The Terrible Enemy
Chapter six
By: Kowareta
Disclaimer: I do not own Yu Yu Hakusho.
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A star is a glittering eye that watches over the universe perpetually. Its crystal gaze cuts through the night and out-squints the sun. A sun will never see a planet as it really is: a sun is a queen among her subjects and the planets follow her every move. She is golden and radiant in the planets' adoration. The moon, too, will never see a planet as it really is. It revolves around it, infatuated, watching with cold, hopeful eyes as the planet's seas sparkle or as the jade green forests sway, never seeing, never learning.
But a star isn't like that. A star is an eye that never blinks and is destined to watch over the universe forever. The sky is studded with a thousand crystal eyes that stare down and see nothing but the truth.
"You okay, Kurama?"
The redhead shivered, dressed in a warm brown jacket worn over a green long-sleeved shirt, and turned his gaze from the sky to the boy approaching him. He was wearing a jean jacket that looked a size too small and under it wore a t-shirt that Kurama knew was a size too big. Even his pants looked ill-fitting. It was the look shared by unprepared boys everywhere when just embarking on the relation ship.
Kurama frowned when he realized he'd made a rather stupid pun.
"Yusuke," he said, "I heard that you were with Keiko. Where is she?"
It was Sunday, the day after Kurama's traumatic experience with Seiryoku's kiss and the project. The redhead stood in front of a high white fence that marked the entrance to the matsuri. Behind him an excessive mass of balloons loomed threateningly as a teenaged boy got lost somewhere within. The noise of people enjoying themselves was ferocious like a toothache made of sound.
The shorter teen gave a one-shouldered shrug and a look that, if Yusuke paid more attention in history class, said, "I'm the Spanish Inquisition, yo. And I've got a question." But the boy didn't say anything. Yusuke created the type of silences that were as loud as colliding planets. It was one of his more unique abilities. It was also the kind of thing that drove a person mad. Especially when Yusuke had a question and wasn't asking.
The teen sidled up next to the redhead and leaned against the fence. A thoughtful expression sat on his face, as if he'd come across a problem he wasn't quite sure how to solve. Which was odd since Yusuke usually punched the crap out of a problem until it cried, crawled away, and solved itself.
The younger teen folded his arms over his chest and stared at the food vendor across from them. Kurama watched Yusuke from the corner of his eye. The silence was becoming disturbing. Kurama broke it.
"Hiei alluded to a new case. I assumed Botan's told you the details."
Yusuke shrugged again and mumbled, "Something about some low-class demons 'emfiltroting' human world and how we need to kick 'em out."
"Infiltrating, I think."
"Huh?"
"Infiltrating, not 'emfiltroting.'"
"Whatever," he muttered. His eyes flickered over towards the colorful crowds gathered around a rather amusing display of balloons that performers wore in rather embarrassing places.
"I thought you weren't coming to the matsuri."
"I never said I wouldn't," murmured Kurama.
"I get the impression you don't like crowds."
"I don't," the redhead stated simply. "Mother wanted to come with the man she's been seeing."
The shorter youth raised an eyebrow, "And you came--what?--to see if he's okay."
"It sounds… protective; I know."
Yusuke understood; he nodded, "But she's your mother."
The spirit detective sighed and rummaged through his pockets. Somewhere, a violin player decided it might be fun to start playing a low and ominous melody. Elsewhere, music critics decided it might be fun to start killing bad musicians instead of just critiquing them.
The boy withdrew something from a pocket and flicked it at Kurama. He made a vulgar gesture with his hand.
"So you didn't come with your girlfriend?"
Looking at the photo, Kurama's eyes nearly bugged out as he quickly assessed the situation.
"Ah," he said.
Yusuke watched his friend impassively, waiting for him to explain. He was sure there was more to this circumstance than he was able to see. Never for a moment did he believe that Kurama was actually going out with the girl in the picture--in the photo it was obvious that he was pulling away from her--but with blackmail like this on his hands, he couldn't help but purposely misconstrue the information. If not only because it'll get his friend to take his next words seriously.
