"Monsters"

If Shizuru Kuwabara missed anything—beyond a return to the world as it once was, with friends and family and the feeling of feeling safe in her own home—it was cigarettes. Damn, but she missed them. She had risked everything on more than one occasion just to scavenge through the shops and gas stations for a pack or two. It was dangerous, going outside on her own, but she supposed it wasn't much safer inside, caught off guard or even turned during a light nap. That would be the worst way to go—waking up as one of them. No blaze of glory, no last stand. She wouldn't even be able to take down any of the monsters with her.

She was sitting at their round bistro table reading the newspaper when Kazuma barged in. She hadn't seen him in awhile—sometimes their schedules just worked out like that—and without a greeting or anything he pulled a small piece of paper from his pocket and pressed it to their closed front door.

"Kazuma, this is unusual even for you."

Her brother continued to rush around their apartment, tacking up small slips of paper to the windows and doors. "…Are those wards?"

"Yeah—don't look at me like that," he said, rubbing at a smudge of dirt on his chin. "They're set up to keep the bad things out, and right now there are a lot of bad things out there. Most people can't even see them, they're these demon insects that get in your ear—"

"You mean like that?" Shizuru asked, calmly rolling up the paper and swatting a bug down onto the table, hitting it again when its legs twitched faintly. They stared at it, and then each other.

"Sis, that's gross. We eat on that table."

It didn't take much prodding for him to tell her everything. When it got dark they pulled the blinds closed and sat on the couch, facing each other. Kazuma stretched out, while Shizuru drew her legs up towards her chest. It made her feel younger.

"There are demons much bigger than those flies—I should know, I fought against one. We all did. A-and Urameshi lost, damn it! Suzaku tore him apart," he said, shuddering. "There was an explosion, we heard him scream, and then—nothing. Half of the building started to cave in, and it was already looking bad for us."

He took a few shallow breaths. "Hiei ran. The bastard disappeared, and left just two of us against an army. I owe Kurama my life, or else I'd never have gotten out." Shizuru sat on the couch and listened. She wondered just what kind of organization would be foolish enough to put the fate of the world in the hands of a couple of street brawlers and two criminals.

"And now the flute is gone—we failed. Remember that demon insect? If one gets you, it takes over. You become mindless, violent. I saw some of them on my way here. Those wards should keep the bugs out, but I don't know about the people."

"So the bugs turn you into zombies," she said, turning the words over again in her mind. "Sounds like you guys really screwed up."

"That's why I've got to fix it." He balled his hands into fists, curling his fingers in towards his palms. She could plainly see the bruises on his knuckles; she traced them up to a long scrape on his forearm. He didn't even try to hide the injuries, instead wearing them like a badge. "Whatever it takes."

They had both gone to see Kurama the next day. They were fortunate enough to get there just early enough to catch him before he had left the city. They left his mother with the suitcases in the living room and Kurama led the way to their study so they could talk in private.

"You're leaving too?" Kazuma threw his hands up, scratching absently at his hair.

"She thinks it's a spontaneous vacation," Kurama said. He tucked his hands in his pockets, looking his friend in the eye without a trace of remorse. "I have to protect my family, you know that."

Kazuma nodded; he understood that commitment. "According to Koenma the outbreak is concentrated in the city center, but spreading fast. If you see any of the demon bugs, you destroy them."

"I can do better than that," Kurama said, motioning them to follow him into his bedroom. It was plain and neat, with minimal personal objects—as if it was designed to attract as little attention as possible. He crossed the room to his wardrobe, and opened a sliding panel that was disguised with drawer-handles to match the rest of the piece. "Any plants that you want or medicine that you need—you're welcome to them. Take as many as you like."

"…Plants?" Curious, Shizuru crouched down to look into the vault. It contained packages and vials lined up in neat rows.

After a quick look to Kazuma, Kurama knelt beside her and started removing several handfuls of items. "This one immobilizes. That one will heal burns, and this one speeds recovery of any illness. These leaves are razor-sharp, and those, right there, contain high explosives."

Shizuru nodded, searching through the cabinet again. "Got any other types of plants? Recreational ones—?"

Kazuma coughed, scooping up the plants into his backpack. Shizuru slipped a few into the pockets of her jacket. "Stay safe," Kazuma said, shaking hands with Kurama. "And…thanks."

"Don't mention it." They left the room and Kurama closed the door behind them. "No, really… don't mention it. Secret double-life to uphold and all." They watched Kurama and his mother load their suitcases into their car and drive off, refusing his offer of a ride back home. Walking was risky, but it gave them the opportunity to take out any of the demon bugs they saw along their way. Besides, Shizuru could tell that Kurama made the offer just to be polite—the real message was simple: they were on their own.

