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November 2nd, 2010


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kahn
08:08 pm - Fic: Yu Yu Hakusho vs Twilight (2/?)
Title: YYH vs Twilight
Pairings: Kurama/Yuusuke
Warnings: Sparkling vampires. Yuusuke's potty mouth.
Notes: I'm actually a little embarrassed at how serious this became. It started out as a parody and became another bird entirely. I hope you still enjoy it, though. This is an amalgamation between the Twilight movie and the book.
Thanks: Special thanks to nightwalker who did a very quick and dirty beta-ing. Most of my coherence is because of her!
Summary: Urameshi Yuusuke arrives in Forks. It's not what you think.
Extra Disclaimer: All aspects of Twilight belong to Stephanie Meyer, Little, Brown Publishing, Summit Entertainment, and associated parties. These characters were borrowed without permission, but only for fun and not for commercial purposes.





CHAPTER 2: First Day of School

It was a good thing my fucked up internal clock had gotten me up two hours early, because the first thing my father and I did after more formal introductions was have a nice, long bonding moment, otherwise known as an argument. The abbreviated version went a little like this:

"I don't want to go to school!"

"I don't care."

"I haven't been to school in three years!"

"All the more reason to start."

"I won't know anything!"

"You'll learn. That's what school's for."

"I don't even know the language!"

"I've arranged for a translator and a tutor."

"I ain't helping you pay for it!"

"You don't have to. School's free here, up until College. Which you're also going to, if I have anything to say about it."

That was…horrifying. He expected me to go to more school? After other people got to stop? No, focus. I could worry about that later.

"I don't have a uniform!"

"The school doesn't have one."

"I--they don't?"

"Nope. You can wear those jeans, if you want. Glad to see they fit."

There had been an assortment of clothes in my closet, which I'd discovered while poking nosily through the things in my room as I stalled going downstairs. Most of what I'd found had been approximately my size, and since my own clothes were stiff enough with grime that they'd almost stayed upright when I dropped them outside the shower, I'd decided to try some of the new stuff.

Don't be distracted! I thought. Stick to the negatives!

"I don't want to go!" Maybe he just hadn't heard me the first time.

My father--Urameshi Yoshihiro, as he'd introduced himself a few minutes ago, like I hadn't known, but I guess you can't assume anything if you haven't seen someone for fourteen years; I thought it was weird that Mom had kept his name--finally looked up from the newspaper he'd stuck his stupid nose into when this had begun.

"I assume, since you're repeating yourself, that you've run out of excuses."

I did what I usually did in the face of that hated tone of reason. I tried to pick a fight--a physical one, which I had a much better chance of winning. I kicked the leg of the kitchen table, hard enough to rattle the plates on it. I wanted to knock his coffee mug over, but that thing was a lot more stable than the average tea cup, and it barely wobbled.

This was usually about the time my mom started throwing things at me, so when he folded his paper and picked up his cup, I sat straighter, planting my feet solidly so I could dodge in either direction. But he just stood up and turned to the coffee pot. I froze for a moment of indecision. Should I throw something at him, then? He'd left himself wide open. What the hell was this guy's deal?

My hesitation cost me the chance to make the first move. He came back with his mug in one hand and a frying pan in the other. I admit I flinched when he approached me with it. A cup I could dodge or even knock out of the air if I had to. Frying pans hurt, even if you managed to block it.

But he only set down the mug and then tilted the pan toward me. Then he wiggled it until the last serving of eggs fell onto my plate. I hadn't noticed finishing my first, somewhere amidst yelling. I shoveled eggs into my mouth to cover for my lack of retort.

American breakfasts tasted like junk food, everything covered in butter and salt, with juice so sweet it was like drinking candy. It was awesome. I savored slightly cold scrambled eggs and sopped up leftover bacon grease on my plate with a piece of toast. Both the bread and the bacon were more oddities and tasted a little strange to me, but I was determined to enjoy everything like it was something I shouldn't have.

"When you're ready to go, I'll drive you," Hiro said before picking up his paper and retreating to another room. I reached across the table and stole his cup, drinking his coffee with a grim satisfaction.

