The Terrible Enemy

Chapter four

By: Kowareta

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu Yu Hakusho.

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Hasu, while not a cruel girl, wasn't a genial one either. Natural leadership occasionally descended upon her shoulders and--unlike Nakita's "friend" Moeko--she did not wield the power of manipulation, which often came with such leadership, to serve only her needs.

However, she was also incredibly delusional. She saw herself as the sole medium of justice in a world of nothing but black and white. She fought for light, love, justice and any other cliché one can find in a wholesome box of heroism. Through the laws of Good versus Evil, she was required to save a princess in which she would inevitably marry and live happily ever after. She is the--trademarked, naturally--Warrior of Justice.

"Moeko," said the blonde girl, leaning over the counter to peer down at her dark and evil enemy. The dark-haired teen who appeared to have been rifling through boxes, glanced up. And groaned.

"Listen," hissed Hasu when a familiar glare graced Moeko's features.

"No," replied the teen who was now stacking the books she had pulled out of the boxes. If Moeko had to choose a day to hate, Saturday would be the one. Hasu's Saturday declarations of honor and love for her princess, though amusing, generally ended up with Moeko being smote by the hand of Justice.

"Listen, entity of evil," growled the trademarked Warrior of Justice, "I know that we lie on two different sides of morality, but it is in my nature to offer those who have wronged, those who have become wicked, a choice between a tainted life of depravity or a life of decorum and integrity. I need you to help me."

"If you want me to help you with what I think you want help with, then the answer is still no."

Hasu grunted irritably. This particular evil could be exceeding obstinate indeed.

"Do not you care, oh fallen creature? That fair, noble princess, of which I love so dear, has just been fooled, nay, thrust into a most displeasing and hazardous war! War is upon us! Wrought from two dark armies that, in their deep shadows, seek to devour her soul! We must save her! A union between both the dark and the light! You and I! Will you not save our good princess?"

"Nakita is my friend, Hasu," responded Moeko while she glanced around the bookstore. Within the crowded racks of dusty, untouched books, there was not a single person to hear Hasu's harangue of heroics. Which seemed to be of a great pity to the teen as she could not persuade anyone to detain the insane girl, nor provide existence to this phantom Warrior of Justice which her manager laughed about.

"I'd rather her not be 'saved' by a person that manipulates others with ease," continued the annoyed teen. Hasu scowled. This black soul would not be swayed to the joy of light.

"Do not you see the irony of that?" spat she. "Is not that hypocritical of you to say so?"

"Yes," Moeko answered, opening a magazine to read, "But I am not after Nakita's heart. How were club functions today?"

Mentally, Hasu grabbed Moeko by the throat and threw her across the room. This dark enemy's frank answers coupled with casual inquiry drove Hasu's--strangely--usually calm and clear demeanor away only to be replaced with a lurid frenzy.

Or rather, in all honesty: Moeko was a jerk. She could get to people in ways that no other being could. Which was exactly why Hasu needed her for her Noble Quest--which is, mind you, humbly trademarked.

The dark being noticed Hasu's irritation and smiled mockingly, "So, are you going to purchase anything? If not, I'm going to have to ask you to leave as you are loitering."

Hasu, compelled by the power of her heroic forefathers--which had contributed both to her madness and her strength--smote Moeko's face with the fist of Justice.

Justice: One. Evil: Zero.

---

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Kurama had his own problems to cope with. Alpha Fangirl Seiryoku Geraku had gone against all hope of reason and decided to molest her phone.

"Shuuichi?"

Kurama nearly groaned when he had answered the phone.

"Yes?"

"Hi. It's Geraku Seiryoku. I'm just calling to tell you that Nakita is sick today."

"Oh," mumbled Kurama, a sinking feeling beginning to settle in. There were only two reasons for this sudden affliction. One: either she was telling the truth which would leave him alone with a girl obsessed with him or two: the commencement of informational warfare--so very common among members higher up in the hierarchy of Fangirlism--had begun. That and he'd still be alone with a girl obsessed with him. He was in a no-win situation and not even his clever mind could think of a way to escape.

This--above all other sane or fanciful reasons--was why Kurama hated group projects with such a fiery passion that even Hiei's pyromancy could not compare.

"She should be better on Monday," Seiryoku continued. "So, I don't think we need to worry much."

"Alright then," said Kurama, then asked apprehensively, "and about the project?"

"I think the sooner we start on it the better. We should at the very least start planning it and Nakita can help out later."

They discussed the project for a few more minutes and Kurama agreed to get together at a nearby park. The redhead wondered why a park, but then remembered that he was dealing with an exceedingly disreputable breed of Fangirl. Of course, she'd pretend it was a date and not a project. He said goodbye, hung up the phone, and briefly considered hammering his head against the wall. Consideration complete, he proceeded to try bashing his brains out.

"Shuuichi dear? What is that noise?"

"Nothing, mother," Kurama called out, then muttered, "that's just me… trying to knock myself senseless."

The redhead sighed, gathered his things, put on a light coat, and left. He had an uncanny feeling that he was in the middle of some Murphey's Law exhibition.

