No Sign of Life

by Mayushii

All copyright materials are property of their respective owners.

A/N: Something I never intended to write, but then realized I had to write in order for the end of Colorblind to make sense. Ended up being a lot darker than I thought it would be. Good thing we have Kuwabara and Botan to brighten things up! :D Anyway, this pares down the first two volumes of the manga to a single "pilot" episode, roughly the length of two normal episodes. It should have four chapters when it's finished. Hopefully I'll be able to lay a solid foundation for the characters without including the drawn-out scenarios of the manga/anime.

-Read all the way to the end of this chapter for a special prize! :D

Prologue

Your world is in danger.

And deep down, in your subconscious, maybe you know it.

How many times have you seen inklings of it on the news? Someone goes missing, and it's a big story at first, but then it quietly fades into the background when there are no new leads. Disappeared without a trace. Or how about the murders, grisly slayings, that somehow never have a culprit? Or worse, when there is a culprit: someone who seemingly went insane, hearing voices, seeing things? How about those "unbelievable" stories that sometimes crop up—that, no matter how hard you try to tell yourself they're just hoaxes, still make you uneasy?

And how about the things you never hear about on the news? For example, just this week, did you know that your planet was on the brink of total destruction? And did you know that, through some form of divine intervention, your planet was saved? You might not have seen it on the news, but deep down, maybe you felt it.

There are things that normal humans can't see, can't hear, can't begin to understand. But sometimes, if you reach deep enough, you can feel it.

Do you feel it?

Congratulations! You Are Deceased!

The morning sun cast Tokyo in a yellow-orange glow, slightly warming the wintry city. Birds chirped softly from the scarce trees, calling out to each other to see if friends had made it through the cold night, while stray dogs and cats snuck out of the trashcans and cardboard boxes they called home. All over the city, kids could be seen on their way to their respective schools: girls and boys sporting tartan skirts, trousers and blazers in the richer uptown, older sailor uniforms in the poorer parts. In one particular middle-class district, students in medium-blue sailor fuku and dark blue gakuran made their way to Sarayashiki Public High School.

Sunlight snuck through a set of orange curtains, a sliver of warmth falling across a television screen.

"Ugh. Every morning…" Atsuko Urameshi reached up to close the curtains and banish that pesky light from her apartment. She picked up the TV remote and pressed the little red button, only to frown and shake it. No response. "Tch, typical." She tossed the remote, walked two meters forward, wiped a coating of dust off the screen, and pushed the button on the front panel.

"—no suspects as of yet, but target areas seem to include Kasanegafuchi and Sarayashiki—"

Atsuko returned to her futon in the middle of the living room, lay on her side, and propped her head up with one hand as she stared vacantly at the morning news.

"—this rash of kidnappings, and we hope that everyone taking their children out in public will keep an extra-close watch on them," the reporter said, finishing up his live coverage just as a soccer ball came flying from the playground behind him and bashed him in the head. The picture hastily cut back to the studio, where the attractive newswoman sat laughing behind her hand. "B-back to you, Miss Natsuya! Owww…"

"Thank you! We'll now bring you the weather! It looks like another day of cloudy gray skies, but don't let that dampen your mood. Today is a great day to catch up on indoor activities…"

Some scuffling sounds from behind her made Atsuko blink lazily.

"What are you doing up?" she asked, without taking her eyes off the television.

In the kitchen, a teenaged boy with his teeth clenched around a slice of bread turned to blink at his mother. The hero of this story? Yeah, right. Yusuke Urameshi might have the youthful good looks you might expect from a hero, with silky black hair and a pair of big amber eyes to boot, but at the moment he was doing his absolute best to erase any appearance of niceness. His hair was slicked back gangster-style, his lips were turned down in a frown, and his big pretty eyes were so devoid of interest you might have thought boredom was a trait he'd inherited directly from Atsuko. He wore the dark blue uniform of Sarayashiki High, the pants slightly baggy while the jacket was cut shorter and tighter than ought to be allowed.

Yusuke closed his eyes and turned his nose up with an unapologetic sniff. Pretending that he hadn't heard the question, he grabbed a cheap plastic mug from the cabinet, filled it with yesterday's cold coffee, shoved the cup in the open microwave and set it for thirty seconds.

"Hey, Yusuke," Atsuko grumbled warningly as the microwave began to drone.

Yusuke finally removed the piece of bread from his mouth and chewed, only to make a face. The bread was older than he'd thought; it was starting to taste like dirt. Oh well, it wasn't like a little mold would kill him.

