How I think Yusuke'd handle being a demon once it finally sunk in. Kuwabara and Kurama try to help the best they can.
"You are demon now, Yusuke. You will learn sooner rather than later that humans…are more pain than they are worth," Kurama said sadly with a deadened face. He was glad for the door that separated him from the freshly turned Mazoku. Kurama didn't feel he could stand to see the state Yusuke was in. Unfortunately, he could still hear the small muffled sniffles Yusuke was trying to stifle through the bathroom door. Sliding down the rough wooden panel between him and his aching friend, Kurama wanted desperately to change everything for both himself and Yusuke. Hiei was wise to have never made close human contacts. He'd never have to watch as those frail loved ones fell to time, while their demon counterparts lived on for centuries longer.
Yusuke rested on the cold white tiled floor, his back pressed firmly against the door in the hopes of keeping the reality of his situation (Kurama) out. He had tucked against his chest his mother, passed out drunk from another night of partying. He clung to her body in desperation, not wanting to believe that she was so much closer to death than he was, and he'd just died for the second time. A sob choked in his throat. Rocking back and forth, Yusuke buried his head into his mother's hair. The smell of cigarettes, beer, and sweat was a familiar fragrance that did little to comfort him as he stroked her long hair flat. A hiccup started up along with the continuing flow of tears down his marked face.
"Yusuke, please, I kn-," Kurama began.
"Stop," said Yusuke in such a deadly calm, hard way that Kurama knew there was nothing more he could do for his friend. Kurama was never really good at connecting emotionally, though. So he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. After sending off the text, Kurama listlessly laid the phone to his side and waited. The sounds of Yusuke's inner despair and turmoil were the only things in the silence of the night.
Time passed excruciatingly slow for Kurama as he waited for the Knight in shining armor to show up on a white stead. A bare pair of muddied, bloodied feet crossed his line of vision. Kurama raised his downcast gaze to stare up at Kuwabara's panting figure. Other than the various placements of bandages on his form, Kuwabara was clad in only his boxers.
"He…He that… bad?" said Kuwabara, trying to catch his breath. As soon as he'd received Kurama's text concerning Yusuke, he'd literally jumped up and ran straight out the door. The thought of his dearest friend in need the only thing on his mind as he'd raced to the rescue.
For a moment Kurama just stared blankly at the hunched over man. Then without so much as a word, he stood and passed a pair of scissors to the mostly nude man in front of him.
It was with great concern and worry that Kuwabara watched Kurama wearily shuffle out of sight into the kitchen. A tingle started up in Kuwabara's nose accompanying the sting of his eyes and the heat that seared across the rest of his face. Jaw set hard, Kuwabara breathed deeply through his nose, willing the image of a defeated Kurama to leave his mind and to keep his tears at bay. In the short time he'd known the other redhead, in all of their missions where they were mercilessly taxed physically, mentally, and emotionally, Kuwabara'd never seen him in such a despairing state. The pair of clunky, old fashion silver scissors shook in his clenched fist, the cold metal biting at his hand consuming his attention as he tried not to think of how Yusuke must be acting to trigger a side of Kurama he'd never seen.
After taking a few more shaky breathes and swallowing down his rising panic, Kuwabara turned to the door and gently laid his hand on its beat-to-shit surface. He'd made no noise in this act; spoken no words to persuade Yusuke for his entrance into the bathroom, but a few seconds passed with Kuwabara just standing there before a soft click sounded. Kuwabara listened to the hushed shuffling sounds in the next room, waiting for Yusuke to clear from the doors swing. He tucked the clunky scissor into the waistband of his bowers before pushing past the door. Kuwabara was surprised to be greeted with the image of Atsuko's inebriated form slumped between her son's spread legs.
Kuwabara's heart twisted painfully in his chest as he lingered in the doorway fully taking in the scene in front of him.
Yusuke sat curled on the dirty tiled floor, one leg bent up towards his chest with most of his mother's sprawled body lying limp underneath it. The other leg was stretched out flat, acting as a counterbalance to Yusuke's hunched form over top Atsuko. She let out the smallest of hiccups when Yusuke's tight grip around her waist squeezed her further. Both of them were carefully wedged into the cramped space between the toilet and the counter. The trash can that usually took up residence in that shallow recess was lying knocked to its side in front of the tub, trash strewn about. Kuwabara was highly disturbed to spy several murky brown, used pads in the pile.
Long strands of wild dark hair trailed the floor and over the toilet seat, forming a fragile sort of cage around the two Urameshis huddled together. Yusuke's eyes were popped open wide with an uncontainable fear; his gaze starring intensely, blankly, straight ahead of him pass the trash mess into the tub.
"Hey," Kuwabara greeted.
Yusuke showed no signs of hearing him.
Kuwabara stood starring sadly at his broken spirited friend. He wondered if Hiei would complete this evening of radical personality differences by coming in here and profess his love for him. Kuwabara shuddered at the thought, his mind reeling from the impossibility of the occurrence.
"You just gonna die like she is," said Yusuke. His words were barely above a whisper, but they echoed loudly in Kuwabara's ears, letting him know how morose Yusuke was thinking.
"Your mom'll probably die of liver failure before too long," Yusuke flinched violently at the harsh truth. "I'll be going out trying to fight on your level and getting my ass kicked. Won't die the same, but probably around the same time at this rate."
Kuwabara scrunched up his nose as the smell in the bathroom finally worked its way to him. The smell was of vomit, which was smeared between the two Urameshi's, creating the foulest sandwich Kuwabara ever wanted to witness. With a sigh, he nudged the trash from his path and reached into the tub. Cold water pelted his exposed shoulder for a brief moment, sending his teeth chattering before he yanked his arm outta the way. Bending down in the cramp bathroom, Kuwabara easily lifted the combined weight of Yusuke and Atsuko and gently laid them in the bottom of the tub. The shower sprayed ice cold water in his face for his kind efforts. Yusuke hissed and shied away from the spray, dragging with him his mother who was moaning weakly. Kuwabara left them be for a few minutes to get used to the temperature of the water and hopefully both would wake up from their stupor.