Shinigami Profiles

Tsurara-u (meaning: Icicle Rain) :  Masaru's pupils dissipate and his eyes glaze over with a light blue color; activating this ability places Masaru in a less severe state of noetic gnosis.  He sees concentrations of water molecules in different locations and controls them.  Moving them into larger concentrations above his target, he freezes them into stalagmite-like icicles that swiftly fall upon his *prey.  Though this sounds like a long process, it's not at all.  Masaru can complete this move apace and without much stress to his stamina.

Shimo yo ke (meaning: Frost Shield) : While in his state of mental gnosis (like that of the one caused by using Tsurara-u), Masaru can move water particles around him and freeze them with great speed.  Doing this forms a temporary shield from incoming strikes.  His great mental power gives him much control over what's going on around him so he can even block some unseen attacks by hearing them just before they approach his body.

If he so wishes, he can cover the entirety of his body in ice to protect himself from oncoming attacks to repel them, and possibly even freeze oncoming blades upon contact with the ice. If a weapon is caught, the ice spreads up the length of the weapon, possibly trapping an opponent if they do not release and escape swiftly enough.


Tou Kobu (meaning: Congeal Inspiration) : Masaru moves particles of water in the air, like that of his other technique, and densely covers his arms or legs with them.  After creating a shape, he then freeze the particles creating armor/weaponesque constructs that move with his appendages.  For example, he could form a razor-sharp, sword-like blade around his arm or add spikes at the tip of his feet.  This is Masaru's main advantage at close range fighting.

Hōgan Suru (meaning: Encompass) : Masaru encompasses the enemy in a humanoid-sized shard of ice.  The longer he holds his target in the shard of ice, the more energy he expends. This is an extremely fatal attack if not dealt with correctly.  Masaru has the ability to place extreme pressure on the ice, squeezing the target inside, and then ultimately, shattering the shard into thousands of minute pieces of ice that in turn, slices open areas of the target.

He can create multiple groupings of such ice shards, in varied sizes to take out a larger area of opponents when in battle.

Sometimes, if his target is quick but it only manages to encompass a single limb, it's power will still effect the the body part that was captured.

Fukozai (meaning: Antifreeze) : This move is kept secret. Only Masaru himself knows of the ability. Masaru only uses it in dire situations where he absolutely feels there is no other option. Masaru unleashes a large blast of ice needles upon the enemy that is nearly impossible to avoid.  The ice needles are created the same way as he does the ice in his other techniques.  

Though this power sounds a little faint in comparison to his others, it's actually not as weak as it seems.  Masaru concentrates really hard and pulls the purest particles of water in the air to create the coldest ice possible.  When these ice needles pierce flesh, they ensure frostbite with certainty.  They're so cold, it's feels as if your flesh is burning.

Shikaku Atama (Clairvoyance of Mentality):  If Kaimu weakens the target to a certain extent, he can gain complete  control over their physical body.  This power pretty much turns the target into a puppet of which Kaimu is the marionette master to.  The person he controls' eyes begin to glow dark purple, and the person loses all consciousness while under the control of him.
Note: Since this is an RP, I'll keep it so he uses it on like...animals or shit if he ACTUALLY uses it.

Sashimasu Baransu (Piercing Equilibrium): Kaimu shoots a small, black dart of energy at his target which cut their equilibrium.  This causes extreme states of nausea which, if used in at certain times, could be fatal.  The target will need strong will to overcome the sickening feeling and dizziness.

Kusata Ude (Festering Appendage):  Kaimu has the ability to transmute his arm into a rotten, festering, piece of meat that, in a way, just dangles there.  However, if he moves this appendage with haste, its combination of speed and corrosive acid can do much detrimental harm to the target.

Kurai Busshitsuteki (Dark Matter): Kaimu close his eyes and clears his mind to make orbs of dark matter manifest themselves in the surrounding area.  If any targets come in a decent, close range of them, the pressure of the gravitational field made by them becomes intense causing the targets to become slow and sluggish.  This effect, however, doesn't apply to the user.  This gives Kaimu the upper hand when moving around to strike with this Festering Appendage.

Jiyuuishi no Ouroboros (Will of the Ouroboros):  As a last resort, Kaimu touches the ground he walks on and the image of the Ouroboros appears approximately 10 ft in front of him.  The eyes of the Ouroboros radiate red, and an eerie, dark miasma emanates from the circular image and chases down Kaimu's target.  The miasma acts almost as a cytotoxin causing *irreversible necrosis (rotting of the flesh) when it permeates the skin of the target. HOWEVER!  The use of this power also takes a major toll on its user.  The user slowly rots from the inside out himself until he finishes off his target.  *If the enemy destroys the user, the necrosis from the miasma is reversed.

Name: Shi o motarasu mono 死をもたらす者 (Bringer of death)

Unreleased Form: Setsuna’s zan when unreleased takes the form of a nodachi. The hilt is black and white sharkskin and the guard is shaped like a tear drop. The sheath of the zan is speckled with different shades of black and white. The blade itself is a stark white.

Spirit Form:

Inner World: Everything in the inner world is black, but there is a single beam of light that shines on a gnarled old tree. From the tree hangs a young girl from a noose. The other half is a young man knelling at her feet as her body swings from the tree.  


Shikai Command: Chissoku sa seru  窒息させる (Suffocate)

Shikai Transformation (Optional): Setsuna is engulfed in a mass of whirling wind, and when it clears, her zan is gone.

Shikai Form: There is no sword to speak of. The wind becomes her blade.

Shikai Abilities:
Setsuna’s zan has two different types of abilities. The two zan spirits each give her something different. From the young man, she gains the ability to manipulate the air around her. The base ability is a vortex of air that travels so fast it is invisible to the eye. The speed grants her a passive ability to reflect any energy based attack launched at her. This surrounding air also makes it dangerous for her opponents to get near, acting similar to a fan of sharp knives. She can expand and retract the vortex as she pleases. However, she may also manipulate this air at any time. The air can be manipulated as she pleases.

The ability the hung girl gives her is the ability of death. Setsuna can literally manipulate the element of oxygen. She can completely pull it from you lungs if she so wishes. She can take the oxygen the flows through your veins and turn it into a weapon. She can kill you in an instant if she uses the powers of this spirit.

Bankai Name: Shūen no megami  終焉の女神 (The Goddess of Demise)

Bankai Command: Sorera o kaitai それらを解体 (Dismantle Them)

Bankai Transformation (Optional):

Bankai Form: Same as before

Bankai Abilities:
Setsuna retains all the abilities of shikai, but she gains a new ability. In this form, Setsuna is able to manipulate the very structure of an atom. She can destroy anything and everything with a mere thought, not even requiring to lift a single finger. She may also utilize this manipulation to bring herself back from death, regenerating her dead cells. Technically, if she were to explode, Setsuna would be able to recreate herself from even from a single atom. This would obviously take quite some time and place an extreme toll on her.

“What do you mean we’re moving?!”
Norma yells and she slams her hands on her kitchen counter. Her husband Henry looks frustrated as he paces back and forth through the kitchen.

“We can’t stay in Ireland. There just isn’t enough work here. My buddy says it’s so much better in the Japanese Soul Society. It won’t take us long to get there. Just a few boats and trains.”
Norma picks up a nearby cook spoon and throws it at Henry.
“I don’t care how long it takes to get there! I don’t want to go Henry. This is where our home is, this is where we grew up, where we raised our kids!”
Dodging the spoon Henry sighs.
“I know dear, but we are barely making ends meet. We’ll be out on the street by the end of the year.”

“What makes you think that won’t happen in Japan. We don’t know anyone there Henry! At least here we have family and friends. We don’t even speak Japanese!”
“We can learn! We are smart, and resourceful!”
Her anger grew at this statement. Norma walked around the counter and grabbed her husband by the shoulders.
“Why can’t we be resourceful here?!”
“Dammit Norma! There aren’t any resources left here. It’s become a waste. It’s get out or starve.”
Tears filled Norma’s eyes. She knew it was true, but there were so many memories here. Memories that she held in her heart. Why did she have to leave them behind?
“Henry, if this doesn’t work out, I will never forgive you.”
“It will love, just have some faith.”
“Faith…”

Alexander began his life in the outer East districts of the Rukongai, born to a merchant father and a housewife mother who had a penchant for books and reading. Their house was rather typical of the poorer districts, being small and rather cramped, forcing them to go without much, but the family was happy despite the conditions they lived in. For the first few years of his life, things went on as one would expect. His father, a more stern and silent sort of man, did his best to gain the family he had started with his wife any sort of wealth so they could leave these districts for safer ones, so his mother had the responsibility of raising the young Alexander. As he grew into a toddler, he had easily learned how to read and talk rather quickly, which gave parents much joy, especially his mother.

The years continued on, and around the age of six, the young Alex was absolutely entranced by the collection of books in his household. While other children would be out playing, Alexander was inside reading, always reading. Even at this age, he was able to read at a much higher level and understand stories and plots that other children would completely miss. Although his father thought his son was missing out on his childhood, his mother always defended his hobby, and every birthday thus far the six year old had received a new book to become entranced by. Overall, life continued for the small family as expected; That is, until one fateful evening.

Crime had always been a hallmark of the outer Rukon districts. The further one got from the center, the worse it became, and the harsh reality of their situation would come crashing down upon the small family. As dinner was being prepared that night, bandits and pillagers had decided that this household was to their target, after hearing about a merchant man who had managed to finally get some money. Alexander, hidden away in his room, had his nose buried in one of his books before being shaken out of it by the sounds of shouting and screaming, which immediately caused the young child to hide as best he could in the shadows of his room. Peeking out of the doorway after an eerie silence had replaced the previous noise, he was greeted to the sight of blood spattered all over the walls and the bodies of his parents huddled over each other, the crimson liquid staining their clothes as it pooled underneath...

The young child could not process fully what had just happened, or rather, his mind simply refused to in order to protect him. He looked at the bodies with a dead stare, a stare that almost seemed zombie-like in a way. All of a sudden, he started running. He ran right out of the house without a second thought, or a first even. He ran, he ran, and he continued to run, throughout the night and for the next few days. When his small feet became bloody and scrapped and he collapsed of hunger and thirst is the only time he ceased to continue running. Fortunately for the younger Alexander, he had managed to make his way inward quite a bit, to the districts where crime was rare instead of commonplace. Doubly so it would turn out, for his small body was found by an elderly couple who took pity on the child in torn rags and decided to take him in.

When his eyes next opened, the child was surprisingly not greeted to the sight of a face-full of dirt. Instead, he saw an elderly woman smiling at him, happy that he was alright and not seriously hurt. He had been nursed back to health by the nice old couple. The older man explained to the young Alexander where he was and where they had found the boy, wondering how he had ended up in this district, but the boy was dead silent. Whether it was because he simply had nothing to say, or he was still in a state of shock from what had happened, it was hard to say. Before they could continue, the boy fell back asleep, almost like he had collapsed again. He continued to sleep for the next few days, almost as if his soul was doing its best to piece itself back together.

Once he was able to rejoin the living, the child stayed with the old couple for a few days, doing menial chores and such. He did not have to, according to the old woman, but he did anyways. He was fed and taken care of, and despite the fact that these people were not related, the young boy felt as though he was back home, as if nothing ever happened...perhaps it was this reason then, that within the next few days, the young Alex left the household, unable to cope with the similarities once the realization hit.

