I've been distracted lately. Depressed as well, moreso than usual. Have you guys heard about the whole thing, with the kid Zach and the anti-gay organization, "Love in Action"? It tears me up. I'm writing a letter tomy local chapter of PFLAG. If any of you are familiar with the matter, I urge you to do the same, and contact some form of a civil rights organization. And if you're not familiar with it, GET familiar with it- it's all over the Internet. What's happening there is sickening. I really hope he doesn't come out of that program all fucked up, I think I might cry again if I find out he does. I reallyhope there's something to be done to put a stop to that place.Andbesides writing my letters and spreading the knowledge and the like, that is all I can do. Hope.A pity that I can not find such solace in it as others do.--

Anyways, I hope that you guystake heedto the above paragraph; I'll get back to addressing the story now.Here now is where things take a little turn, as you'll soon discover. I'd like to hear your thoughts on this, if you'd be so kind as to lend me them.

"…discovered in an apartment just two blocks over from the one of recent victim Rioko Ono, the body was cut to shreds, apparently with a bladed weapon. All this reporter can ask is where will the Mushiyori Butcher strike next? And will he be caught?"

"Haven't decided yet," a low voice replied sarcastically. "And doubt it." He turned off the television and got to his feet, checking his pockets for a cigarette, swearing when he found none. He must have already smoked the last of them. Fuck, now he'd have to go to the store. Later though; right now he had work to do.

Upon hearing the minute sound of tiny feet scurrying across the floor, he froze. He took a deep breath and slowly reached for the knife at his waist. Then he whirled around and hurled it across the room. It made a thudding noise as it hit its target, mingled with a high-pitched squeak. He walked over and picked up his knife, along with the rat now impaled on it. With a shrug, he bit off its head and spat it onto the floor. Food was food.

He returned to his desk and looked over the papers strewed across his desk, massaging his forehead with his free hand as he did so. Out of all the careers he could have had, he had to pick one of the most stressful.

After the Makai had established its new government it lacked the adventure, chaos, and disorder it'd originally offered. Places that had once been a criminal's paradise now dulled drastically to petty offences. For him, all of the fun had been sucked away from him. So, happily defying the new laws, he'd gathered his comrades and emigrated into the Ningenkai. Over the past century this world had blossomed with pointless blood baths, it reminded him of some of the more remote regions of his dear Makai, the parts still untainted by the new rules.

Things had been leisurely at first. Random hunts and slaughter were mere child's play when placed into his hands. Without his logic and strategies, the others who made up his company would have been caught years ago. They were all low-class demons, primitive morons. He'd met many members of the animal kingdom with higher intelligence and better manners than the five he worked with.

Or had worked with. One day he'd returned form one of his private hunts to find the remnants of his partners scattered about the garage. Curious as to whether he should fear for his life or if the buffoons had merely killed each other out of boredom, he'd harvested the various video cameras he had rigged about the vicinity of their tapes. The images played onto the T.V. had startled him.

There had been four of them. Two were most certainly demons. That short one clad in black- no human could possibly move faster than the eye could follow. The pretty redhead also- he wasn't positive as to which gender that one belonged- had to be inhuman. It wielded a rose whip- a weapon he knew as fact was associated with Animal Spirits, human though that particular one appeared. He couldn't confirm the other two's species.

The strangers and his team had fought, and his comrades were exterminated. It didn't surprise him too much, they had evidently been outmatched in wit. The way their opponents fought possibly shed light on their identities. He recalled hearing something in the Makai underworld about a human participating in the Dark Tournament who fought with a Spirit Gun. He'd retreated to more rural areas of Makai not long afterward, being more interested in his work than some gladiator spectacle. He lived for the hunt, not organized death accompanied with rules and guidelines.

Now work actually felt like a job. His need to continue the line of fresh kills was a minimal taxation on himself. But once he'd established himself as a hard-core killer he'd worked under the motto of never leaving a job unfinished. Though his comrades-in-Death managed to off one of the intruders, the other three had escaped. Now his companions had departed to their graves, leaving him to clean up their mess.

Not to say he hadn't made progress. After hours of watching the tapes, studying the intruders' features, he had their appearances memorized. It only took him a few weeks to track down the Spirit Gunman--in a ramen shop of all places!

He looked through his papers, locating the files he'd constructed concerning his prey. The boy in the ramen shop: Yusuke Urameshi, eighteen, human…Spirit Detective. How it amused him that it took this long for Koenma to notice his crimes. After identifying Urameshi as the winner of the Dark Tournament, locating his team mates was easy. Kazuma Kuwabara, eighteen, human. He'd found him upon following Urameshi around the city. Hiei Jaganshi. How proud he was upon discovering that the Neanderthals he took under his wing and taught had managed to kill the only demon to ever master the Dragon of the Darkness Flame. Suichi Minamino, a.k.a. Kurama, reincarnation of Yoko Kurama.

That last one he'd yet to see among the public. The two humans he'd track throughout the city: he knew where they lived, where they worked, what areas they frequented… He'd noticed a house they both visited but neither lived in. He assumed that one was where the Fox lived.

He knew everything he needed to; this was by far the most intriguing hunt he'd ever launched. Now all he had to do was the act itself. His men would be avenged, the job completed. Well, perhaps not in his traditional matter, he mused, thinking of the lovely redhead. Such a stunning creature. Perhaps he wouldn't destroy that one immediately…

With several quick bites, he tore off the remaining rat flesh worth eating and tossed the rest of the carcass away into the shadows. Blood dribbled down his chin, several drops staining his clothes before he wiped his mouth. Swallowing his dinner, he left his office, walked through the garage, and out into the Night. He wanted those cigarettes. Movement attracted his eyes, and he looked down the street.

A group of boys, barely adolescents judging from their looks, were walking down the sidewalk. Most likely, they were heading for the arcade, about six blocks away. He grinned wickedly, revealing Time-yellowed fangs, and darted back inside to properly equip himself. Then he left, but took a different, more discreet route. It'd lead him to a nearby bridge, one he knew those children would have to cross to reach to the arcade. He should be able to get there before them, and then…well, he, Butcher S- no, he was doing solo work now; he would henceforth operate under his Ningen title- the Mushiyori Butcher, could pick up his cigarettes later. The hunt was on.