physical Condition' page. It was a history of accidents and such. It didn't sit well with Kurama, with how the list was so unusually long.

Sharp green eyes continued their way down the page and he discarded it into a pile he was forming. A pattern of read, discard, read, discard was quickly established. With the company of the chirping birds and the ruffling of paper Kurama quickly made his way through Harry's folder.

He sighed softly and watched the sunshine on his opposite wall. Harry sounded like he had had a rough life. His lips twisted in a sad parody of a smile and he reached for a pillow, wishing it were Kuronue instead. His knees were pulled halfway to his chest and his hair spilled messily on his pillow as he hugged said object. He wished that his mother was going to be late in making breakfast for once. He didn't want to leave his home. It's was comforting, how his room was bathed in soft golden light.

Sooty eyelashes fell to his cheeks and he felt himself fall into a light doze.

It didn't feel like much longer when he heard his mother calling up the stairwell.

Kurama pulled him out of his bed and found that he had to snap himself out of looking at it longingly. He couldn't help it, really. Berating himself silently for not getting dressed Kurama kicked himself into high gear, the manila folder somehow finding its way back to his desk with Harry's photo once more sitting on top.

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"Shuichi?" Shiori's voice interrupted the droning repetitive motions of the egg laden fork.

"Un?" startled, Kurama looked up at his mother. He couldn't help sitting up slightly and looking a little closer at her, noticing her unusually serious expression. "Yes mother?" The fork was once more on the plate and his full attention was focused on the woman he cared so much about. She was his saving light. She was his mother, just when he needed one.

She smiled, her eyes crinkling slightly in a weather worn look of love. She tucked the errant strand that always seemed to be escaping her behind her ear before speaking, "It's not that I don't want you to leave..." she absentmindedly brushed out the skirt of her apron and leaned a bit against the pale blue countertops. “I just wonder why you are going so far away. You've been gone so often lately..."

Kurama found himself silently cursing the infantile deity that ordered the mission he was soon leaving for.

Shiori looked down, as if trying to stem an oncoming ramble. She reached up to tuck the already tucked strand of hair, "I mean... You've been leaving for weeks at a time and coming home looking so tired."

Kurama had gotten out of his chair sometime during which she was speaking to wrap his arms around her shoulders in a gesture he knew she would appreciate a lot. He tightened his grip slightly, not enough to hurt her but enough for her to be able to feel the shift. He hadn't hugged her enough as a child, he reflected. Before the accident, he had shied away from most contact, thinking her an unworthy human. He probably would still think her unworthy if it weren't for the care that he could have documented, even before the accident. She had tried her best, even when his father had died, and that was enough for him. She deserved it.

"It is a boarding school, mother," he rested his head against hers in a soothing motion. "It will be a good experience." He felt distinctly guilty at the coming lie but didn't let it enter his tone, "I did not expect to get it, so I did not tell you till I knew for sure." His tone was smooth and his nimble fingers gently stroked her hair, "I am sorry," as if to amend the situation he continued with, "I promise to write you letters," in a slightly teasing lilt.

She laughed slightly at his tone, nodding.

She was the one to pull away, graciously letting her son get back to his breakfast. "What are you going to do there?" her feet made no sound as she made her way over to the sink where she busied herself with washing her dishes, if only to give her hands something to do.

The dark green eyes watched her dry a soft brown colored mug, with a white and blue checkered dish towel, and place it in the cupboards over head. The very same cupboards that once played home to the plates that sent his mother to the hospital for the first time since his birth.

"It is a classical little boarding school in Scotland." He'd told the truth there, though he hadn't said how classical it was. Actually, he mused, maybe it was a bit too ancient for it to be considered classical. It would rather be considered Medieval. "I expect I will get to work on my English while I am there and..." he blinked, suddenly recalling the permission slip, "Ahh. There is a town called Hogsmeade. I will get to go visit it a bit. It is a pretty rural town."

The gentle tone answered with a soft, "That sounds nice," as she turned the handle on the faucet and watched the sudsy water swirl down the stainless steel drain.

Kurama nodded pushed his plate off to the side. With one hand he traced the patterns on the time and with the other he tangled his fingers in his, as of yet, un-rushed hair. Catching a glimpse of the clock he purposely yanked on his hair in a show of frustration. "I need you to sign a permission slip for my trips to Hogsmeade. I'll be back in a minute." Kurama slid off his chair and, uncaring of any creaky floor boards, he gracefully strode across the hardwood flooring and up the old stairs. His open shirt made a show of fluttering slightly behind him in the breeze his grace made.

Back in the kitchen Shiori couldn't help but wonder how she was blessed with such a kind and intelligent son.

Up the stairs was another matter entirely. Kurama couldn't help but wonder why such a wonderful woman had been cursed with such an undeserving son. She deserved better, of that it was certain, he decided while ruffling through the papers in his bag. Pulling out the slightly crumpled sheet of paper he set it on the desk next to the picture and started buttoning up his shirt and pulling on his blazer. He had twenty minutes to get down to the building so he needed to hurry a bit.

A random comb was clenched between his teeth and the bag was slung over his shoulder when he hesitated in the door way. After a bit of thought he snatched the photo of Harry off the desk and put the picture in his pocket. With an almost laugh he shook his head at his developing obsessive-ness.

The stairs creaking underfoot, he half jumped down the rest and took a sharp left to head back to the kitchen. His bag made a dull thump next to the counter and he fished out the permission slip, deftly handing it to his mother.

She looked over the simple form and nodded. “This seems simple enough…” she dug a pen out of the junk drawer and quickly signed her name in, in both uniform English script and Japanese kanji. Shiori laughed and handed the form back to her son, who received it with a soft smile. “I am lucky,” she began, keeping her voice light, “that I still remember how to write my name in English, aren’t I?”

Kurama just smiled at her before looking at the clock. With a quickly hidden wince he bid her a good day and headed for the door. He wasn’t looking forward to where he was going. Magic wasn’t fun. Not at all.

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It was the tapping at his window that brought Harry out of his purposely induced daze. It was his thought, that if you didn’t think about anything, time would pass faster. It wasn’t necessarily true, but the effort of achieving something quite like meditation kept him busy.

It was his guess that how dirty his windows were what kept the owl from running into them. It might have been the fact that they were half open, too. With a loud creak from his mattress, Harry clambered off with the intent of opening the window just enough that the bird could get through. Feeling a tad sorry for the creature, he picked the tired owl up and carried him over to Hedwig's empty cage.

The owl was none other than Errol.

Nimble fingers from one hand gently stroked frayed feathers in a soothing and somewhat affectionate manner. He found that just seeing Errol made him miss his dear old Hedwig all the more. Harry’s other hand awkwardly untied the letter that had been tied to the owls leg. With a quiet sound of triumph Harry pulled it out of the cage and set it on his rickety desk.

He could only guess that the letter had been tied on to prevent the owl from loosing the letter. It would be very easy for such an old owl to drop it if startled by something.

The owl hooted softly when the other hand joined the first in stroking the grey feathers. Tracing over the delicate bones in the ancient owls wings, he smoothed the ruffled feathers. Errol looked so tired… With an apology at the lack of water, Harry found himself pulling the hidden floorboard up to reach for a battered water bottle.

The bottle was clear with a white cap and several dents. It had been one of Dudley’s when his parents had been encouraging him to get out more. Harry had easily nicked it from the living room when no body had been looking. Harry made a mental note to refill it soon, it was only half full.

After pouring a bit in the water dish, Harry finally diverted his attention to the letter innocently sitting on his desk.

The letter was decidedly simple. It was only a few sentences long.

‘Harry,

‘Be there at noon. Dumbledore said you could come to Diagon Alley with us. Have all your stuff packed!

