A/N

Hey guys/readers/demons spying on human civilization! It's been a while since I've done anything on fan-fiction, but I was sick over Thanksgiving Break and I decided to take a break form my serious works to hammer out an idea thats been swirling through my head for awhile. Hope you guys enjoy, and I know it may seem a bit slow at first, but I'm trying to tackle this fan fiction like I would a real novel, so bear with me here :)

Anyway, enjoy! Oh, and I don't own Yu Yu Hakusho. If I did, I wouldn't have to fight for scholarships to afford tuition.

Chapter 1—From Hell

"Dad!" Grace shoved open the kitchen door and dropped her backpack to the floor with a heavy thud.

As par usual, her father was engrossed in the cracked screen of his laptop, thick fingers scuttling excitedly over the keyboard. She locked her teeth together as she watched the hunch of his broad shoulders, the spastic silhouette of the unruly brown hair she had inherited, and the stained pajama shirt covered in famous Shakespearean insults. Most of the time, seeing his figure against the light of the afternoon window stirred a chuckle in her chest, and a sentimental smile to the corners of her lips. Now, however, with the after image of the Transfer Student From Hell still whirling through her mind, his eccentric form only made her want to chuck his crippled laptop and scream for his attention.

"Dad!" she hollered again, racing up behind him and planting her mouth right behind his good ear. "DAD!"

He jumped like she had physically assaulted him. "What?" His glasses slipped down the slope of his nose as he glanced over his shoulder. "Oh, Gracie. What's wrong? You could wake the dead with a voice like that."

She bared her teeth and made choking motions with her hands. "Fllflflflflfll-!"

He stared a moment before smiling widely. "The transfer student again?"

It was a good thing he knew her so well. "I want to murder him!" She screamed, and locked her hands around his imaginary throat. "I'm—I'm going to find out where he lives, crawl into his bedroom at night, and yank out his liver through his ear! I swear, Dad, one more day of this and either he's going out the second story window, or I am!"

Why did he always have such a calm reaction to her infuriated rants? He pushed his glasses back into position, turned a little, and motioned to the chair on the other side of the round table. Grace rubbed her bottom teeth to her top ones, imagining she was chewing on the stupid Jap's head, and sat down.

Her dad, kind man that he was, finally decided to focus his full attention on her. He closed his laptop and folded his large hands, nodding to her to continue.

She blew out a large puff of air. "I'm going to kill him. He's even making me racist, Dad! All I think when I see him is, GO HOME! No one wants you here!"

Grace frowned as she watched her dad assume Responsible Wise Old Man Character mode. "No one can make you do anything, Gracie. It's all a matter of choice. You are letting yourself feel racist towards him because he's difficult. You have to take responsibility for it."

He sounded like Gandalf, or Dumbledore. Grace frowned. Mental note, lull dad away from his current RPG project before seeking more sympathetic advice.

"Now," He continued, still looking like a more modern, shaved, game-designer version of Gandalf. "What exactly has he done this time?"

"This time?" Grace guffawed. As if everything up until now hadn't been enough—oh! But this time, she could get him for it. He's crossed a line, this time. "Complete truth, dad, promise. He kegged me. In the middle of class!"

She nearly dropped her head on the cheap table top as her dad's brows furrowed. "Kegged? As in, beer?"

"He pulled down my flibbin' pants!" She rephrased, her fists making the table quake. Her dad rested a hand over the precious, dilapidated laptop.

"He pulled them down?" His brows were still furrowed.

"Yes!" She cried. "In the middle of History! Complete sexual harassment, dad. I swear, this time I'm reporting him!" Oh, she could just taste how great a punishment he was going to get. And it would be wonderful—so deliciously, satisfyingly, vengefully wonderful.

Dad pulled a glass of chocolate milk toward him, and pulled on a bendy straw with his lips. Grace tapped her fingers, frowning through irate huffs, as she watched the pale brown liquid race up the small pipe. Why was it he couldn't ever seem to think without eating? He could go days without consuming hardly anything but a can of root beer and a single bag of cheez-puffs when he was working on charcter designs and emailing the coders, but the moment she posed him a question or problem in the real world, he had to consult the almighty reservoir of wisdom known as CHOCOLATE MILK.

