Key:

((author's notes))

(Sesshoumaru's commentary)

"English"

"Japanese"

"Demon language" (which will not be very often…)

Note: Sesshoumaru may write in any of these languages in his journal, but it won't show up as anything different. This is because he knows what he is writing, in all three languages, and since no one else is supposed to read it, he can write it however he pleases. Besides, it makes it easier to read (and write) the story.

Chapter 3: First Day of Classes

August 21, 2005

Dear Journal:

Today is the first day of classes, as well as Picture Day. Fun. Not. Like I want to get my picture taken while I look like a regular human.

Inuyasha had a lot of fun trying to wake me up today. I hate alarm clocks, so naturally, I didn't set mine. So, instead of a loud blaring noise waking me up, 100 pounds of useless hanyou weight were thrust into me, successfully waking me up.

Needless to say of my reaction, Step-Mom banned Inuyasha from doing that again—for his own safety. I had to apologize for poisoning, scratching, and threatening the mutt. Father even got into the argument. Oh, well. Inuyasha should have known better than to pummel into me first thing in the morning.

I write this on the bus. I would rather not write in demonic language like I am now, because I need practice in human language, but the bus is full, and the people around me are trying to take a sneak peek at what I am writing. It's none of their business.

Interesting, one of the boys is the "teddy bear". I think I might have a little fun with him, and toy with his mind before we get to school. I have half an hour before I arrive.

"What were you writing?" the "teddy bear" boy asks. Before I have a second to answer, he adds, "Oh, I haven't introduced myself, my name is Daniel, but everyone calls me by my last name, Shuck."

"Hello, Mr. Shuck," I reply coolly.

"No, just…"

"I, quite frankly, do not care what you would like to be called. As for what I was writing, I was writing in my journal."

"Journal? You have got to be kidding! No one keeps one of those anymore, especially guys. And besides, it looked like you were writing in some sort of formal code."

"I was writing in my native tongue," I say. Kagura interrupts me, for she, too, rides this bus.

"That is not Japanese. Unless…you are not Japanese on your mother's side."

I do not reply. I find it unnecessary to answer to a human like her… wait, her scent just changed for a split second. No, I know that scent. Why didn't I think about it before?

"Are you related to a Naraku?" I ask, completely ignoring the questioning looks from the humans.

"Yeah, that bastard's my biological father, I'm sad to say…" she says before she pounces back on the previous topic, "And that question proves who you are. I thought it was you. Your father and my father are business rivals…"

"No, they aren't. Your father is a scamming creep who is trying to steal everything that belongs to my father."

"No matter. I do not associate with my father. I do not even think that he knows that I exist, much less that I know he exists."

"I don't know about that. Your father always seems to know what is going on," I state. "He at one point had the entire business of my father memorized and predicted every decision that my father was to make. He is a dangerous…man…" I make the sarcasm at the end subtle so she gets it, but the others can't get it.

"Though this conversation is interesting," the "teddy bear", I mean, Daniel, says, "I think that we should talk about something that all of us can understand, and not strange family issues."

"We will talk about whatever we please," I state as coolly as I can muster. "I do not require your permission to talk. You—nobody for that matter—are not in charge of me."

"What about teachers?"

"Do I look like I care about what they have to say? I'll act nice for them, but only so that my father won't have to go through the trouble of telling them to allow me to do whatever I want."

"The government?"

"Father can bail me out for anything I do before I turn 18, and once I'm 18, I have diplomatic immunity."

"Your father…?"

"…Wants me to learn to be the one people look to, not be the one that looks up at others."

"Your mother…?"

"…is dead. And, my step-mom is only in charge of my little brother—not that I like her anyway. Face it. I do not require anyone above me to give me boundaries. I make my own boundaries. Now, if you would excuse me, I would like to talk to Kagura."

Kagura starts the conversation, but to hide what we really talk about, she speaks in fluent Japanese.

"So, you're a demon. I figured that when I first saw you, though physically you seem human, and nothing like your family."

"That's why I use concealment spells. That way, no one knows the difference. I would prefer it if I didn't have to hide, but tell that to my father."

"I thought you didn't listen to anyone."

"I don't. I just take advice from people. I made the choice to keep under the spell, but my father was the one who suggested that I do so, for the sake of the entire demon community."

We talk more about family issues. Apparently, Kagura is the bastard daughter of Naraku (a hanyou, making him even more disgraceful in the criminal underground) and a human, making her a quarter demon. She easily can hide her demonic aura from people. She has no physical traits that are demonic, so she just lives like a regular human with increased strength and speed. She has loose control of the wind.

The bus arrives at the school as we end our conversation about our families. My first class today is Spanish. I don't see the point in taking another language, but Japanese doesn't count in the school, so I need to take the stupid class. At least it is better than French or Latin. I may actually find some use for it.

Spanish class, however, is down at the first building at the other side of the school. I have ten minutes—plenty of time if you ask me, but for some humans, it seems a bit short for the distance.

I start down the road. 'Why does it have to be so hot out here?' I ask myself. 'To make matters worse, only one building with classes here has air conditioning. Humans are so cheap—they only put air conditioning in computer rooms, the building with the auditorium, and the cafeteria.'

