Adult-FanFiction.org : YuYu Hakusho

Stepfather
By : Artemick
Category: Yuyu Hakusho > Yaoi - Male/Male
Views: 7320 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I make no money. I own no YYH.
Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
“So the honorable Diana of the Dark Tournament has some secrets,” Sensui said, smiling coldly into the lens. “Kurama, stage name Shuichi Minamino, demonstrated something tonight that I think we can all see objectively as quite beautiful. He would whore himself out – that’s an ugly term - what’s a better one? He would trade his flesh for a strategic distraction. Lay and lie like a cocaine buffed newlywed…”
He whistled, lips pursed. His eye flicked straight into the camera.
“Either way, the panicked child has given us all something to think about. I know you’ll pour over this tape like we have. I hope you’ll debate over every whimper and gasp. Because somewhere in there is a little hint from me, where we are, what we’re doing.”
He winked. “Enjoy. We know the fox did. You’re welcome, Kurama. I think we’ll all remember this lesson. You just needed to find that one special person who could knock you on your back, and now you know who you really are.”
Sensui stood up.
“I’ll loop some of the sounds over it as we fade to black,” Taka said.
“That’s why I keep you around!” Sensui guffawed. It echoed. “Your good taste.”

Yuusuke woke up to a VHS on his chest.
“The fuck?” He grabbed it, sitting up.
Two minutes later, he was on the phone with Kurama. “Some psycho made a videotape. It looks like your kitchen; I think it might have been some like, hidden camera in your house. Get over here.”

The man on the tape had eyes that were neither cold nor insane. They were human. That was the worst of it. They were a simple genetic program embodied. They could be found absolutely anywhere. In any face.
I felt sick, but I took my jacket off, trying to trick my body into thinking it was cold, too cold to vomit and lose calories. Winter was easily like this harrowing torture; long, unrelenting, with no room for mistakes. And I could be as much a vicious machine perfected to survive as those eyes.
I leaned towards the television.
“Here, I thought he was my father with a steak knife to my mother’s throat.” I mimed it out, not taking my eyes from the glowing screen. “I imagined he was yelling at me.”
Onscreen, the little figure bowed humbly, shouting an apology.
“And I apologize...” I fast forwarded, watching my back turn onscreen. “He tapes Kurama making dinner. Taped me, I mean.” I adjusted my speech to Yuusuke, so as not to confuse him, but I didn’t think of the person of tape as me. Kurama, yes. But not me.
Kurama cooked. Kurama begged. Kurama obeyed.
Not me. I listened, impartial.
The tape jumped to loud audio, blurred and horrendous, Kurama’s face taking up the whole screen, his eyes huge.
Someone was chuckling. “- Minamino’s a fag!”
Yuusuke yanked the remote and muted it, furious. “I can’t believe that shit dared to try this on us.”
Us, I heard, feeling relief clench warm around my heart. I cleared my throat. “Rewind it.”
“Why even watch it?”
“There’s acres of evidence here. Any information could be useful.”
“Like what?”
“Well…have you noticed I don’t even see the camera? I swear I never heard him say that.”
“Who?”
“I thought it was my step-father, acting psychotic.” I sat back, my fists on my knees. “Can I tell you something, Yuusuke?”
“Anything.”
“I suspected my stepfather of being a far more brutal, undisciplined person. I didn’t realize this wasn’t him for a long time. It’s going to look very stupid on tape.”
“It’s not like you haven’t seen me being stupid,” he chuckled.
“Yuusuke, I was afraid that my step-father would start drinking heavily, threaten my mother, and approach my brother and I. Sexually.”
“That’s awful.”
“That was my fear, Yuusuke.”
“It’s scary.”
“No, Yuusuke. My fear. What I was thinking of when I stepped into the psychic’s territory.”
“Oh. OH.”
“I don’t know how much of my thoughts and choices were influenced by the territory, but I thought – if I seduce him, he will leave my mother alone. So…I did.”
Yuusuke leaned forward and turned off the TV.
There was nothing I could say to explain.
After a moment, he clapped his hand on my back and gave his best grin. “Hey, brother. Don’t worry about it. You…did the best with a bad situation. I get that; I’ve – my mom’s put me in weird situations too – not the same, but I kind of understand how you have to think. You do what’s necessary to get through it. We’re going to slaughter whoever did this to you.”
I smiled. “Thank you.”
“Serious. We’ll cut his balls off.”
I nodded, then tapped my finger on the floor. “I want to ask you something difficult, Yuusuke. Knowing what I just told you, I want you to listen to this tape.”
