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lady_flamewingTitle: That Strange and Subtle Magic of Birthdays
Fandom: Yu Yu Hakusho
Pairing: Yusuke/Kurama
Rating: PG-13, for some innuendo.
Beta:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
suzu_no_hito
A/N: A multi-part, AU fic, based on a number of sources, but most notably the short story "The Djinn in the Nightingale's Eye". A quick update, and a longer chapter, to make up for the long pause between previous chapters and the brevity of the last update.
Yusuke watches carefully as Kurama takes in the sight, the smells, the sounds, the tastes – popcorn and cotton candy, baking dough and candied sugar – that come wafting to them from various brightly-colored tents. For several long moments, the djinn seems content to simply breathe slowly in and out, his eyes closed, his expression content.
Finally, Yusuke can’t take it anymore. “Well?” he asks impatiently. “What do you think?”
Kurama opens his eyes and turns towards Yusuke. “It’s a festival,” he says, and despite his casual shrug, Yusuke can see the delight in his eyes. “Different from those I have known, but a festival nonetheless.”
Yusuke groans. “And here I thought I’d have you all doe-eyed with wonder,” he grumbles. Kurama chuckles.
“What are we doing here, anyway?” he thinks to ask. Yusuke grins.
“Having fun,” he answers. “Come on.” And before Kurama can protest, Yusuke takes him by the hand and leads him straight into the chaotic center of the carnival.
------
They go on one ride, and then it’s all downhill – in a matter of speaking – from there, as Yusuke realizes that Kurama’s unintentional reactions thrill him in ways he couldn’t have anticipated. At every dip, spin, drop, Kurama wrinkles his nose, or gasps softly, or gives a breathy moan, and Yusuke is quick to exhaust every possibility of eliciting those reactions again.
He’s just about to suggest they repeat the circuit of rides, but Kurama gives him a look that says quite clearly, ‘I can see right through you,’ and Yusuke decides that maybe it’s time to move on to the boardwalk games.
He makes another interesting discovery here: Kurama’s not above using his magic to cheat. He must be using his magic, Yusuke soon realizes, because sure, Yusuke’s always been lucky, but never like this. In no time at all, the two are staggering along, arms laden with neon-bright stuffed animals, and Yusuke’s just beginning to wonder what the hell he’s going to do with them all when he notices that Kurama’s giving them away.
It’s not that he’s simply handing them out at random, though, Yusuke thinks, after watching a few of the exchanges. The djinn will discreetly – but intently – study a child for several long moments before deliberately selecting a toy from the vast number he and Yusuke are carrying.
Some of these Yusuke can pretend to understand: a playful and energetic boy is presented with a handsome black dog; the bright, cheerful one laughs delightedly at his rabbit’s crooked ears. But others leave him absolutely mystified: a timid, soft-spoken girl walks away clutching a fierce orange tiger in her delicate arms; the boy with belligerent eyes and a sharp tongue is left staring incredulously at his fluffy new sheep.
Yet, no matter how reluctant or eager the children are to accept the proffered gifts, there is no hiding the way their eyes light up – each and every time – in that unbridled joy of childhood.
Yusuke watches curiously, but he waits until they’re headed home, until Kurama’s given away all but two of the animals, before he brings it up.
“So, what was all that about?” he asks. “That thing with the stuffed animals?”
“Well, I didn’t think you’d want to keep the silly things,” Kurama answers, turning to him with wide, innocent eyes. “Shall I run and fetch them all back for you, Master?”
Yusuke gives him a half-hearted glare. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” he protests. “You were…doing something,” he trails off weakly, realizing that he has no idea what Kurama was doing. “Something magic.”
Kurama laughs, though not unkindly, before answering. “All humans are inherently magical, you know.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Yusuke asks, frowning. “And what does that even mean? If everybody’s magic, then why doesn’t everyone go around doing magic all the time?”
“They do.”
Yusuke has no response to that, other than to fix Kurama with a skeptical glare until the djinn finally breaks down and explains – which gives Yusuke a strange sense of pride. “All humans perform weak magic throughout their everyday lives, whether they are aware of it or not.”
“How can people not know they’re doing magic?” Yusuke asks. “I would think it would be fairly obvious.”
“You didn’t,” Kurama points out, smiling.
Yusuke blinks. “What?”
“Luck,” Kurama says simply. “Luck is the most common form of unintentionally expressed magic.”
“Then…all that, back there… That was me?” Yusuke asks hesitantly. He’s honestly not sure how he feels about that. A little proud, maybe, but tinged with a healthy dose of skepticism.
“I may have…prodded your magic a bit,” the djinn admits, smiling, “but it was primarily your own power, yes.”
“I don’t understand,” Yusuke protests. “Why would I have such powerful magic to begin with?”
