Authoress Note: Just to clarify, my female lead doesn't have a penis. In case anyone jumped to that conclusion. And Shuichi isn't actually an alien. Also, apologies in advance if there are any 'Krystals' out there who were offended by my subtle Mary-Sue jab.

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu Yu Hakusho, nor am I making any profit from this, blah blah. The only things I own are my original characters, and I'm doing this because writing pleases me.

Chapter One;

"Family"

POV: Itori

Shin and Maya Nakamura cordially invite you to join them in celebrating their daughter Seira's seventeenth birthday.

The invitation wasn't necessary, and neither was the phony "cordial" tone. Without pretence, the card would have read something like:

Your parents demand you attend your sister's damn birthday dinner, or we won't shut up about it for years.

To the outside world my family was proper and courteous and they had to maintain that appearance at all times, which was reflected even in the gold-trimmed, flimsy piece of white cardboard I'd long since scrunched up and thrown out the car window. I only saw my family three times a year, and even that felt like an eternity in Hell. I had to attend my parents' and younger sister's ridiculously elaborate birthday dinners, even though they never made an attempt to visit me when my special time of the year rolled around, although that was something of a blessing. But I wasn't alone; my older brother, Takeshi, also received the same treatment, though he was more stoic and accepting of the emotional manhandling than I was. He'd been raised to appear serious and professional at all times, but he had a soft spot in his heart for his black sheep of a little sister.

I slumped back against the car seat, rubbing my temples vigorously. Just imagining the faces of my family was giving me a headache. "Are you sure I can't just call in sick? Tell them I have something contagious? Tell them I'm dead?"

My older brother's neutral expression remained unchanged. "No. Just be glad they don't call for us more often."

Takeshi didn't like visiting family any more than I did. He was a very powerful man – and he even owned the apartment building I lived in – but our parents still found something to hold against him, and that was his homosexuality. In their minds they held a firm belief that any same-sex partnership he pursued would not last, that he was only deluding himself, even though he'd been in a committed relationship to the same man for over four years. In a way, he had it rougher. While I subtly got reminded tri-annually that I was a disappointment to the family, our parents would always rip into the person he loved more than life itself. Despite this, he remained ever poised and affable at these gatherings. His unshakeable self-control was what made him an effective business man.

The half-hour drive always felt like a few lousy minutes, and before I knew it Takeshi was pulling his car into the driveway. I stared blankly out the window. The sheer size of our old home reminded me of the life I could have lived, had it not been for my accident. It also reminded me of a time I once thought our manor was the most luxurious thing in the world and that I wanted one just like it for myself, but now I was simply disgusted by it. My family was wealthy and I hated it. I fixed my thick, grey thigh socks before stepping out of the car. Takeshi adjusted his suit tie before ringing the doorbell. The wait on the doorstep was the worst part. We both knew that there was a maid waiting on the other side of the door, but that she'd been instructed to wait a set amount of time before answering.

Three, two, one...

On time, the door swung open to reveal a young, short-haired handmaid. It was a new woman every time we visited, and I swore the outfits were getting smaller by the centimetre. Marital problems, I hoped bitterly. She greeted us with a respectful bow before leading us inside. The other three members of our immediate family were already seated at the dinner table with a plate full of food in front of them. Mother looked up at us and frowned.

"You're late," she said.

We would have been here a minute earlier if your little maid had opened the door when we buzzed, I wanted to say, but held my tongue. "Sorry, mother, it was my fault. My tardiness caused us to hit traffic."

The bitter lilt in my voice hit deaf ears or was ignored, and mother began reprimanding the help for not having us seated already. Only a whole lot of sake could have made the night less painful, but since my sister was not of the drinking age the best thing I could do was sip water in a wine glass and try to trick my body into believing it was something alcoholic or poisonous. I was fairly certain Seira wasn't keen on these family dinners either, but she was always so proper and never complained about anything, which made her the apple of our parents' eyes.

"Seira is doing exceptionally well in her language and literature classes," father said, breaking the silence I was trying desperately to hold on to. "One of her English essays is actually being published overseas."

"Congratulations," I said, trying to sound as genuine and interested as possible. I really didn't care, though.

"And she's found a man," he added with a tiny smirk. "He's a journalist from America."

I could almost feel the cogs in my brain halt for a minute as I tried to process that new information. My seventeen-year-old sister was dating a journalist, possibly a much older man, from America. America. I've hated foreigners with a passion ever since high-school when a blue-eyed, golden-haired brazen hussy transferred from the States and stole my long-term boyfriend from me. The most insulting thing about the incident was that her name was Krystal. With a 'K'. English may not have been my strongest subject in school, but even I knew that was just plain stupid. The whole thing occurred about seven years ago, but I was still a little bitter about it. Takeshi also seemed to be at a loss for words, though for different reasons. It wasn't like our parents to be so accepting or supportive of teenage romances.

