Disclaimer-No claims have been made. I do not own YYH or its characters. I do own Shuichi (you'll know why if you read).

A/N - Some of you may find parts of this fic humorous. It wasn't meant to be funny. You can take it any way you wish, but I just wanted to say that this is in the POV of an abused teen. It shows how screwed up you get when you're abused. So . . . yeah, just wanted to clear that up. On with the ficage!

Onegai
Chapter 1- The Uncovering

Slowly, I went trudging on departing from my so-called "home". I didn't know where home was, but that house that I had been living in all those years was not a home. It was anything but. My mother had left us long ago for someone she met on the computer. My father refused to talk about her. I only know what I do now from what I have read through his diary. Fortunately, as long as I keep that fact secret, I won't be punished. Being punished can get horrible. Once I stepped out of line and refused to do a chore. I was beaten with a wooden bat until I washed my father's ugly feet. He was not a dad. I had never known a dad . . . I had a father. The only thing I was thankful for from him was that he kept me under a roof. I had clothes–mostly from garbage or thrift stores pitying my rags. I had food–mostly from walking down the street asking for it. I had said many times I would work for a meal. Some people hired me for odd jobs. I was thankful.

I went walking. I walked a lot. Much more than most people. I tried to make it so that I wouldn't need to go to that hell-hole for much. Only for a place to stay at night. I had nowhere to go. I just walked for the sake of getting away.

I had no family, except for my father. I had no friends except for a rock I kept with me at all times. If I got lonely, I would look at it and remember that somewhere down the road of the future, things would get better. It was the only thing I could hold onto. Hope.

I had nothing to say was mine but the tattered and torn clothes on my back--and my rock. This rock . . . most people didn't understand why I kept it. They didn't need to. Nobody was kind enough to just befriend me, so I had a rock. Besides . . . the rock wouldn't betray me, hurt me, or leave me. He was a better friend than most people had, and he also had a name. Shuichi.

I heard that name from a book. I love to read. Reading lets me escape from my known torture. I forget where and when I learned how to read, but I love doing it. The way it lets you get away from whatever's bothering you and go to a world where good things happen to good people and the wicked are always dealt with in a manner they deserve–I liked trying to believe that's how reality was. If I could find a bookstore that wouldn't kick me out because of my appearance, I would sit and read novels until sundown. That's where I went on most of my walks–bookstores.

I found a bookstore one day, and I led myself to a book. It was a Japanese graphic novel. I had heard about them from a magazine I had read often named Shonen Jump. It was named YuYu Hakusho. I had seen it in Shonen Jump before. This was the third volume. I picked it up and leafed through it, stopping on a certain page. There was a young man, maybe 15 or 16, with wild dark hair and beautiful eyes. His name was Minamino Shuichi. I thought Shuichi was such a wonderful name. I had my rock at the time, and it was still in need of a name. That's when he became my Shuichi.

I still went walking, reminiscing about these times–naming Shuichi, reading, doing odd jobs for a meal . . . how I loved home cooked meals! Sometimes, they would even give me a feast! They might have cooked a bird the day before, and I would get some scraps of turkey, a roll, and mashed potatoes. Oh, how scrumptious poultry is! I wish I could find a way to eat like that every day . . .

I was remembering all the good times. It was one of my more gleeful walks. I was enjoying the wind on my face, blowing my hair behind me into a whirlwind. I enjoyed the birds singing their beautiful songs and listening to the cars go by. Most people take this peace for granted. Then, I came to the edge of the woods. I love the woods.

I sat on the edge of where the street ended and the woods began. It was peaceful. The air, the wind, the sounds . . . the lake nearby, you could hear the waves crashing against the gravel beach. You could feel the presence of the happy sprites of the wood, frolicking and whatnot, having all sorts of fun! It was so peaceful.

I sat with my legs crossed over one another, feeling the serenity of the forest and loving it. I liked to sit and come to peace. It was something I could do anywhere and it would take my mind off anything I was worried about. I think there's a name for it . . . I can't remember what it is. I don't really care what it's called, as long as I can sit and smile with peace in my heart.

I felt something different, then. Pain. I had felt it before. I opened my eyes, not realizing why or when I had closed them, and looked around. I saw nothing from my seated position. Deciding to get a better idea of my surroundings, I stood up and turned in all directions. Still, I saw nothing. I sat back down in a haze, not understanding what was going on. I closed my eyes, trying to feel at peace again. I couldn't. The feeling of this pain was too strong. I reopened my eyes and sat, thinking and staring into the abysmal sky. I heard it, sharp and cruel resounding throughout my ears.

A scream. From my left side. I looked in the direction and saw nothing, but the pain was getting stronger. Someone was yelling for help. The sound was faint, but it echoed in my ears. It hurt me. It hurt me so badly. I was feeling the pain as well. I quickly stood up and ran in the direction, not knowing anything else to do.

