Disclaimer: I do not own Yu Yu Hakusho…

Please excuse any typos or grammatical error! There will be a lot!

Thank you for checking out this story! I really hope you grow to love it as much as I do!

*Has been edited as of October of 2016.

Thanks for reading!

I was a bitch when I died; there's really no other way of saying it.

I'm sorry if that's not the poetic masterpiece you were expecting from me. It must be disappointing that I wasn't a saint and that people wouldn't mourn my selfless nature. It must be disappointing that I wasn't like other teenagers who pass before their life really starts.

But my death was disappointing like that, too.

I wish I could say I died for a good cause, like selflessly jumping in front of my best friend as someone shot at him, or getting hit by a car whilst saving an injured puppy.

Oh no. I died in a way that was so ridiculous, so strange, so... impossible that no one could ever really figure out how it all had happened.

Now, I could just save myself the embarrassment of telling you what happened, but I decided that at least one person should know how I really departed from the world of the living. Listen up, because I'm only saying this once - and I mean it.

It was all because of a cat. And an empty beer can.

And a snake.

I woke up late that morning at seven instead of six, which was when I had, accidentally, set my alarm. I was literally jumping out of bed and peeling off my sleeping clothes before I even got to the bathroom.

I skipped my scheduled mirror check, lacking the time, and, frankly, the preparation to analyze my reflection, and then I grabbed my toothbrush and tuned the shower in on hot. I hated brushing my teeth in the shower, mostly because my spit always got all over my chest, but I didn't really have many options.

I was usually running late, but more often than not that was due to my sluggish routine of getting dressed and not sleeping in.

When I finished shampooing and conditioning, I flung the curtain open so fast that one of the rings got caught, causing the shower bar to collapse in on itself with a crash. Wet, cold, and naked, I decided to leave it until that night when I had more spare time.

Of course, I'd also forgotten to flick the fan on, so the bathroom mirror was fogged up. My towels were wadded up in moist balls on the tile floor. I grabbed a dirty one, returned to my room, and promptly banged my head against the wall in frustration - I couldn't find anything to wear, despite my mountain of clothes that over-filled my walk-in closet.

I ended wearing a grey t-shirt, a black athletic jacket, and black leggings that I'd worn every other day that week - and don't tell anyone that, because the only one who noticed was my mum when she saw the lack of jeans in my laundry. I could still pull a couple more wears out of my ass yet.

I spent the majority of my time on my make-up, which was not a work of art in the slightest, and the rest on my hair, which I was forced to knot in a messy bun due to an extreme lack of cooperation.

At the time when I was finally down the stairs, I saw my mum pull out of the driveway, at an illegal speed, and roll off, the slush and snow crunching under her tires. I noticed quite bitterly that the only thing she left me for breakfast was a dirty plate and an empty glass of milk, so I grabbed a granola bar and prayed it would hold me over until lunch. I smacked on my winter boots and hopped to the door, momentarily leaving my backpack and duffel bag in our mudroom. I braced myself before heading out in the barren winter wasteland of my front yard, hurrying to our separated garage-shed. The snow was old, but my family almost never shoveled our sidewalks, so I was forced to muddle through thick snow.

I flung the shed door open so quickly that I didn't stop to think about Calcifer - my sister's cat. He was huddled behind the door, as he often did, and I stepped on his tail. He hissed and completely shredded my leg, until he contacted bone (warning: slight exaggeration).

"Stupid cat!" I wailed, flinging him off with a kick. He just hissed again and recuperated behind our freezer. My sister, Eydie, was the one who had begged our mum to get a cat, under the condition that she'd take care of him, and she promised she would - But of course, that meant that I'd take care of him. Eydie hardly ever fed the poor thing, and she never cleaned his litter box. And despite the glaring fact that I was the one who took care of him, he totally hated me. What a little ingrate.

I fed Calcifer less than the recommended amount, noting how fat and heavy he was becoming recently. Mum gave him daily afternoon treats during her lunch hour.

