Hope

The street lamp shone brightly, illuminating the stark structure in its warm glow. Within it's worn walls the old building told the story of hope and loneliness. The orphanage seemed to belie the brilliant neon lights that blinked out the stars and the sleek architecture of it's neighboring structures. But it had stood there for many years and would do so for many more to come.

A small child with short messy silver hair curled up on the thin mattress of the orphanage listening to the other children's breaths as they slept. His body was in so much pain, though, that sleep would not claim him. He was at least glad that he was away from them, the ones who left his body bruised and sore.

Hikaru refused to cry, yelp, or make any sudden movement to show he was in pain despite the fact that he was. The last beating was the worst he had experienced and the only thing that kept him from shedding any tears was the fear that he would be beat even further for that. So he gritted his teeth, and held his tears in his eyes.

However, his mind wandered to the words of the nurses and orderlies and even the other children. They had never laid their eyes on such a creature. He had small dog like ears atop his head, vampire like fangs, and graceful claw like fingers with unnaturally long fingernails. Yet those features made him a jewel in a pot of coal. He was rare, the product of the love of a human and a youkai.

With strangely vibrant eyes the color of blue topaz and translucent skin, he could be described as beautiful or even angelic. The child could not fathom going through life without his keen sense of smell or sensitive hearing. Somehow somewhere deep down inside, he knew he was supposed to be this way and someday everything would be clear.

"Please find me," Hikaru whispered, calling out to the Kami, the spirits of the world. "Take me to where I belong." He often felt their presence on his skin, comforting him in his pain. Yet despite his suffering, his faith in the Kami did not waver despite the cruel words of his new guardians.

Hikaru was not sure what hurt more, the beatings or the words. Although he had never met anyone quite like him, he did not consider himself deformed as the doctors so clearly described. After all, he had been born this way and was not the least bit hampered by it.

Painfully, Hikaru rolled over on his side and squeezed his eyes shut willing himself not to cry. Crying only led to more bruises. He hoped that someone or something heard his call.