Disclaimer: I don't own Yu Yu Hakusho

"I said STAY AWAY!" Koenma screamed, fist slamming into Sakyo's jaw. He had finally lost all control; flashes of blue light from the pacifier were slicing into his skin all over his body. But he didn't care – and as the crystal blue energy swirled and darkened, becoming a shade of dark indigo streaked with midnight black and blood red, he laughed; reveling in power that had been suppressed for far too long.

Snarling, Koenma spun towards Sakyo. "You said you wanted demons? Well, I'll give you demons." Laughing, he stalked forward, the center of a maelstrom of faintly demonic energy.

Chapter IV: Kenshin

Sakyo would never admit it, but he was scared. Usually, he was one to find exhilaration in a situation that any other person would find terrifying; it was one of the reasons he was so successful a gambler. But this, this was something he hadn't bet on. The Reikai prince was surrounded by a cocoon of slicing blue spirit energy – obviously from the pacifier in Koenma's pocket – but was not the least bit discomforted. Koenma didn't even notice that his shirt and tunic were turning into rags and falling off his body and blood was dripping from open wounds. No, he hadn't expected this at all.

Koenma was attacking him now; the demigod was so much faster than before. He was a mere blur of crackling indigo energy that flickered in Sakyo's vision just in time to land a punch and then back out again before Sakyo could really retaliate.

This is getting me nowhere. Which idiot decided to give the Mafuukan to the only resident half-demon in Spirit World? Because I'm going to kill him, Koenma thought sourly as yet another one of his punches was deflected just enough to be useless as an effective weapon against Sakyo but still enough to hinder his own attack. Alright, this ends now.

"You'd better say your prayers, Sakyo!" An extra burst of speed, and he was gone. Sakyo had no time to react before Koenma's fist was planted in his gut; another second and Koenma had slammed into the small of his back. Then the flaming indigo fist was crashing up under Sakyo's ribcage. The billionaire shot upwards, but had no time to gather his bearings as Koenma followed up the punch with a powerful kick to the jaw; unrelenting as he pushed Sakyo higher and higher.

Vanishing from below Sakyo, Koenma reappeared above him – the two were finally face-to-face: the one, human and terrified; the other demonic, with fangs, faintly red irises, and indigo tattoos that angled down each cheek from below his eyes. Koenma pulled one fist back, his aura shifting and gathering around the limb, lending strength behind a punch that would stop even Toguro in his tracks.

"DRAGON FIST!" Koenma roared, and Sakyo was left with this hellish vision as Koenma's fist struck his stomach, and Sakyo was hurtling towards the ground far below.

Yusuke stared open-mouthed at the contestants, shocked; appalled, even. Yusuke wasn't one the thinking type, instead he was a doer. This meant he understood the language of fists and kicks, rather than that of twisted words and hidden looks. That was why Yusuke suspected he understood what was really happening even better than Kurama, who always seemed omnipotent. Everything about Koenma's body and movements screamed to Yusuke of fighting not to win, nor for the sake of enjoyment; but rather to destroy, and reveling in the sheer power that came with it. And so Yusuke suddenly found himself fearing for Sakyo when he shot up into the air.

The next few moments were a blur of punches and kicks that Yusuke knew he would appreciate, but later. Then the action climaxed, and time stopped for a moment; Koenma's piercing cry echoing in his thoughts and the image of Sakyo hanging limply in the air burned into his mind. Then time started up again and Sakyo was plummeting towards the ground and Koenma was hurtling out and downwards as well, seemingly lifeless.

There was a thundering crash as both opponents hit the arena floor, instantly creating enormous craters while cracks fled away from the epicenter as in an earthquake, breaking apart the entire stone floor. Dust rose up in large, billowing clouds, obscuring all vision, leaving Yusuke to think not of an earthquake, but of a bomb blast.

The dust around Sakyo cleared first, and from the startled gasps of Kuwabara and many others nearby, Yusuke knew that he wasn't dreaming. Sakyo was lying in a pool of his own blood; Koenma's punch had gone straight through the other's body.

Horrified, Yusuke spun towards Koenma, tensing unconsciously. He needed to see; and if Koenma had become what Yusuke feared he had, the Spirit Detective was prepared to do what he must.

