Fury was one of the most overwhelming emotions Yomi knew. It was the most powerful drive in the worlds ever, comparable only to the energy of passion. Either one or the other could twist saints into sinners, angels into merciless slayers.

Yomi knew both states. For years he had been immersed in a confusing, dark pool in which Rage and Love mixed, turning his existence into turmoil.

The horned demon had always tried to live on the high wire, balancing himself on the edge of these two impulses. Yet, he could not deny Fury was beautiful. Power and Rage enticed him.

The delicious sounds of the waters of the small ponds and fountains, the birds and the soft rustling of the leaves as the wind touched them filled his ears with a peaceful caress. His quest had come to the end. He had managed to unify the Makai, and Shura was its sole ruler. Now, passing the crown to his clone and son, Yomi imagined there would not be much motivation left in his life. Nonetheless, he had found himself an alluring new puzzle to solve.

The tall, elegant demon walked quietly around the pretty garden, guided by the inner sense sheltered behind his blind eyes. He was heading to the small house which he kept as a dear sanctuary among Gandara's tall, metallic constructions. That was his refuge; his den. It was a jewel of greenery and wood cut into the Makai metropolis.

It had been the first construction he built while starting to erect Gandara. His first palace, from a time when he barely had any subjects and soldiers to rule over. He never thought of demolishing the place. On the contrary, he conserved it dearly. He was thinking on making that traditional but beautiful place his home, and not only a refuge for the Tea Ceremony or meditation. Let his son Shura, the new King, share his chambers with Kinno in the city's buildings. Yomi was much more inclined to stay there, in his own quiet world of darkness, sensations and dreams.

Freed from the burden of politics Yomi could dedicate himself to his own pleasures. And one of his greatest yearnings had always been to see, to investigate, to know... He craved to break the mysteries and find the brilliant gem of truth underneath the hard shell of appearance.

Yomi wanted to know why.

After all, knowledge was power. It was an undeniable universal truth. Mainly in the Makai.

The Retired King still hesitated a little, recalling the unsuspected intensity of that youko called Hikaru. How could fury have altered him so deeply? Yomi could not banish from his memory the impression of that youko entering the city Main Hall. His you-ki blazoning in fury, his unbelievably long hair flowing like a mantle behind him... His blue eyes, flashing in wrath, his power, his strength, his blood stained figure, and the musky foxy scent which sprawled around him...

For that moment that modest gray youko became more breathtaking, more powerful than Kurama himself. And the King knew why; it was the fury; the power; the enraged beauty of his altered emotions which made him so adorable before Yomi's senses.

Now Yomi wanted to discover why. Just that; the reason underlying his decision to challenge and kill Kurama.

Yomi's steps followed the rocky path very softly. He reached the House knowing Hikaru was inside; he could feel his you-ki. Yomi left his slippers at the entrance, right next to the delicate strip sandals he knew belonged to the grey youko. Then, the youkai could not help but touch one of the sandals, sensing the cold leather. Who could imagine that quiet, reserved, apparently ordinary demon had so much power and rage locked inside?

The demon crossed the porch, and pushed the door open, passing into the sanctuary inside. Soon he reached the scantily decorated room.  There was not much inside but the low table, and the cushions around it. And of course, the beautiful youko, sitting quietly on his heels by the table.

Yomi stepped closer, careful not to make a sound. He did not want to disturb that remarkable striped youko.

The tall, horned demon stayed before Hikaru, showing a friendly smile, and yet not knowing much how to start. He had sheltered that demon to attend a request from his son's spouse, the pretty Youko Kinno. They were close friends, but now, after his incident with Kurama, relations were a bit shaken on both sides.

He needed to be sincere to himself. He had agreed to offer refuge to Hikaru mainly because of his morbid curiosity. Yomi was eager to know the details which had turned Kurama and Hikaru into such fierce, and strangely unacquainted enemies.

The rage had turned that fragile, plain striped youko into an arresting beauty. It had been long ago the last time he witnessed one of those enchanting foxy beings driven by wrath, possessed by the ardent entity of Destruction. Yomi had even forgotten how very breathtaking they could be then. An infuriated youko was the essence of sex and desire itself; vibrating, wild, powerful, like a true demonic force of Nature.
 
The striped youko did not make the slightest move. He said nothing. He did not even care to look up at Yomi. Hikaru just watched the tea inside his cup, with very faraway eyes, as if detached from reality.

Yomi sat down on his heels too. The wealthy silk robe he was wearing rustled a bit with his dislocation. And yet, Hikaru did not draw his eyes from the ceramic cup put on the table before him. His only movement was to play in a distracted fashion with the round pieces scattered on a Gomoku board put on the table.  Perceptively, the youkai noticed a bottle of sake, already half-emptied by the side. The youko was obviously drinking the sake, not the tea.

Tea was perhaps too soft to heal the agonies which must lie inside that youko's heart.
 
Yomi had never paid much attention to that friend of his son's consort, but he seemed such a reserved, undisturbed youko. Fortunately, there were two small cups; it was an open invitation for Yomi to join.

Yomi leaned a bit forward, trying to make Hikaru show any sign he had acknowledged his presence. But the youko was still sitting there, unaltered. It was then the King decided he would have to be the first one to speak.

"You have been long here. The tea must be cold."

Although the sovereign could not really see it, he sensed the cold, piercing intensity of the youko's clear blue eyes upon him. The fox demon felt much hurt and resentment. A suffocating hopelessness seemed to cloak him, like a shroud.

Yomi insisted, gently.

"You are trying to foresee your future in the tea leaves, yes?"

It was then the youko lifted his eyes towards Yomi. During the first crucial instant while he stared at the King, his eyes showed nothing but wrath. But Hikaru controlled himself in a split second, offering Yomi a harsh, but complaisant expression.

