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Nikanaru
By : Koday
Category: InuYasha > General
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Disclaimer: I do not own InuYasha, nor make money from this story.
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Nikanaru

General Disclaimer

I don�t own the
Inuyasha series, nor do I aim to make profit off this. And frankly, I doubt I could
if I applied myself.
However, I do claim
unofficial ownership over my original characters.

Note to readers:

By the by, being an artist as well as a writer, I decided to
go ahead and physically illustrate how I envision Max.

www.deviantart.com/view/20182225/
(Copy and paste that into your browser)

And, yes, I know that�s not very anime. I�m more so inclined
towards classic Western animation, as you�ll see if you look at the rest of my
stuff.

I might just make this illustration deal a regular thing,
too. Just to give this story some extra zing.

Anyways�

Nikanaru
Chapter 2
Al

The
following is an entry from the personal journal in which Max Higurashi wrote
in, based on his Great-Grandfather�s recommendation that writing things down
could help him sort out his feelings and personal conflictions over being a
lone demon masquerading in a world of humans:

September
22^nd
Dear
Journal,
Today I�
�
�
�
Fuck it.
This is stupid.

This single page journal can now be found in a garbage dump
somewhere in the outskirts of Tokyo.

********
Eleven Years Ago

Grandpa Higurashi was, as most men his age do, taking time
to appreciate the moment. It was a beautiful day out: The sun was shining
brightly through the kitchen window, reflecting wonderfully off the polished
sink and creating prisms of light throughout the room. The little fern tree he
had situated on the windowsill was bathing in the sunlight radiantly, the envy
of any other plant in the house. A cool breeze blew through the crack in the
window; it�s claming touch and melodious sound apexing the tranquility of the
moment. And finally, the kitchen was clean, yet still held the aroma of the
cinnamon rolls the Sakura had had for breakfast. Yes, Grandpa knew well that
such wonderful, calming, soothing moments in life where rare, and they should
be savored, to remember it as one of those all-to-few wonderful instants life
held.

Unlike most men his age, Grandpa was a man of impeccable health.
Most men n their mid-seventies would feel the inevitable crush of time, the
deterioration of their bodies handicapping them. Forcing them to use canes,
wheelchairs, glasses, watch their hearts, work their muscles less, eat more
fiber�

Grandpa,
however, had the advantage of having taken extremely good care of himself
throughout his life, both physically and spiritually. Since his teens, he�d
jogged regularly, ate healthily, meditated, practiced Kung Fu, and his studies
as a shrine master made him privy to all sorts of health charms and naturopath
remedies for his body.

The
naturopath remedies, however, were strictly a placebo effect, because
naturopathy is bullshit.

The pagan
charms, on the other hand, had genuinely helped immensely.

Nevertheless,
he was in exceptionally good health, and it seemed likely that the man could
very well live to be a hundred.

And
exceptionally good health proved to be an exceptionally good thing at that very
moment. Because any lesser 73 year old would have suffered a exceptional
myocardial infraction when an exceptional soccer ball suddenly came blasting
through the window like a cannonball, missing his head by centimeters, sending
glass shards flying in all directions, knocking the fern into the sink,
crashing through several hanging pans from the ceiling, and finally embedding
itself deep within the wall on the opposite side of the room.

Exceptionally.

That�s not
to say that Grandpa�s heart didn�t have a lovely workout from that fright. No,
he was clutching it as if he were afraid an Alien was going to burst out of his
chest. As he took another moment to steady his breathing, Souta suddenly burst
in from the back door.

�Oh my god!
Grandpa, are you okay?!� He cried, inspecting him for any sign of injury. Finding
none, Souta breathed a sigh of relief. Grandpa managed to settle himself,
looked at his grandson and demanded:

�What in
all the hell was that!?�

�Max and I
were in the backyard�� Souta began, inspecting the damaged room. Finding
nothing threatening the structural stability of the house, he went back to the
door. ��I was showing him how to�� Souta trailed off when he looked outside and
found no sign of him. �Max?� He called out. No response. �Max!�

Scanning
the yard, he eventually noticed a slight bit of trembling, poofy fur sticking
out from behind a tree. Souta sighed and approached.

�Max. Hey,
it�s okay. Come on out.� Reluctantly, Max poked his head out from behind the
tree.

�You were
showing him how to what? Aim a canon??� Grandpa asked, catching up as Souta
coaxed the little demon out into the open.