The wind moaned. This wind that was so passive before was calling for me to ignore this exclamation. I couldn't. I couldn't because it was so close. I felt as if I knew this yell. I felt that whoever was feeling this way was close to me somehow. I didn't understand it. All I knew was that my gut was telling me to help whoever it was that was in trouble.

Another shrill cry rang in my ears, this time closer. It was fading. The energy in the person making these helpless screams was fading. I had to be quick. Sprinting, I jumped over a log that lay rotting on the woodland floor. I stopped for a moment, realizing what I had just leaped over, wondering where I was. While following the voice of the torment, I had paid no attention to the direction I was heading. I was deep in the heart of the forest, most likely lost. I wondered what to do. Nothing came to me. Then, I heard a sob, like that from someone who was about to let go. I started sprinting again.

There he was all of a sudden. A silhouette in front of me, shaped familiarly. I stopped. His jade eyes pierced my heart as I watched the crimson river flow down his face and body to the ground, it being the same color as his hair. Thin but toned with muscle, he let out a small smile. I didn't know what to do.

"Shuichi . . . " I grabbed the rock in my pocket for comfort, looking straight into his emerald chasms.

His smile was wiped off his face as the life in his eyes left them. I ran to him. I heard one word.

"Onegai . . . " left his mouth as I caught him in my arms. He had fallen. I started to weep. I wept for this complete stranger. I wept because he was one of the only people to ever throw a smile my way. He lay there in my arms as I kept bawling. Then, I felt something cold touch my cheek. I opened my eyes to see him smiling at me again. This boy . . . he grabbed my hair and faintly smiled, his eyes having nothing but love in them. I smiled back, tears openly flowing down on my cheeks. He wiped them away with his icy fingers and said something I couldn't understand. Turning his head, he passed out. I stayed there, sitting on the ground with his head on my lap, crying for a reason I didn't know why.

I sat and pondered that word "Onegai". What did it mean? I wondered where I had heard that word before. It hit me like a bag of bricks my father would swing around. The bookstore . . . where I had been reading YuYu Hakusho. There was a series there named Onegai Teacher . . . I had asked someone nearby what that meant. They didn't know. So then I consulted one of the Japanese-to-English dictionaries sitting on a nearby shelf. I looked it up. It had meant Please.

Please what? What do you want from me? I looked at this boy. He looked so innocent. I picked his head off my lap to find my blood-soaked jeans underneath him. He was still bleeding. I had to get him help. How, I didn't know. But I had to find a way to help him. I tried to get him off the ground. I couldn't. He was too big. I couldn't lift him, not like this. But I couldn't leave him either. So there I sat. I sat and cried. I couldn't help.

I sobbed loudly, calling out for help, hoping I was near a campground and someone would hear. Nothing but silence and black came back to me. I had been so wrapped up in this that seeing the black was the only thing that made me realize nightfall had come. I tried to look at the boy. I couldn't see him, but I could feel him. I touched his hair. It was red silk . . . and I let my fingers run through his lovely tresses. Somehow, doing this brought me peace. I then found my hands touching his face. It was so smooth . . . so wonderfully smooth to the touch . . . it was almost inhuman. I felt something that sparked a hope in me–his face was still warm. I placed my hand on his, which lay on his chest, and I could feel the rhythm of his heart and his lungs filling up with and letting out air. He was alive.

I smiled lightly and closed my eyes, still kneeling. I needed some sleep. I had no idea what time it was, but crying made my eyes burn closed. I drifted away . . . to a rude awakening.

I opened my eyes wide. It was still dark, but it seemed that the boy on my lap was . . . glowing. I watched as his eyes remained closed and he radiated the faint light. I could see his hair, red like the cherries I would pick from the trees in spring. I had to touch it . . . and it was still as silky as before. I didn't know what was going on. He just shone, not very brightly, but bright enough to make someone be afraid. But I wasn't. I didn't know exactly what I was feeling, but it wasn't fear. I just watched as the boy illuminated himself in my lap.

I don't know when I feel back asleep or if I was even awake during the night, but I opened my eyes to find that the sun was just beginning to rise over my head. My knees hurt. I had been kneeling the whole night, but something was different. I was still in the forest. I was still lost. There was nothing in my lap.

I looked around, hoping to find that he had just rolled over in his sleep. When I didn't see him anywhere, I got up. It hurt greatly. My knees had gone very stiff and my muscles limp, so I had to push and pull myself to walk until my legs remembered how. I called for the young man whom, the day before, had worried me that he was going to die. I didn't know where he could've gone. Losing that much blood would make you weak for days, maybe weeks. All kinds of thoughts rushed through my mind–he was eaten by wild animals, someone found him and dragged him off, he fell off a nearby cliff . . . I always thought of the worst. I guess it was to prepare myself. Hoping none of my thoughts were correct, I kept wandering around in circles, just calling out. . . no real words, just calling, desiring strongly that he would get the idea and come back to me.

A/N - I hate to end it here like this. . Next chappie should be up sometime soon! . Please be patient with me! Also, review if you would be so kind . . . I will wuffle you if you do! ::wuffles random reviewer::

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