Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction ❯ Worthless Onna ❯ Runaway ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

The hallway clock outside your bedroom struck midnight, and you sat hunched over your knees crying. Each night the same nightmare and you had no idea what it meant. You wiped your eyes and made your way down the hall to the bathroom to splash some water on your face. Finding the door you quested was easy enough, but pushing it open revealed an enemy; your father. A gasp escaped your mouth and it was too late to turn back as he faced you with insanity dripping from his eyes. He was shaking also, sweat caressing his forehead, and his breaths were in gasps. Your father wasn't insane actually, he just suffers frequent attacks to the brain due to an accident in his past, but during this time he literally has no control over his abusive actions. And, for some reason, this behavior is always directed to you. He took you from the floor by the collar of your nightshirt and shook you angrily.
He grit his teeth. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm sorry... I had a nightmare and I just..."
He rolls his eyes and brushes off your words with a glare. He tightens the grip he has on you and drags you downstairs. You stumbled from him at the bottom and opened your eyes to see he had retrieved your brother's baseball bat. Smirking with an expressionless face, he brought the bat down powerfully on your shoulder. You cry out from the pain and try crawling to the stairs, but he easily steps forward and brings the bat down again, this time harder on your back. You choked and hot tears flowed, but you wiped them away so he wouldn't be encouraged. This was the way it had always been. To him, you meant nothing. He was the weak and you were the strong. And the weak must suffer.

The pain spread like wildfire in your body as he gave the final blow to your ankle, but you suppressed the scream by biting your lip. You had covered your face and were hiccupping from your cries as you begged for him to stop. He finally came to his senses and as you caught his eye he growled and shook you from him, kicking your head as he headed back upstairs. You lay there motionlessly and without sound for long time before you forced yourself to limp up to your room.
Scenes such as this you went through each day no matter how small or gruesome, and your seven-year-old body barely had time to heal in-between. Your father had made you accept that you were weak, and forced you to keep your brother and mother unaware of your bruises and scars. Your mother was ignorant enough, but your brother was too clever and such a worrier. When he finally saw them he broke down in front of you and vowed to stick by you whenever he could. The beatings grew smaller then, but your father jumped at every opportunity. But he wasn't here now. He wasn't here. That kept running through your head as you closed your door behind you and sank to your knees. You wanted this to just be another nightmare, one that you could wake up from knowing it was all a lie. But it wasn't a nightmare, you were awake, and as much as you denied it this was reality.
You gritted your teeth and ignored the pain as you stood and cracked your neck and made your way to the first-aid kit in your dresser. After bandaging yourself you looked into the mirror and heard your father's voice saying, "Weakling" over and over. You slammed your fist into the headboard and looked away, only to have your eyes lock onto your dusty, old duffel bag. A new voice appeared in your head and it said:

Run.

You clenched your fist and opened the drawers of your dresser and threw piles of clothes, your money, and a picture of your brother into the bag. You opened your window and crouched on the sill looking down, and once you made sure a certain necklace was tucked safely around your neck, you jumped without hesitation. You stumbled as you landed, but you got up and ran on. And on.

All night you ran threw the forest with no destination or care in the world, but the thought of freedom. Nearly reaching the end at dawn you found yourself in a deserted meadow and looked up. The first rays of the morning sun revealed a wrecked church at the top of a hill surrounded by trees. Its windows were shattered if not broken entirely, the color had faded, and the walls were somewhat caved in, but as you walked around you spotted a small, hidden entrance. Unlike the outside, however, the inside was large and more in tact. The halls were narrow leading to rooms upon rooms. There was also a cafeteria, a library, a study filled with dusty furniture, and, alas! A bathroom with working plumbing! You sighed in unbelievable relief, and dropped your duffel bag against a long couch. You wiped off the dust and fell instantly into a dreamless sleep.
Sunlight peaked through the cracks of the walls the next day and you woke up in higher spirits. Though, as many times as you counted your money, you knew you would need more. You looked through a window, which lead to a winding road. You sighed and dressed before beginning to wander thinking you were a seven-year-old and already on your own.
Ironically, it was Sunday, and before you left you made a small prayer for confidence. Once you turned you noticed your reflection in the broken glass and froze. It was time for change. You grabbed the pocketknife from your bag and in one sweep cut your hair. Once long and elegant, but now boyish and shoulder-length. You grabbed your money and put away the blade as you walked out and down the road, soon finding a small town. Your visit was to a local school where you claimed your parents had dropped you off and were in a hurry to some meeting. Thankfully, the woman nodded, smiling, and she discussed that you would attend starting tomorrow, what you would need, and what you would need your parents to sign. You nodded also and walked out, pretending to wait for your parents before dashing off. School would at least give you something to do, but it wasn't enough. You walked along desperately talking to owners of shops and such before coming to a small, friendly grocery. You managed to talk to the owner in private, and once he heard your story the man broke down and offered you a job out of pity. Over the years this kind man became like your guardian, and whenever it occurred to you that you needed one at school he covered for you. He invited you constantly to his house for meals and to play with his children, and you became settled, maybe even content.
Despite everything, however, he could not burn out the memory of your father. He could not get his words out of your head. Finally you faced that fear, realizing you didn't want to be weak anymore, and confronted Hisoka (the owner). He agreed and with some of his friends' help they were able to clear a field for you outside your church where you could train. After it was finished you hugged Hisoka as hard as you could and did what you hadn't in a long time:

Smiled.