�I was
teaching him to play soccer.� Souta explained, giving calming little pats to
the kid who looked like he was ready to burst out into tears.

�So what,
are you launching the balls with catapults now??� Grandpa continued, noting the
distance in between them and the now-broken window, which was pretty far.

�Max kicked
it.� Souta informed him.

******

�He�s five
years old, and he kicked a soccer ball through two layers of our home.� Souta
stated, identifying the catalyst to the subject that he, Grandpa and Sakura
were at the table, having a meeting over.

�Well, I�m
sure he didn�t do it on purpose.� Sakura rationalized.

�I know he
didn�t, Mom. I was there. But that�s the whole problem.� Souta replied. �If
grandpa had been standing a few more inches to the left, that ball would�ve
taken his head off.� Sakura sighed and buried her face in her hands. This is
what she�d been fearing since she�d taken in Max. Max was a demon, and they
knew nothing about demonic children�the way they develop, their instincts,
their natural abilities�what if Max was dangerous? What if, despite their best
efforts to raise him well, Max just had natural inclinations that made him
impossible to bring up in their world?

�Sweetie,
sweetie�� Grandpa put a hand on her shoulder. ��we�re not talking about giving
him up. We love him too, you know.� She took a slow breath and looked back up
at the two.

�But we
need to re-think how we�re raising him.� He added.

�What do
you mean?� Sakura asked.

�I know��
Grandpa began. ��I know we agreed that we shouldn�t treat Max any differently
because of what he is�� He paused for a moment, considering his words. ��I
mean, of course we don�t want him to grow up thinking he�s different, or a
freak of nature or something.�

�He�s a
sweet kid, mom.� Souta added. �But�I think it�s important that we understand
that, in some ways we can�t ignore, he IS different.� To exemplify his point,
he motioned over to the ruined kitchen window, floor and wall. �But even more
important than that is that�HE needs to understand that.� Sakura took a breath
and nodded.

�I just�I
was just hoping I could give him a normal life.� She mumbled in defeat.

�He can,
Sakura.� Grandpa assured her. �But we also can�t just ignore the fact that he�s
got those claws we can�t clip, those fangs we can�t cap, and the strength. If
we ignore them, then he�ll ignore them too.�

�Mom, if
we�re going to let Max go out into the world, if you�re serious about him using
that crystal and going to school with other kids�� Souta continued. ��then he
needs to know that he�s a lot stronger than most people. He needs to know that
he has to be delicate with others. What happens if he starts playing with other
kids and accidentally hurts them? Or worse?� Sakura nodded. They made sense.
She had maybe been a bit too optimistic about things. She had hoped that by not
treating Max different, he wouldn�t start to feel like he was different.

The problem
now was, they had to explain to him that he was different, while simultaneously
not making him feel different.

�So�� She
placed her hands on the table in a very businesslike manner. �How do we do
this?� A moment passed as the three of them lost themselves in thought.

Finally, it
was Grandpa who broke the silence.

�What if I
taught him Kung Fu?� That earned him some amazed stares from the other two. And
not the good kind of amazed.

�We want to
teach him not to use his strength�� Souta said very slowly, as if explaining it
to a mental case. ��and you want to teach him how to fight? You sure the ball
missed your head?�

�No, to
teach him control.� Grandpa replied, somewhat offended. �Martial Arts isn�t so
much about fighting as it is understanding your own body.�

�Dad, I really
don�t know about that�� Sakura said, doubt more than evident in her voice as
well.

�As we try
to teach him about his strength�� Grandpa continued explaining. ��we also show
him so he can really understand it. He takes a few light lessons with me so
that he can get an idea of his own physical abilities. And that will give him
some measure of control.� The way he rationalized it did make the idea slightly
more appealing to Sakura and Souta, but it still sounded iffy.

Regardless,
this was something they were going to have to handle very carefully.

********

�How come I gotta wear these pajamas?� Max asked, noting
that it was daytime out. He hoped these weren�t new pajamas he�d have to wear.
He liked his smiley face ones much better than these plain white ones.

�Those
aren�t pajamas, Max.� Grandpa proudly informed him. �That�s a traditional
martial arts gi.�

�Gee?�

�Right.�
Grandpa continued. �Starting today, you�re going to learn some Kung Fu.�

�Kung Foo?�
Max repeated, the work somewhat unfamiliar. �What�s that?�

�It�s a
martial art.� Souta informed him.