The dust cleared, like a veil being lifted. Standing before them all was not the toddler or even the more mature Koenma, but what appeared to be a new being entirely. A pair of jagged indigo tattoos encircled each arm and one fist was dripping blood. The markings on his chest were the same color; two parallel checks at his ribs that extended and pointed upwards, to the center of his chest; the center of his back. Symmetrically, another pair of tattoos stretched along the collarbone, to the shoulder; to the shoulder blades and extended towards the middle of the back. If connected, the markings would form a cross, but they never touched. Even Koenma's face exhibited similar angled tattoos. But Yusuke wasn't interested in any of this or even in the horrific number of old scars that littered the Prince's upper chest, back, and arms. No, the Spirit Detective was watching only his boss's eyes.

Even as Yusuke looked, he relaxed, only to feel an unusual pang of worry. Koenma was more terrified than Yusuke himself had been.

What…what have I done? Oh God…Koenma could only stare at Sakyo, horrified. I…I never meant to…No, no!

"In an amazing turnaround, Lord Koenma seems to have pulled some wicked new powers out of his bag of tricks. And what powers they were! Look at all that magnificent blood! It's so red! So wet! So luscious! And Koenma seems to have gone for a makeover! The markings look cool, but I wish he would ditch those scars…don't worry mysterious white-tailed fox! I shall be true to you forever!"

Koenma realized with a start that Koto's description of him was accurate. Claws, tattoos, my God, I've transformed! Father, forgive me; I knew not what I did until it was too late…please, forgive me…

"Juri!" Koto cried out to the other announcer, who was hiding under some rubble, "Start the count! Give us a magnificent end to a magnificent fight!"

"Right…Well, seeing as Sakyo is currently incapacitated-"

"N..no..o. I'm not-" A slight twitching of limbs alerted the audience to Sakyo's presence.

"This is just incredible! Sakyo is actually trying to get up, even with a hole in his stomach!"

"No, you fool!" Koenma shouted out hoarsely, taking an involuntary step forward. "Don't get up! You're going to kill yourself! Announcer! End this! Make your call!" He turned back towards Sakyo. "And then I can heal you!"

But Sakyo just smirked and continued to struggle to rise. "Count, announcer, but do it fairly."

"A-alright. One, two…" A deafening silence permeated the entire stadium. Nobody spoke, nobody thought, nobody dared to breathe. For seven counts Sakyo struggled to raise his arm; his head. That's right, Koenma. Feel guilt, for you did this to me. And part of you enjoyed it. I may have had the losing hand this time; but I still have one more card to play. And it may make all the difference. Sakyo fell still, and this time Koenma couldn't stop horror from passing over his features.

"Eight, nine, TEN! And the winner of the Dark Tournament is Team Urameshi!"

Koenma was barely conscious of the pervasive cheering which filled the entire arena, and even if he had been, it wouldn't have made any difference. As soon as Juri had made the final call, his mind closed out all else but the thought I can save him. I must save him! He sprinted forwards to where Sakyo lay unmoving.

"Hold on, Sakyo! Let me help you!" he reached down to place healing hands on Sakyo's chest. But before he could, one of Sakyo's hands shot up and caught him in a vise-like grip.

"Wait," Sakyo breathed, a peculiar, frightening gleam in his eye, "did I ever mention that this new technology also gave me one other power? No? It helps me understand the minds of my…associates. Good for blackmail, too. Here, let me show you!" There was no time for Koenma to react before a stabbing pain shot through his mind.

Botan had watched the entire fight strangely detached. It was as if she, Botan, was not watching Koenma become this thing he wasn't, but rather someone else was; and she was just watching that "someone else's" reaction. It was a strange feeling that left her dazed and confused. But Botan was slowly brought back into herself when she saw that Koenma had recovered whatever it was that he had lost. But it was only when she felt the waves of guilt did she truly come out of her stupor. How silly of me, there's no need to be frightened. Oh, Koenma, sir, please be alright…

"…nine, TEN!" Botan didn't hear the rest as she was jumping and shouting for joy, crying and trying to hug everyone all at once.

"We won! We WON! I knew they could do it! Lovely job, sir! You show'd them your true mettle!"

"Uh, Botan, what's he doing now…?" Keiko broke into her nearly-delirious joy. Botan glanced back at the stadium floor, and promptly gasped.

