Chapter 1

[March]

The weather outside was wet and rainy, but that didn't seem to bother the small figure hunched up on the railing. He was leaned back against a column running up to the porch roof, eyes shut; he seemed to be lost deep in thought. A book was open in his hands, but he hadn't so much as glanced at it since he took a seat on his perch.

One eye snapped open at the sound of footsteps on the stairs leading up the porch and a cool gaze assessed the graceful movements of a slender redhead. The other eye opened as well as the boy began to process and store the information he took in as the person mounted the steps.

Long, red hair; tall, but not too much so; poor fashion sense -who matches hideous pink and green anyway?- hidden under an unzipped jacket; pale, unblemished skin; face hidden under a mass of bangs. This person looked frail and breakable; as if they were underfed, and the boy on the railing wasn't sure at first glance if it was a man or a woman.

"Excuse me."

His thoughts were cut short when the individual noticed him and he buried his nose in the book, filing away the most recently gathered bits of information. Polite; soft spoken; most definitely a man.

"Excuse me?" The gentle voice prodded again.

Scowling, he looked up, gaze meeting twin emeralds which shone from beneath that mass of flaming hair. Green eyes were fixed on him intently as their owner waited for a reply. The man's stare was unwavering as if he were unconcerned with the death glare being shot in his direction. "What?" The boy spat out the question as if it were acid on his tongue.

"Can you tell me if Joumu-san is in?" Came the redhead's reply. He smiled politely at the boy perched on the railing, easily ignoring his frosty glare and dismissing it as nothing but infantile hostility. The youth looked as if he couldn't be more than twelve or thirteen; he was small and wiry, hidden away in black clothing, his face childish and his eyes surprisingly innocent, if one could look past the hardened front he presented. His black hair was wild and untamed, sticking up all over the place; a white headband kept it out of his face.

"What's it to you?" The boy snarled, continuing to stare at the unruffled young man. He decided then and there that he didn't like the stranger's condescending tone; it had sounded as if the man was speaking to a child. Him; a child. Ha! One more year and he'd be out of that hell-hole forever.

"I am here to see him about offering my services." The smile remained, unwavering, as the man offered what he deemed a satisfactory explanation, "Is he here? Or should I come back some other time?"

"Hell if I know." Came a surly retort.

Green eyes shut momentarily, then opened again and focused on the unfriendly young man. He wasn't too surprised that the boy was so bad-tempered; many kids who were not placed in homes, sadly, wound up rather angry and spiteful towards the world. It was natural that this boy was distrusting and wary; he must have seen wave upon wave of prospective parents parade through the doors and pass him by. "I can see you are going to be of very little help. I'll just let myself in then." That even voice sounded slightly weary and one hand ran through the red hair, pushing it from the emerald eyes and freeing his view, "Sorry to have bothered you."

A snort was the only response as the boy turned his narrowed eyes back down to the book in his hands. Forced or false apologies were not to be tolerated by him; he had been given too many of them in his seventeen years of existence. Feigning indifference, he watched as the young man made his way across the porch and to the front door. He was probably married to some equally young woman and they were looking to adopt a child. A baby, most likely, and if not a small child. No one -and certainly not some one who looked to be so young- would ever want a ill-natured teenager. He had come to that conclusion years ago.

He shifted restlessly.

If that man really was going to look over all the children at the orphanage, they would probably force him inside to make an appearance. They would demand he be present, even though every one knew he would never get adopted. It was too late in the game for that and, if this young man had any sense at all, he would never even consider it. But, due to excessive grief the boy gave the orphanage staff, he was forced to sit through the screening of hopeful soon-to-be-parents. He supposed it was their way of getting revenge for all the trouble he gave them and he hated them even more for it.

Sure enough, one of the smaller kids came running out onto the porch moments later. She was one of the only children brave enough to approach the boy; she gave off the air that nothing scared her. "You need to come in now." She said, her childish voice firm, "They want us all there while the pretty guy looks around."

She received a grunt in response.

"You have to come in." Small hands perched on undeveloped hips and pursed lips stuck out in a pout, "They want you to." Stressing the word they, it was almost as if she was trying to sound menacing, as if he would be frightened and come in. "You know the rules."

"I'm not going in." He muttered offhandedly, his gaze still fixed on the book. He hadn't read a single word on the page since he'd first looked at it, but hiding behind the guise of reading was easier than having to deal with people. Especially the idiots who seemed to think they knew what was "best" for him.

