I own nothing. This is just a drabble about how it could have come out that sweet little Shuichi is Youko Kurama. The Newspaper: post/64185266468/shuichiminamino-jupiterprincessho uou
Shiori sat with her leg folded over her knee, the paper in her hand, ink stains ground into her skin attempting to make them as black as her hair. Her soft eyes, for once, were hard, as she watched the young man across form her, her son. He sat stiffly in the chair, his red wild hair matching the photo in the picture, but he was dressed different this time. He wore an older Chinese style outfit, with a fabric belt holding the draping flaps tight to his waist instead of long gloves, skin tight pants, and some odd shirt.
"Shuichi," Shiori breached. "I said I saw you in the paper today."
"I'm sorry Mother. I'm not sure what you're talking about." Shuichi fiddled with the fabric covering his legs.
Shiori dipped her chin and stared at him, silent.
The boy squirmed and sat up straighter in the chair. "Mother? I wasn't interviewed for a story in the paper."
"No, no you weren't."
"And you're not holding a paper I'd want to be in," he offered quietly.
Shiori pulled out a page of the paper, setting the rest aside. She took her time carefully folding it open, and held it out to him. He stiffened when he saw the picture, and laughed a little, his smile fading into a toothy frown, "Mother? This is a hoax! How could they think I was an alien, I'm your son."
Shiori waited a little while longer, still holding out the paper. He cautiously accepted it from her, taking it in both hands and staring down at the brief article. It dictated how an unusual, mostly human looking boy appeared from thin air, went off to the park, and promptly settled by the riverbank where the photograph was taken. Apparently the grass had grown a bit as he sat down. "I can't come out of thin air. This article is obviously just someone trying to ruin my reputation," Shuichi offered weakly, his eyebrows squinting together, almost as a pout as he stared at the woman across form him with his head down. He was displaying puppy eyes.
"Shuichi, is there something you need to tell me?" Shiori asked calmly.
He swallowed visibly and set the article between them, shifting back in his chair further. "That article has to be false Mother. I don't know why you're letting this make you say these wild things." He folded his hands in his lap, staring at the article.
Shiori leaned forward a little, "Are they wild things Shuichi?" She let that sink in while he stiffened again and looked back at her. "Shuichi, it's alright. I believe those reports on the news, you know, the ones that demons are real. There are those two girls on TV who are demons, Koto and Juri."
"When have you seen them?" Shuichi asked, shocked. His mouth never closed as he watched her, waiting for an answer.
"They're on the news Shuichi. If you were ever around now, you'd know that! You've been very distant lately, Shuichi, and I want to know if it has to do with demons." She pointed at his picture.
"Mother, how could you say that about me?" he admonished dropping his head, his eyebrows knitting together. "I'm a good child." He glanced about, and shifted forward in his chair. "Why would I associate with the creations of evil?" Shuichi stood up stiffly.
"They're not evil young man, and you know it." Shiori snapped, standing. "I raised you better than that now sit down!" Shiori demanded, pointing to his chair. Shuichi slowly sunk back down into his chair. "Now then," She remained standing, "I have reason to believe that your friends are demons." She walked across the room to a large cabinet. Her aged hands pulled on a drawer and another news clipping, this one cut out and laminated with the photograph, drawn. She held it out to Shuichi. He didn't take it.
"Shuichi," Their eyes caught. "I want the truth. I want to hear you say it." She set that news article beside the first one she'd given him on the little dainty coffee table.
Shuichi sat stiffly in the chair staring down at the two articles. Shiori sat down across from him on her couch. She sat back, crossed her legs, and folded her hands in her lap, waiting. Shuichi didn't speak for nearly half an hour, just staring at the two pictures on the table, stiff. Finally, he shut his eyes, his red eyebrows squeezing together beneath his long red hair, as his bangs fell in front of his eyes, shielding them. "I'm sorry Mother," he whispered.
