In a Disused Graveyard
by K Firefly aka Kat D

The rain dripped serenely onto the earth, forming little rivers. The sky was a soft gray, the rain cold. A January wind bit harshly, but it was not cold enough for snow yet. Underneath the endless rain, the colors of the earth blurred. Rocks were chipped away at. In time, canyons were formed. Great mountains because soft, rolling hills. And the world moved forward. How different were the three worlds. Kurama had grown to like this race over his own. Their lives were so short, but they fought against their destiny with all their might. They had created some of the best works, the best music, the best poetry and stories. Kurama imagined this was because that so much passion had to be compressed into such a short time. It was impressive. He walked quietly along in the woods, noticing the subtle change from rain to snow as the temperature dropped. The trees reached their skeletal fingers into the sky, catching the snow fall on their branches. The dark trees stretched on for what seemed forever, and Kurama was surprised when the woods ended and a graveyard lay in front of him. The tombstones were worn by time. They had lost edges and were now curved, sticking up at misshapen angels from the cold earth. Dead weeds clung to the stone, covering the carved names already filled in by moss. More surprising, though, was a dark shadow that stood with hands in pockets in front of the graves. It couldn¹t be.

"Hiei!"

The figure turned sharply, blinking several times. For all the world, he looked the same. Time had treated him well. "Kurama..." Hiei¹s face was sad and worn.

"I didn¹t know you came back here."

"Che," his friend turned away. Kurama walked to where his friend stood, reading the name on the gravestone.

"It¹s been a long time," Kurama traced his fingers on the names inscribed lightly.

"She died because of the stupid ningen," Hiei looked back at the name on the stone, but his thoughts were far away.

"Perhaps you should have told her..."

"I did what I had to do!" Hiei turned angrily on Kurama.

"She lived so long without knowing, Hiei. When she outlived Kuwabara and Keiko and Shizuru and her own children died, she had nothing left. Her heart broke, Hiei," Kurama spoke truthfully, his youko nature biting harshly.

"I could never have told her..." Hiei defended weakly. His shoulders were slumped.

"We all make mistakes."

"I didn¹t even know until one of Mukuro¹s messengers told me." His voice was quiet. Gods, how he¹d changed in the last hundreds of years.

Kurama¹s eyes caught on the name next to Yukina¹s and Kuwabara¹s. In fact, all the graves in the immediate area were those of ones they had known.

"Those were the days, weren¹t they, Hiei?"

"Stupid Ningen. They die so soon."

"What is this, Hiei? Do you miss them?" Kurama¹s eyebrows rose in slight surprise, but he found it wasn¹t real. He knew his friend had always cared, because they had cared for him.

"No," Hiei denied.

"How did they all get buried together?" Kurama wondered aloud. Hiei looked at him sharply. "Did you do this?"

"Maybe I had a little to do with it," Hiei admitted quietly.

"They were probably happy with that," Kurama smiled gently.

"It doesn¹t matter. These are only their bodies turned to dust. I¹m sure Koenma has taken good care of them."

Kurama looked at Hiei curiously. He had never shown trust in that undersized demigod before. "I miss them sometimes," Kurama admitted. "The days as reikai tantei were some of the best. Endless adventure, I¹ve never been so at peace."

"Peace? They were peaceful? Hn, stupid fox."

"Things fall apart so fast here. Change happens so quickly," Kurama sighed. "Living in the Ningenkai certainly changes your perception on things."

"Getting philosophical in your old age?"

"Hey, who¹re you calling old?"

"Che." Hiei waved the subject away with a slight movement of his hand. The two were silent for a minute. The snow was falling harder now, the wind stronger. Hiei¹s white scarf was blew in the wind, his cloak pressing against his legs. Kurama looked at his friend quietly. While humans changed quickly, demons seemed to never change. Maybe it wasn¹t his friend who had changed at all, but Kurama.

"You haven¹t seemed to change," Hiei voiced Kurama¹s own thoughts. Kurama blinked quickly. "And you¹re still in that human form. How did that happen?"

"I can change forms freely now. I¹ve grown accustomed to this one. Because of who I am, this body is not as affected." Kurama replied.

"Hn." Hiei responded distantly. Kurama smiled. It was true, some creatures never changed. "I think I like you better in this form," Hiei spoke again, breaking the silence. Kurama glanced at him sharply, taking back his previous observation.

"What?"

"I said, I think I like this form better."

