“Let’s Fly as the Bird Do…” Chapter Twenty

8/20/01

By: Hikari

E-mail to: [email protected]

Notes: I’m beginning to hate my work… Don’t mind me, it happens. e_e

Music Theme to chapter: “Adolescent Rush” by Shoujo Kakumei Utena the Movie.

 

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            Do you have any idea how many stairs lead to the gateway of heaven?

 

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            “Shit!” He came jogging down the hall and into the lounge where his group stood together before the entryway of the elevator. The student was huffing jaggedly, and continued to do so the moment he re-filed in line with his friend. The numbers on the elevator slowly descended, and he made use of this time to exchange what he had just witnessed. Tired, he reached up a hand to tug on his friend’s shirt. His friend looked at him oddly, bushy eyebrows knitting together- wondering what on earth was askew.

 

“What?”

 

The boy was still hunched over, his hands clasping onto the round of his kneecaps. Gasping, he said: “He’s here!”

 

“Who?”

 

            “Shuiichi!”

 

Now it all became clear.  “What?!”

 

“Yeah,” the other continued. “I saw him at the reception stand…”

 

 “Damn it!” A loss on the team’s behalf. In secret they had come to the consensus to somehow get the fag out of their league. To do this inconspicuously, they intended a mishap that could only be blamed as Shuiichi’s unreliability. One way or another, the redhead found out and was hot on their tracks to make sure he wasn’t disposed of so effortlessly. He crossed his arms at this insight. The freak was not easy to contend with. “What are we going to do?”

 

            Finally setting himself to stand upright, the student glided his eyes around for anything that could buy them the chance of still succeeding. Doing a full surveillance, brown irises landed upon the sign directing which school was to go to what floor for the regional registrations.

 

“Hm…” The ingenuity he had gave him pleasure. “I’ve got an idea”

 

Feeling about his clothes, his hands discovered the felt-pen he was in search for. When he popped off the cap, he drew a line on his palm to check the ink. Black. Excellent. As he walked toward the posted sign, he smiled. U.H.T- floor number 3. Quickly, and with acute skill, the 3 transformed into an 8. All those years of forging signatures and cheating on math tests paid off at last… “All we gotta do now is screw up the other numbers too… Never mind the other schools- they already know where to go… Besides, it would look kinda weird with one number out of order…”

 

            The other took to his side in approval, but then regarded the floor difference between the bogus number and the real one.

“Don’t you think eight floors is only enough time to stall him?”

 

            “My friend, I do believe you’re right.” He added a one to the eights left.

 

            “Eighteen… You’re one hell of a bastard.”

 

            “Thanks. That’ll keep him out of our hair for good.”

 

*****

 

            Misfortune had become his shadow. Kurama arrived in Kyoto later than he had anticipated for there was a delay on the train he was boarded on. The result of which landed him in the city at around three or four at night, leaving him with only a good three and a half hours of sleep. Naturally, then, he awoke late from the exhaustion of stress and running around Kyoto trying to narrow down which of the hotels the inter-school meet was taking place in. More badly, the commencement of the ritualistic registrations had begun more than two hours past. Finding himself at the reception stand of the hotel, the woman there pointed in the direction of the lobby and to follow the directions posted on the wall by the elevator. Thus Kurama wound up on the eighteenth floor, confused by the fact that there was no hustle of students from his school or any other. He checked the ballroom where the registry officials were to be, but the ballroom lacked the rectangular folding tables supposedly lined up side by side- their surfaces covered with papers, forms, and tank uniforms. By fluke, however, there was a hotel maid mopping the wooden dance floor in the low light.

 

“Excuse me, Ma’m?”

 

            She discontinued in her dip, wash, and stroke routine- leaning against the pole of her piece of equipment while answering him. “Yes?”

 

            “This is the eighteenth floor, right? Well, where’s the registration for U. H. T?”

 

            “Registration?” She was a pretty maid, very young and sweet looking. Her face seemed to pour with emotion even at the most insignificant thing. “Oh, are you looking for the regional running teams?”

 

            “Yes, exactly.”

 

            “Well, I don’t know the details,” the maid admitted- French bun made of intricate braids following the motions of her head. “But the leagues are only occupying floors one through thirteen…”

 

            “What?”

 

            “Mm-hmm… I don’t know which school is designated where, but U.H.T must be on one of those floors…

 

            ‘Someone from school must have seen me…’ Kurama acknowledged- his eyes broadening and brow twisting at the scheme. ‘Eighteen- they changed the numbers!’