"Shuichi?" Shiori moved forward and leaned down a bit. "It's alright." she tried to catch a glimpse of his eyes. "I understand that demons aren't evil. I know why you didn't tell me, but I want to know," she sat forward further, "now," she tapped the table to add emphasis.
"It's not what you think," he whispered, then shook his head. "I don't know, it might be what you think. Hiei," Shuichi nearly whined. He reached out and picked up the laminated article. "Hiei is my friend." Tears dripped down on to the paper as he tried to catch his breath. He managed to stop his tears, barely.
"You told me he was an orphan, Shuichi." Shiori pushed a box of tissues closer to him.
"He is." Shuichi dabbed his eyes dry. "I did not lie to you about that. He is an orphan." Shuichi stared down at the laminated, drawn sketch of his friend. Shiori sat back after a few minutes, and Shuichi jerked a little, but continued. "His mother was forced to give him up by her family. In fact, they took him from her, and his sister, and tried to kill him," he winced and stiffened, whispering, "by tossing him off a cliff."
Shiori gasped and covered her mouth with her hands, "Shuichi! You didn't tell me that. You just said he was an orphan."
"How am I supposed to explain," he snapped, his face pail with weakness as he stared at her, "How can I tell you that my best friend was thrown off a cliff as a newborn and didn't die? He's a demon. He survived because he's a demon," he wiped off the lamination and set it back on the table. "Yusuke's a demon too, but he didn't know it. He didn't know it until he died again."
"Again?" Shiori asked, aghast. She leaned back against the couch. "How do you die multiple times?"
"He wasn't supposed to die, so they let him come back to life after he was hit by a car. You can look it up, he has an obituary." Shuichi sagged back in his chair with a few more tissues in his hand. He blew his nose and gathered himself.
"What about Kazuma?" Shiori asked softly.
"He's human," Shuichi whispered weakly, "lucky bastard."
Shiori carefully stood up and paced. She didn't say anything at first, just paced, occasionally looking to him as he sat back in the chair, occasionally looking at the two articles. Finally, she picked up the article with the badly drawn picture of the spikey haired kid with three eyes, and put it away. She came back over to her spot and sat down. "Shuichi what else is there?"
"Mother, isn't it bad enough that I know demons? Why do you insist on knowing more? Can't you just let it go?"
"No!" The woman shot to her feet again. Shiori took a breath, held her hands out flat to the floor, screwed her eyes shut for a second, took another breath, and let it go, dropping her hands. "You're my son Shuichi. You're my son and I want to know what is going on in your life. You've been so distant since my honeymoon," She slowly sat on the corner of her couch. "I was wondering if you were against Kazuya after all, and you treat Little Shuichi so coldly sometimes." She folded her hands in her lap, regarding her son.
"Mother, you don't need to know this," Shuichi urged, sitting forward suddenly. He pointed to the picture, his picture. "This, this isn't something you want to know! Every child has their secrets, why can't you please," he practically crawled off the chair, clasping his hands together as he stared up at her, "please, just let this be mine," he pleaded.
Shiori sighed, "Shuichi, I love you," She reached across the table and picked up his hands. "I love you so very much Shuichi, and I can't let this go because you're not acting like yourself." She gave him all the compassion she could through her slightly squinted brow, stiff lips, and open eyes. "You've been so quiet lately, and distant, it's like you're not even here any longer and I'm starting to get concerned that these people have dragged you into something you don't want to be involved with. Shuichi, please, if you're in trouble, tell me."
Shuichi pulled away from the touch enough to take her hands in his, instead. "This isn't something where you can help. It's not something that needs fixing."
Shiori squinted, and watched her son carefully. She reached out and brushed his bangs away from his eyes, getting caught in their stiff green stare. Her hand trailed down the long hair that always framed his cheeks, hiding his ears. She pushed the strand behind his cute little ear. "Shuichi, your father had black hair and brown eyes." She reached out and cupped his cheek. She ran her thumb over the slight wetness, watching as the damp moisture soaked across his cheek and paled the skin further. "I don't have your features either. At this point, it's hard not to know that you're different. I just don't understand how."
