Author's Notes: It's been awhile since I've last submitted something on this site. Hur hur. Computer problems, school problems, basic life problems, that sort of thing. Well, I wrote this sometime over the summer... Why I didn't submit it then I'm not quite sure. Maybe because I'm not too fond of it. The whole purpose of this little thing was practicing with first-person point of view. Up to this point I've primarily been using third-person omniscient in my writing, and I wanted to try something different. This takes place when Inu-Yasha is only a widdle one. I wrote it before I saw the third movie, of course, so ya know, it's not accurate, but I don't really care about that. I might continue it, might not. If I do it will only be when I have a lack of something better to do or happen to be stuck in everything else. Well, uh, enjoy!

Inu-Yasha the Small

I keep trying to tell myself it ain't worth it. But every time I do, the urge to keep at it just gets stronger. I'm not sure why, but it's what I want. And I'm gonna get it, whether I really want it or if I'm just fooling myself.

Either way, it's pretty hard to reach. There are a bunch of enemies in the way, and I'm the shortest one in the bunch. If they decided to gang up on me, I'd have no chance. But even though I know this, it doesn't quite register in my mind. I run forward regardless of any peril, dashing my way through in a zig-zagged line between my opponents, who lunge and attempt to grab me. Okay, maybe being short was a good thing, because it seems to be my advantage so far. I'm quicker than they are. Much quicker. It frustrates them pretty bad, too.

I cackle meanly at them and head toward my goal at full speed. Nothing's gonna stop me now, no-siree. I'm on a—

"AAAARRRRGGGHHH! YOU MEANIE! WHADJA DO THAT FOR!" One of the guys had tripped me, causing me to drop the ball I had in my possession. Another guy took it and threw it at my head. The pain seemed to sting and vibrate throughout my skull; it began to throb in my ears. It had been so forceful, water flooded my eyes immediately. I couldn't help it. I blinked and started crying. With it came quickly-inhaled gasps and sobs. In anger, I picked up the ball next to me and shot it at the guy who had thrown it at my head. He caught it and waved it at me with a jeering smirk.

"Aawww," he said in mock-adoration. "Is the widdle half-bweed cwying because he wants his bawwy back?"

"NO!" I insisted, trying (in vain) to stop the tears. "I'm cr-crying because y-you hit m-m-me! AND IT HURTS!"

"Oh, boo hoo!" the guy used one arm to hold the ball and the other to pretend to wipe tears from his eyes. "It hurt so bad, didn't it? I thought demons were supposed to be tolerant to pain. Oh, but wait, you're only half-demon! That explains it! How silly of me!" He tossed the ball to his friend on the other side of me.

"You know, Jiro," said his friend, looking skeptical, "it probably isn't good to pick on him like that. If his mother finds out, she'll be mad."

"Aw, who cares?" Jiro scoffed. "It's her fault for breeding with a demon in the first place. What was your father, anyway, kid? A cat demon?"

"A dog demon," I answered bitterly. "He was a great dog demon... the leader of the clan."

Jiro rolled his eyes and took the ball from his buddy. "I suppose that makes you some kind of royalty or something, huh?"

I didn't answer to him this time. Instead, I stared at my feet and mumbled obscenities describing how I thought of this obnoxious big kid. Sure, he was older than me, he was bigger than me, but he was just jealous. Jealous because I was stronger, I was faster, and despite how taboo my birth was, I came from an honorable family with an honorable title. He heard me muttering and his face grew red with anger.

"Where'd a kid like you learn how to talk like that!" he asked in a harsh tone. "Kids like you shouldn't be talking like that, especially not to people like me. People who can crush you whenever they feel like it!" He took a couple of steps forward, looming over me and blocking the sun's light from my eyes, causing him to appear bigger and more menacing than he really was. I only looked at him for about three seconds, then let my head flop back down, chin on my chest. I was in no mood to deal with this kind of stuff; at the mention of being a half-breed, I suddenly felt withdrawn and alone. Unwanted and different. I had the feeling I wasn't fit for this village, being around these people. They were human. They were sociable. They enjoyed each other's company and worked together as one people. Then I came along, someone with demon blood, and I ruined the order of the village.

Many a time I would walk down the worn roads, watching all the merchants and farmers and workers and men and ladies doing their stuff, and they would turn and look at me and frown. I wasn't meant to be here, because I didn't look like them, I had different qualities than they did, and apparently, something about my presence disturbed them, because some wrinkled their noses (my mother bathed me every other night; I knew I couldn't stink that bad... Well, unless that day I decided to play around in the mud...), and others just walked away as soon as I came near. At first I was confused, and I asked my mother about it. She was hesitant in answering, but she told me it was because they just weren't used to me. This confused me even more. And later, a group of kids just like the ones I was playing with now started calling me names. That's when I begged my mother to tell me the real truth.

"Mama, what's a half-breed?"

Disliking that he had been ignored, Jiro kicked me in the ribs to try and get me to 'fess up. I let out a small whimper in surprise, but otherwise didn't react. I was thinking about that time I asked my mother about half-breeds...

She had looked at me for a long time with tears in her eyes, and pulled me into her arms in that affectionate, protective way she used to hold me. And then, after a while more, she began explaining to me how my father had been a demon and not a human like she was, and how their union caused me to be both. I was stuck in between the two species, with features of both human and demon, but never the full-blooded qualities of either. She mentioned I would have as much trouble fitting in with demons as I did trying to fit in with humans, but other half-breeds like me were few and far between, because it wasn't right in the social hierarchy of either species to correlate. I asked her then why she did it, why did she and my father decide to have a child, and then she grew silent again, for a longer period of time.

I was just about to fall asleep in her arms when she said, "We loved each other, Inu-Yasha. And we wanted a child to prove our love to the world. Isn't that reason enough?" I nodded sleepily. Mother was always telling me how when you love someone, you want to be with them and make them happy, protecting them from harm whenever you have the chance... and even when you don't have the chance. She said that love is a powerful thing... By the end of her explanation, she kissed me on the forehead and I looked up at her to see a liquid shining on her cheeks in long thin streams. That was the first time I had ever seen my mother cry.

Of course, the concept of love is still vague to me. I'm only a few years older than I was back then. In truth, it sounded kind of stupid... Doing so much just to make somebody else happy... But whatever. That was my parents' reason for having me. If only other people understood that.

The kid Jiro was getting more and more flustered the longer I continued to ignore him. This time, to show his anger with me, he kicked me in the stomach. I fell onto my back in surprise, coughing from the sudden lack of air in my lungs. Above me, his face was scowling and mean. He even bore his teeth a little. Then, just like that, he and his friends left me there in the dirt, taking my ball with them. I sat up and watched them leave, panting a little.

Truth was, other people could never be able to understand my parents' reason for having me. To them I was just a lousy mutt: harmless, but just as much of a nuisance. Maybe they had hidden fears. Maybe they were afraid that when I was grown, I would attack their village. Or maybe they just hated me for not being fully human, for being a child of taboo as though it was my fault I was born. Whatever the reason, the villagers' attitude toward me did not help prevent my own attitude from becoming bitter the more I realized how unwanted I was.

I stood up and walked home, my red robe covered in spots of brown dust.

END