He drained half the glass in thought. Grace was ready to explode and take half the city with her.

"Are you sure that's wise?" He finally said, licking his lips.

She gaped. "What? Dad, seriously? You're not pe-o'd that he pulled down my pants in the middle of class? What kind of dad are you?" She spluttered, but even in posing the question, she knew the answer. Her dad kept a beat-up old laptop because her mom had named it Larry, sat at the kitchen table drinking chocolate milk when he thought about life, and slept, more often than not, on the couch just in the other room to the restful lullaby of Star Trek: The Next Generation.

He smiled at her in answer. She sighed with a nod.

"Yeah, yeah." She thrust her bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. "So what would Dumbledore say?"

He raised his glass. "Let the hawk perch and let the eagle perch."

She paused. "Dumbledore totally wouldn't have said that."

He grinned and offered her the glass. "Right! But Achebe said it, and he was right."

She rubbed her forehead. "You want me to live and let live? Let him just keg me in the middle of class?"

"Heavens no." Her dad laughed. She stared at him through her fingers, gray eyes wide and frustrated. "I want you to take care of things yourself. You're a bird of prey, Gracie. Figure out how to take on a fellow bird of prey."

She sighed. "I'm pretty sure that's not what that proverb meant."

"Perspective, sweetheart."

Grace took the chocolate milk, stood, and meandered out of the kitchen into the living room. The couch was soft and swallowed her like a hungry monster as she sat on its raspberry colored girth. The milk slid down her parched throat, and, in the tradition of her father, she stopped to consider life.

Bird of prey, huh? She pondered. Well, she liked the sound of that. And Yusuke Urameshi sure seemed like he thought of himself as a predator too. She bet he thought he was the eagle, for that matter. Her teeth bit down on the straw as she smirked to herself. Oh, an eagle was he? She grinned at the flat, black face of the TV propped in front of her.

"Bald eagles are endangered here in the United States, Mr. Urameshi." She stirred the shallow puddle of chocolate milk left with the maimed straw. "And I'm about to make them extinct."

O.O.O.O

Of course, Grace was a lot of talk and she knew it. She loved to talk smack. It made people laugh, and she liked to see people happy. However, she never liked to say something aloud that she didn't think she could truly back up, if push came to shove. This time was no different.

As she loaded up for school the next day, her legs shook under the weight of both her backpack, and her decision. Standing up to transfer student Yusuke Urameshi probably wasn't the brightest idea she had ever had.

Still, she didn't want yet another class to find out she wore Disney princess underwear. She couldn't help her nostalgic love for Disney classics. Liking happy endings wasn't a crime!

She shook her head as she opened the front door. The crisp morning wind blew past her cheeks, and she threw her head back to look at the high ceiling.

"See you later dad! If I'm not back by four please assume that Yusuke Urameshi has beaten me to a pulp in an alleyway somewhere and that I'm probably on the verge of death!" her voice danced through the house.

"Uh-huh." Came her dad's concerned reply.

She stared at the ceiling for another moment, rolling her eyes at it in substitute for her dad, and rushed outside for the bus. The bus driver eyed her warily as she stumbled up the steps, dizzied with thoughts of yelling at Yusuke, but she ignored him. She could already see his brown eyes narrow, those shadows fall over his expression. She wheezed as she sat down on the worn seat, knees knocking like a sissy's.

It took barely ten minutes for Jasper High, home of the (mediocre) Red Demons, to scroll into her window. She clasped the straps of her backpack, biting her bottom lip like it was the enemy, and leaned with the inertia of the bus as it parked in front of the two-storied, red and yellow bricked building.

"Hey, Grace," A voice prodded at the side of her head. "Earth to Grace! Hello . . . !"

She forced her head to move sideways. Annie, her red-headed best friend, was grinning and blocking the walkway. Kids grumbled at the back of her flame-colored braid, but she had her ankles locked against the side of the seats with determination.

"Holding up traffic? For me?" Grace pressed a flattered hand to her chest and slid into the aisle, resuming the flow and allowing for a great collection of sighs. "You're the best."

Annie laughed. "'Course I am." Her smile stretched up into her brown eyes.