At first they were alone; when they left the wealthier area for the denser center of the city they began to see other groups of people shuffling along on the sidewalks, clinging together against the unknown. Most people couldn't see the insects that caused the outbreak, but there was no escaping the other humans that were affected by it. Shizuru followed her brother across an intersection and then down a side street. Nearly all of the shops that lined the street were closed; Shizuru stepped into the last one, nodded at the cashier, and started to hunt through what was left on the shelves. They were nearly out of snacks.

"Okubo? Hey, is that you?" Kazuma had been lounging against the side of the building outside when he saw them. Blue uniforms, messy hair—he recognized the other members of his gang right away. They lurched closer, muttering a little—something indistinguishable, low and a little like growling—and Kazuma straightened up, moving in-between his friends and the store. They continued to advance, the bluish tinge to their skin accentuated by dark circles and a series of bruises down each of their arms.

"Kirishima! Sawamura! Sorry I haven't been in school the past few days—you know how things are. One minute you're studying geometry and the next, the school becomes a haven for zombies…" He thought about laughing, remembering the videos Suzaku had shown them of the school, but then he remembered the rest of the fight, and of his best friend, twice-dead, and it didn't seem so funny.

"Shizuru, stay inside."

It was three against one. Their advantage was their number; if he was sloppy they could easily overpower him. He was the better fighter, so he would have to make each hit count. And besides, he had his secret weapon. "Spirit Sword!"

Okubo staggered towards him and like a batter he swung low and struck, sending him reeling backwards and clutching his stomach. Spinning, Kazuma thrust forward, piercing Sawamura in the shoulder. He almost missed; his aim was terrible—looking into the zombielike faces of his former friends made him want to turn around and run. Then he thought of Shizuru, and the shopkeeper in the store, and any others he would save, and carried on.

Pawing at the air, Okubo came rushing back at him, and this time Kazuma didn't miss. He plunged his sword in and yanked it savagely to one side, stepping back to avoid the worst of the spray. Planting one foot firmly on the ground, he kicked at Sawamura, following with two harsh strikes of his sword. Sawamura fell.

There was a third… where was Kirishima? He turned a fraction too late, before he felt the talon-like grip behind him. Kirishima had jumped on him, kicking at his legs and scrabbling at his shoulders and hair. Kirishima had always been more of a wrestler… on the floor Kazuma knew he would be very vulnerable. Discarding his sword for the moment, he reached up and grasped Kirishima's arms with his hands and flipped him over one shoulder, stumbling forwards a little when Kirishima struggled to hold on to him.

There was nothing in his eyes—no light, no depth, no perception at all. There was only cruelty and anger; his friends were gone from him. Kirishima landed smoothly and turned, ready to fight back, and Kazuma reached out, fingers scratching in the dirt for the sword that rested just out of his reach.

Kirishima leapt towards him.

He never made it, because he never saw Shizuru coming. With both hands on the grip of the store-brand frying pan, she swung, smashing it into the side of Kirishima's face. He reeled to one side, nose clearly broken, keening and gasping for breath.

For a moment Kazuma just stared at her.

"Well, what are you waiting for!" she shouted. "Get your sword."

Some days more than others, Kazuma Kuwabara really loved his sister.

Several days passed, where they subsided on the snacks that Shizuru had bought from the store. The city was in chaos, and they had a feeling that whatever was being done to contain the matter wasn't the same as trying to stop it. They spent each afternoon, when the sun was the brightest, killing the insects that continued to swarm through the streets, searching for people who had yet to be turned. And when they found anyone who had been turned, they fought back.

Kazuma figured that when the zombies couldn't find people to destroy they turned against each other; as the days passed the remaining ones were even more violent and harder to bring down. All the same it had become routine, like practicing at a skill or hobby.

That night, Kazuma was chasing Eikichi around their apartment—besides being confined indoors the cat slept far too much to really notice anything different—when he heard the knock on the door. It came again, and Eikichi sniffed the air, leaning forward to investigate the sound.

Keeping the chain still locked on the door he opened it a fraction, just enough to peer out into the hallway. He didn't recognize the man in the hallway at all. It had been awhile since they had visitors, but for all he knew this guy might have been a friend of Shizuru's. "D-Do I know you?"

The man fussed with his red cape, frowning up at the sliver of Kazuma that he could see around the door. "It's Koenma! You know—Prince of the Spirit World?" He sighed and pointed to his blue pacifier. "If you don't recognize me, I'm sure you recognize this."