"Yesterday, I was almost mugged by your flaky Fangirls," he told Kurama. The redhead would have snickered, if he had he not known how severe an encounter like that truly was. Yusuke continued: "They thought that you and me had a thing together. Then some Chinese-lookin' girl popped out of nowhere, shoved this picture in my face, and said that you were probably two-timing me."
Here, Yusuke paused to reflect upon the word "two-timing." He recovered.
"Listen, I don't care how you manage your relationships; I just don't want them to interfere with mine."
Kurama brushed the hair away from his face and pocketed the photo. He noted it was a Polaroid.
"The girl who gave you this, did she have a name?"
"Pain, I think. I wasn't really paying attention."
"You mean Pan?"
Yusuke shrugged, "Yeah, sure. If you ask me, 'Pain' suits her better. She's a real pain-in-the--"
"Thanks, Yusuke."
Two words passed through Kurama's mind. Pan and Polaroid. Sparked by those two words were a thousand horrible scenarios created within Kurama's petrified imagination.
Normally these two words shouldn't inspire fear or paranoia in anyone; however, it should be known that those words have a special meaning for the students of Meiou Private Academy. Pan was a girl with a Polaroid camera and all your secrets were hers, and once they were hers, they were the whole school's. She was none other than the school newspaper's finest, and only, photographer.
Kurama sighed and rubbed his forehead.
Yusuke seemed to sympathize. "You know I really don't think you have a girlfriend, right?"
"Oh, yes," said Kurama, "It was a good ploy, but you should've asked about my being here after you accused me of having a girlfriend. It would have been more confrontational and unpredictable. Which may have caused me to misread your ploy and think that you were actually being serious. And, if I'm not mistaken, you were planning on using this photo as future blackmail."
The dark-haired teen chuckled to himself, "You manipulative bastard."
"I'll take care of my--and your--Fangirl problem," said Kurama. He then pointed towards a group of people, "I think Keiko and Kuwabara are looking for you. I'm going to go find my mother."
Yusuke watched as Kurama stalked off. If possible, the spirit detective thought his friend seemed calm enough but couldn't help feel as though he was angry in some way.
Which was rather disconcerting. An angry Kurama was something he was sure the world couldn't deal with.
"Hey, Urameshi, why'd you run off?"
Yusuke turned to face the tall orange-haired boy who was advancing on him. He shoved his hands into his pockets and showed his teeth, "I ran from your ugly face."
Kuwabara briefly observed the fleeing Kurama and returned his attention to Yusuke.
"Oh yeah?" he asked and showed a fist. "Well, how about I make you as pretty as I am then?"
"You can try," goaded Yusuke.
Keiko sighed and slapped them both.
"Stop it," she told them when they whimpered. "Come on, there's still a lot more to do."
She took Yusuke's arm, "Or at least for me. I can have fun watching you guys lose at all the festival games."
There is a universal difference that exists between men and women. There is absolutely no point in denying the fact that men and women are different from each other and not just by physical appearance. When a woman's pride is in jeopardy, she holds onto it and fights tooth and nail against those who aim to take it. A man, however, is different. He dangles his pride in front of his foes and dares them to take it, laughing as those enemies trip over themselves
"Hah," said Yusuke. "Just you see. I bet I can win more games than Kuwabara can."
"We'll see about that, you punk."
The boys bickered and threatened and boasted to each other.
Keiko smiled and rolled her eyes.
Boys.
---
"And I know I shouldn't be angry, and I know I shouldn't be jealous, but it just made me so upset to see Shuuichi already had a girlfriend and I never knew."
Glumly, Nakita picked at her ramen noodles. Moeko nodded to herself and surveyed her surroundings with rapt attention. She was always on the lookout for disturbances, perilous-looking strangers, and things out-of-the-ordinary. That way, she'd be prepared when she needed to run like mad.
It was a maze of twisting, winding streets with rows of vendors, festival games, entertainment, and all sorts of curious temporary structures and distractions that seemed never-ending. Crowds of people stood in queues around the vendors. Paper lanterns swayed gently in the chilly breeze, their light mingling with the strange shadows and second-rate decorations. Children ran underfoot occasionally causing a hapless adult to trip or a teenaged couple to spill food on each other. Laughter was everywhere and hundreds of feet pounded on the tired, red brick below.
