Part Two


Chapter Sixteen

Damn you, Kusuke. Whether you orchestrated this or not—and I don't doubt you could have—I'm blaming this all on you.

What? You don't think it's fair for me to pin this on my brother just because I made the decision to seal my powers myself? Well, it is. Kusuke is always doing stupid stuff and only telling me half the details; he's the dumbest genius in the world.

Yare, yare.

Anyway, you'll probably be curious to learn the Kuwabaras aren't the only occupants of the temple. Apparently, people come here from all over the world to receive psychic training in every discipline. Telekinesis, invisibility, telepathy, psychic projection, teleportation, changeling; every ability I had—and dozens more I probably had but never got around to discovering—was represented. The only difference between them and me is most of the people here only have one power while I had them all. Or at least most.

The guys are in awe, but I've seen it all before. Well, more accurately, I've done it all before. Either way, it's nothing new.

At least, it shouldn't be anything new. But if there's anything I've learned in the last week, it's that nothing is what I expect it to be anymore.


Psychics, Ghosts, and Apparitions

"Most of the psychics here are like your friends; low- to mid-level New Psychics who tripped over their powers by accident and weren't sure what to do or how to handle them," Yamato said around the lollipop in her mouth as she led the way through the enormous temple compound, gesturing right and left at the different buildings as they passed. Most looked the same—dojos with square, sloped roofs topped by copper shingles. The storm doors and shoji screens were pushed aside to reveal square rooms populated by the strangest assortment of people Kusuo had ever seen. They had the crazy hair styles and colors now common to the world thanks to Kusuo's mind control, and everyone was dressed in the same white yukata/blue hakama uniform, but that was where the similarities ended.

Tall, bulky men worked side-by-side with tiny, pixie-esque women in buildings where they practiced martial arts as well as others where they were meditating or sitting cross-legged being lectured. Some looked older than his grandfather while others looked barely old enough to walk on their own. There were glasses wearers of all types from the cool, student council president type to the nerdy, twin-braided with freckles type. Businessmen and yankees—both with slicked back hair but with obvious social differences—stood side-by-side with blue-skinned, horned beasts with one eye, fanged women, tailed toddlers, yellow giants.

What the hell?

Shun stopped to gape openly at a man the size of a house with gray-marbled skin and tusks. Kusuo grabbed Shun's arm as he strode passed, dragging the blunet behind him. Shun before turning his attention back to Yamato who kept walking and talking like the craziness happening inside the various dojos was normal.

"Hey, Kami-girl." Kuboyasu picked up his pace to stride along beside Yamato. She looked over at him, visibly annoyed at having her unheard monologue interrupted.

"What?"

"The hell is with all these freaky people? They get into some crazy nuclear accident or something?"

Yamato's brow furrowed, and she shifted her lollipop from one side of her mouth to the other. "You really are a dumb-shit, aren't you?"

Kuboyasu's yankee vein popped. "Oi—"

"They're students here to learn their powers. Psychics and low-level apparitions, mostly. Ghosts like to hang around every now and then, if they're not ready to cross over, but they usually let me ferry them after a few days. We also have some demons in the mix, but they usually prefer to keep to themselves. It doesn't help that most demons have a fondness for human flesh, and that sort of shit don't fly here." Yamato gestured lazily with one hand as if to encompass the entire compound.

"There was a raid about five years back when a couple B-rank assholes thought they could make trouble. They put in a pretty good show, though they were outnumbered, so no one died in the five minutes or so it took for Kazu-ji to get one of his feelings, pinpoint it, and cut his way over. You don't want to know about the mess that followed. To this day, it makes Yu-ji shudder." Yamato shook her head, a small, sardonic smile on her lips, though the effect was ruined by her lollipop. "After that, Natsu and her family moved into the compound full-time, and there haven't been any problems since. Not even S-class are dumb enough to mess with Kazu-ji anymore. He may be human, but there are only about six people in any world stronger than him, and they're all related to us by either blood or brotherhood."

Hairo cleared his throat. "Ah…Yamato-san? As much as we appreciate you telling us all this, I'm pretty sure I speak for everyone when I say we have no idea what you're talking about."

Yamato snorted. "No shit, Sherlock. If you did, I wouldn't have to tell you about it, would I?"

Uncertain looks were traded with annoyed scowls as the five boys glanced at one another. Nendou, of course, looked as content and carefree as ever, but Shun was about ready to pass out and Kuboyasu to explode.

Yare, yare. That leaves Hairo and me as the levelheaded ones.

"Okay, here's the guest lockers." Yamato stopped at the porch of a smaller building bisected down the middle with 'male' written in kanji on the left door and 'female' written in kanji on the right. Hairo tilted his head in confusion.

"Why male and female?"

