Author's Note: a bit of fun with the tantei, from the perspective of . . . well, you'll see. A one shot, unless inspiration bites me and a workable second part comes into play.
Warnings: random silliness, much sarcasm, and terrible grammar forthcoming. You Have Been Warned.
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01.00
Did you ever find yourself in one of those situations where you really want to scream for your mommy, because you just found out the monsters under your bed really are real, those monsters really are out to get you, and the only thing currently standing between you and the Pearly Gates is a collection of four guys who have the misfortune of being younger than you? And said younger guys are having an argument as to who gets to fight which of the pretty, drooling, pointy-toothed monsters claws, teeth, tentacles and . . . ew . . . did that goo come from those blisters bursting open, or is it just me?
You never have?
Can I trade places with you? Right now? Please?
Pretty please with sugar on top and ice cream in the middle and chocolate sauce. . . .
No? Damn. I was really hoping someone else would be interested in this mess.
I suppose I should explain some.
My name is Davrin Everest (yes, like the mountain)(and this is Japan, last name first to you Westerners, like me, out there). I'm sixteen, a highschool sophomore, and a somewhere-between-average-and-really-sucks student. My parents are a pair of that adventurous, daredevil, let's-see-who-chickens-out-while-diving-off-of-a-four-hundred-foot-bridge-into-a-lake, people, and I have to say I'm particularly thankful that they left me behind this time. The alternative was taking me with them on their hitchhike across the Antarctic continent, and I do not like the cold. Or adventure, come to think of it, which makes this whole narrative escapade rather ironic, if all events are taken into consideration.
The reason I'm cowering . . . well, cowardly, behind the group of younger boys is in that corner over there – the one with the . . . five . . . big, bad thingies. Ooh, boy, did that one just get bigger?
The first big, bad thingie is a kind of bloody red, with pinkish-orange splotch-like blisters that explode at random intervals into green goo. It's about six and a half feet high, I'd say, three and a quarter feet thick, and has this really big club in one hand. But the goo is scarier – there's holes in my floor from the goo.
The second big, bad thingie is a mellow yellow (ooh! It rhymes!), with horns, three arms, and an extra half a foot. It's rather little, only a meter or so in height, and another meter thick, so it is rather fat. In each grubby little hand is an electric green knife that looks Really, Really sharp. I know it's sharp, the little monster was giving me demonstrations with the knife and a kevlar vest my mommy gave me for my birthday when I turned ten. Wonderful parents, right? Said vest is now in eight different pieces upon the hardwood floor. And I waste more of my parents hard earned (insert random snickering) money.
The third big, bad thingie is a shapeless blob of black-eye purple that is eating my dresser. Enough said.
The fourth big, bad thingie is Cute, capitalization included. It looks vaguely humanoid (translation, it has two arms, legs, eyes, ears, and one nose, mouth, and torso), but the skin is some kind of sunset violet, and the eyes are a very pretty shade of greenish-blue. It has hair, too! Long, shiny, silver hair. But it also has big fangs, and a very big sickle in its hand. So, no touchy the cute monster. Ooh! Doggy ears! . . . . Never mind me.
The fifth big, bad thingie is bad. Very, very bad. It takes up a good third of the room (it got Bigger), and has five legs and something resembling an arm last time I looked, but that has changed three times already, so I wouldn't bet on it. It is also Very Fat. And furry. And is this really awful, putrid, sickening, not very pretty or cute, salmon pink color. Gaah! Save me from the pink! It expands!
Hmm. It looks as though the monsters are sick of waiting for the Group of Younger Boys (which they will now be referred to as, collectively speaking) to decide whom fights whom, and the pretty monster in signaling the fat monster, who then adjusts his bulk so that the pretty monster is not quite so obvious.
The pretty monster is now stalking toward me, and not looking very pleasant, if I do say so myself. Erm, Group of Younger Boys? A little help here? If you're going to go into the monster-slaying business, try to keep the monster attack-ees from being BLOODY KILLED!
None of them have noticed.
Mellow Yellow finally speaks out, annoyed, I suppose, by the lack of action. "Are you done cavorting, yet, because if not, we'll just take what we're here for and leave?"
