From One to Another

He watched the funeral, of course; it was a form of closure, of farewell; both to the dead and to the world that had nothing to offer him anymore. From a safe distance the youkai observed, carefully monitored by the Reikai escort that had accompanied him. His entire family was there; mother, step-father and brother, friends, co-workers, people he knew in passing. Yusuke and Kuwabara were there as well, and as the only ones who knew the truth about Kurama they were much more reserved and quiet. After all, Kurama had left the world in a rather prosaic manner, an unexpected car accident in front of witnesses. Or at least that was what the witnesses remembered, the truth was much more complex.

'Was it someone you knew?' the Reikai Spirit Detective who was escorting him – escorting him, hah. Koenma just wanted to make sure he wasn't going to give any trouble. After all, he was a dangerous criminal, no matter that he had reformed, and he was no longer on probation anyway. The detective would stay with him until he returned to the Makai.

He watched Minamino Shiori walk up to the grave and lay a bouquet of flowers on it. Old, he realised. She was old now, nearly seventy-five. The bouquet had lilies, as well as he could see from this far. It brought tears to his eyes to see the grieving mother. Uncharacteristic, extremely so, but he deserved a few tears, and damn his pride. Later. When he returned.

'Sir? Did you know him?'

'I did,' the observer replied softly. 'I think I was the only one who ever did.'

'You sound as if you were fond of him.'

'He was a part of me.'

The flat statement took the Reikai man aback; he sneaked one look at an icy glare and retreated into silence.

The funeral seemed to take forever to complete. The observer stood in stony silence, revealing nothing and saying nothing. The last to leave was Kurama's mother, her stepson escorting her gently by the arm. The observer waited until his keen battle-sense told him he was alone, and then he stepped out into the small, pretty cemetery. The funeral was in the evening, and it was a rainy day – how terribly appropriate. It was easier to go invisibly to where the body lay, and place the flowers he had created at the gravestone.

'Roses for the sweet,' he said in a tone not untinged with bitter humour. 'I appreciate the irony completely.' He took a deep breath as he stared down at his last link to the human world. 'Goodbye, then, Minamino Shuuichi. It was good to be you.'

And without another word or gesture, with that innate grace and acceptance of circumstances that characterised his every decision, he turned and left the cemetery, a ghost in silver and white.

A/N: I hope that wasn't too confusing. Oh, well. If any doubts exist, don't hesitate to ask me. I've been accused of Being Cryptic before.