Yuusuke swallowed. “Are you sure? I mean…it’s personal.”
“I want you to help me look for details about the attacker. And I trust you. You’re a good person, and - you understand that people aren’t perfect.”
“Okay.”
I nodded again, watching him. He seemed ashamed. But I very much needed company for this. I needed him to know the entire story. “We need to look at the video to get any information we can on that voice.”
“We know it’s human,” Yuusuke said. “No demon carries a camcorder.”
“That’s likely.”
“Look, the video’s yours. If you want to watch it, I’ll look with you. I won’t watch it though.” He said “watch” with a funny tone, a second meaning.
I smiled, grateful for the show of respect he was giving me. “Good.”
“Hey, I’m sure any of us would have done the same thing.”
“I hope you never have to.” I turned the tv back on.
Onscreen, the camera passed over Kurama’s head as he knelt and the camera operator sat.
Yuusuke cleared his throat and started in, running commentary on the details of the film. “So Mr. Bad Guy wears Pumas. Styling. And khakis, nice.”
“If he’s holding that camera on his eye,” I said. “He’s about – five six.”
“Maybe a student? Whoa. Not a very polite guy, is he?”
“No, he wasn’t.”
Onscreen, the cameraman was barking laughter.
“I don’t get it.”
“He thought…he has a fantasy that I exchange favors for grades.”
“Huh. So he obviously never had a conversation with you.”
“I think he’s proven I wouldn’t be above it, if I cared about grades, which I don’t. But you’re right. I don’t think we’ve ever spoken. I don’t remember the mannerisms or voice.” I pointed at the screen, where his thighs were visible. “He looks average weight.”
“But he knows you’re in school.”
“I’m wearing a uniform. You could find out I’m a student online. It’d be easy. My name’s on the website.”
“I mean, he’s thought about you in school. Enough for a fantasy. So he might have stalked you at some point, known you in school.”
It was insightful, but unhelpful. “That is a lot of people.”
“You’re that popular?” We both tried to ignore what was onscreen, where I fumbled with his shoelaces.
Yuusuke cleared his throat and said gruffly, “So. I guess we know his shoe size. He isn’t Hatanaka.”
“Obviously and thank heaven,” I said. “That was really disturbing.”
“It’s still really disturbing. This is rape, you know.”
“I’m aware. Not legally.”
“Yes, legally. You’re a minor in the human world.”
“That won’t mean a lot to a psychic who can pull this off. And I think there’s a Romeo and – uh, Mercutio law in this case. If we’re both minors, it doesn’t even count as statutory.”
“Really?”
“Don’t act all interested.”
Yuusuke cleared his throat. “Keiko would never go for it anyway.”
I ignored that and continued talking out my case. I didn’t feel guilty; I was afraid they would blame me though. “I meant that I obviously seduced him. And I never said no – “
“You thought he was going to kill your mother. Come on, man.”
“I’m aware,” I said again, louder. “But I can’t tell a plain human jury that I was hallucinating.”
“You’re such a racist.”
I stared.
“I’m kidding.”
“I’m laughing,” I amended.
After the blow job onscreen finished with the camera operator shouting obscenities, Yuusuke groaned. “That was...not good.”
“You have an erection.” I said, without looking.
“Well, I can’t help that. Oh! See? You had an erection too.”
“That…don’t criticize me for that! I was hypnotized.”
“Right, right,” Yuusuke backed off, biting his tongue.
“What?”
“I’ve used that line before!”
“What? How?”
“I was hyp…it was a joke.”
“I lied before. This isn’t funny.”
“Sorry.”
We watched.
Suddenly, a shadow fell across the screen. A buzzed conversation.
“I don’t remember a second person,” I said, pausing it.
I looked over at Yuusuke, who was rubbing his erection through his pants with the edge of his soda can. “What are you doing!?”
“I’m not thinking about you,” Yuusuke drawled. “I just got to get one out.”
“Ugh.”
“Okay, you’re officially a girl. That’s it.”
My eyebrows drew together in mild frustration. I tried to find words. “Just because – “
“I know, but – look, I’ll stop. It’s just – it’s the sounds, it’s the breathing. The crappy filming. My body thinks I’m watching porn.”
“It was meant to be snuff.”
“Aw, geez.” He groaned, squeezing himself. “Now I’m going to vomit on top with it all.”
I played the video, sighing. “This second guy. An adult male. Wide shoulders, bald. I can’t tell how tall from the shadow, but from the shoulders, I’d guess six eight.”
“Tall.”
“Very.”
It played.
My face haunted the screen. The man leaned down and flicked me between the eyes – and my image was gone.
