The piece for the letter I is a short Yami no Matsuei that is threatening to take on a life of it's own. I should know better; my Kurikara drabbles tend to want to become much larger works. Even if only to explain the AU background, they could certainly use it.

But for now, I will resist adding to my list of unfinished projects by giving in to this pieces demand for attention. Please enjoy want it here, and let me know your thoughts.

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( I- Hisoka had made an agreement with the Golden Emperor in order to end the chaos swirling around them both, and he couldn't help feeling that his arrangement had doomed the dragon. )

Another song-inspired ficlet, because I still haven't gotten around to finding the writing prompts. I'm on a total Yami kick lately, so don't be surprised if I write excessive amounts of shiki-fiction in the next few days. The English-speaking Yami no Matsuei fandom is sorely lacking in Gensoukai and Kamakura Arc stuff, and me being the Kurikara fan I am, will start attempting to fix that.

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Taiyou no Ao- The Blue of the Sun

It was painful. Kurikara knew he was a fool for returning to Tenkuu, but he did it anyways. For that boy.

The Twelve Divine Generals- the talkative ones, at least- had babbled to him when his banishment was lifted. That they were glad he was back, that they had missed him, that he would enjoy being here again. Suzaku-neesan had grabbed him and nearly hugged him to death against her bosom. He'd always hated that, but he found he didn't really mind it then. Byakko had of course pounced on him, knocking him to the ground, and that he had minded. But Byakko wasn't nearly as soft and comfy as the curvy Phoenix.

Then they started babbling about other things. They were all quite taken with their master, Tsuzuki. He didn't see it. He had turned down the shinigami when he'd come to him. He'd already had most, if not all, of his current shiki. Now that he knew what Tsuzuki had done for Touda, and he wondered if he had planned the same for him.

Free the outcasts, bind them together, let them suffer alone in each others presense.

No thank you.

He'd picked the one that needed him instead. Cursed, broken, trapped in a teenager's body, never strong enough... That was the sort of person Kurikara needed, and the one that needed him.

Kurikara liked to be needed. Because of his own child-like form, people often over-looked him, even for things he was perfectly suited for. Souryu sprang to mind. The stuffed up water dragon had taken decades to admit to himself that Kurikara was his equal. He'd loosened up since then, just a little, but it had been a battle to gain his regard.

How he'd wanted it back then! Souryu was tall and handsome and powerful in every way that mattered. He was what Kurikara had wanted to be. He'd been ecstatic when the other dragon had started treated him as an adult.

They'd been friends, after that. Kurikara's admiration was tempered by the realization that Souryu was a dragon just like himself. He still remembered the times when they would just sit together, Souryu with a book in hand and Kurikara playing with the butterflies and birds that came to him.

Those memories brought a slow smile to his face as he sat in Tenkuu's gardens. Although the newer memories hurt, the old ones were pleasant, once he shook off the sheen of regret.

His blind eye throbbed, and out of the other, he could see a deeper blue against the sky. His smile dropped. It was Souryu, playing with Kijin and Tenko. The girl, Kurikara knew, kept the form of a child, even though she could become an adult at will. He wondered what Souryu thought of his daughter doing the same thing his mortal enemy did. Or did it make him think of those long-ago, regret-tinged times in this very garden?

Souryu smiled down at the girl, his form strong and fatherly, the burdens dropping off his face. Once, Kurikara had been the one to make his careworn frown fade. He was more than a little jealous of the girl.

The tiny fire dragon wondered idly if he could ever bring a smile to his old friend's face- any smile at all would do. Was the pain he'd inflicted too deep now, or had it been worn over by other joys? Did his betrayal of his own kind to help the weaker humans still hurt?

He would never make Souryu smile again, and it was his own fault. He'd done what he thought was right. He'd paid for it when he was trapped in the Floating Desert. He still paid for it now.

Kurikara turned away from his old regrets, and looked up at the leaves above him. There were no trees in the desert. He'd missed the way the leaves turned with the seasons. Now, they were the vibrant green of mid-spring.

He knew eyes that color. The eyes of his new master, and the leaves of the trees. Let the others keep their Tsuzuki. There was an entire world, and a little boy with green eyes, who needed him now.

Leaf-green, he reminded himself as he walked out of the garden, and left the blue behind.

So. I've decided to attempt to write more. Even if it's only a short drabble. Which I'm actually fond of, for some reason. Must be the short attention span. To further this goal, I am issuing challenges to myself. I have a big list of writing prompts and such printed out somewhere, but it's in the abyss currently known as my room. Instead, I will ask Winamp-san to help. IE. I stick all my music on random and hit the Next button, and let that inspire me.

Here goes nothing.

Ordinary World (Duran Duran cover by Fenix TX)

Shit ^^;;;

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Kurikara looked down at the scene below him. Tenkuu from above still stirred his heart and made a small smile touch his lips, even with all the baggage the place was accumulating in his memories. The beautiful Forbidden Palace of China was a pale imitation of Tenkuu's grounds, a shadow of the Gensoukai's jewel.

Long ago, in his barren desert prison, he'd dreamed of when he'd be able to see this sight again. Even longer before that, he'd enjoyed this same view, levitating above and watching the people, friends, family, and mere acquaintances, scrambling about like ants below him.

His body had been the same almost-chubby child's form. His hair had been longer, though, before he'd shorn it off, limiting his draconic powers. His smile back then had been a little truer, a touch broader. His hands had been less calloused from carrying a sword, and far less covered with blood. His eyes unclouded...

His right eye had been open, unscarred, still fuctional, back then. He was thinking of a time very long ago.

Below him, Kurikara could see, with his good left eye and his honed warrior's senses, all the people walking around. That red form was surely the Phoenix Suzaku, energetic and strong and sensual. That white one Byakko the Tiger-God, napping in the sun. That black one, broody Touda. The pale gold, Rikugo with his six all-seeing eyes. The rich sapphire, Souryu.

The little dragon turned away. Tenkuu didn't change. It was a constant, reassuring palace in a shifting world.

The one that had changed beyond repair was him.