Setting: Picks up a few decades after The Courtship ends. Yusuke and Keiko have been married since he returned from the makai.
Yusuke stared down at the grave, unshed tears blurring his vision. He had come here every day. Rain, shine, whatever. It didn't matter. Every day it was the same. He woke up, thinking that Keiko would be beside him, possibly trying to catch a few extra minutes of sleep before getting up to start breakfast and waking Kohai for school. Yusuke Jr.; his son, his namesake. Since there were two Yusukes in the house, they called him Kohai, or junior. He had wanted to name him something else, anything else. But Keiko had insisted. He argued that the boy needed his own identity, and not one premade for him but Keiko had insisted. Finally, he pointed to his former reputation and asked her if the world was ready for another Yusuke Urameshi? But she had insisted. End of story.
Next, he would think that maybe he slept in too late and Kohai was at school and Keiko was at the market. She liked to go early to get the best fruit and fish. She would then visit her parents and chat with the neighbors. She always left him breakfast and a little note saying when she would be back. He would jump out of bed and dash down stairs. But there was no breakfast.
His mind would run through the possibilities. Where was his wife? In the yard? Shopping? Was it parent's day at school? He hated those. He went one time (Keiko had insisted) and he was the only father who had showed up. Many of the silly, cackling women were girls he remembered from school who remarked on how handsome and responsible he had become and how young he looked for his age. It was true. No streaks of silver in his hair, no age lines, not one sign of his forty-two years.
But he knew that would happen, and so did Keiko. Once he finally accepted his demon identity he knew that once he reached his peak he would cease to age physically. That had happened at twenty-five.
That had not happened to Keiko. He wanted to mate with her, but he could not. He figured if he shared some of his demon energy with her by marking her as his mate, then she would be OK. They would live, and die together. But Koenma said that was out of the question. Keiko had no spirit energy whatsoever, he had said. She may not seem fragile to you, but she is, he had told him. If you inject her with your demon energy, her body will reject the energy like a mismatched liver or kidney. Your mazoku genes are too powerful; you may kill her, Koenma warned.
So he didn't mark her. He left her mortal, he had no choice. But in his eyes, she forever remained that fourteen year old girl that had defended him to her friends when everyone else rejected him, who ran into a burning house to save him, who followed him to a demon tournament to see him fight and wasn't afraid to give him a good slap when he needed it. He didn't notice the streaks of gray in her hair. He hadn't seen the lines on her face, or how her body wasn't as firm as it used to be. He didn't notice how she didn't skip anymore, but walked slow, and even slower on rainy and cold days. She was still his girl.
Finally, after he searched and searched for her, he didn't find her. He found the truth, which he was most certainly not looking for. But the truth and Kohai was all he had left.
The truth was that Keiko was dead. She had fought her last battle against cancer. Cancer had won. It started when she had given birth to Kohai. Koenma had warned them that having a child was risky. He reminded him of what happened to the woman who had given birth to Raizen's child, of whom he was descended from. Yusuke argued that there was no way to prove that she died from the demon DNA, and that Kurama's mother had given birth to him with no problems. Koenma had advised him that that was a flimsy hat to hang his argument on, so he had dropped the issue, but Keiko had insisted. The pregnancy was normal, or what he figured was normal. He had never been around a pregnant woman before. The labor was 'normal', or so the doctor said. He didn't think there was anything normal about what he saw and heard. But he knew, he knew that when she gave birth to Kohai that it was the beginning of the end. There was something in her eyes, but he blocked it out, and filled his mind with the joy of their son.
For a while it worked. For a long while; ten years in fact. Then one day two years ago they had the house to themselves. Hiei and Kuwabara were driving up the temple that weekend with their daughter Kanoli, who insisted that her cousins Kohai and Gina, Kurama and Shizuru's daughter, join them.
Keiko had been tired a lot lately. Yusuke had complained that she was working too hard, and insisted that she relax and get more rest. He and Kohai cooked, cleaned, did the laundry and the shopping while Keiko rested, but resting only made her more tired. So they had stayed home that weekend. He was giving her a massage when he noticed it. He had rubbed her head, her legs, her feet, her back, her shoulders, and even her behind, which made her giggle and joke about how it wasn't as firm as it used to be, but he hadn't noticed. When he rubbed her breast, her left breast, he felt a lump. This gave him pause, so he stopped and poked and squeezed at it. She let out a yelp of pain and kicked him. He pretended to be hurt by the kick to cover up his panic. That night he couldn't sleep, he lay awake and his mind churned and churned, desperate to come up with some other explanation. No, it couldn't be that. But what else could it be? He didn't want to live in denial, so he asked her about it the next morning. She tried to brush it off but he insisted. He even went to the doctor with her; highly unusual because he hated doctors. She had to drag him to the obstetrician with her while she was pregnant with Kohai. The only time he actually wanted to go was to see the sonogram.