"What about you, Itori?" I stiffened when mother narrowed her attention on me. "Have you found a man yet, or are you still sleeping around?"

I almost choked on my water. Mother was once a masterful weaver of condescension disguised as amiability, but old age was making her less elegant. My sex life was also hardly any of her business, nor was it dinner talk. I wanted to reply, but any words that came out of my mouth would only become the shovel that would dig my grave of shame. When she realised I wasn't going to give her a response, she turned her vindictive gaze to Takeshi. Both of us knew what she was going to ask before she even opened her mouth.

"And you, Takeshi? Have you found a nice woman yet?"

She would ask the same question three times a year, and he'd give her the same response as always. "I'm still with Hideo."

Every single time he would give the same answer, and the conversation would dwindle into nothingness. They had never met the man and they most likely never would. I, on the other hand, had. Hideo really was a lovely man, hardly deserving of their vitriol, but he seemed to be the complete opposite of my brother. Where Takeshi was always placid and calculating, Hideo was a little more impulsive and extroverted. However, they'd been madly in love for quite some time. Their relationship was living proof that sometimes opposites really did attract. The conversation eventually sparked back to life when father asked Takeshi about his work and vice versa. I'd been working at a pharmacy for the past two years, and that seemed to really hammer home yet another nail of disappointment into the coffin they'd long since buried the person I was supposed to become.

After poking at my uneaten food with a chopstick long enough, mother ordered that our plates be taken away and dessert was announced to be ready in twenty minutes, giving us time to reconvene in the lounge so we could keep pretending to care about each other. I managed to steal away during one of my father's long-winded speeches about his career and soon found myself standing in my old bedroom again. It almost felt like a shrine dedicated to my old self – the Itori who had a promising future ahead of her.

I used to be one of the best tennis players at school. I was going to pursue sport as my career, which disappointed mother greatly because she'd wanted me to take an interest in something a little more feminine, like art or music. My father, however, was thrilled and he supported me... up until the event that shattered my life. After that, my parents weren't really sure what to do with me. I walked slowly through my old purple room, tracing my fingers along the frame of my bed, the dusty tops of my bookshelves and finally coming to a stop at my trophy cabinet. You weren't a true Nakamura if you didn't have trophies. My awards were all sports-related. They weren't nearly as impressive or numerous as Seira's or even Takeshi's academic awards. Something cold and bitter gripped my heart. Jealousy. I would never amount to anything in the eyes of my family.

"Stop living in the past, dear sister, or you'll never be able to redeem yourself."

The feminine voice jolted me from my thoughts and I spun around to see Seira leaning against my door frame, arms folded loosely. She seemed mildly amused.

"What are you doing here, Seira?" I asked coarsely.

Her mouth turned upwards a little, menacingly. "Every time you're roped back here by our parents you come back to your old room to dwell. It's foolish, really. That's why you don't accomplish anything anymore. That's why I'm better than you."

I frowned. "A person's accomplishments aren't measured by how many trophies they have. I left the family before they could brainwash me into becoming some elitist cretin – I see there's no saving you."

"Those thigh-highs you love so much don't hide your leg very well," she retorted dryly. "It looks chunky. Oh, I think I can see scars."

I could feel my heart suddenly jump into my throat. "Piss off, Seira."

She chuckled at my response and brushed a loose strand of brown hair from her shoulder. "You'll never be the same person you were before the attack, sister. But you know, it's not too late to save yourself from a lifetime of failure. You'll never be at my level, but it's better than filling prescriptions for dying old women."

"I'd choose dying old women over my family any day," I snorted. "They're more respectful than you'll ever be. And they even look better."

There was a malicious glint in Seira's eye. When we lived together we were always squabbling and insulting each other behind our parents' backs. Only it wasn't like a normal sibling rivalry where we swore at each other like sailors and were inseparable the next minute, it was a genuine hatred. The two of us had never co-operated. We hadn't been raised to get along with other people, only be better than them. My sister embraced the lifestyle more than I ever could, and that's why she succeeded me. She didn't have pesky emotions slowing her down like I did.

"I've always wondered..." Seira started slowly before she pulled herself from the doorway and almost danced over to where I stood. "What does it feel like? Does it feel like something is there? Or does it feel empty?"

A bitter smile pulled at my lips. "If you touch my leg, you'll find out how it feels for yourself."

At times it seemed like Seira enjoyed taunting me, trying to bring me close to my snapping point, but she also had her limit. And I'm sure she fancied having an arm, too. Her features lightened. "Dessert will be ready shortly."

"I'm not hungry," I sighed and pushed past Seira. "Takeshi has my present for you. I'll see you in three months. Happy birthday."

I never liked family dinners.

Next chapter: "Saviour"