AN: This is a multiple anime fic. But I had a dilemma and didn't know where to put it,so it will be continually category-hopping. There's a different anime for every part, so enjoy!

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All the Lonely People

1: Lucky Streak -Yu Yu Hakusho-

By Soyokaze

I. If the Fates are not smiling, it is because Hades has stolen their souls.

It was so dark. And gloomy. And just not an all around pleasant place. But it seemed to fit the mood for our meeting. It was a rather dark, gloomy, unpleasant thing, the type of thing that makes you look back and think about things you would rather not remember. The remnants of the Tantei speaking for the first time in- oh, how many years has it been? Ten? Fifteen? I can’t even remember. But all I know is this is not going to be pleasant.

I can recognize the surroundings- it’s an old subway, as far as I can see. It’s dark, I can hear metal clanking, rats squeaking, other nondescript noises deep in the shafts and tunnels. The ever-present drip, drip, drip of a leaky pipe somewhere is making me have to pee. Damn, why did I have to suggest this? He told me he never wanted to see me again, and I don’t really want to face him. Of course, Koenma never wanted to see me again, but I still talk to him, no matter how empty and coarse our conversations are.

I can feel the tension in my muscles. My fingers are clenched so tightly together into a fist they’re aching. I’m walking so rigidly I’m almost glad we’re in the dark. I probably look stupider than hell.

Okay. Time to stop and see if he actually came.

“Kurama?” My voice sounded so odd. It was a very soft call, but I knew the youko’s impeccable senses would pick me up. And I was right.

I could hear soft, graceful footsteps. Only Kurama can walk that way. He never could manage to look unattractive, no matter how beat up he got. His hair is still that bright, surreal red, and- oh, Kami-sama, I almost thought he’d gotten it cut, but I can see the long tail of a braid behind his back. And he’s got glasses. But, of course, he looks good in them.

The main thing is an added air of dignity. Not that he wasn’t dignified before, but now he just seems... so much older, even though he barely looks eighteen. A demonic side effect on his ningen body. But no one seems to notice much.

He’s not looking at me, but he’s still scowling. As much as he can scowl, anyway.

“This is not a social call, Yusuke. Just tell me what you want,” he starts the conversation curtly, which is not a good sign. I hadn’t expected him to be waiting with open arms, but I hadn’t expected to be met so harshly. I hadn’t expected him to look so hostilely feral.

“I... Well, damn it, Kurama.”

Smooth, Yusuke. Real smooth.

Kurama was silent, not willing to put forth any effort and initiate anything even remotely resembling civilized conversation. The most he would do, as I stood dumb in my speechlessness, was scowl, green eyes glowing with a golden shine. Or perhaps that was just my imagination.

“Kurama, I-” the youko’s feral gaze was getting to me. As I gathered myself with finality, mental pictures of his actually changing to youko and ripping me to pieces passed unpleasantly through my head. “Listen,” I said, with a force that sounded like authority, but really acted to keep me from shaking, “I came to offer sincere apologies, Kurama. I know you won’t accept them, but- I’m just admitting it was my fault.”

His eyebrows deeply knit in his handsome forehead, as eyes I was still seeing gold in rose to meet mine. “You’re damn right it was your fault.”

His eyes held malice and hate. He made no attempt to hide it. And gold indeed swirled amidst the green, like silk, or sawdust. I had to collect myself again, to hold back a rising anger. I felt it in my throat, like my neck was about to snap of its own accord. “Kurama, I’m asking you to be civil. I’m asking to have a normal conversation with one of my best friends. I haven’t had one of those in a long time.”

“I can think of one reason,” the kitsune replied testily. His ki was spreading thinly about the place. “Because the only one left spends all his time in Ningenkai. Could that be it?”

My fists clenched with embarrassment, anger, and shame. He was insisting on making this as hard as he possibly could. I don’t know. Maybe I should be counting myself lucky that he WAS talking to me.

“Yeah, maybe that’s it,” I admitted bitterly. “But I wish we could still talk. I do. Please Kurama.”

“Maybe I should do you that courtesy.” Feral eyes narrowed. He looked with a hint of pity, or something like it. “Kuwabara won’t even look at you.”

Kuwabara. I could feel my anger rapidly rising. “You had to bring him up, didn’t you?” I muttered the reply through clenched teeth. Between mine and Kuwabara’s tempers, we left on very bad terms. He attempted to be forgiving, but I was a stubborn jackass. I was in shock and acting stupid, and I refused to believe my friends had died at my hand. Just as I refused his request for apology and penance. He just wanted a simple sorry.

And I couldn’t give it to him.

“Yes. As I matter of fact, it was my intent from the moment I agreed to this little reunion.” His gaze left me again. The air trembled as he controlled his ki, which he hadn’t realized was so mismanaged previously. “I had to remind you what a service I’m doing you.”

