AN- ok, I'm only going to say this once. I do not own YYH. I may wish I did, but I don't, so there. In the next few chapters, you'll meet more of my oc's while the gang has more of an impact. Don't worry, my oc's aren't just "all powerful". I think that's kinda gay. But anyways, here's chapter two. Inbetween slashes means they're writing.

Chapter 2…My Life as an Outcast

/Life sucks. It just a fact, or at least for me. There was no real point of living anymore, except to keep dad happy. Even then, it wasn't much of a reason. It's not liked I got good grades in school, or starred in any sport, even made lots of friends. Hell, I didn't understand anymore.

Life was always bad in the first place. I was born American, but moved to Japan several years ago. New schools, different languages, the whole shebang. And, of coarse, no one wants to be friends with the "American". I look different, sure, but jeez, at least treat me like I'm human. I have feelings too.

My dad moved here to expand on his job. It's not high paying or anything. Actually, I think he's making less money, if that is even possible. But he insisted. He's been that way ever since mom died. That was hell. She was the only thing I could hold on to, and dad just took it horribly. He didn't even feed me or say anything to me for a week. It was pretty bad.

If you didn't notice by now, I'm an outcast. It's not like wanted to be, it's just that I am. I'm just the "American". Actually, the teachers don't even remember my name. You know it's bad when that happens. My dad thought it was because my name was English, so he legally changed my name. My Japanese name is Mistro. Yeah, I know, kinda weird. It's cool, but come on, it doesn't even sound Japanese. Mistro Turner, that's who I am. Most people just call me MT or MTA. Mistro Turner, American.

But there's more to me than just a name. Ok, this may sound kind of gay and stuff, but I think that I can sense metal. No, seriously. I've been able to do it since I was five. I don't know how, but I just can. I bet your laughing right now, but I'm serious. Just keep laughing. You probably have a low iron content right now, don't you? Actually, you should go see the doctor. It's pretty bad, you really should go see a doctor right now.

Hell, why am I writing this? You're just some lousy teacher who barely passes me for writing stupid stuff anyways. This whole journal thing was a bad idea, ever since the start. I can only hope for the bell to ring…/

A bell sound through the classroom, signifying the end of class and the start of lunch. "Please close your notebooks. Class is dismissed. Have a fun weekend," said the teacher, stooping over her desk while grading the student's last test. Finally, I thought it would never come. Students crowded near the door while I was forced to always be last. My desk was in the corner of the room, therefore I would always be last. Nothing I could do. I honestly enjoyed looking out the window. It seemed to calm me from everyday life. But lunch was always the worst.

I sat alone in the lunchroom. Sometimes this girl Keiko would sit next to me. It's not like I could talk to her much, since she was Urameshi's girlfriend. Anyone who even as so much as breathed on her heard from Yusuke, so people kept their distance. It wasn't like I didn't like her, but she wasn't for me. So I kept my distance.

Today was one of those days when someone is bound to bring up my special "abilities". It's the long standing joke of the school. "Hey, MTA, who needs to see the doctor today? Is anyone too high in iron?" Laughter spreads throughout the group, but I just blew them off. No point in talking to them. I just got my food, sat down, and ate.

Apparently it was also one of those days when Keiko would start patronizing me, as she sat down directly across from me. I just kept my head to my food. Food was good. Talk was bad. My simplest mission in life.

"Don't you ever get tired of them making fun of you? Why don't you stand up to them?" she asked, acting like she really cared. In truth I imagine she did, but it never seemed like anyone did.

"No," I said, keeping my responses as short as possible.

"Why don't you come eat with us then? No one at my table really minds if you sit with us."

"I'm good."

"Well, don't you have any friends? Aren't you lonely?"

"Sort of."

"Then why don't you come eat with us? You look like you could use some friends." I started to chuckle at this notion. Me, friends? Like that'll ever happen. "What's so funny," she questioned, hardening at my chuckling.

"Nothing," I said, keeping to myself.

"Well, if you ever change your mind, my offer still stands, ok?" With that she finally left to go back to her own table. Thinking back on it, I had talked more then than I had all day so far. How peculiar.

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Walking home was the one of the worst parts of my day. People just gave me stares as I walked past them. I guess that's what I get for being an outsider. And as if that wasn't enough, it was two and a half miles to my house. Two and a half miles of torture.

Today was at least a good day. There were no clouds in the sky, and the sun was shining brightly, keeping the temperature at a comfortable sixty-five.

As I walked past some of the shops, I looked at myself in the windows. I hadn't changed much since I moved to Japan. My hair still was still sticking up on end in spikes, although now it seemed more unrealistic since it was a little profound. What most people didn't know was that it did this naturally. I was still short, only standing five 'two. Call it bad genes if you will. My eyes, however, was what left me dumbfounded. Most people said I had a dull blue color of eyes. I believed that they were actually more gray than blue. Especially when I sensed metal.

As I kept walking I noticed some thugs strolling down the street in my direction. Please, just leave me alone, just leave me alone. As I was about to walk past, one of them put a hand on my shoulder. "Hey, pipsqueak, why don't you tell us how much money you have, that way we won't beat your whole body to a bloody pulp."

"And what if I don't?" I said defiantly. That was the wrong answer.

"Then I guess we do this the hard way," said another, grabbing my shirt and dragging to a secluded spot under the nearby bridge.

They threw me roughly against the wall, holding me up so my feet dangled helplessly. "One last chance, pipsqueak."

You go on ahead. You won't find any money."

"Alright boys, grab his stuff. We're going to have some fun with this one." They took a grab at my book bag, but I tried to fight back, struggling against the arms holding me up. What I got for my efforts was a gut punch, making me feel like I would throw up my insides. The pain was harsh. The thug dropped me to go help his friends.

After they had searched my book bag, and had found no money, they decided it would be fun to kick me while I was still on the ground. This was really going to be a bad day. About thirty agonizing seconds of torture to my ribs, I heard a voice that couldn't have sounded any better.

"So, boys, having fun picking on the weak?" They turned around to look at the intruder while I stole a glance at who it was. Urameshi! What's he doing here?

"Urameshi, you're on our turf. Get off or you'll get the worst pounding you ever had!"

"Funny, cause I thought this was my turf. And since you're on it, you've already started to piss me off. I haven't had a good fight today, and it doesn't like I'll be getting one from you guys."

"Hey! No one insults us!" The closest thug threw a quick punch towards Urameshi, but it was easily dodged and countered. I didn't bother to spend time watching the fight. I just let Yusuke do what he does best. I gathered my things and continued walking down the street as if nothing had happened.

About thirty seconds later, someone yelled behind me, "hey, aren't you going to thank me? I just saved your ass, kid!"

"Thanks," I muttered as I continued walking away in pain. I didn't want help from him. I just wanted to be left alone for now. But one thing was for certain. I definitely was not a kid.