�Art?� Max
wondered at all these new words. Was he wearing this because they were going to
paint, and couldn�t get his good clothes dirty?

�Max,�
Sakura began, kneeling to him and placing her hands on his shoulders. ��I�ve
told you before that you�re a special little boy, right?�

�Uh-huh.�
Max nodded.

�Well,
sweetie, you�re�� Sakura paused, trying to pick her words carefully. ��very,
very special. So special, in fact��

�Am I retarded??!�
Max suddenly asked in a panic. That efficiently shut everyone else up as they
all gaped at him. A child who didn�t know the words �Kung Fu�, �Gi�, or even
�Martial Arts� was able to pick up a correlation between �Special� and the
handicapped.

Yup, a
special kid, indeed.

�No, Max.�
Sakura finally began again, mentally noting to have a talk with him later on
about inappropriate words. �What I mean to say is that you�re�unique. And while
that doesn�t make you any less better than anyone else, um�� She paused again.
��you also have to learn how to accommodate for your uniqueness.�

Max blinked
at her.

�What?�

�Oh for��
Souta sighed, stepping in. �Max, you remember when I tried to teach you soccer
yesterday?�

�I didn�t
mean to!� Max yelped, suddenly wondering if this was all some weird sort of
punishment for all the stuff he�d wrecked.

�I know, I
know.� Souta continued, calming the boy down. �See, that was actually my fault.
When I told you to kick the ball as hard as you could, I didn�t think you could
orbit it.� He stopped a moment to give the kid a chance to digest that. �So,
before I teach you anymore soccer�or any physical sport whatsoever, you need to
learn about your own strength. Because, squirt, you�re a lot stronger than most
kids your age are.�

�I am?� Max
wondered, looking at his own arms, checking for Schwarzennegarian ripples.

�You are.�
Confirmed Grandpa. �And to help you learn balance and control, you�ll learn
some martial arts.�

�What�s
that?� The boy inquired.

�A
discipline, which helps develop the mind and body.� Grandpa informed him.

�Uh?� Max
inquired, clearly confused.

�Remember
that movie we saw on TV two days ago?� Souta attempted to clarify. �The one
where the guy did a back flip and kicked a bad guy of the roof of that building
and onto a car?� Max�s eyes instantly lit up.

�YEAH!!�
The kid�s enthusiasm was suddenly physically palpable. �You�re gonna teach me
that???� Grandpa and Sakura both shot Souta annoyed glances.
�Let�s�let�s
try this again�� Sakura began.

********

They say
that most predatory animals are more afraid of you than you are of them. This
proved to be fairly true, as Max, despite being a demon and it being well
within his capability to snap the necks of everyone surrounding him, was
downright petrified.

This was
the first time in his life that Max had ever been around so many people. Not
that he�d never been out in public before. In fact, he had gone on several
errands with his Grandma, though those were few and far in between. Here,
though, there were kids all over the place, a few adults here and there, all
running around and rushing this way and that, talking, chatting, screaming,
laughing. For a kid who had spent almost his entire life up until now isolated
in a shrine, Max found this phenomenally intimidating.

Max was
also afraid to move around too much, due to the #1 rule he had to obey while in
public and wearing the Toku crystal: Don�t let anyone feel your tail. Although
the crystal gave him a human appearance, it was strictly an illusion. While
other people couldn�t see his ears, claws or tail, they would feel them if ever
they touched them. The ears and claws weren�t so hard to conceal, but the tail
was a whole different story.

Before
coming to school, Max had been taken out a few times to the mall for
�practice.� Most of the time, he kept his tail mounted on his shoulders like a
mink, but if ever someone came to touch his shoulders or back, he had to see it
coming and maneuver his tail out of the way FAST. Luckily, he�d managed to catch
on pretty quickly, with only a few bewildered mall goers wondering what in the
hell had brushed up against them.

Now Max was
in a much more crowded area, and it made him nervous, both as a socially
inexperienced boy, and as a stealth demon. Of course, Max�s family had strictly
instructed him to, no matter what, stay calm, don�t get aggressive, and if, he
was scared, to get an adult. Uncomfortable as he was, Max simply kept his head
down and tried to find his designated classroom.