"You'll get in trouble."

Threatening him with punishment for insubordination. He rolled his eyes. This was a tactic that would have worked well if he was about ten years younger and a complete moron. There was nothing the social workers and staff could do to him that hadn't been done before, so there was no point in bullying him with retributions. Her statement was easily ignored.

Sighing, the little girl ran back into the house. Even she at age eight was smart enough to know when to give up.

He sighed as well, although out of irritation rather than frustration, and closed the book. Setting it down on the railing, he leaned back against the column once more, drawing his knees up to his chest. This whole situation would only get worse before it got better.

Inside the house, the redhead was shaking hands with Joumu Hiro, the director of the orphanage. Joumu was an older man with graying hair and warm blue eyes. He had a grandfatherly appearance and very few of the people who came for adoptions saw the angry disciplinarian that made himself present when the children were misbehaving. A smile swept across his face as one hand encompassed the redhead's. "Welcome. I'm Joumu. Joumu Hiro, director of the orphanage."

"Yes, Joumu-san." The younger man smiled politely, shaking the man's hand, "I believe we spoke on the phone. My name is Minamino Shuichi."

The gears turned in Joumu's head as he tried to place the name with a phone call. It took a moment, then he remembered. This was the young actor who had a lot of promise in his field. He had been getting much publicity for the past year or so and here he was, offering to spend time with the children? It made little sense in the elderly man's mind. "Ah yes. You called several days ago." One bushy gray eyebrow rose, "Is this some sort of publicity stunt, young man? Trying to curry favor with the media?"

Emerald eyes widened. "Oh, no sir. Never." Came the firm yet polite reply, "I was just hoping to be of some good to these unfortunate children." A soft smile graced the face of the redhead, "I do enjoy working with children. They can be so clever."

"Too clever." Joumu agreed. "I suppose I can find a way for you to help. There are many children here and all of them do not get enough attention. Undoubtedly you saw the delinquent on the porch. He is one of our worst. Starved for attention, the poor boy, but the second you give it to him…" The elderly man shook his head sorrowfully, then turned towards the door. "Follow me, please."

Shuichi obediently trailed behind him, wondering about the boy on the porch. How long had he been there? What was his situation? And why had he stared at him with such anger? "The little boy on the porch…" He began, but the other man cut him off.

"Little boy?" He snorted indelicately, "That is no little boy. Don't let him fool you…He's been here his whole life. Seventeen years."

"Seventeen?" This piqued the young man's curiosity, "There's no way that child can be seventeen. He doesn't look any older than twelve."

"I am aware of that." Came the dry response, "And he uses it to his advantage. But that boy is a troublemaker, headed down the wrong path. He was hopeless when he was a child and he's hopeless now. Do not waste your time with him."

Shuichi nodded, a thoughtful expression lighting his face. How could one "waste" one's time when it was for a worthy cause? How could one be defined as "hopeless" when perhaps one was never given a reason to hope? This perplexed him.

Joumu led him down the hall to a large, spacious room. A dozen or so children of varying ages were milling around; some reading, some watching television, some doing homework. His gaze wandered around the shabby -yet orderly- room until three particular children caught his attention.

Two small boys were tormenting a little girl with brown hair shorn short and large glasses, holding a ratty stuffed cat just out of her reach and laughing as she made attempts to free the toy from their possession. The girl looked angry; as if she was mad at them more than upset. Each time she made a jump and stretched her fingers towards the synthetic fur, the boys would lift it higher, and her face would further twist into a grimace.

His emerald gaze swiveled over to Joumu. As the elderly man surveyed the scene, Shuichi could practically see the gears turning in his head. No harm being done, -he could read the older man's expression perfectly- and she must learn early on that the world is a cruel place. This is a fine lesson for her.

The red-head turned his attention back to the child and her tormentors. The little girl's steeled gaze seemed to be wavering and she suddenly burst into tears while still swiping for her toy.

A small frown crossed Shuichi's face. The girl was crying and Joumu seemed to have no intention of remedying the situation. This simply would not do.

He crossed the room, stopping behind the boys and removing the plush cat from the taller boy's hands before the punk even realized he was there. The boys turned and looked at him, slightly guilty, then scampered off before any sort of punishment could be doled out. Shuichi crouched down, one hand resting on the girl's hair, and smiled softly. "I believe this belongs to you."

