Adult-FanFiction.org : YuYu Hakusho

To Those Who Wait	By : Ping Category: Yuyu Hakusho > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 2030 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own YuYu Hakusho, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-To Those Who Wait
- 1
Ping- I was originally not planning on posting this, but I figured what
the heck- I got 7 more that are nowhere near ready, so might as well post
this one.

Kuwabara- Finally! Some love for the man!

Yusuke- You see what I have to put up with?

Ping- My first KuwaxYu fic wasn't supposed to be this... well, odd,
but what are ya gonna do?..

Drunky- Ziggy sake, ziggy sake, hoi hoi hoi!

Druggy- Em, I don't think that's quite right.

Drunky- Shut up and roll your doobie.

Pairing: KuwabaraxYusuke

Warnings: Yaoi, Incomplete, AU, OOC, Language, Angst

Disclaimer: Yoshihiro Togashi owns them. I own nothing. I claim nothing.
I weep.

Notes: I am in fact working on a non-AU/OOC KuwaxYu fic. I know this
is bizarre, but I couldn't do a damn thing until I got it out. If I'm as
good as I think I am (and my ego assures me I am) then before too long
this won't be so OOC and there will be lots and lots of romantic lemons.
^_^ I just felt like making them work for it the first time.

::Yusuke and Kuwabara flip the bird::

