Synopsis : Losing the first person she ever thought of as a landmark, in decades of existence, pushes Botan to reconsider what she truly wants to make out of her life as a spirit. As she sojourns among her friends and puts distance with her ferrying duties, she finds her answers in another troubled soul.
Disclaimer : I don't own anything besides the plot and few OCs XD Yu Yu Hakusho and it's amazing characters all belong to Yoshihiro Togashi.
Prologue :
"Make sure the kids and Keiko don't go awry while I'm away alright ..."
Botan had barely registered any of it.
She could hardly make out the pleas and whispers from the guests, echoing in the giant hall room they were in, as she kept absentmindedly gazing at the huge picture that was facing its dreary audience.
Pictures were an odd thing. While photographers did a good job at capturing someone's face and expressions, it seemed like no matter how expressive and sharp one's face could be, the photography could never manage to do them any justice in the representation it produced. But maybe that was the issue. Maybe the machine and the artist were too intimidated by that kind of liveliness and heat. Intimidated to the point that getting close to the real thing was a fastidious task for them.
Intimidated by that kind of intense liveliness only a few people possessed.
And Yusuke used to be one of them.
His rich, russet brown pools, usually so strong with command and burning like wild flames, now looked like a very dull sepia on the picture they chose to showcase for the funerals. His jet black hair, that would have appeared so shiny and thick if he had been there in flesh and bones, seemed fake, almost plastic.
The complex pigments of his skin, varying from pinkish to slightly olive, were all blended in one uniform, way too perfect and unrealistic tone.
However, what hit her the most was the smile he was harboring on the picture. That smile was a formal one. One that he learned to imitate as he had grown deeper into adulthood, and as responsibilities started to pill up on his shoulders. It was a very subtle smile that would have fooled and satisfied anyone else. But for his lifelong friends, for those who had seen him at his best and at the verge of death, the charm was not taking its effect.
But she did not disagree when guests said he looked handsome.
"I guess it's really it this time… I used up all my health bars, didn't I? Geez, and here I thought y'all would've been generous enough to grant me a few more."
His fall and everything that followed had been so sudden. He got ill one day, and, barely a couple of weeks later, was already combating to not slip off on the other side. Everyone was worried but there was still a lot of hope hatched into their hearts and minds. He could not leave them just like that, could he? After everything they went through together, after all the fights he survived, all the lives he helped to preserve. After all the disasters he faced straight on...How could falling sick be the end of him? Mortals' lives were so frail, but he was not just any mortal. Not after how powerful he proved himself to be, times and times again. The idea that his life, that of a man who resurrected twice, would be so fragile was not credible.
But the bitter reality told them that it was.
He told them not to worry, promised that his situation was just a bad time they all had to bear with but that, eventually, everything would get back in order. But those words were more meant to give himself strength to cope with the time he had left, and appease his children's sadness. He could not fool anyone.
The best of technologies that had been developed in the medical field were of no use, aside from calming down the pain and monitoring his degrading health. Kurama's remedies and even Yukina's healing powers had had no noticeable effect, aside from extending his days but even them started to feel like they might have been doing him more harm than good.
The confidence they refused to let go of at first dimmed as days passed by. Soon enough, they found themselves praying to God for his recovery, humans, demons and spirits alike.
But their hero was gone.
They never knew what caused it. The most reasonable belief was that his time just had come and no explanation was needed nor existing for it.
Koenma had remained silent on the subject, which had originally created an uproar from their friends. However they realized things were out of his reach. Death was not something he could dictate, and bringing back the dead was a rare privilege he was not supposed to overuse.
Botan felt a timid tug at her jacket's sleeve which tore her off her of her line of thoughts. She casted her eyes down on her left, and met the glassy gaze of the youngest of the Urameshi children.
Ryu's eyes and nose were red from all the crying the small boy had had a hard time to hold back. His brows were slightly furrowed and his lips pursed, in an attempt to make himself look strong to the eyes of adults, to hers and more importantly to himself. There were still the trails of not completely dry tears adorning his pale, cherub cheeks.
Despite all of this, he still sat straight in his seat with his chin held high. But if his wavering expression was not enough of a give away, the slight trembling of his small shoulders was betraying his real inner state. The little boy was trying hard to make himself seem like a strong little fella, trapped between rows of crestfallen adults and teens, and, the casket of his late father.
A lump lodged itself in the middle of her throat at the unlikely sight.
"Aunty, it's our turn." his brittle, innocent voice brought her back to the present time. She blinked and became acutely aware of their surroundings, and, of the patient but nonetheless worried stares people were pinning on her.
As what was expected from her sinked in her head, she nodded once to Ryu as they stood up and started marching towards the altar, intertwining their hands in the process. They slowly walked until she found herself face to face with the worn out, aged faces of both Atsuko and Keiko. The two most important women with whom Yusuke had shared his life.
Her hold around Ryu's hand unconsciously tightened as she bowed to both women, biting hard on her lips, almost enough to draw out blood but mostly to not crumble in a teary mess before their saddened figures.
She wanted to say something, to reassure them, offer words or a prayer of comfort like she probably should, but no sound escaped her mouth. All she wanted was to throw herself in their arms, tell them she was sorry, incite them to let their real feelings out. To blame her even, if it could appease their suffering in any way. But she knew she would worsen their dispair. They never blamed her for anything and probably never will. No matter how hard she was with herself, no matter how guilty she believed herself to be, they would never consider her faulty for their loss.
They were right, but she couldn't not hate herself for being what she was. For having the privilege of being the last person to converse with the dead, to console and hug them.
And for being the one to tear them away from this world.
She hesitantly grabbed the white lily Keiko handed her as she let go of the woman's son's hand, and made her way to the center, right in front of the coffin. She stole one last glance at the displayed picture above, and delicately put the flower on top of the small pile that the Kuwabaras had put on the casket's surface a few moments before.
I wish you never left.
After bowing one last time, she let Ryu step forward and take her place, and watched with hardly restrained sorrow as the six years old's tears sprang free from his eyes, down his face.
The lump in her throat came back and her heart menaced to tear itself in a thousand pieces, as a memory of Yusuke's reaction, when he bid his children his farewells, flashed in her mind.
He rarely cried, but the few times he did, it was a heart wrenching sight to behold. She remembered that one, single, tear that rolled down his reddened cheek as he casted one last glance at his youngest son's face right before she took him to the gates of judgement.
It was a scene she had seen way too many times, to the point she thought she had grown accustomed to it. But seeing it unfold right before her, between people she held dear, broke her in more ways than she could have ever have imagined.
"Damn it," he hissed under his breath as he whipped his tears away "Is that how the old bitch felt when she left us?"