‘Ron’

Vague annoyance coupled with relief were the feelings that he recognized. He was annoyed that Ron hadn’t thought to add anymore to the letter. The boy was supposed to be his friend wasn’t he? He hadn’t heard from him in months and three sentences were all he got. It was disappointing. The fact that he would be leaving early was his only form of relief.

A grin crept its way onto his face. He was leaving, he was leaving! He looked at the clock. 7:32 am. What on earth had possessed him to think that getting up at 6:00 had been a good idea?

Leaving his window open to let the morning breeze in and to allow Errol an exit Harry made himself as comfortable as he could get on the springy mattress. Trying to sleep couldn’t go awry, could it? He moved his head a bit and threw his right arm over his eyes to block the morning sunshine. It was times like this that made him dearly wish to be in his cave, or would he call it a den? Harry wondered. Cave versus den… He dismissed the idea, it didn’t matter.

It was a sudden thought. He missed his partner. Why did he have to die? He’d been so stupid! Harry pressed his arm against his face a bit harder, seeing waves of black in his already dark vision. Harry had made a bad choice—no, Kuronue had made a bad choice, after all, he wasn’t really Kuronue anymore, was he? Why had he gone after the locket? A spring of anguish bubbled up and he crushed it down mercilessly. He was over it. He had to be. Groaning out loud he rolled over and banged his head against the mattress.

“Happier times, happier times…” he mumbled to himself. Fifteen years and he still wasn’t over leaving his one and only behind. This life, he mused, could only be his punishment for being so selfish and arrogant. He was Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, figurehead of salvation. He was the icon of light.

He differed drastically from in his first time around. Kuronue, Bat-Thief extraordinaire! Being a bandit had been rough but it had been his life and he had loved it. The adrenalin rush had been exhilarating, especially when he had had Youko Kurama by his side.

Thinking about Kurama left him wondering about their cave, den, whatever. Was Kurama still there? Had someone tried to loot it? How was Kurama? Did he miss him? Did he move on? He hoped Kurama wasn’t still in mourning, though he hoped the fox had at least missed him a little bit.

Kurama had been a very beautiful demon, in a masculine sort of way. Silver hair, gold eyes, and a height of seven-two, (217 cm) he was very beautiful indeed.

It wasn’t long before the steady sound of his own heartbeat and the mixed memories of Kurama mixed and he slipped off to slumber. It wasn’t long till a nasal screech woke him up, either.

Nary two hours later found Harry craned over the gas stove in the kitchen. Eggs, bacon, and hash browns were cooking at one under his skillful eye. He still remembered back when he couldn’t even cook to save his life. He smirked and absentmindedly tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. Fruit had been his friend.

“Boy!” Vernon barked imperiously, “Hurry it up! I don’t have all day!”

With a quiet, “Yes sir,” Harry focused on the temperature dials and went to re-center the pan he was cooking eggs in. He just barely stifled a yelp as his fingers came in contact with hot metal. According to the muffled snickers he could hear behind him, he hadn’t stifled it well enough. Where had his grace gone?

With a silent huff of despair he ignored the burn and continued working diligently. He could already tell that this was going to be a long day.

Fall Through-Chapter 2

2007-05-14T13:51:15Z

Harry was sprawled out on the harsh mattress face down kicking his legs against the mattress roughly. He was bored, hungry, and he felt like he was going to go insane if he didn’t get out of the house soon. The day before hadn’t been pleasant for Harry. Not pleasant at all. He had done as he had been ordered. He had gotten dressed and hurried out of his room.

When he had arrived downstairs he had been very displeased to find that he was supposed to act as caterer to the Dursley’s and their guest’s whims. Not that he could do anything about it. He was in no situation to do anything about what his family would demand. He thought the reason he was in plain sight this time around was to keep a repeat of the previous offence from occurring. He doubted anything like Dobby would come again, but he guessed they thought it better to be safe than sorry.

He couldn’t wait to leave! He kept up the pattern of kicking for lack of a better thing to do. He couldn’t read his books, they were locked underneath the stairs for another lonely summer, nor could he talk to his owl. He had sent her off to the Weasley’s when he had noticed the bars on his window. He refused to let her stay in her cage to waste away during the summer. He had no doubt that that would be the end result.

He couldn’t do that to his dear Hedwig. He smirked slightly into the mattress and stilled in his movements. He was struck by a chord of amusement that weighed a ton of bricks. An owl. Owl. Owls ate bats. He couldn’t stifle the snickers that bubbled up unexpectedly. It just figured that he would try to befriend two things that would eat bats. Fox and owl.

You see, Harry wasn’t normal, though many would say you could never have called him ‘normal’ in the first place. He was a Bat, a chimera, a demon.

Harry considered himself a good actor. He was fairly proud of his achievements. He had fooled everybody. He hid himself behind a mask of naivety and downplayed any act that would catch attention. If he hadn’t been famous he would have been invisible, just like he had been in his muggle school. Although… when he had been going through his muggle schooling, he had never been expected to be a martyr. They never expected him to be the one to stand up for all that was right. He hadn’t had that expectation heaped on his shoulders in his last life, either. No, they would have never expected him to be a martyr then. It was quite the opposite, in fact.

He sat up quickly and grabbed himself the single flat pillow that was falling off the side of the bed. As soon as the pillow reached his hands he threw himself down again, bringing it down on his head. He just couldn’t seem to stay still… Lifting up the corner of his pillow, he sighed and blearily looked out the window. He was just itching to move and exhausted at the same time.

The pillow fell softly on his head again and Harry quit moving. He missed his friend… Not Ron, not Hermione. He missed his first friend, the Fox.

This life was boring, he had decided. He wanted to go home. He missed being Kuronue, the Bat-thief extraordinaire. Spring green eyes fluttered shut and he drifted off to the dreams of his last life, all of them centered around the silver haired kitsune.

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Dark and intelligent leaf green eyes tiredly followed their teacher as the man waved around his flimsy wand animatedly. The man was demonstrating a spell while the watcher sat in a chair with a book open on his lap.

“And that’s how you do it.” The professor stopped his jerky trek across the room and crossed his arms. His inquisitive stare was silently asking if the other person understood what had just been performed.

Kurama covered a yawn with a polite gesture and nodded. His eyes were drooping. Kurama supposed he was doing fairly well. He had nothing to do but memorize the course contents. He wasn’t expected to do all the extra assignments as long as he could say what spell did what when asked in a review. Doing anything more was unrealistic. He was happy with the results so far, and he knew he was continually startling the tutor with his fast progress. He was more than just mediocre in Potions, with his affinity for some of the ingredients, and the prior experience with using some of the Makaian plants in medicine, and he did well in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Herbology. A person needed to have at least some ability to fight to use the defensive spells, seeing as the spells relied on more than just a person’s magic. After all, why would a spell work if there were no intent behind it?

Herbology was another matter. He was a plant user. It was as simple as that. No explanations needed.

He had been working with his tutor for two months. Two whole months that spanned less than a week. He closed the book in his lap with a snap and stood up. With a quick nod to the teacher, he set it on the coffee table with the rest of his work books. It was time for him to go home.

Time turners were peculiar, he had decided while standing up and beginning to gather his possessions. His stuff wasn’t much, just a few books that he absently slid into a rucksack. After shaking his bag slightly to settle the loose pencils on the bottom, he swung it over his shoulder. He bowed politely, and after a few words on what they would be covering later, he left, traversing the long bright halls.

His progress in his studies had reached to fourth year material. He was quite the lucky one. Kurama was gifted with a mind like a steel trap. What came in never could escape. He smiled slightly. He guessed it had to do with the fact that a single kitsune in his race could become one of the oldest creatures in existence if they stayed out of trouble.