Moeko was eyeing people with particularly bulky clothing. Nakita scowled at her noodles, leaned over the counter, and shifted uneasily on her red vinyl stool. They were seated at a sit-down noodle house located right in the middle of the matsuri.
The fat girl sighed heavily, "I mean, Seiryoku and Shuuichi? Together? I was hoping that through the project maybe Shuuichi and I could become friends. Was that too ambitious? Was I trying to be manipulative? Does that make me a horrible person?"
Nakita pouted at her noodles.
Moeko, who is certainly not qualified to give advice, let alone good advice, had this to say: "I don't think you could be manipulative even if you actually tried."
The amber-haired girl wiped her mouth on a napkin. She perked up.
"What makes you say that, dear?" she asked, fluttering her eyes and giving a flirtatious smile. "I'll have you know I make a fine manipulator."
Moeko gave a wry smile and wrapped an arm around her friend, "Oh, love," she said, "what seductive charm you have! May I never have to look away so that I may gaze upon thee forever."
They giggled together.
"Alas," murmured Nakita melodramatically and twirled a tendril of hair, "our love shall never be, for if you've ever read any type of romance novel you'd know that all love that is forbidden love is inherently true love. And true love only comes about if you've got one of those horrible past thingies. If our forbidden love is going to work, one of us has got to get into an abusive relationship and the other has to be all cool and rescue the other."
"Does one of us die?" inquired Moeko. "There's always a tragic death scene."
"You, I think," Nakita answered. "You're always going around making sour faces and sneering at people. Clearly the one that lives is the one who has makeover potential. Always. I guarantee it."
Moeko looked mildly scandalized, "I don't have makeover potential?"
"I'm afraid not. See, the way it goes is that the cheerful and charming fat girl outlives the scrawny, sarcastic girl because when the nuclear war breaks out and we all live underground without food because of it, the fat girl eats everyone else so she's the only one left. If no one's left, then that makes her the prettiest one."
"So our conversation topic crosses from the romance genre to the awfully deranged horror genre?"
"Something like that."
Moeko couldn't finish her noodles, so Nakita ate them as well as the bowl she already started on. When she finished, she frowned at the bottom of her bowl.
"How'd the project go?"
The large girl sighed.
"Pretty badly. We barely got anything done. The whole experience mostly consisted of all of us staring awkwardly at the tray of cookies my mother baked earlier with one or two suggestions thrown into the air. We eventually decided that, since Seiryoku and Shuuichi have the same study period, they'd work on it then. And then I could come help in at lunch and after school. Which is good. I don't think there are any club activities next week, so hopefully I can see Shuuichi a lot."
Moeko used a pale hand to stir the ice in her glass of soda with a straw. She found a lot of what Nakita had told her about Seiryoku and Shuuichi suspicious. True, she didn't know much about either of them, but something didn't feel quite right. She remembered, vaguely, that there had been an announcement about the debate team and Seiryoku had been in it. And she remembered the way that Shuuichi had slunk through the lunchroom, taking painstaking precaution to not be seen by any Fangirls. In fact, if Moeko remembered correctly, Seiryoku was a Fangirl. After having reviewed the evidence, the dark-haired girl decided that a boy who avoided Fangirls couldn't possibly want to date one. Something here wasn't quite right.
"Maybe you can steal Shuuichi from Seiryoku," she suggested.
"No! I couldn't do that! That's mean and it would make me a horrible person if I'm not one already!"
"You don't seriously believe you're a horrible person do you?"
Nakita considered it.
"No," she admitted. "But stealing someone's boyfriend is a horrible thing to do. I could never do it."
"Other people do."
"No, people are better than that. We have to be."
"People will never be better than they have ever been."
"True," shrugged Nakita, "but have they ever tried?"
In the crowd, a shock of red hair caught Moeko's exceedingly paranoid attention.
"Excuse me," she said. "I'll be right back."
---
Disturbing shadows moved across the firelight. They moved in groups, slowly, like wolves creeping towards the kill. Frantic, fitful, multi-hued light raced over gruesome faces, all marred with the same hungry, lurid expression.
