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November 5th, 2010


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kahn
08:07 am - Fic: Yu Yu Hakusho vs Twilight (3/?)
Title: YYH vs Twilight
Pairings: Kurama/Yuusuke
Warnings: Sparkling vampires. Yuusuke's potty mouth.
Notes: Lovely nightwalker only got to half-beta this before she returned to the land of no internets. Please let me know if there are any glaring errors.
Thanks: Special thanks to nightwalker!
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 3: Phenomenon


Kurama's gaze still made the world slow down, his eyes a vivid green in the paleness of his face. Most of the kids around here had that fish-belly-white look. Kurama managed to make it look good, which I'm sure took a certain talent. I didn't have that same sparkle, but then, I knew half a dozen ways to break a man's jaw with my bare hands so I guess we all had our gifts. That thought helped steady me. It didn't matter how untouchably cool this guy looked, I could still smash his head through the pane glass windows that lined one side of the classroom. Grievous injury is nature's equalizer. No one looks ready for a fashion magazine with missing teeth and blood in their eyes.

There was nervous shifting in the classroom as I approached my seat. I was used to it. I'd lived my life with a bad reputation, and even though it was my first day, the black eye I sported was like wearing a social biohazard suit. Kurama's gaze was so steady, I wondered if the world had slowed down for him, too.

"Do I have something on my face?" I asked, dropping my backpack and hitching my stool under me in a clatter of sound.

He studied me for a moment longer, then said, "You don't look dangerous," in perfect Japanese. He had a mellow voice and precise enunciation. It made me think of green tea and pine trees in winter, calm things. It made me think of home.

"You don't look Japanese," I said. "Who said I was dangerous?"

"That's the rumor. And I'm not Japanese, technically, though I spent my childhood in Japan." He wrote while he talked, and he took notes in kanji, the flow of pencil like an artisan's brush. It was the prettiest handwriting I'd ever seen from a guy. The teacher must have assumed we were talking science, because he didn't hush us as he rambled through his lesson. "What happened to your eye?"

"Door," I said. "Walked into it." I didn't owe an explanation to this asshole, no matter how much I wanted to pull open his prim buttoned collar and taste the skin on his throat.

"Really?" There was no concern in his voice or his eyes, just an unflinching calculation, a careful evaluation for possible weaknesses, razorblade curiosity.

"I'm clumsy."

I sat in Biology class and began to realize I was the frog being prepped for dissection. It was unnerving; it was thrilling, and I began to worry about my mental health. I'd realized early on in my life that I enjoyed violence. There was something clean about it, reducing people down to their most basic components. I liked to see what people did when they were stripped of everything civilized. I was now beginning to realize that I might be a bit masochistic, too. It was only a little gratifying to see he seemed as interested in me as I was in him.

He looked soft on the outside--big eyes, quiet voice, gentle mannerisms. But I was willing to bet Kurama's basic components were all sharp blades and thorny brambles. If I kissed him, he would taste like freezing rain and sweet grass. I wasn't sure how I knew that, but I knew it, and I also knew I wanted to have sex with him. That wasn't much of a revelation. I'd spent the last three years thinking about sex with anything that looked like it might stand still long enough. Gender barely even registered as a blip of surprise, even though I'd never had or wanted to have sex with a guy before.

"You believe rumors?"

"No. I believe my own senses, though." He stopped writing and turned toward me. "What I can see of you. What I hear in your voice."

He shifted closer and my whole body tightened, waiting for him to hit me or for him to touch me, because it looked like he might do one or both. It didn't occur to me until later that I hadn't even considered dodging. I'd just braced for whatever was coming.

He did neither. Instead, he leaned in to take a breath near the skin behind my ear. It gave me full-body shivers, all hairs standing up on end, almost like what I'd experienced in the cafeteria, but more pleasant. Just barely, though. It still felt like I should either book it out of the room or punch this guy in the face. I turned to tell him that maybe he shouldn't go around sniffing people he didn't know without permission, and ended up nose-to-nose, close enough to count his eyelashes, close enough to see that his eyes had stopped being green, and were instead a molten gold.