I checked my phone, swore because it was already a quarter-to eight, and ran back inside to grab my bags. When I ran up my driveway, the bus was already pulling out. Thankfully my waving and screaming caught the driver's attention and the next thing I knew, I was on my way to school.

Well? Obviously, I knew something important was going to happen that day. Obviously.

School was the same as always. Just regular, senior classes. Focusing on my first three had been a struggle once more, and the day was hardly half over.

Lunch was bearable, but I somehow managed to get three-fourths of my food on my jacket.

Lizzie and Tye, my friends, often teased me about my clumsiness.

"I'll bring Sarah's bib tomorrow," Lizzie jokingly promised, pointing her fork at the stain on my sleeve. Sarah was her two-year old sister, who had the same frizzy red hair and freckles. I made a face at Lizzie to show my lack of appreciation for the dig.

Tye took a giant bite of his sandwich, mayo oozing out the sides of his mouth.

"Are you coming over today?" He asked with his mouth full.

"After practice," I confirmed. Tye and I were practically neighbors, what with only living two houses away. We'd been friends as long as I could remember. A couple of times a week, I went over to his house to play one on one, since he had a hoop in his driveway. I had one in our garage, but it was always full of cars.

In addition, stepping on Calcifer was a regular occurrence, and there was no way he wouldn't try and attack my ankles. Several times, I've tried to take giant leaps away from him so I wouldn't hurt him, only to have him dart in the wrong direction and right under my foot. I broke his foreleg once, and Eydie still hadn't forgiven me, even when I explained to her that it was his own fault.

Sometimes accidents happened.

I had gym last block, so I changed into loose basketball clothes.

Our P.E. teacher was the head football coach, Couch Lure, and was well-respected. He understood how to differently push the kids in sports and the kids who didn't think athletics were their cup of tea. He gave equal attention to both.

After a few laps and light lifting, the students all waited in line for the final test in our current unit - archery. That's how our P.E. class was structured; light workouts in the first half of the block, then fun and informational lessons in a number of common sports. Last week had been badminton.

Normally, with these unit tests every week, Coach Lure couldn't grade by skill. However, archery didn't require a lot of strength, just technique and practice, so that was all we were tested on.

We were tasked with shooting along each target line in order, on the target, on until a bullseye, and then we worked our way back. We went as far as we could, and we were only allowed three misses.

I was one of four who made it to a three on my way back, which tied me for second. Not that it was a competition, but it's something all students keep track of for bragging rights. And, okay, I was a little competitive.

Lizzie, who was in the class with me, made it all the way back to one.

"Just don't overdraw," she instructed me after I retreated from the line. I was happy with how I did, but I felt like my three misses were rookie mistakes. I had just rushed, and I was kicking myself for it.

"Yeah, yeah, I hear you, Robin Hood," I playfully punched her in the arm. Lizzie moved here in our fifth year, but it felt like she had been with me at birth. We did everything together, except for sports. She played tennis.

The bell rang and I stayed behind in the gym.

"See you tomorrow," Lizzie waved to me, making her way to the locker room.

"What the hell are you doing, Faye?" Coach Thundermen barked. Our playing abruptly came to a stop.

Thundermen's hands were bigger than my head, and his neck was bulging like it always did when he was pissed. At me. Like usual.

"Get your ass over here!" he spewed at me. Scowling, I bounced the ball in my hands to a wing, Erika. She held it for me, snickering.

"What do you think you're doing out there?" Thundermen thundered. So much for calling me over for privacy. "We've been scrimmaging for twenty minutes and you haven't once ran the play right. If I see you shoot one more time when you could have passed it, your ass will hit the bench so hard that you'll have to ice it!"

"Well, it's Rachel's fault for not screening! Candy can get right back on Paige, so giving her the balls an automatic turnover! You know she can't dribble!" I spat. Don't get me wrong, I liked those girls ninety percent of the time, but I didn't like losing. Not even a scrimmage. Thundermen's scowl deepened and his face grew red.