So the years would pass, and the child grew into a teenager. He was on the streets again, but the older Alexander survived, doing what he had to do such as stealing food when he was hungry and clothes when he needed a new pair. He would cleverly design traps or situations in which he could easily take things while the victim was distracted. His mind was his greatest weapon. Alex had one rule, though; He never stole from the needy or the poor, just those  who could afford to do without. Nobody ever managed to catch him, he was pretty smart after all. Nobody except one man, a Shinigami who had been traveling in the Rukon. He had been the only one quick enough, both mentally and physically, to catch him in the act.

"Is this what you want to do with your life, son? Don't you want something more? To do something that matters? You're a smart kid, I can tell that because you almost got me...so make use of what you have." The robed man told the younger Alexander, before letting him go and being on his way. The shinigami could have taken him away and had him locked up, but he didn't...the teenaged Alexander could only watch as the man left, the words having obviously hit their mark at the young man's core.

Was this what his parents would have wanted from him? Would they be proud of him, given what he had been doing? He had stolen to survive, yes, but he stole in the first place. Feeling disgusted with himself, Alexander would take the man's words to heart. Instead of stealing, he began to take odd jobs for local merchants, enough to earn money to eat and survive. With the money not spent on what he needed to live, he spent half of it on books and the other half he anonymously left at the door of the elderly couple who had rescued him, feeling indebted to the kind people for giving him a new lease on life. He would learn, and he would follow in that man's footsteps and become a Shinigami and do great things. Something his mother and father would be proud of.

So the teenager became a young man, one who would apply to the Shinigami academy and pass the entrance exam with flying colors, of course. He was a smart person, and spending his time reading and learning had only amplified that. He didn't talk, though. He kept to himself and did not attempt to make friends, or even socialize. Throughout his early years, Alexander would only speak when answering questions from the professors, always managing to give the correct answers. While he was an ideal student, he showcased a natural aptitude for the sciences. After graduating, not to anyone's surprise, he was immediately picked up by the Research and Development Division.

Now the young man was in his element, and at this point, he finally felt he could start making a difference. Invention after invention, research project after research project, the young man was able to make significant impacts in his new position. Over the years as he rose through the ranks of the Division, the young man would grow into a man, finally culminating in his appointment as Captain when he was around 112 years old, a position he has held ever since. For the next 800 years and still counting, Alexander has continued to use his brilliance for the betterment of the Soul Society. However, despite everything, he still has an aching desire to prove his worth to his parents, wanting to return to the districts of where he was born and make things right so that no child would have to share his own fate as a orphan, something all too common in the Rukon.

[End Shitty Bio!]

01 No Reflection - Marilyn Manson
02 Iron - Within Temptation https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sco7GZOn1P8
03 Lonely Day - System of a Down https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DnGdoEa1tPg
04 Menschsein - Oomph! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HWUKVGcndlA
05 Big in Japan - Guano Apes https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q9jJufz9RNE
06 Through Glass - Stone Sour https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GIzDsGyxsQM
07 Death is Wasted on the Dead - Deathstars https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=obIB3ZqED-I
08 Lacrymosa - Evanescene https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oxFvdunfv-4
09 Tell me Baby - Red Hot Chili Peppers https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xm_tSqFbW0A
10 Enjoy the Silence - Lacuna Coil https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RTOLMbKjLeY
11 To Youth (My Sweet Roisin Dubh) - Flogging Molly https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=smyQRprA4NQ

Walk on until you are numb.

And the world is tinted red.

The 17th century was certainly not the best time to be born – especially when the Thirty Years' War was still raging over all of Europe. Though neither death nor life could be stopped.

It was at the Southern part of the Kingdom of Austria, just where the border of Carinthia kissed Italy, where this story started.

328 feet on the Karnische Alpen, 16 feet away from Hohe Warte was a small needle-tree forest. Pointed needles that were diamond shaped in cross section, attached to the twig with wooden pegs and whorled around the branch. Spruces. It was a spruce forest roughly 29 square-feet in size, fetched out in front of a stone cliff that reached 16 feet in height. At the Southern edge of the forest a small, wooden cottage was located, seemingly overlooking Carinthia. To the left of the cottage, a little stream was running slowly towards the Austrian province, as if it was fleeing from Italy.

It was late evening on a freezing November day, snow was falling on the already covered ground – like it was just too usual for this time of the year. The silhouettes of two men could hardly be made out in the darkness that had settled over the mountain, though it was obvious what their goal was.
The cottage.
Slowly the two men, one much taller than the other – though both above average, forced their way through he snow, which easily met their chests. It was certainly no weather to be outside, but today was different – the taller man, Alfred, had to fetch a doctor.
The baby was coming.

At times like these it was annoying that they had to live so far away from the small mountain village, though his wife's exotic looks were just too much trouble when trying to live in that village. Red hair... still nobody accepted redheads. Alfred hurried his steps even more, the three layers of cloth and fur luckily sheltering from the biting cold. And the excitement... it was pushing him forward, pulling the doctor behind him to make them go even faster. They had to make it on time, they just had to.

Finally he could make out the light shining through the frozen windows of their small cottage. Candles have been set up and lit in front of them before he had made himself on his way – to make their home light up even brighter. Alfred tightened his grip on the other male's sleeve more and fasting his steps, forcing his way through the heavy snow with his tall body and determination – making it look easy.

Then they finally reached the two front stairs leading onto their porch, both things hidden by the snow, though by now Alfred knew where to place his feet and without slipping once they made it safely in front of the rough looking, wooden door. Once reached Alfred immediately pushed it open, his brown orbs instantly glancing over at the far right corner of their cottage, where the single bed of his wife was located. Before he could take in the sight of her sweaty body he already felt a poke in his side. Instinctively he made room for the doctor, who stepped into the cottage and immediately let his heavy, brown fur-coat slide onto the floor – Alfred following the gesture and letting his own slip onto the floor – the sudden heat would otherwise make them faint. His brown eyes followed the smaller man's back, who made his way over to the small counter, filling a pot with water which he then placed over the stove. It needed to be warm. All the way the doctor did not sent the woman on the bed a single glance. Of course not. Alfred huffed before stepping over to his wife with wide steps, with his size of 7'6” it took him only three to cross the room completely. Once he was next to her small bed he kneed down, glancing at her face as she gave him a meek smile and grabbed her hand softly between his large ones.

“I am here, my Love.” he said, his voice rough and deep. The woman's smile grew a little wider, before it disappeared behind a wince again. Even now, she was nothing but beautiful to his eyes. Her flaming red hair was glowing even more in the firelight, which tinted the whole room a soft orange. Her eyes, usually so pale, were striking... she was determined to fight for their child.

“It is going to be alright.” he murmured and held her hand just a little tighter as she gave him a nod, movement could finally be heard behind them again. The doctor had fetched the pot with the luke-warm water off the stove and was coming towards them, soft cloth draped over his right arm.

“Get out of the way, Alfred. You are useless here.” the doctor said harshly, his green eyes set onto the woman laying in so much pain. Immediately the tall man complied and hurried backwards, until his back connected with the wall. There he set in silence, knees pulled up to his chest and eyes fixed onto his wife, who was once more wincing in pain.
She was doing great.

“Anna.” he called her softly after the other man had laid down the cloth on the bed and placed the pot onto the floor, pulling her legs widely apart. “Anna.” Alfred called her again and finally turned her head away from the doctor and settled her eyes onto her husband.

“It hurts.” she breathed out, a slight sob in her voice.
“I know.” he murmured before he swallowed heavily. He could not stand seeing her in so much pain.
The woman merely chuckled though, closing her dove-like eyes for a tiny moment to shake her head. “No you don't.” she corrected him amused before her eyebrows knitted together at another surge of pain.
Like always his wife had a point. He knew the pain his job brought with him, cutting wood was certainly not an easy task, and he knew the pain of burning himself... but giving birth?

“It is going to be alright.” he whispered again, though this time he did not know who he was trying to convince.

…

Two hours. He sat there for two hours, his bottom had turned numb after the first one already, before his wife gave a final shriek and then... then nothing could be heard beside her panting. Slowly Alfred said up straighter, his curious eyes fixed onto the doctor who held a tiny being against his chest, giving the thing a light slap on the back before... wailing. A baby was wailing. Alfred swallowed heavily watching the other man wrap it into the cloths before he finally acknowledged the husband in the room again.

“Congratulation.” the man said. “It is a boy.”

Alfred felt how a sob built up in the back of his throat and his eyes became teary. Then he quickly leaned his body forwards and crawled up to his wife's side, brushing over her sweaty forehead.

“Did you hear that, Anna? You presented us with a boy. A wonderful boy.”
Again she smiled up at him, though her eyes looked so tired – the light was gone from them. “Yes.” she said, her voice just above a whisper.
“What are we going to call him?”
“M...Michael.”
“Michael?”
Her smile became larger as she nodded. “Yes.” she confirmed.
Alfred too, nodded, a silly smile spread over his lips. “Michael it is then.”

Then he finally turned to the small bundle still located in the doctor's arms. “His name is Michael.” he told the man, forgetting that he had most likely heard them already. Though in this moment he could not act any different. He was so full of joy. “He is going to be a wonderful boy.”

“No.” the doctor answered, the man's old face holding a sneer.
Confused Alfred blinked. “Wh...why not? How can you say that? How dare you.” he said harshly, only calming once he felt his wife's gentle hand on his left lower arm.
“Alfred.” she said softly.
The doctor said nothing though, but pushed the tiny bundle into Alfred's arms which had opened immediately.

That was, when he saw it.

Red hair. His son too, had that cursed red hair.
Alfred's eyes closed tiredly, his expression showing utter defeat as he held the boy close to him.

Oh Lord, why were you testing us like that?

&&&

Going to school at these times was unthinkable. Michael sighed heavily as a pout formed on his lips. It was uncommon for a child at his age to want to go to school, but even though he was only seven he could think of nothing more exciting.
It was certainly better than working on the fields or helping in the forest.

Michael sighed again as he leaned forward, placing his head onto the palms of his hands – his elbows settled on his knees as he was sitting on the front porch to their cottage. It was summer and even though it was usually colder on the mountains it was still hot enough for him to wear a sleeveless shirt, which was hanging loosely over his brown pants. Both clothes made out of cheap linen, covered in holes and dirt. His family had no money to buy nicer clothes, nobody had money for anything anymore.

The young boy lifted his left arm, brushing his fingers under the brown cap, which sheltered his hair from view, and scratched his scalp. Yeah, the pout on his lips became even bigger, he had chosen the worst of times to be born.  

“Michael!” he heard his father shout and immediately the boy sat up straighter. “Your break is over. Come back and help me.”

The boy nodded, unaware that nobody could see him anyway. “Of course, papa.” he chirped before jumping off the porch and running towards the tall man.

&&&

Michael sighed heavily as he grabbed the wooden handle of his saw even tighter before he continued to saw the tree trunk. He hated this job. He loathed this job. Though what else was there to do? By now the people were so poor that just the tiniest bite of food was a blessing. Almost nothing could be gained out of the harvest anymore and the little they had they had to share with their animals, otherwise those would become just too weak to survive.

