Disclaimer: I do NOT own Yu Yu Hakusho, nor do I own its characters.
Note: Sorry for the lousy title in this chapter. By the way, I don't simply receive my inspiration from books and movies. In fact, most of my inspiration comes from the music I listen to.
HOMECOMING
In frustration Kuwabara sullenly ushered a breath out between his pressed lips, and he did so as he roamed tenaciously about in the dark for a moment or two, searching with that wee fluorescent light until he rediscovered the bloodstain imprints he had been following thus far.
Almost immediately then, his ears singled out a strange whirring.
His gaze followed that rustling hum skyward, hearing grating and crackling sounds, as well as metallic tings. He anticipated the overhead streetlamps to flicker on, but none of that came to pass.
The psychic cursed, all the more thwarted.
Actually, he broke out into a sweat and, as hot and cold chills washed over him, his body was virtually consumed by tremors.
He, likewise, became goose pimply.
Why?
Kazuma detested this kind of dark, for this swathing obscurity reminded him of the dark entities whom he had often dealt with in his childhood. Quite frankly, he was as anxious as a cat in a bag in a watery hell.
An ominous light flashed above him in a tree-like pattern, rippling through the black space. As this occurred, the billows themselves greatly resembled a monstrous body of dark, violent water, as though a tumultuous sea had somehow suspended itself there where the sky should be.
Regardless of the astounding phenomenon, be that as it may, he picked up his feet and bolted.
"Look at you. You're weak." He suddenly heard a voice come at him and from out of nowhere. "You've always been weak."
Kazuma recognized the voice, and it belonged to none other than Hiei. But frankly, he had no idea as to why he would be thinking of that bastard, let alone be hearing his voice inside his head and at a time like this.
"Fuck off, dickhead!" The psychic swore as he pressed on, having reinstated his attention toward the blood trail. He was determined to find the person before it was too late, not wanting to leave whoever it was behind in this terror.
"You're a useless fool." He heard the voice continue as he resumed tracking. "You don't deserve to exist, much less breathe."
"Spare me your bullshit!" The psychic heard own voice resound in that retort and yet he had not spoken another word. "You don't know what the fuck you're saying!"
"Hn. Says you." The demon defied, his voice dripping with his usual smugness. "The way I see it, the universe should have omitted you from creation."
"Is that so?" He heard himself sneer. "Funny hearing that from you, since you are the universe literally taking a load on itself! In fact, you are the steaming pile that it squeezed right out of its asshole! GO FUCK YOURSELF, YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT!"
A loud, guttural roar thundered around him as ruby droplets crashed down onto his dashing form.
Ever obstinate, Kazuma kept his gaze at the road, mindful of any obstacles that may arise in his path. Aside, he noticed something else that was inexplicable… The asphalt was now grotesque and littered with deep cracks, marred far more than he remembered, while the sidewalks were covered in a sordid grunge.
Meanwhile, his eardrums were hammered with a sudden bombardment of explosions, whereas their sonic waves aggressively shook him near off his feet.
As an air raid siren howled into his reality, he felt as though something was clawing at him from behind…
…Something...not so friendly…
…And as perplexing as it may sound, he felt the skin of his face begin to sizzle and burn.
But as the lurid nightmare came, and though it had not lifted just as swiftly, the blackness finally dispelled and all faded back to the way it had been before.
Panting, the sensitive slowed down to a halt.
"The fuck? What the fuck was that about?" His gaze roved as he regained his composure. "Am I tripping balls or did that shit seriously happen?"
He even checked himself everywhere for a sign but there was none and, though his coat and other attire were damp, he was clean.
"The fuck?" He wheezed.
After realizing that he had ran a whole few blocks, his train of thought was suddenly disrupted by a loud fizzing roar. He whirled himself on his heels to face the source and beheld a dull, four sided light shimmering like a ghost in the fog. As he drew closer to this light, it became clear to him that the hideous sound was "white noise" and it emitted from a black box with a flickering screen. And though there was no picture, he detected the clear pang of a heart monitor.
Amongst the interminable electronic rain and vital beeping, rang through another sound…wailing.
Screams resounded from out of the speakers, as though the voices themselves emanated from deep within a precipice. He conceived an impression that there were many of them, as though they were writhing in torment, terrorized by something he could not see.
"Kuwabara!" he discerned a distorted shriek from amidst the racket.
Kazuma had glowered almost immediately when having distinguished whom the voice belonged to. "…Urameshi?"
At first, he thought he was merely hearing things, but that clearly was not the case when the screaming continued.
"I'M…, KUWAB…!" Though ambiguous, a message managed through. "I'M…RRY! I…SO…ORRY! I…ailed…! …GOD…YOU F…BASTARD! OH SH…! NO!"
Without warning, the light from the screen withered out with a flash while the frequencies were succumbed by silence.
He tensed up.
Was this some sort of joke? It better NOT be for whoever's sake, for if this was a hoax he was going to give whoever was responsible a fat, repulsively bloody lip.
Well, actually that was putting it lightly.
"I'm going to fuck them up..." He hissed beneath his breath, forcing the words through bared teeth. "...Bury them alive, then dance and piss on their grave!"
As he balled his hands into tight fists, Kazuma noticed that the glass in the window was glazed over in a repulsive substance. He grimaced to himself, having recognized the film to be ectoplasm. Though the window was protected by black iron bars, areas of the glass were fractured with holes. The clammy iron was corroded, eaten away by attrition.
