Prologue: The Flowers Cried

Hey you, out there in the cold

Getting lonely, getting old,

Can you feel me?

Dead.

"I'm sorry, can you explain that one more time?"

Dried wax scraped skin as I petted the artificial leaves, swallowing the sigh bubbling in my throat. An age-old habit, one I regretted immediately when the plant refused my call. But then, how could I expect an answer?

It was dead.

"Sir?"

Cool air crept through the overhead vents, an unwelcome guest after the chilly commute. Even now, dark clouds promised snow, naked bodies plastered to the window. The air conditioning hummed silently, raising goose flesh beneath my suit jacket and chinos. A stray hair languished against the false flower, weaving through petal after petal: the red thread of fate, drowning in a frosted sea. A long-standing firm policy, a foolish bid to help the environment–

It made me sick.

"Mr. Minamino!"

I started, turning from the glistening lily. The client – a woman in her mid-thirties – stared back with wide eyes, brows knit. A navy cardigan clung to her shoulders, nearly concealing the pale blouse beneath. Black pumps shifting ever so slightly atop the carpet, she fidgeted in her seat, hands smoothing invisible wrinkles from her skirt. A young mother, seeking a loan on her husband's behalf–

Awaiting me to do my job.

A low cough and I straightened my tie, returning to the poorly-cushioned chair. "My apologies. Where were we?"

Hey you, standing in the aisles

With itchy feet and fading smiles,

Can you feel me?

It was a beautiful wedding.

Master Genkai's grounds rang with laughter and general good cheer as the guests assembled, mindful of various colorful arrangements and paper lanterns hanging overhead. Demon and human sat side-by-side in painted chairs, alternating blue and gold as was the bride's choice. Each clamored to see the happy couple, even though they knew they would have to wait.

The master of the grounds awaited us in a room on the opposite side of the temple, white robes blending with her graying hair. Though she tried to hide her mirth, a stray spark betrayed her happiness–

Her pride for her idiot apprentice.

A soft breeze carried the sound of merry-making and we began our trek. Mr. and Mrs. Yukimura entered the shrine on silent feet, the lady's kimono catching on stray wisps of wind. Bright cherry blossoms shone against the black fabric of her robes, highlighted all the more by the pale skin of her neck. Mr. Yukimura's lips appeared ready to spring from his face, so big was his smile, his happiness for his only child.

Then there was the groom's mother.

Atsuko leaned against Kuwabara's arm as he escorted her up the stone path, her instability – for once – not due to drunkenness. Sobs resounded through the courtyard as she clutched for air, all the while murmuring "my baby" and "sweet Keiko". I couldn't help but smile at the myriad dragon stitched onto her own black robes, utterly out of place amidst her current state:

Kuwabara's comforts only served to amplify her weeping.

The mothers assembled, my charge tightened her grip and we set off with measured steps. Shizuru rolled her eyes as her brother trotted back to take his place, though I didn't miss the smile tugging her lips. Her kimono suited her, lurid orchids thriving across scarlet fabric. Standing close as we were, my hair brushed her shoulder more than once. From an outsider's perspective, it may well seem she chose her attire with me in mind–

If only it were so.

Botan's laughter carried on the wind as she and Hiei began their journey, the latter scowling all the while. Hair fashioned in a series of well-placed loops, the pink of the grim reaper's kimono did nothing to hide her rosy cheeks, the humor directed at her partner. Hiei muttered something I heard but dared not repeat and she laughed all the more, lost to happiness.

How Yusuke convinced him to wear a suit was beyond me.

Kuwabara came next, escorting the love of his life. Yukina looked lovely in her lilac kimono, a simple thing decorated only by the ornamental clip at the crown of her head. Keiko had chosen the garment herself, declaring how it complimented the ice maiden's eyes.

This must have been true, for Kuwabara could look at nothing else.

