Too Young to Be a Mother
by Ink Namida
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Yu Yu Hakusho, though minor characters are from my own imagination and any relationship those characters may have to real people is purely fictional. All plot events from Yu Yu Hakusho and characters belong to Funimation, Yoshihiro Togashi, and some Japanese animation studio, and as such, do not belong to me. The events taking place in this story do generally belong to me, but I am not making any money off of this, as it is merely a fanfic posted on the internet. Should said Japanese animation studio or Togashi decide to read this fanfic and have it published, then maybe I will make money, but that seems highly unlikely, and I would never get money from this without the owner/director's consent. So, don't sue. Oh, and the idea for the first chapter title comes from Tenchi Muyo, which I do not own, but I doubt that the "No Need for" is actually copyrighted, and again, I am not profiting from this, but if the owners of Tenchi Muyo complain (as if, I would actually be honored if they did because that means they have read this unworthy story), I will be willing to change the chapter title.
Chapter One: No Need for Introductions
"Hey there handsome, why don't you be a good boy and buy me a drink." The woman who slides onto the bar seat next to me was attractive, for a human. She has silky brown hair down to her nicely shaped breasts, easily visible in the tiny lacy black top she wears. She, and the thugs eyeing us, reek of trouble. The sweet, alcohol and cigarette laced scent is enough of an indication without the faint trace of demon on her. She had to be in fairly close contact with one recently, but she didn't know that or else she would have had the sense to stay far away from me. Then again, if the silly bitch was smart, she would never approach me anyways, not with the glare I'm giving her.
These thoughts flash through my head in the amount of time it takes her to blink down at me. Damn, she's an inch or two taller. I know what she's after, and getting shaken down by some stupid mob chick in a seedy bar while I wait for the Yoko to gather up some friends to get drunk with is definitely not how I want to spend my vacation.
"Quiet type, eh?" She lights up a cigarette casually and exhales the noxious smoke before addressing me again. "Look, you've got two options. Either you take me out, we get drunk, have a really good time at your place and I leave your life silently in the morning with your wallet, or you go over there, kick those guy's asses, and I end up explaining how you're too dangerous to mess with anyways."
Her thoughts explain things better, and I'm very glad I have my mild telepathic abilities. The Yakuza want her to prove her "loyalty" by seducing any mark they choose, and apparently I look like the meanest little cranky bastard in the joint.
If times had been different, if I hadn't changed over these past four years, I would have just killed them all and burnt the entire district to cinders for good measure. The candle flame on the thugs' table releases a momentary urge to do just that, but I'm stronger and am no longer ruled by such petty desires. And there's something about this human, something that entices me. Maybe it's that whiff of demon scent on her, or her offer of "forbidden" acts. Damn Mukuro!
(A/N: I'm trying to solve a little problem I encountered while first drafting this fic. Hiei started thinking in a possibly psychotic way, and I didn't like using incomplete thought processes as a plot device, but I'd still like their narrations to give a glimpse of the character. Wait, was there a plot?)
To her, there's been no delay to my reply, other than to shift my glance to the thugs for a second, and as I speak for the first time since ordering my inferior sake, a sexy little smile blooms on her face.
"How about I take option number three, beat the crap out of them, and then take you someplace a little more, private, than here?" Somehow I manage to resist the urge to tell her that if she tried to steal my money, I don't even carry a wallet, and I'd have to leave her tied up on the bed.
With a quick glance out of the corner of her eye to her boys, she winks at me before pushing off of the bar. With a yelp and the helpless flailing of her smooth, pale arms, the woman and her bar stool fall to the floor. As she starts yelling curses at me, I realize that it's my cue in this farce.
Sliding off of my stool deliberately and without the uncanny speed I normally display, I see that the Yakuza are already on their feet. Two to the left, three to the right blocking the door. Some are apprehensive for the apparently unknown cause of the woman's current state, rubbing her head from where it hit the floor. One grins and cracks his knuckles, thinking that his extra foot and a half on me will be to his advantage. Fools.
I used to hate "street-scrapping," as Yuusuke once put it, but it is an effective way to knock out a small group of humans without seriously injuring them or resorting to the jagan. I ponder this as I bring the first on the left down with a quick knee to the stomach and a follow-up kick to the head. I'm on the second before the rest can even realize what's happening. A single right hook to his chin knocks him out, leaving only the three behind me. I use a burst of my superior speed to swing a round-house kick, pulled enough that it leaves them slightly dazed but doesn't cave their skulls in. Now that I am facing them, I deliver a "strong" punch to the stomach of the punk who's still grinning even though his eyes won't focus, and then he's out too. A short jump brings me up between the heads of the remaining goons. Simultaneously, my feet connect with their heads and I land as they fall, noses bleeding and both unconscious.