"Why should I? I have no future."

Yomi's answer to him was quick-witted.

"Then this is the reason why you keep the sake close. Does the spirits bring you consolation?" And as Yomi asked Hikaru that, he could not avoid thinking of his own situation; not long ago it was he who delved into the intoxicating oblivion brought by the Dream Flowers.

The youko blinked his clear blue eyes. Yomi felt something twitch inside him - surprise, bewilderment for the unexpected beauty of those slant, so incredibly oblique and clear blue eyes.  A blue-eyed youko... Who could think of that?

"It brings forgetfulness; it brings warmth. It feels more than appropriate to me."

"I assume Fate has treated you with much inequity then. Nothing else could justify your severe loss of hope."

The youko said nothing. He just finished the sake in his cup with one quick and yet elegant draw.

Yomi insisted; even painful as it felt, he knew that silence was a means of consenting.

"Has Youko Kurama been the source of all your tribulation?"

Hikaru's long eyebrows curved downwards in an angry furrow. He glared at Yomi, unable to disguise his annoyance.

"Why do you care?" the youko retorted, on the defensive.

Yomi did not seem to mind the ill-temperament Hikaru showed him. He was able to understand; Youko Kurama had always such an effect on every one. One would always hate him or love him madly; it was impossible to be indifferent to him.

"I have shared a past with Youko Kurama. That fox destroyed my life. " Yomi paused then to breathe in lengthily. "Nevertheless I managed to rebuild it. If I had allowed my pain to overcome my reason I would still be just a blind beggar on the side of a road."

Hikaru seemed interested.

"Was it hatred that gave you the strength to carry on?"

Yomi gave the blue eyed youko a soft smile.

"No. It was love. I loved Kurama long after my downfall. I dreamed of meeting him again, and starting anew." The Retired King's smile turned bitter then. "A cherished dream which has never come true."

"But then the love of your life is still alive. It is much different from my own experience."

The silence fell between then again. Yomi politely poured more sake for Hikaru, filling his own cup soon after.

"It seems Kurama has built a tragedy out of our lives then. I wonder what might be your story..." The blind demon suggested, bearing a teasing softness in his deep voice.

Hikaru shook his head slightly. He took the cup then, gazing at the clear liquid inside.

"I do not think I will be able to talk it over with anyone. Mainly a demon I am so vaguely acquainted with."

Yomi did not seem affected by Hikaru's resolute denial.

"Strangers make the best confidants. There are no compromises, no judgements, no condemnations..." Yomi sipped the beverage then. "Don't you feel the need for some kind of release?"

"Perhaps..." It was all Hikaru answered back. It was a suspended, still suspicious little word, but Yomi could feel in the aura of that mysterious youko that his argument was starting to cause effect.

"I loved Youko Kurama. It was a love in vain; I was offered nothing in return for my dedication but scorn and dislike." The King stopped then, enjoying the sudden warmth the fiery drink caused inside his chest. The sensation was soothing, deliciously relaxing. "Tell me what part Youko Kurama played in your life, Hikaru."

"It is all past now; it cannot be changed. Let the old skeletons remain in the closet."

"But it is very clear you are incapable of forgetting their existence even for the shortest moment. Let me know why you keep them; your story may become solace for my own torture."

Hikaru faced the former King. He acquiesced then, slowly moving his long-haired head.

"Will you also share your secrets with me?" The youko proposed, timidly.

Yomi laughed softly. Even then, the manly sound echoed in the spacious room.

"Yes, my dear Youko Hikaru. I will." Yomi composed himself them. "Recalling the facts does not bring me so much pain any longer. It happened so long ago... More than one thousand years ago."

The youko said nothing more. He was really a very quiet and reserved demon. Yomi valued such quality. The only noise the King heard apart from the youko's steady but soft breathing was the clinking of some gomoku pieces as Hikaru played with a handful of them.

"Do you play it?" Yomi asked. The King was much used to games such as that. It was an excellent way to show Shura the virtues of patience, tactics and logical deduction. Chess, gomoku, backgammon. He recalled many nights he had spent with his son teaching him the meanders of strategy through those board games.

Hikaru observed the squared board and the small round game pieces. Then he directed very clear eyes to the horned demon.

"Do you?" The youko asked, emphasizing the surprise through the stress of his words.

Yomi assented.

"Don't be startled about it. My blindness is not a limitation any more." Yomi started to collect the small pieces which lay scattered on the table. He picked only the black ones for himself quickly, showing no hesitation, leaving the red ones to an astounded Hikaru. "In a way it is a gift to compensate for the disgrace which fell upon me then."

The demons looked one at the other, keeping the empty board between them.

"I shall order more sake to be brought to us. No one will disturb our little pastime."

Hikaru smiled. It could be a good way to spend one dull afternoon and one lonely evening. Shura and Kinno must be somewhere in those skyscrapers, enjoying their honeymoon, Kurama had been taken back home to lick his wounds. There was actually nothing else to do, no one he would care about...

He could even have some real fun in the end. There he would get the best quality sake, respectable company, a good story to be shared... It was the kind of diversion he enjoyed the most.

"I must warn you I am an excellent player. It can take us hours till we reach the end of the game..."

Yomi smiled also. Even his shut, blind eyes seemed to smile.

"It will be a challenge, then. Good! I am a competent player as well. It will be my pleasure to spend hours sharing leisure with you."

Hikaru blushed at Yomi's words.

"Who shall start then?"

Yomi calmly poured more sake for both of them. The King indicated the board with a slight tilt of his horned head.

"Be my guest, Youko Hikaru."

The striped demon smiled very timidly. Then he placed one red piece in the middle of the Gomoku Board with a determined gesture.
 
 

 To be Continued...