Upon further examination of the windowpane, he spotted a peculiar notice posted on the outside of the window.
Kazuma narrowed his eyes as he studied the paper closely.
"SON OF SAMEK…" He read the bold letters printed in standardized font. "…THE ELOHIM OF DEATH."
Skepticism was his initial reaction, but that dwindled when he noticed that the figure's face had been scratched out.
He grunted. Someone obviously despised the guy, and to which he could relate with. People often proved themselves to be ridiculous. Even more, he figured that when having seen the hate speech handwritten all over the poster.
"THE…BOGEYMAN…" Kazuma read one out loud, ignoring the more vulgar scratches. "All beware…the son of Sam. Not all reap what they sow."
Well, whoever this guy was, Kazuma could see that he was overtly masculine, muscular, and robust with broad shoulders.
After taking several steps back, he surveyed the structure before him for a sign.
Slowly but surely his surroundings became more distinctive, though the dense haze still remained.
He observed the peculiar symbolisms painted upon the structure's walls. One of the symbols was that of an upside-down pentagram, with an eye as its midpoint, and to which was encased by three circles. There were crosses, too, and others reminded him of geometrical shapes on acid. Though he had seen these symbols somewhere before, they were not traditionally of his culture. Then again, he was not exactly sure where he had seen these symbols. He just had a gut feeling that they meant something to him…perhaps something important?
"HIROKO'S HOARD…" Kazuma stared at the sign that hung over the walkway. "…Hiroko's Hoard? What the hell? Where have I heard that— Wait. The old man use to come here."
He backed up more, only to rear-end into something. Still on pins and needles, he spun around only to realize that he had bumped into a street post, with him now standing on the corner of the sidewalk. And that was when he peered up with those dark, beady little orbs of his from those deep sunken eyes.
"No… No way…" He shook his head in disbelief, having read the street signs. "Is this a coincidence or am I…losing my shit?" His eyes were wide and unreeling, though only after having bulged in their sockets. "This..."
Kazuma took off in whichever direction.
Chop-chop!
He ran down the street and meandered around, determined to blow this situation out of the water. However, the proof of the pudding was in the eating and he quickly realized the truth. Of course, he did not run about throughout the entire city, he was smarter than that, though he did waste a good ten minutes or so before he located a public map about seven blocks down.
Mind you, he could not see past eleven feet, thirteen feet maximum, in this fog.
Upon examining the map at the metro stop, color drained itself away from his complexion.
"This can't be… I left that—this fucking hell hole years ago!" Kazuma yelled at the map in an accusing tone. "How did I get here? I was miles away from here moments ago! WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?"
Pressure had built well up inside of him; he was a walking, breathing glass case of emotion.
He slammed the bottom of his boot against the metro chart and deliberately smashed it against the concrete. The metal bars had snapped on impact, amazingly, while the safety glass had been crushed.
Now, that was just pointless.
Slowly backing away from the spot, he raked his fingertips up past his temples and back across his scalp. After gripping his hair by the roots, his hands dropped back to his sides afore his shoulders slumped.
Jumping into traffic seemed like an awfully good idea right about then, but as far as he could tell the entire town was empty.
Everything was empty and decrepit. The buildings appeared abandoned and were smothered in years old mold, filth and dust, while the smudged windows and doors were boarded up. Trash and litter was scattered everywhere.
What happened to this place? It was nothing like this when he left. And there was no way in hell that he was reason as to why this place fell apart.
"This can't be…" His voice cracked as his tone weakened. "…This can't be…"
By then his skin was crawling, while his nerves tingled and prickled as if stung by tiny ants. As his muscles shuddered, he knew that he was suffering from "nervous tics".
Though he had often referred to it as "The Tickle", he had been diagnosed with a Neurological Syndrome as a child. This explained the recurring anxiety and the twitching nerves, of course, but not the actual horrors that came with them…
Time and time again, nervous disorder or not, his demons have been proven to be real and "the tingles" served him as an effective warning method.
Something was undoubtedly near.
That was when he remembered the silhouette.
You know, the "obviously injured" person whom he had been following since the last chapter?
The poor soul had lumbered off…but to where exactly? He assumed by now that, after having taken into consideration the massive amount of blood loss, either the person had somehow managed to get to the hospital or…
…Had died alone in a gutter somewhere.
"Fuck!"
A loud panging resounded in his head...
[WELCOME HOME]
…TO BE CONTINUED…
A/N: And so the story FINALLY begins. Took forever, right?
Thank you all for your time and your reviews. Feel free to criticize. :)
Oh, and about the "neurological syndrome"… I dug hard and researched this way before deciding to use it in my material. Say what you want, but it is what it is. People don't just have…"tingles" when they sense spirits. Goose bumps, yes, but not "the tingles." "Tingles" and goose pimples are not one and the same. Goose bumps, though caused either by fear or cold, are small bumps in the skin that are caused by tightening muscles, which pull body hair into an erect position. "Tingles" belong to a more severe nervous condition, usually found in those with more acute levels of anxiety and, to be more precise, Post-Traumatic Stress patients.
I'm slaying plot-bunnies left and right and, though I intend to keep Kuwabara in character, I can't help myself but to make corrections on shit that does not make sense. You see, I actually intend to put Kuwabara to good use and allow him to be a person rather than play his role of being a "tool" and "the butt". …Okay, he'll still be "the butt" and not so much of a "tool".
Forgive me, father, for I have a wretched sense of humor.