DISCLAIMER.
I don't own YuYu Hakusho.

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xx X x.xx equals xx.xx percent equals x/xxx equals .xxxx

x X xy equals ?

June third
My name is Kurama. Well, realistically, I have a few names. I'm called Minamino Shuuichi by those who know me only as a human, and Youko Kurama by those who know me only as a demon. I guess that makes me Kurama Shuuichi to those who know me as both, then. But just Kurama will do. It always has. Because that's what I am, 'just Kurama.'

That's what's really on my mind right now, I suppose. I do think this requires my explaining, as I have never shared these thoughts with anyone. I barely allow myself to believe them, but as I grow it only becomes harder to suppress my seemingly warring emotions. So of course, an outlet is absolutely necessary. I've read books enough on maturity and development to know that if you don't create the outlet, the outlet creates you. That is to say, you become identified by your outbreaks of feelings at random times, your temper tantrums, your crying fits. That is not something I need to be known for. I'm already just me, and I want to keep myself at least in the zone of positive numbers regarding this subject of my image. So this old pre-algebra notebook has become my way of getting rid of what I can't carry. It strikes me as funny that something originally intended to host only logical writing has now become defiled by the fitful worries of an adolescent.

But I digress. I do need to get back to what I was saying, for if I keep these matters bubbling about on the tip of my mind, they are sure to slide to my tongue.

The absolute truth is, I feel utterly alone right now. None of my close friends have noticed it, and really, why should they? They have their own affairs to be dealing with, and I am not a part of them. Yusuke and Keiko, I can tell, are getting around to openly revealing their feelings for each other, with Botan (over-enthusiastically, in my opinion) behind them all the way. Kuwabara is preoccupied with persistent thoughts of his beloved Ice Maiden, Hiei's sister. So there are my closest friends, all busy. What I'm getting at can easily be seen by now.

All of the others are involved in, or supportive of, a romantic relationship. Me? I get to watch.

Despite how much I hate to admit it, I am now crying. It's not fair! I mean, sure, a good seventy-five percent of the girls at my school have crushes on me. But I don't even know them. I don't care. I DON'T CARE! I feel absolutely no attraction to them. Truthfully, I am deathly afraid to say why. But I know I have to. For the reason why this is so, my above comments on the use of emotional outlets can be referenced.

Now I must take a deep breath and prepare myself for my silent confession.

All right, I've taken my breath(s). It took me all of fifteen minutes, but now I am starting, and nothing is going to hold me from seeing this confession of mine through until I am completely and wholly finished. This paragraph has served as my final pep talk.

I have a crush.

I said it. But now I am tied to also saying the rest of this.

My crush is not normal, so much so that it's scary. This is because... my crush is not on a member of the opposite sex, as all the books I've read say it should be. My crush is on another male.

My God, I am scared to death. What have I done wrong? Why is this happening to me? Why does ANY of this have to happen? Why does it have to be so scary? I'm so afraid. I want to run, but he'd find me. I want to hide, but he can see perfectly well into the darkest corners possibly imagined by any living being. I want to cry, but he'd know. He always knows. I want to break down, but he wouldn't be able to pick me up, to piece me back together, to give me the one and only thing I so desperately want.

All along, I never realized that the butterflies in my stomach and heat in my face and neck when he was around was a crush. After all, he's also considered my 'best friend.' What is there to suspect about one half of a 'best friends' pair always clinging to the other? Nothing. But the problem is, somewhere within myself, I know that I'm not his best friend. My other side is. And maybe it's best that way. My other side is stronger, faster, and... more masculine. Men don't cry. I do. Men don't choose flowers as their most deadly weapons. I do. Men don't write their English assignments in scrawly cursive. I do. Men don't... Men don't get crushes on themselves. I just got done crying, and now I've started all over again.

I'm such an idiot for not knowing earlier. Maybe if I had, I could have stopped it. Stopped myself from falling and hitting the ground with this huge thud. I'm slowly dying of the resulting internal bleeding.

I guess when I first saw it was that day, that day about two weeks ago. That day changed everything about my life, and for the worse. If I could have one wish granted in my entire life, it would be for that day not to have happened. Maybe then, I wouldn't be in the mess I'm now in.

Maybe then, I'd be normal.

I was out in the small garden at the back of my house, just walking around, singing under my breath a song whose drifting melody now rests, peacefully forgotten. All the plants and flowers about me were grateful for the rich liquid my watering can had to offer, and they did seem to lift themselves even higher up as I walked by. None of them wanted to be ignored, I guess, as if they needed to worry about that. I always took my best care to make sure they all got their fair share of the nutrients they longed for in the intra-summer heat. That little garden was the sanctuary stuck randomly in the center of my turbulent life. It was hard to visit, hard to remember, and hard to come by. No one could find me there, or so I thought.

I should have thought better. I should have known he'd find me.

I shouldn't have been singing.

"Try it an octave lower."

His deep, strong voice forced shivers to spiral through my entire body, eyelashes, fingernails, kneecaps, and all. I turned in surprise, and there he was, leaning against the back of the house, muscled arms crossed, deadly weapon at his waist, eyes glinting slightly through the shadow the roof sent over his face. Like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. It shocked me, at the absolute least. He was in my sanctuary.

HE was in MY sanctuary.

I blundered like a good idiot for the next five seconds, mouth working silently, until I managed to crack out, "An-"

"Octave lower, yes."

To this day, I still do wonder if he was crazy to suggest that. A human couldn't have counted how many times my voice cracked in the higher register, my COMFORTABLE RANGE. Then again, he isn't a human. He probably has the exact figure. I was embarrassed to death and blushing madly, and he laughed lightly.

"That's all right. I guess that would be kind of putting you on the spot. I'll leave you alone, then."

Then he left, and I'd said one word to him. He had left my sanctuary.

HE had left MY sanctuary.

Yet, I cannot even begin to describe how much I wished he hadn't.

I have a crush on Hiei, Jaganshi.

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