The accent is abysmal, and words are mostly mispronounced, but Mellow Yellow does speak in passable Japanese. I wonder if it also speaks Monsterese. Then I wonder where one would learn to speak Monsterese, or if there was a Monsterese to Japanese dictionary, and thought, if not, that might be why Mellow Yellow's Japanese is so pathetic, and now there is a lot of noise, movement, and general chaos, so I don't do anything other than cower in the corner behind the Group of Younger Boys, while the pretty monster slowly comes closer.
"Help?" I ask.
Everyone ignores me. Go figure, right about then the pretty monster reaches me.
"Help?" I ask a bit louder.
This time, one – no, wait a minute, two – of the Group of Younger Boys turn. Eyes widen dramatically, I'm damn sure the greasy-haired one swore, and then the little one wasn't slicing up the black-eye purple monster, but is instead flitting forward to jump heroically between me and the pretty monster.
"Don't even think about it," the little one says.
I will take the resulting pause to describe the Group of Younger Boys, because they are working at saving my life, and you should always be nice to those who try to save your life.
The one guarding me is little. But, as a plus, he's taller then Mellow Yellow, but the little one looks more or less like a human child – around ten, twelve, to go by appearance. He has electrocuted black hair ( I'm being serious, his hair is standing on end) , but the bangs, which are also on end, are white. How cute. I wonder how much his parents got when they sued his hair stylist. The little one is holding a very dangerous sword, however, that is already coated in some kind of black-on-black blood type stuff from the black-eye purple monster. It can also be noted that he is wearing black, and that he is very fast.
The greasy-haired one's hair isn't really greasy; he's actually got it gelled back. I just abhor hair gel. He's wearing this absolutely vile green school uniform (I am very glad I'm attending a private Western-styled boarding school; no uniform), and the color clashes hideously with his very Japanese features – black hair, dark eyes, tannish-yellow skin, the works. He looks about fifteen, sixteen, but I'm betting younger; I think it's the gel that increases the age. He's making a finger gun, and pretty balls of light are blowing my floor, ceiling, walls, and furniture to Hell as they collide. He was fighting the vile pink thing.
The pretty one is a very vibrant red head, but in a good way, with his hair long. He is very obviously not fully Japanese, I'm guessing over half is European. His eyes are a pretty green, very bright, and very cold, and very wicked. His skin is pale, and his uniform is worse than the greasy-haired one's. It is pink. AAGH! It clashes horribly with his hair, skin, eyes, and general existence. Green, maybe certain shades of blue, would be a better color on him. Oh, yes, and he's also wielding this long, thorny whip that he transformed from a rose, no joke. Well, if monsters can attack, why can't the pretty red head turn a rose into a weapon. He has the pleasure of going toe to toe with Mellow Yellow.
The last one would be called ugly, in polite terms, and impolite terms are not something I care to think about in reference to him, so I'll suffice to say he is very ugly. His hair is red, but more orangey than the pretty one's hair, and is styled into a pompadour. He's also very obviously of European descent. I can't see his eyes that well – the little one has huge dark eyes, the greasy one had large dark eyes, and the pretty one had somewhere-between-huge-and-large green eyes – but his are small, and I'm willing to bet beady. However, he does have the best uniform (not counting the little one, as the little one wears black and white), because his is electric blue. . . . . Okay, it's not that much better, but still. . . . He's fighting green goo with this flickering sword that magically appeared in his hand. It kinda reminds me of Star Wars.
Well, now that being nice to the rescuers is done, let's resume our scheduled programing.
The little one threatened the pretty monster. The pretty monster stopped moving, and sneered, showing off its impressive fangs. At least, I am impressed; I'm not sure the Group of Younger Boys are.
"Back away from the Ningen," the pretty boy orders in a rather stern and cold alto voice. I wonder if his voice has broken yet, and then what the hell a Ningen is, besides what the pretty boy is calling me.
Things appear to be at a standstill.
The little one shifts his grip slightly on his sword.
The pretty monster adjusts his grip on his scythe.
