I've noticed people sometimes don't like it when there are no warnings pertaining to the content of the story. I personally don't care too much for warnings, as I think they tone down surprises and such. But I'll try to find a happy medium. Here's your warning, perhaps the only one I'll offer you: parts of this story will be very vague at times, but don't worry, by the end I hope that everything will piece together quite nicely and make complete sense. Until then, I'll trust you to your own different theories and such. But now you can't say I didn't spare you a little warning.

A/N: July 23,2005--the date this story was published here. Almost two years. And as of today (June 6, 2007), it's still not done. You (those who have been reading it since that publication date, or close to there) are probably experiencing varying levels of aggravation toward me, at least time to time, eh? Sorry--but at least it's now almost done.

But first, and I can't believe it's taken me two years to do this, some minor things need to be changed. Don't worry! It's nothing too dramatic, just a few minor things, I promise. I'm condensing some chapters together, resulting in fewer, longer chapters, which I think may be a pleasant thing for newer readers or anyone who desires to reread this story at some point; and I'm revising some scenes to make the story flow better, which may be another pleasantry. The main theme of the story, however, remains as it has been and as I intended for it to be.

For those familiar with the former draft of this story, Chapter I of "re-WIOOP?" is made up of the first two chapters from the original WIOOP? I hope my re-wioop-ing project won't sour anyone's opinion of the story as a whole. I hope that when all is said and done, it will make it all the better.

"Better by far that you should forget and smile than that you should remember and be sad." - Christina Rossetti

Was It Out of Pity?
Chapter I
Edited: June 6, 2007

"… demons…."

Darkness. Faint noises, off in the distance. Silence again. He was alone, submerged in oblivion.

"… Kurama…."

Kurama. Yes, that was his name. He was Kurama. Was someone talking to him? About him? Who was that? Where were they? For that matter, where was he? He couldn't see anything. Everything around him was a shadow. He tried reaching out, tried to feel his surroundings. He couldn't move.

"… Shuichi…."

Shuichi. That was his name also. Shuichi Minamino. His alias in the Ningenkai. Attended Meiou Institute. Perfect student. Perfect son. All lies.

The voice. He recognized it. Shiori Hatanaka. The woman who had loved and raised him for eighteen years. Her voice faded away. "Mother," he tried, but no sound came out. He tried to move again, but failed. 'I'm paralyzed,' he thought.

There was a ringing in his ears, as though he were underwater. Though he couldn't be; he could still breathe. At least, he thought he could still breathe. He wasn't entirely sure.

He heard a muffled noise. Several voices mixed within each other, impossible to dissect any individual one from the mass. 'Where am I?' he wondered. 'Where am I that I cannot move, where I am blind and mute, and barely capable of hearing?'

An awful thought struck him; perhaps he had died. 'This cannot be!' he pleaded to no one. 'I would have remembered dying, wouldn't I?'

"… Kurama…."

His mother's voice again. In vain he uttered a soundless cry for help. 'How does she know that name?' He had never told her about his true self. That was too harsh a reality, he would much rather let her continue to live in peace, in a blissful lie he himself had created. He would never bring himself to shatter that perfect world; it was so much better than the ugly truth. That much he could do for her.

"… Kurama…."

This voice he also recognized with no delay. Hiei. His former partner in crime, his fellow teammate, his friend… Beyond that point his feelings concerning the other demon grew uncertain.

For some time he was aware of these murky sounds which surrounded him. Most always they were extremely faint, far away, though at times he heard the voices of his mother and Hiei speak his name most clearly, as though directly in his ear. 'What is happening?' His mother did not know his demon name. Also, she and Hiei had never conversed together; she didn't even know who the Koorime was. This wasn't right.

Suddenly all of his senses grew much stronger. He was still lethargic and immobile, but his hearing returned to its normal sharpness, and he began to distinguish blurry images before him…

There was his mother, looking very distressed. Surrounding her were his friends: Yusuke Urameshi, Kazuma Kuwabara, and even Hiei. There was also Koenma, Prince of the Reikai, his paranormal employer. And Botan too, one of the ferry girls who brought the spirits of the departed across the River of Death. They were all visibly upset. Something was evidently wrong.

He now noticed tears running down Shiori's face. Something must have happened to him. But he would have remembered dying. Wouldn't he?