To Those Who Wait

Chapter 1

'This job sucks.'
"C'mon, fellas, put your *backs* into it!"
'This job really really sucks.'
Kuwabara smiled and nodded at his foreman's sneer as he walked past
before showing his back a rather unpleasant look. He lifted his shovel
and slammed it into the ground hard, mumbling under his breath.
'Long hours, hard work and no respect. Man, it's like junior high all
over again...'
He swiped his gloved wrist across his forehead, drying the sweat that
threatened to blind him. He leaned on the handle, breathing heavy and staring
at the hole he was in.
'Oh, but it's such an important job.' He smirked sardonically, looking
over his shoulder at another large hole being filled with dump trucks full
of dirt. 'Just move that hole over here.' He sighed again. Some lazy, rich
contractor made a mistake in property lines while trying to build a bank,
leaving poor working class slobs like him to fix the mess. The rumble of
cursing finally sparked him from his daze and with another heavy sigh,
he lifted his shovel and let gravity do it's thing, wishing his life had
turned out differently.
This repetitive, backbreaking labor always left him with plenty of time
to daydream. He thought back to his childhood dreams gone by. He wanted
to be an athlete, first, like those popular stars in magazines and on billboards
selling milk or sneakers and other expensive but ultimately mundane items.
Then, after deciding he looked a lot better in person than twenty feet
tall, he wanted to be something smart- like a doctor. The next day he asked
a teacher and found out how long he'd have to stay in school for that to
pan out. That particular goal didn't last long. Then he wanted to make
money, like a business man- sitting in an office in a nice high-rise, with
a fast car and a secretary with perky breasts. Maybe married to an athlete...
a tennis player, maybe. Or a super model or an actress, or some other blindingly
gorgeous woman that his peers would envy. And he'd be so wildly popular
and throw such splendid parties, and he'd have a summer home near the beach
so that when his wife was on tour or on set, he could get away from it
all with his secretary and her perky breasts.
But try as he might, he just wasn't business material. His parents had
faith in him though, setting aside enough money for him to stay in school,
and he made it to high school on some unknown deity's good graces. Unfortunately,
he didn't do well- he tried, but he couldn't make the kind of grades that
lead to a bright future. He only had one year left, and even if he miraculously
turned into a genius overnight, he still wouldn't be able to save his record.
Fighting had a lot to do with his bad reputation, as well. Of course, he
didn't really consider being the number one, baddest punk at school a *bad*
thing. But still...
Seventeen. Single. No money. A mindless job. No perky breasts.
But he had his health, which was good.
He continued to zone out, putting forth the brainless, careless effort
it took to carry out a job like this, until the air grew chill and the
others working around him dispersed, the heavy machinery shutting down.
Kuwabara looked around him at the nearly empty lot, full of only building
materials, mammoth machines and dirt.
And he had never been so depressed in his life.
'My life has just started, and it's already over...' With an angry slam,
he buried his shovel in the dirt and walked away. His thighs ached from
the steep incline of the hole. He took a deep breath when he reached the
top, pulling his gloves off finger by finger, the leather sticking to his
sweaty skin.
"Just once I wish something good would happen to me." He spoke to the
silence as he dusted the bits of debris from his palm. Barely noticing
the sound of something rattling, he looked left, at a CAT, thinking the
engine was only cooling.
Until his shovel slammed into the back of his skull.

~~~~~~~~~~

Kuwabara opened his eyes.
Everything was fuzzy at first, but slowly he could make out acoustical
ceiling tiles and the buzz of halogen lights. He blinked a few more times
before turning his head, making out the light from a window and a green
curtain. Beyond it, the silhouette of someone's foot dangling in traction.
Turning his head the other way with a wince, he saw the doorway just as
a nurse entered, her withered face holding a startling resemblance to a
water buffalo he had seen on a school trip one year.
"I see you're up. Good. When you feel like it you can come up front
and fill out some forms."
Her clipped tone a quick departure left him with the impression that
'when he felt like it' meant 'right damn now.' Mercy forbid he kept her
from her cigarette break. With a groan he sat up, cupping the back of his
head as he swung his feet over the edge of the bed. He stood, stretching
his back and grabbing his jacket, which lay at the foot of his bed.
'I don't remember getting my jacket.'
The thought opened a floodgate of entirely new questions. The nurse
poked her head back in with a glare. "What happened? How did I get here?
How long have I been here?"
The nurse stared at him like he was a fool and left. Kuwabara frowned,
indignant at his treatment. Eventually growing tired of the scenery, Kuwabara
followed, finding her behind a large white counter. He stepped up to the
edge and the nurse thrust a clipboard in his face.
"What's this?"
"Fill these out, please."
Kuwabara sighed and rolled his eyes. He didn't like his job either,
but at least he had the decency to only be rude when no one else was paying
attention. Tokyo was just cram full of unhappy people, he supposed. Finding
an uncomfortable chair he thought more likely to be found in an airport,
he plopped down and stared blankly at the form. He hated filling these
things out. He always wrote something on the wrong line or misspelled something,
and then he felt like an idiot when he had to ask for another one and explain
why he put his birth date where his phone number was supposed to be.
'Name.' Well, he'd be damned if he ever got *that* one wrong.
"You took a good thumping, I'd say." Kuwabara looked over into a smiling
face he found vaguely familiar. "What'd you do, piss off a bulldozer?"
The man laughed long and loud, earning a few irate stares from the staff
as he slapped Kuwabara on the back.
It took his head a moment to clear from the impact, his vision clearing
on the disapproving face of an elderly man holding his full catheter. Wincing
partly from the pain in his head and partly from the usual misguided guilt
he felt when someone else made him into a spectacle, Kuwabara turned back
to his forms. Oh god, there were six of them.
'Name.'
Oh, right. Loud guy at his left.
Kuwabara looked at the expectant man. "Uh..."
"Aoshi."
"Aoshi." As if that explained everything. "What happened?"
Aoshi shrugged, scratching the back of his head. Kuwabara noticed his
muscles under his filthy t-shirt and the calluses on his hands and it clicked-
he'd seen him around the site a few times. "Well... near as I can tell,
someone took a swing at you with a shovel. Pretty good thumping."
"So you said." His head hurt too much to be any more talkative than
that.
"Just found you there this morning. Foreman called an ambulance, asked
me to come witchya, to make sure you didn't die or nothin', and here we
are. But I gotta thank ya- you got us all the day off! Paperwork and safety
inspectors and insurance and all that crap. Too bad you didn't kick the
bucket, eh? We'd have gotten the whole week off!" He burst out laughing
again, giving Kuwabara a few good whacks. Kuwabara didn't particularly
find it very amusing, and at seeing his good humor wasn't spreading, Aoshi
finally calmed down, adopting a serious tone. "So, how you feelin', kid?"
Kuwabara sighed, taking inventory. "Head hurts." He looked down at his
form.
'Name.'
"Ah, well, that's to be expected. The doc said you didn't have a concussion
or anything. Thick skull, I guess." A nudge in the ribs. "You're good to
go, I guess. Get some rest, huh? You look like shit."
'Kuwa-'
"See ya tomorrow!" Witfinafinal slap, Aoshi stood and walked away, eyeing
a few of the more comely nurses as he made for the exit.
"Hm. Tomorrow." Kuwabara returned absently. Just what *had* happened?
He'd been the last one to leave, so there was no one from work around that
would do it- besides, who'd hit a guy with a shovel for no reason? As far
as he knew he hadn't made anybody mad... Well, except at school, of course,
but no one there had the balls to attack him. Unless they knew he wouldn't
know it was them. Which means they wouldn't brag, so they weren't in it
for the rep- revenge, maybe. Perhaps a nerd? But what geeks did he terrorize
that could swing that hard? Or knew where he worked?
He shook his head, deciding to figure it all out later. He cleared his
throat and steadied the board on his lap, ready to get out of there. His
eyes widened as he saw his name trail off into a squiggle after the first
'a'. He sighed and slumped in his seat.
"Nurse... can I get another form?..."