"Oh dear, oh dear!" A glare from Keiko hurried her up. "He, I think he's going to try and heal Sakyo!"

"Heal Sakyo?! After he did such a wonderful job punching his stomach out?" Shizuru broke in, sounding surprisingly scathing.

Botan, looking hurt, couldn't find any sort of reply to the words that spoke to her own deepest fears. Luckily, Keiko came to her rescue. "Shizuru! How could you? Aren't you glad we won?"

Forestalling any kind of argument, Botan broke in, "It goes against the nature of any being from spirit world to harm, let alone kill, a human. It's our job to protect all you humans in life, and your souls after death. That goes for Koenma as well. I suspect he's torn apart over what he's done, and is now just trying to make amends…"

"Hmph! Why should he? That man is a disgusting monster who deserves to die, especially if he has no qualms about murdering those twelve poor psychics and destroying the entire human world. And that not even mentioning Genkai!"

"Yes, I…I know, it's just that…" Shizuru looked lost and hurt and Botan couldn't figure out why. Did something happen between her and Sakyo that we don't know about?

Botan's musings were cut short when Sakyo's voice - unnaturally strong and loud and even triumphant - shouted "MIND PROJECTION TECHNIQUE!" A gust of wind whipped her hair back, out of her face and Botan gasped as a dark purple-black cloud appeared around Sakyo and a rigid Koenma before suddenly exploding outward. Then everything went black.

Panic was spreading. Koto's voice could be heard shouting at Juri, Sakyo, anyone to stop this madness: the Dark Tournament was officially over, and although she lived only for these few months, once it was over, that was the end! No one was allowed to attempt anything else.

"Urameshi! Urameshi! Where are you? I can't see anything-oh! Is that you-"

"Ah! Keep still you great oaf!"

"You little punk! Watch where you wave your sword around! Oh, I can see again." And it was true. The darkness had lessoned, or perhaps it had just coalesced above them, pitching the stadium into darkness reminiscent of a movie theater. Adding even more to the movie-theater effect, high above them a large piece of dark cloud was glowing, like a movie screen, and an image was forming.

Sakyo's voice was suddenly heard over all other noise: "Ladies and Gentlemen! Demons and humans alike! I give you your beloved Lord Koenma. As a final gift to a generous audience, I REVEAL him to you!" The image focused and cleared.

It was a warm summer morn, and the village center bustled with life. It was market day, the day when farmers would come from as far as twenty miles away to sell their wares. Market Day was always one of warmth and good cheer; a festival that came once a week where men could laugh and forget the troubles of the days before. As long as you were human, that is.

Hiding behind a stack of empty crates, a young boy stood watching the cheerful bustle, but his stare was calculating, his eyes almost viscous. At first glance, you could tell he was different. Golden eyes shone with an almost unholy light, and his uncut brown hair was dirty and matted. Angled indigo tattoos curved down his cheeks, but most obvious was the "Jr" inked into the skin of his forehead, and the livid red scar that ran through it, crossing from left eyebrow to right temple.

A movement to his left alerted the boy to the presence of a cart pulled by a familiar donkey and led by a man dressed in the simple garb of a peasant. He had been handsome once, but years of hard work had darkened his skin and lined his face. But his eyes still shown with laughter and kindness – he seemed what he was, a kind and gentle man. Oddly enough, at the sight of the farmer, the boy's expression became nearly hateful, but his eyes clouded with pain. However, the boy's stomach rumbled, and he pushed away any useless emotions. Ichigaki's cart was filled with watermelons and he was hungry. It was time to put his plan into action. He vanished.

The chickens escaped their pens first, running around wildly and generally getting underfoot. Then the strays invaded the marketplace. At least fifty large dogs with foaming mouths who lunged for the chickens and jumped up upon tables and carts, snatching mouthfuls of fresh meat from the butcher or trampling on the vegetables of the farmer. Then the watermelon vendor's donkey reared up, trying to get away from something that had burned him (they later found a coal, still faintly hot) and poured all the watermelons onto the ground. In an instant the dogs were all over the smashed fruits, a brown haired boy in their midst.

"Hey! Get back here! Thief! Stop him!" But the boy ignored the shouts of the townsfolk, and just kept on running. Ichigaki looked after the boy, mournfully. "Oh child, what have you done?"

