Title: 50 Years Before Us

Rating: 12 1/2 (hehehe...)

Disclamier: I own nothing! Not Shishiwakamaru! Not Genkai! Not YYH or any of its characters! Not Coca Cola! Not instant noodles! Not microwavable burritos! I just own the plot.

Warning: DARK TOURNAMENT SPOILERS! If you haven't seen the Dark Tournament episodes, then...well...you probably have no clue what I'm talking about! So if you haven't seen those episodes, 'specially the Semi- Finals, then don't bother reading.

Author's Notes: Why did I write this? Merely because Shishi deserves some attention! This is his 15 minutes (or however long it take you read this) of fame! And this will be a continuing story. Please R&R!

Chapter One - The Beginning of the Lies

"...oh...Genkai...ughhh..."

Shishiwakamaru was tossing and turning in his restless sleep. Ever since he had seen that pink-haired beauty at the Dark Tournament's semi-finals, he had been having continuous dreams of the old martial arts master. Well, not of the old martial arts master, but rather the younger carnation of the feared fighter. Those chesnut eyes haunted his slumber every night...but Shishi couldn't say he found displeasure in it.

But tonight, moonless and dark as it was, brought about a different allurement. His silken, icy locks tumbled down upon his pillows in a manner of utter chaos. His fists were clenched, his breath unsteady. And he swayed like a hapless ship, rocking on a horrid ocean of cold sweat.

"...Genkia...!...Genkai...!...Ahh...!"

His words were urgent, his fear known. And even his yoki 1 was streaming out at its master's distress. He was falling into unstable pieces on his futon.

"Gen...kai...!... G-G-GENKAI!"

He awoke with a leap, immediately reaching for his Banshee Shriek 2. But only thin air was found within his shaky grasp. How could he have forgotten that the Banshee Shriek was no more? But more importantly... how he could feel so passionate over a washed-up old hag?

"No, that's not right," he whispered, crouching down in the dark. "She's not washed-up. Only I fit that description..."

It was so very, very true. He had competed in the Dark Tournament, won over all the contestiants and fans, only to be beaten by an old lady. His shame was indescribable. And he had barely lived through Genkai's attack. If the Beautiful Suzuki 3 hadn't felt compassionate towards him and used his magical items to revive him, Shishi knew Genkai's attack would've finished him off. Yes, washed-up seemed to be a word that only fitted him...

He sighed - long and hard, clearing his minds of all negative energies. Then he snuggled back into his blankets, only to find insomia clawing at his nerves. He layed there, motionless, speechless, thinking of only her face...over and over and over again. Like the continious tune of a worn melody of a heirloom musicbox. That face played on and on to a peaceful, yet haunting ballet. The symphony of lost loves and lost lovers whispered throught the eerie night. He couldn't let go of those piercing, seductive eyes.

I wonder what she's doing right now, he thought. I wonder if she too is awake tonight...

Many demons girls had fallen for him. Over and over, in his head, he could recall they're cheers. He could ask them to cut off their own heads and they would, just to please their object of obsession. Deep down, his logic tried to communicate the safety these girls held. They were controlable - easy enough to tame. That human fighter - she was another matter entirely.

But maybe that was the attraction... The longing for something unreachable had claimed his soul. She was free, an eagle soaring over the mountains and oceans. No matter how far he jumped, be it merely ten feet or ten miles, he couldn't capture her as she flew. Even if he could latch on to her ankle or arm, she would surely drop him, plunging him to certain doom.

That was his fate. To love something unattainable.

Shishiwakamaru laid down and rolled over on his back. Longingly, he stared out the open window in his room. The deep sky blanketed his thoughts, turning all his attention to the bottomless, topless heavens. Everything was quiet...but not all too quiet. It was peaceful enough to be called pleasent.

"Rrrr... I give up." The demon boy jumped to his feet and exited his room through his window. "I'll just take a walk."

The troubled demon walked until morning's light pinked the edge of the horizon. He never bothered to turn back to his home. Down the highway he stalked, that cursed face swarming in and out of his mind. He was so irriated by it, that he nearly missed that familiar, tingling spirit frequency in the air. It was faint, so faint and so distant that even Shishiwakamaru had to admit that it was miracle that he could feel it. It should be beyond his skills...

But it didn't matter. He didn't question or ponder why. He just ran, until his sandals' soles were woren to bits and he had to kick them off. He just ran, tripping down, bruising his face and arms. He just ran, biting his lip in hope until he tasted bitter blood.

When the engery trailed off the highway and into the woods, he continued to follow. Around noon he reached a temple, quiet and still. The engery flow was seeming through the windows, the doors, even the walls of the old temple. This was the source.

