An/ okay, I don't know what to do in one of these, so I'll make it short. I update weekly, usually on Mondays or Fridays. I can be bribed with super-cute pics of Inuyasha and Hiei and Kurama from Yu Yu Hakusho, though. Thanks. Enjoy.

Daily life was okay in the Taisho household. There was enough food, water, and room for the two of them, but there were injustices too. It wasn't fair for Inu no' Taisho to die in a fire, leaving his grieving wife to care for her three year old son alone, in a world where they could never be accepted. It wasn't fair that they were struggling for the hold in their own lives, and it definatly wasn't fair that her son, Inuyasha, now only seven years old was just so different from all the other kids his age.

Iyaoi Taisho had known from the beginning that her son would be ridiculed by his classmates for his unusual looks. Children didn't like what they couldn't understand, so he was labeled, "the beast," and "ugly". Sometimes the more creative kids thought up worse names than that. But Inuyasha was a beautiful boy, in an ethereal kind of beauty that shone from the inside out. When he smiled, he lit up a room, when he laughed, she could imagine music.

Iyaoi loved her son, there was no doubt about that, but at times, he was just too much to handle.

"Mother," he began, in his child-like voice," can we please play now, please? Please mother, please."

Iyaoi, currently sitting at the kitchen table, a pile of bills in front of her, turned to her son, a stressed look on her face. "Can't you play with some of the boys down the street?" she asked pleadingly, trying to hold the phone to her by her shoulder, while sorting through the seemingly endless stack of papers in front of her.

Inuyasha pouted, then mumbled, "They don't like me. Can't I please play with you?" He put on his best puppy-dog face, which was usually un-surprisingly effective, as his ears were doggy ears, white and fuzzy on the top of his head.

They were unsuccessful on his mother though, as she had finally found whatever she was looking for, and hadn't seen his sad face. "Then can't you just- oh, hello. This is Iyaoi Taisho, and I was calling to check on my bank account status… yes, it's 30290963...yes…," she spoke into the phone, turning away from her down-hearted son, who simply walked away.

Kicking about one of the infinite amount of pebbles and rocks that bordered the small front lawn, his head downcast, Inuyasha began mumbling to himself in an angry tone. Without lifting his head, he watched it skip down the road from the force of his kick. Satisfied with the distance the small rock went, he kicked another, then another.

"It's not fair. Stupid bills. Bill's always takin' up Mother's time for me. Got no one to play with, no one likes me," he grumbled. -kick- "wish there was no more bills, people, nothing! Just Mother and me." -kick- Frowning that the pebble only bounced a few yards, the small boy raced after it and pulled back his foot back to strike.

Suddenly finding himself off balance, the ground came up to meet him in a painful embrace. Grumbling still, he rolled off his scraped knee to check to damage. Although it was bleeding freely, not a single tear fell to his cheek.

He couldn't feel pain, or at least not much of it. Falling down and scraping his knees was like falling down on a padded rug, a dull thump. The bigger kids at school had said it was because his nerve-endings didn't reach the skin, not that he had understood them at all.

Mother had said it was because he was special, and that was all that mattered. What made him special was vague, and never specified or mentioned, not that he cared. In his mind, everyone who didn't have silky, silver hair, and fuzzy, white, triangular doggy ears wasn't special; except Mother, of course.

Sitting in the gravel, he watched the scrapes heal over, another thing that set him apart from the rest of the world, and in a minute, was up again.

The numerous cuts and scrapes he received daily would always heal within minutes, depending on the size and depth. He didn't know why, he was just special.

Without skipping a beat, he began his rock-kicking game again. -kick-. -kick-. -kick-. With each new rock, the distance increased, until it went sailing over the neighbor's house. A crash like glass breaking was heard shortly after.

Not wanting to be caught and punished, he turned and fled, full force, up into the safety of his room.

An/ poor inu. well, 3 reviews will make a happy author. Don't you love how a child can create a simple game to distract themselves from the harsh world?

Ja ne.