Disclaimer: I do not own Yu Yu Hakusho.

*Has been edited as of June of 2017.


It took me a while to actually figure out I was dead. I was just floating there in the sky, dreaming about being able to fly and doing acrobatics - weightless somersaults, precarious flips, and the like. I was enjoying the lack of coldness; it was winter, and I couldn't feel anything at all. Overall, I was in a good mood.

Then I made the mistake of looking below me and into Helena's River. A blonde girl was floating in the water on her back, her blue eyes wide and glassy, like a doll's. Her hair was was partially tied back, but locks of it spiraled around her face like a halo.

I screamed.

What the hell?

I 'flew' down to get a closer look. "That's… me?" I grabbed my head… well, my spirit head…

"I'm dead!" I shrieked. I slapped my body in the face. "Wake up!" My hand phased through it like it was a hologram. I stared at it in shock.

Suddenly I felt cold again, and my form began to tremble. I brushed my hand through the girl's body again, this time at a slower pace. The results were the same. Suddenly my eyes were stinging and my sight blurred. I didn't think ghosts could cry and actually produce tears, but that didn't mean my body didn't automatically recall the muscular aspect of the action.

At one point in time, minutes, maybe hours later, the coldness turned to numbness, and I could no longer produce a coherent thought.

Once the sun finally began to set, a terrible sense of curiosity somehow managed to fend off the numbness. I just had to see what had happened back on the top of the bridge, no matter what mental state it would leave me in.

What was the worst that could happen? I'd feel suicidal?

Maneuvering through the air wasn't as exciting or as freeing as it had been before my memories kicked in. There was no rushing wind, and my stomach didn't feel like flipping. It felt detaching, like I was invading a world I didn't belong to anymore, or watching from a screen.

There were traces of my footprints in the dust of snow, but they were illegible, nothing more than strange disturbances in an otherwise untouched setting. The beer can, in its silver and blue glory, was caved in on one side. It was several feet from where I actually stepped on it, indicating that it slide out from underneath my foot when I tipped to the side. Calcifer was nowhere to be seen, and the majority of his tracks were hidden under fresh snow. I began trying to suck in air, but it was impossible to do without lungs. I didn't feel like I was suffocating, but the sensation was uncomfortable, and I wanted it to go back to normal more than anything else.

I wasn't sure how long it took me to recover, but when I did, the only thing on my mind was the bridge's supporting beam - the one I had grabbed onto in my last moments. I maneuvered back down from the sky, following the trajectory of my fall so that I would find the right beam. I needed to know what had pierced my skin - or, rather, what had made me let go. I floated closer, seeing a coil of brown, green, and black contrasted against the white beam.

It was a snake. A sleek, dark, hibernating Adder, pretty much the only venomous snake in England.

I laughed. It was one of those painful laughs that made your chest sting and eyes water, or in my case, feel like they were. I couldn't control the sensation, and my stomach began to feel sore from the abuse.

A freaking snake! I would have been fine if it was any other beam! A snake, in winter, just happened to be asleep on the very beam I grabbed ahold of. I was laughing, but really, I was royally pissed off, my despair from before suddenly transmuting to cynical rage. And still, I laughed.

"I can't say that's the popular reaction," said a bemused voice. I jumped, swiveling around in shock. A voice? There was no one behind me on the bridge, which confused me greatly. I could have sworn I had heard someone nearby. There weren't any new footprints, either.

"Hello!"

This time, I rapidly floated away, scared and tense. Again, there was no one in sight. I glanced down one side of the bridge, and then the other, but to no avail. Puzzled and frightened, I slowly backed away, still getting used to the flying.

Unexpectedly, I backed into something else that was flying in the air, and I swear, if I wasn't a ghost, I would have had a heart attack. I gasped and flung myself back over the bridge, still levitating, rolling in the air in such a way that I could clearly see behind me.

The panic stopped the same time the confusion rolled in. Midair, seated on a large, black scythe, was a girl. Her curly brown hair was pinned to her head in a bun, and her grey eyes were framed by dark eyelashes. She wore a white, delicate robe that draped over one shoulder. It was encrusted with gold, which held the robe up. She reminded me of a Greek goddess. Her levitating scythe was the only thing that contradicted her theme. I could see my reflection in its head. Which, I noted, probably shouldn't be there, considering I was a ghost and all.