Kurama, himself, had nearly reached 1000 years old. Then that fateful theft occurred, where his life had crashed down around him. His fist clenched tightly around the strap of his bag and sped up his pace and the memory nagged him. It wasn’t a pleasant this for him to remember. It seemed to keep popping up, no matter how deep he had been trying to bury it.

Kurama pushed open the glass and steel door only to be hit with the sharp smell of storms and wet concrete as he stepped out of the building. A rare summer storm had popped up, turning the sky a stormy mix of violets, blues, and grays. Gazing into the dark sky all he could see for miles were dark storm clouds that threatened to pour at a moments notice. It was less than doubtful that it would wait to rain till he reached his home.

Every three to four weeks he got to go home to sleep, the rest of the time he had been spending in different rooms so he wouldn’t run into himself. Apparently, it generally caused havoc when it happened. Paradoxes. He didn’t particularly relish the thought of killing himself. Even if that wasn’t the consequence, he doubted he could fit one hundred and twenty copies of himself into his bedroom over the course of only a few days.

His eyes passed over the many faces he passed by almost without seeing them. It wasn’t till a voice yelled his name that he focused his attention.

“Kurama!” the voice called again.

Catching the fact that the voice came from behind him had him turning around as he searched the crowd, finding Yusuke almost immediately. The other teen was rudely and enthusiastically pushing through the crowd, seemingly delighted by the angry looks directed at his back by his unfortunate victims. A green and blue umbrella was haphazardly held in his hands and he sometimes used it to make his way through. The people who had been hit by it were throwing even darker glares than the others.

“There you are!” warm brown eyes were all Kurama could see for a moment before a strong arm crashed into his chest. He staggered back a few steps and was pulled around till he was facing forward and walking again.

Still slightly stunned by the overly enthusiastic greeting he nearly missed the feeling of Yusuke’s arm dropping off his shoulder. “Yusuke?” he asked quietly, politely.

“Man… You look tired Kurama. Have you been sleeping alright?” his expression was one of concern.

“Hmm? Yes. I’ve been sleeping fine, Yusuke.” He smiled reassuringly and dropped his shoulders slightly, trying to reinforce an innocent persona. It was true. He was. Mental exhaustion was a bit different than physical.

Apparently not believing him, but not willing to push him, Yusuke dropped the subject. The Fox could take care of himself, after all. “Where have you been lately, Kurama?” he asked, changing the subject, “I thought we were supposed to meet up at Keiko’s restaurant yesterday.”

The rain started to fall in big fat drops and Yusuke made an almost comical expression of affront when one hit him in the nose.

Kurama covered up a laugh with a cough and smirk.

“Aww! Fine!” He opened the umbrella, nearly hitting Kurama in the head whilst doing so.

Ducking under it to join the discretely pouting detective he began speaking, “I’ve just been busy. I’m taking something of a summer course.” He didn’t even pause as he continued in a semi-lie, “It’s just prep. I found out recently that I am going overseas for a year or two.” He smiled cheerily, “It’ll be fun. I’ve never been to Europe before.”

A confused glance was shot his way. “Really? You’re willing to be gone that long?” They took a left into a less populated stretch and continued walking, pushing through the dense crowds. He’d make it to his home no matter the route he took.

Kurama felt mildly irritated by the question, although it was easy to shake it off. That was, because, quite frankly, he wasn’t all that willing to leave her for so long. It was really quite like Yusuke to blunder across the thing that was really needling him right off the bat. His personality really was perfectly reflected by his adorable blue spirit beast—no matter how hard he tried to hide it. He was almost too caring and perceptive.

He faintly pursed his lips for a moment, trying to formulate an answer. Deciding to wing it he tilted his head slightly, giving Yusuke a brief glance at his face. “I’m actually a bit worried about that,” he answered honestly, relaxing slightly in the even pitter-patter of rain on their shared umbrella. “I think I’ll miss it here.”

“You’ll miss us or your mom?” he seemed cheerful, teasing. He shifted his grip on the umbrella and nudged the other, pushing Kurama out into the rain for a second. Yusuke laughed at the look thrown his way, “Either way, you will still be saying goodbye to Keiko and everybody, right? Keiko would kill me if she knew that I knew you were going to leave.”

Kurama nodded in affirmative and looked across the street. He’d have to cross it soon. His house was coming up. His home was down more in residential areas and this street reached far down into them. He knew where he was, it was only about a block further north and a few blocks west and he’d be home. Looking up almost longingly at the umbrella he answered, “Yeah, I expect that it’ll be most everyone I’ll miss. I admit, you’ve all grown on me in the years I’ve known you.”

The conversation dwindled from there.

It wasn’t very long before they had reached the end of the block and Kurama darted out from under the Umbrella with a quick farewell. He didn’t want to take Yusuke so far out of his way just so that he could get home dry. Although… being drenched to the bone in a matter of seconds wasn’t a pleasant experience. He’d gotten to used to taking the easy life. A wry twist of his lips came with the thought. He really needed to spend more time out in the Makai. He was getting too soft from this easy life of his.

Kurama broke into a jog as he crossed the street with a small crowd and, before long, he was making his way up the walkway in front of his home. After greeting his mother, he was surprised to find her handing him a letter. He hadn’t been expecting one, at least, not a letter that his mother wouldn’t have burned at first sight.

His fan-girls were getting a little too forward. It was irksome.

After thanking her with a smile he wandered up the blue carpeted stairs and to his room, examining the letter speculatively. It was like a simple letter, though the paper was quite a bit thicker than norm. The green ink was unusual as well. It was addressed to ‘Minamino Shuichi’ and his address was scripted neatly on the envelope underneath.

He didn’t sense anything unusual about the letter. He had gotten into the habit of scanning things for spells when he began to find out about how many wizarding things were hidden right underneath his nose. The reiki used was so subtle, it would even be considered weak, but it sure got the job done. He worked his fingers up under the lip of the envelope and easily tore it open with a satisfying ripping noise.

He stretched out on top of his bed in a manner much like that of a cat, or in his case, lazy fox, and absently toed off his socks while he opened the letter. His brows furrowed slightly in a pensive look while he read the letter and he fiddled with his hair.

Heh. A welcome letter… He shook his head slightly, and pulled the cord on his lamp, turning it on. Stripping down to his boxers he called ‘Oyasumi nasai’ down the hall, flipped off all the lights, and moved the letter off his pillow and onto his nightstand as he climbed in.

He hadn’t expected a letter of welcome.

‘Dear Mr. Shuichi Minamino

‘I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress. I would like to welcome you to our home, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...’

Fall Through-Chapter 1

2007-05-14T13:46:59Z

Hmm... I forgot to visit again, didn't I?

Anyway...

Title: Fall Through
Genre: Drama, Romance
Category: YuYuHakusho/Harry Potter
Summary: Have you ever wondered how Harry survived the Killing Curse? He didn't.
KuronuexKurama or if you'd rather consider it, HarryxKurama, seeing as Harry IS Kuronue. Shounen ai.

Harry Potter did not like Number 4 Privet Drive. He hated it; he found it completely and utterly insufferable in fact. It wasn’t the weather and it wasn’t what it looked like that bothered him so much. It was the people, pure and simple. He loathed the people in the ‘neat’ and ‘orderly’ town, the ‘nice’ and ‘upstanding’ citizens. He hated the secrets the little clean town in Surry held. From the outside it seemed almost… picturesque.

There was nothing that ever seen out of place. No body ever noticed the kid who was being picked on, the wife with the cheating husband, the bully, nothing. They lived in their own dream world.

