Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction ❯ White Rice and Soy Sauce ❯ One-Shot

HieiWannabe: Hey, folks! I wrote another angsty fic! It's got a kind of a happy ending, though.

Wynne: Don't give away too much, HW. HieiWannabe doesn't own YYH or Rogaine. In fact, the only thing in this fic that she owns is the annoying alarm clock. >_<

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White Rice and Soy Sauce

Yusuke's POV

For possibly the hundredth time tonight, I roll over and look at the clock. Even though the sun is just beginning to peek through my curtains, the clock reads five thirty-six in the afternoon. Just seven more minutes to go…

In an attempt to take my mind off the anxiety twisting in my gut, I look around my bedroom. Except for the clock, an ordinary human would probably have difficulty recognizing anything here. I suppose that makes sense, since this is my bedroom, and I am neither human nor ordinary.

I am a demon, well, half-demon, really, and I am the lord of one-third of the known demon world. And even though I've been living here and performing my duties for thirty-two years, I still feel somewhat out of place, sometimes. Today is one of those times. Today is a day that my past comes up and grabs my collar and shakes me hard.

On this day, thirty-two years ago, the love of my life passed away.

Well, a glance at the clock tells me I still have six minutes to go before it will have been thirty-two years.

That's why I brought this clock with me when I left the Ningenkai for good. I told myself I would have felt weird without this mundane memento, but I knew I really wanted it so I could know for sure when would be the anniversary of Keiko's passing. Hokushin thought it was a strange thing to bring, because Makai does not have electricity, nine-volt batteries might be hard to come by, and wind-ups are notoriously unreliable. But, I would not be moved, so he asked Yomi to jerry-rig something that would work. And now, I find myself captivated by this small, white box that reads five thirty-eight in large, glowing red numbers.

Sometimes I think, if it were not for the clock I would have gotten used to living on Makai time. The days are shorter, but the years are longer, so it evens out somewhat. But I know better. If I did not have the clock to focus on, I would find something else.

It is five thirty-nine, now, and I can not help but reminisce about a time when I never paid much attention to clocks, a time when She was still alive.

One scene is particularly vivid in my memory, as it always is this time of year.

Keiko had wanted to hold a dinner party for some of her friends from work. One of them had gotten married, or promoted, or mugged, or something. I was not over-joyed by the prospect, because in our house, a dinner party for Keiko's friends means `No demons allowed'. Except me, I guess. But I never felt particularly welcome, either. Oh, we loved each other and were happy, but I could not deny the call of the other world, and so I often had a hard time making fully-human friends. Which meant I would be out-numbered by `normals', yet again.

That might not have been so bad, except that I had never met any of these work-friends before, and people went through a certain ritual when they found out who Keiko was married to. They would stare for a moment, then avert their eyes. Throughout the rest of the meeting, they would give my wife sickeningly supportive glances, and finally end the painful event with a comment about how `different' we were.

This party was no different in that respect, but it was memorable for Keiko's response. "It's because Yusuke and I are so different that we fit together so well," she had said.

"Sometimes I think I'm like a bowl of white rice. Plain white rice is a good dish, but by itself it will get boring pretty quickly. That's why people usually put something, like soy sauce, I guess, on it." Keiko had shyly turned to me at this remark, and I could see the love shining in her eyes. "Yusuke is like that soy sauce. If he weren't here, my life would be so dull and ordinary I don't think it would be worth living."

It was obvious her guests didn't buy it, because they muttered incomprehensible responses and left soon after. But I kept thinking about what she had said as I watched them drive off, returning to their normal, boring, flavorless lives. And I thought to myself how glad I was that Keiko liked soy sauce on her rice.

But that was then, this is now, and soy sauce, by itself, is not even a meal. And now I have two minutes left.

I groan and try to find a portion of my pillow that is not soaked with tears. I am not afraid to cry, and no one is foolish enough to say it makes me weak. Well, no one who is still alive, anyway.

It is times like this that I envy Hiei and Kurama. They have a real on-again, off-again romance. I hear it is so bad that Hiei's attendants are always afraid of forwarding Kurama's letters to the runt. They never know for sure when those two are speaking, and when Hiei might rip their heads off for mentioning the fox's name.

They can live like that, unlike me. But then, they are more like soup and sandwiches; they go great together, but are also fine by themselves. While I am just soy sauce, and I often feel like I am sitting around, waiting for someone to pick me up and do something with me.