~~~~~~~~~~

Home was definitely more comfortable. It was a mess, but at least it
was familiar and friendly. Eikichi mewed and sidled up to his leg, so he
reached down and picked her up, butting foreheads for a moment. Her whiskers
reminded him of his nurse and he shuddered, glad that he hadn't become
a doctor afterall- he might have had to work beside *that* everyday.
"I'm sorry I didn't come home last night, honey. Are you hungry?"
"Mrow." Eikichi was all forgiveness and fluffy warmth. Kuwabara kissed
her before setting her back down.
After making them both a modest meal he went into the bathroom, stripping
off his clothes along the way. The sweat from a hard day's labor had long
since dried, making his clothes stiff and his skin grungy, not to mention
a poor excuse for a night's sleep- it all added up to one young man who
couldn't have been happier than he was sitting under the forceful spray
of steaming hot water. Not even if he had a super model wife to come home
to.
He figured a wife would be more demanding for an explanation than Eikichi,
and settled on the pleasant thought that she was all the girl he needed.
He paused when he realized the many different ways that sounded wrong.
So instead, as he scrubbed the dirt and sweat from his skin and hair, he
thought on his accident instead. He really couldn't imagine what had happened.
Everyone had to put away their tools when they were done, and he was
the last one there. He remembered slamming his shovel into the ground and
getting ready to leave- a definite no-no, in any case. Maybe his foreman
was hiding somewhere, waiting for him to screw up? Nah, the guy did call
the ambulance afterall. Besides, as much as Kuwabara daydreamed and complained
and made faces, there were at least a dozen employees that Kuwabara could
think of that the guy would want to nail more than him.
So all that left him with was... it was his shovel. Not much help- if
you get hit by a car, you don't give a damn who owns it, you want to know
who was driving the damned thing.
Kuwabara rinsed the suds off, shaking droplets of water from his curly
red hair. "What else..." He asked himself.
Rattling.
The CAT had been rattling. No- on second thought, he imagined it probably
wasn't the machine making the noise- it was new machine and ran smooth
as silk. Was it coming from behind him?
His eyes widened. Maybe he had hit a gas line and the pressure rocketed
the shovel airborne.
'No... They wouldn't have us digging so close to a pipe!'
'Well, then again, they did start building a basement five hundred yards
from where it was supposed to be...'
'My god.' Kuwabara stood, feeling a chill run down his spine as he realized
the possible ramifications. 'I could have died. What-what-what if there
had been... a-a-a spark or something? The whole place could have been blown
sky high! Including me!!'
Dropping the towel in his haste, Kuwabara ran to the phone, pressing
the second number on his speed dial- just under his favorite take-out.
He tapped his foot impatiently while the phone rang on the other end. After
three rings the other side picked up.
"Hello, this is-"
"Hello?" Kuwabara interrupted. "This is Kuwabara Kazuma I was injured
on the Myojin site last night was there a line pressure explosion that
could have killed me?"
"... Sir?" There was a sigh on the other end, followed by some shuffled
papers. Kuwabara was trying to straighten his thoughts out when the other
voice returned. "Ah yes, here it is, Kuwabara. You were apparently attacked
by an unknown assailant. Would you like me to contact the police for you-
do you know who attacked you?"
"What?"
Another sigh. "Would. You. Like. Me-"
Kuwabara shook his head, thoughts too chaotic to even be incensed. This
company seemed to excel at hiring unsatisfied workers. "So... there was
no gas line or anything? Under the new hole?"
Shuffling papers. "Not for another hundred feet, according to our records."
"Oh. Okay, thank you. Sorry." Kuwabara hung up the phone, worrying his
lip between his teeth. So, it was an attack, then. He was laid out by a
coward who wouldn't even meet him face to face. 'Probably some punk trying
to get a reputation for beating me, or to rob me.' Thinking quick, he lunged
for his discarded jeans, finding his wallet. He opened it with a triumphant
cry. 'Yes! I still got my coupon for a free pizza.'
So, he wasn't robbed.
"Wait a minute... They didn't call the cops!? Someone tried to crack
my skull open for no reason and they don't even call the cops!? What if
there's some clues there? Some way to find out who did this to me?"
'They didn't even call Shizuru, for crying out loud! Or they did and
she doesn't care...' That seemed logical, so he let that subject drop,
settling on the detective work instead.
"Mwoar." Eikichi was no help. She lazily rubbed her head against his
hip, trailing the full length of her body along his thigh. Kuwabara looked
down at the long line of brown and black cat hair on his skin.
Aw hell, he could always use another shower...

~~~~~~~~~~

Hands on his hips, Kuwabara surveyed the area where he last remembered
standing. He realized, with some ire, that someone *did* take his gloves.
He stooped, looking around on the ground, but finding nothing. He even
walked far too far away from the scene of the crime to even be logical,
just in the hopes of being lucky- still nothing and darkness was quickly
approaching.