"No need to be afraid," the girl chuckled, hiding her white-toothed smile behind her cupped hand in a ladylike manner.

She can see me? Is she a ghost, too?

I glanced at the river below us, spotting only my empty shell in the distance. There wasn't anything else, besides trash and pollution. I peeked back up at the floating scythe.

Why the hell does she have that thing?

From the folds of her robes, the girl pulled out a tiny black book and flipped to a page marked with a ribbon. She held it to her nose.

"Gwyneth Faye, age eighteen, yes?" She peeked up at me.

"Um," I sputtered, "No, that's not me!" I backed away defensively. Denying her wasn't my brightest idea, but that floating scythe made me panic. I would've figured who she was if my brain wasn't so scrambled. At least, I got the picture.

Who do I know visits dead people with a scythe?

Was she here to take me away…Forever?

"Ah," she sighed, "now that's a more expected reaction." The book vanished into her sleeve again, and she casually placed her hands on her vehicle. "Hello, Gwyneth. My name is Charon, and I'm a driver of the River Styx."

I scowled at her, a little peeved at how she asked who I was when she knew all along.

Charon didn't particularly seem like a fitting name, as it wasn't as pretty and graceful as the girl before me, but it struck familiar chords in my head. I had definitely heard that name before.

Charon motioned to the river below, but I didn't look; I was sick of staring at my still body. "As you can see, you died."

"No shit," I cried, my patience running thin. You would think she had more tact, or a better way to approach this obviously sensitive topic. My heart began to hurt had her words, or at least where it was supposed to be, and suddenly the cold was back. I wasn't ready to hear those words yet.

"No need to be rude," the floating girl waved her hand at me. "After all, I'm here to do you a favor." I blinked at her in shock, not comprehending.

A Favor? Wasn't she here to take me to Heaven? Doesn't that scythe mean she's the Grim Reaper?

Charon pointed at my arm. "Well… Let me explain. See, we don't like snakes."

I examined my hand dumbly; the skin was unmarked, just as it had been that morning. Still, I was certain that I had been bitten by that snake when I was hanging off the bridge. A million questions ran through my mind. 'Was the venom what had killed me? Did I drown?'

The only one that managed to come to my lips was, "We?"

"As in, the rulers of the Underworld? Oh, come on. You have to know something about us," Charon exclaimed. She was answered with silence. "You know, Pluto?" Charon swung towards me in irritation. My confusion and lack of recognition seemed to get on her nerves. "Never-mind," she growled at me, brushing some loose curls from her eyes. "It's no surprise you haven't heard of us when Humanity has been declining at such a rate."

I frowned at her, not impressed. So far, Charon didn't seem like the celebrity she saw herself as. She was more of a whiny teenager.

"Sorry," I retorted sarcastically, "my bad."

Charon leveled her gaze at me, as if she was feeling merciful and would let that one slide. "Yes, well, I'll get to the point. I am here to offer you a deal."

I blinked at her. You would think that, after a while, this kind of thing would stop surprising me. Dying? The Grim Reaper? Snakes? A planet-that-isn't-a-planet-anymore? That kind of stuff was overwhelming. But a deal with Charon, who wasn't here to take me to Heaven? That just didn't click.

"What is it?" I asked on autopilot. I know they say curiosity killed the cat, but my sense of curiosity made me braver than Calcifer, or any other cat for that matter. Ironically, it was my lack of curiosity that put me on Helena's bridge - so, curiousity would have saved the cat?

Charon appeared to be taken aback by my lack of fanfare. "I-," she cleared her throat and began again in her normal, authoritarian voice. "It's a chance to get your life back."

I froze, my eyes widening. My life? Maybe this whole thing was just a dream, because that sounded pretty impossible to me. Then again, I was a ghost. But the idea of going back to normal, of seeing my friends and family again, even of seeing Erika's pretty rich-girl face, was so enticing that I answered without hesitation. Suddenly, Charon's lack of tack, in which she told me I was dead, was extremely forgivable.

"We got a deal. What do I have to do?"

Charon chuckled behind her hand again, her eyes bemused. "First thing's first, Gwyneth," she addressed me in a condescending voice - though considering she was the 'Driver of the River Styx,' she was probably hundreds of years old, so I guess it was appropriate. I was probably an infant to her. However, since she only looked probably a year or two older than me, it was insulting.

