"…I got a hand so I got a fist so I got a plan, it's the best that I can do …"

From The Ashes

nine, sons and daughters of hungry ghosts by wolf parade

V

The blinking, shimmering lights welcomed her into their fold as cheery music danced in the air. Aside from the clinking of balls like bells and the rustling of clothes, everything was quiet and subdued. Nobody cared who came in or what happened, so long as you didn't disturb anybody. Best of all, this parlor rarely checked IDs, and dressed as she was now, Yusuke was sure she wouldn't get carded.

The smell of stale cigarette smoke and disinfectant hit her like a wet rag. She breathed in that familiar scent. It tingled at the back of her neck. Her skin prickled as the heater pushed out the winter cold that was beginning to nip at noses. She luxuriated in the sensation of soft cloth as she pulled off her bomber jacket.

Everything felt so real it was almost too much. It was true what they said, Yusuke decided. You didn't know what you had until it was gone. She'd spent precious hours combing through her mother's closest, through the cupboards, through the linen just feeling and smelling and knowing as if for the first time.

The sheer weight of musculature hanging from solid bone, the myriad and indescribable sensations that accompanied living—she felt like she was punch-drunk and seeing stars. Her senses were edging on overload.

Damn, it was good to be back.

Well.

Kind of.

Like a sneak peak of what was to come. She was taking the rental for a spin, revving the engine so it didn't get rusty. Though whatever unspeakable and arcane magic the Powers That Be and their toddler overlord were using to fix her up made the experience a little unnerving. Her muscles weren't suffering from atrophy, sure, and she didn't need to use the bathroom. But she also couldn't really eat or drink anything.

She couldn't even inhale the cigarette smoke she was puffing. It stopped somewhere down her throat and shot back up. Which really begged the question of why she hadn't put it out yet because nicotine tasted real nasty.

Maybe because it was something she could taste. The same reason she'd sat in that cramped-ass, too small tub and washed herself until she shined—she could feel it. She could finally feel it!

She blinked, and the feeling of lid meeting lid wasn't that different from what she felt as a spirit.

Except it was somehow heavier. More real. All the sensations of her aura were just her imagination, according to Botan. Something her subconscious rigged up because it just expected these things to happen. Like breathing or needing to move her mouth to talk.

Yusuke had gotten that lecture when she asked why she couldn't see through her own eyelids since she could sometimes see through her hands. Apparently she totally could do that if she wasn't so used to not being able to do that. The fact that she could sometimes see through her hands was more a testament to what she expected of a spirit than any real quality spirits had.

It was mind bending stuff, really. Those wandering spirits the ferry girl had worried she'd become like were apparently pretty fucking creepy—the more they forgot what living in a body was like, the less human they actually looked.

A chill slipped down her spine. Freaky.

Before she'd been stuffed back in the meat puppet, Botan had suggested she merely lounge around the house for the twenty-four hours she had it.

To which Yusuke thought only three things: fuck, that, and noise.

She flashed the big, bulky staff member in the dark glasses a smile and made her way along the rows of brilliant, neon machines. She had a few favorites but she checked the odds on the open ones anyway, just to be thorough. Pachinko was serious business, after all.

She finally picked a spot and settled into the seat. She fed a couple bills in and was rewarded with a few shining balls. She flexed her hands. It had been awhile, but they felt limber and ready. (Never mind that she remembered one bending backwards, fingers snapping between her body and unforgiving metal.)

She started it up, eyes on the prize. She let her consciousness drift, focused on the balls and numbers but also not really focused on anything. She'd told Keiko it was a lot like meditation and gotten a smack on the arm for it, but she hadn't been lying. There was something so calming about the simple task of putting a ball in a hole and leaving the rest up to fate.

Though if anyone other than Keiko ever heard that she was meditating at a pachinko machine, she'd have to commit seppuku. There was no revivification that could absolve her of that injury.

It was pretty taboo to bother someone while they were playing, but she wasn't going to hold it against the old man. In the corner of her eye, she could see him staring. Looking at her with astonishment, he scratched his chin as if he was trying to remember when he had last seen her. He was an old salaryman, one she assumed lived in the parlor because he was there no matter what time of day she showed up.

"Say, where you been, sis? Been a while!" He whispered just soft enough that only she could hear above the chirping machines.

