Alright, so this is my first fic in a long time but I've kinda jumped ship so I haven't been focusing much in this fandom. I doubt I have any real followers anymore but a girl can hope. Also, the spacing on this site really hates me...
As for the thought itself, this is a tribute to someone I love dearly who nearly died seven years ago and includes a lot of vague references only my closest friends can even guess at so I'd prefer not to get any comments on this story.
For the record, there is a girl named Maya Kitajima who only shows up in two chapters as a classmate of Shuuichi's who gets kidnapped because of her high spirit energy. She's only in those couple extra chapters of volume 7 (see? One of those vague references I mentioned) and to my knowledge there are no official color pictures of her so I consider her a brunette because that's in keeping with the style of human females in the series. (Seriously though, count them up. Keiko, Atsuko, Kuwabara's sister. Genkai's the only other human female who has any importance in the series...)
Lastly, I own nothing except the obsession that made this writing possible.
"Can you believe it?"
The red head turned to face the brunette, perched on the edge of their bed. "Can I believe what?"
"Seven years," she stated firmly.
"Seven years?"
Brown eyes watched as he counted back mentally and she could spot the exact moment when realization dawned on him. "You still keep track?" he asked with an air of surprise which didn't fade when she nodded. "That was such a horrible event, I would think you'd want to forget how easily I might have died..."
"Well you know me," she replied as she stood. The words continued as she crossed the short distance between them. "Ever the masochist..."
His features moved towards a frown, unsure if she was joking or not, but it melted away as he took her into an embrace with the brunette's next words. "But really, it was the night I figured out I loved you." Neither needed to speak the next words, that were both good and bad.
'And I would go through the same pain every time because it helped bring us together.'
They stayed together in that embrace a couple minutes before the brunette mumbled into his chest but he caught the words anyway. "...been only three years today that Dean went to Hell."
His response was a well practiced one, as hers would also be. "You're too obsessed."
"There's no such thing."
I couldn't help pulling in my own latest interest (read as obsession) and anyone who knows without being told should look into my new stuff coming out because I've lost nearly all inspiration for yyh anymore. I'm still totally hooked, I just don't like the ideas I'm coming up with these days.
Again, I'd rather you didn't review though I can't really stop you if you choose to do so.
Peace from this series.