I tried not to let it bother me, since she was my only hope to live again. The keyword was 'tried'.

Charon suddenly pointed into the distance. My forgetful mind followed her finger into the river to see a limp body slowly, but surely, drifting away with the current. Hey, I was being overwhelmed, so it's perfectly understandable that I forgot that the body was mine for a few seconds. Right?

"You need to make sure you actually have a body to return to," Charon said.

When it finally hit me that it was mine, and how much distance it had covered just in the time that Charon had appeared, I immediately cried out.

"Hey! Where are the police! Where's my mum?"

A surprisingly solid hand rested on my shoulder. "You've only been gone for about three hours, and your mum thinks you are desperately searching for your missing cat," Charon comforted me. "Your friend filled her in."

Only three hours? That was all?

"So, my body is rapidly floating away, and no one even knows that I'm dead?"

"Or missing."

"You're not helping." I pinched my nose at the formation of a headache. "So what happens if I'm never found?" I asked forebodingly, not sure if I wanted to hear the answer.

"Your body will probably rot and deteriorate to the point where your soul will be rejected. At that point, there's nothing I can do about your predicament, deal or no. It doesn't take much to ruin a body," she admitted. Bile burned the back of my throat. I suddenly felt very ill.

"So what should we do? I don't know about you, but I can't touch anything, let alone carry something. We can't just drag me to dry land, or a spot that I'll be easily seen."

Charon shook her head. "You're only hope is that you know someone with high spiritual awareness."

"Spiritual awareness?" I echoed. I wasn't completely clueless as to what that meant, since it kind of self-explanatory, but I felt like I wasn't getting the whole concept. Did she mean a psychic? A medium? A fortune teller? Or was it simply someone who believed in ghosts? Lizzie was an avid believer, so maybe I could try and send her a message from beyond, but how? I turned to Charon expectantly.

"Someone with high spiritual awareness will be able to feel your presence and communicate with you in your current state, at least, somewhat," she explained.

I deflated. "So a psychic?" I didn't know anyone who even claimed to have special abilities.

"Well, technically. But I'm not talking about those famous mediums on human television," Charon flicked back her hair again. "Anyone could possibly sense spirits. Probably one in thirty humans, actually. Besides, most of the psychics nowadays are lying cheats who really have no hand in the Underworld."

I cringed away from the distaste in her tone.

"So how would we know if someone has spirit awareness?" I questioned, redirecting the focus.

"Well…" Charon scratched the back of her curly head. "Guess and check."


Lizzie emerged from her sister's bedroom, wiping slobber off of her arm. It had been a real hassle putting Sarah to sleep that night, and it was already a quarter past eight. It was partially her fault, Lizzie admitted, since she had forgotten to wake the toddler up during her nap, and now the toddler wasn't tired.

The redhead made her way to the island in her marble kitchen, stretching and yawning simultaneously. Opening her fridge, she pulled out a gallon of milk and proceeded to pour herself a glass.

"This isn't working," I cried, hovering two inches in front of Lizzie's face. Her eyes saw right through me, never once focusing on me. I had been trying to talk to her and catch her attention for the better part of ten minutes, even going so far as 'shaking' Sarah. The two year old could actually see me, Charon confirmed, and she could tell that something was wrong, but that was only because kids were more susceptible to the afterlife. When Sarah had first seen me and began to cry, I had held up hope that maybe her spirit awareness ran in the family, but that apparently wasn't the case; talking to Lizzie was like talking to a wall.

Charon, still seated on her scythe despite the fact that we were floating in a rich white girl's kitchen, brushed some of her pretty bangs from her eyes. "I can't sense anything extraordinary from her. We had better move on."

I sighed, finally relenting on my unfelt attacks. I felt my eyes blur with incoming tears as I looked at Lizzie, normal and familiar in every way, as she downed a glass of milk.

What if this is the last time I'll ever see you?

I leaned in for a hug just in case, and even though it wasn't returned, I began to feel a lot better. For about two seconds. Then I remembered my body, cold and water-logged in the black depths of Helena.


"Eydie!"

