A/N:
Hi! This is my first fanfic, so I'm really nervous, but I hope that people will read this and enjoy. I'm still an amateur writer, but I hope to get better, so any reviews or constructive criticism will be much appreciated!
Also, if Izayoi seems OOC in this chapter, it's 'cos he's still young, and little kids act differently from teenagers, right?
Chapter 1
They'd left him in the orphanage, dumped him there like he was trash, even though they'd promised to be there for him. And it hurt, it really, really hurt, damn it.
And he wanted to pretend it was okay, he wanted to not cry, but he didn't know how, and it was just no fair, because they had promised. They had promised, even signed all the dumb contracts and everything, and then they'd left him all alone, and excuse him if it hurt like hell and his eyes stung and he wanted to cry. Excuse him for being sad and lonely since everyone looked at him like he was some sort of monster, some sort of trash, even though they played and talked and laughed nicely with everyone else. It wasn't like it was perfectly justified that he had wanted a family and people to be kind to him, instead of this - this loneliness and emptiness and hollowness that stemmed from having absolutely no idea what to do to fix things and why these things were even happening in the first place.
Because it hurt, damn it. It hurt so, so much, even if he was considered a nuisance, a problem child, a monster, a terrifying, less than human thing.
(Or perhaps he was more than human, and that was why everyone was afraid of him.)
At the very least, he was something not entirely human, and apparently non-humans were not entitled to things that humans typically wanted, needed, desired or craved. They were apparently not entitled to feeling, or caring, or wanting things.
Which, in Izayoi's opinion, was total bullcrap.
Because it hurt, it freaking hurt, his heart aching and tattered as if the net the people had used to catch his heart had pulled against it and tore through the flesh, tightening around the raw, bleeding appendage as Izayoi clutched at his chest and slumped against the door. He was crying, warm tears trickling down his face and dripping slowly off his chin. He wanted to know what it was like, to be able to laugh like the rest of the children when they played together, what it was like to smile up at people who cared and wanted nothing but the best for you.
Resting his head against the hard wood of the door, Izayoi's mouth opened, his lips parting in a silent scream, a wail of rage and pain that would never be heard by anyone in the world as his tears poured down his cheeks and soaked the collar of his shirt.
I hate this.
I hate this.
I hate this.
I hate this stupid world.
It was so hollow, so empty and meaningless and absolutely boring. The blocks clicked against each other as he built them up, forming a beautiful, multicoloured masterpiece that tumbled down at a sweep of his hand. He'd been placed in this room because he'd been fighting with some other kid, who'd been mean first, but somehow, as ever, Izayoi had been blamed and punished, and locked in the stupid, boring room with nothing but a box of bricks, which he stacked and knocked over in a long, boring, repetitive cycle, eyes staring blankly and absently as his mind wandered.
He'd been in five homes had so far, and two orphanages, and he'd stopped hurting as soon as he'd learnt to stop trusting, and stop allowing the tempting warmth of a family snag his heart. Once he had done that, they had had no net to hold him down with, nothing to hold his heart or hurt it, just as Izayoi liked. He felt so much freer now, because he could do anything, absolutely anything he wanted to do, and nobody could do anything to stop him. He could help himself to sweets in shops, and food when there wasn't enough to go around in the orphanage. He could brawl with anyone he wanted, anytime, and play with anyone he could find.
And right then, he thought, standing up and walking to the door that separated him and the rest of the orphanage, he could simply break down the door and leave. Smirking much too devilishly for a child only four, Izayoi drew back a fist and slammed it into the door, feeling the wood crack and splinter under his knuckles as the door bent in from the impact with a loud crunching, splintering sound. With a loud bang, it fell away from it's frame and Izayoi smiled, strolling out to grin at those who had come running to investigate the noise.
It did not hurt. It didn't hurt at all that they were staring at him like he was a monster, that their eyes were filled with pure, unadulterated fear or that they were all trembling, the adults leading the children away from 'that freak'.
Not at all. They did not hold his heart, and so he did not feel pain.
Instead, Izayoi laughed, a loud, hearty, scornful laugh, and ran. He turned and ran for the door of the orphanage, smiling and laughing and grinning, eyes sparkling like gems as he tasted freedom on his tongue. It was fall, the leaves piled under the trees in brilliant, multicoloured heaps and crunched under his bare feet. The ground was dry and cool, if a little rough, and the air was crisp and clean. Wind swept his messy blonde hair from his face, and he laughed.
It was a strange sound, carefree and scornful and empty all at the same time. And his smile was hateful, a mix of strange glee and angry bitterness.
And as his laugh and smile showed, Izayoi was empty. He was hollow, empty, and so angry at the world and all its inhabitants.