Kazuma's eyes widened in understanding; he felt the sides of his lips creep up into a smile. It had been one of the first he could remember in the past several days. So the guy he had seen on Yusuke's communicator had finally come to see him—he had known it would happen eventually. "You aged up but kept the pacifier? Your call man, but that's just weird."

Kazuma let him in, shutting and locking the door behind them. Shizuru was asleep so they had the main room to themselves. Eikichi danced around them as they sat down, seeking acknowledgement, but Koenma kept his hands firmly clasped together in his lap. Kazuma thought it made him look penitent.

"Please, tell me something good," Kazuma said. Koenma looked tired, eyes dark-shadowed and red-rimmed as if he hadn't slept for days.

"We have a few leads—that's why I've come here." Koenma shifted uncomfortably in his chair, trying his best to hold on to his pride. "I need your help to set things right—things in the Human World have really gone to hell, and I know hell."

Kazuma had been thinking a lot about their failed mission. Some nights he couldn't sleep—he knew that when he shut his eyes he'd see Yusuke's face, shiny with sweat and scrapes on his chin. He'd feel the sear of every fireball that missed him by inches and choke on the dust and smoke that fell thickly like rain.

"Even if you didn't want my help, you'd get it," he said, his voice soft. "I'll do whatever it takes to end this nightmare."

He scribbled a note in thick black marker and left it over the empty carton of cigarettes she had placed on her dresser. He knew if he even tried to talk to her she'd scold him for not leaving earlier, or just for being weak. They'd both been somber since he'd come back alone, but at times like this he knew the sister he recognized would resurface.

The sun woke her up, and Shizuru turned over in her bed, stretching. Her arms were still sore; it was disappointing how slowly scrapes and sore muscles healed. Going over to her dresser and sifting through the drawers, she noticed the letter addressed to her.

I'm leaving to go save the world—be back soon. Stay safe, stay inside, and take care of Eikichi.

She picked the note up and tossed it aside. "Kazuma, you idiot," she murmured, sighing as the cat ambled inside, cocking its head as if it too was wondering where her brother had gone.

If Shizuru Kuwabara missed anything—beyond a return to the world as it once was, with friends and family and the feeling of feeling safe in your own home—it was cigarettes. Damn, but she missed them. It was dangerous, going outside on her own, but she supposed it wasn't much safer than being inside alone. That afternoon she slipped outside, leaving behind plenty of food and water for the cat. It was just one trip—hopefully the corner store had plenty of cartons left, and maybe some beer or junk food to round everything out.

The street was empty; all she had to do to get to the store was cross it. She darted across, ready to disappear into the darkened store, but just before she made it Shizuru turned around, catching something moving fast in the corner of her eyes. "Another human…?" Before she could get another word out, the black-clad man had reached her. With one swift chop of his arm at her neck, she fainted—everything else was turning dark far too quickly, fading into nothingness before she even had a chance at fighting back.

When the light came it was harsh and unyielding. Shizuru was lying on a mattress placed directly on the ground. There was nothing else in the room; three of the walls were plain and undecorated. The fourth was made entirely of metal bars that stretched from floor to ceiling. She was trapped.

She was still wearing her jacket but the messenger bag she had brought had been taken away. It was empty; she had only brought it along to hold supplies. She sighed, relieved that at least they hadn't searched her pockets or taken her jacket away. If they had, they would have been in for quite a surprise.

Shizuru poked her head out through the bars as far as she could; there were six cells like hers that she could see, and one of them was occupied. She was about to call out to the other girl when another door opened and two people walked in. They had to be demons—Kazuma had told her enough about them that she could recognize them for what they were. These two were tall with bulky muscles and patches of fur on their chests and hands.

"Alright girl, it's your turn." They opened the other girl's cell and dragged her outside. Watching, stunned, as the girl stonily allowed them to pull her back down the hallway—it looked like she was trying desperately not to cry—Shizuru couldn't stop herself.

"Hey!" she shouted. "Get over here; I have some questions for you! Where am I, and what's going on?"

One of the demons started to laugh—besides that, they completely ignored her. "You'll know soon enough," he said, chucking darkly. His voice was deep and gravelly and there was a cruelty to it that made her shiver.

About an hour passed until they came for her. She passed the time stretching her limbs and counting the remaining supplies that Kurama had given her. She'd have to make them last, but Shizuru had a feeling that, whatever came next, she would need them.

They grabbed her, their clawlike nails scratching at her arms as they pulled her along the hallway. Outside the jail corridor their surroundings changed dramatically; from plain cement to a rich, thick carpet and painted walls in dark jewel tones. Wherever she was, money had gone into it.