Politics. Politics had them come this far down and then they called it the Lord's punishment. Why would he punish those who had nothing to begin with? Michael huffed as he directed all his frustration into his task. Church and politics. And of course, it was so easy to lead the stupid ones... the uneducated ones. No wonder they banned the schools, rather have the people work like mindless slaves on the fields. Europe was going down the drain, and he was right in the middle of it.

“Michael, my dear. You have been working all morning now.” he heard his mother say as the petite woman slowly walked towards him, attentive of the wood laying on the path. “You should take a break, my boy.”

Michael sighed once more, felt how the frustration left him as he let go of the rough handle and turned around to glance at his mother.
She was cursed like him.

“It's alright, mother.” he murmured, even with his tender ten years he already reached her shoulders. Size was the only thing he inherited from his father.

She shook her head while glancing at him worriedly. “You should not work yourself to death, Michael. We'll manage.” she said gently, but the boy only scoffed.

Manage? How did she think they'd manage?
Fights had broken out, because the hunger had become too much. Every village on the mountainside was on war-path with the other.
It had cost his father's life last year. Now they were alone – no... how did the woman intend to keep them alive if he was not working?
No village liked to help the widow and her son and certainly no village wanted to do so when already suffering.
And helping those who looked like the devil? They had to work for their own now, could not trust anybody to help them.
His mother needed to wake up.

“I am not hungry.” he said as he turned around, not sparing a single glance for the basket she had brought along. “I will work until the sun is down. Maybe you can talk with the elders again.”

Though he was not sure if he really liked that. The elders... they were too much politics... were too much church. They already disliked his mother for her appearance, though had got used to her. They loathed him. He had heard them trying to convince her to drown him in the mountain lake.
Of course she had refused, still... putting those ideas into her head... he did worry what they might do with her.

“But Michael...” she started, trying to reach out and place a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“You should just leave.” the boy said again, his voice void of any emotion as he wrapped his fingers around the handle once more. “Besides, Peter will be over soon. He said he'll help me.”

He heard the woman sigh before she picked up the basket once more, turned around and left slowly.
Good.
Michael started with his task again.

He had said the truth, Peter really would come over soon. Though Peter was five and certainly of no help at all. The boy's parents also were not too fond of the idea of their little darling helping the redhead.

“Greetings, Michael.” he heard the small chirp behind him. “Greetings, Peter.” Michael muttered, not even turning around or sparing the small boy a glance. “What should I do?” the boy asked innocently while stepping to the bigger ones side, glancing up at the stern face. He liked helping Michael, because Michael was unique. In all his short life he had never seen anybody look like him.
Well, besides the other's mother... but he liked Michael more.

“Go and clean the forest ground. We'll need every wood we can get for this winter.” the taller boy muttered, though Peter ignored what was said, instead he continued to stare up at Michael's face until the bigger boy's crimson eyebrow started to twitch in annoyance. “What is it?” he muttered, still not glancing at the brown haired kid though.

“Why don't you ever put off your cap, Michael?” the boy asked curiously.
“Why would I want to do that?”
“Because you are special.”
“Old farmers don't like special people. I rather leave the cap on.”
“But... but it looks so cool. And with the sun you look...look like a fireball.” The boy giggled. “You look like the sun, Michael.”
Finally the redhead stopped every movement completely and glanced down at the curious face peeking up at him. “You... you really think so?” he asked, a slight blush of embarrassment tinting his cheeks red.
The other boy nodded eagerly. “Of course I do!”
Michael could not help himself, but smile widely down at Peter. “Thank you.” he said happily, which the other answered with a nod of his head and an innocent smile of his own.

…

The two boys had been occupied for two hours, Peter cleaning the forest ground and Michael switching between saw and ax to cut down the trees, when they suddenly heard a pair of angry footsteps coming their way. Scared Peter looked towards Michael, who had his eyes set into the distance as he placed down the tiny ax he used to chop off the branches from the trunk and stood up straight.

“Your father is coming, Peter.” Michael murmured and immediately the boy's soft green eyes lit up. He turned around quickly to glance at his father, though the wide smile was wiped off his face as he saw the man's angry march towards them.

“Fa...fath...?” Before Peter could finish his question though a loud slap rang through the forest, the tiny boy laying on the hard forest ground holding his burning cheek as tears rolled down his face.

“I... I am..”

“I told you... I ordered you not to help those kind of people.” the black haired man barked, his wild beard huffing as he spit out his words. “Especially not that devil brat.”

Michael shook his head as he jumped off the trunk, walking carelessly towards the tall man. “Now, now Martin.” he murmured. “Was that really necessary? It rather makes you look like the devil.”

Slap.
Michael could feel how his ears rang from the impact and his head snapped to his side, though the impact itself – nothing. Again he felt nothing, like so many times before. Therefore he merely blinked with bored, pale-orange eyes at the tall man, who looked even angrier at the lack of reaction to his slap.

“You son of a whore.”
Michael sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “I can guarantee you that my mother is not a whore. Though you might want to watch out what your wife is doing in her freetime.”

A wild roar could be heard before a wide body slammed itself against his lean frame, knocking the boy against the forest floor as punches rained down on his body.

Ridiculous.

He could feel the touch of the other man's first, could feel how the warm blood was running out of his nose, over his bleeding lips and down his chin. Though nothing else. There was nothing.

Martin continued to let out his frustration until he was too tired to raise his first again, panting heavily he looked down at the boy's bored face. A ten-year-old should not wear such an expression and with that red hair that was visible now that the cap had fallen off... too surreal, too wrong... the boy should never have been allowed to live. They should have sent him right back to hell.

Growling Martin showed his teeth, which contrasted with his black beard, while tightening his grip on the boy's throat – stealing his breath and for the first time he could see a flash of fear in the spawn's eyes. Good. Again the man growled as he picked up a wider branch, holding it like a hammer over his head. He'll free them all from this curse. Then, ignoring his son's shocked scream, did he bring it down on Michael's head, delighted once seeing the wide gash that appeared on the boy's forehead. Though he could hear nothing. The boy did not scream, did not cry... and the bored look was back. Did that devil not feel any kind of pain? Feeling once more frustrated Martin intended to bring the branch down once more, when his hand was suddenly gripped. Surprised he turned his head, looking up at the witch of all people.

“What do you want?” he spit out.
“You are hurting my son.” the woman said coldly, an angry glimmer in her own pale-orange eyes.
“Hurting? Hurting?” Martin asked, his voice mocking before he nodded down at the redhead. “Does he look like he is hurting? That freak.”
Anna's eyebrows knitted together in confusion before she too, looked down at Michael. A long gash was running down his forehead, bleeding heavily, nose and lips were bleeding too, purple bruises already appearing on his visible skin. Though those eyes... so detached, so careless...
What was this thing?

…

Michael growled as a second male came over, holding him down as he tried to kick the first guy in the chin with his right leg. His eyes glimmered angrily, his cap had fallen off long ago and a long tear was parting his shirt now. They had suddenly attacked, out of the blue. He had no clue why or how – they did not even look like people from the mountain. They looked like people from the city... smelled like people from the city.

Why... why were they here?
He punched a third man in the nose before his hand was held down by a forth.
Why was his mother just watching from the porch?

“Mo...Mother!” he called out as they bound his hands behind his back, two others binding his feet together. “Help me!”

“We paid her a month's income for you. She won't help you.” the first man said before lifting the lean body up and throwing him over his shoulder.

Wide-eyed Michael continued to look at his mother as they carried him away. “Mother!” he called out again.

Though nothing... calmly she looked at him... or was there a sign of distress on her face?
Though what did it change? She was not coming for him. She was not helping him.

Two.
The love of a mother was worth two Schilling.

---

Knowledge is the key to the world.

He had no clue where they brought him, or what they intended to do with him. By now he even had lost count of the days he had been sitting in his dimly lit prison cell. The cold of the rough stone was crawling up his bare skin and no matter how much he tried to pull his frail limbs closer to his chest he just did not warm up anymore.

His breathing though remained calm and collected, so unlike to what it had been during his journey here. Here. He took another deep, even breath and tried not to cough. For all the knowledge they said was collected in cities they certainly did not know how to keep their city clean. For somebody like him, who so far only had smelled clear, clean mountain air it was almost suffocating to be here now. No matter how far underneath he was, something he had found out some nights after his arrival, when the filthy water of the rain filled his cell and made him feel even colder.

The boy pulled his legs even further against his chest, his belly at least having stopped to demand food days ago. It did not stop his body from feeling nauseous though, bile raising up in his throat. The burn of it at least was lost on him.

The silence though was becoming unbearable. He had always been rather lonely and calm for his age, but he had at least always had the opportunity to annoy the elders, talk with Peter, …. or his 'mother'. By now the thought of her at least did not bring tears back to his eyes. Maybe his body was too dehydrated to form any more, or maybe had become too tired of crying. His mind though was still filled with images and thoughts of her.

Why?

Why had she abandoned him? It used to be them against the rest of the world and now suddenly the whole world, including her, was against him. What had he done for them to hate him this much? He had covered his hair for them, often hid himself from view, had worked, alone, without being a weight to them, to the community. He had never stolen, like the other village children do now, had never killed nor destroyed another's belongings. But he still was not what they wanted.

A small pout formed on his lips while he tried not to sniffle. Well, now he had no reason any longer to do anything for them.

Slowly, with a skin-crawling creek, did the iron door to his cell open.

If it even mattered anymore.

-

His breathing was coming in short, irregular gasps while his wide, fearful eyes glanced up at the high ceiling. Today was the first day they had dragged him out of his filthy, cold cell and he wanted nothing more than to go back in there.

It was a wide room, telling of wealth and power. The walls to his left and right and straight ahead were made out of glass. Behind them a little higher up, was a balcony. The boy had never learned to count and doubted that even if he could would he be able to make out just how many pairs of eyes were staring down at him. Their eyes were just like those of the elders; disgust, arrogance, and... was that curiosity?

The crimson haired had no time to ponder about this any longer. The old metal chair he was strapped down at creaked slightly as it was turned backwards, forcing his thin frame to be laid out for them. His heart was beating so widely that he feared it would jump right out of his chest. His starved body shivered while tears clung to his widened eyes. He wanted to go home to his mother.

“Welcome gentlemen, to the exhibition of our latest specimen, Rot.” (Rot = Red)

For a moment he was ready to lash out, wanting to inform that fat cat that it was 'Michael', but... he did not want to be him any longer. Michael, who was abandoned. Michael, who was hurt. Who wanted to cry.

The boy set his lips into a thin line and turned his head, the thick, brown leather around his neck stopping him down, chocking him slightly. And yet he managed to stare up evenly, to lessen the shacking of his body.

The plump male looked down with white-birdlike eyes, which became wary for a moment. It was never promising if a Satan child looked like that. The man swallowed heavily, his back straightening and his fat belly standing out even prouder. He flickered his bushy, white beard and then finally was able to pull his eyes away from the specimen to address the audience once more.

“The University for applied science of Vienna is proud to have caught one of his kind. He shall be our key to knowledge.”

It really was easy. Working on corpses only gained one so much knowledge about the human body and the Catholic church did not support experiments on living humans. The boy was no human though. He was a freak of nature.