I realized, too late to do anything about it, that I'd lost the argument. Hiro claimed victory the same way my mom did: by running away while he was winning. Bastard. I thought about hurling my plate at a wall. If I'd been home I might have done it, but all our dinnerware was plastic. The plate sitting in front of me was good quality, heavy when I lifted it to check the bottom. It was marked and numbered, part of a set. I put it down, nudging my fork with a fingertip. It was real silver, probably stamped and numbered, too. If I could find the rest of the set, I could probably turn a decent profit--

Suddenly, I was disgusted with myself, for not being able to turn off the part of my brain that belonged to the worst bits of my mother. I was pissed at Hiro, too. Hiro, who could have these nice things in this too-large house while the Tokyo streets had turned my mom and me into what we were: beggars and thieves.

I shoved away from the table, greasy breakfast uneasy in my stomach, bile in my throat. I needed to be away from this place. Fuck school. Fuck the old man. Let him try and stop me.

It took me a few minutes to figure out where I'd put my shoes. I was about to leave without them when I found them by the door. Old habits died hard, I guessed. Even half asleep, I'd kicked them off in the entranceway.

Hiro caught me wriggling my foot into the second one.

"Ready to go?"

"Not going," I muttered to the door, hand on the handle, forward momentum already in motion.

His hand on my arm jerked me up short. My usual turn and twist didn't dislodge him, either. "Yuusuke. You're going to school."

His voice had deepened, settling roots in parental authority. He hung onto my arm like a pro, like a cop. A sinking sense of doom turned me around.

"What's your job?"

"Excuse me?"

I thought I'd been pretty clear, but I broke it down for him. "Your job. What you do for a living. What is it?"

"I'm the Chief of Police. You didn't know that?"

I stared at him, rifling through my collection of appropriate responses. Nothing. Flat empty.

A cop, Mom? A COP? Really? You sent me to live with the goddamned sheriff?

Hiro looked suddenly uncertain, which was fine because I was sure I looked like a stunned fish. "Is it...really that big a deal?"

Shit. I'd be in juvie in a hot minute. I'd spent most of my life being raised by Urameshi Atsuko, who'd taught me the smart ways to drink, smoke and gamble before I'd been ten, and that was the tame stuff. This was not good.

Time to fall back to my default solution: violence. I punched him in the face and ran out the door. He caught me at the bottom of the steps with a flying tackle he must have picked up from American football and the bastard was heavy.

That was how we both showed up on my first day of school with matching black eyes. The woman at the front desk jumped up at the sight of us, coming around to coo over my father at closer range. She was attractive enough that I didn't mind when she did the same to me. I don't know what story Hiro gave her about our mutually disheveled state because he spoke to her in English, but I got to stare at some very perky breasts for a while, so I didn't mind. Not even when Hiro smacked me on the back of the head after she turned away.

Next, the principal introduced himself. He was big and barrel-chested like a proper prison warden. He was mostly bald, but had the attitude of a man who didn't give a shit and shrewd but friendly eyes. Lifer, I expected, probably spent decades in the school system, as a student or teacher. The thought alone made me queasy.

Then they dragged out what I suspected was the only other Asian kid in the school. He was unfairly tall, though he hunched in on himself so it was difficult to tell, and he was skinny. His slick black hair parted in the middle with enough gel that it lay flat behind his ears, skin kind of off-white like he spent all day indoors staring at a computer screen. A smattering of pimples dotted his chin. He wore a button-down shirt and slacks, which wouldn't have been weird to me, until I remembered that this school didn't have uniforms.

I knew this kid. Maybe not this one, exactly, but ones just like him. I'd seen kids like him beaten up and their lunch money stolen in six different school systems all over Tokyo, though I personally had never done the beating. I preferred to take on the bullies themselves. More challenge in it, more satisfaction and, generally, more money.

It was clear he didn't know that last bit about me, from the way his eyes flinched during introductions. To him, I was just a dangerous kid and that meant I was bad news. Fair enough. I was bad news. Just not for him.

"This is Yorukie Eriku," Hiro said. "He's going to be your translator and tutor while you settle in."

I looked at the kid, searching for something neutral to say. I didn't want him to be any more skittish than he already was, especially since he was going to be my anchor in a storm of white people.

"Eriku?" I questioned, finally, because it was a strange name.

"Eric," he corrected, his tongue nimble on the flat vowels and sudden stops of an American accent.