When the doctor examined her breast he furrowed his eyebrows and said that he was going to do a mammogram. What the hell is a mammogram? he had asked. A mammogram is an x-ray of the breast, the doctor had explained. Keiko had complained of the way the machine had smashed her breast, it was tender and it hurt. The doctor looked at the x-ray and furrowed his eyebrow even more and said that he wanted to do a biopsy. What the hell is that? Yusuke had asked. We want to take a piece of the lump and take a closer look at it, he had answered. What did you see on the x-ray? Yusuke had asked. The doctor said that he detected 'something of interest' but wanted to run tests to be sure. Yusuke thought the doctor was stalling but he wasn't ready for the truth.
A week later, the doctor called them back to the office and broke the news. The biopsy results were in. Keiko was in the advanced stages of breast cancer. Yusuke got a funny feeling. It was like he separated from his body and was looking down at himself and Keiko and the doctor. The doctor was droning on about something; treatments or something like that. Radiation, chemotherapy, a mastectomy? What? They wanted to cut off her breast? Keiko refused to consider the idea. But Mrs. Urameshi, we can reconstruct your breast after you cancer had been treated, the doctor reassured her. She shook her head. Yusuke, now separated from his body, now watched his wife shake her head calmly but stubbornly at radiation, at chemotherapy, at any kind of treatment. He watched himself, frozen to his seat, his tongue frozen in his mouth, his heart seemingly frozen in his chest. He saw the tear frozen at the corner of his eye, threatening to fall. The doctor handed them some literature and asked that they at least think it over. He gave them the name of a specialist, a cancer doctor, oncologist was it?
It was no use. Keiko's mind was made up. The doctor had called Yusuke back to the office the next day and begged him to convince his wife to try some type of treatment. Can you save her? he had asked. Mr. Urameshi, she has had the cancer for a long time. The only way to save her now would be to remove her breast. But she won't let you, he had said. If we begin chemotherapy and radiation now, she may live for another two or three years, but without treatment she will die, Mr. Urameshi. How long? he heard himself ask in a shaky voice. A few months, a year at the most, the doctor had guessed. But please, please, convince her to start some type of treatment.
It was no use. She shook her head with that same polite stubbornness that he had seen her do to the doctor when he was separated from his body. He had screamed out Why? in desperation. Because, she had answered, Yusuke, I'm going to die, no listen to me Yusuke, she had said when he tried to cover his ears. I am going to die, and cutting off my breast won't change that. All that medicine and radiation will only make my hair fall out and make me sick. I am going to die, Yusuke, I have accepted it and you must accept it too, she had told him.
So he had to watch her die. He had to watch her get sicker and sicker, weaker and weaker. When will we tell Kohai? he had asked. Not yet, she had said. What about the others? he had asked. But then he realized that he didn't want to tell the others. He didn't want their sympathy. He knew it would be genuine, and they would mourn Keiko as he did, for they were all family. Maybe it was selfish of him, but he wasn't ready to share his despair with anyone. Except maybe Kurama. Kurama was the only one who would understand. The same thing had happened to him. Shizuru's inability to give up cigarettes was her undoing. Before she died, Keiko would go their house (she refused to go to a hospital or hospice) and they would talk for hours. No one knew what they were talking about.
He remembered how Kurama was the first one he broke the news too. He remembered what Kurama had asked him after he told him that Keiko, his love, his girl, was dying. Are you OK? Kurama had asked. Yusuke remembered how angry he was at that statement. How can you ask me that? Yusuke had demanded. I'm not the one who is dying!
I am aware of that Yusuke, Kurama had replied calmly. But when someone you care for dies, it feels like a piece of you dies with them. I simply wanted to know how you were holding up. I know you have to be strong for Keiko and Kohai. But I am here for you. Yusuke, angry, had shaken Kurama's gentle hand off and stormed away.
Two days later they broke the news to Kohai, but he already knew. How did you know? Yusuke had asked their son. Because, Yusuke Jr. had answered. I heard you and mom talking about cancer one night and I didn't know what it meant. So I asked uncle Kurama, he knows everything. And he told me what it was and said that it was what made auntie Shizuru die. He asked me why I was asking and I told him that I heard you and mom talking about it.
What did he say then? Yusuke had asked.
He asked me if I was OK. And he told me that he was here for me if I needed him.
Yusuke had been angry at Kurama. He confronted Kurama about his conversation with their son. Kurama had pointed out that he did not tell Kohai that his mother had cancer, because there is no way he could have known. He had been at the temple for a long time with Gina, helping her cope with the death of her mother. He said that Kohai had asked him a question and he had answered it. Yusuke knew he was right, but that didn't make him feel any better. He told Kurama to mind his own damn business. For a fraction of a millisecond, he thought he saw some kind of emotion in Kurama's eyes, but then it was gone. He was too angry to puzzle over what it was.