"You smell like danger," he said, his voice a deeper timbre that almost made it seem like someone else entirely, the sound of it brushing against my lips.

"Well you," I said, "smell like blood."

I was close enough to see his eyes dilate, and it was really fun to watch them turn back from gold to green in an instant. Then he put space between us like I'd pulled a gun on him, paling--and wasn't that a feat, considering that he had only slightly more color than your basic pile of freshly fallen snow.

"So," I said, "which one of us is more dangerous, I wonder?"

That made him stare at me for a few more minutes, but I was getting pretty good at this game by now, and I didn't break eye contact. He looked away first, returning to his note-taking and didn't speak to me for the rest of the class. This sucked for two reasons: one, it left me with no earthly idea of what was going on in Biology and two, if you wanted to have sex with somebody it was generally a bad sign if that somebody was giving you the silent treatment.

Usually, this was where I started putting nails in the coffin, because I didn't know when or even how to shut up when the going got bad. I already had some lines thought up, like, "Does the eye-changing thing make you popular at parties?" "Does the carpet match the curtains?" and the classic, "Do you want to have sex with me? I'm free tonight."

It must have been Hiro's genes that kicked in to save the day, because I managed to say none of those things. I still didn't know what the hell was going on, but that seemed small in comparison to the fact that I might have a chance to get laid by someone who was interesting if slightly creepy. Kurama wasn't making it easy for me, however, ducking out before class was even over. He probably mentioned why to the teacher, but he'd done it in English, and I was really starting to resent not knowing the language.

The last class was gym. I'd never been good at team sports, or team-anything, for that matter. It might come as a surprise, but I didn't like relying on other people. This had made me particularly unpopular in Tokyo's schools because there was heavy emphasis on cooperative clubs and activities.

We were playing volleyball. I picked the biggest, meanest-looking kid on the opposing team and served the ball into his head, knocking him unconscious.

I got to spend the remainder of the period sitting on a hard, wooden bench outside the principal's office, which was where Hiro found me almost an hour later. They hadn't let me walk home. I'm not sure if it was because I was in trouble or they thought I'd get lost without someone to hold my hand.

One look up into Hiro's face and I could tell that even though the teachers weren't entirely sure I'd hurt that other guy on purpose, my father was no chump. Damn the man's ability to loom. At least he waited until I was in the car before starting the lecture.

"You gave the other kid a concussion?"

I rubbed at a grass stain on my knee. It had faded some since the morning, but it still served to remind me that I'd already had one strike against me. "In my defense, he was a lot less tough than he looked."

"That doesn't matter! You don't hurt the other kids!" Trees went by us in a blur. This endless forest was monotonous. The sky was a uniform gray. I suddenly hated this dreary, dull town. "Did he deserve it, at least?"

I couldn't even dredge up a suitable lie. "Not really."

"Then why? Why did you do it?" Hiro drove curves hard when he was angry.

I lurched up against my door and couldn't think of anything I wanted to say. Instead, I fell back on the universal teenager answer: the one-shouldered shrug.

Hiro sighed. "Look, I know this is difficult, but if you want to live here, you've got to at least try to get along. All right? If you get into trouble don't punch your way out of it, okay? Walk away instead."

You had to have big balls to turn your back on an opponent. Sometimes it earned you a lot of points, but mostly it just got you dead. At least, where I was from. Not only was the language foreign, but so was their approach to survival. Turn my back on something dangerous? That was stupid.

Speaking of dangerous, what the hell was up with that Cullen kid? One second, flirting, the next second I'm a potted plant? A potted plant that pissed him off somehow? It was true he smelled like blood. If he didn't want people mentioning it, he should take more showers or something. I didn't mind his scent. Besides, the blood had only been a small part. The rest was...woodsy, like dark earth and green things. Not sunlight, though. No, he smelled like rain. But so did everything in this town.

Hiro turned up the heat to ward off the damp chill and I hunkered down in my seat, ignoring everything for a few minutes and neither one of us said anything for the rest of the drive. When we pulled up to the house, a familiar SUV was parked near the curb and an unfamiliar truck was in the driveway. My day brightened as soon as I saw a fluffy orange-haired head pop around the side of the SUV.