Yuusuke jumped and cussed.
“Odd.” I said. “I thought he kicked me. Hatanaka, I mean.”
“You thought a lot of things. I can’t believe that. OH – “ he hollered, his hands coming up automatically, then hanging with nowhere to go. He cursed and bellow, “How could you kick someone in the face just like that? What the fuck? ”
“Maybe he knows who I really am.”
Yuusuke glared over, disgusted. “And the real you deserves to get kicked in the face?”
“By certain people. An enemy would be wise to wait kick me in the face until I wasn’t at my full power or able to recognize him.”
“So the face-kicking window is postage stamp size.”
“Yes.”
“You’re actually smart?”
I rewound. “We’re missing conversation. Who’s Sensui?”
“The shadow.”
I watched closely; the violence seemed cartoonish now. It was astonishing, but so much less potent than memory. “He does know me.”
Yuusuke winced and joked hoarsely, with a hearty pat on my shoulder, “Forget them. I’m sure people wouldn’t need a condom to fuck you.”
I was disturbed by that and I shot Yuusuke a judging look. Yuusuke removed his hand and cleared his throat.
“I would prefer they had used a condom.” I stood. “In fact, I need to arrange for a doctor.”
“You didn’t go to the doctor yet? This guy was human, we could have had DNA.”
“I’m not stupid. I took samples, I bought a kit. It’s all done.” Hiei stole me a kit, actually, but I didn't want to explain. The process had made me ill, but it was also calming somehow. Science calmed me. The routine of revenge, justice. “Excuse me.”
I made a phone call to my PCP, sitting on the chair in the kitchen while Yuusuke watched the video. He rewound it when I got back.
“Watch here.”
The camera ducked under the table.
A heavy voice purred: “You think you can straddle worlds like a tourist? Seducing a family in one and playing at a rogue terrorist cop in the other? This is a message to your friends. When I come for you, you’ll be this vulnerable, this pathetic. You thought you were isolated before, in your ugly, meaningless blip of an existence? Now, you will be alone, and die that way-”

"Slow down," Yuusuke drawled. "Let me get a pen."
“Father, please don’t hurt me.” The victim on the screen shouted desperately.
“Kurama, there on the floor. Curled into his shoulders. Legs long and slender as reeds. Soft ass. Little clean white socks like a human child. Stupid little quirks. And finally, broken. Wha-!”
The onscreen Kurama shot up and ran.
“You move fast,” Yuusuke whistled.
“They let me go. I think…the camera worker doesn’t want to kill me, at least not – he doesn’t want to share me in any way with Sensui. Who thought it was below his pay grade to kill me.”
“What does that tell us?”
“Just a piece of the puzzle.”
Onscreen, me with a phone. Dropping the phone. The camera covered my legs, and Yuusuke cleared his throat.
“You need a minute?” I asked, pausing it.
Yuusuke ran to the bathroom.
I sighed, and continued watching the tape. Teenage humans. They were useless.
The camera was jolted, banged around and pointed back up the hall; tucked under the kid’s arm, no doubt. Then at the floor, catching onscreen Kurama’s toes curling as the man ground their hips together. The kid had slipped his Pumas back on, untied.
I couldn’t even remember the smell of the boy’s feet, or whether they were sweaty, or the socks – I remembered Hatanaka’s socks, Hatanaka’s cologne, his alcoholic breath.
I paused it. I didn’t want to watch the next bit alone, or to have Yuusuke be too shocked by the sudden change. This was my opportunity to explain what had happened to me, for one of my best friends watch with me and make my excuses.
Yuusuke came back, flushed and mellow. “I’m really sorry, it’s just – hormones or whatever.”
“I know. It’s not something you can control. Though you should control your fetishes.”
“Fetishes!”
“Seeing people tied up and thrown around. It’s a common fetish for fighters and – “
“Whoa, whoa. That is not my fetish.”
I shrugged and pressed play – I’d just wanted to mess with him, make him feel as uncomfortable as his boners made me. The man tied the onscreen Kurama’s arms. “Oh, he did loosen it. Interesting – merciful.”
“Most rapists know their victim and think they love her. Him, whatever. Keiko volunteers at the Crisis Center, so, you know, I hear about it.”
“I know. I talked to her.”
“Before me?”
“Yes. She’s very calming.”
“Maybe to you.”
I chuckled. “Hey, listen to the tape.”
Onscreen Kurama said, “I know you’re not just Hatanaka. This has to do with Yoko. No…”
“He didn’t like that,” Yuusuke growled. “Oh – not again. You know, I don’t even like watching you guys get hurt in matches. And you, you always scare the fuck out of me."