I wasn't going to be able to imitate that so, rather than humiliate myself, I said, "Eri-ko."

He wrinkled his nose, but said nothing. I took that as permission to mangle his name and basically call him a girl. Yeah, our relationship was already off to a great start.

"Urameshi Yuusuke," I introduced myself, because it was the first polite thing that popped into my head, even though I was pretty sure the principal had already told him who I was during the English half of this conversation.

Eri-ko raised an eyebrow. "Ghost?"

I frowned. The kanji in my name was the same as the word for "malevolent spirit." My mom had picked it out herself. "Yeah."

"Evil ghost? That's a little dark, don't you think?" he pressed, a tiny quirk in his mouth daring me to start shit in front of the adults.

He didn't know me. I didn't give a shit what rules people thought I should obey, even if those people were authority figures. The compulsion to smash his nose in was so strong I could picture it happening, and not even because of anything he'd said, not really. Just because he was pushing and I wanted to be sure I was the last one standing. "Finish things before other people even know they're starting." That was Mom's first rule of survival.

But I wasn't in my mom's world anymore. I glanced at Hiro, who stood with a slightly anxious expression on his face, like he knew how close I was to losing it and he wasn't sure what to do. What would he want me to do?

I unclenched my fists.

"Yeah."

Eri grinned. "Yuu-kun, then."

The slap of friendliness was startling. I had to backpedal a little and sort of turn my brain sideways to replay the what he'd said. So he hadn't been challenging me? He'd been teasing?

He offered me a hand and I shook it. I didn't even crush his fingers or anything. The nerd was ballsy. Interesting.

Hiro clapped me on the shoulder, had a few words with the principal and then left me to my fate. Thus, my day began.

It ran like this: the first half of my schedule was one-on-one with Eri-ko, who was apparently so smart he could opt independent study for half his classes. We concentrated on the things I was shit at starting with US history. About ten minutes into our first lesson, Eri-ko decided to broaden the subject to history in general since I'd barely cared enough about my own country to know any of its past. The second topic was English--the language, and then English--the literature. After that we broke for lunch.

"I won't take your lunch money and throw you in a locker," I told Eri, "but you are paying for lunch."

"Um," Eri said, shouldering his bag and leading me into the empty hallway. We'd been a little late getting out, so most people were already in the cafeteria. "Lunch is paid per semester. Your dad probably already set up an account for you."

"If you're wrong, I'm putting your head in a toilet and flushing."

"Noted. Did you learn all your bullying tactics from the 80s? I'm pretty sure no one actually gives swirlies anymore."

I grinned. "Classics never die. You want me to show you?"

"No thanks," he said, shying away as we entered the cafeteria.

Walking through those doors was like hitting a wall of sound. I actually stopped, trying to absorb it all. That was a mistake. Taking in everything all at once was overwhelming, just a blur of faces I didn't know speaking a language I didn't understand. I wasn't used to this many people my age in one location. I had stopped going to school when it stopped being free, which was after junior high.

I stood there long enough that heads began to turn in my direction, so I decided to focus on things I knew, like food. Americans ate some weird things, but I knew pizza and fries. One of my mom's less sucky boyfriends had taught me the joys of pizza and beer. Then he'd tried to get me drunk and feel me up. I'd tossed him out on his ear. Fun times. He'd still been one of the better ones. I had the sudden thought that my alcohol tolerance must come from Hiro, because Mom was a total lightweight.

It turned out Eri was right about prepaid lunches, which was good, because I wasn't going to beat him up for his money and I was hungry. Once I exited the lunch line, tray in hand, he gravitated back to me bearing a salad. We exchanged disgusted glances at each other's food choices, and then he led me to a table. It was distressingly full of other people. Whirlwind introductions took place, a slew of names that I had no hope of remembering. I'm not good with names on the best of days. To me, they were Blond Guy, Blonde Girl, Perky Chick, and Other Girl.

They kept trying to pull me into conversations, pausing so Eri-ko could translate back and forth. They seemed willing to keep me in the loop, but I wasn't interested in talking. I'd been talking all morning, wrapping my brain around more difficult and more foreign subjects than I'd ever had to deal with before.

My brain and I had an agreement. It processed basic functions and worked overtime when I was in a fight, and I didn't try to kill it with drugs or paint fumes or complicated intellectual stimuli. I'd totally broken my end of the bargain on at least one count, today.