The greasy one aims his index finger at the pretty monster.
The pink thing grows bigger.
The pretty boy draws his whip tightly.
The Mellow Yellow prepares to throw a knife.
The green goo adjusts its club.
I watch nervously as the last one, the black-eye purple one, begins to seep toward the greasy one.
This is not my day.
In the twenty minutes since the monster/Group of Boys quarrel, I do believe I have fallen into shock.
The Group of Boys has ever so graciously allowed the monsters to call their debate a draw – or is it the other way around? – and now I'm sitting at the school café ( two floors beneath my room), surrounded by the Group of Boys. They are all looking at me with these very scary, very serious expressions.
Greasy is smirking, and looking condescending and faintly egotistical as he (again) tries to explain why the big bad monsters were lurking evilly in my room. It hasn't been working well so far, we haven't even gotten the preliminaries over.
"So, wait a minute, back up. You are Urameshi Yuusuke. You are the leader of a group of Spirit . . . detectives."
Somehow, even in light of all recent events, this did not seem likely. Maybe it was that fact that Urameshi-kun appeared to be a delinquent . Nah, it couldn't be. . . .
"For the third time, you moron, yes!" Urameshi-kun shouted.
He needs to work on his manners.
"We've wasting out time. We should just get the bauble and leave." The little one glared at me coldly.
Well, I was all for them leaving. Gratefulness for them saving my life aside, the only one who appeared to have any semblance of style and savvy was the red haired pretty one – who, by the way, after asking me if I was all right, just sits there looking amused. Grr.
"I would, but I don't know where it is," Urameshi-kun grumbled.
There's a silence in our part of the café.
Urameshi-kun looks rather embarrassed.
The ugly redhead windmills his arms in furious anger, face flushing curiously to match his hair. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU DON'T KNOW WHERE THE DIAMOND OF ROBI-"
Pretty one corrects him gently. "Ruby of Re!qqiwi:ttzxe'l."
"Yeah, that, well, WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON'T KNOW WHERE IT IS?!?!?!?!?!?!?!"
I stare at the pretty one. "Say that again."
All four turn to look at me. "Do you-" the little one begins, only to be cut off as Urameshi-kun nods tersely at the pretty one.
"Re!qqiwi:ttzxe'l?" the pretty one asks.
I nod.
"Re!qqiwi:ttzxe'l, the pretty one says firmly.
I stare at him in shock. "How the hell do you wrap your mouth around those syllables?!" As an afterthought, I add, "and can I have introductions?"
The Group of Boys; Urameshi-tachi, look at me anticlimactically.
"That was all because you couldn't believe Kurama could speak that?" Urameshi-kun said slowly.
"Yeah."
Urameshi-kun looks as though he would like to kill me, slowly and painfully. Remembering his finger lights and the holes in my room, I take the precautions of scanning the café for exits.
"You . . . why you . . . stupid!" Urameshi-kun is practically frothing at the mouth. I 'eep,' and slouch lower in my seat.
Bad, bad Everest. Don't insult the guy who rescued you with a finger gun.
"I am called," the pretty one begins – I suspect, to dissolve the rather murderous tension in the air, "Shuuichi." He does this nifty little half bow, half nod.
The little one snorts at Shuuichi-kun's motion. "Bowing to a Ningen, Kurama?"
"Being polite never harmed anyone."
Wait a minute, is the guy's name Kurama, or Shuuichi? Is Kurama a pet name? No, Urameshi-kun spoke it, as well.
GAAH!
"I am the biggest, baddest punk at Sarayashiki Junior High, Kuwabara!"
That's something to be proud of?
Urameshi-kun looks angrier. "NO! I'm the biggest, baddest punk at Sarayashiki Junior High!"
Those two are scary. . . .
"What losers." The little one jumps up on the back of the booth.
"Hiei-" Kurama-k – er, Shuuichi-ku – er, Kur – Damn it! Kurichi-kun said quietly.
Kurichi-kun has a pretty voice.
"Ahem. Kurichi-kun?" I ask.