Someone's lips parted, "I saw them, yesterday, kissing."
The whole matsuri population surged past, careful to avoid them. No one would bother them; no one would touch them. No one would even see them. No one ever saw what they didn't want to see. And a pack of Fangirls in the middle of declaring rebellion was certainly something no one ever saw if they knew what was good for them. They were nightmares in a human husk, stalking the night, ready to tear out the souls of those who disagreed with them.
Another voice grumbled, "I don't see anything wrong with that. Better her than someone else."
A bubble of silence surrounded the pack. The night's earlier wind was had stilled, though the paper lanterns still swayed as if repelled by the sheer madness of the earthbound Fangirls. The light dimmed whenever they were around, wherever they walked. Passers-by, refusing to see them, slid by and fell silent, deep in thought. Children refused to run in their direction. Insects scampered, spiders fled, and stars watched.
"It's the principle of the thing," explained the first Fangirl. "Seiryoku is our great and noble leader. We could have no greater honor than to serve her. But power corrupts. Have you not noticed the way she's changed?"
If the Fangirls had considered the question honestly, they would have said, "No, not really." Seiryoku was bound and acted in only the strictest of the Fangirlian laws. Where the word "Fangirlian" had come from, only Seiryoku knew, but the Fangirls weren't about to doubt her credibility. However, all Fangirls are suspicious of each other and would never trust another girl to her beloved. In fact, as soon as the words "power corrupts" oozed into their ears, each individual member of the Fangirl pack was ready to oust their leader. This is what happens when the mindless begin to think.
There was a sudden epiphany.
"She tackled him on Thursday. Shuuichi is our sacred idol, but she jumped him like he was some kind of horse. I don't know about you, but I think she's lost her respect. Shuuichi's a human being, not a horse."
There was a pause of embarrassed silence as the Fangirls considered the eerie statement. A human being? Was their perfect, beautiful lust object really just human? But before the thought could spark further inspiration, the speaker continued.
"Therefore, he should be jumped on as if he's human."
And then Shuuichi became a god in their eyes, once again.
Protests against Seiryoku continued to rise, "She attacks anyone who gets close to him like he's her possession. That's wrong; he doesn't belong to anyone."
There was another embarrassing pause and another moment of doubt.
"He belongs to all of us."
And then there was faith again.
"Well that's it then," announced the first speaker. "Our queen is corrupt. We have no choice but to sabotage her. You know, for her own good."
The Fangirls murmured amongst themselves. If the Alpha Fangirl truly was corrupt then it was their job, no, their duty to protect Shuuichi from her foul advances. It was divine obligation, holy retribution, and above all…
…Jealousy.
"Man, she's going down."
"Hey, is that Shuuichi? Why's he running?"
The pack of Fangirls turned and squealed.
"Squee!"
---
It was true that Kurama's mother was on a date with her boyfriend, so the redhead had endeavored to leave them alone. Kurama was sure that his mother had only brought him along because she was worried her relationship might bother him. He'd told his mother he didn't have a problem with him and that it was okay, but he was sure that she worried nonetheless. Parents tend to do that.
The wind was reborn and raced again as Kurama stalked through the teeming, garish streets, candy-colored streamers gliding through the dark night overhead. He absentmindedly stripped a streamer out of his hair as he frowned at the photo in his hand. This was going to be tricky. If this really was a Pan photo, then he could be guaranteed that it was going to be in the school paper.
Unlike almost all high school students, Kurama actually read the paper. Usually, he liked to correct the asinine punctuation and grammar errors that made it through the paper's shoddy editing process. Sometimes, even, he'd laugh at a severe spelling mistake.
This was all, mostly, because Kurama was a literary nerd.
However, he also paid attention to what the articles were actually saying. If there was anything he learned from the newspaper, it was that any article accompanying Pan's photographs would instantly demolish a person. Kurama gritted his teeth. He'd been Youko Kurama for three hundred years. Reputation was everything.
He paused and stared briefly at a trashcan beside him. He was going to have to take care of this problem. Quickly. Kurama's hand gently tossed the picture towards the trash, but the wind snatched it away. Alarmed, the redhead dove after it.