“Because you believe in it.”
Yusuke groans in exasperation. “Do you get some sort of perverse pleasure out of being vague?”
Kurama smiles, an unreadable expression in his eyes. “Human magic - any magic, really – hinges strongly on belief. You, since you have now had some exposure to magic, have heightened your belief in its existence – and thus, exponentially increased the strength of your own magic.”
“Children,” he continues, “tend to have a powerful belief in the magic of all things, and so will generally exhibit stronger magic than most adults.”
Yusuke frowns, considering. “Okay… I guess that makes sense. But I still don’t get what that has to do with the stuffed animals.”
“Magic exists as an aura – a sort of…trailing mist, for lack of a better description – about its master,” Kurama explains, shrugging, “visible to anyone with a more powerful magic. But past a certain level of power, the aura will assume a form, a physical shape. The shape is arbitrary, often independent of the master’s character, but it always creates a powerful bond between magic and master.”
“So…you were…matching those kids’ magic…with the shapes their magics have taken?” Yusuke ventures, and is quite relieved when Kurama nods.
“Yes. The shape of a person’s magic can be forcibly revealed by anyone with a more powerful magic. And because of the bond between magic and master, a person will feel a strong connection to whatever form their magic has taken.”
Yusuke gestures curiously at the remaining animals. “And what about those? Couldn’t find matches?”
Kurama shakes his head and holds one out, some hideous, pastel-blue monstrosity. “On the contrary. These are ours.”
Reluctantly, Yusuke takes the thing – a penguin, he thinks it’s supposed to be. “You’ve got to be kidding,” he says with a grimace.
Kurama laughs behind one elegant hand. “Well,” he admits, reaching out to it, “it’s not quite right.” He places both hands atop the toy, and suddenly, there’s a bizarre flex of power in Yusuke’s hands.
He watches, astonished, as the thing changes shape in response to Kurama’s magic: its fur shortens and darkens, it grows squatter and more square, it sprouts a tiny tuft of unruly black hair and a pair of ears that more resemble wings than anything else. And damned if, when Kurama pulls away and lets him stare at the thing, Yusuke doesn’t feel a recurrence of that strange twinge of recognition.
“What is it?” he asks, with no small amount of trepidation.
“A phoenix chick.”
Yusuke holds it up and turns it in several directions, wondering if a new angle of observation will help. It doesn’t, really. “A phoenix? Those legendary birds…made of fire, or whatever?”
“Precisely. Rather odd-looking things when they’re young, aren’t they?”
Yusuke nods absently. He’s more interested in the piece of information Kurama’s let slip. Unintentionally, Yusuke’s willing to bet. “How do you know what a phoenix looks like?”
The djinn looks startled for a moment, but he turns away with another graceful shrug, inspecting the last remaining animal.
“Not quite right, either,” he murmurs, and his magic pulses out once more.
It rolls over Yusuke’s skin in waves he can almost see, rippling across his bare arms. And in one frightening moment, he realizes that – even if his mind doesn’t quite understand – his body does know Kurama’s, and it wants the djinn. He’s aroused now, watching the boy’s delicate features furrow in concentration, feeling his power – more so than he can ever remember being before.
Shaken, Yusuke forces himself to watch only the animal, tearing his gaze from the djinn whose will is shaping it. The little creature pales – the color rushes into its eyes – grows a number of new tails, and leaves Yusuke staring at a little silver fox with glowing amber eyes.
The recognition this time is staggering in its intensity, sending Yusuke reeling until he collides heavily with the side of an empty booth. The pain registers only dimly, as does the sound of Kurama calling his name, as he loses his senses under a flood of memories that aren’t his.
A boy, the image of his own (and that strange sense of possession is startling) djinn – similar, but not the same. Warmer, kinder, but in turns also colder, and more deadly. Yusuke knows him, but doesn’t. He watches this other Kurama (instinctively assigning him the same name, even if it isn’t correct) – watches him fight, watches him bleed, watches him die, before he finally wrenches himself away from the memories, disoriented, to feel someone shaking his shoulders none too gently.
“Yusuke,” Kurama - his Kurama – says, brow furrowed, “are you all right?”
“Fine,” Yusuke lies, bending to retrieve their animals from where they have been dropped in the dust. He hands them to Kurama, who cradles them gently in his arms.
“We ought to head back,” the djinn suggests. “You look quite pale.”
Yusuke nods. “Yeah. Let’s go home.”
Preoccupied as he is with thoughts, feelings, memories that seem at once completely alien and as natural as breathing, he misses the look of surprised contemplation that flickers over Kurama’s face in response.
Comments and criticisms are welcomed, as always!
Fandom: Yu Yu Hakusho
Pairing: Yusuke/Kurama
Rating: PG-13, for some innuendo.