The next moment they were on the sidewalk, rushing into the crowd with a current of frustrated kids pressing them forward. For a moment Grace fought. Then, with a gut-wrenching picture of Yusuke sliding into her mind, her fight fell away and she strayed aimlessly with the crowd, her face twisted in horror as she imagined her head getting busted in.

Grace managed to grab onto her locker through the crowd and her own haze, and pulled out of the current. Her fingers twisted the combination without her knowledge, and she robotically gathered her books.

"I'd say you look out of sorts, but I think that's kind of an understatement." Annie appeared beside her locker, arms folded around a thick wad of sheet music. She was the leading soprano in the Senior Advanced Choir.

Grace peered over her biology textbook with watery puppy eyes. "I'm making a big decision. And I think it's going to get my face flattened."

Annie winced. "Please tell me you're not going to call that Yusuke guy out on his huge jerkitude."

She paused. Squinted. Nodded.

Annie face-palmed. "Grace! Why? Just go the Principal. Mr. Malone needs something to do—a sexual assault charge should keep him busy, get the moron off your back, and preserve your precious little face! See? Everyone wins."

Grace pulled herself up a little. Annie was probably right. But she had said it aloud—she couldn't go back on it now. "Annie, I . . . am a hawk!" She dropped her fist on the top of her biology book.

Annie closed her eyes like she was enduring physical pain. "You've been listening to your dad again, haven't you?"

"Yes I have!" She declared, and strutted into the stream of people. Annie ran to catch up. "And I am going to show that stupid Jap who rules the skies, and how bald eagles are almost extinct!"

Grace didn't have to look to know Annie was rubbing her small forehead. After ten years of best-friendship, three day long sleep overs, and a mill of typical school drama, she could go blind and still know exactly what face the red-head was pulling.

"Sometimes I wonder how qualified your dad's advice is. You know what, actually, I do know how qualified your dad's advice is. And you know what else? I think you should probably stick to listening to me."

Grace waved her hand to dispel her concern. "Just because you're right doesn't mean I'll listen, silly billy."

"Ugh." Probably an eye-twitch there. "Fine. Just keep your cellphone on so I can come drive you to the hospital when you're mangled in an alley."

Grace pictured herself lying on the ground, ugly auburn hair matted with blood and her face looking like Kirsten Stewart's in that one vampire movie. She blew out her cheeks like a blowfish and said nothing. She was a total idiot. Why did she make decisions like this?

I am a hawk, she told herself firmly. I am a bird of prey.

The bell for first period rang, and she and Annie bid reluctant farewells before darting off in separate directions. Grace slid into History moments before the last bell chimed, and claimed her alphabetically designated seat. Angeram. First row, second seat—right behind Adams. On the opposite side of the room from that loser Yusuke Urameshi.

He came in late—predictable as ever. She peeked through her curtain of curly hair and found him lounging back in his seat, brown eyes set on the wall behind the teacher, beyond the board, his black brows low and concentrated. What the heck did he concentrate on, anyway? He never answered when the teacher asked him a question. And his grades were poor—she's spotted a red seventy eight painted across the top of his last test. What in the world was he thinking about?

She turned back to the teacher as the scrawny old woman pulled out the projector and began tinkering with the computer. Probably searching for a youtube video that somehow made the Industrial Age interesting.

Suddenly, a large clink smashed against her right temple. The next second she was lying on her back, head throbbing, staring at the ceiling in a mixture of extreme confusion and building rage.

"Oh, Miss Angeram, are you—" Mrs. Scrawny Old Woman began.

"That's it!" Grace launched up, still reeling from the impact, and jabbed a woozy finger toward the lucid shape of that stupid, ridiculous, dangerous, trouble-making, awful, immature, thinks-he's-an-eagle-but-he's-about-to-be-extinct Yusuke Urameshi. "You stupid Jap! Go home!" She stumbled and nearly fell to the ground again. Her voice was still ringing over the students. "You heard me Urameshi, you're a jerk! A huge jerk! Go home and leave me alone! What the heck is your problem, anyway? Why the flub are you picking on me? What the heck did I ever do to you, HUH? Want to start something? Well come at me bro! Bring it on, I'll take you for all you got!" She opened her arms, inviting a fight, and swayed on her feet.

