Eight Years Prior...

Running wildly through the thick underbrush of a small forest, a small dark brown puppy panted in exertion and terror as it tried to escape it's pursuer. It was dark here, and the nameless pup did not like it in one bit, the shadows no doubt hiding powerful and malicious monsters he was far too young and weak to face alone. He had already been wounded by one of his predators and thick, warm blood flowed from his soft tummy at an alarming rate. He had lost his mamma, would he loose himself as well? No, he did not want to die!

Tears gathered in golden eyes as, with the desperate strength of the dying, the young inumimi suddenly dodged a grasping clawed paw that was aiming for his unprotected furry side and ducked under a low root, his assailant momentarily stuck by his maneuver and crashing into the big oak tree nearby. He had been more or less lucky so far, but the young yokai knew that if he did not escape soon and find help, he would die alone and consumed by the various evil spirits populating this forsaken forest.

Praying with all his pure soul and spirit for an escape from his despicable fate, his tearful but silent prayer was answered, but not before he was sent flying into a patch of wild roses a few meters before him with a strong youki filled roar that shook the trees and plants and sent both the young puppy and many debris away from the powerful source of the bellow. Using his last strength to escape his entangling and sharp new prison, the unnamed dog youkai sprinted away from his pursuers.

As it was, it seemed that the way gave birth to a small trail and, with the last strength he still possessed and a faint but reinvigorating hope in his tiny heart, the brown ball of fur, claws and fangs sprinted toward the dawning sun visible through the heavy thicket of various plants and roots littering the soft and rather grassy earth below his paws. Pain racked his diminutive body, and with the last of his strength he broke free of his verdant tomb. He was free, but his lifeblood still spilled hopelessly from his body.

'So... that's it for me, then?' He thought to himself, a grimace of anguished agony twisting his little canine face. 'Will... will I see mamma again, then?' As he thought that last comforting thought, he saw some hope for salvaging his life, a small boy was playing nearby.

Half crawling, half limping on his three good legs, the young puppy uttered the most pathetic howl he had ever let slip his maw, hoping beyond reason that he would be heard... and saved. With that done, he fell into unconsciousness...

The mansion was big, and thanks to Grandmother's hatred of dust paired with her servants' almost obsessive need to be doing something, was always spotless. The young boy's eyes had -widened in shock when he saw what a big place his Grandmother lived in. It had dark wooden floors, and sparkly stained glass windows. What caught the seven-year-old boy's attention the most, however, were the many strange and wonderful artifacts located all over the house. There were paper lanterns, strange garments called 'kimonos', and scrolls and paintings of every size that decorated the mansion's otherwise empty walls.

Constance Mirandar, his grandmother, was previously a journalist who worked in Japan. Though Davis didn't know much about what she had done there, his grandmother loved to tell him stories about her adventures. She made living with her fun, even though Davis had never been so carefully watched. His Father wasn't joking when he warned him that living with Grandmother could be both exciting and scary. She couldn't stand dust- or dirt. Once the child had tracked a bit of mud into the foyer. In response, grandmother had him polish the skylight over the dining room, which had scared away any thoughts of ever angering the old woman again. Nevertheless, Davis loved her very much.

Constance was a woman in her mid-seventies, with cool grey hair almost always in a complex-looking braid. She wore comfortable aprons and indoor-wear, saying 'There are no cameras here, anyways...' She had several servants who appeared to all be fairly young, or at least younger than her. Constance was the mother of Davis' Father, and lived far away from them. The boy only saw his grandmother at very special occasions such as weddings or reunions. In fact, living with Grandmother wasn't a simple vacation; it was because Davis' lungs were bad.

He had really bad asthma, and living in the smoggy urban city with his parents wasn't good for his health. He had almost died from an asthma attack a few months ago, and that was the final straw. His parents sent him to live with Grandmother until their insurance was approved for surgery and he could move back. It had been about a month since his move, and the boy had grown rather comfortable in the mansion, with the fun and often eccentric servants and his adventurous grandmother!

Davis tossed the paper ball into the air once more, but it landed on his dark auburn hair. He had it cut short to keep it out of his way. The child had slightly tanned skin and big brown eyes. He was playing a short distance away from the estate, where perfect, level meadow transitioned into ominous forest. Even though he should be by himself, he could feel Haruo or Sakuya staring into the back of his neck from inside the house. Since it had been ages since his last attack and Grandmother kept him fed, Davis didn't look sickly at all. It was one of those rare moments when Grandmother let him play outside, though he was positive he should have to take a bath as soon as he came inside. Maybe Haruo would cook him up something yummy when he got back inside. Smiling dreamily at the thought of the cook's dishes, the young boy was brought back to the present when he heard an eerie howl.

Instinctively, he gasped and turned around, his new toy forgotten and drifting slowly to the grass. His eyes searched the woods fearfully, looking for a branch out of place. 'Be still, child, for not all monsters are to be feared...' He could hear Grandmother's motto as he took a deep breath and finally spotted it. It looked to be a bleeding, torn raggedy little animal... thing. Or, at the very least, it used to be. Eyes slipping wider in shock, the boy fell over onto his knees and hastily crawled over to the pup to get a better look. "Oh noes! Eek! It's hurt!" He screeched to himself before tenderly reaching a hand out to poke it. It was soft and he could feel the animal's heartbeat. "Oh, what do I do?? I can get someone! But what if it dies by then? Aww..." Though Grandmother might be mad his hands were dirty, she would probably be glad he saved the life of a woodland creature.

Rolling up his sleeves, Davis took the animal into his hands and hugged it to his body in order to ensure it did not fall out. Then, he quickly ran to the mansion door and knocked loudly. "Heeeeeeeeey! There's a something here and he's hurt! HEEEEEEEEELP! GRANDMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" Davis wailed at the top of his lungs, causing him to erupt into a fit of coughs, bouncing his heels to keep the puppy's heart from stopping.