InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Half-Demon ❯ Chapter 1

Large, amber eyes watched her carefully from the edge of the clearing, peering out from between the leaves of a bush. They followed her as she ran this way and that, tripped, climbed back to her feet, ran again. Oblivious, she continued to play, her peals of laughter dancing over to the watcher's ears like music. The sound did something to the silent listener, and, as it reached him, one of his tiny, white dog-ears twitched. She looked…happy. His fascination grew as he continued to watch her, grew as she played with reckless abandon. Not a single care touched her perfect face. Her long, black ponytail danced about her shoulders as she threw and chased, threw and chased, a small, yellow ball. She looked about his age, the watcher thought as his eyes continued to follow her. She was about the same height he was…and she liked the same sort of games. His heart ached to run after the little yellow ball, to laugh with the girl and run with her. But his mother had told him not to. It was very dangerous to let people see him when she wasn't there, she told him again and again. So, instead, he watched, desperately trying to soak up just a bit of happiness from his position at the edge of the clearing. Just a bit. And then he would go home.

He watched her for quite a while longer before it happened. The ball bounced unexpectedly in his direction and he, so absorbed in watching the girl's play, did not react fast enough. She stood in front of him, holding her little yellow ball, her eyes nearly as wide with surprise his. But before he could run, before he could even think, she laughed once again and held out her tiny, innocent hand. He stared at it in wonder, unsure what to do. He knew what he should do. But it was too much. He couldn't walk away from his greatest, most secret desire, not when it was offered so freely and by such kind and playful eyes.

They played together in the clearing for such a short time before it ended. Before the boy learned why his mother didn't want him to be seen alone. Tiered of the little yellow ball, they had moved on to a game of tag. The boy was `it'. He ran after her----not using all his speed because then there would be no contest----and tripped, just as he was about to tag her. They landed in a heap, the girl's peals of laughter echoing louder than ever through the clearing. He loved the sound and, hoping to make it continue, took it upon himself to tickle her, the way his mother tickled him. But to the girl's father, who had just walked into the clearing, it didn't look like tickling. And the peals of laughter, which were such music to the boy's ears, sounded like screams to the panicked father.

He rushed towards his daughter, yelling for help, his mind nearly blank with panic. Once again, the boy did not react fast enough. He was still staring at the man in shock when he felt his tiny arm encircled by an iron grasp, felt the girl pulled out of his reach, and felt a fist jammed into his stomach. The wind was knocked from his lungs, preventing the protest he had been about to yell. We were only playing! I wouldn't hurt her! But it didn't matter. The girl was yelling it and her father wasn't listening. The help the man had called for came, in the form of two more panicked giants, and together, the three of them began to beat the boy. Pain exploded across the side of his face as a fist connected with his cheek. His other arm was grabbed and he knew he was trapped. He kicked at them with tiny, clawed feet but they barely noticed, just kept hitting him and kicking him. One of the men found a large branch and began using it like a club. Any breath the boy managed to draw was used to yell at them to stop, to leave him alone. They were hurting him. Why didn't they stop? Through it all, the girl screamed for them to leave her friend alone.

It went on far to long before the boy finally, mercifully passed out. The branch connected with the side of his head, cutting one of his dainty, white ears and closing his frightened, tearful eyes. If the men had known he was only unconscious they would have taken greater care to finish the job. The boy's inert form was dumped at the edge of the clearing and the girl was carried away, sobbing.

Night had fallen before the boy awoke. Cold dew covered him from bleeding head to broken foot. He was having trouble breathing. Tears still clinging to the edges of his tightly closed eyes, he lay curled in a tiny, red and white ball on the ground, feeling his half-demon body already beginning to heal. But his half-human heart was another story. When his eyes finally opened, they held their first traces of bitterness and distrust.