Urameshi-kun and Kuwabara-kun turn to stare. "Kurichi-kun?" they ask in unison, then turn to Kurichi-kun.
Kurichi-kun blinks. "What?"
I shrug, albeit a bit self consciously. "You didn't tell me which one was your name."
Hiei-kun snickers. "Kurichi. That's a good one, Kurama."
Kurichi-kun smiles at me. "It doesn't matter what you call me. Now, why don't we try this again."
"How come he listens to Kurama?" Urameshi-kun sulks to Kuwabara-kun.
Kuwabara whispers, "Well, you listen to Kurama."
"We're called Spirit Detectives, and we work for the Spirit World, called the Reikai." Kurichi-kun watches me carefully.
I blink. "You work for the gods of the afterlife?"
Kurichi-kun half-smiles. "Yes. Our job is to investigate and deal with artifacts and demons from the Makai. The-"
"Wait, Makai?"
"Demon world."
"Is that where the monsters are from?"
Kuwabara-kun and Urameshi-kun snicker. "That answers the question, are you a natural blond."
Jerks. Although, they did answer my question. . . .
Kurichi-kun glares at them, and the cold and wicked glint I saw in his eyes in my room returns briefly. It is gone by the time he looks back at me.
"Yes. The five demons we met today are paid mercenaries of a cult that is trying to discover the Ruby of Re!qqiwi:ttzxe'l, which is believed to be located on the Ningenkai-"
"Ninja-whatsis?" I interrupt.
"Ningenkai, the plain of existence where Humans, or Ningens, live."
My head is starting to hurt. Makai, Reikai, Ningenkai, Ningens, demons, monsters, finger guns, rose whips, and my destroyed room.
Ooh! Watch my sanity take leave of my skull!
"Unfortunately, they have tracked the location of the Ruby to you. That is why the demons invaded your room."
I have the Ruby of Reblahblahblah? Why haven't I noticed this magical, wonderful ruby?
"What?"
Kurichi-kun sighed. "The-"
"No, I got that part. By why do they think I have it?"
"It's beyond me, you show even less intelligence than the monkey over there," Hiei-kun bites out sarcastically.
I do believe I've been insulted.
"So now that you know the full story, can you tell us where the stupid jewel is?" Urameshi-kun crossed his arms and glared.
"Em, no."
Kuwabara-kun grabbed the table in anger. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, NO?!"
Once again, in face of Kuwabara-kun's rather scary anger, I 'eep.' And then I slide under the table, pop up on the other side, and carefully maneuver Kurichi-kun between me and the scary redhead.
Help!
"Looks like you finally found someone who's afraid of you, monkey."
Three guesses as to who that was, and the first two don't count. Hiei, you say? You're right.
"Excuse me, Davrin-san, but why can't you help?" Kurichi-kun twists as best he can to look at me while I cower behind him. He actually does pretty well; he's very flexible. Especially seeing as he's a guy.
"Because I've never seen nor heard of this special ruby."
"What's in your ear, then?" Hiei's voice is colder.
I let go of one of Kurichi-kun's shoulders to touch my right ear. "This? This is a piece of glass I found on a beach in America. My friend backed it with some cheap silver, and pierced my ear. It's not your ruby."
It was true, the thing was a cheap piece of glass. Mars had pierced in back in Jersey, he said it made me look cool, and then told me if I took it off, he would come after me. Considering he was polishing his kitchen knives right the – and we've all seen my version of courage – I haven't touched it to do anything besides clean the ear. I wonder if it's fused into my skin by now, it's been there for six years, undisturbed besides some hydrogen peroxide (H2O2), and then I wonder what I would do if it was fused, and if I would have to have surgery to remove it, and if –
Hiei-kun, big jerk, jumps over to crouch on Kurichi-kun's shoulders, so than my left hand is now in agony, and he pulls my right hand away from my ear to inspect the earing closely.
Stupid boy is breathing down my neck, hands pulling at my ear, to look at the stupid thing.
And then he mutters under his breath, and a warm, bright light appears in the corner of my vision.
"GAAH! What the hell was that? Get off!" I try to shake the little monster off, but all I get in return is a sharp rap on my head.
