Summary: The story of Kurama's life, from just before his rebirth as Shuuichi Minamino to his encounter with Yuusuke.

Warnings: Knowledge of Yu Yu Hakusho preferable. Rated for language and some adult content.

Author's Notes: The word "yuugou" refers to the blending of two separate entities. Kurama himself used the word to refer to his situation (comic #10, page 10). "Hakusho" literally means "blank pages," and is used to refer to a journal or diary. Japanese vocabulary can be found at the end of the fic.

Part III

Shiori wondered occasionally what it would be like to have a less-than-perfect son. A son who disobeyed, who had tantrums, who argued, who got in fights with other children, a son who laughed joyfully at little things. Instead, she had a son who brought home perfect grades, who was faultlessly polite, who showed absolute calm, a son who was capable, independent, and mature beyond his years. A perfect son that the neighborhood parents envied the Minaminos for having... and yet, she sometimes envied the neighbors. Well, Shuuichi did have his faults, or more accurately, his quirks. He still disappeared abruptly on occasion for longer and longer periods, and he still didn't socialize with children his age outside of school. But these "faults" only added to the occasional sadness she felt over his perfection. It broke her heart that he seemed so distant at times, and old, too... As he grew, he acted warmer and friendlier, but that was the thing... she wondered sometimes if he weren't acting. His ninth birthday was coming up, but he seemed to be eight going on eighty...

"Is something wrong, Kaasan?" Shiori looked up as her son entered the kitchen. She realized she had been staring at the sink.

"Oh, no, Shuuichi. I was just thinking about your birthday coming up and about how quickly you're growing up," she replied as the boy seated himself at the kitchen table. "How was your day?" She glanced at the clock and noted that school had been out for three hours.

"Fine," he answered almost automatically. Kurama watched as his mother went to the refrigerator and wondered what she had been preoccupied with. He knew that he was now much better at acting like a well-adjusted young boy, but he also knew that his mother still had moments of sadness over him. Strangely, this bothered him. Why do I care how she feels? I'm a fox demon, a deceiver by nature, a thief by choice, and a killer by necessity.

He tried to remember back to his original mother. He traced his memories back a thousand years and more... and could only recall a silver bundle of fur and yellow eyes that brought back food to the den. She had been around barely long enough for Kurama and his littermates to be able to fend for themselves. Then, they were on their own, fighting to survive the next century or so until they were able to shapeshift into the youko form and learn to use their growing demon powers. Kurama couldn't recall if any of his siblings had survived that long. He certainly hadn't run into any of them after they left the den. And he didn't think that he had ever seen their mother in the youko form, so she must have been a relatively weak and young fox. Now that he thought about it, she had probably been killed, and that was why he and his littermates had been abandoned at a younger age than was normal...

Which brought him back to his original thought. He had no real memory of a caring, giving, and loving mother. Kurama was not entirely ignorant of the concept of love, for contrary to human belief, there were many demons who were capable of feeling love. He simply had not been exposed to it directly in his own life. Loyalty, dedication, friendship, lust, and even occasionally trust, but never love. Nor guilt, either. Demons rarely, if ever, felt remorse or guilt.

And yet here he was feeling guilty, for he had finally identified it as guilt, because this woman who loved him felt sadness. This woman who loved him unconditionally merely because he was her son. Well, at least the body is... he thought wryly. He watched the woman as she chopped the nappa cabbage, then the enoki mushrooms.

"Oh!" she exclaimed and let go of the knife. A thin red line appeared on her left index finger.

Kurama went to a cabinet and rummaged in a drawer. "Here, Kaasan," he handed her a tube of medicine and an adhesive bandage as she finished washing the wound. He directed her toward the chair he had just abandoned and sat her in it.

"Thank you, Shuuichi. I don't know how that happened. My mind must have been wandering..."

Kurama stepped up to the counter and continued chopping the vegetables. His mother watched as the eight-year-old handled the knife skillfully. He completed the vegetables, then went to the refrigerator and brought out the palettes of thinly sliced beef and the container of tofu. As he pulled the portable electric grill out of a lower cabinet, his mother finally opened her mouth.

"How did you know what I was making, Shuuichi?" she asked, surprise apparent in her voice.

He looked at her for a moment, then looked back at the vegetables on the counter. "The ingredients you already had out."

She looked back at him, her eyes shining admiration, respect and love. "You are a wonderful, amazing boy. What would I do without you?"

Kurama cringed as he felt that twinge in his heart again.

-----

Shuuichi Minamino was the model student. The other fourth graders could not compete with him, neither with his academic nor with his athletic skills. His male classmates had long since learned that his willowy build was deceptive and that he was faster and more agile than any of them. And his female classmates fought for his attention, completely smitten with his pretty face. Shuuichi was a superstar.

