Ever since I was young, I heard various people say the same thing.
That I was someone born of sin.
That I shouldn't have been allowed to exist.
People sneered at the very idea that I was born.
They abhorred the fact that I was even allowed to live.
Of course, they didn't know it was me, and most likely shared their opinion of the general idea, but that didn't mean it hurt any less.
Eventually, I accepted their words as truth, and conditioned myself to hide how much those words hurt.
There were few kids my age in the area.
Of course, because of their circumstances, they had to play it tough.
They were also very territorial, and they disliked it when people like me trespassed upon their territory.
Whenever I stumbled upon them, I usually returned with bruises and cuts.
Makino would always treat them.
I dreaded to think what those kids would do when they found out who I really was.
To the world, I was a monster.
I would never belong anywhere.
I was an outcast.
Therefore, I was very suprised when I found people I could call my family fourteen years later.
I was still an outcast to the society at large.
But so were they.
We were happy outcasts together.
And even though I didn't want them to, a part of me was happy that they would stand beside me when the world wanted me dead.