He held no attachments, no bonds, and nothing could hurt him. He'd been stupid as a kid, given his heart to people who'd cruelly and mercilessly crushed it, taking the bonds he'd trusted them with and turning them into chains that bit into his heart.
But no more. Never again. People were stupid, they were cruel, manipulative, and ostracised those who were different. And they had hurt him one too many times.
He didn't need people anyway - why would he? All his problems were easily solved, and while his solutions may not always be legal, at least they were viable.
It didn't occur to Izayoi that he was only four, and that four-year olds were still children, practically babies, and were supposed to be looked after, probably because nobody had ever really looked after him, and being so intelligent at such a young age made him even more aware and understanding of the cruelty of people and the world. His abilities were more of a curse than a blessing, really, but Izayoi refused to think of that, since because of them, he was able to do anything he wanted.
He hated, sincerely, wholeheartedly, hated the world, which had hurt him and chained him and brought him down too many times. It was such a horrid place, where even the firmest, most earnest promises could crumble with a touch, a single word, where contracts and alliances could not be believed because people simply could not be bothered to keep their word and the contracts, the alliances always, always had a loophole.
Either they had a loophole, or people simply broke them outright.
And he was lonely, so, so lonely, so hollow and empty and meaningless, and everyone looked upon him as a monster, a freak, everyone looked at him like he wasn't a human being, but a tool or a creature to be shunned.
He supposed that this emptiness, this hollowness he felt stemmed from boredom as well, but that was easily solved - he'd just go brawl with some drunkards or someone, or steal something just for the fun of it.
And for the duration of his game, if the game was good enough, most of that hollowness and emptiness really did leave him.
So he made his goal 'to have fun', since the people in the world were all greedy jerks, and Izayoi didn't care anymore.
If he was going to be lonely, he'd get used to it and move on, and get rid of every ounce of his boredom by playing with this stupid world.
Who were his real, biological parents? What were their names, their faces, their personalities? How had they sounded, and where had they lived? Izayoi did not know, and he didn't care anyway. The younger children in the orphanages always seemed to harbour the hope that there had simply been a mistake, that their parents hadn't wanted to leave them and were still out there, searching desperately for their little lost baby. They dreamt of mothers and fathers, of more than enough food, warm homes, loving hugs and exchanges. They dreamt of being picked up by a loving couple who'd been searching for their child for years, who would play with them and bring them to the park and buy sweets and toys and give them all the love and attention children craved.
Izayoi held no such illusions.
His parents had wanted him? They'd been searching for him for years? Laughable. Completely, utterly laughable. They had wanted a child like him?
Such a disgusting lie.
Who would want him? Who would want a monster like him? He was destined to live a lonely life, and Izayoi could accept that. He could take that loneliness, he could get used to it, and he could live on. He had made that resolution when he was but four years old, and at six, Izayoi had been living it out to the best of his ability.
Parents are people you can rely on? People who will look after you and give you all the love and attention you need?
Izayoi already knew that he could not rely on anyone but himself. Humans were fragile, easily broken by words or shattered by a touch. A good punch from Izayoi, and they'd just die.
Izayoi knew. He'd seen.
Humans were also cruel, hurtful and traitorous, willing to lie and cheat and betray to achieve their ends.
Trust them? How? How did one trust the creatures that lied and betrayed and held ulterior motives in every plan, every deal?
He did not trust people, he did not rely on them, nor did he hold the false hope that they would ever want him. It did not occur to him that he was far too young to be that distrustful, because it was all he knew, all he'd been raised on - the fact that no matter what they said or did, people could not be trusted and the world was full of chaos.
But that was fine too, Izayoi thought, as he bore his loneliness and faced the world, grin firmly in place.
It may be a stupid, cruel, crappy place, and he may hate it, but there was no reason not to have fun with it.
Izayoi laughed, casting his cares to the wind as he ran across the rooftops. Who cared what people would say? Who cared about hiding his abilities? People would talk all the same, so he might as well have fun.
Having fun. That was all his goal was. He didn't need people's love, and he didn't need people to accept him. Izayoi didn't need a family or a home - he'd gotten far too used to being lonely and alone, until that empty, hollow pain became his constant companion, and he could live with it. He was nine now, and had been tossed from one foster home to another, one orphanage to the next, for his whole life - more than long enough to learn that nobody would want him, and that he didn't need anyone anyway. It had become a never-ending cycle: Out to a foster home, back to the orphanage, off to another foster home, back to the orphanage. Repeat until the orphanage got sick of him, and then off to another orphanage.