Beta:
suzu_no_hitoA/N: A multi-part, AU fic, based on a number of sources, but most notably the short story "The Djinn in the Nightingale's Eye". A quick update, and a longer chapter, to make up for the long pause between previous chapters and the brevity of the last update.
Yusuke watches carefully as Kurama takes in the sight, the smells, the sounds, the tastes – popcorn and cotton candy, baking dough and candied sugar – that come wafting to them from various brightly-colored tents. For several long moments, the djinn seems content to simply breathe slowly in and out, his eyes closed, his expression content.
Finally, Yusuke can’t take it anymore. “Well?” he asks impatiently. “What do you think?”
Kurama opens his eyes and turns towards Yusuke. “It’s a festival,” he says, and despite his casual shrug, Yusuke can see the delight in his eyes. “Different from those I have known, but a festival nonetheless.”
Yusuke groans. “And here I thought I’d have you all doe-eyed with wonder,” he grumbles. Kurama chuckles.
“What are we doing here, anyway?” he thinks to ask. Yusuke grins.
“Having fun,” he answers. “Come on.” And before Kurama can protest, Yusuke takes him by the hand and leads him straight into the chaotic center of the carnival.
------
They go on one ride, and then it’s all downhill – in a matter of speaking – from there, as Yusuke realizes that Kurama’s unintentional reactions thrill him in ways he couldn’t have anticipated. At every dip, spin, drop, Kurama wrinkles his nose, or gasps softly, or gives a breathy moan, and Yusuke is quick to exhaust every possibility of eliciting those reactions again.
He’s just about to suggest they repeat the circuit of rides, but Kurama gives him a look that says quite clearly, ‘I can see right through you,’ and Yusuke decides that maybe it’s time to move on to the boardwalk games.
He makes another interesting discovery here: Kurama’s not above using his magic to cheat. He must be using his magic, Yusuke soon realizes, because sure, Yusuke’s always been lucky, but never like this. In no time at all, the two are staggering along, arms laden with neon-bright stuffed animals, and Yusuke’s just beginning to wonder what the hell he’s going to do with them all when he notices that Kurama’s giving them away.
It’s not that he’s simply handing them out at random, though, Yusuke thinks, after watching a few of the exchanges. The djinn will discreetly – but intently – study a child for several long moments before deliberately selecting a toy from the vast number he and Yusuke are carrying.
Some of these Yusuke can pretend to understand: a playful and energetic boy is presented with a handsome black dog; the bright, cheerful one laughs delightedly at his rabbit’s crooked ears. But others leave him absolutely mystified: a timid, soft-spoken girl walks away clutching a fierce orange tiger in her delicate arms; the boy with belligerent eyes and a sharp tongue is left staring incredulously at his fluffy new sheep.
Yet, no matter how reluctant or eager the children are to accept the proffered gifts, there is no hiding the way their eyes light up – each and every time – in that unbridled joy of childhood.
Yusuke watches curiously, but he waits until they’re headed home, until Kurama’s given away all but two of the animals, before he brings it up.
“So, what was all that about?” he asks. “That thing with the stuffed animals?”
“Well, I didn’t think you’d want to keep the silly things,” Kurama answers, turning to him with wide, innocent eyes. “Shall I run and fetch them all back for you, Master?”
Yusuke gives him a half-hearted glare. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” he protests. “You were…doing something,” he trails off weakly, realizing that he has no idea what Kurama was doing. “Something magic.”
Kurama laughs, though not unkindly, before answering. “All humans are inherently magical, you know.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Yusuke asks, frowning. “And what does that even mean? If everybody’s magic, then why doesn’t everyone go around doing magic all the time?”
“They do.”
Yusuke has no response to that, other than to fix Kurama with a skeptical glare until the djinn finally breaks down and explains – which gives Yusuke a strange sense of pride. “All humans perform weak magic throughout their everyday lives, whether they are aware of it or not.”
“How can people not know they’re doing magic?” Yusuke asks. “I would think it would be fairly obvious.”
“You didn’t,” Kurama points out, smiling.
Yusuke blinks. “What?”
“Luck,” Kurama says simply. “Luck is the most common form of unintentionally expressed magic.”
“Then…all that, back there… That was me?” Yusuke asks hesitantly. He’s honestly not sure how he feels about that. A little proud, maybe, but tinged with a healthy dose of skepticism.
“I may have…prodded your magic a bit,” the djinn admits, smiling, “but it was primarily your own power, yes.”
“I don’t understand,” Yusuke protests. “Why would I have such powerful magic to begin with?”
“Because you believe in it.”
Yusuke groans in exasperation. “Do you get some sort of perverse pleasure out of being vague?”