"I don't want your weak-ass excuses! You're smart, Faye, so use your fucking head!" He slapped his board. "Now get back there and actually run the play for once, Hotshot!"

Grumbling, I went back to the top of the key and signaled Erika for the ball back. She was reluctant, but passed it back nonetheless. We butted heads sometimes, her and I, since we both played the same position.

As point guard, I was quite happy to control where the ball went. But then I also felt frustrated because I couldn't really do much down low - because of this, I had been reluctant to try out for the position. However, seeing Erika's face get red inspired me to do it, and to give it my all. She had been so pissed at me. It was hilarious.

Practice was over early because half the team had a choir concert that night. I wasn't in choir because I sang like a dying cat, so I went straight to Tye's. As I approached his house, I noticed him the driveway. He greeted me with a jerk of his head. I finally got close enough to see the pavement over the hill of snow: Well, actually I didn't see pavement.

I groaned. "It snowed during school?"

"Yep," Tye deadpanned, hefting snow with his shovel. He must have just started because he wasn't even halfway done. "We might need to play in a little more than sweatpants. Like maybe our boots," he joked, transferring white dust to his covered yard from his partially covered driveway.

"Still wanna play later?" I inquired. We've played through worse, but it was getting kind of dark. Tye took a break and eyed the setting sun.

"Probably shouldn't. Either way, it's my turn on the chore list," he grumbled. He had two younger and two older siblings, and their mum used an organized list to make sure chores actually got done without fights. It was quite the rowdy house, if you can imagine, what with five growing boys.

"I'll go get my shovel," I offered, already making my way across our neighbor's sidewalk. He nodded in thanks and returned to his digging. I headed straight into my garage, dropping my bags inside immediately because they got rather heavy.

And I forgot about Calcifer. Again.

My shoe bag hit him in his face, and he recoiled with a vicious, self-preserving hiss. He darted for the door, his pure white fur disappearing against the snow.

"Shit!" I stumbled, nearly tripping over him. I felt the slap of wind hit me in my face as I dashed back outside, looking left and right. I saw Tye pause his shoveling in curiosity.

"Sorry, Tye!" I shouted "Calcifer got out again. Eydie will throw a tantrum if I don't find him!"

"That's fine, I don't think I'll need help this time," he answered.

I circled my house, but he wasn't under the porch, where he usually hid when he managed to get out. I sighed in defeat. It wasn't my fault Calcifer had gotten hit, but he wouldn't have aimed for escape outside if it was anyone other than me. Eydie would cry for days and scream about how much she hated me. She really needed to grow up one of these days; she was already nine.

I was just giving up and about to retrieve my bags when I suddenly realized what an idiot I could be sometimes. It had literally just snowed. Calcifer had left tracks in the snow, leading in the opposite direction of Tye. I made sure to lock the garage, and took off after the path.

"Great," I muttered, kicking an empty beer can out of my path. I was in my favorite part of town, where homeless men smoked cigarettes in alleyways and colorful women exposed too much skin, especially now, when it was snowing. I was surprised that I hadn't lost Calcifer's prints yet, since I had wasted so much time checking around my porch. It could have easily been disrupted.

Unfortunately, it was too good to last. The tracks took a turn down an alley that was wind blocked. The only snow that was noticeable dusted the ground like sugar. I could just barely make out little paw prints, but I didn't follow them.

A woman, who was hardly any older than I was, took leisurely, swaying steps in my direction. Her legs were only shielded by black nylons and blue stilettos, and a blue dress squeezed her waist so tightly that I could see her jutted hip bones through her light coat.

She couldn't have been older than nineteen, a year older than me, but the ridiculous amount of makeup she donned made her look twenty-five or twenty-six at first glance. Her dark, smooth skin was splattered with glitter and eyeliner, but it was messy and smudged. Her thick lips were coated in red, and her black hair was pulled back in a high ponytail. One of her hands was in her pocket, and the other held a cigarette.

Her profession wasn't hard to guess.

