Disclaimer: I do not own either Detective Conan / Case Closed or Yu Yu Hakusho – if I did, I would be rich and famous! I am currently neither, but frankly, that suits me just fine. I hope this story will be found worthy of both fictional worlds.
"Street Fights"
Knock, knock. "Atsuko?"
No answer.
"Hmph! Probably drunk already. ATSUKO!!" Keiko pounded on the door.
The door squeaked open. "Yeah, yeah, what is it?" A bleary-eyed woman poked her head out, squinting in the morning light… which wasn't really all that bright. It was early spring, and the day was comfortably cool but somewhat overcast.
The smell of alcohol on Atsuko Urameshi's breath made Keiko nauseous, but she bit back the gag reflex. I'm not about to puke my guts all over my best friend's mother… not like she hasn't probably been doing enough of that herself lately…
"Atsuko, is Yusuke here? I told him yesterday that I'd come by and get him to school on time myself if I had to."
"Yusuke? No, he's not here… he already left."
Keiko checked her watch. It was still running, and she had just set it this morning. Could he have really gone to school on his own? "Are you sure he went to school?" she asked, peering over Atsuko's shoulder into the house. It's totally trashed!
"Yep. He was reciting something for science class as he went. Kept talking about 'the big jerk' and 'finishing it'… Keiko?"
The girl was already off and running.
"Yawn… whatever." Atsuko closed the door and slumped against the inside frame, an unconscious heap.
xxxxx
Keiko's blue skirt swished along, keeping time with the pounding of her feet and her heart. "Yusuke," she vowed between gritted teeth, "if you got yourself into another fight, I swear I will punch your lights out myself!"
Last time, it was a high school guy who made a pass at me on the way home… the time before that, Daisuke Kumon called Yusuke's mother a whore… well, I guess I can't blame him for that one, it could be true for all I know. But three fights in one week is a record even for Yusuke!
She searched the usual spots, confident that her running ability – and the fact that she always left for school an hour before she really needed to – would allow her to find Yusuke and still get them both to school on time. I haven't been late yet… and he's never on time…
The underpass… nothing.
The vacant lot… plenty of broken bottles and teeth (more so of the latter)… but nobody.
Keiko checked her watch for the tenth time that morning. Five minutes! Sorry, Yusuke… it's on your own head!
She turned the corner, side-stepping a gaggle of girls from their cross-town rival school, Mitsukake Junior High. She dashed down the street to her own, Sarayashi Junior High.
xxxxx
Yusuke Urameshi sized up his opponent as they circled around each other in the narrow, refuse-strewn alley. Okay, so he's got me on size… He grinned. Which only means he's a bigger target. The longer arms might be a problem… I'll have to beat him with speed.
"You ready to quit dancing, you big jerk?"
"Anytime you are, Urameshi!" his adversary bellowed.
The two ninth-graders went at it hammer and tongs. Neither one had anything remotely resembling a distinct fighting style… they just brawled. Punches, kicks, elbow jabs, headbutts… in short, no holds barred. And they were both quite good at it – so good, in fact, that twenty minutes passed by, and still they stood: bruised almost everywhere, bleeding everywhere else. Both blue uniforms were practically shredded.
"Heh… not bad, Urameshi."
"Not bad yourself, ya big jerk."
"Hnh." The battered red-haired boy grinned, staggered, and fell flat on his face.
"Finally…" Yusuke toppled as well. For a moment, he rested sprawled on his back, and then forced himself into a cross-legged sitting position. Something nagged at the back of his brain. "Oh, crap! Keiko!"
He stood up too fast, and reeled while his pounding heart tried to compensate for the sudden shift. He held himself up with one hand against the cold, slimy brick wall of the alley and began making his way to its exit.
As he walked, he mulled over the events that had led up to the scrap. Keiko had surmised correctly: his mother had indeed gone on another drinking binge the past few weeks, leaving her son to fend for himself, as usual. Life with Atsuko was an endless cycle of binges and promises to never go on a bender again… promises she always broke. He never knew whether his mother would be AWOL, drunk and partying with complete strangers, drunk and passed out, or weeping and begging him to forgive her. He wasn't sure which of the four options he hated the most. As a result, Yusuke hated going home just slightly more than he hated going to school; the teachers, convinced of his status as a permanent delinquent, never really gave him a chance to make good – but at least at school, he could see Keiko.
