Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction ❯ Buried But Not Forgotten ❯ Chapter One ( Chapter 1 )

Buried But Not Forgotten

Chapter One

 

 

 

Sunlight filtered through the trees in golden beams, lending a glow to the canopy of leaves. Birds sang joyous songs as they swooped from here to there. The sky was a perfect blue, trafficked by the occasional cloud making its lazy way to an unknown destination.

 

 

It was the perfect day to feel the warmth on your face, allow your lids to drop, and let your consciousness be swept away by the breeze. Especially if one's consciousness has had little opportunity to rest.

 

 

“Shuichi-kun?”

 

 

The red haired young man turned his attention from the window to the girl who stood before him. Wearing the usual crimson uniform required by his school, he recognized her as one of his classmates.

 

 

“Good morning, Asena.”

 

 

She had waist-length blonde hair framing an olive complexion. The Clements family moved to Japan three generations before, explaining the girl's European features but Japanese culture.

 

 

Having been the first in the classroom, Kurama was a little surprised to see that the room was now filled with students. They must have come in while he was daydreaming- if daydreaming was the word. He would blame his fatigue on lack of sleep, but he's had hours. He reasoned that it must be the quality of sleep that mattered, not the quantity, for every morning over the past two weeks he woke as if he's had hardly any sleep.

 

 

And it's starting to show.

 

 

“Are you all right, Shuichi?”

 

 

He knew of the dark circles beginning to form beneath each eye and of the air of fatigue he must be carrying. There are times when he wants nothing more than to rest his head and become oblivious to the world. Of course by now, he knows that any attempt will grant him only a half-sleep, to be awoken by the smallest noise or movement.

 

 

“I am fine. I've simply been studying hard for the mid-terms.”

 

 

It was a lie, but one of little consequence.

 

 

“Of course. You know, Sensei Keruki is going to give us our Foreign Literature project today. I was wondering if you would be my partner?

 

 

She had spoken with confidence that said it didn't matter one way or the other, Kurama noticed, but she was still holding her breath. The class was to pair up over the weekend- a fact that had completely slipped his mind until now.

 

 

“Of course, Asena. Do you know yet, who the writer of our focus will be?”

 

 

Blue eyes closed as she shook her head in a girlish manner. Fifty percent of their grade depended on the completion and presentation of this new project. Ms. Keruki had a pleasantly dark taste in literature. Kurama's last report was on W. W. Jacob's The Monkey's Paw: a classic tale of horror with the message, “be careful what you wish for.” He predicted a look at some of Shakespeare's darker works, or possibly Edgar Allen Poe this time around.

 

 

The students quieted, taking their seats quickly as the teacher walked in. The marvels of an honors class are never-ceasing.

 

 

Ms. Keruki was tall and slim, her lengthy black hair tied behind her head in a bun. Her eyes, a dark brown, were never without sincerity. She was strict with her students, but treated them as people rather than cattle that needed to be herded from one grade to another.

 

 

“Good afternoon, my bright young pupils. I hope you all had a pleasant weekend, because here is the assignment- as promised.”

 

 

She dropped a stack of identically bland folders on her desk in a dramatic gesture, eliciting a few mock moans from the class.

 

 

“We will be taking a journey into the murky depths of Mister Edger Allen Poe.”

 

 

So the kitsune was right.

 

 

“Each pair will be given a piece of Poe's creative genius to read, analyze, annotate, and relate,” She began passing the folders out among the students.

 

 

“I want to see notes and annotations on the work itself, then a three to five page report on the piece including, but not limited to, the influences of the time and setting as well as how it compares to literature today. Don't be afraid to immerse yourself in his world; gain new perceptions of reality, as warped as they may seem. You have the rest of the period to review the procedures and ask what questions you may have. I expect the report on my desk next Thursday, and be ready for the presentations the following day.”

 

 

Asena accepted the beige folder and promptly wrote their names on it. She peeked inside and let out an, “Oooh…I was hoping for this one.”

 

 

She pulled it out to flash her new partner.

 

 

“The Raven.”

 

 

Kurama gave a small nod and took the proffered paper. Remembering his feathered visitor, he should have seen it coming. The mind plays tricks on the weary.