**
Nine years have passed. No longer are you the fragile seven-year-old, but now a strong sixteen-year-old because of your brutal training. As a present, Hisoka had also given you your first weapon at thirteen: daggers. You had begun to master them, whether it be stabbing, throwing, or parrying and you felt confident holding them. You now had finished your early training session and you put away your daggers as you walk towards the lake. As you cup water in your hands and splash it in your face, tiny droplets fall and ripple onto the lake. You sigh as the ripples disappear and reveal your reflection. Beams of sunlight made the silver outline of your white hair and your silver streaked bangs glimmer and dance, and you skin was ghostlike. Your hair was even more boyish, cut barely past your ear that was shaved in back and spiky and wavy on top. Your sapphire eyes dazed until a leaf fell on the surface and snapped back into reality. You got up and left to the church as you played with the piercing on the side of your lip with your tongue. [Me: Yup, you have a lip piercing!]

After reaching your room you changed into your usual outfit of black. Black kept you hidden, made you feel invisible to society, safe even, and that's how you wanted it. You slipped on a pair of black shredded jeans, a loose black tee shirt with a sarcastic quote, and lastly you put on a long black trench coat, which fell to your ankles, and flew behind you as you walked. The weather, though you failed to realize it, revolved completely around your emotions, and this morning you felt no different. Still you felt completely aloof, apathetic, and just torn in-between your memories. Nonetheless, you put your bag over your shoulder and went on your way, stepping in puddle after puddle.
You reach the school and after a stop at your locker you walk into math class where none other than Yusukue and Kuwabara appear minutes after the bell. Before they can explain Mr. Kobayashi hands them both detention slips and they go to their seats grumbling. You shake your head wondering briefly why they're always late.
The class was uneventful, and the bell sent you off to science with Ms. Yamada. She was so bubbly as always, and today she announced, "Ohayoo Gozaimasu! Today will be your midterm lab! You will each have a partner and perform the mixture without my assistance. You will be graded on how well you work together, take notes, and perform. Now get those partners!" After this, a crowd of girls swarmed you and you declined each of them politely. You sighed knowing all too well your hair, fashion, and attitude was so tomboyish that everyone was convinced you were a guy. Still, you turned and found Yusukue was the only one left. He agreed to be your partner and you got everything ready at your table and set up the beakers and equipment.
After awhile you asked him, "Is the temperature right?" and he only stuttered, fumbling with the thermometer. "You have no idea what you're doing, do you?" He smiled sheepishly and you rolled your eyes and checked yourself. "Yes, it's fine. Now you have to do something or you'll fail. Write down everything I do, exactly as I do it."
He nodded, though he complained several times throughout the lab that his hand was cramping, but the time flew. The bell rang and you had barely made it, but you knew you passed and Yusukue grinned and slapped your back as you made your way outside to lunch. You were usually never hungry that early, so you just sat on the thickest branch of the tree above the farthest table, which also had a view of the lake. You took out your sketchbook and sighed looking at everyone else in all their little clichs. Annoyed, you took out your sketchbook and began several small doodles of them. You were truly talented despite how much you criticized yourself, but you decided to be lazy and draw them as stick figures killing each other. But they were damn good stick figures.
Eventually school ends and everyone flocks to the exit, but you stay and head for the art room. You enjoy the peace there and spend however long you wish drawing or painting until you escape out the window back to the church. Unless, of course, you were working today at Hisoka's where now you were a cashier instead of a lackey carrying packages, which was his son's job now. You worked until closing and after cleaning up you wave at Hisoka and head down the road. When you are walking down the hall to your room, the halls are spread out with your paintings. You have nearly finished one wall, and you now take a painting from your bag and hang it. The painting was of a woman drenched in the rain without an umbrella. You gave a weak smile and tucked your hands in your pockets as you walked on. You fell asleep easily and awoke the next day and changed into sweats for your training.

Running the track is how you always begin, working on your speed as obstacles that are in the way or ones that fly at you put your endurance and strength to the test. You breathe heavily when you finish and the largest tree stands in front of you. There as gashes on it from when you used it as a target for throwing daggers, and today is no different. You smirk and throw one yelling, "FREEZE!" pretending to be the police, and send your dagger flying. Seconds later it hits its mark and you head for the tree. However, your eyes widen at the sight you see and you halt. Your dagger had not only cut deeper than usual into the tree, but part of it was also frozen. You shake your head in disbelief mumbling to yourself as you walk back inside. After a change and bite to eat you head to the bathroom to brush your teeth and such. Squirting toothpaste on, you look up and plunge the toothbrush in, choking on it as you look in the mirror.

You looked different.

Your hair had grown long and wild and poking out on top of your head were kitsune ears. Your eye twitched along with one of the ears, "What the..." was all you got out before a jolt slithered down your spine and you felt a pain in your ass and the sound of shredded fabric. Slowly you looked down and saw a long kitsune tail poking out of your jeans.
"Well that's... interesting." You gaped, and your tail gave a wag.



Japanese Translations:

Ohayoo Gozaimasu: Most polite way to say, "Good morning." Among friends, family, etc. you can just use, "Ohayoo."
Pronunciation: Oh-hi-oh. Goz-i-mas.
Side notes: In most Japanese words ending with, "su," the, "u," is usually silent.