"Cause apparitions aren't human, and they don't like being lumped in with us." Yamato turned on her heel and waved dismissively over her shoulder. "Find uniforms that fit and get changed. We only have a few more hours until school is out and ya'll end up missed by family or whatever. Pretty sure Yu-ji went to Demon World a few days back to help prep for the tournament, but I'll let Dad know you're here, and he'll find out where Yu-ji is so he can come assess you."

The boys stared dumbly after her as she made her way back through the angled path leading to the temple's main house. She ran into a lean man with shaggy red hair, pointy ears, and a single horn on his forehead and gleefully slapped him on the butt. The man yelped, jumped straight into the air, and kept going until he disappeared from view with a twinkle.

"The fuck?" Kuboyasu said, and that about summed it up.

#

It didn't take long to change, and the group did so in silence. That wasn't unusual for Kusuo, who rarely said anything anyway, but for the likes of Shun, Nendou, and Hairo, the lengthy silence was unnatural and unnerving. Kusuo forced himself not to shoot askance glances their way and instead focused on changing out his school uniform for the dojo uniform he'd pulled off the well-organized shelf arranged by size and labeled for human use. The fabric was soft and light but undeniably foreign as he slipped the white yukata up his arms and arranged the folds before tying the robe closed with a koshi himo.

Two months ago, Kusuo never would have guessed that the world was so unbelievably crazy, and he'd been an all-powerful, mind-reading psychic at the time. How had all of this gone unnoticed his whole life? He'd known about ghosts, of course, what with Nendou's crazy dad and Toritsuka's medium thing, but even that was a relatively recent discovery. And now there was all this nonsense about demons and apparitions—whatever those were—and who knew what else.

And what did she mean by the ghosts let her ferry them after a day or two?

There was so much Kusuo didn't know anymore, and he didn't realize how much it would bother him to be so wholly and completely in the dark. Yare, yare. This would never have happened with telepathy

It took a bit of finagling for Kusuo to get his obi belt tied by himself. Since he rarely wore yukata, and hadn't worn one at all since getting rid of his powers, he wasn't used to the manual holding, twisting, knotting process. Still, it only took about five minutes to get the belt situated properly on his hips with a passable knot at the small of his back. It may not be the prettiest bow ever, but he gave it a few, sharp tugs and it didn't fall apart, which was all that mattered. Besides, the hakama would cover it up anyway.

Out of everyone else, Hairo and, surprisingly, Nendou had the least amount of trouble getting dressed on their own. As expected, Hairo had rolled up the yukata sleeves to bare his arms and was currently working through a series of lunges to get 'the feel' of the borrowed clothing. Nendou had finished first and decided now was a good time to nap, so he was laying on the locker room floor with his head propped on his right hand as he snored.

Kuboyasu was like Kusuo, a bit out of practice but overall successful, while Shun, somehow, managed to tie himself up like a simpering sub. The left sleeve of his yukata had slid off his shoulder, exposing an indecent amount of his chest and stomach—which was surprisingly well muscled considering his pathetic strength and martial prowess—and a humiliated flush darkened his cheeks beneath his teary eyes. All he needed were a few shojo bubbles and he'd be ready for a thorough ravishing. Good thing Yumehara wasn't there; she could very well have bled out through her nose. Kusuo sighed and moved to help him out.

"Yare, yare," Kusuo said as he worked the tangled knot around Shun's wrists. "How did you get yourself into this?"

Shun's answer was muffled around the thin, koshi himo he'd somehow gagged himself with. He wriggled and twisted, trying to get himself loose as Kusuo worked, but he was only making it worse. Kusuo frowned.

"Stop moving."

"I've got him!" Hairo jumped into a knee-slide mid-lunge and pressed down on Shun's shoulders, but that only made Shun panic. He kicked out, but his legs were bound together so his whole body writhed like a worm on the sidewalk.

"Calm down, Shun." Kuboyasu grasped Shun's ankles and stretched him out so he couldn't keep flailing. "You're only making things worse for yourself."

"Yeah, Kaidoh! Take it like a man! Yosh!" Hairo flashed Kusuo a thumbs up and a wink. "Take your time, Kusuo. We'll keep him down."

"Well, that's a hell of a thing to walk in on."

Kusuo jumped at the unexpected voice, accidentally yanking the wound obi tighter against Shun's ribs. Shun squawked behind his accidental gag and started turning blue from lack of air. A frantic scramble had the belt loosened enough for Shun to breathe before Kusuo turned around to glare at the intruder. The man was about average height with slicked back hair and laughing brown eyes. He stood in the doorway with his shoulder on the jam, arms crossed over his chest, and wore jeans and a t-shirt instead of the temple uniform. He was grinning at them behind a pair of aviator sunglasses that he pulled down just enough to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively.

"Don't mind me, boys. I can wait outside."

Kusuo sighed. "Yare, yare."