The screen flickered black.
When it came back, Kurama was weeping like a disaster survivor on the news. “Don’t hurt them. Don’t hurt them…”
Then it cut to a fixed position from the side of the room - the low mantle over the fire, I guessed. “Pause it, Yuusuke. Alright, do you know him?”
“No.”
“Maybe he’ll show his damn face.”
Yuusuke played it. He called out expletives as the guy attacked me onscreen. “Heaven almighty. Do we have to watch this?”
“You do,” I said, looking down. “Please. I-I don’t want to.”
Yuusuke swallowed. “Well, okay.”
“Just…tell me if anything dangerous happens.”
“Fine. He’s not turning…not turning.” Yuusuke flinched at the slap, and only got more ill from there. “This isn’t fair. This isn’t even fighting.”
“Fighting is killing…it’s worse.”
“No, it’s not. It’s fair when you can fight back. Oh, that’s – this is fucking crazy.”
A small, static scream, minimized by the recording quality and the soft room.
“Oh God. Um…he’s…” Yuusuke started to narrate, but he saw that I was watching again.
After a moment, I said, “He keeps commenting on my intelligence. Why?”
“We could check for all the really dumb students.”
“He isn’t stupid. Academically competitive, but unacknowledged maybe. Or anti-intellectual and aggressive.”
“Or quiet.”
“Quiet does not indicate psychosis!”
“It does indicate hiding. Hiding an outside hobby like consorting with psychotics.”
I grinned. I suppose that explained my shyness. “True.”
“What’d he call you?”
“For heaven’s sake, Yuusuke. The German who discovered the theory of relativity? People learn his name on children’s shows.”
“We didn’t have a tv.”
We watched in silence for eight minutes.
I stood up.
“It’s not over.”
“I only wanted to know if I needed to be concerned, and apparently, I do.”
“Just the fact that he was in your house – where is your family?”
“At home. They think I’m at some conference. I warned them that I cut myself running out. Anyway, my stepfather had a car wreck. They’re preoccupied.”
“Shouldn’t you be there with them?”
“All Makai knows that my mother is my weak point. The only reason to hurt that specific human would be to hurt me, so I’ll be notified by the aggressor if she’s in danger, and deal with it from there. My concern actually ensures that she’ll be kept alive.”
Yuusuke indicated the TV. “What were you seeing?”
I stared, remembering the hallucinations, the dream. “My family dismembered me so that they could store me in a doll box and only take me out when they wanted. Then my little brother crawled in, alive, at least more than me by then, and he said he was next.”
Yuusuke gagged. “See a shrink, will you?”
“I suspect it referenced the reality that half of myself was bound, that I am in fact divided, and that my family can only have a relation with some of me, part of the time, and that just isn’t as useful or functional to them as if I were a real person.”
“Really. Cause I think it was a crazy shit psychic territory delusion.”
“The specifics were unique to me. What did he just say?”
We rewound it. The rapist jumped up from fighting with Kurama and shouted.
“That…that was to you, Yuusuke,” I realized.
“To me…oh, the hallucination. Right. It didn’t work; I sort of enjoyed the first one, and the second was the same as what I was trying to do anyway, which was to bring you out.”
The rapist went about quickly, dressing the me onscreen and flinging his bonds away, then shutting off the camera. He looked one last time into the screen and said, "Next time. Bye."
Yuusuke reached over and paused it. “There, that’s his face good and big. We’ll print that out and put it up on wanted posters.”
“We won’t find him.”
“But we might find his mom.”

Yuusuke felt terrible, but he played the tapes back. Not to the more gruesome parts at the end, he watch those again, but to the blow job. It was delicious. And at that point on the tape, Kurama was so conniving that it was easy to imagine he consented, even if he didn’t look to be enjoying it. But porn stars never looked genuinely thrilled and amateurs looked so needy. It was normal not to enjoy giving so much. Kurama’s face looked tense, but normal.
Yuusuke wet his lips and sat back, looking at the door lock again.
He had the sound off, because Kurama was in the other room, on the sofa. Poor guy didn’t much want to be near beds, or tables, or food, or chairs, or floors after all that. He’d fallen asleep literally hugging the Urameshi’s first aid kit, with all the houseplants gathered around him like a tiny leafy moat.
Yuusuke had sat with him for a long time.
He just sat, touching his shoulder once or twice, listening to him talk. Kurama was generally the type to listen, and to see him discuss himself was rare. Yuusuke tried not to seem weird or upset him.
