Ikigai (Hiei x OC)

PROLOGUE: KURAMA

Just a note - I'm still working on the Prologue Chapters and will release them as they're ready! 

His reflection in the puddle between uneven bricks unsettled him. This body was too young to be looking so worn. Dark bags underneath his eyes, cheekbones jutting out of a too-thin face... this was taking its toll on him. Every day he left his human mother at home while he went to school was a day spent under a heavy blanket of dread. At what point would he be receiving the call? Would he know it was coming? Or would it take him by surprise?

Worn sneakers splashing uncaringly through shallow puddles, he trudged down the sidewalk with his head hung low, red bangs dangling in front of his eyes. Once a formidable demon, he had been reduced to nothing more than a sad, human husk. The day he'd been born was one of the happiest of his life – looking into his mother's eyes for the very first time is something he'd carry with him for the rest of his existence.

Thousands of years ago, he'd known true love. Passionate love. He thought that would be the pinnacle of his existence, as surely, nothing could have been as strong as that. He'd been proven wrong the moment he jumped into this body as it developed in her womb. The most powerful force in the universe was that of a mother's love.

As a kitsune, he had never known his mother. Much as turtles did in Living World, kitsunes left their young to fight for themselves, willing only the best suited to survive. He'd been hunted since the moment he embarked on this journey of life. Finally, he'd come to know peace. Until her diagnosis arrived.

Sighing as the school came into view, he wondered what he'd been thinking enrolling in the first place. He knew his mother would have agreed to homeschooling him, thus extending the time he was able to spend with her and limiting the effort he'd need to put in to seem like a normal human teenager. Once he'd started, however, he realized he quite liked the experience of belonging to a school, a community.

A group of girls whose names he did not know waved brightly at him, and he lifted his hand in acknowledgement. They giggled, and he imagined telling them that he was not Shuichi, as they knew him, but a four-thousand-year-old fox who preferred the company of men to women. It would be worth a laugh, and he could certainly use one on this rainy, dreary day.

More students greeted him as he made his way down the hallway, grabbed the books from his locker, and took his seat at the front of his first period class. He maintained many acquaintances, though he had no friends. If he spoke too much with any of them, he worried they may realize he did not have the same quick, lazy drawl of a sixteen-year-old, and questions were most unwelcome.

The chances of anyone still chasing him in Demon World were slim. After such a successful disappearance, everyone assumed him dead. His enemies would have moved on, as would his companions. There was nothing left for him there.

His day passed quite quickly, as he did enjoy learning, even at a human primary school. While his knowledge of plant life was extensive, it was interesting to see the details humans had discovered concerning their makeup on a cellular level. Demon World was full of nothing but fighting and brutality, a barbaric land in many ways, compared to this one. Constant wars and the battle for survival did not lend themselves to innovation.

It was during his fifth period, an art class, when the call came. He dropped the pencil onto the sketchpad and ran from the building, all the way to the hospital. The sliding doors parted too slowly, and he squeezed through them sideways.

"Shiori Minamino," he said to the woman at the front desk. "I do not know her room number. I'm her son, Shuichi."

"Hold on a second, honey. I'll find her room for you."

His heart was beating too fast, and his hands were sweating. Trying not to fidget while he waited, he stared straight ahead at the tiled wall.

"Room 516 sweetheart. You can go on up."

No information had been shared with him other than her location. Praying she was not dead, he stepped into the elevator. Each floor took a full hour to pass. When he finally entered her room, his breath caught. A dozen wires connected her to strange machinery, half of which beeped at different rates. Her eyes were closed, and her chest moved too slowly.

"You're her kid, then?" a voice asked from behind him.

A doctor stood in the doorway, clipboard in his hands. He seemed preoccupied with something on it.

"Are you able to tell me what's wrong with her?"

"Why don't you take a seat," he offered, gesturing towards the stiff armchair next to her bed.

He did as he was told, not wanting to delay the news any longer.

"Unfortunately, there does not appear to be anything wrong with her. Other than the fact that she's wasting away, she is perfectly healthy. No trace of cancer, heart disease, stroke... it's a bit of a medical mystery. I'm sorry to say it's not one of the better ones."

Leaning forward, trying to keep his stomach from emptying, Kurama held his head in his hands. So, he'd been right, then. This disease was his doing.

From his first day in her womb, he'd wizened to the toll it took on her fragile human body, to carry around the soul of a powerful demon. He could feel the first wisps of her life force draining, which seemed a small price to pay for his safety, at the time. Those nine months left her in a steady state of decline as he fed off of her life energy.

When he was a child, he realized that he could not bear the responsibility of her death at his hands, and attempted to heal her with a concoction of rare plants. It would have replenished the energy of a demon, but it appeared humans possessed too different a biological makeup. He'd spent the past six years searching Living World for a solution, ironically regressing back into a life of theft and crime.

"What is the prognosis, then?"

"Well, we're not quite sure," the doctor replied, hanging her chart on its hook at the foot of her bed. "It was lucky your neighbor heard her fall. She has some swelling to the brain, nothing that won't subside with time. I just can't explain the deterioration. It's almost as if she's dying of old age."

That wasn't too far from the truth. After the doctor left, Kurama took his hand in hers. It was cold, and the bones protruded more than he remembered. Her soft face was drawn and dull, the skin almost gray.

"I've done this to you," he whispered, a tear falling to the blanket, creating a small, dark stain.

He stayed with her all night, only letting go of her hand when the nurses came in to inspect her, or adjust something. In the dim midnight light, he made a vow. Her life would not be cut short because of his selfishness. There was one last thing, a final strategy, that he'd saved for when the other options ran dry.

As day broke, a fierce streak of orange on the horizon beckoned him from the chair. Placing a delicate kiss on the top of her head, he said goodbye. If his plan failed, or he died trying to complete it, this would be the last time he saw her.

"I love you. I will fix this. Please stay until I'm back," he begged, smoothing the hair his lips had displaced. "Please."