 

            “I’m sorry, I wish I could be of more help to you…”

 

            “No-no,” He pardoned, raising his hands to shake them. “ It’s alright. I’ll find them…”

 

            “I hope so… registration ends soon.  If it will aid you, there are two ballrooms to every level of the hotel… Each ballroom should be occupied by one school team…”

 

            “I see…” That alone was more than enough information… So there were twenty-six high schools in the whole hotel… The trick now, was to figure out a fast way to find WHERE he belonged. “…Thank your for telling me…”

 

‘No!’ He screamed mentally, having been hit with panic. ‘Now I have to work out which floor my school is on… Argh! Eighteen… That could have been made from almost ANY number… 1, 10, 7, 2, 3, 13, 12, 9, 6… I have no choice but to check every floor starting from thirteen!’ Back-stepping, he turned on his feet and ran for the elevator again. Upon reaching it, the redhead grimaced as there were too many people using it. And the elevator was an unbelievably slow transport. With so many people on it, the odds of getting to the floors he wanted were against him. ‘This isn’t a good… I don’ t have the time to wait around for other people! Unless…’ Glancing from one end of the hall to the other, he located the door to the staircase, which was plainly avoided for use. In the zone of pressure, the redhead ran for it- pushing the door open with his velocity and sprinting to the rail to view the number of flights. This being a hotel, it didn’t alarm him to any degree that to every level there were two flights. From his perspective, the stairs kept winding around and around in a repetitive square design. Releasing one deep breath, Kurama advanced immediately- keeping one hand on the rail to ensure he won’t snap his neck should the prospect he would accidentally slip and fall through his speed take place.

 

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. TAP. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. TAP. The bottom of his loafers clicked and echoed within the modest precincts. One flight. Stop. Turn. Down the next flight.   For the first few levels, he felt completely fine. After fifteen minutes of zigzagging, however, Kurama felt his equilibrium tilt to one side and then shift to the other in capricious intervals. It was like seasickness. The redhead couldn’t let nausea get the best of him though- he knew that. His perception had to keep count of how many flights he passed in order to prevent missing the thirteenth floor. At this point, Kurama managed to storm down twelve flights… or was it fourteen? Wait; wasn’t the thirteenth floor supposed to be after ten flights of stairs? He stopped, and swung around- leaning against the rail and squinting up.  Glowering, the redhead shrugged to himself and began climbing instead. ‘These people… If only I could throttle one of them!’

           

            After going up two flights, he went through the door at that level and was relieved to learn that he only went over one level instead of two.  On the subject of steps, Kurama didn’t have to make the attempt to count. His feet counted FOR him. Each flight included seventeen steps. The total steps he would have to descend: six hundred and twelve- not including the number of steps he would be repeating. Stair master, my ass. If you want to lose weight- go to a five star hotel.

 

            Heading for the ballrooms, the post on the doors of the first room read: U. H. S. The second one read: Tobayashi H.S.

 

            Disappointed, he turned back for the stairs. ‘I ran up for NOTHING!’

 

            Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. TAP. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. TAP.  If only the steps were at least made of carpet- it was a mistake to wear pointed loafers. He knew he overlooked something when he was packing- what a foolish thing to forget! Rubber shoes!

Kurama would have to pay the price for it now; nevertheless he had more major problems in mind, like finding the listings.

Two flights were cleared, and he thus bursted through the next door and checked the rooms yet again. No. Not on this floor. Kurama had no other alternative than to go back to the stairs and continue progressing down them. Two flights down- floor twelve. Two flights down- floor eleven. Never stop- keep going.

 

            The stairs- the steps- they were endless! Regrettably, the redhead forgot to hold onto the rail by the time he reached the fourth floor. Somewhere in mid-step, the heel of his shoe slipped against the tile, making him reel rearward and slide down the flight with his back. The edges of each step bruised him all along- the sensation of this being one of having tracks embedded into your flesh. Ceasing at length, his body was lying on the level step where the next flight of stairs began and altered in direction.

 

            “…That… Saved me some energy…” Wincing as he stood, Kurama paid no heed to the sores and scratches. Actually, the redhead was thankful he didn’t break anything valuable. ‘Where am I?’ He questioned in thought, praying he didn’t have a mild case of amnesia- it would be a disaster to start from the top again. Without anything else to do, he finished the next flight to make it to the next floor. That was, floor three.

