So,….it's been a while. Yep. Quite some time has passed. Surprised I haven't been flamed for it. So…um…thanks for not sending killer ninjas. That would have sucked. I'm not really a martial arts expert. Yeah. I'll just write the fic now.

Recap:

"So…Who's Yusuke?"

"Who?" Mr. Chibi questioned.

"Yusuke!" Keiko screamed. "WHO IS HE?"

"Who is he? Who am I? Does it really even matter? In the end-"

O.o "What are you talking about old man?" Keiko groaned. A sharp throbbing ache flashed through her head.

"Ooh! Lookey Kurama!" Hiei squealed "There's a pelican pecking Keiko's head!"

"Seriously," Mr. Chibi persisted. "Who is 'Yusuke'? Ooh! Does he have purple cuddle cookies made out of dreams and love!"

"What the…? How did you…? Where do you come up with this stuff?" Keiko asked weakly. The pelican on her head paused in its vicious attack to out through the computer screen, his swirling colorful eyes boring into yours, pulling you closer, closer… your mind slipping into darkness. Bye, bye, brain! Closer, closer… until you hit your head on the glass of your monitor. The pelican shrugged. "It's a living" He stated in a monotone. Before flying off to peck Hiei's head. But whether the gravity defying hair wouldn't let him or the dull echoing annoyed him he soon flew off to be a cement mixer on a cheap cartoon about cavemen. Where his sassy one liner "It's a living" would forever be thought of as the brilliant zinger of the show's writers and never remembered as starting out in a small, cheap, crappy high school where its closet/Library contained nothing but movie tie in novels and drugstore paperbacks and the possibility of graduating was a .9 chance in HELL! But I digress.

Now, one might at this moment assume that dear Yusuke was cutting class smoking. But since you know everyone's OOC you could be under the impression that he's a misunderstood, frustrated novelist cutting class to hide in bathroom stalls writing an epic moving drama that reflects the struggles of man in some cheap tattered notebook he had to shoplift 'cause papa would beat him if her found out that poor Yusuke was throwing his hard earned farming money away on silly things like writing materials.

Well actually, he was lost. After all every room number is 123. We shall now join him as the classroom conversation bores me and I feel like acting like a haughty bitch right now.

"Okay so if I take a right at old Mr. Johnson's farm, go left on the fork in the road, past room 123, take a left at room 123, stop at Joes diner for lunch, go down the hallway with all the room's 123 and take a left at the end and I'll get to room 123!" Never take directions from a drunken tarot reader. Really. It's not safe. Every year 1 in 2,000,000 people will die from drunken tarot reader directions. As you are reading this someone will die in five years from drunken tarot directions. So if you every see your smashed friend walking out of a bar, keys and tarot cards in hand, do the right thing. Take him home, give him some more liquor until he starts calling you sexy and asking for you to get together and grab a motel room and make hot gay love to him and then give him a roofie so he won't remember.

To tell you the truth it's amazing Yusuke didn't find his class earlier. Amy Fischer High sucked monkey and no respectable parent wanted to send their kid their. Really only emotionally/mentally disturbed kids and absolute idiots went their. And I'm not talking about kids with learning disorders. I mean real live dumb as butter kids who couldn't tell the sky from their ass. Yusuke was one of them.

"Where's Yusuke?" Yusuke looked at the ceiling. "Did some one say my name?" The sheet of plastic taped over the school wiring in place of actual ceiling didn't answer.

And that's basically where Yusuke been this whole time. Right out side that door there.

Keiko had never encountered a more devious group. In reality there wasn't very man of them. The teacher; the suicidal; the gothic…happy, kinda stupid everything but pessimistic, could have passed as Mr. Chibi's taller (but only by a little bit) son; the red headed, would be lover of the Goth (had said Goth been less stupid) and probably the horniest person she'd ever met; and the other red head. But he hadn't done much. So she assumed he was here for stupidity. Unlike the others. Who needed to be kept away from other children. Which was strange seeing as the 'other red head' could be considered one of the 'other' children. You know. Normal, but so stupid.

Then the door opened. Ok. Maybe not opened, so much as the cheap hinges the constructers bought at a Dollar General gave way and the door fell from its frame. As the dust cleared, not surprisingly their was a lot of it, a figure appeared. Standing against the grime chest puffed out, stature erect head upturned at the fallen overgrown stick, every bit a respectable and strong man. But as I said the dust cleared. And they saw that it was just a gawking idiot staring at the ceiling.

He turned, Hiei screamed.