Someone inform my mother. It took moving halfway around the world, but I didn't want to be the center of attention. I'd try again tomorrow. Maybe a day would make the difference.

I actually felt the moment when all focus shifted. Not just at our table, away from me, but all around us. It made me turn and look at the door without knowing why.

They entered in twos, a girl on the arm of a guy. The first set was a blonde girl with a large dark-haired guy, and they were a study of opposites. The girl was finely boned with serious, intense eyes. There was something fragile about her, though nothing was obviously, physically wrong. The boy was all wide shoulders, impressive biceps, expression on the verge of laughter, an energetic bounce in his long strides.

The second set had a dark-haired girl, smaller than all of them. She was with a yellow-haired boy, and had a rhythm in her step like she danced to a silent song. The boy walked stiffly, like a soldier on duty, a pained expression on his face.

At the sight of them, my entire body went tense, my heart jumping to my throat, beating so hard that I could feel my pulse thumping against my jugular. The hair on my arms and the back of my neck and even my scalp seemed to stand up on end. I didn't know what was going on, but something about those people triggered a very strong flight-or-fight response.

I asked, "Who are they?" and then started at the sound of my own voice. It had dropped into a guttural growl, like I was the goddamned Batman or something. It surprised me enough to beak my focus, and I could actually hear the answer to my own question.

Perky Chick and Other Girl answered in voices both gossipy and breathy. Eri's tone as he reiterated was more matter-of-fact than star-struck.

"They're Dr. and Mrs. Cullen's foster kids. They moved down from Alaska two years ago. They kinda keep to themselves. Jessica seems to think they're together together." At my blank look, Eri added. "They're matched off into couples. Rosalie is the blond girl and she's going out with Emmet. Alice is the little dark-haired one, and she's dating Jasper, the tall guy who looks like he's in pain all the time."

None of that information was useful at all. "Are they dangerous?"

Eri blinked at me. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." But I had no words for this reaction. It wasn't fear, really. I was wariness, but mostly it was anger, like we were all alpha-somethings and I'd discovered them trespassing on my territory. I wanted them gone or I wanted them showing me throat, and I couldn't decide which I preferred. They were all gorgeous in a well-groomed sort of way, like models in a photo shoot. Nice to look at but not necessarily something I could lust after. At first glance, they were all form and no substance, but if that were true than I should've been able to ignore them like I did almost everyone else. "Tell me more about the Cullens."

While Eri translated, I worked on loosening my muscles, unclenching my fists, breathing easy. I'd just about gotten my heart rate back to normal when the last Cullen walked in. Then everything slowed way down.

He was rendered in bright, vivid colors that made everything else look gray by comparison, like an anime character standing in a shaded manga panel. His hair was deep red, worn in a short ponytail, wisps too short to be caught in the band falling in front to frame a face that was delicate enough to be called pretty, with a slender runner's build and broad shoulders.

Another tall person, I thought with a dim and distant flash of annoyance.

He wore a ridiculously preppy outfit of long sleeve shirt and vest, which was even more ridiculous for looking good on him. From this distance I couldn't see, but I knew, knew, that his eyes would be a startling green. I also knew that he'd flatten me in an instant if I gave him reason. How did I know that? Why did I want to grab his arm and drag him off to...what? Plot world domination? Talk about sweet nothings? Fuck him? All three?

When he turned away to join the others at their Table of Isolation near the back of the cafeteria, things slowly, slowly returned to normal.

"That," Eri announced with an air of someone reading subtitles written in a dramatic font, "is Kurama Cullen."

I watched the whole family pose gracefully in their chairs and knew for a fact that they weren't real teenagers. Real teenagers wouldn't look like they'd just walked off the set of Everybody's Unnaturally Gorgeous. Real teenagers didn't spend their time hanging out around food not eating. The only thing about them that reminded me of real teenagers were the dark circles under their eyes.

It could be argued that staring at a group of people all lunch period could be considered creepy. I considered it research. Besides, I was being watched back. I caught Kurama looking my way several times and it wasn't like he was just checking to see what the hell I was up to, it was like he was perfectly willing to stare me down, only he kept getting distracted by the little dark-haired girl who poked him in the side and spoke to him with bright, happy gestures.