"Please tell me," she said to his friends. "Was Kurama—Shuichi—my son... was he conscious? Did he feel what happened…?"

Kurama woke, gasping for breath, soaked in a cold sweat. In a panic, he quickly examined his surroundings, and then himself. Yes, he was in his bed, in his room, completely intact. He sighed and looked at his clock. Nine a.m.; he had overslept.

Why did his hair feel greasy? He had taken a shower the night prior… hadn't he? Kurama tried to remember, and was bewildered when he realized he was unable to recall a single event from the night before. Or the day before. For that matter, what was today? He didn't know.

'This is strange,' he thought absently, heading downstairs. He wondered why he had slept so late. Kurama almost always rose with the sun.

His mother was sitting at the kitchen table. He quirked an eyebrow. She should be at work right now. Unless it was the weekend. "Good morning, Mother," he said pleasantly.

Shiori whipped her head around and stared at him. She rose from her seat, and the next thing Kurama knew, he was being crushed against his mother's body by her suffocating embrace. "Oh, Shuichi!" she exclaimed, hugging him even tighter. She stood back and beamed at him, though he noticed she appeared anxious at the same time. "Good morning," she continued. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," he replied, trying to regain his breath. She was certainly more affectionate than usual this morning.

"Are you sure?" she pressed, looking him over.

He smiled uncertainly and nodded. "Yes, I'm very sure. Why?"

She frowned and stared at him, her brow furrowed. Then she smiled again and squeezed his shoulder. "No reason," she said sweetly. "Would you like me to fix you something?"

"There's no need for you to trouble yourself. I don't need anything."

"You should have something to eat," she admonished. "It's not healthy to skip breakfast."

Kurama conceded, and allowed her to fix him some toast. "This is a strange question," he began, "but do you know what day it is?"

Again he received that strange stare. "It's Tuesday," she said after a few seconds.

"Oh." Shiori gave him a worried look. "I was just confused," he said hastily. "I thought you worked today."

"I am." She gestured to the table, half of which was covered with paperwork. "I've just decided to work from home for a while."

He almost choked on his toast. "What? Are you okay?" The last time she had worked form home was when she began to grow ill.

"Of course," she reassured. "I needed a break from the office, that's all."

"I see…" Shiori looked as healthy as ever, but he made a mental note to keep an eye on her all the same. "Shuichi is at school, I assume?"

"And Kazuya is at work."

Kurama widened his eyes. "I-I completely forgot! I was supposed to finish those revenue figures—"

"Shh…" His mother smoothed his hair soothingly. "Calm down. Don't worry about work today. Relax. You stress over your job too much, it can't be good for you."

He took a deep, relaxing breath, and nodded. Perhaps she was right. After all, he had even forgotten what day it was, and everything he had done the day before…

"Shuichi?" Shiori asked, concerned. "Is something the matter?"

His uncertainty must have shown. "No, nothing's wrong." He finished his toast. "I believe I'll take a walk, alright?"

"Um, okay." She flashed him a smile as she returned to her paperwork. "Don't overexert yourself, okay? If you begin to feel faint at all, come home."

"I will," he told her, confused by what she had said. A rather odd request to make. "Good-bye."

"Good-bye, Shuichi," Shiori called after him as he left.

Kurama shut the door behind him and walked down the street. The morning felt warm and fresh, and the air carried the clean scent of a recent rain mixed with the sweetness of grass roots and soil. He smiled. It was spring, the season of rebirth and new beginnings. A time brimming with inspiration and opportunity.

Despite the serene atmosphere however, Kurama could not help feeling slightly disturbed. Last night his sleep had been filled with many strange dreams. All were slightly varied, but all carried the same meaning.

Why had he dreamt about his friends telling his mother he was a demon?

'When did the Sakura blossom?' Kurama wondered. He was walking by a park, where people had flocked by the dozens to admire the trees' seasonal flora. The redhead stared at the pale pink and rarer white flowers and frowned. The last he remembered, the trees had been bare branches with tiny buds. How had he missed their blooming?

He continued walking, a little disappointed now, while he tried to recall what he had done yesterday. Perhaps he should ask his mother? He quickly dismissed that idea. This was a minor problem, nothing to cause her worry over.