"Mmph… What do you think I'm doing up?" Yusuke asked. He swallowed. "It's Tuesday."

"What's your point?" Atsuko pressed.

"Gee, Mom, let me think. Where would a school-age boy be going on a Tuesday morning…"

"Oh please. Do you think I was born yesterday?" Atsuko lit a cigarette, took a drag, and then waved her hand dismissively, sending smoke swirling through the air. "That teacher of yours, Takenaka, called me last night. He says you haven't been to school in three days. If you don't do well in school and get yourself a good job, you'll never make anything of yourself. You'll be a waste of air, just like your daddy was." Unaware of Yusuke's souring expression, Atsuko blew some smoke up above her head. "So where are you really going, anyway? Off to some gang meeting? Drugs? Stolen goods? Hmph. I wouldn't be surprised if you're the one behind all those kidnappings…"

Yusuke didn't bother to answer any of her accusations. He simply put on his shoes and picked up his school bag from beside the door.

"Coffee in the microwave is for you," he said. "Later."

Some small shimmer returned to Atsuko's eyes as she finally turned to look at her son. But all she saw was the door as it clicked shut.

Atsuko might have been surprised to hear that her generally truant son had, in fact, gone to school. For some reason—possibly the viewing of late-night infomercials featuring losers who sold useless crap because they didn't have the skillset for a real job—Yusuke had gotten it into his head that he should try a little harder. So he'd washed his uniform last night, woken up early this morning, bathed and groomed himself and everything. Today, he had decided, was the day he'd make an effort.

That plan met its first serious mishap as he approached the gates of Sarayashiki High. Girls cowered when they saw him, and nearby boys walked hurriedly toward the gates in hopes of taking shelter in their classrooms. "It's Urameshi!" "Not him again!" "What's he doing here?" "Hasn't he been expelled yet?" Yusuke pretended not to hear the comments, keeping one hand in his pocket, his eyes closed and his nose in the air until he reached the center of the courtyard. Then he cracked his eyes open, his gaze sliding around the hundred or so kids who were staring at him.

"Hi," he said.

Students squeaked with terror and a few even made a run for the front doors. Yusuke snorted, unamused.

"Jeez. Didn't your mom ever teach you to say 'hello' when someone says 'hi'?"

One of the more popular boys, given a false sense of security by the presence of his entourage, stepped forward. Despite his fear-contorted expression and the drops of nervous sweat dripping down his face, he pointed an aggressive finger at Yusuke.

"W-we don't want any troublemakers in our school!" the boy spoke up. "Why don't you just turn around and go back where you came from?"

His followers all nodded in agreement. Yusuke sent the boy a look that instantly turned him blue.

"Wanna say that again?" Yusuke asked.

"D-don't hurt me!" the boy wailed, hiding behind his group of friends.

Yusuke scoffed in disgust. "Talk about a waste of air. Grow some backbone, will ya? I swear, there are only two kids at this school who can look me in the eye…"

And with that, Yusuke walked toward the school, the sea of students parting to form a clear path nearly seven meters wide. No one dared get any closer than that.

In Yusuke's homeroom, a teacher dug inside the deepest drawer of his desk for some spare markers. A portly, dark blond man in a sensible beige suit, Hideyoshi Takenaka was a senior staff member at Sarayashiki. Having years of experience yet retaining the fairness and dedication that had driven him to become a teacher in the first place, Takenaka happened to be the only adult at the school that could inspire any sort of respect in the rougher students. This meant that all of the thugs were put in his homeroom, since he was the only one who could deal with them effectively.

"Yo, Old Man."

Takenaka blinked and looked up. Speaking of thugs…

"Yusuke, you came!" His surprised and almost pleased expression turned to something a little stricter as he sat upright in his chair. "Hey. Unless I now have permission to call you Yu-Yu-Cakes in class, you still have to call me Mr. Takenaka."

"Yeah, yeah, Takenaka," Yusuke said vaguely, making his way to his desk (while completely ignoring his petrified classmates). He dropped his bag on top of the desk and plopped down in the seat, already looking bored out of his skull.

Well, it's better than Old Man, Takenaka thought, attempting to see the positive side. Not up to where he should be, but he's making progress. I'll make something of him yet. Takenaka raised a pen above the attendance book and marked Yusuke as present for the first time since last week.

A few hours later, the simulated chimes of Big Ben rang through the halls and students pulled out their box lunches, chatting and laughing with each other. Yusuke's desk was noticeably empty; he had left to find some privacy as soon as he'd heard the bell.