That hit me. He pushed just the right button. The youko had probably aimed to infuriate me anyway. “Damn it, Kurama! What the hell do you want from me? I come back, begging for a little damn forgiveness, and you shut me out.”

“Where was your begging and pleading when we wanted it, Yusuke? Let me ask you that,” he countered. I heard the rip of fabric as he clenched fists in his pockets. “You were so sure that something had happened, something else had happened.”

I was in shock. I was in shock. That was the story I had used, time and time again, to justify my actions, to myself and others. I wouldn’t use it now.

“Kurama, I don’t- What do you want me to say now? Please, tell me what you want me to say. I’ll say it. Just give me a clue.” I marched up to him expectantly, knowing subconsciously that I was pushing my luck. Somehow, I didn’t care. “Is it sorry? Do you just want a sincere apology? I’ve given you that many times, Kurama. Do I need to get down on my damned knees and sacrifice myself to Enma Daiou? Maybe you’d feel better if I left you all alone in this damned world!”

I’d crossed the line. I’d jumped over it, turned and laughed at it. Kurama ran at me, cat-like, his eyes clearly golden now. He held my arms to the wall with surprising strength for his gentle, fragile appearance, and if I’d been thinking sanely, I’d probably have been scared of his unnaturally violent behavior. The wild gleam in his eyes seemed to increase my boldness, even with the force he pressed on me.

“Hiei died in your damned arms, Yusuke! You never told him sorry.” He was seeing me now. There were no more shadows. His eyes were meeting mine, green to gold. I could see his handsome face entirely, not overcast and heavy like it usually became when I met him. I could see his fury burning like flames in his eyes. “Yukina never even knew he was her brother! She died without ever meeting him as a sibling! And Botan-” I wrenched one of one arms free and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. He let all force from me. Almost went limp.

He smirked in my face.

And me? I was pissed.

“Don’t talk about Botan,” I furied at his smirk. “Don’t even START about Botan.”

“Your luck ran out, didn’t it, Yusuke?” He shouted at me. It echoed thousandfold in the dark, abandoned subway, coming to my ears a million more times. I paused, wide eyes staring into his smartass face and not really seeing him.

My- my luck?

yes yusuke your luck

I heard an echo in my head.

magure?!

Kurama stared back up at me. He wasn’t smiling any more. His eyes had returned to their normal vibrant green. I let go of him quickly, as if he was burning me.

i thought you were a brilliant strategist now i find youre just a lucky fool

I looked up at my companion again. I found myself, unconsciously, echoing his previous smirk.

“A lucky fool,” I whispered into the darkness.

Kurama smirked again. “Koenma didn’t know what he was getting into. He was in love with Botan. Didn’t he tell you that?”

My face fell as I remembered the look on his elegant teenage face when he heard that she was dead. I hadn’t thought ferrygirls could die. But Yusuke, he explained, wasn’t she in her human body? He asked his Tantei almost hopefully, rising from his chair in preparation for the answer. I was forced to tell him yes. And the prince’s heart was broken in two.

We fell silent. Only the echo of memories lingered in the subway now. It was as if the rotten, unforgiving sounds of the night had an inexplicable respect for our mourning. Kurama stood stock still in the dark, and maybe I was doing it too. I couldn’t tell because I could feel my chest rising and falling with my breath. I reached into my pocket fluidly, as if I had never stopped moving. I fiddled around until my fingers met with a small, round, cold object, and pulled it out. The warmth of my fingers did not taint its coldness.

I smiled warmly at Kurama. For these few seconds, he was the old Kurama, the gentle Kurama, the flame-haired, mild-mannered Shuuichi Minamino, the friend I remembered before I destroyed our lives.

I tossed the object to him. He raised one hand, keeping the rest of his body stationary. I don’t think he was doing it on purpose. As the little ball flew through the air, I saw it in slow motion, overlapped by blinding images. Images of my Reigan, of Yukina falling from the sky and Botan racing after her, of Hiei’s last breaths as I held him and begged him not to die. One of his arms was gone, I remember that, partly because of all the blood, but his cloak was still on, despite its rips and tatters, and his katana still in its sheath. He’d never even been given a chance to prepare, even the half-second usually required for his lightning reflexes, for a fight.

He hadn’t even suspected there would be one.

The object landed in the kitsune’s outstretched hand. He clutched for a moment, and then his eyes widened as its iciness pricked his fingers. Quickly and gracefully, he brought it in front of him and looked at it. His other hand came to feel it, to make sure it was real. I saw some tears, saw them in the dim light, and I felt coldness around me as his ki receded.

“Mukuro gave it to me. She said you threw it at her. I thought that you-” a minute hesitation, as I changed my farewell from ‘would want it back.’ I didn’t think that was the reason I came. “-should have it.”

When he raised his tearful face again, he was returning my warm smile.

He took a step back and his face sank into darkness without a sound.

I never saw him again.