"Excuse me."
He looked up to find a pointy-nosed girl with a bruise on her face staring down at him. Her foot was on the edge of the photo. She knelt and picked it up. She glanced at the picture.
"This is a Polaroid," she observed.
An expression of mixed horror and surprise crossed Kurama's features. Was she a Fangirl? He stood up, rather hastily.
"If you don't mind," he said levelly, "I'd like that back."
"Yes, I expect you would," murmured Moeko. "This is a Pan photo, isn't it."
"I doubt you can tell just by quality," Kurama responded dryly.
"Yes," answered the girl. "The only real reason I know is because no one walks around public with pictures of themselves in less than… decent circumstances. This is either blackmail or a Pan photograph. Do you know when it'll appear in the school paper?"
The green-eyed teenager was perplexed.
"Monday, I think. They print late on Sunday. Why?"
"Do you know where they print?"
"They take it to the print shop on Cherry Street."
Kurama watched the girl nod to herself as if she was thinking something important. It was an awkward situation especially considering he didn't know who the girl was or what she wanted with him. He had just been about to ask whether or not she was going to give the picture back when a voice spoke from behind him.
"Kurama," it said, obviously not caring for the redhead's human name. "The detective wants us, let's go."
The green-eyed teenager turned to find Hiei, his dark clothes contrasting sharply against the crowds. Once again, Kurama's astute mind picked up on the subtle nuances of timing, events, and people. He formed a basic conjecture: Yusuke ran into some of those low-class demons while with Keiko and Kuwabara. For some reason, Hiei was there, probably because he'd sensed the demons. Yusuke tells Hiei to get him because there was some unexpected crisis with the low-class demons. That was all he could assume until he got to wherever the crisis was.
Moeko was perturbed. She hadn't even seen the strange boy walk up behind Shuuichi. What was even more disconcerting were his red eyes. They made her want to flee.
Kurama hesitated visibly. He was torn between Moeko, who still had the picture, and Hiei. The fire demon folded his arms over his chest, scowled at the scrawny girl, and glared at Kurama as if implying that the redhead had better things to do than to deal with insignificant girls.
The dark-haired girl determined that Shuuichi was probably going to be dragged off, willingly or not, by this perilous-looking stranger, so she chose her next words carefully and quickly.
"Look, Shuuichi, I don't like you."
Kurama smiled wryly. Moeko continued.
"But I have friend who does. So I want to make a deal with you."
"It's not one of those deals where you do something for me and I go out with your best friend is it?" inquired Kurama. He didn't believe in making deals he couldn't weasel out of.
Moeko held up the picture.
"Here's the deal: I'll take care of your newspaper problem and you treat Nakita as a human being and not just another annoying Fangirl."
Suddenly Kurama had an idea of who he was talking to. He berated himself for not recognizing her before. Nakita's best friend, Moeko, of course. However, he didn't know anything about her other than she always failed most of the tests in their biology class. He sat behind her.
Hiei's impatience was almost tangible. Kurama risked another question.
"How will you fix the paper?"
Moeko found, to her greatest regret, that her only resource was Ronjiru. Inwardly, she groaned.
"I know a guy who specializes in covert operations," she lied.
Hiei was still glaring at Kurama and the redhead could almost imagine him tapping his foot impatiently, tugging his sleeve, pointing at a watch, and saying, "We don't have the time for this. Let's go."
Kurama's eyebrow twitched.
He asked, "What if I don't keep my end of the deal?"
Moeko didn't answer, she merely pocketed the photo.
"I see. It's a deal then. You can stop fidgeting now, Hiei. We're going."
Kurama gave Moeko a hard, searching look before the two disappeared effortlessly into the crowds like they had just melted into the blend of obnoxious colors and cheap decorations. Kurama cursed the fact he'd just made a deal he wasn't sure the girl on the other end could keep. He also wondered what kind of problem Yusuke had run into and if he had to ditch poor Keiko to do it. If he did, he was probably going to catch hell for it.
This thought amused him until he heard an eerie cry.
"Squee!"
He ran faster.
Overhead, the stars' crystal gazes still watched, and if the universe had ears, it would have heard a laugh.
---