Disclaimer: I don't own YuuYuu Hakusho. Blatant copying and tweaking of Sugisaki Yukiru's Lagoon Engine Vol. 1.

Author's Note(s): Quick drabble. Feedback appreciated.

Begin

(Drabble)

The first time Shuuichi ever received a love letter was when he had been in secondary school. Now, he didn't want to sound like he was bragging when he said this, but he kind of was expecting something like this to happen sooner or later. Youko, on the other hand, could go on about this for hours and hours.

It was fuzzy to say the least, trying to recall that particular memory. Heaven knew how many times he had received love letters and marriage proposals similar to the first one. He wasn't even sure whether or not the memory was accurate. Long story short, he had been taking his books out of his cubby when a pink envelope decorated with hearts—or was it butterflies?—with his name written all over it had fallen out. Curious as to why it was in his locker at the time—shifting his books to one hand—he cautiously bent down and picked up the envelope. Almost instantly, his sensitive nose had caught the overpowering scent of store-bought perfume and a tinge of sweat. It could be that the admirer was nervous when he or she placed the letter inside his cubby. It did not appear dangerous, but he opened the envelope carefully, just in case. Inside there had been a letter of a darker shade of pink and more hearts—or butterflies. Waves of perfume had hit him and for a moment—this, he could quite clearly remember—he felt a sharp pain in his head. However, it subsided and left only a stinging memory.

Written in flowery script, the letter read: Minamino Shuuichi-sama, I humbly confess my undying love for thee and hope for my love to be returned by thee.

Rather than turning fully red, Shuuichi's cheeks had turned the faintest bit of pink. Reading it over once more, the letter had been unceremoniously stuffed back into its matching pink envelope and thrown into the nearest wastebasket, soon to be forgotten.

Needless to say, the letter went unanswered, and more started coming—each of them longer than the other—until Shuuichi lost count. By now, he could probably bet that 1/19th of the city's garbage was composed entirely of love letters, poems, and proposals. It was a great calamity that Shuuichi never realized what a threat he posed to the rainforest. The environmentalists would like their trees back.

End