Disclaimer: All fandom-based and real-life entities mentioned in this piece do not belong to me, with the exception of original characters.

Rated T for themes, language and violence.


Of Bridges and the Rest

by four-eyed 0-0

Chapter 2: Load

Kurama had located the cleaning materials and handed gloves to the two best friends cursing in hushed voices the situation they were in.

"I'm telling ya, buddy, this has got to be the most outrageous task I've had in a long time."

"Same with me, dude. Hell, I never agreed to hold a broom unless Keiko beat me to a pulp with it. That little witch, how dare she order us around?"

Kurama closed his eyes and sighed. As much as he wanted to just blow the pollen to prevent this from happening… "I understand your sentiments, but isn't Koenma the one who consented to this after all? In a way, he probably wanted us to learn a lesson."

"Right, Dr. Watson."

Kurama rolled his eyes. Yusuke would always pull that one out every chance he could get. Truth was Kurama didn't believe his own words at all. Koenma must have wanted to teach them to not fool about while they were at missions. The little brat could be evil when he felt like it.

"Excuse me, but have you any trouble finding the tools?"

For someone disagreeable, Hitomi spoke rather politely—when she wasn't in shock and pointing a bat at them, that is. The three of them turned to her and Kurama was quick to assuage Yusuke's acid retaliation by connecting the head of the mop he was holding with his foot. Not too gently, it was a warning. He was tired and groggy and all he wanted was a nice shower and at least four hours of sleep before returning to work in the morning.

"No, Itano-san, we've found them," he answered, smiling politely.

Hitomi inclined her head. "I see. How about you start with the cleaning already? Botan-san said the 'Force' was it, would come in a few to collect the demons."

How she said 'demons' as though the word never bothered her in a thousand lifetimes struck Kurama as odd, in a good way. If humans like her would be this receptive to the changes in all of the Three Realms, then perhaps it wouldn't be impossible for humans and demons to coexist after all.

But that was coming from the Kurama who was being idealistic. No, actually, it was just Shuichi. For all it's worth, he wouldn't see the end of the conflict thinking such. It was akin to trying to undo a meter of tangled string—futile, rash and counterproductive. You might as well cut it before more string gets wasted. All he could do now was to protect those he cared for as long as they needed protecting.

Even if choosing that path meant having to put up with disagreeable fellows hither and thither. This was the life he elected for himself after all. And it wasn't like he hadn't already hoarded himself a collection of vengeful enemies to last him more than a hundred Shuichi-lifetimes.

"Itano-san," said Botan as soon as Kurama was out the storage room. Next to her were three familiar faces in similarly familiar uniforms, all positioned at the ready with their hands behind their backs, knees apart. Kurama would always find it funny how awkward the formality of the SDF members was when standing next to Yusuke.

"Here are some of the members of the SDF."

"That was quick," were the first words out of Hitomi's mouth. Perhaps the shock of the night had already come and gone that being flustered over the arrival of more strangers wasn't even possible at this point. She managed to bow, though, before saying tonelessly, "Please be on your way."

Hitomi padded behind the counter, seating herself on the stool. Before she could put her pen to use, however, she interrupted them as an afterthought.

Her eyes glinted in sudden apprehension at her realizing that after all, there were living, breathing humans not a ten-foot radius away from their location. "The neighbors, would they know about this?"

"They wouldn't," said the sole female SDF member Kurama's memory failed him to recall the name of.

Hitomi visibly relaxed as she let out a breath. "I wouldn't want to know the specifics as to how that could be but thank you."

When it was clear that she wouldn't say anything else, the three tantei exchanged a few words with the SDF members before they went with the still passed out demons and Botan flew off—("What? Botan, no fair, give us a hand, wouldja?" Yusuke had yelled, for which he was shushed by Hitomi)—, leaving behind a file containing the profiles Hitomi had requested.

And so he and his friends set out to putting the shop into some order, while Hitomi burned the midnight oil with the account books, calculating just how much her family lost in one night that the tantei would have to pay. Working.

Yusuke had already filled three garbage bags of the spoiled goods, doing more dumping—dunking—than actual filling, somehow finding a way of amusing himself with the task. He'd been shooting the goods as though they were basketballs, pumping his fist when he scored and groaning when he missed. Once, he'd tried throwing a can of sardines over his shoulder, almost hitting Kuwabara on the head as the latter was tying up the first bag Yusuke was able to load to set to a corner where it would stay out of the way. It was a miracle the carrot-top boy didn't notice as he moved so the can safely landed inside the bag, but Kurama was anyways at the ready in case a scuffle broke out.

Kuwabara, on the other hand, had been whistling and humming to himself how Yukina and his aneki would appreciate an added skill of his in stacking and rearranging, eventually breaking to a love song sung too low for even the redhead to make out the lyrics.

Whatever makes them happy, Kurama. Whatever makes them happy. And busy.