"Why did you do that to Ichigaki?" Startled, the boy looked up to see a well dressed man – a lord? – peering down at him. Hurriedly, he wiped the watermelon juices from his face.

"I was hungry." The boy's voice was flat and guarded.

"Surely you could have just asked for one? Ichigaki is a kind man – and isn't he a friend of yours?"

A sharp bark of laughter was his only reply. "Obviously you don't know much 'bout the goings-on around here, mister. I have no friends. No one gives me anything, anyway."

The stranger crouched down, so that he was at eyelevel with the boy. Taking in the worn and soiled tunic he asked softly, "And who might "me" be?"

"You haven't heard of me? And here I thought everyone knew of me." His voice was bitter, harsh. "Haven't you heard of the Demon Child, the Devil's Spawn? The Bastard Monster?"

"Ah, but is that who you are, or who others believe you to be?"

"Hmph, I don't care about your pathetic little mind games." The boy turned away.

"So you'll be whomever they want you to be? Ichigaki called you a monster in a moment of weakness, so you retaliate by destroying his only livelihood, even when his wife and unborn child are close to death? You're pathetic."

"I don't care what you think!" The boy shouted at the lord. "Just leave me alone!" With a sudden movement he turned and fled.

The demon child walked slowly along the field path. Feet scuffing the dirt and kicking rocks, he couldn't get the stranger's parting words out of his mind. So you destroyed his only livelihood, even when his wife and unborn child are close to death? Damn him! Ichigaki's proven himself to be like all the rest, so I shouldn't care! I don't care…But the child's feet had known what his brain could not accept; he found himself before Ichigaki's small home. Damn that man and his mind tricks. Damn me for falling for them. He heaved a deep sigh. I guess it wouldn't hurt to check on Shimi while no one's home.

The demon child slipped inside easily; there weren't many doors that could keep him out. Heading into the small backroom, he saw that the mysterious stranger had been right – Shimi was close to death; he could smell death in the air; see it in the pallor of her face; hear it in the faint beating of her heart. And the child – he felt a sudden jolt of horror – Shimi's child was dying too. Stunned, he could only stare numbly at the woman on the sickbed. In his own way, he cared for Shimi just as he cared for Ichigaki; even if they didn't care for him. They had given him the only kindness he ever experienced. If only there was…something…I could do…

Peering down at his clawed hands, he studied them for a moment. Long ago, he had learned how to heal things; an ironic twist of fate for the village's reviled demon. But still…Hands glowing a faint, clear blue, he placed one on Shimi's chest, the other on her abdomen. Eyes closed, he extended his senses, trying to will life back into the woman, soothing her soul; healing her body. How much time passed, the boy would never know. But when it was over, he was completely drained. He gave a satisfied smile – he could hear Shimi's heart beat, and feel her child move within her. For some reason, he found that he couldn't lift his hand from Shimi's tummy; the feeling of new life was a wonderful thing…

"What are you doing?! Get away from her!!" Ichigaki had returned, with a small company of villagers. The child-Koenma stared up, shocked and horrified. Blocking out the hateful words and accusations he fled into the forest – but this time there would be no escape.

"What the…what the hell?!" The boy was floating in mid-air, his head throbbing. "What's going on?!" Looking around wildly, his eyes widened as he caught sight of the commotion below him – a small group of humans were stabbing, kicking, and generally mauling his own body. "STOP THAT! NO!!" He charged forward, ready to give one of his assailants a taste of his fist, when he flew straight through the man. "What…?"

"How curious. I'll admit, I never expected my prodding to actually work

The boy spun around, and found himself face to face with the wealthy stranger he had met on the road. "You! What did you do to me? Why can't I stop them?! Who are you?"

"So many questions…but first, I didn't do anything, you did. You died – you're a ghost now, and without a physical body, you can't touch them. As for me, I have many names, but you may call me King Yamma."

The boy was about to reply, but a larger uproar from below caught his attention; it was Ichigaki running into the clearing.

"No! What have you done?" he shouted. "You've killed him!"

"And good riddance…"

"No, he saved my Shimi, my beloved Shimi… please, Kenshin, forgive me, forgive me. Kenshin!" Ichigaki's voice was laced with pain, and tears fell onto the demon child's still, badly injured form.