Vibrant Killing Curse green eyes peered out an iron bar covered window with an indistinguishable emotion in their depths. Some days he couldn’t believe he put up with all the people in their pretty little houses and blindness. Everyone was blind. The thought on the matter had been coming to him, even when he had been a young child. That is, if he had ever been a child in the first place. He couldn’t help it, people seemed so blind to him, and he doubted that belief would ever change. No matter how ‘observant’ the person, they had never noticed.

It was sometimes so frustrating… Their weak blindness, and refusal, to see what was right in front of their faces was something he really hated about humans. He frowned; these humans were a particularly vexing group.

Harry adjusted his bent glasses and sorely wished he could lash out with no long lasting consequences for his actions. His lips twisted in a faint mockery of a sneer. He had no energy to pull it off. Not considering the circumstances.

When would he get out? Harry counted the days till school started again. He would rather sit and spend the whole school year in any of Snape’s potion classes than stay with his so called ‘family’.

They had found a way through the threats. The order hadn’t been specific enough with their demands and orders. The damned Dursley’s still found a way to ‘punish’ him.

He was getting tired of playing nice and just taking it.

He rested his head against the window pane in a fruitless search for relief from the pounding in his head. His act was starting to wear down… He couldn’t take this much longer.

…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…

Harry had been staring at the wall with a listless expression since he had woken up that morning. He only had his memories for company, though the thought that he would only have a few more days in his own personal hell helped his mood a bit. He would get through it. He knew it and wouldn’t allow otherwise. “I have all the luck don’t I?” he murmured almost imperceptibly.

He moved, sitting up with a bit of effort and he smirked at how difficult it was. The rules his family had to follow were actually pretty simple. No physical harm, though Harry guessed that the Order never thought of his mental health, no excessive work, and he had to be fed. They had also been advised to leave him alone in an effort to give him time to grieve. His smirk twisted to a frown and he almost felt like laughing at the irony. Almost. The Order was supposed to help him, not sign his death warrant. He hadn’t left his room since summer had started and it was finally taking his toll and, although he had been being fed, it was always the same non-nutritional substance every day. Malnutrition wasn’t a fun thing.

Harry supposed he was lucky in a way. If he hadn’t been so special he probably would have been dead.

Sometimes he really wished he had never died.

“Boy!” the sharp bark caught Harry’s attention faster than any other noise could ever hope to and the door swung in on its less than well oiled hinges. Green eyes darted to the door way and his body shifted slightly when the expression on his uncles face came to view.

“Get your self presentable!” Vernon’s bulky form stood in the doorway and the man had an expression of hatred on his face. The light filtered through behind him and into the dark room, illuminating Harry’s weak form on the bed. It was in situations like these that Harry liked to amuse himself with thoughts on how the man could fit through his small doorway. Magic was a common thought, as was science-fictional twists. As it was, the thoughts he could twist and invent kept him forcefully preoccupied.

Harry forcefully kept his attention on his thoughts and fought not to recoil at the man’s presence.

“What are you doing, Boy?!” Vernon took a threatening step into the dark room.

“Move it!” and Harry moved, a dark scowl on his face and a flicker of purple in his eyes…

…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…

Kurama was playing hide and seek. Or rather, that was what how he politely put the not so rare phenomenon he was experiencing. From his outlook in his tree he vaguely wondered how the girls at his school would take it if they knew he was gay. He winced as a hoard of girls passed below. It would just give them more ammo.

He didn’t bother looking up when Hiei joined him in his perch. He knew the fire apparition knew he knew he was there. He also knew that what ever it happened to be, was probably important. The Hi-youkai rarely visited him any more, not since Yusuke had become the King. Hiei usually spent his time with Mukuro.

“You have a mission.” Hiei was straight to the point, as always.

Kurama’s somber leaf green eyes lifted off the ground to meet Hiei’s blood red pair just in time for him to catch a black tape that was thrown his way. “Thank you Hiei, will you be staying a while?” his tone was polite, as always and he spared Hiei an inquiring glance.

The answer was a short “No.” before the fire apparition flickered away at his high speed leaving Kurama standing alone again on his now swaying branch.

The branch hadn’t even stopped its mild swaying when a, “There he is!” from a single girl’s shout caught everyone’s attention. Kurama paled drastically. Oh, Inari-sama… His face swung in the girl’s direction to see her grinning malevolently. Inari-sama! It was her. Before he could think of what he was doing he was out of the tree and running. Instincts were really a wonderful thing to boast.

With the tape held securely in his hand and the bag over his shoulder he made quite a sight, darting between trees and out of the park with a gaggle of girls being left in his dust. He only slowed down once the park was far out of sight and the screams of ‘Shuichi-kun’ faded into the sound of the cars passing him by. It never hurt to be careful, especially when being stalked by such a rabid group.

Kurama made his way through the crowd, focusing on the tape in hand. He was almost the only one still in active service of the old group. Kuwabara only attended when Yusuke did, Yusuke was learning about his heritage in the Makai, and Hiei was always around Mukuro. He smirked slightly at the thought of Hiei and Mukuro. He had a feeling that there was more than one reason to why Hiei was always there.

In no time at all Kurama was entering his home. He opened the front door and called out “Tadaima!” to his mother, smiling when he received an answer he headed up the staircase to his room, greeting his younger step-brother when he passed the occupied room. Upon entering his room he set his bag down in a corner next to his desk and put the tape in his VCR.

Koenma popped up on screen, his pacifier muffling his speech. “Kurama, I have a mission for you.” The recording started to look a little nervous. “I know you won’t like this, and I am sorry!” Kurama’s eyebrow raised and he frowned when Koenma started chewing on his pacifier and wringing his hands in stress. “I have just received notice from my branch over in Europe.” Kurama was starting to get a bad feeling about this.

The recording took a deep breath and mumbled about firing the people in charge over in Europe. Koenma seemed to steel himself. “A soul that was assigned to be brought in at all costs never was.” Kurama nodded slightly and his interest spiked. “You are going to be going to England in a week,” Kurama winced at that, how would he tell his mother? “To attend a Magical Boarding School. Your books will arrive tomorrow. I have already taken the liberty of sending one of my operatives in Japan’s local Magic school an order on getting you some Transference Papers and another operative will be getting you up to date on what you need to know. He has a time turner; you will understand when he comes to get you.”

Kurama frowned when Koenma continued on to speak of how long he should expect the mission to take, and he outright scowled when he added on that he would be expected to spend an extra year or two on the mission if he didn’t retrieve the soul in his first year. His hands clenched into fists when the tape ended and he stood up quickly, fully intending on giving Koenma a piece of his mind on the matter of the mission. He couldn’t believe that Koenma expected him to leave his mother till he was sixteen or seventeen. It was an outrageous order, surely Koenma had other operatives who could fill the order, didn’t he?”

His heart was thundering in his ears and he got up quickly, leaving his bag on the floor and the tape in the VCR. Swinging around, he almost ran out his bedroom door and almost jumped down the stairs, taking them two at a time. In his haste he nearly tripped over the umbrella stand next to the door. A furious scowl settled on his face and he threw the stand out of the way and jumped into his shoes.

“Shuichi?” his mother’s voice made him pause, “Shuichi? Where are you going? Dinners almost done.” Kurama turned to see his mother come into the hallway.

Pausing another moment to gather himself, Kurama smiled at his mother, “I am sorry, I have to go meet someone… I forgot. I will be home soon.” He smiled again and quickly left the house, leaving his smile and a worried mother behind.

He was going to kill Koenma!

Several blocks, one portal, and a long series of twisting halls later Kurama was standing outside Koenma’s door. “KOENMA.” He was quite pleased to hear an ‘eep’ from inside.

