Isolation Fighter - Saito, Aiko [Umizo Family Fighter]

[Aiko]

Full Name: Aiko Saito  Nickname: Ms. Smart Ass (for Ayane’s use only)  True Name: Isolation Fighter Partner's Name: Ayane Umizo  Gender: Female  Marital Status: Single  Age: 24 Birth Date: August 10th   Occupation/Grade: Ayane’s Personal Assistant / College Sophomore  Dreams/Life Goals: She has given them up. Her only purpose now is her sacrifice.  Hair: Black, thick waist-length hair that tends to curl when wet.   Eyes: Jade  Ears & Tail: N/A  Height: 5’7  Build: Thin with moderate curves   Name location: On the bottom side of her right foot, running vertically down the center.   Race/Ethnicity: Thai  Language: Japanese, English  Blood Type: A+  Weight/Body Structure/Physical Faults: She has two Identical scars on the inside of both her forearms. One is about 3” long running horizontally across her wrist; the other is about 7” long running vertically down her forearm. She also has numerous scars on her back, starting at her shoulders and going down to about mid back.  Before the age of 13, Aiko was a very quiet, meek, reserved, self blaming individual. If someone told her that everything that happened to her was her fault, she would believe them completely. She never spoke outwardly without being spoken to first, and even then she wouldn’t respond to the person on some instances. She had been trained by the Umizo family to be seen and not heard, even to the point of completely suppressing her ring and presence completely, making her seem like a completely normal human.  It was after 13 that she finally broke through the shell that had taken place over the last 13 years. She is more vocal, and usually prefers to get things done as fast as possible, not having patience for the people who like to drag their feet. She also has a temper that tends come out of nowhere, and will sometimes get her into trouble. She will sometimes slip back into the ‘seen and not heard’ fighter when it’s needed, but she hates doing so. She tends to be stubborn and rebellious, not wanting to blindly follow what someone says just because they think she should. This tends to get her into trouble, but that doesn’t stop her from doing so.  You ask about what has happened to me thus far, but I warn you that it is not as pretty and innocent as the people in my community like to remember it. A lot happened within those walls of steel and concrete without them knowing, and most would blatantly deny the truth, even if I told them. But let me start from the beginning.   My………..father was born and raised in Bangkok, Thailand but he grew up in a smaller community along the outskirts of the city. He was known to be a good man, strong and focused on the goals and Ideals he favored. He was very easily liked and admired. He had this aura about him that drew people to him, like moths to a flame. He could put on the perfect act, and people would soak it up like a sponge. It was this that he used later on to hide the secrets within our family.   Seiki Saito was a very driven man. Business came easy to him, and he seemed to climb the corporate ladder over night. He and my mother, Yumi Namura was her name before she married, had known each other since they were little kids. They grew up together, and it was no surprise when the two fell in love. Seiki had established himself within the business world at an early age, and married my mother soon after. But as the company’s ambassador, He traveled to Japan a lot, the business trips usually taking him away for several weeks at a time. This never bothered my mother, or at least, not that anyone noticed.   My mother…….She always had a smile on her face. Nothing ever seemed to bring her down, or make her sad. She was always so cheerful and welcoming that you would instantly feel as if you had come home, even if you had never met her before. She had that calming effect on people. I remember how she would always be able to make me smile, no matter what mood I was in.  But I digress. Let me continue with the telling. For a long time, they were happy. And after four years of picture perfect marriage, I was born. Most people don’t remember what happened to them when they were infants or toddlers. But I remember. Because those first years, were the happiest of my life They were also the years where everything changed. Seiki was always away of course, but I didn’t care. My mother and I were always together. She always made ordinary things into games or adventures. And She was beautiful. Long think black hair, but light blue eyes because her father had been American. It was from her where I begun to learn English.   Life was pretty much perfect for the first four years and the beginning of the fifth. Whenever Seiki would come home, we were happy. And when he was gone, we missed him of course, but things were always happy for me. That was, at least, until the spring of my fifth year. That was when things began to go downhill and faster than I ever thought possible.  ”He’s been playing us both for fucking fools. But I’m his true wife. I bore him a son.”  It started with Seiki’s problems at work. Something happened (he wouldn’t tell us what it was) and it was jeopardizing his place with the company, which was odd seeing as they had just offered him a promotion. Then there was the weird phone call that my mother had received while Seiki was away at work a few weeks later from a woman in a small town in Japan. It turned out that Seiki was having an affair, and the business trips that he always went on were not just business trips, but also family trips, to the wife and son in Japan.   But it seemed that he had fed the same lie to the woman in Japan... that the trips to Thailand were just that…..business trips. Apparently the woman had somehow found out about my mother and me and decided to see if Seiki was actually already married. Of course once the woman was aware that we did in fact exist, she began threatening my mother, claiming that she would tear Seiki away from our family because she had bore him a son. My mother was polite, almost disturbingly so. It was strange to hear her be so quiet. She still smiled and laughed, but it seemed wrong, it didn’t light up the room like they usually did. Besides my mother’s oddness, it was a day unlike any other. But I knew even then that something was wrong, and that something bad was going to happen.   “It’s about damn time you got home, Seiki….I’ve been waiting for you.”  I heard the yelling first. It was what had woke me up. I remember being scared because I had never heard my mother nor Seiki that angry before in my life. I had never heard them yell and scream and curse like they were. I had slipped from my bed, and gone towards the stairs that led to the second floor wanting to gain a better look, and actually hear the words that were being thrown. My mother was accusing Seiki of the affair, and claiming that she was going to leave and take me with her. I didn’t know what to think at the time. The very idea of not being in this house, of not seeing Seiki (whom I still loved at the time) anymore scared me more than I ever thought possible. And right as I reached the base of the steps, I remember seeing my mother falling through the air before she hit the stairs hard and slid down until she was lying on the first floor. Seiki’s hands were extended, as if he had tried to catch her.   