Liebestraum (Kurama X OC)

Chapter 01: A Prima Vista (Or, quite literally, at first sight)

Using his thumb, Kurama gently prodded the wound on his forearm. It was uncomfortable, but he needed to make sure there were no leftover roots from the vines he planted in the gash. His arm jerked, and he hissed in frustration before a small contended smile ran across his mouth.

Today's fight had been unyielding, but no less satisfying. Before meeting Yusuke he wouldn't have bothered with such a tournament. What was it about his friend that affected him so?

Perhaps, Kurama thought as he continued to inspect the wound with Yoki, he proves that a good fight and being a human are not mutually exclusive.

Everything looked clear; no roots remaining. Using his right hand, Kurama fished in his hair to find one of his healing herb seeds, and using his Yoki, willed it into being. As the life burst from the seed, Kurama heard how the leaves uncrinkled, a sound only his attuned ears could hear. Once they were bright and full, Kurama made a fist around the plant, crushing the leaves between the pads of his fingers and his palm. As he squished them, the leaves secreted a cool sticky balm which he gingerly applied to the gaping crevasse of a cut. It was soothing, and Kurama allowed himself to gently sigh in relief.

As he inspected the rest of his body, Kurama felt a mild irritation creep up in his emotions. His old body wouldn't have been captured by such rudimentary tactics, much less been this wounded. He looked down at his fist, opening and closing it slowly around the remaining leaves.

This body, however much it holds me back at times, is a small price to pay for everything I've gained.

Kurama walked over to the dresser by the side of his bed and opened it, pulling out his white tai chi gi and respective pants. The loose fabric would serve to air out his wounds and provide less friction. He always preferred Chinese martial arts gi's to the Japanese style anyway. He stepped into the pants, pulled them up and tied the string so they sat low on his hips. Then as gently as he could, Kurama slid his injured arm through the soft fabric, and brought it to rest on his shoulder. Buttoning was going to be a bit of a challenge, so he only threaded three ties. Kurama gave himself a quick appraisal. His hair, which often got him mistaken for a girl, was an aesthetic choice he kept from his days as a full yokai, and where he liked to hide plant seeds.

Old habits die hard, he mused.

His appearance was pleasing, and that gave him satisfaction. While he may not particularly care what people, especially those his own age thought about him, foxes were vein and Kurama retained his personal grooming standard from days gone by. Far be it from him to appear disheveled in public.

Kurama had slept some after the matches were over, but he needed nourishment to speed the healing process. There was a restaurant in the hotel they were staying at. He lost a lot of blood and was craving iron. He wanted red meat. As he walked out of his room Kurama noticed the hotel suite common room was empty leaving him to assume Hiei was off by himself somewhere while Yusuke and Kuwabara were with the girls they liked. He put his hands into his pockets and allowed himself a small smile.

Romantic love was such an odd concept. In his days as a full yokai he had sexual partners, sure. But they all served specific needs and were used as he saw fit. He hadn't loved anyone until his mother, and that love was different. Romantic love, on the other hand, was not something he'd ever be interested in.

Too complicated. Too burdensome.

Yusuke's attachment to Keiko proved that.

Kurama reached the elevator, stepped on, and pressed the button for the main floor. Normally he would've taken the stairs, but he didn't want to jostle his injuries. When he got off, the lobby was packed with fighters from the tournament. Kurama scrunched his nose. Yokai smell was almost always unpleasant. He could feel bloodlust permeating the lobby as well, though nobody acted on it. Killing in the tournament was fine, but killing outside the ring was strictly forbidden. The tournament backers would lose money if fights occurred without people paying for seats.