I barely waited for the car to stop before I had the door open and was making my way toward Kuwabara as he wheeled Genkai up our driveway.

"What are you doing here?" I asked by way of greeting.

Kuwabara looked me over and, unlike Kurama, he actually looked a little concerned. "Bad day?"

In spite of myself, I was immediately defensive. "Mind your own business, asshole."

"Be nicer to me, dick. I brought you a present."

"Why?"

He hesitated. "Isn't it your birthday?"

I thought about it. "Oh, shit, it is!"

My mother usually kept me informed about these things. It was her habit to wake me up on my birthday with a kick to the knee at about 3am when she claimed I was born and tell me how I ruined her life. I would call her a bitch, and then we would go out and find some twenty-four hour dive to have breakfast. I missed my mother.

"So what'd you get me? Is it beer?" It felt perfectly normal coming out of my mouth, but settled strangely into the conversation. Did I like beer? I mean, it wasn't like didn't have enough exposure in Tokyo to know what it tasted like.

"You're not old enough for beer," Hiro said as he joined us, fatherly disapproval in his tone, but it seemed mostly a token protest. I immediately wondered how I could weasel a pack out of him. And maybe some smokes. I was suddenly dying for a cigarette. "I almost think I shouldn't give this to you, all things considered."

"Give it to him," Genkai rasped from her chair. "I didn't drive it all the way out here so you could tell him he can't have it."

I stared at her for the moment, then looked at her legs, which were tucked under a flannel blanket, then back to her, trying to wrap my mind around the idea of Genkai driving.

"Hitched it to the back and Kuwabara drove," she said. "Damn idiot."

"Right. So let's talk about this gift. Big breasted women? A kiddy pool full of ice cream?"

"Turn around," Hiro said.

I did, and looked at the truck parked in our driveway. It was kind of awesome, in the way that abandoned houses are cool. The few unrusted places were an old-brick-house kinda red. Someone had replaced the back bumper, recently. It was the only thing on it that had any shine. I'd never seen a pickup truck before, and this one looked like it could've come off the set of any horror movie. I could just imagine it driving into a dusty little town and breaking down so that the intrepid adventurers were forced to ask for help from the seemingly pleasant but secretly murderous townsfolk of Somewhere With Lots Of Cornfields, USA.

"Is it...in the truck?"

"It is the truck," said Genkai, and she didn't say damn idiot again but it was in her voice.

"Oh. I don't know how to drive."

"Of course you know how to drive," Hiro said. The look he gave me, you'd think I hadn't learned just to spite him. "Every seventeen-year-old knows how to drive!"

"Well, I don't." I set my jaw stubbornly. "Not a lot of cause, in Tokyo."

There hadn't been. We had a perfectly functional public transportation system and a lot of crazies with cars. More reason to stay off the roads than to want to get on them.

"I'll teach you," Kuwabara offered. I stopped glaring at Hiro to eye him dubiously.

"Good," Genkai said. "It's settled, then. I think you should try it now, before it gets too dark."

"Hey," I protested. "It's not settled. Nothing was settled. We didn't even discuss anything!"

"Hiro-kun, help me into the house. We can break out Blood Fighter II and I can kick your ass seven ways to Sunday."

"You can try, old hag," Hiro said with a quirked smile that made him look about ten years younger.

"Hey!" I tried again, a little louder this time. "Don't I get a say in anything?"

Kuwabara handed Genkai off to Hiro and then turned back to me. The smirk on his face made my hackles rise. "I'm the boss here, got it?"

He raised his eyebrows and stood a little closer to me, just so it was obvious how much taller he was. I pulled myself up and straightened my shoulders, but it didn't help, much. "You're on a hill."

"Uh-huh. Get in the truck," he said, "boss."

He turned and moved toward the passenger seat while I grumbled and scrambled into the driver's side. "Is this even safe? Is it going to fall apart while we drive?"

"I fixed it up myself."

"Not making a strong case, dude."

"Just start it up, asshole."