The walk to the park was pleasant enough. Chilly, of course, but sunny. It helped calm his nerves and sooth his worry. Though, he did know that this was only the calm before the storm. Once the storm broke, it would hold all beneath it in a state of chaos; the thrall and seduction of forces much greater than themselves.

It took Kurama about a minute and a half to realize that someone was walking atop the low wall beside him. Naturally Kurama assumed that it was a Fangirl, and in his shock, he threw himself haphazardly--and perhaps foolishly--at the street.

Hiei frowned curiously like a stray cat whose just observed a red mouse scamper across the alleyway. It was unlike Kurama to get jumpy or to not immediately recognize his presence.

Kurama stared up at his friend and sighed. Hiei said nothing and watched a car drive insanely past--about sixty miles per hour. The driver had probably been spooked by Kurama's antics.

The redhead got to his feet.

"I think," he murmured softly, brushing dirt from his clothes, "that you may have surprised me."

"I think," mimicked Hiei, "I have done more than that."

The demon's red eyes flickered over towards a flock of girls who--had not Kurama decided to play tag with the road--would not have noticed him and would not be staring at him with hungry, hawk-like eyes. Kurama frowned slightly, miffed at Hiei's arrival and his sudden lack of attention that drew unnecessary gawkers.

"I think," Hiei said, observing the girls and still following the pattern of speech that Kurama set up, "that they desire to eat you."

The crimson haired youth was in no mood for Hiei's twisted sense of humor. And he didn't like that wry smirk he saw on the fire demon's face.

Hiei raised an eyebrow experimentally and fell silent. With little effort he managed to construe the idea that Kurama must be in some whole new level of stress that could not even be paralleled by the past challenges of the Dark Tournament. Not being a licensed psychologist or therapist, he merely stated, "This 'problem' had better not distract you. I won't be watching your back."

Kurama then decided he'd suffered enough of Hiei's presence and countered with, "It seems you're alluding to a new case. However, be careful, Hiei. My 'problem' may become so stressful that I may accidentally let slip some information."

Hiei glowered at him.

"Tell her and you die."

"Yes," conceded Kurama, "but by the time you kill me, she'll already know."

The short demon grunted and left. Probably going to check to make sure no invisible figment of his imagination already told his sister who, exactly, he was. Kurama chuckled to himself at Hiei's expense.

He found Seiryoku waiting for him. She sat on a fairly new park bench dressed in a knee-length skirt, a copious amount of poorly coordinated make-up, loose knee socks, and what looked to be imitation-designer accessories. He caught her attention and she promptly stood up to greet him.

"Hello," she said breathlessly.

"Hello," Kurama responded, raising an eyebrow.

She stared at him expectantly for a moment, a strange and twisted hope brimming about her eyes. She clutched her purse tightly. Kurama felt sick.

This was Seiryoku's first moment alone with Shuuichi. He represented everything that she had ever wanted. A lullaby to calm her fears, a kiss to heal her wound, a smile to lighten her ebony dreams, and a hug to warm her soul. Though, at least this was only what she imagined. And her imagination could get away from her at times. He was an ear to hear her despair, a hand to lift her up, a heart to mend her woes. A gentleman, a boy of good looks and deep unfathomable eyes.

Seiryoku could still remember the time when they first met. Last year, during lunch time, some boys had been making some pretty rude comments over a careless joke she'd made. Seiryoku had blown up at the boys and started yelling at them. They had gotten into a full-scale verbal war and had not Kurama stepped in saying, "I believe, that we cannot judge those who we are not, yes?" the boys may have moved in to physically attack her. To be honest, the Fangirl knew how to defend herself, of course. Her father had made sure of that by paying for her defense lessons. Living in a city makes one wary, but she was sure that the horde of boys could have at least damaged more than her pride.

She had to make this moment go over well. In order to do that, she must not make a fool of herself; she must not prove herself to be the rabid Fangirl she was, nor reveal her willful, vindictive side. Before her stood Shuuichi--Shuuichi, her love! She must restrain herself. She must not act like the hopelessly obsessive crowd she led.

She flung herself at him.

Kurama barely had time to react before she was upon him. Her mouth trying to consume his.

There came a bright flash from behind a bush that he forgot about later. He wouldn't realize that, after this traumatic experience, this flash would start another.

But before he could deal with his trauma, he'd have to fix the catastrophes that seemed to be colliding with each other.

"Oh," said Kurama after Seiryoku finished kissing him.

"Oh," said Nakita, who'd just happened to walking home after just having finished Volunteer Club activities.

"Oh," said Seiryoku, simply because everyone else had.

---

It was a great picture, of course. None of Pan's photos ever turned out horrible. The Chinese-looking girl cradled her camera fondly from behind the bushes and blushed with pleasure, full of a sense of a job well done. Though, the hundred dollar payoff that Seiryoku had given her to get a picture of the Fangirl kissing Shuuichi was also giving her a warm tingly feeling. She chuckled and slunk quietly towards the city.

Now, she thought, time to get the "goods" to the drop-off point.

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