Shuichi pulled away from her and stood up, walking to the window, folding his hands behind his back and staring into the garden. He gulped nervously and straightened himself, squaring his shoulders, turned around to speak, caught her eye and shrunk away back to the window staring outside again.
Shiori stood up and walked over to him, slowly, her steps thumping across the scantly decorated room, just sitting areas, a couple cabinets, and a table. She reached out and gently put her hands on his shoulders, feeling him jump, before he reached up and gently rubbed her hand. He shut his eyes and leaned back as she wrapped her arms around him, putting her head against his. "Tell me the truth Shuichi."
A frown etched itself across his features, and she could feel his shoulders shake, he gripped her hand tightly. "I'm not your son," he whispered.
"Oh no," Shiori admonished, "you're my son." Her brow furrowed in disgruntled memory. "I couldn't miss that flaming red hair when I was first given you to hold. I recognize it now, and I saw you at the hospital every day, easiest baby to see because of it." She ruffled his hair, chuckling a little.
Shuichi dropped his head, nearly shrinking into the floor, but she held him tight. "I'm not your son," he repeated. "I'm a demon. I possessed you son's body."
Shiori's arms dropped like led weights. He separated from her as her arms fell, quicker than they could release him. She stepped back, stiff. "What?"
Shuichi leaned forward, catching himself on the windowsill and shoving his forehead against the cold glass, tears dripped onto his hands.
"I'm a demon, I possessed your son," he shivered with effort, and gasped for breath. "I stole him from you Shiori, I took him from you." Shuichi swallowed hard as his fingers pressed against the wood. "I grew up all these years, all of them, in disguise as your son. Every honor role, every day I cursed you for being weak," his voice cracked at the word and he shook his head, digging it against the glass, "every hour you consoled me, and held me from my nightmares, every time you laughed and hugged me, every word from my mouth." Shuichi pushed his hand against the glass, then balled it into a fist. "I'm just a monster," he turned finally, tears streaming from his green eyes as they burned into her, "standing here in this human skin."
She took a step back from him, and bumped into the back of the chair he'd been sitting in. The light shrouded his face from backlighting, but she could tell he was crying, she saw his shoulders shake, the whimper in his voice, and how low he hung his head. "I'm nothing." he continued, his hands digging tightly into balls at his sides. His legs trembled with effort. "I don't belong here." He folded at her feet, digging his hands into the carpet as he bowed completely to her, his forehead to the ground, sobs still raking down his form. Whether the bow was from an inability to complete a step, or through his motivation, neither could tell.
"Shuichi, I don't understand." Shiori whispered, "How could you be?"
"I was merciless, I didn't spare anyone, or anything. I am just a cold-hearted monster. All I ask is that you please, just give me time to set things in order. I can't just leave without ensuring you'll be safe. I can't just let you die once I'm gone because I can't be here to protect you!" He corrected his bow stiffening his form.
"Shuichi!" Shiori demanded, she knelt down in front of him and pulled up his head tracing her hand under his jaw. "Shuichi stop talking nonsense. You're my son, I am not kicking you out!"
"No Shiori," He swallowed and bowed again "I'm a-a monster, I'm not your son. I've been born before."
"Shuichi," Shiori wiped away his tears and kissed his head. She pulled him into a hug. He shivered from effort of holding back his sobs, and pulled away from her like a disgruntled puppy. "Shuichi, you're my son. I know that, even if you don't think you're my son, you are! I've cared for you all these years like a son and god damn it you're my son no matter what you are!" She pulled him back again, wrapping an arm around his waist under his arms so he couldn't squeeze out of her grasp as easily. She patted his head against her shoulder as he gave up fighting, and slouched against her side, falling in a heap against her as he finally began to talk.