I turned the key that was already in the ignition, and when the engine didn't fall out, I started my first driving lesson. We began slow: checking my mirrors, orienting myself to all the whatnots and the thingamajigs on the dashboard, getting used to the petals. The second step was putting the truck in reverse and backing out of the driveway. I almost ran over the mailbox. Then we put the car in drive and aligned with the street. I almost hit the mailbox again but, once we were on a basically straight path, it got easier.

Kuwabara eased off his death grip on the passenger side door and asked, "What do you miss most about Tokyo?"

"The food," I said. Because saying my mom was too sad for words. "What about you? You were raised there, weren't you?"

"Yeah. I miss the baseball."

"America has baseball."

"Not the same, man."

Not being much of a sports fan, I couldn't argue that. "Why did you leave?"

Kuwabara said, "Watch that guy," and eyed a car that slowed to make a turn in front of us. I thought he might answer after that, but he didn't, just continued to watch the road. I could understand not wanting to talk about it. I wasn't sure I would've said anything if the question had been directed at me.

"How long have you guys been here?" I tried instead.

There was no response again. I glanced over at him. He was facing forward, brows drawn down. For a moment, I hesitated. Should I push? Should I leave it alone? Then I thought, hell, when do I ever leave things alone?

"Is Genkai your grandma or what? Your parents around?"

We were getting further away from town. We hadn't passed another car in the last few minutes and the perpetual forest closed in around us. The canopy added to the gloom of an overcast sky and approaching twilight.

"Turn on your headlights," Kuwabara said.

"Look, dude," I said, pushing a few buttons randomly, "if you don't want to talk to me we don't have to talk." I ended up turning on the windshield wipers and then couldn't turn them off. "But this is going to get boring fast, just saying."

"Left side," Kuwabara said.

I groped with my left hand and finally found the lights. The windshield wipers squeaked on dry glass. "Does this thing have a working radio?"

"It's not that I don't want to talk to you. It's just...complicated."

"How the hell do you turn off the windshield wipers?!"

Kuwabara reached out and turned them off without even fumbling. Jerk. "It's just that--Look out!"

The sheer panic in his voice triggered my own and I slammed on the breaks without having to think about it, which I thought damn fine reflexes for someone who just learned where that pedal was.

"What the fuck--?"

Then I saw it. Ahead of us, a migration of animals crossed the road at a steady but hurried pace. Most were deer, but I saw some smaller shapes moving below the beam of the headlights. Behind them, a thick fog obscured the road and trees and swallowed the sound of their hooves to near-silence.

"Is that...normal?"

"No," Kuwabara said. "They're running from something."

"From what?"

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a dark flicker in the trees, blacker than the shadows already gathered there. It was high off the ground, like it was jumping from branch to branch, but it was too big to be a bird. It was person-sized. I tried to see where it was going, but it vanished. Then, out in the fog in front of us, a set of eyes flashed and were gone.

"Did you see that?"

"No and neither did you. Turn the car around."

"I want to know what that was. That was weird." I opened the door and stepped out. The stream of animals was thinning. As I took a few cautious steps forward, they flinched and scattered, the last of them disappearing into the darkness. Kuwabara cursed.

"Do you even watch horror movies, Urameshi?" I heard him open his own car door. "Dammit!"

The air was damp and cold, clinging to my skin. The fog was an almost stationary wall. I could follow the line of it with my eyes as it disappeared into the forest in either direction. There was no more movement, not even the wind. Kuwabara slammed his door, but even that was muted. He stepped up beside me and stared into the fog.

"I don't see anything. Can we leave, now?"

"Something's in there. I need to find out what. Go home if you want to, big baby."

It didn't sound like the smart thing to do, but it seemed like the right thing to do. I put my hand out. The fog almost felt like something solid, like I had to push slightly to make it give. Other than that, it just moisture on my hand, and I began to feel ridiculous, standing in the cold staring at nothing.

Then someone grabbed my wrist in a grip so tight I felt bones grinding against one another.

Kuwabara yelled my name, but I was gone, plunged into darkness like it was the deep ocean, slowing my movement, blurring my vision. Mist surrounded me and I sank, pulled by a touch that was beginning to burn. Eyes confronted me, burning red.

"Yuusuke," said the thing in the fog, in a voice that hurt to hear. "Wake up."



On to Chapter 4!






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