'Now... how did that cop show go?' Kuwabara tried to remember some cheap
American movie about drug dealers and a martial arts police officer he
had seen some while back, but it was a bad film that barely caught his
attention. It was the only thing on and his only chance to watch television
all week- Shizuru was otherwise occupied- but he had fallen asleep halfway
through anyway.
He snapped his fingers, suddenly thinking of something. "Hey, maybe
if I reenact the crime, I'll find something!" He slapped his fist into
his palm. 'Glad to see all those hours of not thinking while I work haven't
impaired my intellect!' He glanced around, finding what he was looking
for and making his way over. His shovel was leaning against the foreman's
trailer and grabbing it, he ran to the hole and slid down.
He walked in increasingly small circles until he found a deep gouge
in the earth that only an angry, bored man could create. He leaned over,
tentatively sniffing. Smelling no fumes- he couldn't be too careful- he
slid the shovel back in it's place, the head disappearing completely beneath
the dark dirt. Turning, he marched up the hill.
"Aw man, my legs always hurt after doing that..." He leaned over, palms
on his knees. Then he heard it. Rattling.
He turned his head in time to see his shovel flying at his head. With
a screech that he would never admit was feminine, Kuwabara covered his
head and hit the dirt, watching with wide eyes as the implement of destruction
was hurled end over end into a pile of rebar, knocking several bundles
over with a deafening clamor, the wooden handle snapping cleanly in two.
Once the blood stopped pounding in his ears and he could hear the silence,
he unclasped his fingers from his hair and rose to his knees. He stared
at the mess for a moment, awed that he had survived a blow like that the
first time, before turning to look down into the hole. There was a faint
blue glow, growing fainter with each passing moment.
Afraid he'd lose track of it if the light went out, Kuwabara half ran,
half skidded to the bottom and sprinted to the source just seconds before
the light died out.
His Uncle Daisan had been able to do some pretty amazing stuff, but
he'd never seen a gas do *that* before.
He hesitantly reached down and touched the ground. Feeling no heat or
sudden stabbing, piercing, life-draining pain, he began to dig, shoveling
dirt away with both hands with increasing fervor. Just when he thought
there was nothing there at all and that his eyes had merely been playing
tricks on him, his finger snagged on a thin band.
He pulled the string out, it snapping into several pieces before he
had it all in his hand. At the end of the rotten leather band was a small
ball. He rubbed it with his fingers, but wound up just rubbing the dirt
around. He spat on the corner of his shirt and rolled the ball around in
it, then held it up toward the moonlight.
A small blue crystal.
"All that... for a marble?" Kuwabara sighed, dropping his hand but not
his gaze. He stared at the moon, marveling at himself. He'd worked himself
up into a fit, trespassed, dug in the dirt on his *own free time*, for
a marble and a piece of rotting cow hide, neither of which could possibly
glow, let alone hurl a shovel a hundred feet. Maybe he did have a concussion
afterall...
With a sigh, he stood, taking one last look at the marble in his hand,
picking the final remains of the thong from his palm and dropping them
to the ground. He cocked his arm and looked left, then right, then hiked
his leg, like he had seen famous ball players do, ready to throw it as
hard as he could into the distance.
"Who's out there, show yourself!!"
A dog barking.
Kuwabara faltered and fell on his face. Looking around frantically,
he clambered to his feet and took off, never slowing or looking back.
Despite the fact he had to take a detour over an eight foot high wall,
he made it to his apartment in record time, panting and sore. He called
out for Eikichi, but she took one baleful look at him from under the couch
and darted from sight.
"Aw come on, I don't look any worse than I did this morning... girls-
you're all alike..."
He hadn't realized he still held the marble until he made it to the
bathroom. He tossed it negligently into the bucket and leaned on the sink.
He stared his mirror image down.
"I look like hell. Hm. Makes sense- I *feel* like hell." He ran a tired
hand down his face. "Am I going mad?" Wasn't there some saying about crazy
people never *thinking* they're crazy? He didn't really remember- Shizuru
said a lot of weird shit when she was drunk.
With a sigh, he peeled off his clothes for the second time that day
and settled himself on the stool. He adjusted the temperature, filling
the bucket first and then dragging the nozzle over himself. Reaching for
the soap, he cleaned himself in silence, eyes shut and head down. He tried
to keep his mind clear of all the noise of his confused thoughts, only
the sound of the water and the smell of soap interrupting his state of
calm.
"Just once... Just once." He opened his eyes, staring sadly at the wall.
He shut off the water and grabbed the bucket, ready to end this not-as-soothing
shower and get some sleep. "Just once I wish something good would happen
to me."
He overturned the bucket and felt the cool water rush over his skin
as his lap was filled with the sudden weight of another person.
- 1
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To Those Who Wait