I arrive at the room at exactly 8:03—as says the alarm clock at the front of the room. 'This teacher is cheap,' I think as I look about the room. Random pictures that the teacher's students have drawn in the past cover the area around her desk. A single bookshelf stands in the back of the small room—covered mostly in Spanish/English dictionaries and some history books. Apparently, she also is one of the sophomore history teachers.

The teacher herself looks out of place in the room. Her silver, five inch heels must have cost her at least fifty dollars, and her shirt and skirt look as though they were bought at Nordestrom's. I bet she has more money than she says she does. Because I have time, I take out my journal.

August 21, 2005 (Continued)

I remember my Spanish teacher from yesterday. She looks to be about 25 years old, give or take a year or two. I distinctly remember her complaining about her paycheck (discretely, of course). I thought what she wore yesterday was a bit…extravagant. The foolish woman complains about not having money, and yet she dresses like she had all of the money in the world.

Humans are so strange.

Yesterday, she said she was Italian. She said she spoke Italian, English, Spanish, and French. I wonder, "Why does she even teach here?" She could easily get a higher paying job as a translator.

Like I said, humans are strange.

The class is starting to show up. Mostly freshmen—stupid ones at that.

"Class, take out your books, and I will teach you some important phrases for this class…" the teacher began. I look at her and feign paying attention. I can study better alone, and not in a classroom with the blonde in front of me, fixing the blue bow in her hair.

I do not learn anything when the teacher goes on with the proper pronunciations of the letters. It is quite obvious how to pronounce things. The only strange things are how to say "Y". "Igriega" (or however it is pronounced), is very awkward.

After forty or so minutes of listening to the teacher babble, I walk down the hall to my next class—physics. I do not understand why humans must have their young teach those who are even younger. My physics teacher (honors, even), must be thirty or less. She looks like a klutz.

A minute after I arrive in the room, she proves her incompetence. She drops the paper that she was reading from. She bends down to grab it, but hits her head on the table as she rises.

There is assigned seating in the physics room. My group, I don't know if it is coincidence, or what, is Mr. "Teddy-bear", some Nigerian guy who was hard to understand ((see note at bottom)), and some red-head who looks puny. Not only is he short, but he also is so skinny that he may be able to fit in his backpack if someone stuffed him in it.

I swear, this class will be boring.

"Hey, you're the Japanese guy with the family issues," "teddy-bear" boy says.

"I am Japanese, but I have no family issues. Now, shut up before I break one of your bones."

Shuck, I believe his last name was, laughed at the comment. I see no point in talking any more, so I remove the concealment spell from my face for a flash of a second. No one else pays any attention, but Shuck stops smiling. I growl quietly and show my large fangs at him. He looks scared and unable to form a complete sentence. I reapply the spell on my fangs before someone else notices.

August 21, 2005 (Continued II)

Here I am, sitting in the lunch room. Last period, X-hour, as they call it, I got my pictures taken. It wasn't the worst thing in the world, but still very embarrassing. I look like a human in the picture! And, no one really cares, because I am supposed to look like one.

This room stinks of the stench of humans. Only freshmen have first lunch—the rest of the school's population has second and third lunches. Supposedly, however, because of my schedule, I have second lunch four times every seven school days.

Next class is Computer. I hope that the teacher isn't quite as hypocritical or incompetent as the teachers I have had all day.

August 21, 2005 (Continued III)

I am on the bus again. Computer, as I had hoped, was better than the classes I have had all day.

After Computer, I had History with the sophomores, as some sort of experiment. I easily should fit in. Only three freshmen are in that class that hour, and the hour after mine has only two. The teacher looks like she is an idiot. She didn't discuss anything of importance, unlike the other teachers (that I just ignored anyway).

Geometry was after History. That teacher and my English teachers are the only qualified teachers that I have seen today. But, my Geometry teacher had more quirks than the others. She had a smile that reminded me of "teddy-bear" boy (I thought they were related, until I heard that he was the son of a different teacher who works in the science department). But, she had the attitude that said "I'll laugh with you until you slack off, and then I'll work with you to make you smarter."

English was my last class today. My rotating schedule puts me in Religion first, then Spanish, and through the schedule, minus English.

Though my English teacher was a good teacher (I think), he had his own quirks. Looking at him was almost like looking at a nerd. He was sarcastic, but still a nerd. He had the pocketed shirt, the casual pants, the glasses, the voice, and the face all screaming that he was a nerd. All he needed was a bunch of pens in his pocket, and he would be in perfect costume.

He couldn't be any older than thirty, but he was prepared to be a teacher. Few people like him, though, because he is very boring. But, he has his own sense of humour. Who knows? Maybe he will lighten up in the near future.

I still don't see why I must have humans teach me, but I guess it is better than the little imp, Jaken, trying to keep me under control and keep on telling on me for not working right.

END CHAPTER

Whew…this one was long.

Note: his physics partners are the people I had physics with (I make up most of the characters or they are canon. The exceptions are a few select students and teachers. Oh, and I have nothing wrong with Nigerian people. It's just that Mayowa (the Nigerian student) is very hard to understand, and he is the class president, so he has to make speeches on the poor sound system. I have no idea what he says, because his voice is as low as low gets, and he mumbles.

R&R!