The classroom door slid open, and out walked someone with blue-toed uwabaki shoes and clean white socks. A few kids hanging out in the hallway glanced over, shook their heads and pointed upward. The girl passed two of her friends on her way to the stairs. Akemi, the taller girl with blond pigtails, looked like she wanted to reach out and stop her friend, but she didn't have the courage to do more than halfway raise a hand toward her. Natsuko, the shorter girl with dark hair and glasses, looked like she wanted to speak, but all she could do was drop her eyes to the floor and twiddle her fingers. Neither of them was brave enough to say what they thought.

On the rooftop, Yusuke walked up to a wall, turned around and leaned his back against it.

"Damn it," he breathed, sliding down the wall behind him. "What a waste of time…"

There was a loud squeak as someone turned the handle of the rooftop door. Yusuke blinked, his eyes widening and regaining their shine, and looked to see who had come to visit.

Staring right back at him was Keiko Yukimura, first year class representative. Every last inch of her marked her as a goody-goody, from the tips of her toes to the top of her head and everything in between. Her shoes were spotless, her socks scrupulously bleached to the correct shade of white. She wore the customary sailor uniform, the pleated skirt falling just above her knees and the yellow scarf tucked under the collar and tied into a neat knot at the front. Her hair was the worst: nice, shiny, straight brown hair that went down past her shoulders, which Yusuke might have considered pretty if it weren't pulled into loose pigtails by means of two cherry-red ball hairties (the same fashion statement made by preschoolers worldwide).

"Keiko," Yusuke greeted her. "What's up?"

"You tell me," Keiko answered, looking more than a little miffed. "This is the first time in three days that I've seen you in school, and as soon as the bell rings you run out without even saying hi? When did we stop being friends?"

"Figured I should get out of there before someone else started harping on me for disrupting the natural order or whatever." He folded his arms behind his head, looking bored. "Do they have some sort of ban on me now?"

"You'd think so, the way you avoid school these days! Sheesh. I can't believe you got into high school in the first place. You couldn't have passed the entrance exams if you were really this lazy. So? What's gotten into you?"

Yusuke rolled his eyes, coincidentally looking away from her. It wasn't like he could tell her that he'd only studied hard so they could go to high school together… How pathetic would that sound?

"Oh, give me a break Keiko," he said instead. "What's it matter?"

"What does it matter?" Keiko asked, her voice rising in anger and disbelief. "You realize we're only a few weeks into the term and you've already skipped ten days?" She folded her arms crossly. "You won't be able to graduate if you keep this up! What's the point of working to get into high school if you're going to give up halfway through? There's no future for people like that! As if that weren't bad enough, you give our class a horrible attendance average, which gets me in trouble as class representative. Why don't you try thinking of someone other than yourself for a change?" And now Keiko's arms unfolded, one hand going to her hip and the other wagging a finger like a proper mother scolding her misbehaving kid. "I know you aren't as bad as everyone says you are, but sometimes you make me wonder if you really have changed. Are you listen—eh?"

Keiko blinked, finally noticing that she was talking to a wall. Then she felt a cool breeze on the back of her legs.

"I knew it! Your panties are in a twist!" Yusuke remarked, one hand full of pleated blue skirt. His eyes became perverted half-moons as he reached greedily twitching fingers out toward the lacy pink panties. "Let me just help you with that…"

SMACK.

Yusuke went crashing to the ground, an arc of blood trailing after him from his nose.

"Hah! Heck of a punch you got there!" Yusuke commented, grinning broadly as he rubbed his reddened cheek. He turned twinkling eyes up to Keiko, and the grin fell. Keiko was glaring down at him, her hand still stretched out to the side from the backhanded slap. Trembling, her face flushed with humiliation and twisted into an angry sneer, Keiko dropped her hand to her side. She clenched her fists and closed her eyes as she struggled to restrain herself.

"I've tried to be nice," she said softly, her voice shaking slightly. "Since we've been friends for so long, I thought I'd give you the benefit of the doubt…try to help you get back into the swing of things."

Her eyes snapped open, glaring down at Yusuke, who was suddenly looking at her with confusion and surprise.

"But you," her voice started to rise with every word, "are a shameless, worthless piece of GARBAGE, YUSUKE URAMESHI! WHY DON'T YOU JUST GROW UP ALREADY?"

Yusuke stared up at her for another moment, eyes wide open. Then, his expression closed off. He cursed under his breath, looking off to the side. Finally, he rose to his feet and headed for the door, shadows falling over his eyes.

"It was just a joke," Yusuke said dully.

"Well it's not funny."

Yusuke paused at the open door.