A cold touch against his left cheek caused him to jerk out of his musings and brought him back to what was happening. For a moment he wished he was weak enough to just pass out, though what would earn him that in the end? They would still look at him in disgust and he would still sit in this chair, spread out for their eyes to see, while the brown leather bonds cut into his flesh. He felt how his warm blood tickled down his neck, wrists and ankles. No, showing weakness might just strengthen their will.
He wanted to break it.

“Now, Rot, I would advice you not to move, this should not be just an exhibition but a lesson too after all.” “Les...” Though before he could finish the sentence the cold metal was pressed down against his eye socket, causing his breath to hitch before he held it completely.

He did not dare to move as the apparatus pressed down, pushing his eyelid up and back before his eye was forced to widen more than ever before. He tried to swallow the whine of fear that threatened to bubble up in his throat. He could not stop himself from pressing out a “What are you doing?” though.

The fat, bearded man completely ignored him and turned back to their audience. “Today is a grand day for science. We will now inspect the eye of a living being.”

The boy's heart beat widely as he took deep gulps of air, only the rushing of his blood in his ears was louder than the clapping of their hands.

“Why... why are you doing this?”
This time the lecturer turned around, taking hold of something that resembled pincers. “This is science, freak.” The boy swallowed heavily.
“What is science?”
“The only way we humans evolve and become more.”
Those words rang loud in his ears, though as the other brought down his strange tool was he unable to form any more words.

“Feel proud, boy. Never will something as disgusting as you be more important.”

And once more did he find himself unable to move, to find a coherent thought, even as those pincers pushed his lid a little further up before slowly and rather carefully pulling his eye out of its socket.

The men “ohhh”ed and “ahhh”ed and the sound of clapping reached his ears once more. He could barely hear as the other directed another man over, who should draw his eye, which was completely pulled out of its socket, only connected to strings of muscle and nerves any longer. What the lecturer had to tell about these was completely lost to him as he stared shocked straight ahead while hot tears trailed down his hollow, pale cheeks.

He had no clue when he had passed out and was brought back to his cell.

-

They did not touch him those next days, merely brought him something to eat and drink before vanishing again. He did not mind too much. He stayed curled up on the cold stone floor, his torn clothes again not shielding him. There was no pain in his eye, not even a burn and that almost scared him more than anything else. They pulled it out, prodded and poked it before finally setting it back in its place – and his body did not feel it. As if it had never belonged to him in the first place.

They were right – he was nothing but a freak. The boy blinked once.
Was it not what they wanted? They were not allowed to experiment on living humans. Only on freaks like him. And he could not feel it to begin with. Maybe, just maybe, he should not see it as a curse but the only way to raise. True, his mother hated him enough to sell him to such a place, though if he had stayed on the mountain it would just have been a matter of time until they would have stabbed him from behind or burned him like a witch. Feeling it or not, it was not a fate he wanted to meet.  He rather would have his body taken apart and be at an university. He was not only at the center of knowledge, no, he was indeed the key to it. They would learn from him and it was only fair if he learned from them.
He would make them see.

-

Making them see turned out to be more difficult than he would have expected. How do you do that when one had everything and the other nothing? He wanted this too, to be so untouchable while it frustrated others and not him.

The boy shook his head, pulled back out of his thoughts as he was once more standing in front of 'his' chair. By now he had every right to call it as such, seeing as it was already stained with his blood, coloring the once bright silver into a rusty looking red. He still had no clue what they had been prodding about between his legs, making them gasp and only call him freak once more – apparently it was not something a boy should have, all he knew was that it left him bleeding. Enough to have passed out and them trying to keep the bleeding at bay as much as possible. They could not have him die after all.

The boy blinked once, his eyes wide as he stared at his chair before he was pushed into it and restrained once more.
It was true – the answer would come to those patient enough to wait for it.
He would have to remember that.

-

The next time he bled heavily was days later, inside his prison cell.

His hazy, unfocused eyes stared up at the blackness that was his ceiling, while he heard how his own heartbeat slowed down and his blood was bitter on his tongue. He ignored the panicked voices around him and the fussing to keep his body alive. It was numb again, as much as always, and for a moment he wondered if it was not just better to die here and there, to pass on and maybe meet that devil they all confused him up with.

Though if there was one thing they all taught him so far, mother, Peter, the males here at the university, then it was not to give in. He finally had his chance, the chance to learn everything and frustrate them by doing so, that he just could not give up.

“I...” He swallowed heavily, the blood in his throat almost causing him to cough. The only reminder that he had just bitten his wrist hard enough to cause serious damage. “.... will do it again.”

“Now, don't be a coward, Rot.”
He closed his eyes. “I am not afraid.” After being forced to watch them dangle his insides around before being sewn shut again like a doll he was not afraid of anything anymore.
Or well, at least not of this. “And it does not … matter which reason I have to... end up dead. All you...” He licked over his bloody lips. “... you need to keep in mind is that you have to use corpses again when it happens.” He finally turned his head, staring blankly into the doctor's eyes. “We will keep special watch then.” “You cannot guarantee for my safety.”

A thoughtful expression crossed the man's face, and something close to panic. Never had he felt more powerful. He wanted to cling to this emotion, by now knowing how to do so – become untouchable. There was nothing they could blackmail him with, nothing to threaten him with. They were at his mercy.

“Why are you telling us this?”
Rot licked his lips once more. “I won't do it again if you give me knowledge.”

And they did.

-

After that incident, almost seven years in the past, had he moved prison cells. For how could he keep books in a cell that was so often filled with water? To his dismay that one was not any bigger and while he grew it became smaller and smaller. For as long as they taught him though and gave him free access to all the information he wanted would he not complain.

The wards by now were glad about this. With his seventeen years Rot easily towered over all of them. His seven foot and three inches would be intimidating if it were not for his lanky frame. The often starving and the rough violence on his body made him look... scary.

He walked between two men who he got to know as Lukas and Heinrich. Strong names for men who only pretended to be it, though Rot would not mention it. He could not bother to do so, for it would make him just like them. He preferred being the monster, the devil, they all feared for that, and just that,  made him untouchable. And oh so powerful.

It showed in the way he walked. His back always stiff, never once relaxed and especially not hunched over. His chin was tilted slightly in arrogance, his body language enough to have people staring at him. His skin was deathly pale and almost sickly looking as it was stretched tightly over his bones, making him seem like a skeleton, like a walking corpse. It did not help that by now his body was covered in scars, bright, angry red signs of where they had already violently opened his body to take a peek inside. All for science.

The only reason why he still clung to his life, the only reason why his pale, orange eyes had become dull over the years. The lack of freedom, the lack of power to experience all that he had read about. The lack to gain more.
It was about time...

The now young man reached up, the movement causing his two guards to flinch in fear, though he paid it no mind as he brushed his hand through his now knee-length, bright crimson hair. It stood out even more against his skin and the cheap, black pants and shirt. It suited him just fine, even though he preferred the clothes those fat cats wore. Maybe that should be his next goal – wealth.

For now he fluidly sat down onto his chair, his back remaining stiff while one long leg crossed over the other. He had become used to it all. Their many tools that had been created to take him apart, the needles and strings that sewed him together again and the following days his body fought against the infections and illnesses.

“Today, gentlemen, we shall finally start our studies on the heart.”

And like all those years ago they started to clap, though this time it did not cause him any fear. He remained aloof in his chair, by now not even needing any restrains any longer. Maybe the only thing that still made him slightly panic – reminding him who he was and what fear felt like. He shook that thought off as soon as the lecturer came closer and instead laid backwards after taking off his shirt.

His eyes remained on the high ceiling throughout the procedure. The scent of alcohol that filled his nostrils, then the slight pulling sensation on his skin as they cut him open. Then the pressure on his chest, robbing him of every breath, as the strong metal pushed his torso apart to reveal his lungs and heart. He tried to keep his body from panicking, knowing he needs to breath evenly or he would pass out. He only turned his head to his left as the metallic taste hit the back of his throat. And just as he did he opened his mouth, allowing his blood to tickle out of it, past his thin lips, over his cheek and down onto his shoulder. At least he would not choke on it anymore even though his breathing set out for a moment as they carefully lifted his heart out of its protective shelter. He was mesmerized by it, barely hearing as the blood gushed down of the throbbing muscle, and hardly believing that it was his.

He felt so numb.
They cried in joy.
He already knew what would come next.
Only one part held more mystery that the heart and he was not ready to part from his brain.

He needed to leave before they were ready to part from him.

-

It had not been all that difficult in the end. After another session in the lecture hall had he managed to slide two vials up his sleeves, letting the methanol create a thin, invisible path to his cell. They did not expect him to cause trouble and the liquid did not smell strong enough to be worrisome. The cleaning ladies would work in the middle of the night and he only had to wait for dinner. With the knife he cut his hair a little shorter, with the wooden fork and his wooden door did he create a fire. Science did the rest.
While he waited a few moments for the fire to weak the door enough did he drench his shirt in his water before wrapping it around his mouth and nose.

He ignored the screams coming from outside, the water that was being wasted in vain. He had made sure the fire would not be brought under control anytime soon. Instead he kicked against the door, causing it to splitter in its weakened state, before he started to run. That was the only weak point in his plan... he had absolutely no clue where to run. Or which doors would open for him, though the urge for freedom was far too big for him to cower back in his cell... or anywhere else safe in this university. If there was such a place.

The young man knew that the best way would be upstairs, at least then he would not be caged in this fire. Along the way he sidestepped the guards, who were currently too busy to fight the fire or run themselves.
So far though, all doors to upstairs remained locked.

For a moment he started to panic. No, no there had to be a way up for the guards were slowly but surely vanishing too. He coughed once, pressing the cloth tighter against his mouth and nose before wrapping his long hair loosely around his neck. By now the flames were licking everything they could reach and the wood groaned in pain before it gave in. He did not want to catch fire anytime too soon.

His orange eyes, for once seeming to burn, quickly glanced around before he spotted the back of somebody turning the corner. Immediately he set himself into gear, quickly following the person while being mindful of his steps.

It turned out that he had almost given up so close to his goal, for around the corner he found an old wooden staircase, the door leading to it already broken and burning on the first steps. The young man did not care, he stepped over it as if it was nothing and finally caught sight of who had been running. It was no guard, though instead seemed to be one of the other experiments they kept locked away in those cells. That man, seeming to be in his late twenties, did not turn out to be all that lucky though. Escaping from a prison cell just to be locked under a wooden beam, which was pressing him down against the stair platform, breaking his rips for certain.

Rot did not care though. Not even giving the other a second glance while he stepped past him, only stopping as he felt a hand wrap around his ankle, the pull on it stopping him in his tracks. He turned his head, glancing down at the man who was looking up at him with begging, deep brown eyes. “Please... please help me.”

The young man remained silent and simply pulled his ankle free before turning around. By now the smoke became thick around them, causing him to become slightly dizzy.

“Please. Please I beg you. I...”
“No.”
“Wha? Why not! Please.. please I will give you everything but...”
“No. Nobody has ever helped me.” Why should he help others? When he was too weak they left him behind too after all.
And so he turned around again, taking a few more steps before he glanced down at the crying man once more.
“Besides. Two survivors are not a pretty number.”
“What... what do you mean? Wait! You cannot do that! Please come back!!! Come back!!! I don't wanna die please! Plea... you monster! You fucking monster can't let me die here! Come back!”