Ooh, look at the pretty spots! The one monster – no, demon, that's what it was – had pink spots that blew up acid. My bedroom floor in ruined. The pretty demon was in my bedroom. He ran away with the rest of his friends. I wonder if he's going to come back? He helped make my room messy; he should clean it up. But no, he's a demon, and he might bring the ugly demons along, and I'd be sad. . . .
Ooh! That tickles! The small boy is playing with my ear, and the pretty one is bending close –
"Kurama, look at this spellwork."
"I see it. He can't have done this on his own – how hard did you hit him, Hiei?"
"I just tapped him. Now we can look at the stupid earing. . . ."
Mars finished the glass and made the earing for me. He pushed it in my ear when I was sleeping, and when I woke up it was bleeding a lot, and he said just be glad it was your right ear, not your left, and then he kissed the earing, and I felt very tired. He told me to never ever take it off, and then he started sharpening the dull butcher knife, so I agreed, and he made me promise, and I miss Mars, he died a few years ago.
Aww, the pretty spots are going away, and the ringing in my ears is fading. My eyes are focusing again, and I think it's time for another eep.
Hiei-kun is looking at me like he wants to string me up and roast me for dinner, and he's scarier than Kuwabara-kun.
"How did that earing get into your ear? And who put the spells on it?" he demands.
"Spells?" Urameshi-kun glances at Kurichi-kun.
"The earing does indeed carry fragments of the Ruby. However, someone used the very nature of the Ruby to bind it into Davrin-san's skin, sealed it in blood, and left it there. The only way to get the Ruby back is to kill the spell, and to do that we need the caster – or kill Davrin-san ourselves. No doubt, that is what the Remvarliant group was planning to do." Kurichi-kun's green eyes are cool, impassive, and decidedly wicked as he looks at me.
Urameshi-kun and Kuwabara-kun both transfer their gazes to me, and they are stripped of their former amusement.
It's very hard not to squirm when they all are looking at you like that. I have no doubt that they were thinking about killing me. Mars was the only other person that's looked at me that way, and the first time he did so I fell unconscious from fright. I may be ten years older now, but if they don't stop it, I think it's going to happen again.
"Wha- what's going on?" I ask faintly.
Then, Kurichi-kun pushes a stand of hair back, and I remember when he did that at my room, and brought out the rose that turned into the whip.
The next thing I know, everything is turning black.
Everything is still black when I wake.
It's not a comfortable black, either, more of a murderers-lying-in-dark-alleys kind of black, or the kind that your room is at night when you're really little, and you still believe in the Bogeyman and the monsters under the bed. Its complete, shrouding all, with only the tiniest pinpricks of light that show exactly enough for your mind to supply pictures of massive, drooling anomalies that moan for your blood. Or not. But, hey, considering the day I've just had, I'm willing to believe just about anything. And that lump of black-on-black in the corner is breathing, it's not my imagination.
I gulp quietly, and direct my limited attention to myself.
I'm lying in a mat of some kind. No, a sleeping bag – by now, I can recognize the feel of a sleeping bag anywhere. I've had the misfortune of sleeping in them for far too many years. I remember this one time, in New York (state, not city) in May, we were hiking through some national forest. The weather forecaster had said the day before to expect high 60's to low 70's in temperature (Fahrenheit! That's. . . wait a minute, let's remember Science class. . . Fo (n-32) x .555; therefore 19.98o to 24.42o in Celsius. Conversions between metric and. . . American . . . suck, because I learned American as a kid, but I keep going to all these Euro and Asian schools), so we packed our light stuff. To make a long story short, it hailed. For three days straight. We stayed in our sleeping bags for three days straight. Western New York sucks.
Anyway, I recognize I'm in some sort of sleeping bag. And there's something cold on my forehead, probably for the bump Hiei-kun gave me. However, my head is clear, so I sit up.
The scary lump in the corner is Hiei-kun, who appears to be meditating or something. Next to him lies his sword, and a damp rag, and a stone of some kind. Perhaps he was sharpening it. He was fighting with the black-eye purple monster . . . .
