Disclaimer: I do not own Shaman King. I do not own its context and characters. Format based on FLIPPED.

IMPORTANT: I OWN the series of poetry you will see throughout the story. I wrote them, and I own them. No stealing, please.

Maybe contain OOCness-ness.

Ren…

It's so close, I can taste it.

It's sweet yet bitter scent

Makes me long for it more.

My mind drives for it.

Reach, reach for it.

I touch it with my bare fingertips.

Its coldness bursts through my vulnerable body.

I lay there crippled by its power.

I wanted to cry for help.

To cry for my loved ones.

When a single devastating thought told me

I had but none.

Instead I start to laugh.

The reason is unclear.

I laughed at those who threw me,

Laughed at everything.

My lonely soul escapes my shell,

Slowly make its way to you.

"How come you never cared,

loved me, or cried for me?"

You sit there dazed.

My words mean nothing.

You laugh at my face.

"Who ever would?" you say.

I've had enough, why listen more.

My only possession is at last stolen too.

Without a body, a mind, a soul,

Where am I go but Hell?

"Who ever would?" you say...

I put down my pencil and lean back in my chair. I'm so close to crying, I can already taste it. As I sit and blink back my already running tears, I close my notebook and hide it away. My hiding place has been the same for many years. Inside my pillowcase, where I can always feel it, and is the last thing I think of when I sleep. This book is important, and must not reach another soul. This book contains bits and pieces of me that I don't want anybody to know. Not to mention it has been written in for the past two years.

I've just come back from En. What a useless soul he is. He doesn't know how to separate bug from insect. But he knows enough to disgrace me. To make me miserable.

I was walking today downtown. It is never peaceful there; just like me. Always some sort of trouble is afoot. There are always gang fights, and police everywhere chasing them. They have no lives. Besides, to watch people running and fighting isn't the reason I am out here. I'm visiting the only hospital in town … which happened to be located in a very inconvenient spot. I am visiting my mother. She's blind, not to mention sick. She left our place to the hospital about 2 years ago … sound familiar? Yeah, that's when I started writing. My mother is blind and loosing memory. She used to ask me who I was, what I did to her son, and if I killed him. She threw a pot at me once … she has no aim. She still asks me who I am, but there are no pots to throw at the hospital.

So I entered my mom's room, and I saw something I've never seen before. Or, someone, I suppose. It's was some girl sitting at the edge of my mother's bed, talking. Don't ask, but I got a weird feeling. Like she was some threat.

Pirika …

I was having a totally good time, talking to this blind woman. We were talking about flowers, when suddenly, I feel a shove! Obviously, I yell, "What do you think you are doing?" I receive no answer. All I hear is a male voice, "Who are you?"

I put my hands on my hips, put on a … look … and say, "I asked first!" And, and, do you know what I hear? He tells me that I'm being childish! He also includes the fact that I'm some stupid baby that got lost … or something like that. But that's the end of our conversation because I don't like being near people like him. Jerks. I give the woman the flower and stomp off. At the lobby, my brother Horo Horo is waiting for me.

Normal …

"What about some ice cream?" Horo handed his sister a half melted cone.

"No thanks. I'm not in the mood." Pirika put her arm through Horo's. "Let's just go home."

"Uh, okay Pirika … but can I have your cone?" This received a laugh from his sister.

"Yeah. You can have it Horo."

Ren …

I don't like people being near my mother. I asked her who she was, and she starts yelling for no reason. "I asked first!" she says to me. How lame. Even when I was a toddler, I did not say such things. I tell her that while she stands there, then leaves. Oh, she gave my mother some flower before she left. What does she think she is? I turn my attention back to my mother who is there holding the flower with a weird look plastered on her face. I slowly take the flowers away from her, but she grabs onto them.

"No! No! My daughter gave these to me! Go away you thief!" she barks at me. I step back in surprise, and let go of the flowers.

"You don't have a daughter." I casually remind her.

"Yes! Yes I do! You're the killer that has come to kill me and my daughter! Police!" she starts moving frantically around in her bed, and knocks down photographs and a vase down. I don't really mind. She can't see them anyways.

"I'm your son. Remember?" I say it real slow for her, but she doesn't clam down.

"I don't HAVE a son!"

"Yes you do, mother." I breathe.

"No! No! No! I don't have a son! I hate you! Go away!" she's crying … and I think I am crying too. It's been two years since she has denied my existence. Two years of not having my old mother. Two years of discrimination, suffering, and hating. My mother hates me. She wants me to go away. So I do.

R&R … I prefer no flames … but if you must … go ahead I suppose. Keep them on the polite side.