Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction ❯ Quartered ❯ Chapter 2

As always, don't own, never will. Unless they're not in YYH. Then they're mine. Err...and yes, I know I write like a (possibly British) fantasy novel. Deal.

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"Out, yew liddle thieves! Out, I say, out!" Flailing about with a tattered broom, an old demoness chased a band of urchins out of the market. Weaving left and right as they narrowly missed being hit; the three ragged children clung tightly to their stolen goods and fled.
Dashing around corners and scampering between buildings, they at last reached the far western edge of the city. Here, where the ocean spread across the horizon, where ships were launched and where the tides came in, Uboshita and his crew made their home. Looking about to make sure that they were not seen, the little group ducked into one of the abandoned buildings that lined the shoreline. As they entered the room, one of the children nudged the boy behind him.
"You `ear that, Tomoyo?"
"'Ear wot?"
"Hones'ly. Tomoyo, if I didn' know better I'd think you was deaf. Ya really can't `ear it?"
A girl at the back of the group spoke up. "'Sounds like he's cryin', I'd say. He don't seem too `armful to me..."
"An' `ow do you know wot's `armful an' wot's not? You always was a soft one, Kameko; it's prolly a trap."
"Aye. `E lures us in wit' `is cryin', then stabs our lights out an' leaves us `ere to bleed while `e makes off wit' our grub. Ain't that right, Uboshita?"
"Right, mate."
"Then we'll sneak up behind him, silent-like, an' slit `is gullet first. This is our kip, an' we're not gonna lose it to no thieves, eh?"
The boys turned to look at Kameko. "As ye wish, lass... I ain't goin' with yer."
Determined to prove the others wrong, the girl handed the fish she was holding to Tomoyo, drew her knife, and slipped into the shadows.

~*~

Minami Suzaku, now five years old, had awakened early that morning to find the old dojo deserted. He didn't expect his father to be around - at this hour, Hisao and his thieves would still be out in one of Konzatsu's many taverns - but for Ryoko to be up at this hour was nearly unheard of. Rising from the bundle of rags that served as his bed, the little boy quickly dressed and left his small room in search of his mother. As he wandered through the abandoned building's many rooms, he found only the spoils of his father's trade: gold and silver trinkets, wood and stone carvings, intricately crafted swords...but no sign of his mother. At last the child found his way to the main entrance; he stepped outside and began to walk around the outside of the building, but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw what laid at the bottom of the dojo's steps.
With her sun-coloured hair fanned out across the stone and her crimson eyes staring blankly up at him, Suzaku's mother lay dead on the ground, the pain of six years having finally consumed her. Frightened and lonely, the little boy had fled, away from the dojo, through the marketplace, and down to the docks. Dimly realizing it would be unwise to spend the swiftly approaching night outside, he had taken refuge in an empty, dilapidated inn. As he curled up in a corner to sleep, the boy at last allowed himself to cry, sobbing quietly as he mourned Ryoko's death. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder and the cold blade of a dagger at his throat.
"Don't kill me!" he yelped in terror. "I didn't know this was...I'm lost...I...I..."
Slowly, the knife pulled away and a girl came around to face him. Though her long black hair hung in a tangled mess about her filthy, dirt- smeared face and her blue kimono was frayed and stained, Suzaku could see that she was a very pretty girl.
"You all right?" she said. "Me an' the boys could `ear you cryin'..."
"Y-yes..." He fidgeted uncomfortably. "I really didn't m-mean to intrude..."
"Yew shore talk fancy fer a liddle `un, eh?" another voice cut in sharply. "You ain't one o' them Osore scum, is yer?"
"Naw, he's too skinny `a be one o' them. Asides, none o' them ever come down thisaway."
Uboshita laughed. "Aye, an' it's a good thing fer 'em, too. Why, if I ever saw one o' them lizards, I'd jes draw me trusty ol' dagger an' send `im off to `ell afores `e could lay a scratch on me. An' ye'd all do the same, right mates?"
His crew shouted their agreement loudly.
"An' as fer yew," he turned to Suzaku. "Ya can start by tellin' us wot a rich liddle brat like yerself is doin' in our kip."
The younger boy shrank back against the wall. With a fine steel dagger by his side and a cruel glint in his cold grey eyes, Uboshita was not one to cross. Nervously, Suzaku began his story.
"M-my mother was the l-last of the Tori clan...she was in the forest when the Osores attacked her village. My father was the eldest son of Iseki Hasegawa-"
"Iseki?" Uboshita snorted. "Shoulda known. `E always was a right soft `un."
"Aye... but `is son...wotisname...Hisao? They say he's made quite the name fer `imself, some kinda thief king or summat..."
Suzaku nodded. "My father was a thief, yes...to him, Mother was just another prize. He treated her cruelly...I suppose she couldn't stand it anymore..." he trailed off, unable to speak any longer.
"She killed herself, didn't she?" Kameko rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. "That's what my mum did, when she `eard the Dragons `ad won th' war..."
A sharp kick in the shins brought Kameko back to reality. "Don' be gettin' all weepy on us now, missie. We gotta teach this `ere thief's boy a thing or two `bout livin' on th' street, an' I sure as `ell ain't gonna let your tears spoil `im..."

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~Mizu-chan