"You do? Why?" Still as enigmatic, Kurama saw. Then again, there was a certain comfort in things that didn¹t change. A familiar hearth and home was always nice to come back to. It was nice to know that while the rest of the worlds would shift dramatically, some things would never be different.

Hiei didn¹t reply for a long time, and Kurama believed the conversation had ended. "Good memories." The answer was quiet and Kurama almost didn't here it before it got lost in the wind. Kurama looked over at his friend from the past and saw a sad, almost wistful expression on his face.

"You miss them." Kurama stated this as a fact, not a question.

"No." Hiei denied, again.

"I miss them, too." Kurama went on, reverting back to the subject they had strayed from. "I learned a lot from these humans. We had a lot of fun. I wonder what they're doing now. I wonder if they're still adventuring."

"Death will always be an adventure."

"Yes, it will be." The snow covered all of the ground now, a light dusting. The trees still clawed restlessly at the sky, but the wind was not as strong now. "Yuusuke took Keiko's death hard."

"He knew it was coming. He knew what awaited her. Befriending the demigod of death, he knew exactly what would happen. Somehow, knowing what awaits us has made death loose it's mysticism."

"You're not afraid of hell?"

"Are you?"

"Not if you're going to be there."

"Hn."

"But do you honestly think Yuusuke will let us stay in hell? He¹'ll kick Koenma's ass before he'll let that happen. And do you believe we'll actually go to hell?" There was no response. "You know, Yukina probably knows you're her brother now."

Hiei nodded tightly. "I know."

"She may be angry when you confront her."

"I know."

"Do you think they watch on us?"

"Who?"

"The dead. Our friends."

"You changed the subject."

"I did. Do you think they do?"

"Maybe if they were bored. How the hell am I supposed to know?" Hiei bit sharply.

"You haven't changed," Kurama spoke his convictions aloud, echoing the observation Hiei had made of him earlier.

"That's comforting to know."

They were enveloped in the silence again. Neither of the two companions had ever been extreme talkers. Sometimes it was best to left things to go unsaid and just be happy with the presence of the other. The best relationships were like that, and both knew how rare true friends were.

To them, it almost seemed as a portion of them had died every time one of their friends had. As their friends passed, the only thing left of the past days was a whispering memory. Already, their actions had been forgotten in this world. The people who had lived so vivaciously were just carved names on a forgotten tombstone. Stories of their trials were lost in time, only remembered in the other two worlds, and while this was quite a feat and an honor, it wasn't the same as being remembered in your own home world. The Ningenkai passed the seasons smoothly, the grass grew and the leaves fell. The seasons continued as they had for the past thousands of years, and as they would for ages to come. People died every second, and their own kind soon forgot them unless they'd done something important. It must be hard to be a human. Knowing your life was short, and in the end, it wouldn't make a difference. To Hiei, it seemed no one cared. Death, his old companion had now become a frightening ending. He had actually grown fond of living, or at least, familiar with it. He knew what awaited him, but it unsettled him to think that everything he had done would be forgotten. Time erased all, and it seemed pointless. Why had the gods created them? Simple interest? A cruel joke, for sure. Lost souls closed off from another, searching for comfort but only finding small condolences in their beliefs and other souls like them. Kurama was wrong, Hiei thought in dismay, he had changed. He glanced at his friend out of the corner of his eye. Kurama was looking off into the distance. Row upon row of misshapen and broken stones carved with those forgotten leaned at odd angles to the ground. It seemed, as the soul broke from the pain and hard bearings of the earth, the stones had mirrored them. Cracked and defeated, they were torn down by time and weeds and slowly sank down. No one cared, no one ever cared. You had to take what condolences you had during life. The world of the living and the dead were too different and could never be shared. Kurama walked over to his brooding friend quietly. He opened his trench coat, engulfing Hiei in it, pulling him close. Years ago, Hiei would've lashed back viciously, but he had changed a lot since then. The comfort of a familiar face and his familiar scent warmed his soul.

"Let's go home, Hiei. We have a long way to go before we can rest." Kurama gently guided his younger friend home. They were the only ones left of a legacy, the only ones who carried the memory of the humans who had done so much and fought so hard. They were alone in a sea of millions of lost souls, but, they realized, in the whole world, sometimes all you needed was a friend. And that friend would fight your demons with you and be there forever, and in a world that changed so quickly, you took your comforts where you could.

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