Luckily, no
one bothered the jittery boy. The most interaction he had was the teacher who
asked for his name and told him to take a seat when he entered his class. He
sat patiently in his desk, observing with interest the other people in the
room, but trying not to look like he was looking. It was also so odd to smell
this many people. Some were pleasant, some were okay, and at least one person
smelled like they were wearing a soiled pair of big-kid diapers.

While
looking and sniffing around, a girl sitting a few seats across from him caught
his attention. She was staring right at him. He tried not to look at her, only
peeping at her out of the corner of his eye. She, however, kept looking
directly at him, not focusing on anything else. Max started to feel really
nervous, shrinking in his seat a little.

When a few
minutes passed and she still hadn�t turned, Max finally grew annoyed and stared
right back at her. But his turning to face her didn�t seem to faze her at all,
and she just kept looking at him with curious eyes. A staring contest ensued
for a few dozen seconds.

Finally,
Max upped the ante when he stuck his tongue out at her.

Looking
insulted, she rasberried him right back.

Max
retorted by pulling on the sides of his mouth.

She
reprised by pulling up her nostrils.

With his
thumbs, Max stretched at his eyelids.

She shoved
her pinky up her nose.

�Good
morning class!� The teacher finally announced, making both Max and the girl
ten-hut themselves into a respectful, no funny-faced seating at their desks.

�Good
morning, teacher.� The whole class replied in unison, as their parents had
taught them.

*******

Once the
first parts of class had finished and the kids were out for recess, Max once
again found himself huddled in a corner. Watching the other children run and play
in fascination, he remained relatively quiet.

�You�re
weird.� A young, feminine voice suddenly chimed from his side. Jumping in a
little bit of fright, Max turned around to once again face the girl.

�W�what?�
He asked, never expecting a direct confrontation with anyone. Getting a close
look at her now, he could see that she wasn�t like the other kids at school
either. Her skin was a little redder, and her hair was sandy blonde.

�You�re
weird.� She repeated. �How come you�re not playing with the other kids? Isn�t
it boring just sitting here?�

�No.� Max
defended himself. �This is lots of fun!� As if to prove his point, he stared
forcefully back at the other kids with an exaggerated happy face.

�You�re
faking.� She snorted, unusually pompous for a girl her age. �What�s your name?�
Max gave an automatic response, as Sakura had told him to always give his full
name when asked.

�Higurashi
Maximus.� He recited. Pausing a moment, he then added. �But I like �Max�
better.�

�Really
weird.� She concluded. �That�s a western name.�

�Western?�

�Uh-huh.
Your name comes from the other side of the world.�

�No it
doesn�t!�

�Does too!
Don�t you notice that your name sounds different from everyone else�s?�

�I am NOT
different!� Max shouted. The girl ignored him.

�My mom�s
from the west.� She informed him. �I live in Mexico half the time, so I know
these things.� Her arms folded over her chest, as though finalizing the debate.

�What�s
your name?� Max suspiciously asked her.

�Alexandria.
Alexandria Matsuko Valdez Tanaka.� She recited.

�You�ve got
four names!� Max exclaimed. �And each of �em is weirder than mine!�

�Nuh-uh.�
She shot back. �I got four names cause I�m multicultural.�

�Multiculpable?�

�My Dad�s
Japanese and my mother�s Mexican. They want me to be a symbol of both my
cultures, so they gave me two first names, and two last names.�

�That�s a
long name. Don�t you get tired of saying it all that all the time?� Max asked.

�Sometimes,
yeah.� She admitted.

�Don�t you
have a nickname? Like me being just �Max�?�

�No, I just
use my first-first name. Alexandria.�

�That�s
still pretty long.�

�It�s not
that long.�

�You could
still shorten it.�

�Well,
sometimes people just call me Alex.�

�That�s
still too long.�

�What??�

�You could just
shorten it to �Al�.�

�No I
can�t!�

�Why not?�

�Al is a
boy�s name! God, you�re dumb!� Max snickered.

�So? For
you, it shouldn�t make that big a difference, Al.�

�You jerk!�

�You
moron!�

�Butthead!�

�Pie-Brain!�

�Hijo de
puta!�

�Y�what?�

�Blockhead!�

�Uh�baloney-butt!�

�Son of a��

******

Present

��bitch!�

�Skank!�

�Crotch-rot!�

�Clitoral
fungus!�

�Ass!�

�Lack
thereof!� Max called back at her, but was pretty sure that she was now out of earshot.
He simply �hmph�ed, and headed to the cafeteria, cursing the luck of having her
as a partner for that last history project.