 

            In a flash, his eyes caught the post his schools name. Excited, since the exertion was over, he ran to the room only to be dismayed by packing employees and janitors sweeping up whatever liter was on the dance floor of the ballroom. The tables and chairs were already being put away, and the brown cardboard boxes with regional uniforms were nowhere in sight. A new terror washing over him, Kurama searched desperately for an official. Walking past him was a plump-in-the-belly old man, dressed in a pinstripe suit, and face confined within tight thick-frame glasses.  Kurama hated jumping to conclusions, but now more than ever was the time to just get ANYONE to help.

 

“Matte! I’m sorry I’m very late, but I’m affiliated with U.H.T…”

 

            Coldly, he stopped and turned to him squarely. His movements were apparently influenced by military discipline. “I would have to apologize young man… Listings are over… Everything is already being packed up into the van.”

 

            “No, please wait…” Kurama huffed in dreadful need of air. His scarlet locks were in disarray- some clinging to the skin of his forehead due to perspiration- others latching onto the minute knits of his shirt. Evergreen irises screamed for pity, his face struggling to not crack all together. “I’ve been running around this entire building for the sake of staying on my track team!”

 

            “Well, you should have been more responsible and arrived punctually like everyone else…” The man began to leave for a second time.

 

            “But I wasn’t informed!” The redhead shouted in utmost ardor. “I found out only on Saturday! Please don’t destroy my chance when my own team neglected my presence! I’m a strong athlete! If I were pathetic I would have given up sprinting down the staircase!”

           

            He was about to walk out the door, when he heard that last sentence. “You RAN here through all those flights?”

 

            He nodded- still out of breath.

 

            Suddenly, his face melted by two degrees. Consideration waltz throughout his head. “Mizuki! Take out the folders and get tank sixteen, we have one more…”

 

*****

           

            Originally, the plan was to stay an extra night at the hotel he lodged in, but after everything that had occurred, the very word ‘home’ sounded only too gratifying. The return was something he could not recall clearly. All Kurama knew was that he was on the train, off the train, on the bus, and finally off the bus. The ‘off the bus’ part was the worst as it forced him to get down on his stop and walk the rest of the way to his house. The footfalls that followed one another felt as though he were one of those Indian entertainers who could walk on coal or dance over upright nails and blades. The redhead was nearly compelled to collapse over the front doorstep, but he saved his last bit of energy to forge his key into the lock. Stupid rust- damn stupid rust. Didn’t it know that he was in no emotional of physical condition to put up with it? His hands pushed harder on the key- fingers feverish from the effort.

 

            “Come on!” Kurama pushed harder, banging a little on the hopeless knob. Fortunately for him, someone on the opposite

side granted him the favor of turning the lock. Tumbling inside from the abrupt release, he let out a calmed sigh and blinked at seeing his savior.

 

“Hiei, why are you awake so late?”

 

            The demon put a finger to his lips to tone down his friend. “You’re mother should be asleep by now…” He whispered. “Don’t make her stir…”

 

            “Oh…” Kurama whispered back.

 

            “I couldn’t sleep…” Hiei stated to answer the other’s previous question. The eyes in their wide sockets flew directly to his friend’s shoes- as if in response to a sixth sense. “Hn… they’re ruined…”

 

            “I know… I hope my feet are in better shape…” It appeared to be a pain to lift one foot and afterward the other in order to remove the loafers. They were both met with disbelief at the doorway, for they found that blood had completely saturated into his once untainted white socks. “…It’s from all those stairs… I will go mad if I have to climb up to my bed- I’ll take the couch in the living room… I don’t care…”

 

            Hiei remained silent and accepted this as he would most other wounds. “Here, follow me to the kitchen…”

 

            “What?”

 

            “For once, do what I say…”

 

            That was true. Most of the time, it was the taller that gave directions and advisement for scenarios like this. Realizing the minor detail, the redhead nodded quietly and entered the kitchen. He was about to hit the light switch, when it came to him that that would give away their secret encounter. Of course, they didn’t plan it- it was merely a circumstance of coincidence.

 

            “Sit on the counter.” He ordered. Kurama complied again, although rather bewildered.

 

            In the mean time, his friend bent down for the cupboard bellow the sink- removing a small tub and sponge that was still wrapped in its plastic seal. Turning on the faucet, Hiei filled the tub with warm water slowly and discreetly so as to not make much noise.  Next, he walked to the other side of the kitchen to find a bottle of rubbing alcohol. Then, to the fridge, he took out a half slice of lemon from one of the fruit drawers. As he settled onto the floor beneath Kurama, he poured a cup full of the alcohol into the steaming water and later squeezed a bit of the lemon to rid the smell. Kneeling, he opened the sponge from its bag and soaked it. His hands then raised the sponge from the tub, squeezing it hard to do away with of the excess water. All the while, the redhead watched inquisitively, and took into particular account as to how the little demon was treating his sore feet. With the sponge, he cleaned out the many cuts and burns- wiping away the dried up blood that had crusted his skin.