Back at my house, and inside my living room (did I mention how handy being a ghost was when you had to spy on someone? You could fly at high speeds, get to your destination in no time, and walk through walls!), I tugged at my little sister's hair. She had it in a nice little ponytail, which I could easily grab ahold of to tug on - if only my efforts translated as more than a slight breeze.

"Come on, Eydie. It's winter! None of the windows are open!"

Charon drifted toward me in intense silence and concentration. She didn't seem to notice when I pushed off the handle of her vehicle and sent her in a different direction; The head of the blade had been two inches from my nine year old sister's throat. Not that it would have actually hurt her, but the sight made me uncomfortable.

"Eeeeeeeee-deeeeeee!" I whaled, tugging at her head even harder, and even resorting to poking her in the face. She just continued on with using her Bratz doll to Karate chop my old teddy bear as if nothing was yanking her hair out of their follicles. I held my breath in case she had a delayed reaction, but the only sound was the ignored television, which played SpongeBob at a low volume. I growled in frustration.

"It's no use," Charon whined, lounging in a strange, reclining position. Her scythe was slanted downwards instead of horizontal, and she used it as a back rest while still suspended in midair. "From what I can tell, your family has less spirit awareness than the redhead. Even that child." She glanced down at Eydie as she concocted creative battle cries.

I face-palmed. Like a teenager in trendy clothes and heeled boots would ever drop kick the evil, one-eyed Dr. Theodore.

I glanced up at my mum as she busied herself with the dirty dishes from the night before. Her back was to me and she faced the sink, as well as a window. My chest physically hurt every time she paused to glance outside - I just knew she was looking for me. Her blonde hair was shorter than when I had last seen her, and I recalled that she had had a hair appointment that day. It was the reason she hadn't been home when Calcifer had gotten out.

Solemnly, I floated toward the kitchen slowly, as if I were in a trance. I stopped a couple of feet behind her, just watching her work, as I had done so many times before.

"I would offer to help, but…" I trailed off, not sure why I was trying to talk to her when I knew she couldn't hear me. I peeked over my shoulder and into the living room to see Charon examining Eydie's other abandoned dolls that scattered the carpet unceremoniously.

Like with Lizzie, I floated closer to my mum until we were touching, although, not really. I had to refrain from hugging her with any pressure because I didn't want to phase right through her and into the sink. I rested my head on her shoulder from behind, and when she moved her arm to scrub, her elbow went right through my temple. I didn't care. I wanted to stay right there forever.

I jumped away when someone knocked at the door.

"Coming!" my mum called, drying her hands on a towel that she had draped over her shoulder. When she was finished with it, she tossed it at Eydie's head. It connected with its target - Mum used to play softball.

"Hey!" Eydie cried, giggling. She tied it around her face like a ninja mask and returned to combat. "Hiya!" Apparently, the evil Dr. Theodore was on the brink of destroying the Bratz doll; Eydie was weird like that, making the bad guy win. Or, maybe, Franchesca would make a crazy convenient come-back.

Curiously, Charon returned to her upright position on her scythe and drifted to my side so we could peer through the door together.

My mum opened the door to see Tye on the other side, his dark hair dusted with snow and his cheeks unnaturally rosy. In his arms was a white, fluffy, fat cat.

"Hi, Ms. Faye," he greeted, plopping Calcifer into my mum's open and relieved arms. "Is Gwen here? I tried calling her cell, but she won't pick up."


Hey guys! First of all, you have no idea how grateful I am for all of the feedback, and I sincerely hope you stick around with me. I'm sorry for any mistakes or typos.

And I am happy to say that, after many a notebook paper, I actually have a plan for this fic, and personally, I believe it is one of my best yet. As a warning, I should tell you guys that the beginning will be focused around my OC, and will not have much to do with Yusuke and Company. Hopefully, in a few chapters (it depends on my starting and stopping points) we'll have our first meetings. I'm super excited for this fic. As for Charon and Pluto, I have a little explaining to do. I plan to introduce the European afterlife, mainly the Roman/Latin one, as a sort of counterpart to the Asian one that we see in YYH. Pluto is the equivalent of Koenma, and Charon is the equivalent of Botan. Although, Pluto isn't a baby. There are going to be many mythology references! And I know that, in the English dub, the characters make references to how they live in an English speaking country, but scratch that off, because…Well, they are in Japan.

Anyway, thanks for reading.

~Lin