To say that
their relationship was always that bad was a bit of an overstatement. Truth be
told, they were somewhere in that narrow area between acquaintance and friend.
And they�d probably stay there, considering this kind of thing was fairly
regular.

After
picking, with great discrimination, what he�d be ingesting from the cafeteria
menu, he approached the same familiar table he ate at, with the same familiar
faces.

�Ladies and
gentleman,� Dai announced as Max approached. �The man will one day receive a
kick to the crotch hard enough to create a black hole between his legs!�

�Thank you,
thank you.� Max cheerfully replied as he took his seat. �And yet still, in that
experience alone, my crotch will have had more female contact than any of yours
ever will.�

�I am just
downright amazed she hasn�t taken a swing at you yet.� Ciro noted.

�So what
was that all about?� Dai inquired between slurps of his noodles.

�Aw, the
usual.� Max grumbled, as he picked at his meat with a plastic spork. �She said
I made our presentation �Less serious� or some shit like that.�

Max and Al
had been assigned together to do a history report on the oppression of the Jews
in Nazi Germany. They had worked together just fine until, during the actual
presentation, Max had decided improvise in order to lighten the somber mood:

Flashback: 15
Minutes ago

Al and Max stood before the class, both holding their
respective papers, both going over the horrors of the holocaust. As Al went on
with her half of the report, Max noted the dark, depressed look of the entire
class. It wasn�t pretty. He felt the need to do something about it.

��although the war had great financial woes on Germany,
and the Nazi government was forced to instigate several major cutbacks,
extermination of Jews was nevertheless a program which they refused to relent
on. In a general staff meeting��

�Someone sneezed.� Max interrupted. Al turned to look at
him confusedly.

�Wh�what??�

�Adolf
Hitler was conducting a General Staff meeting, when somebody sneezed.�

�What
the hell are you talking about?� She demanded.

�So when
Hitler heard it,� Max continued. ��he whirled around from a map of Europe and
said �Who vas that!?�� Max imitated a thick German accent, while Al gaped at
him. �When no one answered, Hitler said �I see. I vill have 10 of you shot. And
maybe zen you vill tell me who sneezed?� A Gestapo agent took 10 people out of
the room. Shots were heard, then silence. �I vill ask again,� yelled Hitler,
�who sneezed?� Again, nobody said anything. �Very vell�" he said, �I vill
have another 10 of you shot!� The Gestapo agent escorted 10 more people out of
the room and executed them. �For ze very last time,� screamed Hitler, �Who
sneezed?� Finally the guilty officer could stand no more. He stood up and said,
�It was me, mien F�hrer. I am the one who sneezed.� Hitler slowly approached
the shaking officer and said,�

�
�Bless you.��

The
entire class, teacher inclusive, burst out laughing. Exclusive to this,
however, was Al, who wore a facial expression that clearly indicated her desire
to castrate her partner.

End Flashback

In her
fury, Al claimed that he�d undermined the seriousness of the holocaust, and
their report. Max tried to defend his position by referencing Mel Brooks� �The
Producers� as Jewish payback via mocking against Hitler. Al told him that Mel
Brooks was a hack and prick.

THAT had
gotten Max mad. And that�s about where the name-calling started to fly.

�C�mon,
man, you know how she is.� Ciro piped up, trying to cheer up his friend.

�Yeah, yeah, I know.� Max grumbled. �But I seriously thought
she�d get a kick out of that one.� It had been a pretty depressing subject to
research. Watching her in the library going over those holocaust books, Al had
seemed even more depressed than usual. He�d just wanted to liven her spirits a
bit.

�You�d have better luck raising John Lennon from the grave
and convincing him to take up gangsta rap.� Dai continued. �Seriously, why do
you even talk to her? She�s just another one of those stuck-up bitches.�

�What�re you talking about?� Joe shot back. �She ain�t rich.
Is she?�

�Naw, she�s like one of those Goth chicks who�ve got those
holier-than-thou attitudes.�

�She ain�t no Goth.� Joe shot back again. �She dresses
normal.�

�Not really.� Kato added. �I know she�s got a body, but she
keeps wearing all those heavy clothes.�

Max zoned out the conversation at hand. He didn�t really
care to gossip about Al, even though she wasn�t exactly in his good graces as
of now.