 

 

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

 

By the ring of the last school bell, the once beautiful day had slipped into a dreary grey. Thick clouds blocked the sun, and the wind carried the chill of rain yet to fall. Walking down the steps of the school, Kurama wished he had thought to bring a jacket; the weather man said that there was a 60-80 percent chance of rain all week. Come to think of it, a lot has been slipping from the fox's mind lately.

 

 

“Kar…”

 

 

He looked up to see what was either a crow or a raven- he couldn't tell from the distance. `I should hurry home before it rains,' he thought with a sigh. His eyes were closed in contemplation when he heard the voice.

 

 

“Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door! Quoth the raven, “Nevermore.”

 

 

The redhead turned to see blue eyes sparkling in cheer despite the weather.

 

 

“It's from The Raven, Shuichi. Oh, and looks how gloomy it's gotten. Kind of ominous, don't you think? Sensei Keruki sure has dark tastes.”

 

 

“Indeed.”

 

 

The one word confronted and answered all that Asena had said. Plans were made to continue the discussion, if it could be called as such, in class the next day, and both made their way hurriedly home.

 

 

Shiori, Kurama's human mother, remarried not long ago to a man named Hatakana. Though a little old-fashioned, the kitsune didn't feel strongly about him one way or the other. He was an over all good man, hard working and most importantly, he made his mother happy. Hatakana, or “Otousan,” as his mother wanted him to be called, also had a son a few years younger than his own human form. The boy was Shuuichi, of all names.

 

 

Hatakana was at the dining room table, writing in a journal when Kurama walked in- having barely missed the rain. The noises emitting from the kitchen let him know of his mother's whereabouts.

 

 

“Konnichi wa, mother, otousan.”

 

 

He was halfway up the stairs when his mother popped her head out from around the corner. “Good afternoon, dear. Dinner will be ready soon: we're having beef and vegetable stir-fry. How do you want your meat?”

 

 

“Rare,” he replied without much thought. He gave Shiori a loving smile and continued to his room.

 

 

“Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door-
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door-
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.”

 

 

Kurama had read the poem before, and apparently so had his partner. Surely with their combined efforts, they could finish the project in three or four days.

 

 

His oral reciting was interrupted by his mother calling him down for dinner. He placed the paper on his desk and made his way down the stairs to the dining room.

 

 

“It smells delicious,” he said with a smile to the woman.

 

 

And it certainly did. Taking his seat, he surveyed the set table. A plate of riceballs sat in the middle, the foreign plate a sign that it was a gift from a neighbor, and three plates around the table full of lightly browned vegetables, white rice, and beef still simmering in its juices.

 

 

Hatakana took his seat as well, adding, “I second that. Shuuichi doesn't know what he's missing at that band camp.”

 

 

Shiori sat, smiling and accepting the praise of the two most important men in her life. They talked of many things: Shuuichi's letter from camp, Hatakana's day at work, the weather, and the neighbor's new granddaughter. The food had nearly disappeared before the focus turned to Kurama.

 

 

“So, how was your day, dear? Weren't you getting an assignment today?”

 

 

He nodded, taking the last bite of his rice. “I did. I'm paired with a classmate, Asena, to do a report on The Raven, by Edgar Allen Poe.”

 

 

A hopeful smile- barely noticeable, graced her lips. Kurama could guess the reason, but Hatakana confirmed it.

 

 

“Is she pretty?”

 

 

They had had this conversation before, and to be honest, he could understand where they were coming from. Here was a seventeen year old young man who had excellent grades and, if he did say so himself, fawn-worthy looks. Yet, as far as either of them new, Shuichi had never shown much interest in the opposite sex, let alone have a girlfriend. He was well-aware of the fact that Shori wanted to one day have grandchildren- he's seen the sparkle in her eyes when a baby is brought up to her, and noticed the way she talks about a friend or neighbor who has news of a grandchild. But how does one go about explaining to a mother or seventeen years that her child plans on returning to the demon world not long after her death. The answer: one doesn't.

 

 

“Yes, she's an attractive and intelligent young woman. I also believe that she has a boyfriend.”

 

 

It was only a guess, but it may prevent the repeat-discussion with Hatakana.

 

 

“They tend to do that if you don't make a move.”