"Yeah. I'm starting to get that."

He walked out the door, closing it behind him. Keiko wrapped her arms around herself in a self-hug, staring at the ground in front of her, her face still red with shame and her eyes starting to glisten. She didn't know why she felt so bad about telling him off. Sure, Yusuke had just been joking—the same lame joke he'd been using since second grade—but that didn't excuse what he'd done. Once you reached a certain age, that sort of thing stopped being a prank and started being a serious offense, criminal even. If a stranger had done something like that, Keiko wouldn't have thought twice about having the creep arrested. Honestly, Yusuke had gotten off light…

Stupid, she thought. Whether she meant Yusuke or herself was anyone's guess.

Yusuke was speeding down the hall, intent on getting out of this place as fast as he could, when he bumped into someone coming out of a classroom. He was briefly surprised that he was the one sent stumbling. Normally when he bumped into someone, it was the other guy who ended up on the floor. All the same…

"Jeez, watch where you're going!" Yusuke snarled.

"Urameshi… You came back. And here I thought my prayers had been answered," a low voice said behind him. Yusuke's expression darkened as he glanced over his shoulder. There he was, the biggest asshole of a teacher in the school. Despite the browline glasses that would normally mark Mr. Iwamoto as a wuss, there was a tall and muscled body underneath his ugly green suit. His skin was light brown and his nose was bumpy where it had been broken in the past. No one knew how Iwamoto's nose had come to be that way. One popular theory was that he'd been beaten up by a school bully when he was still just a kid, and this was why he was so tough on problem students. Another, equally popular theory was that his own mother had gotten so sick of him that she'd punched him in the face.

"Iwamoto," Yusuke said, voice guarded. He really didn't want to admit that this guy creeped him out. Yusuke was sure he could beat the hell out of Iwamoto if it came to that, but Iwamoto was a teacher and held a different kind of power. "Don't worry, I was just leaving."

"So soon? History class is right after lunch," Iwamoto said. "We're going to learn about the plagues carried by flea-bitten rats… I'd hate for you to miss that."

Yusuke narrowed his eyes, catching the insult. He kept his mouth shut and his gaze fixed on Iwamoto, but he could hear murmurs behind him. Great, now he had an audience. Just what he needed.

"Listen," Yusuke said slowly, "I don't care if you are a teacher. I'm not gonna just stand here and be insulted."

"No?" Iwamoto spread his hands out to his sides like he was welcoming a hug. "Then why don't you punch me? Hit your way out of this school forever?" He smiled, his eyes thinning with sadistic enjoyment. "It's not like you're meant to be here anyway…"

Yusuke growled ferociously, his hands clenched, his whole body tense and twitching. He could hear the comments whispered behind him. "He's gonna do it!" "Urameshi's really going to hit him…!" "Good, then we'll never have to see him around here again!" "Come on, do it already…!"

Yusuke's face twisted with disgust, and he finally whipped around and stalked away.

"Good boy! You're finally learning your place!" Iwamoto called tauntingly, making the boy break into a run. Yusuke ran right past the classroom Takenaka had just left.

"Ah—hey—Yusuke!" Takenaka called after him. He stared at Yusuke's retreating back, then turned to see what had made the delinquent run. When he saw the crowd dispersing and Iwamoto walking calmly away, he frowned and hurried after the other teacher. "Mr. Iwamoto! What happened here?"

"Hm?" Iwamoto glanced over his shoulder, then shrugged and looked away. "Urameshi was causing trouble. I put a stop to that."

Takenaka's frown deepened.

Damn it, damn it, damn it! I hate this school! I hate this town! Yusuke ran until he was on a street he barely recognized. He stopped in the middle of the road and screamed to anyone who could hear: "DAMN IT! Could this day possibly get any stupider?!"

In answer to his question, three boys wearing Sarayashiki uniforms ran out from their hiding places and surrounded him. One of them, the guy with the shaved head named Sawamura, was carrying a picket sign reading Protect Our Town! Yusuke glared around at them, recognizing the little gang.

"Kuwabara," he said coldly. "I'm only gonna warn you once. Back off or I'm putting you and your buddies in the hospital this time."

"Oh, like I haven't heard that before!"

Yusuke heard a footfall behind him as the gang leader stepped forward. A tall, lean-faced young man, Kazuma Kuwabara looked like he could be in his early twenties. The only thing that might clue you in to his real age (barely two months older than Yusuke) was the Sarayashiki uniform. His hair was dyed a rusty blondish red and styled into an outdated punch-perm, and across his forehead was a long white bandana bearing the slogan Real Men Love Their Town.

