Okay, this story idea came randomly into my head and refused to leave, so here it is. Like the summary says, a kind of "life-story" of Mitarai. Some parts are more angsty than others... I can't really say much else, or it'll ruin the surprise, so I'll just leave it at I don't own YYH.

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Little Kiyoshi’s first memories were of police in his house, talking to his mother. He didn’t know what they were doing there, but his mother had told him to hide whenever they came. He made sure to listen. Mommy stayed nice if he listened. When he didn’t, she would yell, and that scared him.

To make her happy, he did his best at school, and he stayed quiet at home. Maybe if he was good and smart, she’d be proud of him.

He didn’t understand why he looked different than her. She had dark hair and brown eyes- they were sometimes a little red, but brown nonetheless-, while he had blonde hair and blue eyes. He liked his eyes- he wondered if his mother acted funny because they looked different. It scared him when she would leave for hours at a time, without telling him where she was going. She would come back with red eyes, and she would be in a bad mood. Kiyoshi made sure to leave her alone, even if he was hungry- he didn’t want to get in trouble.

He remembered the first time she hit him. One day, after school, (was it kindergarten?) he had done his work quickly so he could play. His teacher had let him borrow a toy car for doing well on a test, and he wanted to play. It was blue, and reminded him of rain.

He drove it along the carpet, making “vroom” noises. As he played, he thought. The other kids in his class had seemed to be mad at him for doing well. Weren’t they all friends? Shouldn’t they have been happy?

Well, he was different than them. He looked different… Kiyoshi briefly wondered if that was why they didn’t like him.

Lost in his thoughts, Kiyoshi forgot all about hiding from the police.

“Is he yours?” Kiyoshi looked up, not recognizing the voice, and his eyes widened.

“No, sir. I’m… taking care of him for a neighbor.”

The officer looked carefully back and forth between them for a minute, then relented.

“I don’t think you should be taking care of children in your condition, ma’am, but if your neighbor trusts you…”

He stood to leave. “I’ll be back to check on you in a few days.”

Once the door was closed, Kiyoshi’s mother turned angry eyes on her son.

“I told you to stay hidden,” she growled. Kiyoshi shrank back. Her eyes were red, and she looked scary.

“You listen to what I tell you,” she said angrily. Kiyoshi started to apologize, but a stab of pain in his cheek made him freeze. Tears welled up in his eyes as he raised a hand to his face.

“You listen from now on, got it?” his mother asked sternly. Kiyoshi nodded quickly and scurried back to his room, the car forgotten.

When his teacher asked for the toy the next day, he stayed silent, his eyes glued to the floor.

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Kiyoshi Mitarai lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He was in the sixth grade. His teachers had asked the students to describe scenes from their childhoods. Mitarai wondered what his classmates would write about. What was the first thing they had done to earn a slap? To lose a meal?

But he couldn’t ask them. You only discussed those kinds of things with your friends, and he had none. He understood why now. His mother had told him. It was because he was different. Because he looked nothing like the other students. He was a mistake- he shouldn’t have inherited his father’s looks. His father was gone… his mother had told him it was because he was ashamed of having a son like him. Had this happened to any of the other students?

Mitarai turned over onto his side. What kind of memories were safe enough to share? Most of his younger memories were of punishments he had gotten for being disobedient. Maybe a memory of school? There had to be one that didn’t deal with other students shunning him…

The door slammed, making his heart pound. His mother was home- and he had forgotten to get food ready for her. How had he forgotten Tuesdays were his responsibility?

Please don’t let her notice…

A tense five minutes went by, then ten. Mitarai finally relaxed once he couldn’t hear any more movement in the house. She probably had had too much to drink.

Mitarai knew not all parents drank. But he knew that every parent had their own “thing” that they would do. He had just drawn a different lot. Some parents smoke, some in his neighborhood did drugs… Idly, he wondered what problems he and his classmates would have when they were older. He hoped he wouldn’t turn to drinking. It didn’t seem to agree with your stomach.