Kurama had talked about odd things he liked. He’d taken the last hour to learn a ton of new things there were being discussed at the conference he was pretending to attend. Something about the chemistry of addiction in neuroscience and behavior.
He used Yuusuke’s mother as a case study to explain it, which was varyingly true, offensive, and hilarious.
Yuusuke didn’t want to hurt him.
Kurama was his friend, for fuck’s sake. He cared about him. To see him get treated like that, even mediated by film, was horrendous. When they were in the Dark Tournament and Kurama was getting slaughtered in his stacked fights, Yuusuke was angry; when he thought Karasu had killed him though, that was when the true guilt set it. Everything up till then had been a game. In that moment, perhaps sparked by Genkai’s apparent death, he’d thought Kurama was truly gone – and that he’d lose each one of his team in succession.
He’d forgotten how failure weakened him. He felt like he was a part of Kurama’s mutilation just by watching that wanna-be art house film. It horrified him.
But the need – he had never thought about Kurama like that, until Karasu’s harassment. And then it had seemed evil.
Now that it happened again, Yuusuke felt lust for the boy must be so common that he had started to pay attention to its roots: that vicious, sweet, sleeping body not ten feet from him. Not only the loyal, ferocious soul that animated it, and the graceful ferocious fighter, but the unique casing: pliable, hot flesh.
Kurama took care of himself. He was not vain, but he was at his prime and only getting stronger - firmer musculature, more defined features, longer legs. He held himself well, with the composure and carriage of an adult.
Yuusuke didn’t want to hurt him.
Fuck, he cursed, he’s in the next room. He’s my friend. He thinks he’s safe with me. He's sleeping knowing I'm on guard!
I’ve got to get this out of my system, Yuusuke justified. If I watch it a few times, I’ll get used to it and bored and I won’t get hard again if he brings it up or wants the rest of the team to see it. Then, I’ll just act cool and help.
He clapped some lotion on his hands and tugged his shorts off. The flicker of the television bathed his body in colored flashes as he stared.
He lined his dick up near the one on the screen, leaning back to get the perspective to match. “Oh yeah. Fuck yes.”
He shut his eyes and just listened, then just watched the lips. He didn’t look at the eyes. That was the best he could do to be respectful. It was his body that wanted to watch this; he didn’t have to let his mind acknowledge what it was or think about what he would say if he got caught.
Some time before the second man appeared, Kurama posed, smiling as brilliantly as a model. He looked like some gaijin fold out. Fun, needless, owned. And Yuusuke’s own need rocketed forward, time compressing to a single moment.
His cum got on the tv. He bent forward quickly, grabbing a tissue. “Shit…”
He fast forwarded, looking for the living room where Kurama was bent over. He would just glance. Just glance.
It wasn’t worth it.
What made porn real was the expression on people’s faces and the sounds and squeals and grunts. The viewer couldn’t feel it, but read it in the sight and sound.
All that was in this video, like Kurama had said, was snuff. It was about death, about almost dying, about being scared to die, about threatening to kill.
He turned it off wanting to crack the tape in half.

Once the tape was off, he could hear moaning from the other room. He pulled his ki up and grabbed the door handle, shook it, then unlocked it and leapt inside. “Kurama?”
The boy sat bolt upright, shouting. The plant around him had grown into a mad, snarling hedge and he was clinging to their branches.
His eyes were so wide the whites were visible all around the iris, and he was staring at the crack of light from the bathroom door, the ceiling, Yuusuke’s face; anything to help him remember where he was.
“Hey man. You’re at my place.”
Kurama sniffed. “You were…taking care of yourself again?”
“Uh – sorry!”
“I…smelled that, it…made me dream that…he was coming back.” He pulled up his knees and wrapped his arms under them, putting his head down. “I’m sorry I yelled. This has been like one long, awful day.”
Yuusuke sat down on the bed. He and his friend sat perfectly still for a moment. Then Kurama lay back down and curled up. He took some pod off one of the plants and cracking it. A haze of glittering spores drifted out. He sniffed at them, and fell asleep again.
Yuusuke left the room, muttering goodnight.
Outside, he pummeled himself in the head. That poor bastard in there, he thought, with no one to touch him, no one to care but us, and we don’t know what to do. I don't know what to do.
He found himself sliding down the closed door, covering his eyes from the mess he’d left.
I’m not strong enough. But I can’t hurt him. I can’t let that happen, not again.
- 5
- 6
- 7
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Stepfather	By : Artemick Category: Yuyu Hakusho > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 7320 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I make no money. I own no YYH.

Stepfather