He did not even bother to glance back any longer though. Instead he continued to run upstairs, arriving on the second level before he turned to his left and ran along the corridor. Even here everything was already burning and in ruins, falling down next to him, in front of him, behind him. He continued on his way though, almost stubbornly, ignoring fire and the screams of pain all around him.

His breathing was coming in short gasps by now and the sweat running down his body was making it hard to see whenever it dripped into his eyes, which were by now squinted. Something exploded next to him, sending him into the wall to his left and causing him to see nothing but blackness for a moment. The young man managed to shake it off again and started to run in time just before another explosion rattled those old stone walls all around him. It was breaking down around him and with those explosions coming in short, frequent times he knew that by now he had only seconds left before the second floor would crumble.

It was the only reason why he turned to his left, running away from the next staircase he could barely make out in the distance and took the short corridor.
The dead end.

Not for him though. What had he left to lose after all? Either he would come out alive or dead, anything was better than sitting down and waiting for his end. And so he took one last, deep breath and quickened his footsteps, not halting as the big glass window came nearer.

The loud shatter of glass breaking was deafened by the explosion behind him. He felt the warmth against his back, the fire arm trying to grab him before he started to fall. He opened his eyes again then, ready to look his end into its cold, hollow eyes, though instead only meeting water.

The young man opened his mouth in surprise as soon as he was underneath the surface, his eyes widening before he clammed his lips shut. He did not dare to swallow. Instead he started to kick out with his limbs, never having learned to swim in the first place, and fought his way back up to the surface. As soon as he emerged again did he spit the water out after taking off the cloth around his face to take a deep breath while taking a look around. There, the shore. Once more did he start to kick his limbs out, groaning from the strain of his body which was close to simply giving in and falling asleep. He ignored the water, mixed with his blood, which was tickling into his eyes, blurring his vision for a moment. He could make out those lanterns though and two shadowy figures.

He coughed heavily upon kneeling on the shore, his body still hardly believing that he had indeed managed to get out of this blasted water.
There was no time to lose though. He had come this far, he would not become a victim now.

And so, once those two figures were close enough, did he quickly stand up, knocking his head against one of them while two fingers pressed against the second's neck, causing him to fall limp down onto the earthy ground.

Rot instantly removed his pants, leaving him naked before he pulled off one of the men's shirts. He dried himself off before taking hold of a knife. The young man immediately cut his hair completely off, becoming bald after he was done, before he finally removed those glass shards stabbing his body. He finally picked up one of the lanterns then, using the fire to burn all the wounds which had not healed yet or were new.

Then, after taking their few coins, did he turn and walked naked down the dirty path, not knowing where he was going, but not caring right now. All he knew was that he had to leave Europe. It was still ridden too strongly by black death, the only reason why he had parted from his hair now. The whole water tasted like corpses.

He would head for the Ottoman Empire.
He took a deep breath, his body finally calming again.
Freedom. It smelled of brimstone and burning flesh.
How ironic.

---

Nothing to offer anymore.

For twenty years he had been traveling now.
He had left Europe as fast as possible – heading for Turkey. He rather much liked that country. It was so wide spread, so much culture, interesting history, so much further than anything he had read about so far. He had stayed five years in that country, longer than anywhere else during his life, sucking it dried of its wisdom.

It was also there, that he had come across the name Zeraphin.

The name was made for him, he decided out of the blue, without a valid reason.
Why should he have reasons for anything? He was not bound down by law or believes like so many others around him. He came and went as he pleased, took the things he wanted and left whatever was displeasing to him.
People had such a short life, and they wasted it on time and the opinion of others.
A horrible thing to live for.

Apollo, simply because of the tiny aspect in his life that believed in him. Peter. He sometimes wondered if the boy... man was still alive or if he also had succumbed to the weight of society. Or had he simply fit in? Stupid believing in everything that was... unique?
The name... it did not stand for the sun, but for a child's view on life.

Rotbaron, even though the name did not suggest it, stood for knowledge. For the university that educated him while they thought he had offered something to them. In the end they were fools. People who worked with knowledge, forgetting just what a powerful weapon it was. Rotbaron... for he shall never cut his own flesh like them.

He had died in Japan.
Next to Turkey he had enjoyed what this country had to offer the most, even though the people around him never were too fond of his appearance.
Though what did it matter to somebody who had become even numb to stares?

He had no energy to shrug anymore.


See with your inner eye and you can find a whole new world.

Heaven.

Rabbit: Kokushibyou; Girl: Kemuri Chinou

When all is lost.

Heat. Heat, heat, heat. She had to get away from it, get away from it as fast as possible. It was burning, itching and oh so hurting, but her feet seemed to be unable to carry her any faster. Away from that fire.

She did not know when it happened, it was just so sudden. One moment ago, she had been in her young master’s bedroom the second her world became aflame.

It had been lighting. Yes, it had to have been lighting, which was still striking down, making her shiver to the core. It had happened earlier too. The loud roar of thunder before a yellow bolt had struck down - kissing the mansion and setting it on fire. The sound, it had been so loud, had made her heart stop for a moment before the ceiling fell down on her, burning her.

Only her young master's cry had given her the strength to crawl out of the debris and hurry over to his small form, miraculously unharmed. Maybe the God of Lightning and Thunder had taken pity on him. But fire, the fire had been crawling nearer, brushing her feet and licking up the bed. Immediately she grabbed the boy, kicked open what was left of the window and ran out into the wide openness.

Fire. So much fire. It was hurting so much. She had to get away, far away from it.

-

Now... now she was running from it. The small boy tightly pressed against her chest while her bare footsteps splashed on the wet grass: splash, splash, splash. Though she was deaf to the sound not even the rain cooling her burns was something she could make out. Only the thunder. Thunder and lighting. She knew that if she didn't try to put as much distance between them and the fire she would certainly be looking for shelter from the storm.

But the burns, they hurt so much. Hurt so much and set her aflame, but she had to get the heir away from it. Away from it. Away...

She fell, now laying on the ground, the young master rolling some feet away from her; unmoving and silent.

She tried to get up, but all strength had left her. No matter how hard her hands pressed against the wet, slippery, ground her body just would not be pushed up. All she could do was lie around helplessly as blackness started to dance in front of her eyes.

Blood was oozing out of her burn wounds, which she did not feel by now.
She was dying.
And he was dying with her.

"Ahh..." she groaned, trying once more. That's when she saw them. Saw the dark, green eyes starring accusingly at her.

She had not managed to bring him to safety.

"Oh god of Lightning and Thunder." She thought weakly, noticing how everything was becoming blurry... how the fire seemed to freeze and cover her body with ice. "Why... why had you punished us like that?"

And the last thing she saw were dark green eyes set into a blank face.
Why... why had it not shaken him too?

Then, then she was gone. Taking with her everything he had been.


You'll search for something new.

He did not know for how long he had been wandering around.
He did not know who he was - neither age nor name.
All he knew was how to take one step after the other.
And survive.

Slowly the boy crawled out from under the bushes which he had used as a shelter during the night. He was around seven years old, had dirty, black hair brushing his shoulders and framing his thin, hollow face. His dark green eyes were set back in his sockets and his lips thin and chapped. Around the waist of his frail body was the leftover of a kimono tied around.

He was slowly starving and he knew it.

But the further he had been going the rougher life became. When he was smaller people at least had thrown pieces of bread at him, then they at least cared not enough to mind the little thief, now... now they beat him up once they caught him, leaving him bloody and bruised. Humans here were slowly becoming more and more like animals - growling at each other, barking. They treated each other with disrespect and caution - as if every step could be the last one.

He did not understand why though.

Once, when he had been sitting against a cottage wall together with an elderly woman he heard her cursing 'Shinigami', blaming them for what the world was doing to them. If one were to ask him he would probably just shrug. What changed if he simply blamed somebody? Nothing.

He would still be stuck here.
He would still be alone.
And he would still be hungry.

The boy sighed heavily before slowly putting one foot in front of the other. There was no use to hurry, he had nowhere to go anyway. Though, he would not mind coming across a river today - then he could eat fish tonight. Or maybe a village - the people had to be nicer there. There was just no reason for everybody to be so... were they really cruel?

In the end they also just tried to survive.
Maybe those Shinigami really were to blame, whoever they were.
Were they cruel spirits?

The boy continued to entertain himself by thinking up more and more descriptions of those beings while marching on throughout the wide, lush green scenery.

It was beautiful here, he decided. Everything appeared so fresh and clean, unlike him, who was covered in dirt.
Indeed, finding a river today would be amazing.
The soil that covered parts of him was already itching.

-

In the end he had not managed to reach any river during the day, but at least a village.

He had managed to reach it as the sun was setting behind the line of trees in the distance, tinting everything in an golden-orange hue. Though what had caught his attention was not the gold in the distance, but the cottages so close to him.

They were surprisingly clean and well-kept.
He had hoped to finally reach a nice place again, but never dared to dream of it.

With slight curiosity in his eyes he stepped into the village once the sun had completely set and glanced around. Most of the people had already locked themselves into their shelters, the evening air still too fresh to stay outside for too long. A slight shiver too, ran up his arms as he took the main path through the village.

He already knew he would not find shelter here tonight though, not with the people ignoring him like that. So far he had knocked on the doors of three cottages, but nobody had opened him. In the end they rather left him outside too, than taking such a filthy thing into their clean homes.
He could not hold it against them.

Still, he sat down on a porch and looked up at the night sky, the moon was disappearing behind thick clouds, which were slowly taking over everything in his view. It soon will start to rain, drenching the village in its wetness and even though he did want to become clean again he was not too fond of the thought of sleeping outside in the rain.

He rather stayed here.

And therefore the boy curled up his frail body into a tiny ball and closed his eyes - staying quiet until the rain set in, which slowly lulled him into sleep.

-

"God I hate the fucking rain. Whenever that shit falls down on earth we don't get any customers."
"Mi..Miyuki. Please don't curse so much. I am sure we will get twice as many customers tonight."
"You are a crazy optimistic, you fucking know that?"

"Oh both of you, be silent." said the elderly looking woman before opening the wide doors which lead to their porch.

"Cursing at each other won..." she suddenly stopped.
"What now, old hag? Cat got your tongue?" snicked the blond behind her, before glancing over the older woman's shoulder.
"What the fuck is that?"

The woman, to whom the second voice belonged, also stepped up to the other two, also looking over the shoulder.
"Looks like a little girl to me." she said softly.

"Che." the oldest woman pressed out before she kneed down next to the small form.

"Let's just throw it away." the blond muttered before crossing her arms in front of her chest. "That thing is just going to bother us."
"Don't say such awful things, Miyuki. We can't just treat her like that."

"Him."

"Pardon?" both women said in unison an turned to the older one again.

"It's a boy."

"Even more useless then. Just kick him on the street, Konoe."

"No." Konoe said, determination clear in her voice before picking him up. "We'll keep him."


Accepting everything you find.

These women, he soon decided, were... strange.

The oldest one of them, Konoe Shiru, was the one who had woken him up and explained to him that he could stay if he wanted.
He still didn't understand why though.
There was no reason for the old woman to invite him to live here, something the five other women understood as little as him.