 

 

Guess not. It was worth a try. The man had his own ideas of normalcy; boys were expected to do stupid things that got them into trouble- more often than not, to get the favor or attentions of a girl. In private, Shiori suggested the possibility that her son may not prefer women at all. Her new husband didn't approve, but if that turned out to be the case, he's have no other choice but to accept it.

 

 

But Shuichi had never expressed that sort of interest in anyone, and damn if Hatakana's going to give up without a fight.

 

 

“I would be without the treasure of your mother if I hadn't taken the first step and asked her out.” He placed his hand on top of hers in a loving gesture. At this, Kurama was expected to comment.

 

 

“And I'm happy that you did. It can be nothing other than love that the two of you share.”

 

 

“It certainly is.”

 

 

Kurama continued, “Love is not dating a peer simply to achieve the right image.”

 

 

He stood, taking their plates to the sink and started towards the stairs. Hatakana spoke, still sitting. “Love is not leaving your mother in uncertainty when she gave you a family, and all she asks for in return is the same.”

 

 

That was below the belt, and judging by the reprimanding look she was giving her new husband, Shiori thought so as well. Never the less, Kurama refused to make a scene- no good could come of it. Instead, he excused himself with the mention of homework and retired to his room.

 

 

There was once a time when he would not have stood for that. He has, after all, killed for less. The great Youko Kurama, reduced to being chastised by a human who has been in his home for a span of four months. He chuckled at the absurdity of it as he drew a bath. His lack of a significant other had been a topic of light discussion for over a month now. Of course, it had never been this direct before.

 

 

Whether due to the domestic dispute, or to his lack of quality sleep, Kurama had been not only tired, but stressed for over a week. Heaving and audible sigh, he added an extra handful of sweet pea aroma-therapy beads. Here was hoping for a good night's sleep.

 

 

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

 

Hoping, apparently, wasn't enough.

 

 

The annoying beeping of an alarm clock welcomed the kitsune to the cold and dismal morning. Giving a quiet moan, he turned the alarm off and crawled out of bed.

 

 

On this side of his bathroom door, a full-length mirror was mounted. His pale green pajamas were wrinkled and his hair was thoroughly tousled, but that's not what he chose to stare at. The dark crescents that were just beginning yesterday had become full circles under his eyes. He looked at the clock despite knowing the time. Seven o'clock. He had nine hours of sleep last night- this wasn't possible. The sleep had been the deepest in years; he hadn't woken all through the night, even when Hatakana left for work. He was soundly unconscious, yet looked -and felt - like he hadn't slept in days.

 

 

With sluggish movements, he performed the early morning ritual: wash up, don uniform, eat breakfast, and head off to school.

 

 

It was a three-block walk, but Kurama never minded. It was good to get some fresh air before enduring a day kept up in a school building. This was his time; no pleasantries, no mundane tasks, no image to worry about. Of course, it might have lightened his mood a bit if only the sun would hold up its end. There was a blanket of grey stretching as far as the eye could see. It was like a large, continuous cloud effectively keeping the sun away from the world, or the world away from the sun. Either way. Inspecting the overcast for signs of rain, Kurama spotted a stalker.

 

 

“Kar…”

 

 

So `stalker' might be too strong a word. It depends on who you are.

 

 

“Mother has her heart set on me marrying a human girl. Sorry to disappoint you.” The kitsune was good at sarcasm this morning- it fit both his mood and the weather.

 

 

The crow seemed to follow the redhead the entire three blocks to school without so much as another peep.

 

 

“Whether born in Ningenkai or born in Makai: you're all the same.” It was meant to be an attempt at humor, but it escaped his throat as a dry accusation.

 

 

The halls were crammed with teenagers bustling about. Some were laughing, some were yelling, some putting on a show for attention, and some trying desperately to disappear.

 

 

Kurama was in the process of retrieving a Chemistry book from his locker when he overheard a bit of conversation.

 

 

“They brought in extra counselors and everything.”

 

 

The short young man leaning against the lockers spoke to his friend with an anxious look on his face.

 

 

“You know how my dad's a cop. They found her somewhere in the park- stabbed in the heart. They can't figure out the murder weapon though- it isn't a wound caused by a blade.”

 

 

“Whoa…a murder? Someone from this school?”

 

 

The boy's next words caused a chill to run down Kurama's spine.

 

 

“Yeah. Asena Clements.”

 

 

TBC~