She looked up, wiping away the remnants of her tears. When she noticed her treasured possession in his hand, her face lit up and she beamed at him, her grin full of gaps and giving her a jack-o-lantern appearance. "Gee, thanks mister!" She chirped, then skipped off towards a battered plastic kitchenette.

Shuichi smiled after her, satisfied that all had turned out well. Then he rose to his feet and sauntered back to his spot beside Joumu. "I can see you wanted to get an idea of how I handle such situations." He said innocently, "Was that satisfactory?"

The older man's mouth opened momentarily, then closed again. He stared at Shuichi, who beamed at him, then his gaze wandered back to the children. "As you can see, we are short staffed. Most of the interaction between the children and adults comes from volunteers such as yourself. Unfortunately, there aren't nearly enough volunteers. Most of the children don't get the one-on-one attention that they crave."

"I see."

"Your job will be to spend time with them…Be some one they can talk to, some one of whom they can ask questions. Most of these children have never had a positive role model in their entire lives."

"Yes sir." Shuichi nodded gravely, his green gaze once again sweeping across the young occupants of the room. "I will do my best."

"When can you begin?" Joumu queried.

"Now, if you need me." Came the good-natured response, "I have nothing better to do until rehearsal at five." Shuichi was eager to begin work with the children; to be around people who weren't superficial and false like those he was around on a daily basis. He wasn't sure how exactly to explain it; but children were so…real.

"You will, of course, have to fill out the required paperwork and get a tour of the facilities before you can begin, but we can take care of that in a matter of moments." The elderly man assured him.

"Of course." Came the reply, "Why don't we get that out of the way then."

"Right this way." Joumu led him towards a smaller office near the large main hallway, where he riffled through a filing cabinet for the appropriate forms. Shuichi waited patiently, glancing around the cramped quarters, not failing to notice the small dark figure trying to glide undetected into the building…

"I need to fill this out in entirety?"

"No…Only here, here, here…"

The teenager in the hallway stopped momentarily, peering into the small office where two adult males stood. Joumu was marking something on a paper and the red head was…eerily enough, looking right at him.

Startled by this for a moment, he stared back, gaze burning into intense green eyes. Those eyes smiled at him, grinning teasingly, their expression mirroring the curve of the young man's mouth. He stiffened, his glare intensifying. How dare that man mock him! Fury suddenly overwhelmed him like an angry wind battering his insides, threatening to tear him apart.

The red-head looked faintly amused at the sight of the livid young man in the hall. Shuichi wasn't sure quite why the boy was scowling at him, but it made him want to smile more. Something about the way the teen looked at him only furthered the need to make the boy angry; to tease him and watch his anger grow.

"We meet again." He quipped, offering a hand, his lips further curling upwards into a grin.

Red eyes flared angrily. "Why don't you just fu-"

"Watch your mouth!" Joumu cut him off, glaring sharply at the small, dark-haired teen. The elderly man spun around to fully face the offender, his bushy eyebrows knitting together as he leveled his gaze. "I will not tolerate-"

"I know; I know. You will not tolerate such crude language and rude behavior." The teen finished dully. His stare at the elderly man was one of indifference; as if he had no worries about any sort of consequences from his incredibly rebellious actions.

Joumu let out a ragged sigh, straightening his tie with one hand. "This," He looked up at Shuichi, "Is the result of a child who has spent too many years here and gotten far too little attention. This is the sort of thing we want you to help prevent. We do not need any more children like Hiei. He has done nothing but cause trouble and give the workers and volunteers grief since he's been here."

So that is his name…Shuichi nodded, red hair bouncing around his shoulders. He turned to look once more at the boy in the hall, but Hiei had disappeared. It appears that Joumu-san is making him out to be the bad guy here where it is clearly negligence on his part. If he truly were here since infancy, he should not be one of the aggressive, angry children who is taken from the only family they've known. Joumu-san is trying to explain away his own mistakes.

"Anyway, I need your signature here, then I can show you around." The director continued, a superficial smile plastering itself to his wrinkled face, "I'm sure many of the children will be happy to have a new playmate. Now sign here please."

Shuichi complied, scrawling his name across the page in tight cursive, the polite smile never leaving his face. His thoughts, however, were a million miles away from paperwork and small children.

I wonder if it's too late for that boy…

So, first chapter finished. Be honest; is it crap?