Author's Note: I'm back yet again, this time to redeem a wrong I was forced into creating. This fic came about after writing To Be Left Behind. This is a companion fic of sorts, although it could stand on it's own just fine. This is a reincarnation fic, in which two old companions meet, one of which has no recollection of the other. Prepare for fluff, new names, and the occasional angsty moment. A happy ending is guaranteed. For those who want to end a story in tears, go read To Be Left Behind. Shoo. Anyone see the self-advertising? Heh . . . Sharys

Disclaimer: Yusuke, Hiei, and any other Yu Yu Hakusho character who decides to make an appearance, does not belong to me. If they did, well . . . the world would be a scary place.

To Remember

By: Sharys Aogail

Chapter One:

I skidded around the corner, then scrambled to catch up to the girl further up the street, her long mahogany braid trailing behind her. Panting, I called out to her. "Oh, come on Ayame! Slow down will ya?"

She glared over her shoulder, the venomous look stating quite clearly that she had absolutely no intention of heeding the request. "If you had been ready when I got there we wouldn't be in a rush, now would we?"

I sped up, matching her pace. Being that I was more of less still half asleep, I didn't much appreciate the lecture so early in the morning. "I don't think I ever asked you to pick me up every morning. It's not my fault you didn't leave without me!"

"So you're turning this into my fault?"

Turning the thought over in my mind, I spared a glance upwards. "I wouldn't phrase it quite like that, but-"

The rest of my sentence was cut off, as my face suddenly became very aquatinted with Ayame's book bag. Ayame's very large and over-stuffed book bag.

As I sat there in a dazed stupor, Ayame herself loomed over me visibly fuming. "If that's the way you feel, Ketsui, you can go to school by yourself!" With that said, she whirled about on her heel and stormed off.

Once she was out of sight, I hoisted myself back on my feet, putting as much dignity into thew motion as I could. After dusting myself off, I rubbed my throbbing jaw with one hand. Me and my damn mouth. Admittedly it was a stupid thing to say, but did she always have to have such violent reactions? Childhood friendship or no, I was beginning to wonder if it was worth all the abuse.

Truth of the matter was that she was anxious. I hadn't been myself lately and every time she tried to pry into the matter I would change the subject or brush it off completely. Things had been odd lately. I dreamed, for one thing. Its not something to get in a twist over, I know, but every time I woke up the images slipped from my mind, keeping me from remembering them completely. This was usually par for the course, but something kept nagging at me, telling me that they were important somehow. But no matter what I did, I couldn't remember them.

Then there was the feeling of being followed. It had only happened once, and that had been well over a week ago, but it was more than enough to set me on edge. I tried to hide it of course, but Ayame noticed the difference, so did my parents for that matter.

A stifled sound brought my attention back to my surroundings. A small crowd had gathered across the street, with a pair of women giggling behind their hands. I scowled at them, my fingers threatening to curl into fists. Seeing that the show was over, the crowd began to disperse. The fact that I was glaring at all of them hastened their departure.

As the group thinned, I noticed that someone had decided to remain, his stance firm, and hands stuffed somewhat defiantly into sweatshirt pockets. I gave him a brief glance before turning away. Kids with staring problems weren't worth the effort. And so I continued on my way, heading off in the same direction that my wayward friend had disappeared to.

Being that I simply walked the rest of the way to school, I arrived on campus forty-five minutes late. Completely bypassing the office, I decided to head strait to class. (Who actually got late passes these days, really?) I'm sure that my math teacher would just love to see me arrive in time for the last ten minutes of class. It wasn't like I actually needed his advice to pass the upcoming test.

I grinned, imagining that bastard's expression. You would think that after seven whole months of dealing with me that he would understand that his idea of intimidation had absolutely no effect on me. He thought that because I was often stingy on the homework I didn't understand the material. Truth was, I just felt too lazy to do a proper job when there were a million other things I would rather be doing. Ah, well. More fun for me I guess.

Just as I was about to turn down my corridor, I caught the sound of a metallic clang. It wasn't too hard to find the source of the disturbance further down the hall. My blue eyes narrowed in agitation. Damn bullies picking on pipsqueaks again.

I gave another, more gleeful grin.

Nothing like a good workout to work out built up tension.

oOoOo

"I don't know what we're going to do with you, Ryoku! You just waltz in here over a half an hour late and then you instigate a bar brawl on your way to class! What the hell were you thinking in that thick head of yours?"

I sat sprawled across the harsh wooden chair, my elbows dangling over the arms of the chair, my feet crossed at the ankle and propped up on the principal's fake wood-grain desk. It never failed to amaze me how cheap this school was, honestly. Besides, I had visited this particular office enough times to develop a certain loathing for the furniture. So did I care if my scruffy old boots scratched the damn desk? Not in the least.

Besides, it wasn't like they were going to get rid of me anytime soon, while my overall grades were poor, my test scores were outstanding. With a school this small, they were hesitant to make themselves look worse.