"A whole 'nother world, man," Yusuke assured him, maintaining her pachinko face. The cigarette clenched between her teeth wobbled with the words.

He turned back to his game, apparently satisfied with her answer or else feeling uncomfortable breaking the invisible bubble surrounding each machine.

A warm, fuzzy glow burned in her chest as she twisted the knob with an expert wrist. The old guys had missed her after all. She'd been so focused on everyone who would be glad she was dead she hadn't thought about all the people who would be wondering where she'd gone.

The arcade staff, the pachinko regulars, the shopkeeper who let her buy back issues of Jump off him.

She was really getting mushy about all of it. She discovered all those lives she brushed up against while she was tearing through town. Maybe the big ones were her mom and Keiko. And maybe Kuwabara was worming his way up the list. But all those people who looked at her and saw her, noticed enough that the air was a little emptier when she wasn't there; those were just beginning to gain something in her eyes.

Heh, maybe death was good for her, if she was getting a more observant.

After a few good turns, she decided to collect her winnings and get in an arcade crawl before night fell.

One of the staff members (slightly less burly than the one at the door) came over to pull out her box and she followed him to the exchange. When she got her tokens she immediately exchanged them for miscellaneous, ridiculous prizes: a cheap pair of shades to go with her goofy cat beanie, an air filter mask with a couple of hearts on it, some toys, and a couple of volumes of manga.

She didn't have the time to blow the money she'd won—she only had twenty four hours, after all. Finding a shop to exchange the winnings for real cash would be too laborious, anyway.

She'd knocked out a couple hours and she was looking forward to making sure her score on the racing game at the arcade was still the top one.

Yusuke couldn't remember the last time she'd been so…happy wasn't exactly right. She wasn't alive yet, she couldn't talk to her mom or Keiko. Content? Excited?

One of those positive emotions at least. Things were looking up. Hell, she even had a spring in her step, like a fucking cartoon.

She rounded the corner.

And promptly dove back behind the wall, praying that she hadn't been seen.

Kuwabara! And his cronies! And Keiko's shadows!

Oh man, it was just her luck. Keiko was probably about to come out of somewhere, spot her, and then faint spectacularly into her muscular waiting arms, shirt riding up to reveal pale flesh and hair falling improbably out of hair bands—

Okay, maybe not. But there might be fainting involved.

Yusuke risked a little peek.

The girls were pressed together. They looked shaken up. The boys, for their part, looked like they had got shaken up. She hadn't seen them look that bad, ever, even when they tried to help Kuwabara win a fight.

There was just something about that big bleached baby that made him extremely punchable. Like a pain magnet.

"H-he's got a really big forehead," the pigtailed chick was saying, "like, really, really big, like…" Her hands came up as though to emphasize the vastness of this head. They were trembling. The bespectacled one laid a calming hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah that sounds like Daisuke," Kuwabara was saying. "He's been stirring up all kinds of trouble since he moved to the next school over."

Schools again. She'd run into two punks who thought they could rough her up for some cash. She'd thought it was a one-off thing, two dumbasses playing tough, but if schools really were getting involved, maybe something was going down.

Man, why did all the fun stuff happen after she got hit by a car. She pouted.

Natsuko (Yusuke thought it was Natsuko.) informed him solemnly, "They took Keiko with them."

Her heart stopped.

Keiko.

Those fuckers had Keiko.

She'd murder them. She'd rip their hearts out and eat them.

Kuwabara was saying something, but all Yusuke caught was "Hangoroshi Bar". She pushed off the wall and pelted back the way she'd came.

Shit, fuck, fuck.

Blood was rushing in her ears. That place was a shithole. Keiko was solid steel but she hated places like that.

If she had so much as a stain on her uniform…

Yusuke dug through the bag as she ran, forcing pedestrians to jump out of her way and ignoring those who cried foul at her back.

She pulled the air filter and glasses out of the bag and tossed what was left of the bag at some random kid who would probably be enthused with her hard-won manga and toys.

Those rat-faced shit-eating motherfucking cocks were in for the wrath of the undead.

Urameshiya.

—

Yusuke, Keiko thought, pleaded, for what must've been the hundredth time. Was she watching now, impotent and screaming, desperately swinging at people she couldn't touch?

Or was she off in some other world facing incredible trials to get back to their world? To her?