"What are you doin' around here, Urameshi? You know this is where the Kasane punks keep tryin' to sneak in. You shouldn't be here unless you're here to help us wipe out the enemy. Ohhh! Are you gonna join my gang?" Kuwabara stroked his chin, the look on his face becoming entirely too pompous. "Heheheh! I got it all figured out now! I know, I know, we're the best, but there's some pretty strict requirements if you wanna be a part of Kuwabara's crew!" He held up a passionate fist, eyes shining as he imagined huge blocks of stone setting down each of his commandments. "First, you gotta get 50 points or higher on every test! Second, community service, at least one hour per week! Third, the new guy has to pay for lunch every Friday until we get a new member!"

One of the boys, Kirishima (who was far too rich and good-looking to be part of a real gang), held up a bicycle horn and squeaked it emphatically. The short chubby boy to Yusuke's right, Okubo, had tears streaming down his face. An imaginary arrow pointing toward him informed Yusuke that this was the new guy, 23 weeks and counting.

Altogether, they were a ridiculous group. And in the face of such absurdity, Yusuke could feel his anger draining away. He wasn't smiling, but he wasn't screaming anymore.

"Those sound like the requirements for an honor society, not a gang," Yusuke spoke up, half to point out the obvious and half in the hope of provoking some more enthusiastic rants. "Why would I wanna join you, anyway? You're just comic relief."

"Comic relief!" Kuwabara yelled with outrage. "I'll have you know we perform a very important function in this community! We keep the streets of Sarayashiki safe for everybody and—and—" Kuwabara pouted, close to tears when he heard Yusuke chuckling softly. "What are you laughing about?!"

Yusuke laughed out loud now, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "Wow… I gotta hand it to you, that does make me feel better. Glad to know there are bigger losers than me around here."

"Hey, who are you calling losers?" demanded Sawamura.

"Oh, sorry, not you." Yusuke waved his hand dismissively and then pointed at Kuwabara. "Just him."

Kuwabara stared at him for a moment, hands twitching violently.

"You—you—" Kuwabara ran forward, his fist raised. "SHUT YOUR FACE!"

Yusuke's eyes gleamed as the bigger delinquent charged toward him. Finally. He stepped slightly to the side, dodging the initial attack, and threw a punch. The force behind Yusuke's fist combined with the force of Kuwabara's charge squashed the poor guy's diaphragm. Yusuke took a sideways step, turning around so he was behind Kuwabara, and cracked the heel of his hand up into Kuwabara's back just below the shoulderblade. There was a collective groan of sympathy from the other boys. More loud, unpleasant smacks and cracks followed, each marked by a flinch from Kuwabara's gang.

"Man, that's brutal," Kirishima said, watching with one eye squinted shut.

"Don't you think we should help him?" Okubo asked Sawamura.

"We can't do that. When it's just a personal fight, Kuwabara doesn't let other people interfere. 'One on one, that's the way real men handle their problems,'" Sawamura explained. "It's part of his code. You break this rule and he'll never forgive you."

"Oh." A bead of sweat rolled down the side of Okubo's face. "Okay…"

Yusuke drew back his fist for one last punch, sinking it into Kuwabara's stomach. This finishing blow hit so hard that Kuwabara was lifted off his feet and sent flying backwards. Watching Kuwabara's pained expression slacken into unconsciousness, something shifted in Yusuke. Whereas before his eyes had the bright, lively shine of a boy having fun with his best friend, now Yusuke's eyes turned dull with the realization that he had just insulted, provoked, and seriously injured a guy he really didn't know well at all. The air stopped flowing through Yusuke's lungs as he watched Kuwabara's fall like it was in slow motion.

What…the hell am I doing? Yusuke thought, a cold shiver starting to creep up through his instinctive detachment.

The body landed, bounced a tiny bit, and finally came to rest on the ground.

"Kuwabara!"

Kirishima, Okubo and Sawamura ran to their leader, crouching down around him. Fast footfalls were heard, and Sawamura stared as Yusuke fled.

"Tch. Now he runs away?" he asked, frowning with disapproval.

"Kuwabara, hey!" Kirishima lightly slapped his leader's cheek until Kuwabara's eyes cracked open. "There you are. Come on, come on, how many fingers do you see?"

"I'm fine," Kuwabara said, pushing Kirishima's hand away (because he refused to admit he was seeing six fingers instead of just two).

"Kuwabara, maybe you should stop going near Urameshi," Okubo suggested.

