Disclaimer: I do not own YuYu Hakusho.

Mother.

The word settled oddly in her ears. It's implications of warmth and kindness coiled around her throat like a collar, like cigarette smoke.

Choking.

Burning.

Untouchable.

Being a mother was being responsible. Confident. Sure.

Atsuko was certain that confidence and surety were only natural to older women. Women who were experienced and gentle and competent. Women with soft hands and good food, women with cradling arms and breasts. Milk, lavender smells, loose hair, love.

Atsuko was not a mother. She knew it, as she weakly held the whimpering, gurgling bundle of blankets to her chest. She knew it, even as she wondrously traced his sealed eyes and red skin, that she was not a mother.

Mothers weren't fourteen.

Mothers didn't drink and smoke during their pregnancies.

Mothers didn't associate with Yakuza members.

Atsuko gave the baby her knuckle to suckle on, noted the hair already sticking chaotically into her face, so soft and thin.

"What do I name you, baby," she muttered tenderly, taking his fist. Counted the dimples on his tiny fingers. "What do I call you?"

The baby didn't answer, only gave up sucking on her milkless fingers before turning his face into her neck. She felt his little nose bump against her collar bone through the hospital gown and her heart expanded, turned swollen and burning and frantic.

She wasn't a mother.

She couldn't take care of this baby. She hadn't been ready for him and he would grow up to be disappointed by her, unable to do what other mothers could do. She would be always, always too young. Incapable, in over her head.

This baby, her baby.

His father was not in the picture.

His grandparents had thrown her out.

This baby, her son.

The orderlies had looked at her with pity, with disgust. She cradled him awkwardly, and eventually the grip became natural, suited her hands. He was falling asleep, and he really looked nothing like his father, and for that she was grateful. Her son. All hers. Only hers.

"Yusuke." She tried the name out self consciously. She felt so exhausted. But she had to start trying, dammit.

No one else was looking out for her. No one had been looking out for her.

"Yusuke," she said again. He stirred this time, slowly closed his fingers around her pinky in his sleep.

She was here. Someone would be here for him.

He would turn out better.

He smiled then, completely unexpectedly. His eyes were still closed. He was all gums.

He'd smiled.

Her head exploded.

Because she was a mom.

Atsuko was only fourteen. She'd never even started high school yet. She didn't meet any requirements. But she knew it then. She was still a mother.

She smiled.

A/N: So, me and a friend were talking.

Me: "Man, I'm seriously craving YYH right now. And there's like, no Atsuko fics. At all. So I wrote that."

Her: "AUGH. THAT WAS SO WONDERFULLY YES."

Me: "Thanks. I thought there'd be others for her though. Sad face."

Her: "Eh. It's not all that surprising. Mostly main focus is on the boys."

Me: "I know."

Her: "Then vaguely the girls..."

Me: "But there's always that obscure author who likes minor characters though, and does awesome stories on them."

Her: "...and then every blue moon, like. Shizuru."

Me: "I SHALL BE THAT OBSCURE AUTHOR."

Atsuko needs more love (:

- vivevoce