#norainu

 He tossed aside the trash can lid and took a peek inside. Nothing in there but old straws and ketchup stains as well as a couple of cockroaches. Seems the garbage truck was already here this rainy morning.

 Damn.

 His stomach gave a lurching growl, aching from hunger, causing him to groan as he put his hand over it.

 "Ah, shut up..." he grumbled. "I'm trying to find something to eat, all right?"

 Another growl caused him to sigh as he walked away from the trash cans, and as he walked by, he glanced down one of the forming puddles at his feet. His red coat was in tatters, denim jeans ripped at the knees, and scuffed-up brown shoes with the soles having been worn down flat. His chin and upper lip were darkened with five o'clock shadow and his gray hair, having grown down all the way to his waist, was matted and tangled in some places.

 He sighed, triangular ears drooping as he walked on, but as he stepped out onto the sidewalk, a passing car zoomed by, splashing him with water. He coughed and spluttered before he shook his head in a futile attempt to get dry. What would be the point? It was already fucking raining.

 With an indignant grunt, he continued walking down the street, avoiding eye contact with other passersby, some of them giving looks of disdain, but he ignored them. He found that glaring back often didn't do him any good. They would often just keep staring at him and muttering derogatory things.

 This all started ever since his mother died. Back then, he had a place that he could come and go to. He went to school like a good kid. He didn't start any fights, even when his classmates picked on him for his fuzzy ears and golden eyes. Even during that time, he was happy...because his mother was there, always welcoming him home with a warm hug and a meal...even though the rest of the family did not share her sentiments.

 The moment she breathed her last...he was practically torn away from her side, screaming as tears fell from his eyes as he begged them to let him stay with his mother just a little longer, but they fucking kicked him out like he was yesterday's mochi.

 For ten years, this was how it was. Any attempts at gaining kindness was either met with a cold slam of the door or a violent kick or slap to the face. By the time he was 13, he resorted to having to either dig around in the garbage or having to steal from others. Usually, getting food from the garbage was the easier, albeit more disgusting solution. Less chance of getting beaten within an inch of life that way. Whatever fresh food he could get, however...it was usually taken from him by bigger, stronger jerkasses who easily overpowered him in a fight.

 These days, though, he could usually take on those bastards, no problem...that is, as long as he had something in his gut.

 "Hey, Norainu!!" shouted someone off to his right, causing his ear to flick as he heard the malicious snickering from a bunch of punks on the other side of the street. He growled as he walked on, knowing that they only called him that to see if he would respond.

 That's everyone seemed to call him now.

 He was Inuyasha...the stray dog that was unwanted in this world.