Shishiwakamaru slumped into a crouched ball, now letting the energy surround him, making him content inside. He held up his blistered feet and began wiping the blood off gingerly with his sleeve. He rubbed away the stream of blood and sweat that dribbled down his forehead. Now feeling more confident, the exhauseted demon stumbled to his bloodied feet. Smiling despite his condition, he staggered up into the temple.

On the floor, wrapped in many sheets, slumbered a old, crooked women with hair like pink demin. She either didn't sense his presence or didn't think it mattered. (Shishi knew it was probably the latter.)

But whether she knew that he was there wasn't the matter - what he should do now was what Shishi needed to figure out. He wanted to talk to her, but he didn't think that waking her out of a dead sleep would be a good way to start a converstation. After much contemplation, he decided to let her sleep and, during that time, busy himself with some work.

Creeping out of the room, he found the kitchen and the cleaning supplies. Picking up a washcloth and a bucket of water, he began scrubbing the kitchen down. When even the cupboard below sink was sparkling, he moved into the other rooms, washing the wooden floors. He finished that around two in the afternoon and Genkai was still sleeping. Then he went back into the kitchen and fished out food for dinner. What he found was some microwavable burritos, one cup of instant noodles, and five cans of Coca Cola. That would have to do.

He carefully warmed-up two burritos, cooked the noodles and got two cans of the coke out, and set all this out on the table. Searching for something to lighten the mood, loverboy found a melted, mutilated thing that could be barely described as a candle. He plopped this into the middle of the table. Satisfied with himself, he dusted off his knees, only to realize that he was cover in dirt from head to toe.

And to make matters worse, the little foot steps of a certain, awoken female psychic were heard in the hall. Panicing, Shishiwakamaru began racing around in circles, trying to decide what to do.

He was an utter mess: his hair was disshelved, his face bloody and sweaty, his hands bruised and rubbed raw, his feet blistered, and his clothes in rags. He wasn't very presentable and he knew that.

The foot steps were now at the door. Frantic, he dove out the open window, into hiding. Unfortunately, he overlooked the fact that they were on the second floor. His feat of daring ended with a loud BLAM.

Growling, the demon pulled his crumbled body out of the bushes, only to hear a crackled snicker sound above him.

He was covered in dirt and moss, blood and sweat from what she could tell. His hair was ragged, his clothes the same. Even his aura seemed tired. She could see the blood-soaked soles of his feet and the raw palms of his hands. She even had noticed the makeshift breakfast set out for the two of them. And so she had snickered, seeing how foolish he had come to be in his lovesick state.

"It's not funny, hag!" he hollered up to her, making her smirk grow even wider. To the untrained ear, those words were spoken with certain malice, but the psychic could hear past the obvious casing.

She was surprised he had come. When he had stood near her bedside early, she had nearly instictively attacked him. But his energy hadn't been threatening - just exhausted. She almost failed to notice that factor, a neglectance that might have proven to be fatal to Shishi if she hadn't corrected herself in time.

Watching him with an amused look, she saw all the blood and sweat poured from him on her behalf. If only his fangirls could see him now... How they would loathe him and his dirty appearence. But Genkai felt more pleasure in seeing him all worked-over and broken-in, instead of seeing him well- groomed and beautified. Not that the old mentor even wanted to see him. But if she had decided she had wanted to see him, she would rather have seen this sight.

His sword was gone... Well duh! Kuwabara had the hilt of the Banshee Shriek now. Shishiwakamaru bore no weapons, no ill feelings, and no grudges. He was here for other reasons. Reasons that uneasied Genkai slightly. She didn't like the idea of falling prey to another ill-intentioned fool, like she had for Togoro. No, she didn't want that at all. "What the heck did you think you were doing, dimwit?" she called down to him, as he glared back.

"I thought I'd try to fly. That Shinobi set from the tournament inspired me, old women," he replied sarcastically.

"That was pretty sad try."

"Like I need you to comfirm that!" he snapped back. He was trying so hard not to convey his true heart, it nearly brought Genkai to giggles. Of course, she wasn't about to show that side of her to Shishiwakamaru.

This was a little game of lies and neither intended to back down from the challenge.

To Be Continued...

1 A demon's spirit energy

2 I forget what his sword's called in Japanese, so I'm being lazy and using the English name.

3 Okay, this guy confuses me. In the orginal Japanese version of YYH, it's the Beautiful Suzuki. But in the English dubb, it's the Beautiful Suzuka! I'm going to go with the orginal name, but for all of you who have only seen the English YYH, I'm just letting you know who I'm talking about. 'Kay?

A/N's: Interesting, ne? Likey or no-likey? Whaddya say? Tell me by pressing that review button down there, 'kay? I'd love to hear from you! Buh- bye!