For a second, there was complete silence. Then, as her vision cleared, she found Yusuke's concentrated expression collapse into a grin. It widened and escalated until he threw back his head and laughed like she was the most hilarious spectacle he had ever witnessed.

Her cheeks burned as every other unimportant person picked up on the cue like a herd of mindless sheep and started laughing their heads off. Her head throbbed as she clenched her teeth. Oh? So he wanted to go that route, huh? Make her seem like she was crazy, taking things too seriously? Well fine. She'd be the crazy, over-intense girl. She'd be it and more.

Ignoring the calls of Mrs. Scrawny Old Woman to sit down, she marched down her row and across the room. Yusuke calmed down enough to actually look up, just in time for her downward swing and opened palm.

There was a long pause. Mrs. Scrawny Old Woman was even silenced in the echoing after-math of the loud slap. Yusuke's face was turned from her, but even from the limited perspective Grace could see a red handprint arising across his cheek.

"The hell . . .?" He turned back to look at her.

She was surprised by a lot in the one second break between Mrs. Old Scrawny Woman's reaction, and Yusuke's expression. First, he didn't look upset. His eyebrows were low, but as he touched his cheek, something in his eyes softened. Like he was savoring a memory. What kind of nostalgia could being slapped trigger? She shook her head in disbelief. Second, her hand stung a lot more than she thought it should. She should high-five people more often, get used to the burn. Third, she realized she really was crazy. She thought slapping him would make her feel powerful and hawk-like. But it only made her realize she was an idiot, and that she was probably going to get arrested for assault.

"Miss Angeram!" Mrs. Scrawny Old Woman exclaimed, her voice reaching higher and higher until she sounded like a bird of prey.

Grace's mouth dropped open as Yusuke's cheek grew red and hot, just to look at. "I—I—"

Yusuke's face slowly changed from nostalgic, to annoyed, to bored with just a pinch of irritation. He stuck a finger in his ear and cleaned, staring up at her as his eyebrows took a steep dive in the middle of his forehead.

"You what?" He grumbled. "Geez, work on your swing. That's the lamest slap I've ever gotten.."

She gritted her teeth, the anger drowning out Mrs. Scrawny Old Woman's rising reprimand. "I regret nothing."

Grace forced back shivers as Yusuke pulled out his finger, looked up at her, and smiled. It wasn't a nice smile—not even quite a dark smile. It was far, far more than a dark smile—it was what a dark smile wanted to be when it grew up. It was dangerous; a wild smile pulled through his lips. She could almost feel something clawing up inside him, staring at her through his eyes.

"Yeah." He chuckled wickedly. "Not yet you don't."

She was pretty much ready to pass out.

O.O.O.O

Grace wasn't sure exactly how she wriggled out of an arrest warrant. Maybe it was her running record; no misdemeanors, plenty of community service from volunteering at the library and tutoring for free; that convinced the Principal to actually be a human being and let her off with a warning. She practically melted as she walked out of his office, leaning on the wall for support.

Naturally, Physical Fitness would be her next class. Grace wobbled down the halls toward the gym, her heart slamming and her lungs squeezing together. The halls began to spin around her until she was encased in a melting blob of red and yellow brick. Red Demons. Maybe she was in hell now.

She stumbled until a wall lifted against her back, and her hand, trembling, found its way into her messenger bag. She ripped out her inhaler at the first touch, and took two long, relaxed breaths through the nozzle.

After a minute, she could breathe again. The halls transformed from the fifth ring of hell to the regular old high school hell she knew and—well, knew. Love really didn't come into play here.

Coach Wess turned the moment she opened the doors to the gym. She nearly froze, like a deer in oncoming traffic, before she remembered she had a get out of jail free card—a hall pass—and thereby was untouchable. She held it out as he came over with that hunter's gleam in his eye.

He stood straight and disappointed as he spotted the principal's signature on the piece of paper. He frowned lopsidedly and motioned with his head and a grunt for her to join the line of sprinters.

