OK, I'm not that sure about this fic. I don't know how it'll turn out, but I'll be trying with all my might to make it have a realistic, happy ending. This is just a teaser for the actual fic, an important scene from a few years before the time that the bulk of the fic takes place. It's going to be a bit darker than True Happiness. Also, this chapter has people getting hurt in it, and people getting sick. It is not for the squeamish. You have been warned. Read this and tell me if you think I should continue.

Disclaimer: I've made a change. I'm only saying it once in this fic, so pay attention: I DON'T OWN FY!

Warning: I'm also only going to say this once. At some point, this story will have yaoi/shounen-ai content. Possibly also yuri. Haven't decided yet. If that bothers you, you're a closed-minded idiot and you aren't wanted here anyway. If you flame me about it, I'll laugh.

----Scars----

When you're on the streets, people don't want to know your story. To them, it doesn't matter whether you ran way from home, like me, or got kicked out, like my friend Kouji. His parents basically disowned him when they found out he was gay. But people don't care about that.

They don't care about you at all.

You have to care for yourself.

So that's what I'd been doing for five years. What I was doing that day. I was caring for myself the way I'd learned to, over the years. By relieving those more fortunate than me of bits of their fortunes. I saw myself as a bit of a Robin Hood, stealing from the rich and giving to the needy. The needy being me.

That day was just like a billion others. Wake up hungry, walk around hungry for a while, maybe run into Kouji. Pick potential 'victims' out of the crowd. I wasn't having good luck that day; nobody seemed to be preoccupied enough. It was a warm day, and too many people were walking around without coats, carrying their wallets in their jeans. Impossible to get at. I couldn't even find anyone carrying a purse.

Then I saw him. Medium height, with light blue hair. The hair is what made me notice him in the first place. You don't see hair like that every day. I myself have bright orange hair. It's a bit of a hassle to have hair that stands out a mile when you're in my line of work, so I'd taken to wearing a hat when I was 'on duty'.

Anyway, this blue-haired guy was walking along the street, obviously off in his own little world. To make it even better, he was wearing an unzipped windbreaker with his wallet in the pocket. I almost laughed in disbelief. How much easier could it be?

I walked along behind the man, pretending to be interested in the displays in the windows of the stores we were passing. I even stopped once or twice at certain windows, always keeping a close eye on the guy's reflection.

Once I'd determined that he was going to stay in that little world of his, I walked quietly up behind him and slid my hand into the pocket of his windbreaker. I had grabbed the wallet and slid my hand out when the guy came suddenly back to earth. "Hey!" he yelled.

In shock, I nearly dropped the wallet, but I had the presence of mind to keep a hold on it and to turn and run.

At least, I tried to run. That guy had a hold on my arm, so it was a little hard.

"This guy just took my wallet!" he was yelling, disbelief evident in his voice. People were already gathering, and I just wanted to get out of there. Someone would call the police soon. I wanted to drop his wallet, really I did, but my instincts were in full control at that moment, and they were telling me to keep the wallet. So that's what I did.

You don't know how many times I've regretted that decision.

I struggled for all I was worth, trying to break the guy's grip. He was much stronger than I gave him credit for. I couldn't get him off, and everything in me was screaming for me to get away. Maybe that's why I went for my last resort.

I've regretted that, too.

My last resort is to pull out my knife. I hate hurting people, I hate it with everything in me, but a kid alone on the streets is as good as dead without a weapon to at least threaten people with. So I reached into my jacket and pulled out my knife, hoping that the sight of it would be enough to make him let go.

It wasn't. So, like the idiot I am, I swiped behind me with it. I didn't even turn to check and make sure he was out of the way. I just assumed that he'd see the blade coming at him and duck. I hoped he'd let me go.

But he didn't duck.

He was too busy trying to keep me from pulling free to see the knife. I sliced the air behind me without even looking, until, with a sickening feeling, I felt the catch as the metal connected. I felt it tear through whatever part of the guy behind me I'd hit, freeing itself with a jerk.

That scream was one of the worst sounds I've ever heard. I still hear it sometimes, in my nightmares.

In utter horror and disbelief at what I'd done, I ran. I didn't know what else to do, and I couldn't just wait there like an idiot for the police to come.

When I was a few blocks away, I paused to look back. A crowd was already forming around the man, and through them I could just see a flash of blue hair over a pale face that was spattered with blood. His hands were both clasped over his left eye, and he was kneeling hunched over on the pavement, whimpering, blood running thickly through his fingers.

"Oh, gods," I muttered, feeling nauseous. I kept running, finally reaching an alley where I sometimes hung out with Kouji. I raised a hand to wipe sweat from my forehead and saw that I was still carrying the knife. The blood on the blade had already begun to dry...I threw it as far away from myself as I could and rushed to the Dumpster at the end of the alley. I emptied what felt like everything I'd eaten for weeks into it.

As I was wiping my mouth on my sleeve, white and trembling, Kouji showed up.

"Hey, what's wrong? Man, ya look like shit!"

Shakily, I shook my head and tried to breathe.

What had I done?

-----------To be continued

Or not. You decide. Do you like it this far? Do you hate it, and think I must've gone insane to write something like this? Tell me, I want to know! Should I continue it or not?

I just started this fic because I don't think anything like this has been done before. One night I just suddenly thought, out of the blue, that I'd never seen a Tas/Chi fic where Tasuki gives Chichiri his scar. Because this is going to be a Tas/Chi, as unbelievable as that sounds. Did you forget who you're dealing with?

I was trying to show that Tasuki (or Genrou, as it were) is completely disgusted with what he's done. He can't even believe that it happened. Poor guy. Please don't hate me for what I did to both of them, it'll be tough, but I'll do my very best to make it better if you want me to continue.

~Mikazuki