*buzz buzz buzz*

The annoying ring of the alarm clock tells me that history has finally caught up with me. It is such an irritating sound, but I just let it ring. After all the tossing and turning I have engaged in for the last six hours, I suddenly feel strangely immobile. I can not even raise my hands to my face to stem the flow of hot tears down my cheeks.

If anyone out there wants immortality, here, you can have mine.

I even tried to see Keiko in Spirit World. But pacifier-breath told me she had already moved on. He said she was such a good person that it was easy to place her. I remember I told him he better have put her in the best damned place he had. I think I remember crying.

I can feel Hokushin's youki coming down the hall, toward my door. I do not want him to see me like this, so I turn off the alarm and pick up a comb, then move to the dresser and try to tame my wild mane.

"Yusuke-sama, are you awake?" The familiar voice calls through the door.

"Yeah, I'm up. Gimme a few minutes, wouldja?" I hope he will not be able to make out the constriction in my voice.

"Of course, sire. But, please hurry, the new aide has arrived."

I groan at that. What with everything else that has been happening, I had forgotten I will be getting a new aide today. I quickly finish with my hair, grab a new pair of trousers and a tunic from the closet, and make my way to the door, still fastening the clasps. Hey, might as well get it over with quickly. Maybe I can take the rest of the day off after this.

"So, what's he like?" I ask.

"She is rather young, early thirties I believe, but she comes highly recommended. Her name is Akari." After sneaking a furtive glance at my downcast expression, my advisor adds, "She's also quite attractive."

I have to close my eyes to keep from rolling them. If hairless, humorless Hokushin is trying to set me up, I must really be bad. What might be next? Etiquette lessons from Hiei? A mohawk from Kurama? Oh, boy…

Fortunately, we have arrived at the audience chamber, and after introductions, Rogaine's worst nightmare decides to leave us alone.

Now that I look, I have to admit he was right. She is very pretty. A young cat-demon of average height but above-average curves, with shoulder-length brown hair, rich golden eyes and a sweet smile. She is wearing a cute little skirt that reaches to just above her knees.

Maybe it is the resemblance, or maybe I have been alone too long, but I find myself facing a wicked urge to pick up an old, bad habit. After a moment's hesitation I remind myself that I never was one to ask permission.

"Hey, Akari, nice skirt," I tell her, while using that oh-so-clever line to distract her as I demonstrate my appreciation for her, uh, outfit.

Of course, the distraction has never worked before, and it fails to work now.

"Yusuke, you jerk!"

*smack*

*thud*

That slap really hurt! I am surprised, and as I wait for my ears to stop ringing, I consider the facts. Her age is about right, early thirties, her clothing and attitude both express a (usually) mild manner, and that slap could have won her a title.

Is it really possible…?

Getting up, I shake myself off, grin, and rub my cheek. "Wow, you're good!" She blushes. "Hey, I'm not really a jerk. How about to make it up to you, I treat you to dinner? You can have anything you want, as long as the cooks are making it today."

The little cat's glare morphs into a look of startlement. Then she raises a dainty hand and giggles, "Oh, Yusuke-sama, you're too much!"

"Ain't it the truth!" I exclaim. As I start toward the dining room, she falls in just behind me. Just before exiting the room, I look over my shoulder at her and ask, "By the way, do you like soy sauce?"

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Wynne: Was that an ending?

HieiWannabe: It's one of my non-ending endings!

Wynne: O.o That doesn't make any sense.

HieiWannabe: Don't worry your pretty little head over it. Anyway, yes, I was implying that Akari might have been a reincarnated Keiko, and no, I'm not saying she definitely was. The point of this story wasn't to make a nice, happy ending where everybody lives happily-ever-after in a wonderful world without lawyers and used-car salesmen, it was to show how Yusuke's broken heart might mend.

I don't have any plans for writing another chapter, so don't wait around for it. On the other hand, if a whole bunch of people start begging for a question-less ending, I might whip something up. However, since I'm not exactly being buried in reviews, I don't think I need to start working on a plot.

MysticSonictheHedgehog, or however you spell it: Sorry pal, but I had to put the shonen-ai in there somewhere! At least I didn't go into detail, just mentioned that they were together. But, if you ever suggest Kurama/Botan again you will find out that I can do *much* worse things to you than just say, 'Hiei and Kurama forever!' Have I made myself clear? ^_~