The man snickered but didn't leave as Kusuo did his best to unbind Shun as quickly and painlessly as possible. It took about ten minutes—which should have been impossible, but this was Shun after all—but eventually, Shun was unbound and back on his feet. Kuboyasu fixed the folds of Shun's yukata while Kusuo smoothed out the wrinkled obi before passing it to Hairo, who had the thing wrapped, tucked, and tied in less than a minute.

"Think you can step into your hakama without falling through a black hole?" Kuboyasu smirked as he held the hakama out. Shun scowled, still glowing pink, and snatched the garment out of his friend's hands.

"I'm fine." He hurriedly stepped into the hakama and fumbled the ties, but in the end, he was able to get them on without further incident. Kuboyasu patted Shun's head like a newly trained puppy.

"Good job, Shun."

Shun sniffled, still teary as he glared at his friends. "I hate you all."

The unknown man clapped, drawing the boys' attention, before wiping a pretend tear from beneath his sunglasses. "Teamwork; is there anything more beautiful?"

Kuboyasu stepped forward, standing at his full height to bear down on this unknown man with his full yankee persona—exaggerated scowl, shadowed face, bulging vein; the works. "You got something to say, punk? Eh?"

The guy wasn't the least bit intimidated. Instead, he pulled his glasses off with a laugh and reached up to pat Kuboyasu's shoulder while simultaneously pushing him aside.

"Easy, killer. I'm one of the good guys." He waved the hand still holding his glasses as the other was tucked casually into his pocket. "Yo. Name's Urameshi Yusuke, but you probably know me as Yu-ji, thanks to Nadi. She has the worst habit of not using people's full names, even with strangers."

Sneering, Kuboyasu looked Urameshi up and down. "You're going to train us? You're almost as scrawny as Shun!"

"Hey, Aren! That's mean!"

"Calm down, mullet boy." Urameshi grinned and laughed as Kuboyasu sputtered with indignant shock. "Haven't you ever heard the phrase 'don't judge a book by its cover'? You may not think I look like much, but trust me, I've got it where it counts."

Urameshi looked the boys over for a moment, his eyes lingering longest on Nendou—who was still snoring away—before he shook his head with a snort. "The new generation sure is shit, huh? Well." He turned on his heel and waved them after him. "Might as well get started. Kick your friend and follow me."

Nendou was easy to rouse, though he complained a bit at first before he realized they were on the move. Kusuo followed Urameshi out first and was surprised to find a row of zori sandals waiting just below the engawa porch. He stepped into the pair that looked closest to his size and continued walking. The other guys followed with varying degrees of enthusiasm with Shun the most nervous and Hairo, of course, the most excited. Nendou seemed perfectly calm as he trailed the pack with both arms folded behind his head as he watched the clouds pass over head.

"Sure is a nice day, huh? We should go get ramen when we're done; we can go to one of those carts so we can enjoy the sunshine. There's supposed to be a good one under the train tracks in the Kaidan area."

Shun sputtered. "You expect us to go all the way to Adachi for ramen? Are you nuts?"

Nendou shrugged. "Ramen is ramen."

"What does that even mean?"

"If you boys are done flirting back there, we're here." Urameshi stepped out of his tennis shoes and onto the engawa of an empty dojo with tightly closed doors and windows. Carefully painted ofuda charms were attached to every post and door of the dojo. The ones on the engawa posts seemed to be wards while the ones on the doors and windows said something about sealing. Unfortunately, the handwriting was terrible; nearly impossible to read.

Urameshi bit his thumb until it bled, and Shun yelped.

"Why would you do that, you idiot?"

Amusement lifted Urameshi's eyebrows as he smeared his blood across two of the ofuda on either side of a door seam. "You really should be careful who you're calling names, kid. Not everyone with my power level is as easy going as I am."

The ofuda started glowing, the color turning redder and brighter until they burst into flames and fell away in a sprinkle of ash. Urameshi slid the doors open and motioned the boys inside.

"After you."

Hesitance fell over the group like a physical weight. Kusuo was only just beginning to understand what they had gotten themselves into, and he suspected that the others weren't far behind him, if at all. The casual use of psychic power in this compound bordered on magic, even for Kusuo, and there was so much he didn't understand about how and why it worked that every passive display set him on edge. It was one thing to be able to do stuff like this himself; watching others do it was beyond surreal. It was almost terrifying.

"You gonna stand there all day or what? I have a wife and kids I want to get home to before the sun sets, so if you don't mind."

Another round of uncertain glances went through the group before Nendou shrugged and barreled forward. Unwilling to be shown up by their resident idiot, the rest followed with Shun dragging his feet as the last one in.

"Awesome." Urameshi slid the door closed behind them and pulled another ofuda from his pocked that he slapped right onto the seam of the doors. It glowed a bright yellow-white for a moment before fading back to its normal, dun appearance. "That's to keep us hidden from scryers and clairvoyants, just in case you're wondering. Hell if I know how it works, but Nadi says it does, so it does."

