Disclaimer: I don't own Yuu Yuu Hakusho. Yuu Yuu Hakusho belongs to Yoshihiro Togashi. If I were to own it, this series wouldn't even make it to the first episode because I am just that lazy.
Author's Notes: You could sort of consider this a loose sequel or companion piece to "Envelope." I never really had that many hits before. As always, feedback is very much appreciated, be it review, constructive criticism, or flame. Thanks.
Shuuichi was a very precocious little boy at the tender age of three. While the other toddlers played with their little plushies and toys, Shuuichi was already reading up on the great literatures. Shiori often worried about her son as he was growing up and the fact that he was a genius did not lessen the concern. He always seemed so quiet and so cold to everybody around him, and he never liked interacting with the other children at the park. Though many of her friends repeatedly reassured her it was just a phase that little Shuuichi would grow out of soon, and isn't he getting cuter everyday, Shiori still was unconvinced. A mother should know everything about her son, right?
By the time Shuuichi reached secondary school, Shiori relaxed considerably. Perhaps it really was just a phase that her son was going through. Shuuichi started to talk to his classmates after a while and his report cards kept marveling about his social development, including, of course, his academic level. Shuuichi was often recommended to skip a grade or two, but Shiori repeatedly turned down the suggestion, wanting for her son to enjoy his childhood for as long as he could rather than rush him to adulthood. Naturally, Shiori continued to keep track of everything her son did even then, because really, a mother needs to know.
So when she found three pink and strongly perfume-drenched envelopes addressed to her twelve-year-old son among the usual pile of mail one day, she was duly surprised. Subconsciously suspecting what was enclosed in those envelopes already, Shiori sat down on her couch, took her trusty letter opener and slit open the least perfume-infused envelope—which had glitter all over to make up for the lack of scent. Out fell yet another folded pink-coloured piece of paper and a picture of a girl, presumably the one who wrote the letter. Nose twitching slightly, Shiori picked up the letter and opened it, causing a puff of silver glitter to appear. Silently berating the girl for her excessive use of glitter, she waved it away, and skimmed through the letter. Both eyebrows rose at the end of the letter. She reread the letter more thoroughly this time, silently mouthing the words.
"My dearest Shuuichi,
Long have I watched you from afar as your graceful presence swept into the classrooms, illuminating the darkness there like a candle glowing with radiant brightness—" Here, Shiori stopped and reprimanded the infatuated girl for her redundancy. "—I've dreamt many times of you and your fiery crimson red hair, your sparkling emerald green eyes, and your soft, supple, pliable pink lips on my own. I've dreamt of running my hands through your silky and soft hair as you left butterfly kisses against my neck. I've dreamt of you penetrating—" Shiori abruptly averted her gaze, her mouth agape. Her son, her sweet and innocent little Shuuichi, was part of some girl's sick, unadulterated fantasies. Crumpling the letter up with trembling hands, she placed it beside her on the coffee table in front of her and picked up the second letter.
Quickly ripping the envelope open, she gruffly took the letter out and read it aloud.
Um, my name is Katsuya Toki from Class 5-1. I have blackish-blue hair with purple highlights and amber coloured-eyes that turn red when I'm mad, blue when I'm sad, and green when I'm jealous. I'm actually a half-demon, a cat to be exact, and I was your original lover when you were still Youko Kurama. After you died, I grieved and went to go search for you because I knew you wouldn't die that easily. After hearing that you were still alive from a couple of D-Class demons—which I slaughtered easily—I quickly made my way over to the Human World in hopes of finding you there. Once I enrolled into a school that I heard you apparently went to, I waited for the right moment for when I could finally reveal myself to you—" Obviously this girl was a nutcase who somehow escaped from the psychiatric ward. Her son was not a demon—she'd know.
Shiori placed the letter down next to the first one and eyed the last envelope. It was taunting her: sitting there with its pinkness and cheap store-bought perfume, mocking her and testing her restraint. Praying to any god willing to listen to her for endurance, she picked up the last letter and ripped it open. The letter fell out along with a scrap of paper with a phone number scribbled on it. Shiori glanced the number, and made a mental note to keep that phone number in case this last girl was a stalker of some sort.
The letter read: "Dear little Shuuichi-chan,
You don't know me, but I know you very well. You may call me Seimei-chan. I was wondering if you would like to go on a little play-date with me at the park sometime. Please don't tell your mother; I fear that she would misinterpret this—" Shiori growled, insulted and irritated. "—Please call that number on the paper I've included with this letter. I hope to meet you sometime soon, Shuuichi-chan!"
Shiori shredded the letter before getting a phone. Quickly dialing the number written on the scrap of paper, she waited until the person on the other line picked up.
"Yeah? Hello?" answered a gruff voice. Shiori gaped openly, as the phone slid from her lax grip, and fell onto her lap. That was definitely not a girl. "Hello? Is this a prank call?"
Her precious son, her only son, was the sexual fantasy of some adolescent girl, imagined demon lover of a psychopath, and was, apparently, being stalked by a pedophile with a shota-complex. Shiori closed her mouth, and pressed the OFF button on her phone.
Perhaps it was time for her to give Shuuichi the talk about the birds and the bees, and maybe scar his mind enough that he'd keep away from both genders.
Because really, a mother doesn't let her son go. Ever.
Endnotes: Thank you very much to my beta, KowaretaTsubasa, for being so patient and helping. You rock.