While he was coming back from school yesterday, his mood was already sour, dreading whatever scene awaited him at home. Normally getting knocked flat onto the pavement by someone in a hurry wouldn't bother him much… as the one teacher he'd had that he actually liked used to say, "manure happens". But he was not having a good day; so he had chased the culprit down and returned the favor.
xxxxx
"Kuwabara?" It was indeed his arch-rival from school. His distinctive hair gave him away even before he pried his equally distinctive face off the pavement.
"Get offa me, Urameshi!" Kurama Kuwabara had just as little difficulty in recognizing Yusuke's voice; their ongoing feud was legendary at Sarayashi Junior High. The burly young man threw Yusuke off his back as he pried himself off of the pavement. "What was that for anyhow?"
"For bowling me over, you big galoot!"
"So that was you back there? I didn't even notice who it was. I was just in a hurry, and you were in the way!" Kuwabara jabbed an accusing finger.
"In the way, my ass! You're not getting out of this one!" Yusuke took a fighting stance, ready to have at it.
"Look, can I get back to you on this? I'm kinda in a hurry…" Kuwabara looked almost frantic. Yusuke had never seen him so worried, so he reluctantly agreed to put the fight off until tomorrow.
xxxxx
Yusuke reached the end of the alley. Out of wall… He stepped out onto the street, and
"OOMPH!" sprawled onto the pavement, the steamrolled victim of a rushed pedestrian for the second time in as many days.
"Yusuke! Oh my God, are you all right?"
"Hm Kum-umph…" (translation: "Hi Keiko")
"I'm so sorry, Yusuke!" She rolled him over onto his back, and looked into the blood-smeared face of her best friend since first grade. "Did I do that to you?"
"No… my face just naturally looks like this." He grinned up at her, and she knew that his tough nature would ensure his survival – despite the fact that his face very nearly resembled an extremely rare teriyaki burger.
So I didn't hurt him that much… but something sure did. "Yusuke, what have you been up to?"
"Nothing."
"So I take it that 'nothing' was more important than meeting me this morning?"
"Er… yeah…"
"But you didn't!"
Oops… I walked right into that one.
"I'm sorry, Keiko. I honestly forgot all about it. What were we meeting about, anyhow?"
"To make sure you got… to… school…" Keiko glanced at her watch. "Two minutes! Move it, Yusuke!"
She dashed off, dragging the battered boy along behind her.
xxxxx
Across town, a similar scene was unfolding: similar in that it involved a daft junior-high boy and an exasperated girl, yet different in the fact that this girl was actively trying to kill the boy rather than nearly doing so accidentally.
"Jimmy! Stand… still… and… take it… like… a… man!"
WHOCK
The concrete wall crumbled, and several chunks smacked the boy's head on their journey 'south', courtesy of the earth's gravity.
Jimmy Kudo stared up at the enflamed face of his attacker. "Now, Rachel, I really didn't mean it like that!"
"Then how did you mean it? It'll be all over school by the end of the day: Jimmy Kudo, pervert detective."
"I was just trying to show how being observant in all aspects – using all five senses – can help to solve a case!"
Rachel Moore withdrew her dust-covered fist from the impression it had left in the wall and seized Jimmy's collar. She stared him in the eyes. "That doesn't mean you had to go and kiss some random girl to find out what lip gloss she was wearing," she growled.
Jimmy began to sweat. Rachel had been his best friend since before he could dribble a soccer ball, but she was also the star of the school's karate team. And she had a tiny bit of a jealous streak, which he was beginning to find both endearing and annoying. He was slowly coming to the realization that he was in love with her, but he was well aware that romance would undoubtedly complicate, if not compromise, his chosen future career as a private detective. Unfortunately, once he got started talking about mysteries and detective work, it was like his mind completely disassociated from thoughts of anything else; hence his present predicament.