Keiko sniffed surreptitiously, eyeing the partying delinquents with ill-disguised fury.

If Yusuke were here she would save her. Keiko bit back angry tears, refusing to show him any weakness.

Yusuke, where are you?

She shouldn't have to rely on Yusuke for something like this. She'd made her choice. She'd used the resources available and gotten the conclusion that came with the least pain. Her friends were safe and they would call for help. She would be here, at most, a few hours.

She just had to endure until then.

Her balled fists must've attracted their attention because a few of the boys and Dai himself were ambling towards her.

"Let's pull up her skirt," Dai pronounced with a nod.

What.

She bolted off the couch, eyes flying wildly from delinquent to delinquent. A few called out encouragement, some just whistled loudly.

"Unless you want to do it yourself?" He asked as though that were a fucking option.

"You come any closer and I'll scream," she threatened, backing towards the wall as they advanced on her. She tried to go over her options. Even if she could fight off one or two, there was no way she'd make it out of the building.

She'd fight anyway. The situation was simply not ideal. She took a few steadying breaths. No need to lose her cool.

"Nobody'll hear you," one of them said. Her blood ran cold. They…they really were going to…

NO.

Dai reached for her, saying something, and she caught his face with the palm of her hand, angling her fingers so the nails tore into the skin. It was a disgusting feeling and she nearly vomited seeing blood on her assailant's face. But this was a fight. Blood happened.

He stumbled back. One of the others took a backhand strike to the nose and blood spurted. Her hand ached more than it ever had hitting Yusuke.

Now startled and angered, Dai swung a fist at her. She ducked enough that it only clipped her temple. Still, it rattled her and she careened to the floor. For a moment, everything was black and sound faded out.

There was a loud pounding in her head.

No, wait. The pounding was at the door.

She heard "…who the hell is it…" like it was coming from across the hall in the school. She focused her energy on prying her eyes open, to get a feel for the situation and divine a way to escape.

"Did you come to join the party, girlie?"

"What the hell did you do to Keiko."

It wasn't a question. It was more like a demand. An iced lance through the air that struck Keiko through the heart. She knew that voice. God she knew that voice. That tone of command that said fall in line or fall to your knees. She shuddered.

"We just wanted to play around a little, but she was roughhousing so we got brutish." He sounded so smug, like he thought he was so smart.

"So you hit her and knocked her out," Yusuke (who else could it be it was Yusuke, Yusuke, Yusuke, her heart sang) assessed. "Guess I don't need the sunglasses and mask after all."

Sunglasses? Mask? Was she wearing a disguise? Why?

Then Keiko remember that Yusuke was supposed to be dead.

"So I gotta ask: which one of you woke up this morning with a pressing desire to lay under a tombstone?"

"Hey!" A new voice shouted. "You're that bitch from this morning!"

She opened her eyes and pushed up enough to see one of them run at a tall girl. Then, it appeared that he just ran straight into her fist, spun like a top, and hit the floor.

Her lips were lined in purple and her eyes were surrounded by smoky shadow. Silky black hair was tied in two high buns. She wore a red plaid dress and color block tights. It didn't look like Yusuke, Keiko knew, but it was. Yusuke was dead and Yusuke was here in the flesh.

It was so ridiculous, but Keiko would know Yusuke no matter what she dressed like, or how she wore her makeup or her hair. There was something in Yusuke's stance, in her face, in those beautiful brown eyes that could only ever be Yusuke.

Those eyes had something like joy in them. No, not joy. There was rage and it was coiled around satisfaction. She was sating her bloodlust. Getting her vengeance. Like some godforsaken angel Yusuke had answered her prayers and come to rescue her.

He was scrambling, holding a hand to his bloody nose, trying to get up and away, maybe. Yusuke's arm shot out and caught his collar and she hauled him up, muscles taut. With an ease belied by her willowy appearance, she cocked her other fist back and slammed it into his gut. The blood from the nosebleed splattered her arm.

At least, Keiko thought it was from the nosebleed. She watched Yusuke drive a knee into his stomach as well and the man bent double over her leg. She hammered her fist down on his back and sent him sprawling.

Yusuke slammed her sneaker into the downed boy's spine, causing a rather pained screech. She ground her heel in, eyeing each of the gang in turn.