Throwing the doors open he entered with a purposely intimidating flare, reveling in Koenma’s cowered form. “Ko-en-ma.”

“I’m SORRY!! Very sorry! Insanely Sorry! SORRY!! You are the only person who could do it!” Koenma seemed to be shielding his head from any possible incoming blows.

“Why me? You have other professionals for infiltration and confiscation. Don’t you?” He crossed his arms. He was not at all pleased but his tone was level. Had he had his ears out, they would have been laying flat back in irritation and anger.

The demi-god looked up searchingly. Realizing that he was no longer in danger he straightened his shirt and took a deep calming breath. “You are the only one with the right age and we need someone with mental shields.” He crossed his arms and climbed into his swivel chair. “A lot of my operatives do not have mental shields, and the ones who do are obviously too old. We need someone who is a student.”

He reached forward and pulled two files off the corner of his large desk. He looked at them with a frown before holding them out for Kurama to take. “These are the files of Tom Marvolio Riddle and Harry James Potter. Riddle is your target, although Potter should have been taken in as well. No body in the England sector is sure why Potter didn’t die, but Riddle did. Riddle has been doubling the death rate of the citizens in Europe. Scotland and Great Britain have been hit the worst.”

“What is he trying to do?” he took the files out of Koenma’s hands and flipped open the one on Riddle.

“The ones who investigated the problem say he is trying to wipe out any ‘muggles’ and non-‘purebloods’ in their magical community. He seems to be killing off any ‘purebloods’ that defy him as well.” Koenma was pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to fight off a migraine.

Kurama sighed and shifted his weight, “What is a ‘muggle’, exactly?” He tangled his fingers into his hair. And why did he have to deal with it? He wanted to ask, despite the fact that he had already received an answer.

“A ‘muggle’ is a person who only has enough Reiki to live. They call it ‘Magic’. We have schools here in Japan that teaches ‘Magic’ and people like Yusuke and Kuwabara would be the people who attend.” He leaned back and looked Kurama full on, “I know. Why didn’t Yusuke, or Kuwabara, attend the schools?”

Kurama nodded and began looking through the papers in the file.

“At the time of enrollment, Yusuke had very little Reiki and Kuwabara only had his ‘awareness’. They would have both been classified as ‘squibs’ by the community. Before you ask, a ‘squib’ is a person who is born to parents who have high amounts Reiki while the child has only enough to live--like a ‘muggle’.”

There was a bout of silence and Kurama looked up, “And that is why Riddle is killing them off? Just because they don’t have much Reiki?”

“It’s something like that, though they have no concept of Reiki. The reason he uses is that they are different and would wipe out the ‘Magical’ community if they ‘interbred’. He thinks it ‘weakens’ them.”

Kurama looked down at the moving pictures in his hands. One file, the one he currently held open, had several pictures of a man, and although it was the same person in all of them, the photos looked very different. There were a few from childhood and a few from his school years and after his graduation. The most recent one was of a snake-like man with blood red slit eyes and no nose or body hair. Tucking the folder and photographs under his arm, he started looking into the other.

There were a few pictures of Harry as a baby, always being held by an adult, followed by some photos from while he was growing up. He may have frowned when he saw the too thin frame and over large clothes, but he out right scowled when he saw little snippets of bruises. The most recent was taken during school hours, a photograph of Harry sitting under a tree with his friends studying for the OWLs. It was such a normal scene, so completely and utterly un-posed, that he couldn’t suppress the faint smile tugging at his lips. The boy just looked way too cute!

“Riddle, or ‘Voldemort’ as he calls himself when he’s commanding his ‘Death Eaters’, has been targeting that boy for several years. Harry Potter is the unfortunate victim of several plots. He has miraculously survived them all.” He tapped his fingers on his chin before continuing, “In a fist to fist fight with a C- Class demon a ‘Witch’ or ‘Wizard’ would loose terribly, but their Reiki, when used like they have trained themselves to do, they could put up a fair fight and probably win. They are no whereas near as strong as Yusuke is, but their ‘Magic’ is both flexible and powerful. They can be dangerous. Harry there though…” Koenma gnawed on his pacifier a bit more violently, “His power is that of a B class demon… Maybe even a high B+ class demon. He is unusually powerful for a ‘Wizard’ though it has been known to happen; it is usually in ‘Wizards’ twice his age. The scale goes between a low C class and a mid B class.”

Kurama nodded, making a mental note on that, “What would ‘Voldemort’ be?” He didn’t have a good feeling on the matter.

“I believe he is somewhere around a mid A class, maybe even a little higher. He is a very dangerous man, I would advise you to be careful in your retrieval of him.” He paused a moment, seemingly considering something, “You would have learned this tomorrow, but a ‘Witch’ or “Wizard’ has a very flexible ability with their Reiki. They can do almost anything with the right word or the right sequence of words. And by anything, I mean, they can do something as seemingly harmless as making another person laugh or changing their hair color, to doing something as dangerous as creating insanity inducing pain and instant death. Not all ‘Spells’ can be blocked, so study hard and dodge the ones you know you can’t block.”

Kurama closed the second folder, of which its contents he had been examining the majority of the time Koenma had been speaking. Tucking them both under his arm he nodded at the demi-god. “Tomorrow, it is. Sayonara.” He turned away and left the room quietly, leaving a very relieved deity behind.

Demon of Ice, Angel of Fire

2006-12-22T19:54:08Z

Repost of chapter one of my DNAngel Fic, "Demon of Ice, Angel of Fire" here. I accidentally doubled the original length though. And I was irked and pleased to find that I have gotten better at writing. Yes. Irked and pleased.

Title: Demon of Ice, Angel of Fire
Genre: Action/Adventure, Romance
Category: DNAngel
Summary: The gates of Heaven have been locked for many years. Nine-hundred to be exact, and Daisuke has been sent down to Earth. His mission? To find the Seven Keys. On Earth he encounters a young Vampire by the name of 'Satoshi'. Now... Just why did he become a Vampire in the first place? And what is with the Ledgend of The Ice and Fire Angels?

This story takes place about nine-hundred and fifty years after cannon, but beware... A lot can change in nearly a thousand years...

Chapter One: The “Creature”

The sun carefully arranged itself on the horizon, sending violent bursts of colors, oranges, reds, pinks, purples, and blues, across the sky. The end result was a beautiful painting in a vibrant splash of color, the sunset. A beautiful view that all too few appreciated.

He was lucky, so very lucky, as he was the only Vampire that could even catch a glimpse of its glory… A sharp gust of wind blew the shaggy cobalt hair, revealing a pale but healthy face whose lips were stretched in an unusual and rarely seen smile. None of the others knew of the beautiful images he was blessed with.

He sat there, carefully and critically imprinting the colorful scene into his mind for a later painting. Maybe, just maybe he would show it to someone… Nezumi might appreciate the work. His smile faded. He’d forgotten. Judgment had been passed on the boy… No body would even want to come back after Judgment; Heaven was a far better place than Earth.

He absently wondered what Heaven would be like when, or even if, he ever got to go. He had no idea what he had done in his life to become a Demon but he was one, and unfortunately, that seemed to be what counts. It depressed him a little, not that it showed on his face. No Demon could remember their human lives, though that sometimes changed after Judgment was passed. He tucked a few strands of hair behind one pointed ear and shifted slightly on the rock on which he sat. The sun had just dipped below the horizon; it was going to officially be the time of the demons in a short while.

A sharp white momentary flash at the lower edges of his vision caught his attention for the 20th time that evening. Yes, he had been counting. Oddly enough, it came from a pendant that hung on a thick gold chain. He wasn’t sure why it had started flashing; it had only started earlier that day. He fought the urge to snort. Specifically, it had started flashing 20 hours previous. A slightly pensive look came to his ordinarily stoic face, as he examined his prize possession. A quiet, almost inaudible chuckle escaped his lips, it was strange, that such a little thing could protect him the way it did.