"We've been having a slow day today, so hopefully you'll be a bit more entertaining," one of the demons cackled. "The humans who are left in this city usually have a bit of experience fighting zombies."

Shizuru shivered, fighting a wave of disgust. Kazuma had told her about villainous demons but her brother also owed his life to one. She could make a guess as to which were the majority. "You've been catching humans to fight for you? You…Y-You demons!" Shizuru started shaking, struggling fiercely against them.

It was useless but if nothing else she had surprised them. "So you've got a little spirit awareness in you, eh?" The other, if it were possible, looked more threatening than the first. "It won't be enough… you'll kill one or two, at best, but eventually you'll fall. Nobody has walked out of the fighting pit."

"Yeah." The first demon laughed. They were nearing the end of the hallway, where instead of a door an elevator waited for them. "When the Black Black Club places their bets, it's on the number of minutes it takes for them to kill you."

The elevator opened with a chime that sounded like it was laughing at them. They pushed her in and Shizuru turned, a little bit grateful that they had given her much more information than she had originally hoped for. With a little more hope, she'd be able to prove them all wrong.

"Hey uglies," she said, cocking her head at them. "Tell the Black Black Club… tell them to place their bets on me."

The door closed and the elevator surged upward.

Shizuru placed both hands in her pockets, feeling for the cases that held two fist-sized leaves with razor-sharp edges. She popped them open and grasped the stems. She closed her eyes for a minute, focusing on slowing her breathing. Inhale… Exhale… Steady and slow. She'd show them all.

The elevator chimed and the doors opened, and as calmly as she could Shizuru stepped out and into the ring.

The demons had called it a fighting pit, and that described it fairly well. Shizuru looked around, noticing the round, sunken pit with black-and-red columns set into the walls. They supported a platform where four men in plush wingback chairs watched her, calculating their next round of bets. She pursed her lips, staring them down. These were the monsters that profited from the destruction of the human world. Without much consideration she knew she'd rather kill them than the zombies.

A door at the side of the pit slid open and a zombie staggered out, clutching a knife in one blue-tinged hand. It stumbled further into the room, unfocused, until it saw her. With a battle cry somewhere between a grunt and a cough, it charged.

Shizuru stood still, her fingers tightening around those leaves. She had used them before, on a particularly nasty zombie that Kazuma's sword alone couldn't defeat. It was shallow but sharp, and had been effective at distracting the zombie so her brother could deliver the killing blow.

At the last moment, she ducked, calculating the zombie's clumsy swipe as his arm arced upwards. Removing each leaf she slashed at its chest, turning sharply to avoid its wind-milling arms as it staggered backwards. She sliced its forearm and, just as she predicted, it dropped the knife.

Not wanting to waste any time, she picked up the knife and stabbed, hoping she would hit something vital. It bellowed, becoming more furious with every injury. Blood bubbled out of the places that she'd hit, pooling on its chest and stomach. God, she hoped she'd punctured its lung.

It twitched for a moment longer and then, very quickly, went still. She was startled by how little its eyes had changed in death—even in life they had appeared glassy and sightless.

Shizuru removed the knife, her bloody fingers slipping a little around the handle. She faced the balcony, pointing it up to each man in turn.

Three of the members of the Black Black Club turned to the fourth, a surprisingly young-looking man in a sharp, tailored suit. He merely closed his eyes, an easy, contented smile on his face. "That's one-hundred thousand yen from each of you, if you please," he said.

"Do you know something we don't, Sakyo?" Tarukane blustered, pulling at the knot of his tie to loosen it. "What's so special about the girl?"

"Yeah, our bets were on how long it took for him to stab her."

"And where," another whined.

Sakyo continued to smile, crossing one leg elegantly over the other. He had been listening in to the conversation with those two lower-level demons. It paid to be observant—he never made a bet he wasn't willing to place his life on. Those fools thought he was lucky; he thought they had better up their bets.

"Let's see how she likes the next one," Tarukane said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "I'll bet two-hundred thousand yen on the zombie. She'll be dead in under a minute."

The other two followed like sheep, betting high and fast. "A thousand extra if she screams," one added.

"Two-hundred thousand on the girl."

That got their attention. The others laughed, gleefully imagining winning back their money but he hardly minded them, instead focusing his attention on her. This was certainly turning into an interesting afternoon.

The next zombie came out of the gate, swinging a heavy, spiked club—something far too bulky for her to use against it. Shizuru was beginning to understand their reasoning now. They weren't used to watching humans win, unless those humans were themselves. Shizuru crouched, ready to prove them wrong again.