"Who's next? Or are you all gonna come at once? I'd recommend that."

The other guys looked less confident than they had been a moment ago.

One screamed: "Don't look down on us!"

Dai was quick to take up the call, "Pull that bitch down!"

The first dove for her and she spun on her heel, grabbing him in a headlock and squeezing. Another tried to jump on her back but she bent and kicked him so hard he hit the ground gripping his gut.

She dropped headlock guy, spun around, and delivered a roundhouse kick that knocked him into the next guy. She followed the momentum, bringing up her fists and knocking aside any blow in her way.

They tried to guard themselves, sometimes, and sometimes they just charged. Neither approach was particularly effective. Yusuke was a snake, weaving through their limbs and delivering crushing hits. She dropped under a fist, leg shooting out to trip someone at the same time she punched the man in the shin.

She rolled and came up in a mule kick that downed another opponent.

There was a loud crack as someone broke a bottle over her head and Keiko's mouth went dry.

Yusuke!

Yusuke was…

Yusuke was fine?

She stopped dead, holding two boys heads under her arms. She looked over her shoulder and Keiko could only just see the icy fury in those eyes.

She licked at the liquid now slicked down her face.

She dropped one of the men and threw a haymaker at the bottle-bearer.

"Don't waste expensive wine!"

It was so utterly Yusuke that Keiko had to stop herself from laughing, remind herself that she was playing dead. For some reason, Yusuke didn't want her to know she was here.

"No way…"

"Yusuke Urameshi."

They said it like a prayer. Or an oath.

"It can't be, can it? She's dead, she's fucking dead."

"What other chick fights like that?"

Some were backing away, edging toward the door. If a ghost was here to wreck vengeance than they wanted no part in it.

"I don't give a shit, whoever you are," Dai said, "Urameshi or not. A girl walks in here like she owns the place? I'm gonna teach you something, bitch."

He cracked his knuckles.

Yusuke snorted. "And here I thought Kuwabara was the only one dumb enough to attack me. In my hometown where everyone knows my name?"

It was undoubtedly her.

"You new?", she asked, and though Keiko couldn't see it she could hear the sweet smile in her voice as she continued. "You're kind of stupid aren't you?"

"Shut up and come on!"

"Sure."

Keiko only saw the shock on Dai's face as Yusuke sprung forward on legs like coiled springs. She…headbutted? Dai and threw two quick punches. There was little windup, just delivery, but the effect suggested she had put most of her strength into those blows.

Dai hit the ground, face a bloodied mess.

"IT IS HER!" Someone screamed.

"It's a ghost! It's here!"

People began streaming out of the bar, running for their lives.

When Yusuke mewled "urameshiya~" like a kitten, Keiko felt weak with relief.

What a stupid pun.

She sat up, ready to tell her off for it, when she remembered that Yusuke didn't want her to know she was here.

Yusuke spun around, a look of intense fear on her painted face.

Keiko was frozen; Yusuke was frozen.

Then Keiko caught up with the situation and leapt to her feet, sweeping a jacket from the ground and rushing towards a pile of burning trash. Probably someone with a cigarette.

"I've got to put it out!" She cried. Yusuke, for whatever reason, didn't want her to know that she was here. Yusuke was either not allowed or not able to talk to Keiko and that was fine. Yusuke had come. Against all odds, against death itself, Yusuke had found her and saved her.

The least Keiko could do was trust Yusuke. Wholeheartedly.

When the fire was out, she lay the jacket down and promptly pretended to collapse.

"I think my heart stopped," Yusuke whispered weakly.

She felt strong arms curl under her, sitting her up and maneuvering her arms so they were over her shoulders. Her hands gripped Keiko's thighs and she was suddenly lifted off the ground. A piggyback ride.

How nostalgic.

Yusuke emerged into the sunlight, a smile on her face. She'd brought the hurt and gotten her girl back. All was right with the world.

Well, not her girl. Her friend. Her girl friend. Friend who was a girl.

Having Keiko on her back was really not helping this situation.

She paused at the last step when a flash of bleached orange caught her eye. Kuwabara was standing in the alleyway, seemingly gathering his courage.

"Man, you are so late!" She laughed, a bubble of happiness buoyed up by the sound. It had been so long since she'd talked to someone that wasn't a spirit.

