Kawa's Journal 7

Dear Nene,

This is later. These people feel the need to surround me 24/7, and they are just the rag-tag-est group of freaks I have ever met. But it is amusing to watch Hiei and Kuwabara engage in a battle of wits, in which Kuwabara is never prepared.

At least I have friends now.

Forgot to mention that my appearance has been changed. I look weird. It's so no one recognizes me.

I have long, brown, midlength hair, I'm 5'1", a very short and sucky height—I'm shorter than Hiei and his hair, and I have hazel eyes. My nationality now looks American. I'm afraid of Americans--an awesome song, by the way, by David Bowie and Trent Reznor, and, quite frankly, I look like a slut.

To my disgrace, Yuusuke and Kuwabara both huskily agree, though it's fun to see Keiko, Yuusuke's should-be-kinda-friend-since-childhood-and-I-really-mean-friend girlfriend hit them both.

Speaking of oddities (says the hypocrite), the other day I made the huge mistake of trying to take Hiei's ice cream. Big no-no. I think he broke my hand, but I can't be sure because I smashed it earlier punching Kuwabara and it had been numb for the time. I swear the way that midget swings around that little toothpick it's a wonder he hasn't poked out one of his three eyes, let alone anyone else's normal two.

Oh, I forgot to tell you? HIEI HAS THREE EYES! Apparently, that little bandana isn't just a bad fashion statement; it also conceals his third, purple eye. Oh, yeah. Red eyes aren't demonic, excuse the pun, enough, this little freak show has a purple pupil smack dab on his forehead!

Screw it. Why does this come as a surprise to me? I frequently ask myself as I lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling, cursing, as an afterthought, my insomnia.

I have no idea.

Sayonara,

A Very Confused and Tired,

Kawatta

Kawa shut her journal and looked up at Shiori making dinner, humming lightly.

"Need any help, Auntie Shiori?" she asked politely, standing up. The woman smiled a beautiful grin and waved Kawa over with a "Sure!"

Never having cooked with her mother before, the ghost hanyou was very out of place, as she usually bought things that could be microwaved quite easily with only having to take the wrapper off left to Kawa.

"Dear, you can cut the vegetables," Shiori nodded, watching as Kawa fumbled with taking things out of the fridge and dropping the fish. Apparently, Kurama's mother had no qualms about giving Kawa a knife.

"Hello, mother, Kawatta," Kurama said, surprised, staring at Kawa. Shiori hugged her son and pecked him on the cheek, a smile brightening her features.

I wish my family embraced me like that. Like…no matter what, they'd always love me, Kawa found herself thinking, and her eyes teared slightly.

"Are you crying, Kawatta-chan?" Shiori asked, concerned, and the girl shook her head furiously.

"Naw, it's just the onions," she shrugged off lightly, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

Shiori nodded, but she knew that there were no onions in the kitchen.

"Okay, nitwit, focus," a two-foot tall, raspy voiced, wrinkly woman demanded, striking Kawa upside the skull.

The blonde hissed, rubbing the spot, and scooted away from the Reiki master named Genkai, who looked as though she had been around since the stone-age. For the entire third weekend in a row Kawa sat outside, through heat, rain and cold, being trained by the hag to access her ghost powers.

Lately the intense urge to throw the woman down her 500 some steps had been all Kawa had been able to focus on.

"Concentrate on a ball of white light and—" Genkai started, but Kawa interrupted her.

"Don't I get a piss break, Grandma?" she said loudly, and Genkai rolled her eyes.

"You have one minute," she grumbled, taking a cigarette out and lighting it.

Kawa clapped and leapt up, stretching her small body out by bending backwards.

"Fifty-six, fifty-five…" Genkai counted aloud, and the girl scowled, taking off.

"This is the stupidest thing to have ever happened to me," she muttered, turning the corner and sliding down the wooden pillar. She turned her watch to her pulse so she could look at it, the hands crossing as she stared.

Will I ever die? She asked herself, looking up at the cloudy sky. If I'm a ghost, how will I know when or how I'm supposed to move on? Will I ever move on? Kawa stood up and counted down the seconds until the hands crossed once more, and turned the corner once more, a fake grin on her American-looking face.

"God, I think my belt fits better!" she announced loudly, making Genkai roll her eyes.

"Okay, once again, focus on a ball of glowing light."

Behind her eyes, a circle of pure, violet color appeared in a backdrop of black, pulsing.

"Got it? Now reach out and hold onto the ball. It may burn, it may be freezing cold, and it may try to blow you back, but hold onto it."

With invisible arms Kawa reached out and clutched at the ball, fingers quickly growing numb, and it brought to mind holding onto a snow ball with no gloves.

"Pluck at it, as if it were wrapped in thread, and you're trying to unroll it."

String upon string fell away from the object, and the burning cold sensation increased, making Kawa start to draw back her fingers.

"This is where you let go!" Genkai said sharply, and Kawa stopped her actions, wincing. "Now bring the pure core forward to your chest and tighten your grip until it cracks."

With an unfeeling hand the teenager obeyed, and the energy slowly crushed against her body, revealing one, glossy, hair-thin cord.

"You should see a thread, as fine as a hair, stretched out in front of you. With one finger, pull on the hair, but ever so slightly, and don't break it!"

With a gently touch, Kawa touched the string, and it resonated, twirling into a blur of white-gray.

"Good. Now open your eyes."

AS instructed, the living dead girl let her eye lids fly open, and looked down at her hands. Or, at least, she tried. She had gone transparent.