"No!" The three boys jolted back, surprised by how forcefully their leader spoke and how suddenly he sat up. Kuwabara clenched his fist, his eyes shining with determination. "I'm not gonna give up. No matter how long it takes, someday, I swear…"

But Kuwabara trailed off. It wasn't clear why; maybe he didn't know exactly what he was hoping would come of his encounters with Yusuke Urameshi, or maybe he did know but just couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. Knowing Kuwabara, he was probably convinced that talking about his aspirations would put a jinx on the whole thing.

In Sarayashiki Park, gray clouds rolled ominously over a cozy little playground.

Yusuke watched the peaceful scene from the grass, sitting with his back against a leafless tree that was barely big enough around to support his whole back. He stared, nearly catatonic, at the playground where toddlers happily played with their friends or the adults who were looking after them.

Must be nice, Yusuke thought. He only remembered one time when he had gone to the park as a small boy. Every kid he played with went home after less than an hour, and he would watch them leave with their parents before looking around for his own mother. Of course, she had left hours earlier and wouldn't return until the playground closed at sunset. He remembered his joy at being able to play gradually fading, turning to worry the longer he waited. At the end of the day, the little pigtailed girl he'd made friends with had talked to her mom, and they both sat with him on the bench until Atsuko finally showed up…

Yusuke blinked dully. Was that a real memory? Could he remember things from that long ago, or was it just something he had made up? He didn't know. It felt more like a dream than reality.

After about an hour, Yusuke watched as a young woman, pretty but tired-looking and dressed in a gray tweed business suit, pulled a cellphone out of her pocket.

"Yes? Oh, Mr. Manager—" The woman turned away from the playground, cupping her hand over her ear so she could hear her boss better. "Tonight? Yes, I can do that… Yes…"

Yusuke observed with flat eyes as an overly thin, sunken-eyed couple who had been sitting together on a bench walked onto the playground. They approached the young woman's son with big, friendly smiles and a ball with a cartoon character's face on it. The little boy gasped with delight, reaching out for the toy. The couple, their smiles never leaving their bony faces, gave the ball to the boy. Then the bucktoothed man scooped the little boy up in his arms.

"Let's get you some milk, eh?"

"Muk!" the kid laughed.

The boy's mother, Michiru, laughed gently at her boss's joke.

"Yessir, I'll be sure to do that! Thank you! Goodbye." She turned the phone off, sighing with relief. She turned back toward the playground with a smile ready for her son. Her smile faded slightly when she didn't see him where he had been moments earlier.

"Masaru?" Her eyes skimmed over the playground once, then a second time. There was no familiar brown hair, no eye-catching splash of orange. Michiru's heart leapt into her throat as her eyes darted frantically around the area. "Masaru?! Masaru?!"

Not even a block away, in a dimly-lit little alley, the couple hurriedly pulled off Masaru's overalls and orange shirt and changed him into jeans, a sweatshirt and baseball cap.

"There we go! Something a little less recognizable!" the woman said, still using a warm, kid-friendly tone. Still smiling as her partner crumpled up the boy's more conspicuous clothes and tossed them in the dumpster behind him. "Now, why don't we go home?"

"Huhm?" Masaru asked, eyes wide and curious. "Mo-me?"

"Mm-hmm," the man said. Some of his unpleasant nature leaked into his smile. "Whatever you say."

The woman reached down to take Masaru's hand, but the little boy pulled his hand away, shoving a finger into his mouth to suck on it. The man grabbed the child's wrist, tugging the finger roughly out of his mouth. The boy whined and tried to wriggle away.

"Come on," the man tried to cajole the struggling child. "We're going to take a little trip home—"

A shadow fell across the alleyway, and the couple ignored their crying captive to look.

"Here's what's gonna happen," said the backlit figure in a low, grim voice. "You're gonna get the hell away from that kid. You're gonna come out here. We're all gonna take a little trip," the silhouette removed one hand from his pocket to jerk a thumb over his shoulder, "and I'm gonna turn both you freaks in."

"Hmm? Freaks?" The woman waved her hand dismissively, offering a pursed smile and eyes squinted like a weasel's. "Turn us in? What are you saying?" Her eyes opened just a bit, revealing a sinister gleam. "You wouldn't be a Detective, by any chance?"

"Detective? No." Yusuke's already narrowed eyes turned into slits. "I'm just the guy who's gonna kick your ass."

The woman's face twisted in a sneer. "You have no idea who you're dealing with!"

"Now Risako, don't do anything hasty!" the man warned, but the woman was already running with one hand outstretched. "Damn it…!"