The principal was a fat, middle-aged man with beady little eyes and a balding scalp. He had been going around in circles with his little lecture for nearly ten minutes now, and quite frankly, I was getting sick of it.

As mister "authority figure" screamed at me, I tilted my head back to stare impatiently at the ceiling. "Oh, calm down old man, before you give yourself a heart attack." I paused and then scratched my chin absently. "Besides . . . its not like they didn't deserve it."

"That's beside the point!"

I snorted, crossed my arms over my chest, and glared defiantly. "So you just expect me to stand there while some poor kid gets beat to a bloody pulp? Great justice system you have there. Remind me never to go to you for legal advice."

"That 'poor kid' is the only reason you're not going to be expelled!" I blinked in surprise, and waited for the man to continue. "But you will be suspended for the rest of the week, and when you return on Monday you will be having detention with me every day for the next two weeks. And if in that time you get into just one fight, I will make it my personal mission to expel you! Are we clear?"

I slouched further in my chair and gave a mock salute. "Crystal, sir."

"Good. Now get your sorry ass off campus before I change my mind."

Rising from my seat, I exited his office, the heavy wooden door slamming shut behind me. I whirled about to glare daggers at the shiny brass nameplate fastened to the door itself. Narrowing my eyes, I pointed at the letters accusingly, my hand shaped lile a pistol.

I grinned, and gave a soft, "bang!"

A solid beam of blue-white light shot down the hall, blasting a well-dressed man from behind, rendering him completely unconscious. I blinked down at my finger. "Hey, it worked!"

A monster charged at an impossible speed, rushing in for an attack. Even as it moved I took careful aim with empty hands and pointed.

"SPIRIT GUN!"

I leapt back, staring in shock at my trembling hand. Breathing hard, I glanced up at the door only to find it whole and still intact.

My mind raced even as my heart calmed, trying to find an explanation.

"What the hell was that?" I asked, vaguely aware that no one was there to answer. Realizing how it would look if someone saw me talking to myself and jumping at shadows, I brushed it off for now and left.

oOoOo

There was a nice park about a half a mile from my apartment complex where I often went to relax. It was fairly large, I suppose, with a nice play area at the center of a football-sized field, where kids could be seen tumbling about or playing soccer. A nice line of trees that went at least four trees deep flanked the field itself.

I went there now, finding my usual secluded bench and plopped down gratefully.

I just knew Ayame was going to be royally pissed when she found out what had happened. She would probably let me have it about how I was screwing up my future, and that I should care more about my academics. Of course this would be coming from Miss School-Spirit herself, and so she would never even consider the possibility that someone might not give a damn about school. Well . . . not like her anyway.

I entertained the thought of skipping my detentions just to hear her screech. Or maybe just ditch all together.

With that in mind, I reached inside my jacket pocket, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, extracting one with practiced ease. That done, I patted down my breast pocket for my zippo and lit the end of the little white stick. I inhaled gratefully, waiting for the nicotine to kick in.

"Old habits die hard it seems."

Expelling a cloud of smoke, I turned my head to look at the speaker. He stood, leaning one shoulder against a nearby tree, his arms folded casually across his chest. He looked to be about my age, or nearly, with oddly tousled black hair that half-hid blazingly red eyes. Contacts, I figured, and damn good ones at that. He wore loose black pants of an unknown fabric, and a blood-red sweatshirt with twin black dragons twisting up the front. The loose clothing did nothing to enhance his age, the loose clothing making him look small and frail.

His image suddenly flickered, replaced by a shorter, paler figure, with heavily spiked hair. In the blink of an eye it was gone, the original image firmly back in place.

I squinted my eyes a bit at the newcomer, and pointed at him with the end of my cigarette. "Do I know you from somewhere?" I asked.

The teen gave a one-shoulder shrug, his eyes never leaving mine. "I don't think so," he replied, his voice a little deeper than expected, and oddly neutral. "Do I look familiar?"

No, my mind supplied instantly, but a bizarre sense of familiarity lingered, making me doubt myself. "I'm not sure."

With a sigh, the teen's eyes closed as he gave a single acknowledging nod. A faint smile flickered across his face, but it could have just been the lighting. He pushed off the tree he had been resting against and began to leave. However, after no more than two steps he paused, turning his head just enough to see me out of the corner of hi eye. "Well, until you are sure, good day Detective."

My head jerked back as, in the blink of an eye, he disappeared. Just . . . gone. Poof! Gone into thin air. My eyes darted about, frantically searching for some sort of trick or prankster.

Finding none, I rose from my bench and tossed my cig into the dirt, absently snuffing out the ember with my heel. I glared accusingly at the nearby trees as if they were withholding the truth from me. Agitated, I stuffed my hands deep into my pockets.

Recalling everything that had happened recently, I could only think of one thing.

What the hell?

Author's Note: Revamped a bit to fit with later parts and full with corrections. Here ya are people. More is coming soon for the rough draft is complete! Please remember to review. How else can a writer improve her work? Sharys