"Kurama will be coming by with food soon. Can you stand?" Hiei-kun asks, dark eyes gleaming in the dark.
I jump. "Wha!? Erm, yes, I can move."
Silence falls. Evidently, this Hiei-kun is like my dorm mate last year. He didn't speak, just kind of sat there. He was wiccan, I think. Very quiet, and mysterious, and absolutely adored by the female population of the school. It was hell. Girls kept coming up to me for the sole purpose of, 'Davrin-kun, do you think Agricola-kun likes me?' "Davrin-kun, what kind of underwear does Agricola-kun wear?' 'Davrin-kun, could you get me a picture of Agricola-kun?' 'Davrin-kun, does Agricola-kun have a nice body?' By the end of the year, I snapped in the middle of the café: 'for god's sake, I don't know, and I don't care! No, I will not get you pictures of him naked! Go away!' It worked a bit too well, I haven't spoken to a girl at all this year. And as to Agricola Ares, he was dating some pretty boy from another school.
After a while, say half an hour, Kurichi-kun arrives with a bag of takeout. He's changed out of his pink uniform, I note, into a white Chinese silk tunic and matching slacks, with a pale green sash. He really is pretty, especially in those colors.
Kurichi kneels next to me, and says, "Hello, Davrin-kun. How are you feeling?"
I hear a quiet snort from the corner, and judging from that and the twinkle of amusement in Kurichi-kun's dark eyes, I'd say he and Hiei-kun are laughing at me. Jerks.
"I'm well, thank you. I'm grateful for the rescue."
Kurichi-kun smiles in response, and begins serving the boxes.
"Er, Kurichi-kun? Where am I?"
Kurichi-kun blinks. "We transported you to a safe location after you fainted."
Ah. Wait a sec, that reminds me. . . I reach a hand up and brush the pad of my thumb along the glass in my ear. Kurichi-kun notices the gesture.
"We are unable at this current time to take the Ruby out of your care, so you will remain in our care for protection until such time. Furthermore, tomorrow we will take you to Koenma, in hope he will be able to help."
It's a pretty speech. Kurichi-kun's very polite, and very well-mannered, even by Japanese standards. It's up for debate whom I prefer, Europeans, Americans, or Asians, but Kurichi-kun has the best manners by far of all three groups. It's rather stereotypical, but Americans are really quite a bit more friendly with people than Japanese. Europeans have the monopoly of the touchy-feeling stuff, though, no matter what you read in manga.
Wait, back up.
"Whom?"
"Koenma is our boss, you might say. As Spirit detectives, we report to him."
Ye, gods.
"Oh," I squeak, and curl back under the sleeping back. "What time is it?"
Kurichi-kun answers after looking at his watch. "Around ten thirty at night."
Ah. I'm rather tired, considering my day, so I settle into the sleeping bag with practiced ease. Hey, don't laugh, it took me a long time to learn how to sleep in a sleeping bag without lying awake for hours, I'm proud of my skill.
My eyes fall heavy, and I begin to doze.
Through a haze, someone speaks.
"We should just kill him and take to Ruby. It would save everyone quite a bit of trouble."
"I've done some reading, Hiei, and that is definitely not all of the Ruby. We can't kill him until we get all of it, and we're going to need him to get it."
"What? Why would we need this stupid, weak Ningen?"
"Because part of the fragments contained in the earing is the Heart of Re!qqiwi:ttzxe'l, and we'll need that heart in order to identify the other pieces. Also, the Heart has been bound to him, through several sophisticated spells – I'm not surprised the mage who worked them is dead, all things considered. Working spells of that level and intricacy is a deadly trade. Enma may have even forced his death. If we kill him, the Heart shatters, and we have no way of identifying the rest of the Ruby."
"That's a bad thing?"
"You know it is."
"Hn. I'm worried about those mercenaries the Remvarliant group hired. They're well-trained, and with five of them, we're luckier than those two oafs realize to have ended the fight as we did."
"Yes."
"And protecting the Ningen will be difficult with them around."
"Not as much as it could be."
"Hn?"
"Kieran won't let anyone actually kill him."