His stomach growled. 'Should have had more than just toast,' he though. An idea struck him: Perhaps he saw Yusuke yesterday. Maybe he knew what Kurama did. He could solve two problems at once.

Yusuke was behind the counter when Kurama arrived at the ramen shop. His face was contorted in uncharacteristic concentration, his hand clenching a fly swatter, his gaze fixed on the instrument's destined victim. The fly moved; Yusuke pounced. "All right!" he exclaimed, examining the guts now spattered on the swatter. "Gotcha, you winged bastard!"

An evil thought went through Kurama's head. "Health inspector," he said in a deep, gruff voice.

"What!" Yusuke spun around, swatter concealed behind him, a guilty, apprehensive look on his face. He saw no menacing man in a business suit, though; the only person in the shop besides him was Kurama, wearing a smug little smile and looking quite amused. For a moment all he could do was stand there, and then he began sputtering. The only audible phrase Kurama caught was, "Not funny, Fox-boy!" and then something containing "sadist." He smiled and donned an expression of sheer innocence.

"A sadist? Me? Surely, you must be mistaken. I was simply giving you a friendly warning, as I'm fairly sure that particular pastime is viewed as unacceptable in an eating establishment." He gave Yusuke a grin that could rival the Cheshire cat's and took a seat at the counter.

"Friendly warning my ass," Yusuke grumbled. "Almost scared the shit out of me is what you did." He glared at his red-haired friend, then raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes, as though having just realized something. "Whoa! Kurama!"

The other boy looked up from the menu he had been debating. "Yes? What?"

"Nothing, except… it's you…" Yusuke trailed off.

Kurama arched a brow. "Of course," he said, giving his friend a strange look. "Who else would I be?"

"No one, but…" Yusuke shrugged, smiling. Rather uneasily, Kurama noted. "Never mind," he said. "So, um, what brings you here?"

"I didn't have enough breakfast. And so I thought I'd show my support by offering you my patronage."

"Uh-huh." Yusuke wondered if Kurama read from the dictionary every night before going to bed. "And, uh, how do you feel?" he asked carefully.

He furrowed his brow. "Other than hunger, I feel fine." 'It would appear that everything concerning today is odd.'

Yusuke blinked and looked as though he hadn't expected that answer. "Really?"

"Yes," he replied uncertainly. Yusuke was staring at him in a very peculiar fashion. "What?"

He continued to stare at him for a few moments, than looked away. "Nothing," he muttered. "Never mind." Yusuke suddenly seemed very fascinated by something in the kitchen. "Um, how 'bout some noodles?" he asked quickly. "On the house."

"I can pay," Kurama protested. "It's no problem—"

"Nonsense!" Yusuke cut him off, talking in a loud voice. "What good's having your own restaurant if you can't give a friend a free meal once in awhile? I'll go get that now; be back in a few minutes, 'kay?" Before Kurama could argue, Yusuke had already vanished.

'It's as though he were running away from me.' How did he feel? Had he been sick? Yes, that would account for some of his mother's unusual behavior that morning…

"Ouch! Damn it!" Kurama gave a small smile and shook his head while he listened to Yusuke battle the kitchen. There was a steady stream of crockery clanging and Yusuke swearing for several minutes, and then he reappeared with the noodles.

"Is everything all right in there?" he asked upon receiving the food.

"What? Yeah; I'm just about ready to torch the damn kitchen though."

"You don't usually act like this while working, do you?"

Kurama received a puzzled look. "What do you mean?" asked Yusuke.

"For one thing, do you often make death threats against the kitchen appliances? They're inanimate, Yusuke. It has no affect on them. There is no benefit from it."

"It makes me feel better…" Yusuke replied indignantly.

"Though I'll wager it doesn't help charm the customers." Kurama did a visual scan of the room. "It's rather vacant in here," he observed.

"Yeah, well," Yusuke shrugged again. "You're the first person to come by today."

'That's no good,' Kurama thought. Something came to his attention. "Where's Keiko?" he inquired.

"She went to see if there was anything she could do at her parents' place. It's not as though I can't handle this place myself." He gestured about the empty shop. "Things are so slow here it's practically a standstill."

"It wouldn't be if you would act more professional," Kurama insisted.

"Yeah," Yusuke muttered, though he obviously was not paying attention.