"Yes, I suppose I could have chosen a better example of how to effectively use the sense of taste… but it was… err… convenient?" Jimmy instantly regretted that particular word choice as the flames he envisioned surrounding Rachel's slim frame doubled in intensity.
"And I don't suppose you could have used me instead?" Rachel purposefully kept her tone neutral, her eyes calm, though inside she was seething. Last chance, buster!
"No."
That's it! "And why not?"
"Because I already know what type you wear," he answered matter-of-factly, "so that wouldn't prove anything."
"And just how would you know that?" You've never kissed me!
"Because I've seen you buy it, and put it on; because you always wear the same kind; and because it's one of the first things I smell every morning – after breakfast and your shampoo. It's Shunogi's Strawberry Lip Gloss, Number Five, with Moisture Protection and SPF 15."
"Yes, you're right, but…" you're totally missing the point, you jerk! "Sigh… never mind, Jimmy. You're so dense." She let him slide to the pavement, turned on her heel, and strode off.
"Wait! Hey, Rachel, what's going on here?" His lean, athletic body – trained to perfection on the soccer field – quickly caught up to hers. He leaned in conspiratorially. "Don't tell me that you're actually…"
"Kudo! Jimmy Kudo!"
"Inspector McGuire! Good morning!"
The pudgy, balding, mustachioed police officer thundered down the street towards them. "Your classmates told me that you hadn't yet arrived at school, so I called your house. Since there was no answer, I decided to check your route to school."
"I see. So, now that you've found me, what do you want with me?"
"We need your help, Jimmy! A dead body was discovered on the West Side this morning; you know how effective their investigations unit is, so headquarters requested you take over the case." Indeed, the West Side precinct was notorious both for its high crime rate and its low rate of criminal capture. The officers in most other precincts felt that the West Side police force was 'on the take', but Jimmy was fairly certain that they were simply more inept than the average cops.
Rachel grasped Jimmy's arm, well aware that his brain was already spinning in this exciting new direction. "Oh, no, not another case, Jimmy! If you miss another day of school, you'll be suspended!"
"It's already been cleared with the administration, Miss Moore." McGuire handed Jimmy a manila envelope containing the preliminary report.
Rachel chewed her lip furiously, ruminating. "If he's going, I'm going too!' she declared.
"That alright with you, Jimmy? I know she's helped you out before."
Jimmy's eyes glazed over as he read through the report for the fifth time. Dead to the world, as usual. "I think he's ok with it," she asserted.
The inspector nodded. "I'll have to have the school call your father, then." He reached for his radio.
Rachel's eyes went wide. "No, no need for that! He's… out… today. It'll be alright if I just cut school for the day." It was the truth – mostly. Her father had been in a slow decline ever since the divorce two years ago; from the number of beer cans she'd picked up (and bagged for recycling) throughout the apartment this morning, he probably would be 'out' all day.
"Well, ok, but I'm not taking any fallout for it." The inspector summoned a squad car with his walkie.
"Yes, sir." The only 'fallout' I can foresee is my drunk dad falling out of bed… he doesn't care about anything anymore.
The car pulled up, and they all piled in. "Take the express, Nekonemo," the inspector ordered the driver.
"Yes, sir!"
A/N: For those of you who could not determine this from the clues, this story takes place before Yusuke's untimely death at the hands of a reckless driver. Thus, he has no spiritual powers (sorry, no reiki gun in this story, folks…) but he's still one hell of a street fighter. This story also takes place before Jimmy Kudo (yes, I'm using the Americanized names, because I can, daggone it!) becomes Conan Edogawa… so it's sort of a prequel to both series.
As such, I have taken a little artistic license, as we have few clues regarding the personalities and mannerisms of the four main characters prior to those momentous events. For instance, I decided to make all four main characters ninth-graders, though I know full well that when Case Closed / Detective Conan began, Jimmy and Rachel were in high school. Since I don't know exactly when either storyline takes place relative to the other, I took the easy way out and made them all the same age. Please continue to read and enjoy!