Meanwhile, Kurama still hated school. It was a complete waste of his time, relearning science and math he was already familiar with, and having to learn human history and literature that he had no interest in. That combined with having to spend time with immature, powerless human children who hadn't lived a hundredth of the years that he had... Not to mention the adult teachers who couldn't praise him enough, yet still treated him like a child... But he would be patient. It wouldn't be much longer before he could leave his human parents. Until then, he would be the model son.

Which, for now, meant being well-behaved and doing well in school.

"Kaasan, I'm going to need a large can for art tomorrow. Do you have any empty ones?"

"There's one on the top shelf there. I'll get it for you, Shuuichi."

"It's okay, I can get it," Kurama said, pulling a stool up to the cabinet and climbing onto it. He occasionally missed his former body, which at a height of almost seven feet, would not have needed a stool. Briefly, he thought about his body. It would be long gone by now, consumed by lesser demons. Even the bones... He had never been the overly sentimental sort, but the thought still disturbed him. Ingested, digested, and... ugh! He shook his head vigorously, trying to rid himself of the image.

"Shuuichi!" his mother's cry brought him back to reality. A stack of plates was falling off of the shelf towards him. What the...! He shifted his weight backward, then suddenly started falling as the stool tipped back with him. He heard the plates breaking beneath him. Shit! Not good! He couldn't maneuver himself out of the situation without looking completely inhuman. He would just have to take the fall...

And he landed hard and heard flesh being broken by the shards. Except it wasn't his flesh. He sat hurriedly and turned to face his mother. She sat up as well and cradled her bloody arms, pieces of china still stuck in them.

"Shuuichi, are you hurt?" she gasped through the pain.

"Kaasan..." Kurama stared at her, awe-struck. It took him a moment to register what had just happened. She took the pain that should have been mine! A human who can't heal quickly like I can...

"Shuuichi?"

"I'm fine, Kaasan. I'm not hurt."

She smiled and gave a sigh of relief, "I'm glad you're okay."

And there was that twinge in his heart again.

-----

Even the best laid plans... Kurama wasn't entirely certain when or how it had happened. But he seemed to be stuck. He glanced over at his mother who was flipping through a magazine. Several wicked looking scars peeked out from the sleeves of her shirt. For some reason, they had never healed well. And every time that he looked at them, he was reminded of her smile and sigh of relief that he had not been hurt. And with a mere thought of the scars, he would find himself turning back towards home, unable to leave this life. That damned guilt...

"Are you okay, Shuuichi?"

"What?"

"Your character just got killed," his mother pointed out.

"Huh? Oh, I let my mind wander," Kurama said and turned his attention back to the video game he was playing.

Shiori watched as her son refocused on the game. He had been somewhat distracted lately, and she often found him observing her with a look of... confusion?... on his face. She thought back to the plate accident and remembered that he had been shocked and confused then, too. What had caused that unusual reaction? That he had fallen? Yes, he had never exhibited signs of clumsiness, so that might be a surprise. But, no, that didn't seem to be it. He had looked at her in shock and confusion. Because she was bleeding? No, Shuuichi had always been coolly detached about injuries, and even about death. Had he been shocked because she had stopped him from falling on the broken china? Could that be it? Even now, he had been looking at her scars... Oh, my poor, self-reliant son. Did it really surprise you so much that I would want to protect you from harm? Even as she asked herself that question, she knew the answer. Shuuichi had never come to his parents seeking comfort, had never asked to have things done for him, had always taken care of himself... Such a lonely way to live, my son...

-----

Shortly after, Shuuichi seemed to become protective of his mother. Shiori found him hovering around her more frequently, lifting heavy things for her, walking between her and the traffic, standing with a hand at her back as the train lurched the passengers into each other... Then, the unthinkable happened, and Shiori learned just how much she could really count on her son.

Her husband hadn't called from the office to say that he would be late, so she and Shuuichi waited on dinner, assuming that he was just running a little late and would be in shortly. The phone rang.

"That must be Tousan," Shiori said, "Maybe we'll have to eat on our own after all." She picked up the phone, "Yes, Minamino residence."

Kurama was reading on the couch. He looked up as his mother dropped the phone and fell onto the floor.

"Kaasan?" he rushed over, grabbed her shoulders and turned her towards him, "What is it?" She had fainted.

He picked up the phone. "This is her son. What's going on?" he demanded.

"I'm sorry," a man's voice said on the other end, "but there's been an accident. Can I speak to your mother again so I can give her the information of the hospital?"

Hospital? "She's...incapacitated. You can talk with me," Kurama said shortly, "Is it my father?"

There was a pause, then, "Your father is..." The man paused again, unsure of what he should tell a young child.

Irritation flared through Kurama. He could guess what this was about. "I assume he didn't survive?" It was more statement than question.

