Chapter Text
Someone please tell me I’m not losing my mind.
Seriously.
I’ve died before, came back to life, got possessed by demon blood, fought world-ending lunatics, and survived Genkai’s training. You’d think after all that I’d know when something was wrong with me.
Apparently not.
Because for the last few months, something has been bothering me.
Not in a “there’s a demon trying to eat Tokyo” kind of way.
Not in a “Koenma forgot to tell me important information again” kind of way.
Just…
Something.
A feeling.
A question.
An itch in the back of my head that won’t go away no matter how much I ignore it.
Normally I’d ask somebody.
Problem is, my options suck.
Let’s start with Kuwabara.
Actually, no.
Let’s not.
The guy’s been walking around with Yukina’s name practically tattooed across his forehead for years. Every conversation somehow leads back to her.
You could ask him what time it is and somehow he’d answer:
“Yukina-san once told me time is precious.”
Then he’d spend twenty minutes talking about how beautiful her handwriting is.
I wish I was exaggerating.
So no.
Not Kuwabara.
Koenma’s out too.
I could ask him.
Technically.
But that would require willingly spending time with Koenma.
Nobody does that unless they’re getting paid.
Botan?
She’s nice.
I like Botan.
Most of the time.
In very small doses.
The problem with Botan is that asking her one question usually leads to twelve more.
And then somehow she’s talking about things that have absolutely nothing to do with what you asked in the first place.
It’s honestly impressive.
Then there’s Hiei.
I stared at the ceiling for a moment.
Yeah.
No.
Not happening.
There are easier ways to die.
Like jumping into traffic.
Or hugging a volcano.
Or telling Genkai she looks old.
Actually, scratch that.
The volcano’s safer.
I value my life.
Especially now.
Because after years of chasing, arguing, breaking up, getting back together, arguing again, and somehow surviving all of it…
Keiko finally agreed to marry me.
I still don’t know how I pulled that off.
Every morning I wake up expecting her to change her mind.
So far she hasn’t.
Which means I must be doing something right.
Or she hit her head.
Either way, I’m not complaining.
I rolled onto my side and stared out the window.
The answer should have been obvious.
There was one person left.
One person who would probably know.
One person who definitely understood things like this better than I did.
Keiko.
She’s a girl.
Girls are supposed to know these things.
Right?
That’s what everybody says.
Women’s intuition.
Instinct.
Magic.
Whatever.
The point is, she might actually have an answer.
I glanced toward the kitchen.
The dishes weren’t going to wash themselves.
Unfortunately.
Being an adult is the biggest scam I’ve ever discovered.
Nobody tells you that growing up mostly means cleaning things.
You clean dishes.
You clean clothes.
You clean floors.
Then somehow everything is dirty again the next day.
It’s a conspiracy.
I’m convinced.
Still, if I wanted answers, I needed to earn them.
So I finished washing the dishes.
Finished drying them.
Put everything away.
Then wiped my hands on a towel and headed upstairs.
Keiko was probably in her room.
Perfect.
I’d ask one simple question.
Get one simple answer.
And finally stop thinking about this stupid thing that’s been bothering me for months.
Easy.
At least that’s what I thought.
I should’ve known better.
Nothing involving Keiko is ever easy.