"Hn?"
The haze thickened to black, and the sounds faded out.
I wake to someone shaking me roughly; upon inspection, it is Hiei-kun, so I sit up. "Wha?"
"Get up."
I stumble to my feet, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and silently follow Hiei-kun down a hall and into a bathroom.
"Clean up and get dressed. When Kurama comes back, you'll eat, then we'll leave."
The dark-haired child drops gracefully in front of the door, and I sqwack. "You're staying here?!"
Huge dark eyes focus coldly upon me. Those eyes are scary. . . like he's dreaming of my death. Remembering his comment on how it would be easier to kill me, I 'eep.'
"Yes."
I quickly strip off my clothes and climb into the shower. It's a crappy shower. More or less clean, but there is no hot water. Brr. Goosebumps . . . . There is soap and shampoo, however, so I'm not dying.
There's a change of clothes on the sink, and Hiei-kun is still sitting in the door, when I come out. The clothes aren't mine, but my dresser was eaten by one of the monsters. . . demons. . . I forget which one, so it's more than I expect. From the fit, I'd guess Kurichi-kun, but the jeans and pullover don't exactly seem to be his style. But, hey, I've just met the guy, how should I know?
I finish dressing (thank the gods my hair is short enough not to require grooming), and Hiei-kun and I leave the bathroom. Kurichi-kun is standing in the room I slept in, and while he does have another bag of takeout (McDonald's, go figure), there is no sign that I slept here last night. I remember how Kurichi-kun said I'd be staying in their protection, and that funny dream I had where two voices – Hiei-kun and Kurichi-kun? – spoke about killing me, and about their special Ruby, and shudder. Right now, it's a little hard to remember that Hiei-kun and Kurichi-kun are deadly, but thoughts of yesterday serve as a good reminder.
"Here," Kurichi-kun hands me some kind of package – ooh! A breakfast fajita! – and tosses something to Hiei–kun (a chocolate milkshake? What the Hell?). "Shall we go? Kuwabara and Yuusuke are meeting us at the park in fifteen minutes."
Munching on the greasy food, I follow the Kurichi-kun out of the building and through the streets. Hiei-kun follows behind, and I wonder for a moment how someone with such short legs can keep up with long-legged Kurichi-kun and myself, but then remember how quickly he jumped between me and the pretty monster. I wonder which's faster, a speeding Hiei-kun or a speeding cheetah, and ponder the question as the three of us march through the early morning rush.
We reach the park with five minutes to spare, and Hiei-kun jumps into a tree (yes, that's right, he jumped into a frickin tree). Kurichi-kun and I sit on a bench to wait for Urameshi-kun and the very scary Kuwabara-kun.
They arrive twenty minutes late, complaining about thugs that had jumped them on their way.
"There was thirty-eight of 'em, so it took us a little while because one of 'em was a girl, and Kuwabara kept trying to block when she went after him, so I had to take on all of 'em by myself," Urameshi-kun sighs.
Kuwabara is sulking, nursing his bruises. "You shouldn't fight girls, Urameshi," he mutters.
Urameshi-kun snickers. "You can't fight girls, they always kick your ass. Your honor code about 'em is just a coverup for –"
"Really, boys, could you act more mature in front of our guest?" a voice asks from behind us.
I jump, and turn. No one else does.
A pretty, blue-haired girl wearing a kimono and floating on an oar is sitting behind Kurichi-kun.
"Can we go yet, Botan?" Urameshi-kun demands. "I wanna get this wimp off my hands as soon as possible."
Eh, explanation?
Hiei-kun drops stealthily from the tree. At least, I think he did, because suddenly he's standing next to Kurichi-kun, so I'd assume so, but . . . .
The pretty blue-haired girl – let's call her Botan-chan, because that's what Urameshi-kun did – rolls her eyes, and we leave.
After we arrive at what I can only call a large office building where the staff is made up of more monsters, I begin blinking because my head is spinning. And my ear hurts, dammit. But, hey, more pretty colors have started swirling through the air, so it's kind of cool.