Kurama smiles, an unreadable expression in his eyes. “Human magic - any magic, really – hinges strongly on belief. You, since you have now had some exposure to magic, have heightened your belief in its existence – and thus, exponentially increased the strength of your own magic.”
“Children,” he continues, “tend to have a powerful belief in the magic of all things, and so will generally exhibit stronger magic than most adults.”
Yusuke frowns, considering. “Okay… I guess that makes sense. But I still don’t get what that has to do with the stuffed animals.”
“Magic exists as an aura – a sort of…trailing mist, for lack of a better description – about its master,” Kurama explains, shrugging, “visible to anyone with a more powerful magic. But past a certain level of power, the aura will assume a form, a physical shape. The shape is arbitrary, often independent of the master’s character, but it always creates a powerful bond between magic and master.”
“So…you were…matching those kids’ magic…with the shapes their magics have taken?” Yusuke ventures, and is quite relieved when Kurama nods.
“Yes. The shape of a person’s magic can be forcibly revealed by anyone with a more powerful magic. And because of the bond between magic and master, a person will feel a strong connection to whatever form their magic has taken.”
Yusuke gestures curiously at the remaining animals. “And what about those? Couldn’t find matches?”
Kurama shakes his head and holds one out, some hideous, pastel-blue monstrosity. “On the contrary. These are ours.”
Reluctantly, Yusuke takes the thing – a penguin, he thinks it’s supposed to be. “You’ve got to be kidding,” he says with a grimace.
Kurama laughs behind one elegant hand. “Well,” he admits, reaching out to it, “it’s not quite right.” He places both hands atop the toy, and suddenly, there’s a bizarre flex of power in Yusuke’s hands.
He watches, astonished, as the thing changes shape in response to Kurama’s magic: its fur shortens and darkens, it grows squatter and more square, it sprouts a tiny tuft of unruly black hair and a pair of ears that more resemble wings than anything else. And damned if, when Kurama pulls away and lets him stare at the thing, Yusuke doesn’t feel a recurrence of that strange twinge of recognition.
“What is it?” he asks, with no small amount of trepidation.
“A phoenix chick.”
Yusuke holds it up and turns it in several directions, wondering if a new angle of observation will help. It doesn’t, really. “A phoenix? Those legendary birds…made of fire, or whatever?”
“Precisely. Rather odd-looking things when they’re young, aren’t they?”
Yusuke nods absently. He’s more interested in the piece of information Kurama’s let slip. Unintentionally, Yusuke’s willing to bet. “How do you know what a phoenix looks like?”
The djinn looks startled for a moment, but he turns away with another graceful shrug, inspecting the last remaining animal.
“Not quite right, either,” he murmurs, and his magic pulses out once more.
It rolls over Yusuke’s skin in waves he can almost see, rippling across his bare arms. And in one frightening moment, he realizes that – even if his mind doesn’t quite understand – his body does know Kurama’s, and it wants the djinn. He’s aroused now, watching the boy’s delicate features furrow in concentration, feeling his power – more so than he can ever remember being before.
Shaken, Yusuke forces himself to watch only the animal, tearing his gaze from the djinn whose will is shaping it. The little creature pales – the color rushes into its eyes – grows a number of new tails, and leaves Yusuke staring at a little silver fox with glowing amber eyes.
The recognition this time is staggering in its intensity, sending Yusuke reeling until he collides heavily with the side of an empty booth. The pain registers only dimly, as does the sound of Kurama calling his name, as he loses his senses under a flood of memories that aren’t his.
A boy, the image of his own (and that strange sense of possession is startling) djinn – similar, but not the same. Warmer, kinder, but in turns also colder, and more deadly. Yusuke knows him, but doesn’t. He watches this other Kurama (instinctively assigning him the same name, even if it isn’t correct) – watches him fight, watches him bleed, watches him die, before he finally wrenches himself away from the memories, disoriented, to feel someone shaking his shoulders none too gently.
“Yusuke,” Kurama - his Kurama – says, brow furrowed, “are you all right?”
“Fine,” Yusuke lies, bending to retrieve their animals from where they have been dropped in the dust. He hands them to Kurama, who cradles them gently in his arms.
“We ought to head back,” the djinn suggests. “You look quite pale.”
Yusuke nods. “Yeah. Let’s go home.”
Preoccupied as he is with thoughts, feelings, memories that seem at once completely alien and as natural as breathing, he misses the look of surprised contemplation that flickers over Kurama’s face in response.
Comments and criticisms are welcomed, as always!
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no subject
Date: 2008-06-13 12:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-13 12:51 am (UTC)Hopefully, I should be able to crank out the rest (or at least, most of the rest) during the summer.
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Date: 2008-06-13 05:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-13 07:33 am (UTC)