A gentle breeze lifted the silver strands away from Kurama's face as he watched his children playing nosily by the lake. Hiei was with them - guarding them, as he would put it - trying to keep them from drowning each other with their rambunctious rough-housing. Kurama would often hang back to watch them play with their other touchan. It was one of the few times Hiei actually allowed himself to laugh and tussle with them when no one was looking. So the youko's slipping from their sight was nothing to be alarmed about.
The youko sat on the rise of a small hill surrounded by weeping willows. He hugged his knees to his chest and sat in the shade of one ancient willow whose long, wispy branches swayed and undulated as if dancing in the wind. The tree's branches were so thick and numerable that they made a sort of screen, hiding the trunk - and a clever kitsune - from view.
Kurama had been thinking about the times he and Shiori used to go to a favorite Ningen lake for vacations. While he was trying to remember the name of the lake to tell the children, he had a disturbing revelation. He quietly slipped away and went in search of some privacy to sort out the sudden wave of emotion and frustration that struck him. It wasn't so much the name of the lake he couldn't remember that disturbed the fox. Rather, it was the fact that he couldn't remember what Shiori looked like...
It had been several years since Shiori's death, the pain of her sudden passing having long since eased. In all that time, Kurama took it for granted that he'd always remember every aspect of his life as a human, especially details of his beloved kaasan. The kitsune chewed on his lower lip, squeezed his eyes shut, and desperately tried to see Shiori's face. But no matter how hard he tried, the image was blurred at best. He moaned in anger and let himself fall back against the moss that surrounded the willow. Bitter tears filled his eyes and he shut his golden orbs tightly to prevent them from escaping. The moss under his body softened and thickened, cradling the youko's body, recognizing the need to offer comfort. Kurama let out a dejected sigh.
::Why are you crying, kitsune?::
Kurama opened his eyes and glanced around. There was no one under the willow with him. He was sure he heard someone speak to him. He closed his eyes again.
::Why are you crying?:: the voice repeated.
"I'm not crying," Kurama replied, wiping his eyes roughly with a sniffle. "I'm just upset is all."
::All right,:: the voice said, sounding somewhat amused at the stubborn answer. ::Then why are you so upset?::
The voice seemed familiar to the youko, but Kurama couldn't figure if he simply imagined the sound or if there was someone or something within the tree. He decided he might as well answer.
"I'm upset because I can't remember what my kaasan looked like," the fox whispered, looking up into the branches of willow. Sunbeams played with the leaves, and Kurama squinted at the flickering light. He felt his eyes fill again, but this time he chose to let the tears roll down the sides of his face into his mane.
"I'm upset because I can't remember how my kaasan smelled, or how her hands felt when she touched my face," Kurama choked in a whisper. "I want to remember...but I can't."
A sudden gust of wind lifted several of the willow's branches into the air. Kurama shielded his eyes from the brightness of the sun as the branches slowly descended upon him in a rustle of leaves. Tiny buds began to grow and surround the quietly weeping kitsune. One flower, with brilliant fuschia-pink petals, started tickling Kurama under the arm. The youko absent-mindedly swatted at the plant. When it wouldn't stop, he turned to pull the annoying foliage from the ground. He looked down at his side and noticed miniature hydrangea growing underneath his shoulder. Kurama's eyebrows rose in wonder, since he didn't remember conjuring the plants in the first place.
::Did she smell something like this?:: the voice asked. Kurama picked a small bunch of hydrangea, buried his nose deep into the blossoms, and inhaled. A slight smile lifted the corners of his lips.
"H-hai," he nodded to no one. "Hai, she smelled a little this like. I remember now. She always loved hydrangeas." Kurama inhaled the delightful aroma once more and held the flowers to his chest.
::And did her hands feel like this?::
Pussy willows sprouted near the youko's silky tresses, and mingled with the silver until they found their way to the sides of the kitsune's face.
::Close you eyes, fox.:: the voice softly instructed. Kurama closed his eyes.
The downy gray buds caressed the kitsune's damp cheeks and lashes, and wiped away the remaining tears. Kurama smiled and inhaled sharply.
"Hai," he whispered with a sigh. "That's what her hands felt like."
The sounds of his squealing children, splashing noisily, interrupted Kurama's thoughts. He sat up and looked through the screen of branches toward the lake. The kits had succeeded in pulling Hiei into the lake and were now circling him. Hiei didn't look too happy to be there, his arms folded tightly against his chest, up to his waist in water. Kurama chuckled in spite of himself.
::Kurama-kun.::
"Hai," he answered softly, as he wrapped his arms around his knees once again.
::You have to promise me that you'll remember me without tears, ne?::
Kurama frowned sadly, as he watched his children splash their touchan again and again.
"Demo, I...I want to see..."
::Kurama-kun, I know you'll remember me. I have no fear that you'll forget.::
Just at that moment, Hiei decided to dry himself with a blast of ki that sent the children scampering toward the shore, giggling and laughing, as they fell over one another.
::I'm here all the time, musuko. I'm in your children.::
Kurama watched as Hiei stomped through the water to the shore. Four demon children had scattered in different directions, all proclaiming that Hiei couldn't catch them in a million years.
::A little bit of me stayed within Shuuichi. And a little bit of Shuuichi stayed within you. When you look into your children's faces, you'll see me. When you hear your children laugh, you'll hear my voice.::
"Hai, kaasan," Kurama nodded with a smile. "I will."
::Good! Now go. It's time to go join the living.::
A willow branch tapped the kitsune on the shoulder. Kurama slowly rose and brushed the moss from his trousers. He moved a few of the branches apart to see where his family had run off to, when another branch swatted him on the bottom with a sharp sting.
"Ow, itai!" protested the fox, as he rubbed the sore spot near his tail.
::Go on. Shoo! Join my grandchildren and son-in-law before he does something foolish.::
"Hiei? Do something foolish?" the fox asked, incredulously.
::Do you still torture him?:: the voice asked with a mischievous tone.
"Everyday," Kurama teased back.
::He loves you, you know.::
The youko stood just outside the willow branch screen, as a few branches gently brushed against the back of his head.
"I know," Kurama whispered. The kitsune ran his fingers through some of the fine branches of the willow, twirling them around in his hand. "Ai shiteru, kaasan."
::I know.::
The kitsune closed his eyes once more, his nostrils filled with the scent of the hydrangeas, and he smiled. He bent down and picked a few of the flowers along with some of the pussy willows, and then joined his family.
The End
Copyright 1998 Julie Farel
Yu Yu Hakusho is the property of Togushi Yoshihiro, Jump Comics, and Studio Pierrot.
Fall, here in the mid-Atlantic States, is the most beautiful time of year. The riot of colors are a treat for the senses. But it also is a wistful time. My touchan's birthday is during the height of nature's spectacular color display. I wrote this fic because I miss him.