"Uh..." the man sounded flustered. Was he really speaking to a little boy?

"Where is he being held?" Kurama asked, then took note of the information as he observed his mother beginning to rouse. He hung up the phone, then helped his mother sit up.

"Your father," her voice shook and there were tears in her eyes.

"I know," Kurama said simply, "Go have some water and get your coat." His mother stood up without question and walked into the kitchen.

Kurama picked up the phone again.

When Shiori came back into the living room, still in a daze, her son already had his coat and her purse. He led her out the front door and locked it behind them. The Watanabes, the next door neighbors, were waiting in their car. Kurama helped his mother into the back seat, then handed Mr. Watanabe the hospital's address.

"Thank you for taking us," the boy said after he fastened his mother's seatbelt. "I couldn't get the taxi company to take me seriously," the ten-year-old sounded slightly irritated at being denied just because he sounded young. His mother sat next to him silently, tears running down her cheeks. Suddenly, she turned and tried to get out of the moving car.

"Kaasan!"

"The phone! I... I have to tell his parents what happened... They'll want to know..."

"It's okay, I've already called them, and the others, too," her son said, his fingers wrapped firmly around her arm, "It's too late tonight, but they're coming in tomorrow on the first bullet train they can get on. Your parents will be here, too."

His words finally broke through Shiori's shock. She stared at her remarkable son through misty eyes. "What would I do without you?" she asked again gratefully, then closed her eyes and leaned against her son.

Kurama let her lean against him for awhile, then hesitantly, put an arm around her shoulder. She needs me. He marveled at the thought. She had only him now.

I will stay with her for awhile longer, until I'm certain she will be okay. I owe her that, and my father, too. But after that, I will leave. Yes, I will definitely leave. But he found that the thought didn't come as emphatically as before.

It had been a car accident. Kurama found himself surprised again by how weak humans were. His father had survived the initial impact, but with the medics unable to stop the bleeding and his lungs crushed severely, he had died as they were rushing him down the hospital hallway. Now his body lay under a white sheet on a table in the middle of the empty room. Shiori had taken one look at the figure and had rushed out in tears, unable to look at the face under the smaller white cloth. Kurama stood by the body alone, confirming that the soul had moved on. He carefully removed the small cloth and looked down at the face of the man he had been deceiving for a decade. This man had supplied half of the genetic material that made up his current body. And now he lay here as an empty shell, no hint of a soul. Kurama stood for several long moments, not certain what to do or how to react. Should he cry, as his mother was doing now? Should he rant about human frailty? Should he swear vengeance and hunt down the driver of the vehicle? Death was commonplace in the Makai, and he had caused his share of it. He had also lost countless comrades to it over the centuries. But he went on, because that was what he did, what all demons did. Why should this one death be any more significant? Kurama couldn't answer that, but somehow, he felt that it was.

"Shuuichi-kun, come, you shouldn't be in here by yourself," Mr. Watanabe approached him from behind. He noticed that the boy had removed the cloth covering the face, and he took it from him uncomfortably. He replaced it gingerly, then put a hand on the boy's shoulder. The boy looked up at him, his expression unreadable. "Are you okay?" Mr. Watanabe asked.

"Yes, I'm fine," the child responded, looking a little puzzled at the question.

"I'm sorry, Shuuichi-kun. You're father was a wonderful man," Mr. Watanabe felt awkward offering condolences to a boy, but it felt strangely appropriate, since Shuuichi had been in charge from the moment he had called the Watanabes with the news of the accident. We always knew he was an unusual child...

The boy nodded, expressionless once more, then walked out of the room. Mr. Watanabe walked after him, and waited with his wife as the boy knelt by Shiori.

"The doctor said that there was nothing they could do, Kaasan. They will keep him here tonight," Kurama put his hands on her shoulders and forced her to look at him, "Let's go home for now. The Watanabes are waiting to take us back. We'll return tomorrow with the family. I don't know what funeral arrangements are to be made, so you'll need to speak with Ojiisan and Obaasan when they arrive."

Shiori blinked, tears still falling silently. "Do you hear me, Kaasan?" he continued, "You'll need to be well-rested. And you should eat something. We left without dinner." Shiori finally nodded and slowly stood up. She let her son take her hand and lead her down the hall.

The doctor who had spoken to Mr. Watanabe and Kurama watched with a look of mixed amusement and amazement as the young boy took charge. "That's quite a child," he commented, as his eyes met the Watanabes' eyes.

"Truly," Mr. Watanabe responded, then he and his wife followed the other two.

As he led her to the car, Kurama glanced at his mother who had a tight grip on his hand. She looked less dazed now, but tears were still leaving streaks on her cheeks. Kurama sighed wearily. Until I'm certain she will be okay, he repeated to himself. Then...