I was not an extraordinary apparition. With no real purpose, except to maybe find some closure on the past I had little to no understanding of, and no real means of attaining my solitary goal, I was a wanderer personified. To say I was dissatisfied with my banal life would be an understatement. I had spent the better portion of the past ten years running. From what exactly, I couldn't tell you. I was stoic to all the demons I encountered, luckily scaring most away with a simple glance or burst of energy, that usually tired me out, and completely terrified on the inside. I had no purpose and to live without a purpose or a past to tie you down to the world is a scary thing.

Restless and awaiting adventure, the Demon World Tournament sponsored by Yusuke Urameshi piqued my interest. I would like to tell you I went there with hopes to win, or at the very least reinvigorate my life, but I'm not a liar. Things in the Demon World had taken an unfortunate turn of events for me, but I get ahead of myself. So with little to no training, I headed out to battle with the top contenders of the demon world with every intention to die.

On the night before the Preliminaries, I dreamt. In my dream I was walking through a field of grass, and I was young again, as young as I was when I first entered Demon World. And as I ran around, this smaller version of myself was actually laughing, chasing someone through the grasses, though my dream-self was much too short to see over the top of the grass. And then I ran into a pair of skirt covered legs, and fell backwards in a fit of giggles. Then a tall woman who eerily resembled how I look now turned around smiling as brightly as the sun blazing overhead through a sky so clearly blue it could not have been in Demon World.

She picked me up, cooing sweet, lovely things to me as I smiled as though shadows could not reach my young heart. And the dream continued like that, like some sort of amazing fairytale where I had a mother who chased me and taught me how to laugh. And then I felt a stirring in my mind, indicating to me that this was just a fantasy about to end, and all I could think as my mother turned to face me was that even in my dreams I would not find a happy ending to my tale. And this gorgeous willowy woman turned to me, her laugh lines and easy smile vanishing as she told me in her sing-song voice, "Wake up, Haruka. You don't belong here anymore, darling."

I jolted awake, falling out of the tree I spent the night in. For just a moment, I lay in the grass, cursing myself for being so clumsy and having such a hopeful mind. I laid my head in the dirt for one second more before fully opening my eyes, and secretly savored the dream that I truly believed would be the last dream I ever had.

I got myself up off the ground and dusted myself off, though even I knew there was not a hope in the world raggedy, formerly white dress I was wearing. Looking around, I realized that the day was already starting and I had very little time to actually get to the tournament. Yet, I found myself uncharacteristically fussing over my hair, trying to untangle the mass of waves atop my head. Once my white-streaked dark hair hung as straight as it could down my back, I set off at a run for the tournament. I didn't know that despite all my fussing that morning, I had forgotten to clean the dirt smudges off my face.

Arriving at the site of the registration for the tournament, I arrive to see many demons already headed inside, either as spectators or as those who have already registered to fight. I walk with dignity up to a demon I see sitting at a table writing down names on a scroll of paper and give him mine. "Haruka Oishi." His eyes flicker up and then stare at me in surprise. I'm sure I look weak and unimposing, in fact I know I do. Standing at an unusually short height with frail features, swollen lips, covered in dirt despite trying to clean myself earlier, and gossamer wings I try to keep hidden behind my back, I more strongly resemble a lost child than a demon ready to compete to be the ruler of all of Demon World.

I stare back as hard as possible, challenging him to say something, and spout out as much demon energy as possible. The lizard like creature before me just sneers at me and says, "Sweetheart, you'd last longer in the sack than you will in the arena."

"Really," I ask, feigning shock. Then I quickly unsheathe a dagger on my leg and throw it at him, nearly missing his head, as it sticks to the wall behind him. "Because I came here to fight, not screw shriveled up demons." He just sneers at me one last time before handing me a tag with a four-digit number on it as he writes down my name. "Go on inside, Sweetheart. They're 'bout to start drawing lots for them prelims." In response, I lean forward to extract my dagger from the wall and the waltz off into the arena to find a ridiculously long line awaiting me.

But, before I go to join them I begin to stumble off to find a nice dark corner where I can gather my energy. Trying to boost my demon energy to appear at the high C-class level had exhausted me. AS I crumpled against the wall, I got a feel for my competition, trying to decide who I think I could actually beat in what appeared to be a Battle Royale style fight. There weren't many with figures like two of the former Three Kings, Yomi and Mukuro, and Urameshi himself alongside his gaggle of friends from the Dark Tournament. A swell of nausea passes over me and I nearly black out for a second before finally regaining my bearings and climbing to my feet to get in line.

Hulking creatures tower over me on every side as I wait to draw my lot. To calm my nerves I list all the things I could have going for me in a fight. Basic hand-to-hand combat training from bar brawls. Handy with my set of six daggers. Not entirely pitiful spirit energy, like some of my competitors. And most importantly, I'm fast. If I try I should be able to dodge my own death for as long as possible depending on my competitors.

Mukuro steps up to draw his lot. Then a short demon about my height, whose name I remember starts with an "H" and used to fight with Urameshi. He gets group five. It continues like this, with me tuning in and out of the drawings until it's my turn. Group 5.

So I'm up against Mukuro's right hand man. I'm so screwed.

I walk over to hang on the edges of Urameshi's friends and watch them laugh and enjoy each other's company, genuinely thrilled to be there about to fight each other. And for a moment I get the crazy urge to walk up to them and act like I belong among them. I can see it clear as day in my mind. I walk over and toss friendly smile at all the boys. Chu calls me Sheila and asks what I'm doing there. And I'll be charismatic and act like I belong and in seconds I'll become one of them, laughing, joking about the upcoming fights. And I'm hit by such a wave of jealousy for this girl in my head who so naturally fits in, that I nearly tear up through the stoic façade, which I know I have firmly in place. Realizing the danger of such thoughts, I throw one final glance at the group of laughing boys and go to the area to wait to be transported to the arenas in the sky.

I expected to be alone once more but instead find Mukuro's short friend conversing with a boy with penetrating green eyes and long red hair. My heart gives a nervous lea at the beauty of the two creatures before me. So utterly different in appearance and stature, yet clearly close in some way. It feels unusual for me to notice beauty in this ugly world on what is sure to be an ugly day, but I do and it captivates me for a flicker of a moment. I silence my steps as I approach, but apparently not quick enough to go unnoticed, as both men turn to me ready to unsheathe their weapons. I level my gaze at them, careful to keep my eyes blank. The darker haired one glares, while the red head clears his throat in the silence that follows their noticing me. Though before he can say anything, the darker haired one cuts him off. "Weak filth, get out of here. We're talking."

A part of me says let it go, but I know I won't as I recognize my voice responding. "Last time I checked this wasn't a reserved area for you and your friend," I say, putting a suggestive emphasize on the word friend, causing both men to bristle at my insinuation. "And it's not like I'm spying, just getting away from the hordes of actual filth."

The shorter one grunts in response, but the red-haired man speaks up. "I apologize. I'm Kurama and this is Hiei and we were just leaving, so the space is all yours," he says politely with a slight inclination of his head and no indication that he cares. Both men stalk off and I find myself leaning against a wall, considering the contrasting beauty of the cold Kurama and the belligerent Hiei. After all, do I not deserve some beauty on my final day?