Mou; trying another new angle once again. Some one once asked me to try a Sojiro/Kamatari fic, so I am. This is it. It's AU, shonen ai (later on) and also a reincarnation story.

Enjoy[?] (Is that possible? It's written really weird; from Kamatari's POV).

I remember once, when I was younger, reading about reincarnation.

Reincarnation, the selection stated, is the belief that when one dies, one's body decomposes, but one is reborn in another body. It is the belief that one has lived before and will live again in another body after death.

It was a reading I had done for an intro level philosophy lecture, a class I didn't want to take, but was forced to. I hated that course, hated it with a passion. I was a skeptic; I didn't put any stock into things like reincarnation and the afterlife. You lived; you died. It was simple as that.

Of course, things are never really that simple.

My twenty-ninth birthday was approaching when my life began to take a turn for the weirdest. Since I'd graduated college, I had been working as a librarian at the state college while trying to save up the money to go back to school and earn my master's degree. I had decided at a young age that I liked history -it fascinated me- and I had completed my schooling after taking pretty much every history course the school offered. The library was state-of-the-art and I was allowed to research in my spare time.

At that time in my life, I felt like I was drifting. I had a steady job, but it was menial work, not the kind I had envisioned myself doing. No serious relationships. I was fairly popular with the ladies; they had deemed me attractive enough to pursue, but I had never really been interested. No big deal, right?

Right.

But now, here I am, twenty-eight years old and staring down into the bright blue eyes of an eager-to-please freshman. He's smiling up at me, fumbling, "Please, Sir, they said you'd be the best one to ask…"

I study him for a moment, taking in dark, shiny hair, deep azure eyes and that polite smile plastered across a boyish face. A creepy feeling washes over me and the hair on the back of my neck rises. This boy…I feel like I know him somehow. But this can't be possible. We've never met before; there's no way I can know him.

But he seems so familiar.

"The best one to ask about what?" I blink down at him. He's still smiling at me, blue eyes squeezed shut.

"The best one to ask about history related topics." He says politely, "They say you know everything and I have a paper due next week. Can you help me?"

"I don't know everything." I can feel my cheeks heating at his words. The old lady librarians like to tease me and say I'm a favorite among the young students who desperately need help and they must have been singing my praise again. Usually, they send the girls after me, saying I need some one, but I don't care. I'm not really looking right now and besides, none of those girls ever interest me. "But what are you studying? I might be able to help."

He nods and begins digging around in his backpack for what I assume would be the assignment. It appears that his favorite color is blue; his shirt is navy, his pants denim. Even his hair seems to have a bluish sheen and I still can't figure out why he seems so familiar.

It's going to bother me.

He hands me a somewhat crumpled sheet with the instructions for the paper and I scan it. Research any historical figure of your choosing and write a ten page biography on him/her. Could it be any more broad? "I think you need to give me something more specific than this."

"Well…" He scratches the back of his head sheepishly, "I was hoping I could get some suggestions. I don't really like history, you see, and I have no clue where to begin."

"This is intro level world history, right?" I question.

He nods, dark hair bouncing.

"What have you studied so far?"

"Umm…To be honest, Sir, I have no clue." He smiles nervously, a light blush spreading across his cheeks, "I sleep through most of the lectures. They are at nine in the morning."

I sigh. How many kids have come in here over the past five years and given me similar excuses? Far too many to count; that's for sure. Then I brush back a strand of hair, peering once again into deep indigo eyes and wondering how long it will take to find a suitable research subject for this kid. "What are you interested in?"

"Not history. It's so boring." He chirps. Then his face flushes red and he claps a hand over his mouth, "Sorry! I didn't mean to insult you or anything and-"

I cut him off, smiling in amusement. "It's okay." No one has ever apologized to me for saying they dislike my favorite subject. But this kid seems rather polite and well-rounded, even if his smiles are a little…eerie. "No one apologizes and no one who likes history ever needs my help. So I'm used to it."

"I still shouldn't have said it." He insists, "It was rude of me. I really like math and history isn't my thing. But do you think you can please help me?" He smiles again. His smiles come easily, but there's some sort of underlying emotions that he's trying to block out. I can sense it in him, almost the same way you can tell when some one is watching you even if you can't see them.

"I'll try my best to find a person who'll interest you." I promise. I like this boy; he seems rather friendly. And he has that sort of little-boy charm about him, that unending innocence that's still there, even though you know he's not that innocent.

"Thank you so much, Sir!" He beams, "I really appreciate it. I need a good grade on this."

His enthusiasm isn't lost on me and I grin in return. "You wouldn't believe how many times I've heard that. Now c'mon, Sou, and we'll see what's up in the history books." I turn to go and assume he'll follow.

But he's remained rooted right to that spot. He doesn't move at all and I don't notice until I hear his slightly confused and stunned whisper. "Excuse me Sir…How did you know my name?"

I freeze, turning back to face him. He looks perplexed; about as puzzled as I feel.

How did I know his name?

Dun dun dun! Cliff hanger! Whatya think? Good? Bad? Or just plain ugly?