Miyuki introduced herself as the oldest of the five. She looked to be in her forties, had dirty blond hair, which she had tied to pigtails. Two thin bangs framed her round face, reaching her chin. Her cold, gray eyes were set deep in her face. She was tall, had lightly tanned skin and curves where they were needed.

Kyoko was the next in line. She looked to be in her late thirties, with pale skin and startling blue eyes. She had long, curly brown hair, which reached her waist and a friendly round face.

Yumi seemed to be in her late thirties too. She had a sharp face, though kind brown eyes and deep black hair reaching her shoulders. She was rather thin, and lacked the curves the other females had.

Miyuri was probably in her early thirties and had dark tanned skinned and an open and playful expression on her face. Her green eyes had the same color as freshly cut grass and her waist-long jet-black hair was wavy and almost seemed a little untamed.

Hikari was the last one. She probably was in her late twenties, had honey-colored, short hair and sparkling blue eyes.

She was also the one on whose lap he was currently sitting, watching the blond fight with Konoe.

"I am not going to spread my legs so some tiny shit has something to eat." he blonde barked at the older woman, who ran a slightly tanned hand through her gray hair.

"I am your boss. I do not ASK you, I TELL you how it is." Konoe replied, her voice even and calm.

"What is it with you? Since when do you care about bastard children?"

"Miyuki. Please stay calm." interrupted Kyoko soothingly. "He is so small, he won't need much."

"Kyoko-nee is right. I don't mind helping him." Miyuri chirped in before pushing her finger back into the pot of honey. Sweets, oh how she adored sweets.

"You are all a bunch of fools! He'll grow and in the end he'll command us around!"

"He won't do that, Miyuki." Hikari finally spoke up, her voice soft, before she turned her attention onto the boy sitting on her lap. "You won't, or?"

He merely shook his head, neither trusting his unused voice nor really knowing what to say.

"See." Miyuri immediately spoke up. "He is a good kid." Then she pushed her honey-covered finger into her mouth – loudly slurping the sticky sweet substance off it.

"What are we going to call him though?" Yumi spoke up from the floor, her back resting against the wooden wall of their cottage. "We can't go on calling him brat, boy or, in Miyuki's case, shit."

"How about Ai?" Koyko suggested carefully.

"The fuck no, Koyko!" Miyuki barked again. "That just sounds fucking gay."

"I am all for Chibi-Chibi."

"Just shut up and eat your honey, Miyuri."

"Xarath." Konoe said.

"You said something, old hag?"

The round woman merely rolled her eyes before repeating herself. "We'll call him Xarath."

"Ohhhh like the character in one of Kyoko's stories." Hikari said happily. "It fits perfectly!"

Miyuki groaned and rubbed her forehead. "We are so going to regret this."

"Oh stop your pessimism." Yumi muttered before glancing at the boy. "Xarath. Do you like that?"

And he could do no else, but smile brightly and nod.
He finally had a name.

-

Living with those women was by far better than he could have ever dream of.

Most of his time he spent with Konoe, who was kind enough to not mind his presence. She was also patient enough to help him train to speak, something he rarely had to do before.

They surprisingly wanted to hear his voice.

When he was not clinging onto Konoe's sleeve he spent time with the girls. On beautiful days they were outside, behind the cottage, where a stream was running, one he had not noticed on his first night, playing in the water or sitting under a tree, listening to one of Kyoko's many stories.

She was also the one who taught him how to read and write, something that filled him with pride.
He was finally capable of doing something.

Only during the night was he not allowed to be with them, then they were working.
He still wasn't sure what they were doing exactly. Since when was work a game?

During the night men came who visited them. They sat down in red, comfortable couches, close to  the sisters who were still present, who had not left with other men to their rooms. They talked and they laughed and they touched and when he asked Hikari told him they were playing games. Though, what games they played he had not yet found out.

Though, that was not part of his job anyway.

In order to help them out, to thank them for letting him stay, he was responsible for cleaning the cottage and when night arrived, to fill the cups of all those men, who visited, with whatever kind of beverage they wanted.

Konoe didn't seem too happy about him doing that. Often, when the men grabbed him one time too much, when they tried to lift him up onto their laps, she suddenly appeared right next to him, telling him sternly to go back to his room.

He did not like it, when that happened. He felt like he had somehow let the older woman down, as if it was not good enough what he did. As if he did something that was not allowed, but... he always played around with his sisters, why was he not allowed to play with the customers?

-

"Oh please Kyoko-nee! Tell us the story of Hotaru and Kaien again." Miyuri pleaded while rolling onto the soft green grass, some feet away from where their older sister was sitting.

"Oh yes please, yes please!" Xarath chirped immediately and sat himself down onto the brown-haired's lap. "I wanna hear it again! It's my favofaourite story." he explained happily.

"You just like it because the good guy gets the princess." Yumi said amused while arranging the flowers laying in front of her.

"No." he said sternly his expression becoming serious.

"Well why then, Xarath-kun?" Hikari asked softly while braiding Miyuki's hair, who was again scowling at him.

He did not mind it anymore though, was far too used to her expression. "Duh." he said happily. "Because the prince comes for the princess." he chirped. "I wanna have a prince coming for me too!"

Instead of having the women agree with him like he expected, they started to laugh. Immediately a scowl appeared on his face.

"You wanna leave us already, Xarath-kun?" Hikari said mocked hurt.

"No... nonono I swear I not wanna leave you!" he said, slight panic in his voice. "The prince will take you with him and me."

"So we all live happily ever after?" Kyoko asked softly.

"Yes!" he exclaimed before grinning up at her.

"Well then, I guess I have to tell the story again."

Miyuki only snorted and rolled her eyes.
Bunch of idiots.


Even if it hurts you.

"It cannot go on like that, Konoe. If he wants to be a part of the family he has to work."
The elderly woman sighed. "And what do you suggest he should do? He is serving the customers and cleaning your rooms. He is doing more than enough here."

Xarath knew he was not supposed to eavesdrop, but he simply could not help it. They were talking about him and judging by their voices it was serious. Carefully and as silently as possible he crawled closer to the door leading into Konoe's room. Kneeing in front of it once he reached it.

"Oh please, you know I am not talking about that."
"Miyuki! You better not suggest what I think you are suggesting. The boy is only eleven."
"They are interested in him! We could earn so much money if he helped us."
"I repeat, he is eleven! You haven't started until you were 200! How dare you bring this up."
"If he wants to belong here he has to work like everybody else does!"
"Get out."
"But..."
"I told you to get out!"

He could hear how Miyuki growled before footsteps were coming his way. Immediately he made himself smaller, making it impossible for his oldest sister to see him.

Once the female turned around the corner and move out of his sight he stood up before quietly hurrying to his room.

Why wouldn't Konoe allow it?
The men called him doll, they liked him being with them.  It shouldn't be that difficult to entertain them. If he ran out of topics to talk about he would just tell a story like Kyoko did.

If he only needed to be with the customers like his sisters he would do it.
He wanted to prove himself to Miyuki.
He wanted to belong.

-

That night he wore his cleanest kimono, one his sisters gave him to his birthday. It was of a dark green silk, contrasting with his pale skin and bringing out the green of his eyes.

Once he saw Miyuri leaving her room he quietly walked inside and went up to her vanity, sitting into her chair. His sisters had often enough applied make-up on him, it should not be that difficult to do on his own. Besides, he had to be his prettiest tonight, like his sisters always were, otherwise nobody would talk with him. And if nobody talked with him he could not get his job done.

Carefully he picked up the coal to draw a thin, black line under his eyes, making them stand out even more. Should he do more? Unsure he chewed on his lower lip and looked down onto Miyuri's collection of lipsticks. They were so beautiful, but if he overdid it his sisters would laugh again. Not good, definitely not good.

When he was done he carefully walked out of the room and down the stairs, peeking into the entrance hall.
Konoe was not present.
But a lot of customers were.
Good.

Taking a deep breath he tried to ignore the nervous flutter before stepping inside, unsure of what to do next.
Maybe... maybe he should just ask one man what he wanted to drink. It usually always started a conversation.
Deciding that this was most likely the best way to handle his problem he took another look around, trying to spot a friendly face.

There, on the couch a little further away from him, sat a tall, broad-shouldered man with gray hair and brown eyes. Xarath didn't really like the look in them, but the man seemed rich and therefore it was important that he was entertained. Carefully he looked around once more, only Miyuki present, but she was already wooing two other males left and right of her.
His other sisters were probably currently playing with their customers.

Once more he took a deep, hopefully calming, breath before slowly walking over to the male, his eyes only fixed on him, trying to ignore his sister who was still present. Luckily it was just Miyuki, the others probably wouldn't have allowed it.

"Good evening, Sir." he said softly with an edge of nervousness in his voice. Swallowing heavily he finally looked into his eyes, noticing how he seemed to muster him.

Then, as if making up his mind, the male smiled down at him. "Why hello, my doll." he replied gently before reaching out with his big hand, brushing Xarath's cheek. "My, my, aren't you lovely."

"Thank you, Sir." he answered to the praise. Konoe had told him that he always needed to watch his manners, especially when dealing with customers. "May... may I entertain you?"

"Entertain me?" the male repeated before a smirk spread over his lips. "Nothing would make me happier, my doll." he murmured before picking up the boy and settling him onto his lap. "What's your name?"

"Xarath, Sir." he replied, once more feeling nervous. Konoe did not like it when they picked him up and placed him onto their laps. Oh she will be so mad at him if she found out that he allowed somebody to do so.

"Xarath, what an unusual name." the man said before leaning forward and brushing his lips over the boy's forehead. "But it suits you. You are unique, my doll. And so beautiful." he continued before brushing a finger down the boy's nape.

"Thank you, Sir." he chirped happily. The man had said he was beautiful! Maybe just like one of those princesses in Kyoko's stories?

"No, no, my doll. Thank you for being here with me." Then he leaned forward, his lips brushing Xarath's ear. "Tell me, my doll. Do you have your own room?"

Immediately he nodded. "Yes, Sir. You want to go there and play?"

The man chuckled. "Oh I would love nothing more." he replied before setting the boy back onto his feet and standing up.

Xarath took him by his hand, before smiling up at him and showing him the way to his room.
Konoe was wrong. He could do it too!

Once they reached his room he let the man inside before closing the door behind them again.

"Lock the door, my doll."
"Oh?" Of course. His sisters did that too. "Yes, Sir." he replied before locking it and stepping up to the man.

Though... suddenly he did not feel that brave anymore. He did not like that smirk on the man's face and like before his eyes were making shivers run down his back.

-

"Miyuki, have you seen Hasane-sama?" Hikari asked her sister softly once she stepped into the entrance hall.
"He was waiting here for me, but now I cannot find him anywhere."

"Ah, don't worry." the blonde murmured before leaning against the couch and closing her eyes. "He left around five minutes ago."

"He... he left?" the younger one asked startled. "But..."

"Is Xarath in his room?" Konoe, who was followed by Kyoko and Miyuri, asked.

"We met Katen-sama outside and he left us some candy." the brown haired one explained.

"Yes, he should still be up in his room." Miyuki informed before she glanced at them. "He was serving Hasane-sama tonight."

