Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction ❯ The Parting of the Ways ❯ Realization ( Chapter 4 )

/Kurama's house/ Shiori Minamino was waiting in the kitchen, waiting for her son to come home. She didn't know what had really happened several days ago, but she did know that one of the boys who hung out with her son had been killed. Shuichi had explained that `something' had happened in the backyard, something that had felled the oak tree and had generated an intense heat. The tree had fallen on Yusuke, and the heat had done the rest. The police suspected some kind of explosion, but she was doubtful.

Before her were several photo albums. All were open to pictures of Shuichi, at different ages. When did he first begin acting so strange? she thought. The pictures of him as a baby, a toddler…they were all just images of a laughing, rosy cheeked boy with red hair, playing, or showing his mother something he had done. When had he changed? The first two albums offered no answer, but the third one did. I remember. It was when he turned ten. Here were pictures from that time, and here was the beginning of the changes. Before his tenth birthday, Shuichi had been nothing but her son, a gifted child, but still hers. He laughed often, played happily with friends, and was always sleeping over at their houses, or else bringing them back to sleep over with him. Then he had turned ten.

Here was a picture of that day. He was in the middle of a cluster of his friends, but he looked…distant. Another picture, this one of him about to blow out the candles on his cake. He looked somehow sad, as if turning ten heralded something he didn't want to happen. Shiori also remembered what had happened after his birthday. Several days later, Shuichi had come down with some kind of virus, and had remained in bed for the better part of four days. He had begged her not to take him to a doctor, and she had agreed. Twice, when she walked past his bedroom door, she heard him crying, although she didn't know what it was he cried for. Almost as soon as he had recovered, more changes occurred. Anyone should have noticed, but she, the loving mother, hadn`t seen the way these changes had been those of her son becoming something else. He seemed like he wasn't her son sometimes. They had seemed so…insignificant. He had chosen to grow his hair out, much longer than was considered normal for a boy. He had grown apart from his friends, become a solitary child, and immersed himself in his studies. He had taken an interest in gardening, and proved to have more than a gift for it. It was as if the plants obeyed his every wish. He'd taken up running in the mornings, become much stronger than the other boys his age…had become more independent. But that wasn't all he had done.

She really didn't know what he did when he wasn't at home. He would come home sometimes, dirty, bruised, bleeding…even sick, and tell her he was just working with some plants. She accepted it, assuming that it was just her little boy growing up. Speaking of growing up, he certainly had shot up in the last few years… But she was wandering off her current topic.

She had first noticed that the things were happening when she had gotten sick…it had been when he was fifteen. She remembered him coming into her room in the hospital, and he had brought a friend with him. That same friend, in fact, who had died several days ago. Later that evening, she had drifted into a hazy muddle, and had thought I suppose this is it… She had been certain that she was going to die, and her only regret was leaving her son to fend for himself. Almost as soon as she had thought of him, she saw his face, a shock of electricity had run though her, and then she'd woken up again. He had come running in right after, looking pale and weak, but overjoyed at her condition. Later, one of the doctors had told her that she had nearly died.

It was just a few days later that he'd come home hurt again. But this time, it was much more serious than anything he'd had before. The door had banged open, and she had looked up from the table, where she was sorting recipes, to ask how his day had been. To her shock, he was leaning against the wall, shirtless except for strips of cloth wound around his lower torso, pressing his jacket to his belly. The cloth, which happened to be the remains of his shirt, and his jacket were both stained with blood. Frantic, she had leaped to her feet and run to him, asking what had happened. All he had said was that he'd been stabbed, and he'd told her not to take him to see a doctor. She had agreed, and then set to the task of tending to his injuries. He was truthful about being stabbed, but the wound seemed too big to have been caused by a knife. There was a second wound in his back, level with the one in his stomach. When she asked, he simply said that he'd `been caught first from behind'. To her, it looked more like he'd been completely run through.

He had healed, as he always did, and then vanished. Shiori had heard him mumbling about a trial in his sleep, but ignored it. When he returned, he was a mess, and had another stomach wound. This one was a long slash and again, she didn't think a knife had caused it. Directly afterwards, he'd started telling her about three young men he'd met, and apparently befriended.