Satoshi Hikari wasn’t really much like all the other Vampires; he didn’t have the pitch black hair of his kind, the one-tone maroon eyes, the waxy skin, the excitable personality… He was considered very unusual, even for demons in general. He had sparkling ocean blue eyes, like ice and with hair to match. He was cold, distant, pretty much having the personality of a rock, most would say. He scowled slightly, his fangs peeking out from his lips slightly, a pearly white. In fact, if it weren’t for his fangs and ears, most would not realize what his race happened to be. His eyes were too full of life and lacking malice, no matter how anti-emotional he was.

Satoshi openly scowled for a second and pinched the bridge of his nose as he heard the familiar squeaking voice and fluttering wings of one of his father’s messengers a hour and half later. He was annoyed, that much was clear. He really didn’t like any of his father’s messengers. It wasn’t anything against the Demons themselves; it was just the fact that his father had sent them. Don Hikari wasn’t anywhere’s near his ‘accepted peoples’ list. He actually managed to be one of the few on his ‘insufferable people’ list.

“Satoshi-sama!” the creature squeaked, his minute bat-like wings battling furiously against gravity as he landed with a plop on his shoulder. His repellent yellowed eyes flicked around apprehensively while his whip-like tail snapped back and forth like the whip it resembled. His cerulean scaled, black clawed feet and hands dug into the Vampire’s shirt.

He really didn’t like them. “Yes?” he inquired shortly, tensing slightly and fighting the tempting urge to swat it away. He’d been having a grand time watching the stars, thank you very much! He had no need, nor want, of a distraction in this form.

The creature seemed to sense his barely aborted intentions and froze, shaking slightly in fear. He’d had Satoshi swat him away before. It was most definitely not one of his more pleasurable experiences. He hadn’t been able to move for a week! probing desperately for any semblance of courage in his self, the miniature Demon began to relay his message, “Master sent me out to bring to your attention an important matter!” his voice was squeaking somewhat comically as it desperately tried to stay balanced and still on his shoulder.

“Of course,” Satoshi spat, not at all pleased, “What else would you be there for?” he turned his head slightly in curiosity, unable to see the small Demon past his longish dark blue hair. Don Hikari never sent anyone to him for any other matter. He felt a fleeting flicker of amusement, well… there was the one time that they had a masquerade ball… The Demon who was sent had just barely lived to regret actually showing up to deliver the message.

“Yes sir!” he nodded violently, trying to be agreeable. “The mission is to destroy an unknown creature that threatens our society!” The little creature nearly lost his balance on the shoulder as he continued nodding vigorously. He couldn’t help but yelp as he was grabbed unceremoniously in Satoshi’s hands and deposited on said Vampires knee.

Satoshi’s neck hurt, a lot, trying to look over his shoulder for a prolonged period of time wasn’t easy on anyone’s neck, Demon, Angel, or Humans! He was irritated at the Demon’s slow pace and rattled off quick questions to be answered, “Name, age, and appearance?” He paused a moment and was rewarded with a stretch of silence, “Well? Hurry up! How will I know him?” A bored expression never left his face but his eyes broadcasted his irritation.

The little Demon huffed, managing to dig up courage at his lack of punishment and spoke angrily, “Name: Daisuke Niwa. Age: unknown. Estimated age is between three thousand to six thousand-”

Satoshi couldn’t help his startled exclamation as his head jerked upward and darted towards the creatures place. His exclamation came out in the most unbecoming squeak that had ever passed his soft red lips. He knew that Angels could easily hit that range, seeing as they could live forever, but he had never heard of any other creature that could manage to live that long! That is, of course, if he didn’t include the Demon King or a few of the higher Nobles. Satoshi himself was only hitting his eight-hundred and seventy-fifth year as a Demon that year!

“-years old, red eyes, red hair,” he ignored Satoshi’s uncharacteristic exclamation outwardly, whilst cackling madly inside. He was almost high on the fact that he got a reaction of this sort out of the normally unflappable Satoshi Hikari. He’d be the only one in the Castle! “He appears to be slightly younger than you. His estimated height is to be 5’4’’…”

“Short…” two shoulders dropped slightly in a minuscule motion. He seldom received missions anymore… So this anomaly was viewed as an atypical event by the Vampire in question. He had been trying to accumulate a mental image that he could base his target from, in order to find his objective with the least amount of hassle. The height measure had completely ruined what ideas he had taken from there.

“His looks are deceivingly innocent,” the mini-demon recited steadily. Yes, any illustration Satoshi had attempted to construct had been decimated beyond repair. He was beginning to get quite inquisitive as to why the creature was a threat and what he looked like… A slight furrowing of blue brows was hardly noticeable but it was there. He was getting a nagging feeling about this… He just couldn’t figure over what it must be.

The mini-devil finished doling out all the information it had quickly. He didn’t want to reside in the Vampire’s presence for much longer. It wore on his senses and was a hazard to his health. He took to flight, fleeing with slightly more violent wing-beatings than were really quite necessary.

“Innocent…” Satoshi smiled slightly in remembrance of a far off memory and watched the small messenger leave before standing up gracefully, removing his cloak in that motion. Bat-like wings soon twisted into existence on his shoulder blades, seemingly out of the shadows nearby. After carefully resettling his cloak between his wings and shifting his sword into a position for better access he lifted off the ground with strong beats.

A feral grin split his face and two feet left the ground with a fierce push and the sound of large heavy wings.

The hunt was on.

The young looking man strode forward quickly, his blue hair swaying in tune with each solid step, “He should be about here…” he muttered inarticulately in his low tone. Satoshi Hikari had been on his oh-so-irritating expedition for about a week—much longer than he usually took to find his prey. He found that his target was quite the slippery one, but, unfortunately for this ‘Daisuke Niwa’ he’d never failed a mission. All his leads had lead up to this point. So, he should have been able to spot the creature.

Satoshi was in a fairly paltry town. He felt like he had stepped back in time hundreds of years, despite how utterly impossible it was to do so. His expedition had him feeling like gone over the town with a fine-toothed comb many, many, times, and he was quite ready for a break. It didn’t take much for him to locate a series of signs directing him to a small, yet peaceful, park. Satoshi had pretty much memorized the town. He found he quite liked it.

He sighed irritably, sitting down on a bench made mutually of steel and wood. No matter how much he liked the town, he didn’t like the circumstances that brought him to its residence. Where was that little thing he was supposed to find? Satoshi was frustrated and he had found himself wishing for a picture of the being he was looking for time and time again. He didn’t even know if it had humanoid form! He could be looking for a demonic squirrel for all he knew!

He sat there, his irritation quickly fading, watching a few children play in the Eden like green grass while their parents spoke nearby, their loving and attentive eyes on their young. The calming zephyr fluffed his disobedient blue locks around his face as he watched his seventh sunset since he had begun his search. A soft sigh escaped his lips and he folded his arms behind his head and reclined in a lazy fashion. The time-of-demons was quickly approaching and he wasn’t anticipating it in the least. A ghostly memory of sparkling red eyes and feathers came and was pulled away on the winds. He missed them. The Angels, you see. His memories were so faded. He knew he’d known Angels, for you see, he had paintings of them. He didn’t remember who of or when he had done them but he knew he had. The paintings were so damaged…

He was taken by surprise, although he didn’t show it, by a harsh yell coming from nearby. It was nothing like the giddy and happy shrieks the children were letting out. Unhooking his ankle from his knee he turned his head towards the source of the sound in an uninterested fashion. A large explosion sounded soon and his jaw dropped slightly, feeling taken aback. He knew he’d find his target eventually, he even expected it to run away, but he never expected to see his target running his way!