"So fast, wow..." She seems breathless, as though she had held it for the whole fight. I thought I had slowed down enough for the fight to seem more normal, but maybe... "fifteen seconds. I swear I knew you had that look on you, but you sure hold a lot of surprises."
She casually bribes the bartender with a hundred dollar bill, pure American. Motioning for silence with an index finger poised over her cherry lips, she adds, "Buy a round for everyone, will ya pops?" With the thugs out, and the arm casually draped on my shoulder indicating that we are leaving, "everyone" meant three people who probably didn't care anyways. During this exchange, I have noticed that her leather wallet seems a little masculine for a babe like her, and my suspicions are confirmed a moment later as she hands the wallet to me. The smiling thug's face stares at me from the ID card inside.
I eye her suspiciously and she smiles shyly. "I picked their pockets; you don't have a wallet on you, so I'll just hand this back later, without the ID, and say I thought it was yours."
It intrigues me that I never actually saw her pick their pockets, which is no small feat with me... wait, wallet? "How did you know all I have is pocket change?" No need to let on that I have more than that.
"In those tight pants?" Again with that sexy, knowing smile. Before I can stop her, a hand slips with some difficulty into my back pocket, and she gives a small squeeze before withdrawing. "Come on handsome! You've got enough to buy me dinner now, and we can get wasted at your place afterwards." As she walks away from me, expecting me to follow her, I am left with a nice view of her ass and the sudden realization that I have just ditched a fox for a vixen. His reaction when he finds out should prove interesting.
I catch up to her, slowly for me, and make a suggestion, "There's a diner not far from here."
"Yukimura's?" My only response is a slight nod. "Can't, I know them and I don't really want the entire town to know what I've been up to." Only in hindsight would I realize how important that comment was.
Midnight finds us coiled together under the sheets of some clean hotel whose name I forgot two minutes after arriving. We did "party" a little, playing Jan Ken Pon with an alcohol bet. She became progressively drunker with each swig of sake, since she kept losing. Her pride wouldn't let her stop until she got too drunk to continue playing, after all, I'd never lose at a game like that. We cooled down for an hour watching some bizarre late-night game show. She sobered up enough for us to move the party to the uncomfortably small bed.
Now she is laying half on top of me, those sweet breasts pressed against me, as she tried to pour herself a glass of champagne. I just love the way her skin is flawless except for the oddly shaped twin scars on either side of her abdomen. She's a refreshing change from the scarred bitch who was my last lover.
"Yeh know," she pauses in this new attempt at speech, I had been stopping her with a kiss and renewed lovemaking for the last hour, but I'm too tired to do that again, so I let her continue. "I uzuelly man'ge t' get guy drunk so I nev'r achually have t' sleep with 'em, but ya gots me. Yer diff'rent."
("I usually manage to get guys drunk so I never actually have to sleep with them, but you got me. You're different." - for those who can't make sense of my pathetically slurred speech.)
"With that game?" I'm not drunk enough to slur my speech.
"Or 'nother."
"I was cheating." She giggles, a sound similar to, but not quite as pleasing as my sister's. Obviously she doesn't think it's possible to cheat at that game.
Her groan after she stops takes me by surprise, and though it's not the first of the night, I tense up and try to find the reason why she's upset so suddenly.
"I know im gonna 'gret this 'n teh mornin'." False alarm, silly thing. "'F I slep with uh guy, I make zhur they'sn't, yah know... d'fec... d'fective... an' I don' 'ven knows yer name!"
("I know I'm going to regret this in the morning." "If I sleep with a guy, I make sure they aren't, you know... defective... and I don't even know your name!")
"Hiei." I grunt, hoping she falls asleep soon so I can get the hell outta here.
"Mm Atsuko." She is quiet, but too tense to be asleep. "No pro'lems, righ'? No STD's or anythin'?"
("I'm Atsuko. No problems, right? No STD's or anything?")
"None." I know I can't catch anything she could have, so it hasn't worried me in the least. Silly ningen.
She downs her last glass of champagne and manages to set it down before she finally submits to the will of my veiled jagan eye and she falls asleep. The fact that it took five whole minutes should have been ample warning, but when I awaken some time later and leave as she still sleeps, beams of sunlight hitting her naked body, I am ignorant of its importance.
A/N: Originally I had her speak without the slurred voice, but I kinda like being able to "hear" a characters voice in the story, so I added in some slurring. However, I have never heard a real drunk person speak, so I don't think it's that good. I am open to suggestions to make that effect smoother, including just using the text in parenthesis and just saying she's not speaking very clearly. Please review, though I don't deserve it for the amount of stories I've been reading lately without reviewing myself. I am very open to constructive criticism, and if I don't address plot holes within three chapters, please start reminding me so that I can keep track of them. I am human, I forget things. Oh, and I may have problems with tense changes. Some things should be past tense, but for the most time it is in present. If I missed anything in my edit, please let me know. That's my weak point when it comes to grammar.