When they broke the news to the others, they reacted as could be expected. Kuwabara went into shock, silent tears falling down his face. He had just lost his sister to cancer, and now he was going to lose his sister in law as well? Hiei had remained quiet with a sullen expression. Over these years he had grown used to having a family and the recent loss of his mate's sister hit Kuwabara hard, as Kurama had predicted. He offered what comfort he could, but was still awkward in such situations.
Yusuke remembered that Kurama was the only one who had asked about him. Everyone made a big fuss over Keiko, understandably. Yusuke had felt guilty at appreciating that through all of this, someone actually wanted to know how he was doing. Keiko had asked about Kurama. Yusuke had shrugged. Keiko had said that he should talk to Kurama, and make amends, because Kurama could be there for him as no one else could. Yusuke had tried to shush her of such talk, but she had said to him Yusuke, I mean it. Make up with Kurama. Promise me.
So he had promised. But he hadn't fulfilled that promise yet. The next three months were a haze as Keiko's life journey came to an end. Kurama would stop by periodically, to check on all of them. When he left, he would always tell Yusuke to let him know if he needed anything and Yusuke would always respond with a curt nod. Then one day, Yusuke had walked into the hospice to discover that Kurama was already there. When Yusuke arrived, Kurama had bid Keiko goodbye and some sort of look had passed between them. When Kurama left, Yusuke had asked her what that look was all about and Keiko had said that it wasn't important at the moment. She had asked him if he had reconciled with Kurama yet and Yusuke looked away, like he always did when he didn't want to admit something. She had said, Remember Yusuke, you promised, before slipping off into sleep. She slept for nine hours, exactly. Yusuke had remembered that she had insisted that Kohai not come that day, that he needed time away from this place. He remembered that when she had woke up, exactly nine hours later; she had taken his hand and stroked it. He had been dozing in the chair beside her and had awakened to her touch. He remembered her saying Yusuke, it's time for me to go. He remembered that funny feeling again where he separated from his body and watched himself shaking his head vigorously. He heard beg her to hang on, just a little while longer, not yet. But she had shaken her head in that polite, firm way of hers and said it was time to go. Her last words were Yusuke take care of Kohai, and remember… she closed her eyes.
Keiko? Keiko? Remember what?
No reply. Keiko was gone.
He saw himself kneeling over her lifeless body, stroking her hair and weeping, but not really weeping. He had yet to shed a tear. The tears would come, but refuse to fall. They just sat there, collecting at his eyes but going nowhere.
He watched himself head to Kuwabara's where Kohai and the others had gathered. He heard himself break the news. Gina had burst into tears and run to her father for comfort; Kanoli had done the same. Kohai had walked over to his father and stood there, inches apart, facing him. Kohai had been preparing himself for this moment. He reached out and gathered his father into his arms. Yusuke watched himself hugging his son; he saw his son's silent tears falling down his face. He reached out and tried to rub one, but found that he could not. Since he was separated from his body he could see everyone's expression. Kuwabara looked stricken as he rubbed his daughters back. Hiei showed quiet remorse and he stroked his daughter's hair. Kurama was wearing some unusual expression. What was it? Gina was curled up in his lap, weeping. He returned his gaze to his body and his son.
He watched himself go through the mourning; he hadn't returned to his body yet. He saw the blank expression he wore at the wake, at the memorial, all through the formalities. He watched himself sleep at night, well not really sleep. More like drift into and unconscious state for a few hours. He saw himself wake up every morning with the same expression, hoping it had been a dream and then the realization that it had not. He finally, finally returned to his body at the worst possible moment: the moment of truth. He returned at the moment that they had laid his wife to rest. He remembered staggering over the sudden return to his body and the rush of emotion. He remembered that someone had caught him; a pair of strong, but gentle arms, Kurama. He remembered trying to shake off Kurama's firm hold but to no avail. So he let himself be held, supported by his friend. He still had not made amends. He promised that he would but when he went to, Kurama was gone. He had gone to the temple again, this time alone. Gina had stayed with Kuwabara and Hiei. He had been gone for six months, and Yusuke was waiting for him to return so he could keep his promise to Keiko.
But Kurama was already back. He was leaning on one of the winding branches of the Japanese maple that he always leaned on when he came to watch Yusuke.
So Kurama's back? Will Yusuke keep his promise to Keiko and make amends? And what has Kurama been doing all this time? Find out as The Letter continues.
This first chapter is stream of consciousness. Yusuke is thinking, remembering. So I put the conversation in italics. Don't worry; there will be plenty of conversation.
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