"I'm serious, Yusuke. This is a workplace. You may be your own boss, but if you really want to make it, you can't behave like you do during your leisure time."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked defensively.

"I mean you can't act like you did when you were in school. Goofing around, slacking off, and threatening to bash someone's face in will not help you here."

Yusuke made a dismissive motion with is hand. "I've done just fine so far."

"Things change, Yusuke," Kurama emphasized. "You no longer work solely as a Tantei. Times change; jobs change; people change. You have to be flexible to change with them. Someone who tolerated your actions when you were younger may not be so forgiving where business is taken into consideration."

His friend appeared to be contemplating over what he had said. "So what you're saying," he began, "is that I have to be 'flexible'—by straightening up and acting more proper?" He gave Kurama a dubious look.

"I know that sounds rather like an oxymoron. But in a sense, yes, that's what I'm saying."

"Who's a moron?" Yusuke asked innocently. Kurama stared, horrified. "Hey, lighten up! I'm kidding!" Kurama continued to stare. "Okay Fox-boy, you can quit it now. Don't worry; I'll keep what you said in mind. Seriously!" he reassured.

Kurama blinked. "I hope so," he muttered. Yusuke shrugged, and then resumed his fly-hunting. He sighed and began to eat. It was doubtful as to if what he had said had actually penetrated his friend's thick skull.

"Score!" Yusuke cried. Kurama shook his head and selected a portion of newspaper off the table. He found himself absently staring over the classifieds when he looked up at the heading and noticed the date. He uttered a soft gasp and dropped his chopsticks.

Yusuke noticed immediately. "What's wrong?" he asked quickly, in a concerned tone most unlike him.

He looked at Yusuke without actually seeing him. "Yusuke, was I with you at all yesterday?"

"Um…." He shifted on his feet. "No," he said in a low voice. "Why?"

"I know it's peculiar, but I don't remember what I did yesterday." He looked down at the paper, his expression growing uneasy. "Or the past month, so it would seem." He gave Yusuke an attempted smile, but failed. "When did it become April, Yusuke?"

He looked so confused; it didn't suit him. "Um, when March ended," he answered, trying to be humorous.

Kurama had a vacant expression on his face. "I-I don't remember anything," he said helplessly. "Not a single thing."

"Uh, yeah." Yusuke toyed with the napkin holder. "So, um, what's the last thing you do remember?"

"I remember…." Several moments passed, and Kurama heaved a frustrated sigh. "Nothing," he said, shaking his head. "Everything's a blank."

"So, you don't remember a thing before today?"

"No, not like that. I still know who I am and everything; it's not complete amnesia."

"Right. And, uh, what do you remember from before this … blank?"

He thought for a moment. "I'm not sure. It's all fuzzy."

"Okay," Yusuke said slowly. He leaned against the back counter and stared at his friend.

'He's looking at me the same way Mother did this morning.' Kurama felt strange. Not remembering one day was one affair, but an entire month…? Suddenly he laughed.

"What?" Yusuke asked.

"Nothing. I was just thinking about a dream I had."

"Yeah?"

He nodded. "You, Kuwabara, Hiei, Koenma, and Botan—you all told my mother about me. Strange, right?"

No reply. Kurama furrowed his brow and looked up. Yusuke was gazing at him unusually. He froze. "Y-Yusuke?" he stammered. Surely they hadn't…?

Yusuke blinked. "What? Kurama, you don't actually think we'd tell her? That's your business." He cracked a knowing smile. "Hey, here's a piece of advice you should listen to. Relax."

Kurama pursed his lips, and then shrugged. "Maybe you're right." He had been feeling rather stressed over work—that is, assuming he remembered correctly. And he recalled reading an article once about the effects stress could have on a person, including their dreams. Perhaps that could account for the memory loss also….

The phone rang. Yusuke stayed put, fiddling with a dead piece of skin on his finger. "It won't answer itself, Yusuke," Kurama said softly.

"Fine," he grumbled. He snatched it off its cradle. "Yeah, what do you want?"

'His head must be made of stone,' Kurama thought. It appeared that none of his advice had sunk in. He heaved a sigh and stared into his bowl.

What had before been mild confusion had, with a mere glance at a newspaper, metamorphosed into a great concern. An entire month of his life had gone, and he held no memory of it. What had he done during that time he could not recall? And, better question yet, why was he unable to remember?