 

“About Friday…” He started, still concentrating on the nursing at present. “I didn’t mean to make you angry…”

 

            “…Daijoubu…” Kurama replied easily- closing his eyes from having his nerve-endings alleviated of their trauma. Oh, how wonderful it felt to have his feet dipped and massaged with the sponge… and by Hiei too. “I wasn’t very reasonable on my part either…” the redhead confessed- guilt pinching the skin of his heart. “So Let us simply forget it ever happened…”

 

            He dunked the sponge once more and rang it.  “Hn. Agreed.”

 

            With a weak smile, the taller’s eyes shifted into a shape congruous to an upside-down orange wedge. The green of his irises softened as they were glazed over with warmth- pupils suddenly discerning into the other’s night apparel. “This is off topic, but…”

 

            “But?” The saturated sponge was thrown into the tub altogether, the only thing touching Kurama’s feet now being Hiei’s own hands.

 

            “But your pajamas remind me of lemon pastries…” Lemon pastries. Great, great… Sure, the pants and long sleeved shirt were pastel yellow and rimmed with white folds, but a pastry? They say you are what you eat, but can it ever go to the extent that you WEAR what you eat? No, wait… that doesn’t sound appropriate. Could it be possible to wear your flavor? Hm… the question still seemed absurd to Kurama. He grinned- silly thoughtless thoughts. “Did mother take you shopping?”

 

            “Yes, well, she plans to make a rainbow out of me. “ The demon stood to empty the water drum into the basin. “Che’ I prohibit the thought…”

 

            “It was kind of her…” He compromised. “Didn’t you like anything?”

 

            “… I did… However, I had her return it- I decided the garment wasn’t for me…”

 

            “And THIS is?”

 

            Hiei returned the drum into its proper place. He had learned where everything in the house was in less than a day, and that was WITHOUT using his Jagan. Looking up and down himself, the smaller shrugged. “I admit, you caught me there…”

 

            Out of nowhere, he shivered for a second. Kurama crooked his head. “Is something wrong?”

 

            “No. I’m fine- it’s just cold in my room…”

 

            “…Oh…”

 

            Leaning on the counter Kurama was on, Hiei had one forearm laid on either side of his friend. He looked up steadily- his lips quivering to open. The redhead gazed down on him, his own sensations reacting to the electrical current that was phasing through his state of mind. He leaned forward, and consented the other’s lips.  

 

            They touched. Together, at once, they touched It started slow- minor fondling. In a minute, their mouths began to move- penetrating and desiring to taste.  Their eyes closed, and Kurama could feel the other’s hand creep up his back, through his hair, and cup the rear of his head. Everything was happening fast, their breathing hastening along with what seemed to be time. One kiss. Two. Three. Consecutively they became more passionate- hotter. At the pinnacle, the redhead broke off fast before Hiei could go any deeper, and let his head cast itself down and away in disgrace. 

 

            “…I can’t… I can’t do it, Hiei… I don’t WANT to… Kaasan…”

 

            Nodding grimly, he understood. “…You’re right…”

 

            Lifting his vision to see the demon, Hiei broke into shaking again.

 

            “You really must be cold down here… I’m sorry; my mother likes to use the air conditioning…”

            “Kurama…”

 

            “Mm…?”

 

            “What made you go through all this?” He pointed to the feet. Kurama chuckled with a hint of sadness.

 

            “… I got lost at the hotel… I was racing against the clock; therefore I chose to use the staircase instead of the elevator… I managed to get enlisted for the regional teams, so it’s nothing to worry about anymore…”

 

            “Hn… You won’t be a terrific player if your feet are in this deficiently a shape…”

 

            The redhead jumped from the counter, his countenance flinching from ache on touch. “I make do…”

 

            He headed for the stairs. Hiei blinked.

 

            “What are you doing?”

 

            “Getting you an extra blanket…”

 

            The demon crossed his arms. “You shouldn’t. You will have to confront more steps…”

 

            Kurama’s hand was already covering the ball of the banister. Moving his smile to Hiei, he sighed visibly as his shoulders shrugged up and down. “…I don’t mind…”