Why me? Grace drooped as she hurriedly changed and ran for the line. She folded her arms once she was in place, nervously glancing back at her messenger bag where her inhaler lay a disturbing distance away, and moved inch by inch toward the sprinting line.

She hadn't always been scared of sprinting. In fact, she's been on the track team since freshman year. Her heart shot into her throat as she moved up to second in line. She'd never been nervous about running—it used to make her feel free, strong, powerful. As a runner, she'd been unbeatable. She'd been a hawk on the ground.

But ever since—

She closed her eyes and pinched the back of her hand. Now wasn't the time to think about it.

"Angeram!" Coach Wess bellowed.

She shot out instinctually, sprinting across the squeaking gym floor. Her lungs seized halfway across the distance, like a vice in her chest, closing off any hopes of oxygen. Her knees bubbled. Her heart started exploding in her ears. Noises popped behind her eyes.

She collapsed.

When Grace finally came to, school was over. The school nurse hadn't called the hospital and sent her over; she said it was just a small asthma attack. She'd given her a couple puffs of her inhaler, and her breathing steadied. She didn't know why she'd slept so long. The nurse met Grace in the eyes after she finished explaining and waited, as if she'd spill all her thoughts with such a small look. Grace just shrugged, thanked her, and gathered her stuff to go home.

Well, she'd missed the bus. The nurse had offered to call her dad, but she just thanked her and dismissed the idea. Her dad never heard the phone when it rang. He's grown immune to the sound years ago.

As Grace wandered out the front doors and headed in the direction of her suburb, she wondered if that would happen to her one day. Would she grow immune to her fears too?

She decided that today had, just in general, been completely awful. She kicked up rocks with her converse as she walked the memorized streets back to her home. She used to run down these streets. But it had been nearly a year since she'd felt the wind of these alleys tears passed her cheeks, sting her eyes, fill her with power. She frowned as she came up to the Pizza Parlor alley that cut five minutes off her journey home. Power. Yeah, like she'd ever really had that. Maybe she'd never been a hawk after all.

She needed to tell her dad to get better quotes.

Grace stopped as she rounded into the alley way. Two figures were scuffling in the distance. A solemn chill fell down her back like rain, and she shuffled back. Her feet caught in the dirt and held her fast, frozen, as her eyes swarmed over the scene. She focused on the slighter figure as she tried to back away. Her knees locked and her throat clenched as she took in the slicked back black hair and strong shoulders—Yusuke Urameshi.

She bit her bottom lip. She knew he was trouble! He must be some sort of gang banger. How in the world did he manage to get into the exchange student program, anyway?

His hand was posed like he had a gun; she couldn't tell if he did or not from the distance, but she wouldn't be surprised. There was an animal in the back of his eyes at school—he had to let it out somewhere.

Should she call someone? Grace flattened herself against the Pizza Parlor's grimy bricks. That would require a cell phone, which her dad refused to get her on the belief that nothing ever good came from a telephone call. Obviously, he'd overlooked emergencies and 911 when forming that opinion.

"That's it!" Yusuke's rugged yell blew through the alley. "Spirit gun!"

A scream wrenched through her mouth before she knew what was happening. Her eyes seared with pain as blinding light erupted down the alley—did he have a bomb?—and a rush of scratchy heat peeled her hair back from her face. She choked on the crackling smell as it coursed through her nostrils, and slid to the gravel ground as the wind suddenly stopped and left her heart hammering and throat parched.

Her hands were locked tight around the strap of her messenger bag. She swallowed hard, leaned, and peeked around a trash can to see back into the alley. Her legs shook, leaving only her arm for support. She hesitated just before getting full view of the alley. What if there was a dead body? Her eyes widened. If Yusuke found her at the scene, he would kill her, wouldn't he?

Her hand slipped and the next moment her chin collided with the gravel. She swallowed the pain as a lump of hot saliva, and stared in horror at the scene beyond.

Yusuke was turning in her direction, frowning and pulling something out of his pocket. The gun? Another bomb? Her eyes swiveled to the purple puddle slipping through the cracks in the gravel. A wave of nausea rushed over her and made her movements clumsy. She tried to throw herself out of sight, but Yusuke's body turned sharply in her direction, and she knew she'd been seen.

"Hey! Who's there!" His loud, crude yell shot over her head.