It was to be expected. All the people who adopted him had done so in hopes of using his amazing, superhuman abilities for their own gain. They had been swindlers, tax evaders, thieves, drug dealers - all sorts of them. There had actually been one promising home - a couple that had put up with him for nearly four months, and Izayoi had thought that he wouldn't mind being used by them. But they had disappointed him like all the rest, and sent him back a while later. In retaliation, Izayoi had released evidence of their crimes to the television and media, smirking happily as they were convicted. After that, he had resolved to crush anyone who tried to use him, no matter how promising, but this meant that word of the "problem child that got all of his foster parents arrested" spread. Things had gotten so bad that he was kicked from one orphanage to another within one foster home returning him, some orphanages simply shipping him off to another orphanage almost as soon as he arrived. He had been to multiple cities in Japan, and at least fourteen different schools. In each, the teachers had judged him unpredictable, very confident, and uncontrollable, a description in which he revelled.
No one could predict what he was going to do, no one could catch him, no one could control him. He would never let them snag him, never let them hold his heart the way his foster parents had. They had caught his heart and hurt it, had betrayed his trust over and over, until he hadn't been able to stand it anymore.
Izayoi was better off on his own.
His confidence was the result of years of relying on no one but himself - people could not be trusted. He knew that he didn't need anyone to support him, because when he had thought that he needed help, when his heart had been tattered and bleeding and hurting something fierce, when warm and salty tears had been pouring down his face, when he had been hidden in his room stifling sobs, he had been pleading desperately for somebody to save him, to help him from that pain - he'd been only three. But nobody had come, and nobody had helped. They had just kept hurting him, and he had realised that it was so dumb of him to want help from people who would never give it to him. He had never needed it anyway, and once he realised that, Izayoi had learnt how to deal with everything by himself.
It was a confidence gained from the lack of fear which stemmed from having the most terrifying, horrible thing you could ever imagine thrown at you and surviving it all on your own. A lack of fear that comes with the knowledge that your worst fear has been already confirmed, and that there is nothing that can hurt you worse than you have already been, because you have nothing left to lose.
Because really, what's worse than being forced to accept that there is probably no one who will give a damn about you, forced to accept that the people you'd given your heart to wanted nothing more but to use you as a tool to accomplish their selfish goals?
He had nothing left to fear, because he no longer had anything, and if you do not own anything, you cannot lose anything.
And he while he was still a little lonely, Izayoi was so much happier now; with no fears or dependence on others, he was free to live how he liked.
It was exhilarating, running across rooftops with wind whipping in his ears. The brief moment of weightlessness as he leapt from one building to another made him feel like he was flying. Flipping stones into lakes and watching pillars of water erupt amused him to no end, and if he got really bored, Izayoi would go to town and brawl with some drunkards or something.
But on some days, like that one, he ran off to a nice field a few dozen kilometres away - no problem with his speed - and lay on his back among the grass and flowers, gazing at the sky and allowing his mind to wander.
It didn't hurt, he told himself, that he had only been adopted to be used as a tool. What mattered was that the people who had wanted to use him had been unable to use him well. It was no fun, and he had better things to do with his time that follow their lame orders, only to discover that they had no concrete plan. He hadn't liked those people, not at all, and his heart did not hurt because they had cast him away again. His heart was only clenching this way because he was too bored, he told himself. It had been so boring being used by those people, that he had exposed their crimes just to amuse himself after they had wanted to send him back.
It was merely vengeance, because they had wasted his time with all that mind numbing boredom and then wanted to send him away without letting him have any fun. Their lousy minds could just go rot in prison, Izayoi thought, grinning. Perhaps he would pay them a visit, just to laugh at their pathetic state. He had been so stupid as a kid, letting the foster families use him and prancing around for them like a dog, just for them to send him back. He had wanted to expose the fifth family, but he had no evidence, and that was when they had found out they had kicked him back into the orphanage, with the excuse that he was too uncontrollable and was always getting into fights. Nobody would listen to him unless he shoved the evidence right under their noses, and it had infuriated him. Now though, it was simply tedious, an all too easy ritual of gathering the evidence and bringing it to the station. Although, it was an easy way to make money, and Izayoi had gathered quite a hefty sum.
With that, he stood, dusting himself off, and headed back to the orphanage. There was another foster family coming today, and Izayoi hoped that they would at least be interesting, and pose even the smallest challenge when he tried to expose them. The thought that the couple might want to adopt him as a child never crossed his mind - nobody ever adopted him for anything other than to use him.
In turn, he would crush them and expose their crimes. To Izayoi, it was nothing but a never ending, boring game.
The number of interesting, fun games had suffered a serious decline over the years, as Izayoi had learnt more and outgrown the old, boring games he'd once enjoyed, or at least found acceptable.
It was becoming harder to relieve that hollowness and emptiness of boredom.
"Geez. What a boring world."