He turned on them, hands on his hips, and gave them all an appraising once over. He frowned. "Not much for aura on you two." He pointed at Kusuo and Shun. "But the rest of you are pretty interesting. Nadi said I'm supposed to break the seals on your powers or something, but there's not much too that other than brute force. When the body is in danger, the spirit flares to compensate. For guys like us, that means a spike in spirit energy that is usually strong enough to puncture seals. Once there's a hole, Nadi and Shizuru can figure out how to peel the rest of it apart."

Urameshi started rolling his shoulders one at a time to loosen up. "We'll spar one on one to give me a measure of where you're at. Then, when you go home, I'll give your numbers to Kuwabara, and he'll work up a regiment for you all during the summer. We don't have much time before the big showdown, but there's just enough for a decent power-up if you're diligent. It'll suck like hell, but you'll thank us later."

Kusuo had no idea what to say to any of that, so he stayed silent. Apparently, the others felt the same because the silence reined.

"Awesome," Urameshi said again. He looked at Kusuo while stretching his legs and hips. "You're supposed to be the big cheese, right? Saiki Kunio or something; former psychic who was hell'a OP before you screwed it up. Good job there. In theory, it should be easier to break you than the other one, so we'll start with you."

Urameshi finished stretching out and took up a comfortable posture that was far too casual and relaxed to be any sort of fighting stance. He gestured at Kusuo with his head. "C'mon then. Try and hit me."

A foreign sensation bubbled up inside Kusuo's stomach, scorching his heart from below. He'd been frustrated before, of course, but because of his telepathy and empathy, the feeling rarely lasted longer than the few seconds it took to get a read on the cause of such an emotion (except Nendou, who he couldn't read at all). Naturally, his frustration had grown just a bit since giving up his powers, but he still managed to let it go pretty quickly. Until today. From the moment Yamato had stepped into classroom 3-1, Kusuo had felt nothing but an increasing level of frustration, and right now, that feeling had reached its boiling point, tipping Kusuo over the edge. So, while he may not recognize the emotion burning him up at the moment, he certainly knew what it was.

For the first time in his life, Kusuo was well and truly angry.

He launched himself at Urameshi without warning, fists raised and ready to pummel the jerk's smug face. He barely got within a foot of the man before Urameshi moved so suddenly, Kusuo literally didn't see it. But holy shit, did he ever feel it.

Urameshi's knee connected solidly with Kusuo's gut, doubling him over, before he drove an elbow down on Kusuo's back just between his shoulder blades. Spikes of pain shot down Kusuo's spine, filling his entire nervous system with lances of white-hot lightning. His fingers and toes tingled as he slammed face-first into the dojo floor, knocking the wind out of him with a sharp gasp.

"Too slow," Urameshi said, glaring down at Kusuo with folded arms.

Despite himself, Kusuo groaned. In his whole life, Kusuo had never felt pain worse than the headaches he occasionally got from his premonitions, so he wasn't the least bit prepared for the pain he now felt. He pressed his forehead hard against the floor and tried to regulate his erratic breathing. His ribs ached, his head ached, his whole fucking body ached, and his fingers and toes were twitching from lingering threads of electricity.

He heard his name called out by his friends as he pushed up to his elbows, saw Kuboyasu dart in to attack Urameshi while Hairo hung back as cover and Nendou and Shun dropped to the floor at Kusuo's sides.

"You okay, buddy?" Nendou eased Kusuo to his knees as he shook his head to clear the ringing in his ears.

"I'm fine," Kusuo said quickly, remembering that mortifying incident between Nendou and Takahashi at the beginning of their first round of Year 2. Do not start hitting me.

Before anyone could say anything else, Kuboyasu went flying over their heads. He tumbled across the dojo floor and hit the back wall in a groaning lump.

"Nice try, rookie, but I fought better than you when I was fourteen, and half of those weren't even demons." Urameshi's smirk had turned dark and there was a nostalgic gleam in his eyes that made Kusuo's eyes widen as he suppressed a shudder.

Even without his powers, Kusuo considered himself a good judge of character, and he'd run into enough war veterans during his six junior year trips to Okinawa to tell the difference between the soldiers who were cocky shits and the ones who'd seen things; done things. Looking into the dark, shadowed eyes of Urameshi Yusuke, there was no doubt in Kusuo's mind: Urameshi was the latter.

Urameshi dropped his gaze from Kuboyasu to Kusuo, his amiable grin long gone, and motioned for Kusuo to stand with a jerk of his head.

"Get up and go again, Saiki. And the next time you go down, you better not stay down because I'm done playing fair."

Motioning his friends back, Kusuo shoved aside his pain and took a stance. "I can do this all day."

Urameshi grinned. "Good."