Grace swallowed the bile climbing her throat and stumbled upwards until she was standing. She gripped her messenger bag, hand fumbling through it for her inhaler. Yusuke rounded into the gap between the Pizza Parlor and Macy's Makeup Emporium, his dangerous brown eyes widening as he spotted her.

He rested a hand on the belt loop of his jeans. "Well, crap."

Her breath locked in her mouth.

He smacked a hand to his forehead, scratched, and exhaled. "Great, now I'm going to have to call in Hiei or something."

Her heart shot into her throat, breaking the lock on her breathing, and suddenly she was hyperventilating. Hiei? Was that another member of his Japanese gang? Oh no, he was probably going to saw off her head. He really was a mob member. She pulled her inhaler to her lips and sucked in a couple puffs desperately. If things kept going at this rate, she's need a refill in just another hour.

"Hey, relax, okay?" Yusuke's voice lowered to an almost soft pitch. He outstretched his left hand—something was clenched in his right—and moved towards her.

Grace jumped back and pointed at him, her finger wavering. No words came, just gulps of air.

"Listen, Grace or whatever your name is, relax, okay? Let me explain—"

She turned and shot out of the alley.

"Hey! Hey! Get the hell back here!" Yusuke hollered behind her. She kicked up her feet, pressing into the ground with her toes and dashing into the air like she used to on the track. Home—that was the finish line. Only here, now, a trophy wasn't at stake. Now it was her life.

She heard a drumming behind her, and she pressed harder into the ground. Yusuke was tailing her. She knew the feeling of a runner closing in on her. She found a tighter rhythm, a faster one, and threw herself into it.

"Hey! Get back here!" He barked again. "What the hell? Would you just listen?"

Grace nearly screamed as she saw him come up beside her. His teeth were bared; his eyes hot and annoyed. She swallowed the scream with a great inhale and threw her messenger bag off. The additional weight eased, she pulled ahead, clutching her inhaler desperately.

"THE HELL!" Yusuke's voice was beginning to fade. She didn't relax, but pushed harder as she caught the tail end of his next complaint. "What the heck are you, a demon?"

Red demon. Made sense somehow.

Her head scrambled as she pushed harder and harder, sweat plastering over every inch of her skin. Her chest heaved and her legs burned as she left Yusuke behind. The world tilted to the left, to the right—swirled. She panted and worked herself until she could feel her muscles splitting apart. Her legs were begging for mercy. Her lungs were wringing themselves dry. The back of her throat was scorching. The wind tore at the soft skin of her face.

She couldn't stop. Not now.

Her knees groaned and popped as she turned into her neighborhood. She chanced a look over her shoulder. No sign of Yusuke. No sign of those dark eyes or that wicked, mischievous, murderous smile.

She turned into her driveway, her skin suddenly boiling. The wind had raped her skin; she was tingling and sticky. She pushed herself up the porch steps and locked the door behind her. Her heavy breaths echoed in the entryway.

She tried to call for her dad, but her throat was torn in the back by the cold. She stumbled into the living room, found the stairs, and collapsed on them. Her elbows threatened to break as she crawled her way up to the second floor, pulled herself inside her room, kicked the door shut, and lay trembling on the floor.

She closed her eyes. What was she going to do? Call the police, she reasoned. She had witnessed a murder. Would they believe her? Yusuke might clean up the site by the time she did. She needed to call them right away, then. They could protect her from him, right?

A knock rumbled up from downstairs. Grace's eyes shot open.

Slow footsteps. Her dad's. Then the bellowing creak of the front door.

"Hey, does some girl named Grace live here? I need to talk to her."

Grace felt her throat close up as Yusuke's voice invaded her house.

A/N

Well, how's that for a first chapter? I know it's not much of an appearance for the Rekai Tentai, but they're coming, promise :)

Sneak Peak:

"Please," She whispered. Her lungs squeezed with the effort to expel the word. "Please don't."

She tried to figure out what else to say. She couldn't promise not to tell—she already had. And she couldn't play the innocent child card, because really, she wasn't. There was nothing she could do but stare up into the ruby glint above, hoping against hope that somehow the malignant shadow would show mercy.