"Mi...Miyuki. Please don't joke about something like that."

"Che... go and see yourself."

Immediately the elder woman turned on her heels and rushed out of the hall, down the corridor and to her son's room, followed immediately by the other females.

Without hesitation she opened the door and stepped inside, where she abruptly came to a halt.

The sheets were undone, the pillows piled onto the floor. Blood stained a path to the thin thighs of the boy sitting on the bed - his knees against his chest and arms wrapped around them - wearing an expression of utter shock.

The only noise in the room was the repetitive clicking of his tongue.


And you take it.

Konoe neither knew what to say nor what to do. Every click of his tongue sent a prang to her chest, making it hard for her to breath.

She should have kept closer watch over him.

"And?" This one word managed to bring her out of her thoughts and she set her eyes on Miyuki. Koyko, who had slowly tried to move towards the boy stopped in her tracks too.

"Miyuki?" Hikari asked softly.

"Well, boy. How much did you earn tonight?"

"Don't... don't ask him this now, please." Miyuri pleaded gently, stepping towards the blond.

She did not want to hear anything of it though and walked over to the bed, grabbing his thin shoulders.

"How much? How much did he pay for you?" she repeated and shook his shoulders.

Only this, finally, pulled him out of his trance and with wide eyes he looked at his older sister.

"Mi...Miyuki?" Tongue click.

"How much?"

"This is enough." Konoe barked before stepping up to them, grabbing Miyuki by her hair and throwing her onto the floor. "You have done..."

"He gave me some tea leaves. Why?"

"Tea leaves?" Miyuki repeated darkly. "You sold your virginity for some tea leaves?"

"What is...?"

Though he did not come any further - immediately the back of the blonde's hand met his cheek – snapping his head to the side.

Once more rendered speechless he could do nothing but hold his cheek while looking at her with painful eyes.

What... had he done wrong now?

The girls immediately took action, grabbing Miyuki by the shoulders and pulling her away from him, while she could not hold her anger back any longer. "TEA LEAVES!!! YOU FUCKING BASTARD SOLD YOURSELF FOR TEA LEAVES!?!?!?! HOW NAIVE CAN ONE BE? CONGRATULATION, YOU ARE THE CHEAPEST WHORE EVER! TEA LEAVES!!! WE COULD HAVE MADE A FORTUNE WITH YOUR ASS! TEA LEAVES!!!"

Xarath bit his lower lip until he drew blood while trying to resist the urge to cover his ears. What a horrible sound; ...a horrible noise.
Why was she being so loud?

Why could he never do anything right?

"Hikari, Miyuri." Konoe started calmly - her eyes fixed onto her son whose attention was now on her. He looked so hurt... "Escort Miyuki to her room. I think she needs some rest. Kyoko. Please clean up Xarath."

Then she turned on her heels and left the room.

Was she disappointed in him too now?
Were they all?
Tongue click.

-

"You asked for me, Konoe?" Xarath asked once he had opened the door.
"Yes. Close the door behind you and come closer." the old woman murmured while her eyes were still fixed on the papers in front of her.

The boy nodded before doing as she told him to, still limping when walking.

It was the most painful option right now, though sitting and laying weren't pleasurable either. Not that he wanted to stay in his room right now - the memories still shook him up and the smell... the smell of sweat and male musk... he just couldn't get it out of his room anymore.

Xarath clicked his tongue three times before stopping in front of the desk.

"Kyoko has helped you?"
"Yes." he answered softly.
"Are you pained?"
"Nnnnn-n-no." he stuttered.
"I hate liars."
"I am... I am sorry." he murmured before bowing his head in shame.
"You don't do this again, have you heard..."
"No." he interrupted her.

"Pardon?" she asked perplexed, confusion clear in her voice as she finally looked at him.
"I... I will do it again." he said shakily before raising his head again.
"What are you saying?"
"I want to belong. I will do... will do everything for you, I swear."
Konoe sighed heavily before rubbing her temples. "You already belong, boy."
"No I don't. I am just 'the boy'. I want... I wanna have my own family. I don't need to live off you."
"You are too young."
"That's alright."
"No, it is not. You shouldn't have been touched in the first place."
"Please." He fell onto his knees - the impact hurting him - bowing in front of her. "I just want to have a family."

Slowly the old woman stood up and glanced over his desk. He was right... even though they all made sure to always take him with them... he had always been the servant. Every sister paid her deeds. He did not.

But he was far too young for this. Far too young. She couldn't possible allow this.

"Xarath..."
"Kyoko said I am already tainted anyway."
Kyoko. Of course. She had been a geisha once. It did not surprise her that the girl would say something like that.
"It will get worse."
"I am willing to do everything for you."

Konoe sat back down onto her chair and rubbed a hand over her face.
"Ok." she finally said, her voice low. "Go and talk with Miyuri. She will teach you how to prepare yourself... your body for the men."

Immediately Xarath stood up, clicked his tongue twice and nodded.
"Thank you." he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Get out of my eyes now."

He nodded and turned around - quickly leaving her to her work.

He did not want to do it - ever again. The nightmares were haunting him but... but for them he could bear it.
Though was that not overly pompous of him? In the end he was not doing it for them, he was doing it for himself. Buying a family.
How egoistical of him.

-

Xarath had made up his mind, but that did not make it any easier.

Every night he had different men between his thighs, splitting him open and making his body cramp with pain. Miyuri had showed him how to prepare himself, the memory of that lesson still made him blush, but it did nothing to lessen any of the ache it left his body in.

When he met them in the entrance hall they were sweet talking with him, praising his beauty and sometimes even giving him gifts - beautiful jeweleries, clothes and other trinkets, but as soon as they were done with his body they left in a hurry.

Why would none of them stay? Why would none of them compliment him afterward? He had been hoping that one man turned out to be his prince, but so far he could call himself happy when they did not hurt him too much, were not too sadistic, enjoyed the power not too much.

-

"You said something?" Yumi asked and looked up from the sheet she was currently sewing.

"I am... I am starving." he repeated, clicked his tongue and started to look through the cabinets.

"Starving? Why would you be starving?"

"So far I always had this feeling that I need to eat... but those last days... I feel like I have a hole in my belly." he answered and continued his search for food while clicking his tongue. “And today... it hurts...”

"I think we have some biscuits in one of the lower cabinets."
"Thank you." he answered politely before claiming his prize.

"You said you have been more hungry lately?"
"Starving." he corrected her and clicked his tongue. "And it had never before been so painful as the last half an hour."
"Maybe you just ran out of energy. You should lay down." she advised before settling her eyes back onto her work.

Xarath nodded, swallowed down his last bite and stood up while clicking his tongue. "That's actually a good idea. Thank you."

Yumi nodded, smiling at him.

...

Xarath stepped into his room, closed the door behind himself and leaned against it. Over the last year it had changed.

He had a wider bed now, which was covered with various sheets and pillows - one more colorful than the other. The door leading outside onto the porch was covered by dark red curtains - other bars of silk were draped over his old cupboard, over his chair and some even merely laying on the floor. A huge mirror was now hanging on the wall over his desk, which was now covered with various beauty products.

Still, the huge sword laying on his bed was something new.

Slowly he stepped over to it, before carefully picking it up. It was huge and golden and... not his. Immediately he took a look around - sensing nobody nearby before his eyes settled back onto the treasure in his hands.

Maybe it was a gift?
That meant it belonged to him.

Well it was the only explanation for it being here and if it really belonged to somebody else he could give it back again. Though, who would leave something like that here anyway?
No, it was his.

-

Xarath clicked his tongue while his back rested against the doorframe leading from their kitchen outside into the garden - his feet were pushed up at the other end of it.

He had his eyes closed, listening to the rain falling outside while clicking his tongue from time to time.

His sisters had already got used to it.

"I am so bored. Can't you tell us a story, Kyoko?" Hikari asked and sat down on a chair. "Let us hear of the geishas again."

"I would do anything to be like a geisha." Xarath murmured, not even noticing how he spoke out loud, before clicking his tongue twice.

"I am sorry, you cannot be a geisha. They are artists, they are pure, y..."

"And I am filthy." he said softly before opening his eyes to glance at Kyoko.

"That's... that's not what I..."

He shrugged. "I am talking about their beauty. If I could just be..."

"I think we all want that." Miyuri chirped up before sighing dreamily. "Just imagine... us all beautiful with everybody swooning about us." She giggled.

Xarath smiled softly at her. "Yeah that'd..."

"Oh stop it." Miyuki muttered before crossing one leg over the other. "You guys know that's utter bullshit. So help him get out of that crappy daydream and don't encourage it."

"What's so wrong about dreaming, Miyuki?" Kyoko asked her softly.

"It pains him more when he finally wakes up and realizes he'll never be worth more than somebody is willing to pay for him." the blond muttered before uncrossing her legs again and walking towards him.

"Let's... let's talk about something else.” Hikari spoke up, the tune of her voice pleading. He had nothing left but his dreams, why could the other not understand?

“Now listen, Xarath.” Miyuki spoke up once she kneed in front of him, trying her hardest to ignore that annoying clicking of his tongue. “Nobody will ever love you. And nobody will ever bother coming for you.”

He swallowed heavily and tried to press his trembling lips together.

“People,” she continued. “will never give a fucking damn about you. Did any of those men ever ask you if they hurt you?”

Rarely.

“Did any of them ever ask you how you are feeling?”

Not after his job was done.

“Did any of then ever care?”

Never.

Once more he swallowed heavily – feeling how his eyes started to tear up.

Immediately the blond punched the wall next to his face.

“Don't bother crying now. In case you have not noticed, nobody cares. They do not want to hear about your dreams. They do not want to hear about your hopes. They are not interested in what you love and  what you want. They don't like you.”

Five tongue clicks were the only response she received.

“So stop your sorrowful complaining. And stop your damn dreaming.”

Miyuki stood up again and turned around.

“Nobody, will ever love you. And nobody has the patience to listen to you any longer.”

She started to walk out of the kitchen.

“You are not worth it.”

Tongue click.

-

“People often mistake a geisha for a whore when is not so. Geisha are artists, whores are merely cheap.” Tongue click. “I really would love to see a geisha sometime, but I guess... it's not possible.”

He curled himself into an even tighter ball under his bed.

She had been right – nobody cared about his feelings and he certainly could not always talk to his sisters about them. He was nothing but a whiny little boy.
Why was he so weak?

He sighed heavily and brushed a finger down the hilt of his sword, his loyal companion.
The only one that could not run away from hearing his complains.

At least this here was his sanctuary.
Under his bed nobody would ever have to see him.

-

He had just applied a layer of crimson red lipstick onto his lips when somebody knocked onto his door.

“Yes?” he purred before closing the lid.

“Xarath.” Yumi spoke up. “Konoe wishes to see us in the entrance hall.”

“I will be there shortly.” he murmured before glancing back into the mirror, feeling a prang when he did. How he loathed what he saw.

His eyes were circled with a thick, dramatic, line of black, his cheeks were adored by a light pink blush and his lips a luxurious red.
Work would start in one hour.

Xarath clicked his tongue twice before shaking his head and slowly standing up – ready to leave for the entrance hall.