"Don' like ih!" Masaru wailed. He screeched in protest when the man lifted him up under the armpits and stashed him inside the dumpster. "Don' like ih! Don' like ih!"

Yusuke raised his fist to punch the woman, but at the last moment she scurried away—literally. Yusuke stared as the woman, now on hands and knees like some kind of rodent, scampered to the side. She leapt at the wall, bounced off it, and pounced on top of Yusuke.

"What the—get off, you crazy—" Yusuke shoved her away, but she leapt right back on him like a rabid animal. He struck and shoved her away a few times, until finally one blow sent her to the ground headfirst and knocked her senseless. Yusuke was whipping around, turning his attention to his other target, when his eyes snapped wide. His face twitched and his mouth fell open. Looking up in shock, Yusuke saw the man staring down at him, his bony face twisted with loathing.

Then the sharp object buried in Yusuke's abdomen twisted. A gasp for breath and a cry of agony collided somewhere in his throat, and he tasted something salty and metallic. Clenching his teeth was all he could do to keep from screaming.

The man withdrew the sharp object, whatever it had been, and quickly kneeled down. Yusuke watched with wavering vision as the man used his bloodstained hand (where had the knife gone?) to pull the woman's arm over his shoulder. Then he ran.

Yusuke watched them go, concentrating all his effort on staying on his feet. Finally, the sound of someone else screaming came into focus. He staggered toward the dumpster, and still clutching his wound with one hand, lifted up the dumpster lid.

Five minutes later, Michiru was surrounded by other concerned parents. Tears were seeping from her eyes as she buried one hand in her bangs, all the while trying to describe her son to the police on the phone. One of the other parents tapped Michiru on the shoulder, and she turned to look in the direction he pointed out. Her breath caught in her throat.

A young man in a plain high school uniform was slowly trudging toward the playground, carrying Masaru in one arm and holding his other hand over his stomach. Michiru stared at the two of them, frozen in place, barely daring to believe it. The young man finally stopped, half-lowering and half-dropping Masaru to the ground, as if he'd realized at the very last moment that he didn't have the strength to hold him anymore. Masaru ran straight to Michiru, who kneeled down, sobbing as she wrapped him up in a tight hug.

As soon as Masaru was safely in her arms, Michiru looked up at the hero who had saved her child. She didn't know what to say. Fortunately, he knew exactly what he wanted to say.

"Lady…" Yusuke's voice came out quiet and just a little scratchy. The blood he had been trying to hold in finally escaped, tiny flecks of ruby staining his pale lower lip. "I know you're not perfect…but try to keep a closer watch on your kid next time."

His eyes flickered as the world around him turned too bright, the colors muted. His breath left him in a soft groan. And then, as if in slow motion, he tipped forward. Michiru gasped.

"Ma'am? Are you still there? Ma'am?"

Michiru realized that the phone in her hand was still on and raised it to her ear.

"A-ambulance! We need an ambulance…!"

Sirens were blaring minutes later, but by the time the ambulance reached the park, there was nothing to be done. The body on the playground was still, the blood had already stopped flowing from the wound. A deep red halo stained the sand beneath his abdomen, marking the place where the fatal blow had been dealt.

"Jesus—get those kids out of here!" one of the medics yelled, swiping a hand at the parents and their children, who were either staring in incomprehension or starting to cry. The medics ran over, pressing two fingers to a cooling neck to check for a pulse. Hands overlapped, pumping against his chest while a bag valve mask was placed over his face. Michiru hugged Masaru close, tears streaming down her face as she kissed her son's head and rocked gently.

"It's okay, baby," she whispered. "It's okay, shh. It's okay."

On the ground, Yusuke blinked his eyes open just as the mask was removed from his face. He blinked, rolled over onto his stomach, and pushed himself up with his hands. Rising to his feet, he looked around warily. He was the only full-colored thing in the entire scene; everything else seemed washed out.

"Huh. That's different," Yusuke said slowly. "Why's everything so…gray?"

"Spirit awareness," said a female voice behind him. Yusuke turned around, yelped, and leapt backward, staring with wide eyes.

Forget the gray tones—this girl was the most colorful thing he had ever seen. Yusuke's eyes snapped from one place to another, not sure what to focus on. The ornate kimono, a pale pink furisode melting into burgundy at the bottom and painted with pink and white peonies; the gold obi sash with red trim; the cute face with its smiling lips and tiny button nose; the long hair, colored like blue cotton candy, pulled into a ponytail on top of her head; or the big, bright, sparkling purple eyes. Finally, Yusuke managed to take in the whole picture. The girl's hair and sleeves were floating upward, caught on waves of what looked like yellow sunlight emanating from her body.