But then again, really, what were you expecting? He wondered
to himself. It had been virtually the same old routine between the two for the
past ten years.

He�d known her since the very first day of school, and
they�d ended up going to every same educational institution together. They were
never exactly friends, but they weren�t hostile either. Most of the time. Al
was one of those girls that could easily be stereotyped by others due to her
somewhat unsocial behavior, but Max knew her well enough to know that she was a
bit more complex than that.

She was an odd one. Back in grade school, she actually came
off as just a bit snooty, so naturally Max had loved annoying her. Even as a
kid, she had taken things pretty seriously, but she did so with a lot more
life. Once, she had come to school complaining about the deterioration of the
ozone layer, something most other kids their age didn�t even know of, let alone
care about. Max had jokingly suggested getting the entire school to poop in a
pile to help create fertilizer to feed the plants.

She�d thrown her chocolate milk at him.

Nowadays, she was still serious, but in a much more passive,
almost defeated kind of way. She�d grown gradually cynical, sometimes downright
self-righteous. Sneering at most other people, rolling her eyes from any
conversation she overheard ranging from sports to computer software. She
scowled at politics, frequently referring to politicians as either �Idiotic�,
�Corrupt� or �Blitheringly Incompetent.�

She did have her own group of friends, although they only
hung out together occasionally, and they were mostly composed of Goths.
Actually, it seemed that half of the time she couldn�t stand them, but she
could relate to their �Damn the world and damn humanity� conversations. She did
leave, however, as soon as the subject of their conversations turned to
vampires and Wicca.

Not that she thought that she was better than anyone. In
fact, she even oft times complained about her own lack of resolve to do
anything productive or beneficial.

Oddly enough, Max and her did sort of hang out whenever
either of them had nothing better to do. Although it wasn�t so much based on
any semblance of liking each other, but rather on their utter familiarity, and
thus comfort, with each other. Usually, they kept it civil, although Al would
inevitably moan about some injustice, and Max would try to cheer her up, and she�d
shrug it off. Or yell at him for being such an immature boob.

Maybe the reason Max kept talking to her occasionally was
because he secretly really wanted to get her to laugh at something. Smile.
Hell, even snort, but the girl was an impregnable wall. Max had no idea,
though, why she kept coming back to him.

Max was, after all, a fine example of everything she claimed
to detest: He was mostly apathetic towards global events and politics, he split
his time between sports, video games and movies, and was a bit of a clown.

I mean, fuck, I�m not an asshole, but I just can�t drop
everything and cry every time some village in some third world assfuck country
loses a goat.

�whoa, speak of the devil herself.

Amidst the plethora of smells emanating from the cafeteria,
Max suddenly picked up her familiar scent, and peeked off to the side. There
she was, on the other side of the room, on a lone corner of a table with her
bag lunch and ever-present sketchbook.

That�s what she did end up doing with most of her time.
Drawing and sketching. Oddly enough, though, she wasn�t taking any art classes,
although Max had seen her work and she was pretty good.

She hadn�t shown him voluntarily of course. Max had once
swiped her sketchbook, drawn moustaches on all her figures and discreetly put
it back. While he had had it, he glanced over her drawings and still-lifes, and
found them surprisingly good. It almost made him feel bad about defacing them.

�almost.

She had also been uber-pissed when she found out. Luckily
for him, he�d left no evidence in the sketchbook leading to him.

�Max!� Ciro said again.

�Eh?� He turned his eyes back to his group.

�How come you got the steaks today?� He asked. �The ramen�s
on special.�

Max grimaced in revulsion.

�Because that shit�s disgusting.� He sneered. �I can�t
believe you all put that industrial crap in your bodies.�

�It�s cheap, and it�s flavorful.� Kato argued.

�I would rather eat an anthrax-flavored corpse.�

End Chapter 2.

*********

A/N: Story seems to be shaping up a little better now.
Still, I want you all to review with the utmost mercilessness that you can, so
I eventually upgrade this to a mildly tolerable read.

(It�s also only fair to say that I got heard that Hitler joke
at a party. Can�t remember who told it.)

Go on. Make me feel pain. Make me your bitch.

Koday.
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Nikanaru	By : Koday Category: InuYasha > General Views: 3209 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own InuYasha, nor make money from this story.

Nikanaru