Once he entered it he could barely resist the urge to wrap his loose, dark red kimono, which was barely held together with a golden sash, tighter around himself.

His sisters standing in line in front of Konoe and a stranger was surely an unusual sight.

Carefully he stepped into line, clicked his tongue and waited for further instructions.

“And this is Xarath.” Konoe said, her eyes set onto the stranger who was now mustering him. “He has been working here for four years now and is the only male in the group.”

The man nodded and took a step forward. “I will take him then. He might not be as filthy as the others.” He chuckled slightly. “And as you know Shiru-sama - only the best for our prince.”

Prince? Had the man said a prince was coming? He would... he would finally meet a prince?

“A wise decision. Your master will be well pleased by him.” Konoe murmured and turned her eyes finally on Xarath – pride in her eyes.

“Still, he asked for me to check out the goods, otherwise I would not be here.”

The elderly woman nodded. “As expected of him.”

She would have said prince. But she did not. He was no prince - just one of those nobles who liked to visit. With their shiny outsides and filthy intentions. Just like those Shinigami.

“Xarath. Please lead Yamada-san to your room.”

He nodded at her before clicking his tongue three times and turning to the other male. “Yamada-san.” he said gently before bowing deeply.

The tall man nodded in greeting before gesturing with his hand to the door. “Shall we?”

“Of course Sir.” Xarath murmured, clicked his tongue twice and lead the other male to his room.

As soon as they entered his room he closed the door behind them and locked it.

“I am here to test you out.” The man stated professionally before turning around.

Five tongue clicks then Xarath nodded. “Of course. How do you want me, Sir?” he murmured and lowered his head in respect.

“It won't take long.” the man informed him. “Just bend over your vanity and let me check how loose you are.”

How... immediately a bright blush covered his cheeks. “Pardon?”

“Well you have been working for four years now, every night and as far as I have been informed you had more than one customer a night so... my master only wants the best products. And well, you will surely understand that he is not interested in something... overused.”

Xarath swallowed heavily “Of course I understand.” he said, his voice breathless before lowering his head even more.

“Perfect. Let's get started then.”

Xarath clicked his tongue. “Do you need any lube?”

“Oh no, thank you. I have gloves.”

Of course.

Once more Xarath clicked his tongue before walking up to his vanity. He clicked his tongue three times while moving the chair out of the way. Then he placed his palms onto his desk, waiting for the other male to continue.

He could not hear, but feel how the other male came closer before careless hands pushed away the ends of his kimono – giving him free access to his buttocks. Xarath closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, trying not to flinch when he felt the other's gloved hands on his bare skin.

He hated human contact.

Before he could waste any more thoughts on it he felt how a finger brushed over his cleft, before pushing inside.

He clicked his tongue five times even though he tried to be silent.

“Hmmmm...” the other male hummed. “You could be tighter. It could also be worse though.”

Why did this... hurt so much?

Slowly he opened his eyes, watching them in the mirror as he tried everything within his power to hold back a sob.

Miyuki was right. He was only worth as much as men paid for him.
And they never paid much.

”Worthless. I am so worhtless.”


And you become small.

A wild roar rang through the cottage before a loud clash could be heard.

Konoe sighed and rubbed her temples.
“We have ruined him.” she murmured tiredly.

“What are you muttering about, old hag?” Miyuki muttered and sat herself down onto the wide brown couch.

“Xarath. We... we just watched it happen.”
“Che. He just has no spine.”
“No spine? He was too young. Far too young.” the old woman murmured and shook her head.
“He should just swallow it down. I have no fucking clue why he is such a whim anyway. Probably because you fools pampered him far too much... let him dream for far too long.”
“What should we have done then? Take away the last thing he had? He never played with other children, was only surrounded by old, twisted women and had to serve...” She placed her head into her hands. “You were right, Miyuki. I should have never taken him in.”
“Bah, he will be alright. As soon as he accepted that fact that nobody will ever see anything in him he'll stop the whimpering.” The blond shrugged. "Just as we all did."
“I already fear that moment.”

...

Letting out a wild roar Xarath picked up the chair and threw it against the door, not caring if it was damaged or not.

Between his non-stop tongue clicking he took in deep gulps of air – feeling like he was drowning.

The prince... the noble... had just left an hour ago. Without a word; just a sneer and a look of arrogance on his face.

It was just too clear what the male had thought of him.

“Nothing. I am nothing.”

With tear filled eyes Xarath placed his hands onto his vanity, looking back into his mirror – like he had done three days ago – when he was tested.

They came here, wooed him, gave him all those compliments and stopped as soon as he was beneath them. They punished, they pained and they owned.

His hands balled into fists as his tongue clicking finally stopped due to him biting down onto his lower lip.

The image in the mirror was looking back at him, smirking – mocking him.

You are so ugly. So very ugly. You are weak, spineless, without a talent, unimportant...

“I KNOW! I KNOW!”

He yelled at it, for once raising his voice before grabbing the sides of the mirror, lifting it from the wall and smashing it against the floor.

Not caring where the shards scattered he let himself fall and landed onto his knees, holding his sides while starting with his tongue clicking again.

Why couldn't he do any better?

Xarath swallowed back a sob, they would be disappointed if they saw, before crawling under his bed where he grabbed the hilt of his sword tightly.

“They have their own packages to carry and yet I am the one who is crying. Why am I not like them? Why can I do nothing but whine?” he murmured silently with a shaking voice while tears were running down his cheeks.

But nobody was allowed to see it.

-

Xarath leaned against the doorframe of their entrance door, his arms crossed in front of his chest as he watched the children play tag in the middle of the village.

He had always played tag with his sisters, he knew just too well how free one could feel when running.

Though somehow, their laughter annoyed him to no end.

He growled low while glaring even harder at them.

How dare they run around like that and laugh?

They played outside and had fun while their parents had to work. They should help out. What were they offering to their families? How could they be so happy when the world was so cruel?

When had he started to hate children like that?
They were not the only ones though, were they?
No. Shinigami... and nobles... were by far worse.

Men living in Rukongai at least had the excuse that they needed something nice during their hard life, but them?
They came here, arrogant and feeling superior, throwing their money into their faces – the money they earned for protecting and then claimed them, claimed them without ever caring.

“Gotei 13. The Protection Squads.” Three tongue clicks. ”When was the last time they came to Rukongai to actually protect?" He could not recall ever seeing something like this – if it happened, then before he had been born.

A loud squeal turned his attention back onto the children, who were now all laying on a pile and laughing brightly.

”Those little...”

“Miyuki.” he murmured instead before clicking his tongue.

The blond stepped outside and stopped next to him.

“How did you notice?” she muttered and glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes.
He merely shrugged before clicking his tongue again. “I just do.” he muttered. Ever since... it started he had become emphatic of human presences, but it was something she did not need to know.

“Have you been crying your eyes out again, brat?”
“No.”
“Oh wow, I am surprised.” she said mockingly. “What brought this change upon you?”
“I guess I died.”
“Well that's good.” she snorted. “It was about time you acc...”
“No. It's not good.”

Miyuki lifted her eyebrow and watched him turn around.

“Because I am becoming like you.” he murmured before disappearing inside.

And for the first time in hundred years surprise rendered her speechless.

-

A loud crash and then half of the ceiling fell down. With a wide jump forward Xarath tried to get out of the way, but he was too slow – debris trapping his leg under it.

He groaned in pain as he lay on the floor and wiped some of the blood out of his eyes.

Fucking Hollows.

For whatever reason they decided to attack their village – long tentacles crashing their cottages and big fangs tearing them apart.

Xarath heard a loud scream coming from further down the corridor.

”Hikari.” he thought panicked before turning and sitting up, holding onto his left leg and pulling it out. It hurt, the wood was cutting into his flesh, but nothing that could stop him now.

When he had freed himself he jumped up again and continued on his way to his room. Once he was inside he immediately fell to the ground and rolled under his bed, where he picked up his sword, rolled back out and made his way outside.

He needed to defend his family.

As soon as he was in the open again he stopped in his tracks taking in the scene in front of him. Blood was splattered onto the wooden pieces that once were cottages. Limbs laying around, people screaming in terror and Hollows roaring.

He took a deep breath and unsheathed his sword.
He'd go down fighting.

Holding tighter onto the hilt, not even knowing how to use it, Xarath clicked his tongue twice before running towards the first Hollow he saw.
Immediately the beast set its eyes onto him, shrieking so high-pitched that it shocked him to the core and then swung a tentacle at him. Xarath had just time to block it with his sword, but the impact sent him flying some feet away – leaving him breathless once his back connected with the ground.

“Xarath!”

Groaning he turned his head to his side, forgetting how to breath once it hit him.

Miyuri. She was trying to crawl towards him, her legs laying some feet behind her.

“Nonononono.” he repeated over and over as he watched her with wide eyes. “Miyuri. Miyuri go and hide! PleaAHHHH.”

The Hollow's mouth closed around her petite body and with one loud crunch she was gone.

Xarath started to click his tongue again, but before he could get one sob out he felt how a tentacle was again moving towards him. Quickly he rolled out of its way before grabbing his sword again and standing up.

Once more he dashed forward, managing to jump over two tentacles and chopping off a third one before a fourth one sent him crashing against a wall. He groaned, but this time he did not stop down. Immediately he charged forward again, intending to kill as many Hollows as possible.

But why wouldn't they come?
”Damn Shinigami.” he thought angrily as he finally managed to shove his blade into the head of one of the monsters, making it shriek once more before it fell onto the ground. He had no time to check if it really was dead though as another one was already turning up beside him, trying to hit him with its appendages.

Xarath had no clue for how long he had been fighting, but he was running out of energy, not used to the combat. He breathed heavily as he brushed sweat and hair out of his line of vision. His movements had become slower, his reaction time even longer. Therefore it came to not surprise when another tentacle managed to hit him in the side making him slide along the ground until his head connected with their former porch.

He groaned as stars danced in front of his eyes, making his hand relax around the hilt of his sword. Luckily he had already become numb to all the pain of the bruises and bites the Hollows had left on him.

He could not stop here though.

Groaning he pushed himself up, grabbing his sword again when suddenly a streak of blond came into his line of sight. Immediately he crawled over to it and pushed the wood out of the way – freeing Miyuki.

“Brat.” she chocked out before coughing heavily.
“Mi... Miyuki.” he whispered, carefully laying his hand onto her cheek. “I am... I am gonna make it alright.”
The blond laughed tiredly and slowly shook her head. “You... you always try to make it better. Nobody is ever going to try to make your world better though. Why... why do you do it?”
He swallowed heavily, not daring to cry in front of her. “Because... because that's who I am.”
“That's... that's not good.”
He bowed his head in shame until he felt her soft hand on his thigh. Immediately he looked back into her eyes, for once those gray pools shimmered softly. “But don't become like me... either.” She coughed again. “Xarath, plea...” But she did not manage to finish her sentence – her last breath had left her.

Before he could even react to it a tentacle connected with his back, slamming his lower half onto Miyuki, his upper half against the ground.
He coughed, blackness dancing in front of his eyes.

He could feel how a tentacle wrapped itself around his leg before pulling him into the air.

The last thing he saw, before darkness enclosed him completely, was a huge mouth opening up under him.
And all he could hope for, was that he would die with them.

Race: Akita