Yusuke stood beside Genkai, bare toes braced against the tatami mats. Ever-confident, he nodded to each of his guests, smirking at Hiei's glare. Hands buried in black haori sleeves, the former detective took care not to cover the family symbol on his breast, shifting every so often to test the limits of the hakama. Each fidget was followed by a yelp as his master kicked his shin, hissing for him to be still. Yusuke glowered at Kuwabara's snorts and Atsuko's echoing Genkai's reprimand, nose wrinkled to the point he appeared more beast than human.

All such shenanigans ceased, however, the moment he saw his bride.

Keiko's uchikake complimented her form perfectly, white folds hugging all the right places. The cumbersome veil hid her face as her guide kept pace at her back, wagasa shielding her from the sun. Koenma held the umbrella with sure fingers, pacifier clamped firmly in place, despite his enlarged form. If Spirit World's newest leader minded his minor role in the ceremony, he hid it well.

Perhaps he was simply grateful to be included.

Yusuke's smile lit the room as Keiko took her place at his side, palm placed inside his well-worn hand. Genkai's prayer did not last long and soon the two exchanged vows, nearly screaming at each other over Atsuko's happy cries. Rings slid onto ready fingers and Mrs. Yukimura gasped once more at the diamonds adorning Keiko's band, the merriment in her daughter's eyes:

As if Yusuke could refuse her anything.

A single kiss and it was all over. Months of planning, fretting, and late night pep-talks abolished by a single press of lips. The reception carried far into the night, demon and human alike making complete fools of themselves. Though both bride and groom mingled sporadically with their guests, Yusuke never strayed far from Keiko's side. Each time his gaze found her, I saw such love and pride reflected there I wondered how he contained it–

Shizuru didn't spare me a second glance.

Hey you, don't help them to bury the light.

Don't give in without a fight.

"It's for security purposes."

The world shifted and I bit my cheek, pushing each emotion away as quickly as they rose. Night had long-since gathered and the plants begged for water yet I couldn't bring myself to move. Not yet.

"I'm sure I don't have to tell you how fragile this peace is."

Koenma's words from hours before flooded my lungs, drowning out the need to breathe. Only when spots dotted my vision did I allow air in, the motion causing my hands to tremble.

An executive order, signed and sealed with his own hand.

"How would it look if the illustrious spirit detectives were seen together now?"

The conversation remained fixed on repeat, pounding my skull. Thunder rumbled in the distance yet my apartment remained wrapped in darkness, silence interrupted only by nature's cry and the ticking of the clock. Limited access, monitored contact, forbidden from speaking each other's names in public–

"You understand, don't you?"

Lightning flashed and I curled further into the window, forehead resting against fogged-over glass. Rain assaulted the city much like a fervent lover, pressing unselfish kisses to every surface imaginable. Pedestrians ran for cover as the water fell upon their heads, cleansing the earth, washing the city of its sins. Each drop pierced my heart, drove blood from my brain–

And still the flowers cried.

A/N: Hello and welcome! I told myself I wouldn't begin another story until I finished my two on-going fics, but here we are.

'Hey You' has tugged at my brain for months, begging to be told. I've wondered for years how Kurama's life would go after YYH ends, mostly due to the fact that he seemed likely to end up alone. This story was inspired by the Pink Floyd song by the same title and will be told from Kurama's as well as another character's first-person POV. I tried to write this in third person but it never sounded right, so I apologize to readers who dislike canon characters being written from a first-person perspective.

Some uncomfortable themes will be explored in this story, namely loneliness, depression, lethargy and insanity. These are real issues and I do not believe any person/character is immune from them, even Kurama, Mr. Wonderful himself.

That being said, I hope you enjoy 'Hey You' or, at the very least, give it a chance. You will not be disappointed.

Cultural notes: Japanese weddings are normally small affairs, attended only by famliy and close friends. The receptions can quite large however. All men except the groom wear suits, while the women normally wear kimonos. The mothers of the bride and groom wear black kimonos with colorful stitching while the groom wears a black kimono with the family symbol stitched in white.

Haori – Overcoat for male kimono.

Hakama – Pants of male kimono.

Uchikake – Japanese bride's wedding kimono.

Wagasa – Oil paper umbrella.