"What…?" Yusuke asked, still staring. He meant to say what the hell are you, but the words were all scrambled up in his brain. That strange yellow light faded after a moment, and the girl's hair and sleeves drifted down to a normal gravity-complacent state.

"Spirit awareness," the girl repeated helpfully. "That's why everything looks gray to you. You're an entity of pure energy now; you have no physical eyes with which to see. So your perceptions of the world around you rely entirely on spirit energy and your ability to perceive it. Your senses aren't fine-tuned yet, so most things with low energy will look drab, but you should be able to distinguish things with high energy now." The girl's smile stretched and her eyes closed in a way that somehow reminded Yusuke of a cat. "Get it?"

"Get—what?"

The girl laughed, lifted right up off her feet and floated over to him.

"Not too bright, are you?" she teased.

Yusuke realized that he was looking directly into her eyes and skittered backward.

"Jeez! Lady, ever hear of personal space? You know, that five foot bubble around the human body?" he yelped. The girl giggled.

"But I am five feet from your body! See?" She pointed somewhere behind Yusuke. He turned to look.

His heart leapt into his throat.

"Wh—wh—what—" The paramedics were lifting a stretcher into an ambulance, and the person they were carrying looked awfully familiar. A person with slick black hair and a (presumably blue but currently looking gray) school uniform, stained dark in the front. "What the hell is going on here?!" Yusuke bellowed, flying over to the body. Yep, it definitely had his face.

"I'll let you think it over," the girl said cheerfully. "Take all the time you need."

Yusuke thought for a moment, quickly flashing through everything he had done today. Biting into moldy bread. Making the kids at the front gate run for cover. Slouching at his desk. Keiko slapping him. The will to fight leaving his eyes as he watched Kuwabara drop to the ground. Finally he came to the important part: the alleyway, the kid, that creepy couple. The sharp pain in his stomach. The fall…

"I…got stabbed…" Yusuke came back to himself just as the doors to the ambulance slammed shut—coincidentally slamming right through him as if he wasn't even there. The ambulance sped off, and Yusuke stared after it, struggling to comprehend what had just happened.

"But…if that was my body…then that must mean…" He pointed one finger at his own face and turned to look at the girl with disbelief. "Am I a…ghost…?"

"Bingo!"

Yusuke blinked as the girl nearly poked him in the nose, her index and thumb forming an L-shape like a gun. His eyes trailed up the girl's arm until he came to her face, where he was met with a smile.

"Congratulations! Yusuke Urameshi…" The girl winked cutely. "You are deceased!"

End part 1 of 4

A/N: Hooray! That was fun! I greatly enjoyed putting this chapter together, and I hope the rest of you enjoyed reading it. Please leave a review and tell me what you think. :D

SPECIAL PRIZE FOR READERS! OMAKE FOR COLORBLIND! Explanation: Almost all the main characters (even humans like Genkai and Kuwabara) have special rainbow-y hair while all the characters in the background are brunettes. By sheer coincidence, the characters with colorful hair are also people who use energy on some level. Since there is precedent for hair changing colors based on energy levels (Karasu's "jet black to hyperglow blond"), I've decided that all the characters' hair colors change based on their energy levels and the ability of our POV character to perceive energy. If you've been reading "Colorblind" and have been wondering why it was called that, it's actually because I originally intended to explain all this in that story. The scene was supposed to run along these lines:

[Shortly after Kurama and Hiei show up at Maze Castle.]

Yusuke: "Why's everyone dyeing their hair lately?"

Kurama: "What do you mean?"

Yusuke: "You! Your hair is like, bright Hawaiian Punch freakin' red. Not that I don't like it, but whoa."

Kurama: "…You couldn't see it before?"

Yusuke: "Oh, yeah, cause your hair has always been that color." *Kurama raises an eyebrow* "…No way. Your hair was black last time I saw you."

Hiei: "Your spirit awareness was that low?"

Yusuke: "Hey!"

[Insert explanation for why Yusuke saw Kurama's hair as black when anyone with spirit awareness would have been able to see his hair was red. Yusuke, having trained with Genkai, is now able to perceive the energy that changes Kurama's hair red…and Kuwabara's hair orange, but Yusuke obviously wrote that off as a weird dye job until now.]

Yusuke: "Oh. So that's why…" *looking between Kuwabara and Kurama, eyeing their bright shiny hair colors*

Kuwabara: *warily* "…So this is what you talk about when you hang out with your friends, Urameshi?"

End Omake. XP