With a plan promptly forming in his mind, Satoshi leisurely climbed to his feet with vaguely narrowed eyes as he watched the boy draw closer. He suspected that this scheme he was devising would be very easy to put into motion.

As it was, it only took the Vampire a few forward steps before the collision was unavoidable. Just as expected, the smaller boy hadn’t seen him until it was too late. A soft body violently collided with Satoshi’s form with audible noise. Immediately after the boy ran into Satoshi’s unyielding body the Vampire snared the boys left arm in his rigid, steel-like grip, his fingers tight enough to bruise. To any casual observer—though there were none—as the families had hurriedly left, he was just attempting to help the boy keep from falling flat on his cute little face.

Primary red eyes looked up at his capturer, showing a bit of confusion in their depths. “E-e-excuse me!” Daisuke stuttered, beginning to look quite flustered for some reason Satoshi could not comprehend. A blush was alighting on his almost cherubic face like a stop-light. This had to be Daisuke Niwa. Satoshi viciously batted away any straying thoughts, preferring to, and failing to, focus on thoughts on what he could be… He didn’t look very dangerous…

While Satoshi was seemingly staring half dumbly at Daisuke, Daisuke was trying in vain to pull away and dodge around his side. Unfortunately, for the smaller boy, he was brought to an abrupt and sharp stop as he felt his arm start to bend in a way it really shouldn’t. He looked back pleadingly into Satoshi’s blue eyes.

“What’s wrong?” the Vampire asked quietly, his grip taut on the now panicking boys arm. Crimson eyes locked with icy blue for a short period of time before tearing away quickly and looking over his shoulder. The struggling increased and a very surprised Satoshi was nearly thrown off balance by their intensity.

“D-Demons!” the boy answered, he was still stuttering ever so slightly, “It is coming!” The boy’s attention kept flicking between Satoshi and the unknown Demon rapidly. Satoshi began to feel vaguely confused at the behavior. If he didn’t know better, he would have sworn that the boy was a through and through human… Satoshi was apprehensive for a moment suddenly wondering if he had the wrong person.

No, it wasn’t possible. He fit all too perfectly within the descriptions limitations.

Satoshi opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the abrupt arrival of a misshapen creature that brutally burst out of the undergrowth from the same route Daisuke had come. He a slight furrowing of Satoshi’s brows of his brows and more tugging from Daisuke was all the reaction that the thing received.

Satoshi wasn’t quite sure what kind of Demon the creature was but it repulsed him all the same. Suffice to say, it wasn’t anywhere near attractive. The creature seemed to have the mangled attributes of some type of reptile and a panther. The maw was significantly under bitten, the overly large canines hanging far past its lower jaw. Corded and bulky muscles created an over balanced form only kept on its four feet by low riding wings and a long thick tail, and the patchy black fur was of varying lengths smattered randomly with acidic green scales.

Satoshi breathed out quietly and let the pale arm go momentarily, taking a wicked katana out of the folds of his cloak, where it was discretely hidden. His cold eyes just dared it to come any closer, promising a swift death, whether painful or painless was undetermined. He had to admit it to himself, he was curious at why Daisuke could be such a threat to his populous. Especially if he could seem to feel so threatened by such a weak, little, and stupid demon! Okay, so it wasn’t little, but it would be no harder to kill than a normal animal, for him at least, and it wouldn’t have near the intelligence.

Yellow catlike eyes focused on the two and they rolled in a fashion quite reminiscent of a bull’s while in an arena. The creatures head tossed and it made a few ungraceful heavy steps before a roar of animalistic fury escaped the creature’s maw in a shrieking rush, as it threw itself towards Satoshi’s bare throat. The jagged claws tore into the ground viciously, tossing turf into the air.

Unexpectedly, there was quite the answering cry from Daisuke, though of a vastly different type as he shouted, “Watch out!” and shoved the Vampire out of the way with an unusually strong push. Satoshi soon found himself sprawled on the soft grass, his katana several feet away and the boy as equally sprawled as himself, though on him rather than the ground.

Daisuke tried to assess the damage while the creature tried to turn its body around for a duplicate attack. Unfortunately, for the attacking Demon, the only damage left behind from the assault was a nasty tear in the russet colored shirt the smaller boy was wearing. Satoshi frowned slightly at the sight of a glint of metal below the russet shirt but the boy was moving too much for him to get a solid look in. He had a feeling that it was important but he couldn’t, for his soul, remember why!

Daisuke only hesitated long enough ensure that Satoshi had no damage before he bolted, he was quickly leaving the fine, although sprawled form, on the ground in his wake. Red hair disappeared quickly from the Vampires line of sight, where he was still lying, for once feeling rather surprised.

He really didn’t understand what had happened. Nobody should have been strong enough to knock him over, he realized. He hadn’t thought of it in a while… Shaking his head quickly Satoshi unhurriedly climbed to his feet and ran after the unusual boy and the misshapen Demon.

The nagging feeling was back.

Satoshi was quite surprised to find the Demon but not the boy. Though, he mused silently, he should probably been more surprised by the fact that the rapidly decaying corpse was torn and mangled into bits and shreds, rather than having been focusing on the fact that he couldn’t see the boy anywhere near. A leather booted foot kicked the skull across the grass as he watched its brisk decaying until it was no more than a fine dust that was swiftly whisked away on the wind.

He idly wondered how it had come to its demise but dismissed the thought. A soft, yet irritated sigh escaped two red lips who twisted slightly in a frown. This was getting him no where! He felt his wings warp into existence on his shoulder blades and flipped his cape between them, preparing for takeoff. He could feel his sword against his spine amidst the heavy folds of his cloak.

“Oh…” came the so articulate word, causing Satoshi to spin around, startled, and mind you, he was rarely startled. Though he felt this might soon become a trend. “So you are a Demon?” the tone was light but there was something hidden underneath it that Satoshi couldn’t comprehend. “Strange, I thought I would have known…” it was Daisuke, a soft frown marring his features and a focused expression in his eyes. His soft eyelashes fell on his cheeks and he raised his hands to his face shaking his head slightly.

Daisuke was perched atop a brick wall, a puzzled expression appearing one his, by Satoshi’s point of view, cute face. His heels were bouncing off the wall absentmindedly and he was leaning forward slightly. It would have been a painful drop if not for what quickly stole Satoshi’s attention away.

They were wings. Beautiful garnet and ruby tinted wings nothing like Satoshi’s or any other Demons’. It was a known fact that all Demons were incapable of having wings of feather. Long sleek feathers gleamed in the dying light as Daisuke leaned forward a bit more, an inquisitive expression appearing on his cherubic face.

The boy opened his mouth to say something but paused a moment. This moment Satoshi put to use with a simple but very important question, “What are you?” the tone held a bare hint of emotion but that was so faint it was indecipherable. Satoshi had become quite the pro at hiding his emotions early in his Demon-hood and at the moment, his mind was working rapidly and efficiently, though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Really, it was almost laughable! His cloak rustled slightly as he strode forward a few steps, as if to get a better of the anomaly, though he hardly needed it. What was ‘it’, a shape-shifter?

The answer was almost shockingly simple and very nearly rocked the Vampires mind, “An Angel,” came the straightforward reply, whilst the thumping of the boy’s, no Angel’s, heels kicked up a more violent tempo, finally making some fashion of audible noise. “Who are you?”