Kuwabara wasn't on the list after all.

It took a while to convince Kuwabara that, yes, she was Urameshi, no, she wasn't a zombie, and yes, she was still dead. It probably took longer because Yusuke herself wasn't quite sure how this whole temporary resurrection thing worked.

Then, because the sun was fading quickly, they began to head back to her home.

"There's some stupid rule that I can't communicate with my loved ones," Yusuke complained, "so I can't even talk to Keiko or mom until I'm back for good. So she can't know that I saved her."

"You want me to take the credit," Kuwabara guessed. He looked like he swallowed a lemon. "If you talk to her, you wouldn't be able to come back?"

"Yeah." At least, that was probably how it worked.

"I guess that's okay then." He consented grudgingly.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Yusuke spoke up again.

"I'd appreciate it if you," Yusuke paused. "I mean—it could be a while before I'm back for good, and I can't really do much as a ghost and I just, I need—"

Kuwabara cut her off with a steady hand on her shoulder.

"I'll watch over her for you," he said. His eyes seemed to be looking straight through, right to her soul. Yusuke was strangely reminded that she was merely a spirit possessing a body, rather than a fully living person. Botan had said Kuwabara was spiritually sensitive. Could he tell? But then again, it wasn't like he'd noticed Botan and Yusuke stalking him for a week.

She was just freaking for no reason. She shifted Keiko's weight on her back to a better position.

"She's not helpless," Yusuke defended gruffly.

Kuwabara nodded seriously. "If she needs me, though…"

He let it trail off, but she got the point. Kuwabara was offering to take up Yusuke's banner and protect Keiko in her place. It was a heavy offer—not only because it was Keiko's safety they were talking about but because it was Yusuke's job. It wasn't that Keiko never asked for help. that was entirely Yusuke's bit.

Yusuke felt blood rising to her cheeks. She refused to look at him when she nodded her approval.

"Thanks, man," she croaked.

"Hey, what're friends for?" He said, elbowing her. Then, he froze, a wary look in his eyes as he waited for her response.

"Yeah, I guess," Yusuke mumbled. As if she knew that. Like she'd ever had friends. Stuck by the need to reciprocate, Yusuke tried: "When I'm back, if you ever, I mean, if you need…"

"I'm not helpless," Kuwabara echoed her with a laugh. He patted the part of her arm not covered by Keiko.

"Sure, Urameshi."

Yusuke felt like she didn't really understand what had happened, but they walked back to her house with only idle conversation. Most of the questions had been wasted in that frantic outpouring. Yusuke found out that Kuwabara had a father who worked really odd hours doing god knows what—Yusuke, of course, reciprocated with stories of her mothers exploits. From there, it devolved into who had the most embarrassing family story.

Kuwabara took the prize, but only slightly. He had the advantage with more family members to draw on, including a grandfather who lived in Tokyo who was apparently a total coot.

He liked Megallica, Yusuke hadn't even heard of them. He promised to loan her his albums (on pain of death if they were not returned promptly). She liked MMA, he extolled the values of wrestling, and they vowed to convert the other

Was this what it was like to have friends? Just, talking about the things they liked? Promising to do things together? Teasing each other, trading friendly blows when they didn't think it would disturb Keiko.

It was…not awful.

Huh.

They'd reached her house all too quickly. Kuwabara helped her set Keiko up in a futon on the living room floor and wrote a note taking credit for her rescue. Yusuke showed him the kitchen and offered him a soda. He very politely didn't mention all the garbage lying around everywhere.

Kuwabara was a much better guy than she'd initially thought. He was still an idiot, though.

"So," he started, keeping his voice low, "you're gonna just…pop out of your body in a few hours?"

She nodded. "Don't ask me for specifics, I barely understand it, but apparently my spirit is the gluey bit that holds my soul to my body and my glue's kinda drying out from being exposed for so long."

Kuwabara nodded thoughtfully, eyebrows furrowed in that confused expression she'd seen when he was studying for his test. It startled a snort out of her.

He blinked, but she waved him off.

"Well, I'd better go pretend to be comatose until I actually become comatose."

He shook his head. "This is so freaky, Urameshi."

She huffed. "You're telling me?"

He let himself out when she went to her room to change into her pajamas again. She heard the click of the lock sliding into place. Apparently, her mother still kept a spare key on the door frame. She smiled to herself.