"Heh, it seems the man's gone daft from too many hours in the sun! Or have you forgotten what we do to demon-sympathizers? I think you need a lesson." Murmurs of assent followed this speech as the tormentors barreled down upon Ichigaki.

The boy – Kenshin – spun around. "Please! You have to do something! They're going to kill him. I can't let him die, not when Shimi needs him! There has to be something I can do!"

"There is nothing you can do, Kenshin. You're dead."

"Then bring me back to life!"

"I'm afraid I can't do that…"

"Fine, then I'll figure something else out!" So saying, he floated over to where Ichigaki was and tried to attack the farmer's assailants.

Yamma watched the boy thoughtfully for a moment; he was going to make a gamble here; he needed to play his cards right. If his hunch was correct, that boy could be the one he was looking for… "There might be a way…" he said casually.

"There might?! What is it? I'll do anything, just let me go back! Ichigaki can't die because of me, and I…I don't want to die yet…"

"I can bring you back, but there are two conditions," King Yamma conjured up a piece of fine parchment, covered in official-looking writing. "If you will sign your name here…"

Kenshin, whose head was switching rapidly back and forth between King Yamma and the parchment and Ichigaki, whose situation was steadily becoming more drastic, finally snapped in desperation. "Fine! Just give me that!" He snatched the paper from King Yamma's hand and taking the proffered quill wrote: Kenshin. Even before he had finished, the parchment glowed a brilliant gold, and then Kenshin himself was radiating the same aura. His last vision of King Yamma was of the man clutching the parchment, shouting, "I'll be seeing you after your sixteenth birthday; so use your time well!"

The final scenes of the story were fuzzy and blurred. There was a moment when Kenshin's body glowed golden, and then he had sprung up, and was pounding all of Ichigaki's prosecutors into the dust. Then Kenshin was helping Ichigaki stand up, and the two began to walk back towards the farmers hut, supporting each other with the calm familiarity of friends.

The scenes flickered and shifted again, too fast for the eye to catch. Then it came into focus again on the words written on a piece of parchment: In payment for the resurrection of my soul, I do abide to the following conditions, the first that upon reaching the age of sixteen human years I do agree to undergo the training and take up the mantle of Reikai Spirit Detective, and the second being that I do pledge my soul to King Yamma upon death, to use has he sees fit. Signed: Kenshin.

As the meaning of those words began to take root in Yusuke's brain, he began to feel sick. Oh God… If he had looked around him at Kuwabara, Kurama, and even Hiei, he would have seen similar expressions of shock and horror at what Koenma must have endured throughout life and death. Does that mean he was forced into his job as pacifier breath? But still, his eyes were still focused on the arena before him, where the dark clouds of Sakyo's psychic power were moving wildly, as if desperately trying to contain something.

That something became evident soon enough as Koenma's voice broke through the silence that had descended on the stadium. "NOOO! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!" What started as a scream began to deepen and resonate; a horrible physical force that made one's ears bleed and head feel like it would be crushed under the weight of the roar. The screen and dark purple clouds of Sakyo's energy were torn up and blown away, then the dust was rising and there was the sound of something large crashing and being torn to pieces.

Bye the time it was all over, a far sized section of the stadium floor and wall had been turned to small pieces of rubble and Koenma sat in a huddled mass at one end of the destruction zone, oblivious to all else. Sakyo was gone – there was nothing left of him except for the shadow of a man which had been burned into the pavement at Koenma's feet.

Thank you all so much for your lovely reviews! I'll admit, I never really understood why people were so desperate for reviews until now – but they make you feel loved!  I'm glad that I'm staying in character; not being so has always been one of my greatest fears. I hope that this chapter was enjoyable, and answered some questions, while bringing up new ones. big grin As always, if you have any questions, don't hesitate to let me know, and I'll try and clear it up. Thanks for your support!

Oh, I figure I should probably get this out of the way now - I know that King Yamma is also known as King Enma, but seeing as I'm much more familiar with the English dub I'm going to stick with that for the most part. Anyway, you will find later that some people aren't always what they seem, so Yamma/Enma's name discrepancy will be addressed (if not that important, later in the story).

SilverOsprey