That was the first time he had spoken of friends since his tenth birthday she realized. After this, he had been constantly in and out, once staying away for several weeks. Almost every time, he returned with a new injury for her to fuss over. Still…no matter how long he was gone for, he always completed his schoolwork on time. This seemed to be enough for her, and she didn't understand why she hadn't asked about what was really going on sooner. Maybe it was because he was never there, or maybe it was because she had turned a blind eye to all the things he did that ought to have worried her. But she saw them now. The accident in her own backyard had been like a slap in the face, telling her that under no circumstances was her child a normal boy.

 

The door opened, and then slammed shut, startling her from her memories. Shuichi, dressed completely in black, hurried inside.

“I made dinner dear.”

“Thanks Mom, but I'm not hungry.”

“But…you haven't eaten a thing since yesterday!”

“Mom, I'll be fine. I just…I'm not feeling well, alright? I'm going to bed.” This said, Shuichi turned and ran out of the kitchen and upstairs. Shiori heard his bedroom door slam shut. She sighed.

How can I ask him anything when I can't even talk to him anymore? She thought, going back into the kitchen to collect her photo albums. She no longer needed to go through the pictures they held, searching for an answer. She knew that he was different, and all she had to do now was find out why, and what he had become.

 

/Meanwhile, upstairs/ As soon as he was in his room, Kurama turned his back on the door and yanked the curtains over the windows. As a second thought, he opened both windows, but left the curtains closed. A cool breeze found its way inside, and played with the papers on the desk. Kurama stepped away from the windows, undoing the tie in his hair as he went. His belt went next, hitting the floor with a dull thud, followed by the rest of his clothes, except for his boxers, which remained on, for the sake of any unexpected and unwanted visitors who might show up. Namely, his mother. He knew full well that she could come in if she wanted to. He didn't have the heart to keep her out. No matter how upset he was, she was still his mother, and he loved her. How long can I keep this up? She'll find out someday…she'll have to. But…she won't believe it. It's really better if she doesn't know. He had told himself that over and over again. But it was not the time to wonder about how she might take it if she knew what he was, and the thoughts quickly vanished form his mind. Crossing the bedroom floor a second time, the tall youth flopped face down on his bed, and lay there for a moment, then rolled onto his side. The pictures on his desk met his gaze, and one of them stood out in particular. It was of him and Yusuke. The two of them were at the beach, part of a forced vacation and get-together sort of thing that Koenma had organized. Keiko had been there, carrying a camera and laughingly taking pictures of everyone. That had been when she and Yusuke had been more than just friends, that brief period of time when they'd been together.

Kurama remembered just how the picture had been taken too…He had been sunbathing on the sand, and Yusuke had been a little ways out on the water, messing around with a body-board or something. Quite suddenly, an exceptionally large wave had crashed onto the sand, dumping a large quantity of water, as well as Yusuke, right onto him. Of course, his immediate response had been to struggle when the full weight of another person slammed into him, and when the water had slid back down to the sea again, Keiko had snapped the picture before either one of them could protest. He'd gotten a copy of it later, as a gift. It showed him half lying down, half trying to get up, tangled with Yusuke, the body board, and the cord that ran from it to Yusuke's wrist.

Emerald green eyes blurred with hot tears. Why had Yusuke been the one to die? If anyone had to die, why couldn't it have been him? The tears started to fall, silently at first, but soon accompanied by quiet sobs, which grew into miserable wails. These wails carried down the stairs and right to his mother's ears.

Shiori winced at the sound. What could be going on up there? Cautiously, she went up the stairs and halted outside the bedroom door. “Shuichi? May I come in?” The response was rather hard to understand, mangled as it was by his crying, but Shiori managed to get an affirmative out of it, and opened the door.

“What's wrong?” she asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Shuichi shook his head, and said nothing. “You can tell me.” He seemed to think it over for a moment, and then sat up.

“It was my fault.” He whispered.

“What was?”

“His death. Y-yusuke d-d-died because of m-m-m-m-me.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Shuichi shook his head. “Will you tell me later?”

“Maybe.” What Shuichi did next surprised the heck out of his mother. Sitting up, he buried his face in the front of her blouse and resumed his crying. What was such a surprise was not the fact that Shuichi had never been this emotional in his life, but rather that he allowed his mother to see him in such a state. Smiling slightly in spite of herself, Shiori wrapped her arms around her son and held him close. Questions could wait for the moment.