His shoulders stiffened slightly, catching the Angel’s keen eye, and he replied stoically, “Hikari, Satoshi.” He was desperately trying to block out and ignore the stray thoughts that got through. “And before you ask, I am a Vampire.” His exterior didn’t show his emotions but in reality, he was reeling and screaming in his mind. No matter what effort he put into stopping it. It was unbelievable, an Angel? Here on earth?

Sure, a person would probably think, if there are Demons, why can’t there be Angels? But, unfortunately that wasn’t the problem. An Angel hadn’t been seen on earth in five-hundred years! As shoddy as a Demon’s memory is, Satoshi still vividly remembered seeing the Gates closing. The memory of the frantic Angels on the far side and the Gate and the Demons steadfastly pushing is shut had never left him. He could sharply remember the exhilarated cries of the Demons and the anguished screams from the Angels. He doubted it would ever leave him. It had been a sad day indeed.

The light voice caught wandering attentions, “Really? You are a Vampire? I thought all Vampires looked alike!” his thoughtless exclamation caused a tick in Satoshi’s eyebrow, the Angel, quickly realizing his error blushed brilliantly at what he had just openly implied. “Aah! Gomen nasai! I’m not trying to insult you! I just thought all Vampires were ugly!” Frantic hands clapped over his mouth as if to stifle what had already been said, though it proved to be fruitless.

“So that’s why…” Satoshi’s mind was still following a different track than Daisuke’s was. He was preoccupied and hadn’t yet processed what Angel had said. He gritted his teeth angrily and his lips lifted away in a silent snarl. He understood why his father had sent him out on this mission, claiming the Angel to be a ‘creature’. Had his father let him know that his assassination mission was to kill an Angel, he would never have even considered going! Seriously, they wanted and expected him to kill an Angel before realizing what it was! Satoshi hadn’t allied with the Demons in the war. By God, no, when the Gates were open he had preferred the company of Angels instead, “Deceivingly innocent my foot!” at the time of the war he had yet been too young, for a Demon, to really participate. By God, he wished he had.

He shook his head slightly and brushed a few strands of blue hair out of his eyes… It was due in for another cut, he was thinking. Shaking his head again, he asked, “What are you doing down here?” his inquiry was spoken quietly, as he proceeded in inspecting the Angel before him critically. He wore a loose red robe on a small lithe frame, little pieces of gold dangling off it here and there as clasps and decoration. A hooded cape that seemed to be part of the outfit its self was sitting around his shoulders and slipping off ruby red spikes. He couldn’t help but find it odd. Everything seemed to go along a warm color scheme… Yellow, orange, red…

“I’m finding the Keys!” The Angel’s voice was cheerful but his eyes were a bit weary, probably wondering if he would receive some retaliation from his earlier, non-processed, comment. “You know,” he winked, “the Keys to the Gates of Heaven!” He grin gained cheer at as the Vampire failed to go along the expected course of action for the situation. He was unperturbed by the fact that he was talking to someone who should have been an enemy. “I’ve already found the first one!” his expression suddenly dampened. “But I—” he sighed dramatically, though there was some real sadness and frustration behind it, “I can’t get it out of its place…”

He Angel shook his head violently before piping up again, “Were you looking for me? You were looking for me, right?” His knuckles turned white as he gripped the wall tighter and his feet finally stilled and very intent expression entered his body language. Satoshi really didn’t see why his answer would be so important.

“Yes,” he spoke brusquely, “Father sent me out to kill you. I don’t think I will though.” He smiled slightly, just a small twitching of his lips. A sudden thought crossed his mind and he didn’t hesitate in speaking it out loud, “Where is the Key?” Satoshi had heard of the Keys, but he never really quite knew where they were hidden after being removed from the Gates. It was a mystery. So far as he knew, the King of that time had skillfully hidden them away never to be found.

A spark suddenly entered and brightened in the ruby eyes, confusing the Demon. Daisuke seemed almost... Giddy about something. “In a cross…” the small body dropped from the lofty height and the garnet wings flared above him, slowing his downfall like a parachute generally would. A feather light thump of rubber soled shoes, the jangle of gold, and the rustle of thin fabric were the only sounds admitted.

“Can you show me where?” he repeated, finally getting to look the several inches down instead of craning his neck up. Maybe he could help… He didn’t think it would hurt to try… He couldn’t help but miss the Angels he had known in his youth.

An eager nod was his reply, although, the hand that caught his came as quite the welcome surprise as a steady warm hand dragged him away and down the sidewalk.

It wouldn’t hurt to try…

...I guess I'll post this incase anyone wishes to see... shrugs I'm bored.

2006-10-25T02:52:16Z

The story: Witness (LOOK at title, it'll tell you what's going on)
Genre: Drama? Undecided as of yet.
Category: DNAngel
Summary: "People much more dangerous than Dark walk the nights. It was supposed to me just another Job. Sure, one he didn't care to go on, but still just a normal job. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."
It should be multi-chaptered. Beware, Prolouge is odd, a bit... 'Abstract' compaired to the rest of the story.

One… two… three…

The guns shot rang clearly through the nights air, a sharp cracking noise against this unusually quiet cold night. The stars were dulled by a low mist that hovered over the land softly and the moon was half full, seeming to glow sadly for what was to come, though, if questioned, an average person would say it was because Phantom Thief Dark had escaped once again.

No one was supposed to see.

No one…

It was supposed to be the perfect crime. No witnesses, no evidence, nothing to tie him to the crime. The killer already had an alias for the night. He would have witnesses saying he had been at a bar over five miles away for the majority of the night, all the way to two o’clock in the morning really.

It was to be perfect, like all before.

He hadn’t counted on the kid. He really had not counted on the kid.

This wasn’t a night a kid should have been out and about, much less one red haired and eyed kid of only fourteen, stalking home soaked trough and through, with his leather outfit sloshing with water. The boy was staring, frozen on spot, only his surprised gasp and the dropping of the stolen artwork, a necklace in this case, gave him away to the killer.

The killer turned, his lavender eves coming to lock on the frozen kid, his eyes came across a peculiar sight. Really, wasn’t it was unusual to see a kid wandering around looking like he had just been dropped in a swimming pool while wearing a leather outfit much too big and provocative to suit him?

If only Emiko hadn’t chosen this night to send him out, the teen would later think, as Kosuke dyed his newly cut hair black, his emerald green contacts sitting at his side on the counter top, waiting to be put in.

It was supposed to be perfect! PERFECT!

If not for the witness…

The answer was simple…

Destroy the problem…

Annihilate.

The lavender eyes glittered with well concealed lunacy as he leveled the gun.

He would just have to kill one more thing wouldn’t he? One more to fifty plus wasn’t that much was it?

He always got the job done—even if it was just killing a witness—in the end.

It was great to be an as of so far untraceable crime overlord wasn’t it?

Too bad the boy had seen… He was just a kid.

A cute one too…

The gunshot rang crystal clear in the secluded nights heavens.

Well, this is an unexpected hello...

2006-07-09T02:14:08Z

I really wasn't planning on making one of these. I've wandered around the site several times for random, unimportant things but, I never once thought of making one of my own... I guess todays the day, ne?

Someday I will rule the world.

battosai_h @ 2008-07-23T16:51:00

battosai_h @ 2008-07-23T16:40:00

Doors (09-23-07)

Memories (07-23-05)

Dreams

Sneak Peek. IWNOT

Fall Through - Chapter 5

Fall Through - Chapter 4

Drabble: Lost in the City

Fall Through-Chapter3

Fall Through-Chapter 2

Fall Through-Chapter 1

Demon of Ice, Angel of Fire

...I guess I'll post this incase anyone wishes to see... *shrugs* I'm bored.

Well, this is an unexpected hello...

...I guess I'll post this incase anyone wishes to see... shrugs I'm bored.