Content with mopping the floor in the distant buzz of the thermostat and rapid clicking of calculator keys, Kurama chanced a glance toward the counter where Hitomi was frowning, her hair that was supposed to be in a bun messed up and sticking to her clammy neck, head bowed to the figures she was inspecting. Either she couldn't fathom the humongous amount of cash this mission—and her decision—had let fly out the window or she couldn't come up with a scheme to fit into their already tight schedules.

Or maybe she was desperately trying to block out the noise the two friends were making, too fed up to even scold them when she already had a first time? People had their limits, and being forced to do more accounting at midnight after a long day of work and dealing with uninvited strangers rattled her as much as being forced to mop and sweep such mess after a long day of business meetings and demon-chasing rattled Kurama to the point of wanting to break something.

But he was a calm individual, a totally calm individual who was rational and just… tired. She seemed rather collected even for someone who was nearing a breaking point. And that in itself is admirable and something Kurama was proud to have himself.

And then Yusuke flung a can of diced pineapple chunks absently. It landed inside the trash bag all right—Yusuke had a lot of practice already—, but soared with a trail of syrup that gushed out of a hole in the can, momentarily hovering in the air. There was a quiet splatter, which left more sticky liquid for Kurama to mop away from the floor and brush from his sneakers when he got home.

He wasn't able to help it. He growled low, and Yusuke bristled.

Two hours later—two hours too late to get a decent shower and catch some decent sleep—, Kurama was relieved of his janitorial duties as the three of them had finished collecting all debris and saving what else could be saved from the disarray that was no longer much, with all the disposables neatly pushed back against a wall, and the still usable shelves stacked neatly with surviving goods. He allowed himself a deep breath and be the receiving end of a hearty pat on the shoulder by Yusuke and Kuwabara, animated as ever.

"Finished?" said Hitomi, rubbing the corner of her eye with a pinkie, glancing at the clock hanging by the wall behind her. "Three hours of labor by three people, that makes for a total of twenty-seven hundred. Congratulations."

The last bit didn't sound as it was meant to, for Hitomi turned to them with glassy eyes before turning away with a muffled, "'Scuse me," yawning for a good five seconds with a hand over her mouth.

"Tired, aren't you?" said Kuwabara.

"Bushed," agreed Hitomi, shaking her head in an attempt to stay awake. "Anyway, I'll just have to discuss—"

"What, really, now?" said Yusuke. Internally, Kurama groaned. Just, really.

That woke Hitomi up, the creaking of metal on concrete filling the room as she pushed up herself from her seat to appear bigger and more intimidating. "Yes, now. This'll be quick, I assure you, if you cooperate. I just need to speak to you regarding your schedules."

"What about them, Itano-san?" Kurama quickly answered before Yusuke could open his mouth.

"Before that, I have to ask, will Jaganshi-san be with you?"

"Yeah, I'd whack him if he wouldn't," said Kuwabara.

Yeah, right, thought Kurama, which Yusuke voiced out laughing.

"Shuddup," Kuwabara snapped.

"Well?" Hitomi demanded through bared teeth, miffed.

"We'll take care of it," Kurama said hastily.

"Yay." Hitomi turned to take one of two clusters of white papers. "As I had calculated, you would be working here for two hundred and fifty hours each under an hourly rate of three hundred yen—minimum wage—to pay for approximately three hundred thousand yen worth of damage to Itano Grocer's."

"Two hundred fucking hours?" Yusuke sputtered. The redhead found it a waste of energy to stop the detective; he was too worked up about the figures to do anything but stay quiet.

Hitomi merely blinked at him with her huge, tired eyes. "And fifty, but sorry, my mistake. You three, for your efforts, have now only an outstanding balance of two hundred and forty-seven hours."

"Two hundred and forty-seven hours?" said Kuwabara.

It was in his companions' best interest that they quit parroting her.

"Yes, which is almost equivalent to one month, if we were to follow the minimum of eight working hours," she deadpanned, taking pieces of papers and handing one to each of them.

Kurama stared at the small piece of paper on his hand with his human name written at one corner in neat kanji, his schedule taking up most of the center space. Before he could even read it, Hitomi began prattling once more…

"But as I'd seen from your schedules, Urameshi-san works nights, which means he could spend the midday to afternoon here at the shop, while Kuwabara-san works till four in the afternoon on weekdays and Saturdays, and is thus free on Sundays and after work at the office. Same is the case with Minamino-san and Jaganshi-san. If we were to play on these, then Urameshi-san would be able to pay off his load in thirty-five days, working seven hours a day and eight on Sundays, while the rest of you, forty-seven days, working five hours on regular workdays and eight hours, too, on Sundays."

…sparing him the struggle of having to read the writings on the paper.

"Of course, you are allowed to work under the prescribed hours, especially Urameshi-san. I'll keep track of everything anyway."

They didn't say anything.

"You'll start next week, Monday. Job description? Register, storage, stacking, delivery. Depends on the store's needs."

"Whoop-de-doo," said Kuwabara weakly.


Hiya! So here is chapter two! Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the first one and I'm hoping you've enjoyed this one (and would leave a review).

See you!