Then she lay back in her futon, closed her eyes.

And dreamed for the first time in weeks.

[urameshiya is the wail a ghost makes-it says "a curse on you". yusuke's name is an awful pun and she abuses it liberally.

sorry for the delay, but alas, college. looking through my old notes to try to get back on track was a ride. here's a hint. my notes for the dark tournament are as follows: dark stuff happens.]

As an apology for being missing so long, some noncanon Hiei/Yusuke.
BONUS TRACK:

"You're brutal, man!" She protested.

Hiei just snorted, yanking at the bandage even harder, much harder than necessary (in her opinion). When he had offered to help her clean and cover the cuts she'd gotten in their sparring session, she hadn't realized it was a ploy to cause more bodily harm.

He added a few more circulation-cutting rolls to the wrap.

She hissed. He smirked. "Don't be such an infant, detective."

"Don't be such a sadist, three-eyes!"

Hiei just poked her. Right above the cut.

"Ouch!" It was hard to retaliate when he was sitting so close, but she managed to nail him in the side with a knee jerk.

He, of course, responded with a shove, and the situation quickly devolved into a wrestling match. By the time they'd rolled to the stop at the base of a tree, he had one hand tangled in her hair and she had a joint lock and they were both laughing like morons because, fuck, really? They were the winners of the Dark Tournament, the strongest fighters in the human world and they were rolling around like little kids.

She let go of him to better shake with laughter. His grip loosened, but his hand didn't leave her hair.

With his free hand, he finished tying off the bandage on her injured arm. Then, his hand slid down to her own, turning it so he could examine the bruised knuckles. She marveled at how unique Hiei's body type was. Just, there were little things. His hand was shorter than hers, but much thicker, with roughened palms and thick hair. His nails weren't long, but they still came to a point.

She wondered if these were actually fur and claws, and she was reminded that this man was not human. A demon man who had once threatened her, threatened Keiko, but had redeemed himself in his roundabout, ridiculous way with his stupid, convoluted honor code.

He was almost as bad as Kuwabara, really.

He pissed her off, but she loved it. They were friends in the oddest way. Her relationships with each of the members of Team Urameshi were all so different. They fit together in different ways, but they fit together all the same.

She gave him a goofy smile, and he smirked back like he knew what she was thinking.

Hell, he probably did. Stupid mind reader.

He tangled his fingers with hers, and she remembered that his other hand was still in her hair. She should have tensed, really, because Hiei might not kill her but he could still be an ass and he could very well injure her.

But she was sun-warm and his body was always a furnace, so weirdly inverted from his ice-born blood, and she was just too relaxed to work up the energy.

He moved, slowly, like he was advancing on a frightened beast. Like he wanted to make sure she could see what he was doing.

He brought her injured hand, still tangled with his, up between them and leaned forward to press his lips against the bruises. She blinked, startled.

That wasn't what she'd been expecting. Hiei was so hard to understand sometimes. And yet, no matter how much he played "Mr. Mysterious", she usually knew exactly what he was doing, because there was something, well, intuitive here. If she'd been born a demon, she wondered if they would have been friends.

Or if they would have killed each other.

Hiei seemed to be waiting for a reaction, red (inhuman) eyes staring up into her own brown ones. She raised an eyebrow, like, what am I supposed to do when you've got my hair in a death grip? He snickered.

Yeah she knew he was reading her mind, the freak.

He pushed up onto his knees and kissed her. He didn't kiss like she'd have expected, had she expected to be kissed by Hiei. It wasn't rough or insistent or frantic. It was soft, like he expected to be pushed away at any moment. Like he was testing the border between them, seeing how far she would let him push through it.

He was gentle and it was so weird but it was also kinda right too because, she's reminded, he's a big brother and he watched over his little sister for years and nearly went crazy trying to find her. He hadn't had to try so hard in the tournament—the only one with a guillotine hanging over everything she loved was her but she'd been relying on them.

She knew when she put her trust in Hiei, he always followed through. That was the kind of guy he was. He didn't coddle her, didn't do anything more than she needed, because he also respected her: as a fighter, as a person, as a comrade.

He smiled against her mouth, where she couldn't see it but she could feel it.

She knew he was reading her mind.

Dumbass.

She kissed him back.