Fiercely she darted forward, slicing with her knife before it could attack. Aiming for its dominant hand, she stabbed, hoping it would drop the mace. From there, she darted around it, too fast for the zombie to follow her. Shizuru kicked, slamming it down, howling, chest-first onto its own spiked mace. Another savage push and it was over.

Shizuru stepped away from the body, sweating and breathing heavily. Her jacket had ripped along one sleeve and she was beginning to feel light-headed, but at least she was still relatively unharmed. Each day with her brother fighting against them had prepared her for this.

In the balcony, the other three men grumbled unhappily yet again. "This is costing me a fortune," Tarukane complained.

"Don't gamble if you aren't afraid to lose," Sakyo said, that pleasant smile never leaving his face.

"Let's see how she fares against a real demon," the third, Butajiri, leaned forward eagerly, anticipating her past-due demise—and the return of his money.

Sakyo merely inclined his head. Now this was a real gamble—what he'd been waiting for. The thrill, the heady rush that came when they made real wagers, was what truly motivated him. He'd never show it outwardly, but internally, the buzz—a wave of pleasure, far superior even to smoking or drinking—could nearly put him in a frenzy.

And there was something about her—the way she looked, pant legs splattered with blood, eyes blazing with anger and pointing the knife towards them like she'd be more than happy to just slaughter them all—that made him want to wager on her once more.

"Five-hundred thousand yen on the woman."

The others laughed nervously. "Whatever you say, it's your money," Tarukane said, peering towards the ring.

Shizuka looked out as the door opened again. She was expecting another fight—but something in her refused to acknowledge that they truly wouldn't stop until she died. But instead of another zombie, she was faced with a demon—one of the two who had escorted her here in the first place. He blinked, clearly surprised to see her, but it didn't take long for surprise to even out into a cruel twist of a smile.

"Didn't think you would still be alive," he said, advancing towards her with an eager, self-assured grin. "Let's change that."

Shizuru's eyes widened; Kazuma hadn't told her much about actually fighting demons. How do you even kill a demon? Would it be any different than killing a zombie? She figured it was much, much harder—the Club was definitely upping their bets.

The demon was fast; before she could even plan her moves he was on her. She raised her arms as he clawed at them, ripping the fabric to shreds. She jumped backwards but it was too late; the marks on her arms beaded blood from the cuts.

"Humans are so slow," he said, smirking at Shizuru as she reached into her pockets, wincing at the injury. "And so weak."

Her fingers closed around Kurama's bombs. Fumbling for her cigarette lighter in her other hand, she lit the fuse and tossed it right towards him. Instinctively, he caught it, a little bit curious before understanding took over and then –

The explosion shook the entire room; Shizuru had leapt behind one of the columns just in time to avoid the worst of the blast. Pieces of the walls and ceiling rained down around them and one of the columns fell apart completely, pieces crashing to the floor and shattering into even smaller pieces. Where the demon had previously been, there was only a scorched mark on the floor. Shizuru got to her feet, her heart pounding and ears ringing. "We aren't weak," she whispered.

A different door had opened, this one set seamlessly into the wall, and out walked a man, taking smooth, measured steps and completely disregarding the total destruction of the room. Shizuru couldn't help but feel drawn to him, a nexus of calm, and of the focused way he turned his gaze upon her. She had seen him faintly from his position on the balcony, but as Sakyo approached her she could make out smaller details about him—from the scar on his face to his satisfied smile and intense, dark eyes. Still wary but intrigued, she slowly walked towards him.

"That was very impressively done," he said, reaching into his suit jacket and retrieving a carton of cigarettes and a slim, gold-plated lighter. "Would you like one?"

"God, yes." Despite having a lighter of her own she took the cigarette and leaned in close to him to light it. It was as if an immeasurably heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders and she straightened up, inhaling deeply and fixing Sakyo with a curious look. He had taken a second cigarette for himself.

"Would you like to leave this place behind and come with me?"

It was something of another wager, but he never made a bet without first knowing the outcome. Shizuru looked around the room, memorizing each detail. Yes, she wanted to get away from all of this. She wanted to go back home, back to her brother and his silly cat and to a world without zombies and demons and where she was innocent to the real dangers of the world. But she had made her own path and would continue to make it, and hopefully hers would match up with Kazuma's again. He was fighting for the same things; for her and for his friends and for the world. She was confident that he would succeed. He was her brother, after all.

She agreed, and when he turned to walk away, she followed him.

The End.

A huge and heartfelt thank you to my beta, My Misguided Fairytale. You are awesome! To the reader, thank you for reading and please review, I value and treasure each one.