Standing there like a shocked, naïve little girl, I stared at her. Her blue eyes were clear and vibrant, and they stunningly stood out against her dark skin. She was glaring straight at me, and her gait turned purposeful.

I turned around and backed out of the alleyway, not caring if Calcifer was ever found again.

Hopefully, I hadn't appeared as intimidated as I felt. I didn't do intimidation.

I was three steps away from the bridge when it happened.

Okay, guys, pay attention.

See, the bridge, Helena's Bridge, wasn't very big. It drops maybe about thirty feet into three feet of water, which is about as deep as Helena's River ever got. That was why, even in this side of town, no one really jumped from it to commit suicide. It would be way too painful, and it would probably fail. The bridge was supported by foot-wide pillars, a favorite sleeping spot for many a homeless man. You could stay protected and hidden, which was ideal. Everything is white in the winter, since the black iron of the railing is covered in snow, and the gray stone is washed out.

The bridge was back the way I had come, since I'd already crossed it in my search for the demon cat. And I had to cross it again to get home.

If I had been just three steps farther onto the bridge, where the railing was high and secure instead of just starting, nothing would have happened to me, besides maybe a scraped knee and a sore head.

Well, here goes.

Calcifer, it seemed, had taken the same path as I had. That is to say, he'd started up that alleyway and had turned back onto the bridge. I didn't think a glaring prostitute would have scared him, so he must have just smelled something foul.

But I didn't know this, nor did I expect it. I had stopped paying attention to the ground, since I was no longer following his tracks, and hadn't noticed the second pair of tracks.

And maybe if I hadn't given up the search, I would have noticed him there on the bridge. But I guess karma works like that, doesn't it?

But I hadn't really done anything to deserve this.

For maybe the hundredth time, I stepped on Calcifer's bushy white tail. And for maybe the hundredth time, he freaked out and attacked my legs. But out there, in the wide open, where I had never thought he would be, I couldn't form the thought, 'It's just the stupid cat'. No, for whatever reason, I freaked out as well.

I swore again, jumping away, my heel coming down on the sidewalk… or something else. Immediately, I lost my balance, realizing from a scraping sound that it was the beer can I had kicked earlier. I fell onto my back, but I didn't land. I felt my legs and feet swing over my head, and suddenly I was wrong-side up, wind rushing past my ears to the point where they popped. I was falling, right where the bridge began, where there was no railing. Stupid contractors.

In a panic, I shot my arms out. By mere luck my hand caught hold of a supporting beam from underneath, which had many corners and crevasses. My arm was nearly jerked out of its socket as my feet returned to being underneath me. I was swinging back and forth, and my heart was pounding so quickly that it hurt. I let out a cry of help, and kept crying. The incoming footsteps didn't register in my brain.

I attempted to save myself.

I strained my muscles and tried to pull myself up. The snow froze my finger, making them go numb and messing with my hold. I readjusted my grip.

Okay, so animals never really liked me. I couldn't tell you why, but maybe it was because I wasn't very careful around them. When I had readjusted my grip, I accidentally squashed something soft, smooth, cold, and slick. Pain erupted in my wrist, and I screamed again, the fear making it hurt even worse. My hand was on fire.

I let go with my first hand, cradling it to my chest. It took several, arm tearing swings of my body to tell me that I shouldn't have done that. My other hand slipped.

Everything before had happened so quickly that I could hardly understand what was happening, but as I fell for real, time seemed to slow down.

'This can't be happening', I thought. I stared up at the bridge as it slowly drifted farther and farther away. At least I hadn't fallen with my face down, because I don't think I could've handled watching the water get closer.

My eyes were blurry from tears and fear, but a strange flash of color held their focus. The last thing I ever saw was blue, blue eyes staring at me in shock from up on the bridge.

Then everything was white and cold.

I'm sorry if she's a mary-sue! I do plan on developing her until I can hide that fact really well. Hopefully, I'll get some dark undertones in and, hopefully, this really takes off. I really like my oc here, even though I purposely made her a cocky, overconfident 'hotshot'. I do plan to develop her of course, just stick with it!

~Lin