Damn, I've seen more swirling colors and lights and junk in the past day and a half than when Cocoa got me into Marijuana back when I was twelve. . . there were fireworks when my parents found out. I spent two months in rehab, but that's not what worked – the vision of my father coming after me with his gun worked. He apologized afterward, but I nearly soiled my pants when he went for the safety.
We walk through the Monsters' General Office, and finally come upon a private office. Inside is a big desk, a large stack of papers, and a blue blob just barely visible.
I blink.
Urameshi-kun groans. "Koenma! I didn't crawl out of bed at six in the morning to bring the guy to you just so you could ignore us when we got here!" he half-shouted, waving his fist threateningly.
A cool voice answers, and a round, baby-face with a pacifier looked up. "I'm a little busy here, Yuusuke. Come back later."
Kuwabara-kun went ballistic. "Dammit, Koenma, take care of the stupid kid so we can go home!"
Koenma? This. . . child? Dear gods, what is the world coming to? Ten year olds with swords, monsters in my dorm, finger guns, rose-turned-whips, and now a two year old as the Group of Younger Boys' boss (you thought I had forgotten to call them that, didn't you. Well, nyah nyah nyah, nyah nyah, nyah).
"Oh, all right." Koenma hopped up onto his desk, and pulled me forward by the string of the hoodie. "Turn your head so I can see the Ruby," he demanded, shoving my chin in the appropriate direction.
. . . Little prick. Someone's spoiled. Ouch. My neck hurts . . . .
"Hmm." "Hmm." "Hmpf." "Well, well, well." "Hmm?" "Ahh." "Uh huh." Koenma continues his comments throughout his dragging my head at different angles. Little jerk.
"Well?" Urameshi-kun demands after ten minutes.
"The earing is connected to his very life force."
Haven't they already gone over that? A tick in Urameshi-kun's felt eye confirms my thought.
"We can't remove it without killing Everest-kun, and killing Everest-kun would shatter the Heart of Re!qqiwi:ttzxe'l, whish would be bad."
Urameshi-kun growls. "We already knew that. Can't we get the damn thing off him some other way?"
Another long ten minutes of 'hmms' and such. Kurichi-kun exchanges a long look with Hiei-kun. Kuwabara-kun falls asleep, and crashes to the floor. No one notices, or, if they do, no one cares.
"No."
Urameshi-kun looks fit to kill. "So now what?"
"You have to take him with you to find the remaining fragments of the Ruby."
This is sounding rather Inu Yasha-ish. Does this make me Kagome? Hmm. . . Hiei-kun would be Miroku, and Kurichi-kun Sango. Urameshi-kun would be Inu Yasha. Erm, I guess Kuwabara-kun can be Shippou. . . if you're drunk out of your mind.
"What is this a shojo manga?!" Urameshi-kun demands. Woah, de ja vu.
"Hmpf. The Heart in his earing will react when near another fragment. You'll collect the fragments, and place them in the earing."
"Why?" Urameshi-kun asked bluntly.
"Because once the earing is complete, Everest-kun will be able to remove the earing."
It's rather demeaning to be called -kun by a toddler, but I stay quiet.
You already know I'm a coward. So sue me. You can stand up for my rights if you want to.
"How long will this take? Where are the fragments?" Hiei-kun finally speaks.
Koenma pales slightly. "I have no idea. However, Botan can take you where you need to go. Everest-kun is still under your protection. Now, leave! Out! I have paperwork!"
The five of us plus Botan are hustled out of the office, still in shock.
Urameshi-kun is the first to come to his senses. "Oi! Keiko's gonna kill me!"
I stood there. These people would be surrounding me day and night.
The monsters are still going to be coming after me for an earing that I know is glass, but all of these people seem to believe is a fractured ruby.
Would you like to trade spots with me now? Please? With sugar on top and ice cream in the middle and chocolate sauce . . . ?
No? You sure? Kurichi-kun's very pretty. . . .
Dear gods, protect me.
End.
Author's Note II: it occurs to me that there may be some question as to the title. Why Canteloupe? . . . Because canteloupe in my favorite melon, and the file needed a name beforeI could save it on my computer.
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