Minutes must have passed. I wasn't really keeping track of time at that point, but eventually the little dark-haired Cullen-girl stood up and danced, all grace and whimsy, toward the exit. When she paused to throw away an uneaten apple, I thought wasteful out of sheer habit, and she glanced toward me, eyes meeting mine for the first time. She winked, then smiled blissfully and exited. After that, one by one, the Cullens trickled out and I realized I had two minutes to stuff my food in my face and get to my next class.

Even though I'd spent all lunch on edge because of the Cullens, when they were gone, the world seemed a little less bright, a little less interesting.

I ate pizza and didn't taste it. Pizza! World's greatest food! I could forgive myself for not remembering the rest of lunch, but I would mourn for the pizza later. Now, I had to get through the rest of my day, which consisted of my three integrated classes. This meant they thought I could handle sitting in the back and listening to a lesson I couldn't understand.

First was math. That was easy enough. Numbers were numbers even if I didn't know the specific words for them. I could read the board well enough to keep up, and Eri sat beside me to help when I got stuck.

At least, it should have been easy. Instead, I kept getting distracted by my own brain. There were bits of Kurama that didn't fit in his own equation. His clothes seemed more like a costume to me than a fashion statement, like he wore them just to blend in or match preconceived notions.

Complete the square on the X term.

What was he really like, then? What did he smell like, I wondered. The radius of the circle is the distance from C to the x-axis.

Around here, everything smelled like rain, but I bet he smelled like grass, carry the three. Grass and sunlight, like summer. Subtract the two. I wondered if he was a natural redhead. Then add the five and...

Wait, what the hell was I solving for?

Biology was the next class. I could only hope that we cut something up. That would keep my attention. Eri-ko had to leave me, but he promised someone else who was fluent in Japanese had been assigned as my lab partner. I wasn't sure who. I hadn't seen another Asian person, not that I'd really been looking.

The cheerful biology teacher met me at the door with a passable attempt at a, "Konnichi wa," and then pointed me to my seat.

Part of me was not even surprised to see the person sitting in the chair next to mine. His red hair caught attractively golden highlights even under the fluorescent bulbs as he turned and looked at me.

Kurama.



On to Chapter 3!





Who wants to make me a "Do I Dazzle You?" Kurama icon? XD

(10 comments | Leave a comment)

Comments:


[User Picture]
From:elfiepike
Date:November 3rd, 2010 01:30 am (UTC)
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THIS. THIS IS GENIUS. EVEN ALLCAPS CANNOT PROPERLY EXPRESS THE GLEE I AM FEELING RIGHT NOW, OMG. XD XD XD
[User Picture]
From:kahn
Date:November 7th, 2010 06:35 pm (UTC)
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THANK YOU! I'm glad you're enjoying it! :-D
[User Picture]
From:lady_flamewing
Date:November 3rd, 2010 01:48 am (UTC)
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YES. I can't even count the number of times I giggled aloud.
[User Picture]
From:kahn
Date:November 7th, 2010 06:36 pm (UTC)
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Yay! I tried to make it as humorous as possible, even though it's not really a spoof anymore.
[User Picture]
From:lady_flamewing
Date:November 8th, 2010 02:21 am (UTC)
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I think my boyfriend got tired of me reading aloud basically the entire fic.
[User Picture]
From:kahn
Date:November 9th, 2010 07:58 pm (UTC)
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Poor guy. He should just read it himself. ;-D
[User Picture]
From:scheherezhad
Date:November 3rd, 2010 08:27 pm (UTC)
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I love this to itty tiny pieces of yay. :DDD
[User Picture]
From:kahn
Date:November 7th, 2010 06:37 pm (UTC)
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Thank you so much! *hugs*
[User Picture]
From:supplanter
Date:November 4th, 2010 05:12 am (UTC)
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ZOMG YUU-KUN IS GOING TO HAVE KURAMA'S ASSBABY :DDDDDDD

... they can call it puu? >.>

orz

[User Picture]
From:kahn
Date:November 7th, 2010 06:38 pm (UTC)
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That's...a disturbing thought. And disturbing description, especially when I picture it eating its way out like the original Renesmee did.

Puu. Ha! "Look, Yuusuke, it has your hair!"

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