My mother never moved again.   ”S-She fell……she was coming downstairs to greet me from work and she slipped and fell down the stairs.”  This was the story that everyone bought. The neighbors, the police, the doctors…..My mother’s neck had broken the moment she hit the stairs, killing her instantly. They all believed the act of the weeping husband who had his wife tragically taken from him, leaving him with only a small daughter. But even though I didn’t physically see him push her, looking back on it now, I know he did. Because he of what he did to me, it fits perfectly, even if at the time he hadn’t meant to.   But no one would believe me if I told them that.   Mother’s funeral was held, and everyone turned out. A sea of black amongst emerald green. There was apology after apology. Seiki accepted it all, playing his part of the morning husband. I have to wonder now, if he really did regret what he did. I mean, he must have felt something for my mother. No one could act that happy. But still…..I think her death was what brought about the events that followed.   It started happening about six months after my mother’s death. Seiki had become an alcoholic, drinking away his problems as he tried to search for another job. He found one eventually, working for a friend who pitied him, but it was nowhere near as good as the one that he once had. At first it was just a slap on the face for asking too many questions. Two days later it was because he felt like it. Within a span of a couple of weeks, Seiki had taken the liking to beating me for anything and everything. He made sure to never leave bruises on the face or neck, for that would lead to too many questions. But it got bad enough that I found it hard to move sometimes. He was always drunk, and that only made things worse than when he was sober. I quickly learned to stay out of sight, running to my room as soon as I had gotten home from school, locking the door to try and keep him out.   It didn’t work. He beat me for that too, and I merely learned to stay invisible while he was home. Saying nothing, keeping the house perfectly clean. I often burned myself when I was beginning to learn how to cook, but seeing as he would beat me for anything that was less than perfectly cooked, I learned very quickly, and by the age of six I was able to cook full meals perfectly.   I had become withdrawn, and quiet. I was no longer the sunny, outgoing child that I used to be. People noticed this and believed my mother’s death to be the cause. They said the same thing about Seiki’s drinking habits, continuously throwing pity upon us. It was sickening how gullible they were. Believing every word my father said. Including the day that I wore a t-shirt instead of my normal long sleeved attire one warm day. One of the neighbors inquired about the bruises while Seiki and I were grocery shopping. It was the only thing I couldn’t do on my own yet, I was still only six after all. Seiki merely stated that I fell, and the woman believed him, telling me that I should be more careful next time. Really….all anyone has to do is say something with conviction, and people will believe it. No questions asked. Seiki was a master at this. Thus is why no one ever suspected him.   But I digress. The beatings continued, and no one noticed. I slowly began to eat smaller and smaller amounts as I would usually throw back up anything I had in my stomach whenever Seiki was more violent. Which in itself was a usual event. No one noticed this either. It wasn’t until I was seven that I actually tried to expose Seiki for what he was. I waited until he had beaten me really badly, to the point where I had blacked out from the pain. I had woken up where I had passed out on the floor, and immediately ran over to the lady across the street. It was still early in the morning, the sun had barely begin to peak over the roofs of the houses.  “Good morning, Mrs. Keichi. Please forgive the interruption. Aiko just missed seeing you. We will return at a more opportune time..”  But the woman had taken too long to answer the door, and Seiki had heard me running out the door. He caught me just seconds before the woman opened the door. Mrs. Keichi was concerned of course, because I was trying to convince her that Seiki’s words were not true, yelling and kicking and screaming that he was hurting me, that the bruises all came from him. I am still not sure if I succeeded or not, to this day. But I do know that Seiki had moved us to Japan not two days later. He claimed that he wanted to find his son, but I knew it was to avoid the questions that would now pop up from my sudden outburst. Now before I continue, I want to state this one single fact.   I do not want your pity.   If you decide to force it on me, than it will only serve to piss me off. I am merely telling you the facts as they happened. Nothing more and nothing less.   Now, with that said, I will continue. Within the span of a week, he had moved us out of Bangkok and into Tokyo, enrolled me into the local public school, and managed to land a job that was similar to the one he used to have, but again was nowhere near as profitable. And this fact made him irritable. He never forgot my failed attempt to expose him either, and I was……punished for it.   It was on a Saturday, two days until my first day of school. He was drunk, as usual, and even though I could tell he was furious, he never touched me, all day. I hid up in my smaller room as always, but again, that never stopped him. I had been sleeping on my bed. He had opened my door softly so I hadn’t known he was there until he began to run his fingers through my hair. Now, for any normal child, this wouldn’t be any cause for alarm. But for me, it was far worse than the beatings.   ”You look so much like her… " Of course it wasn’t until he was on top of me that I realized what was happening, and by that point it was too late. I was only a little girl, and he was a hell of a lot stronger than me. But I tried fighting him anyway, scratching, kicking, hitting, squirming, trying to bit anything that came too close. When I managed to bite his tongue when he had thrusted it into my mouth, but that had only made things worse. Because that’s when it became more of a punishment. My fighting had only served to excite him further, as well as make him even angrier. I had tried to expose him, I was trying to ruin his life, just like that woman had. I was manipulating him, and he knew I liked the pain. Why else would I do things that made him want to hit and beat me? I screamed until my voice was raw, but no one heard.   I was only seven when he took my ears. Seven when in the eyes of the world we lived in, became an adult. It was also seven that the nine letters appeared on the bottom of my foot. My father was a blank, and instantly recognized me for what I was. I was a fighter, and he loved giving me orders. My first day of school, the teachers were alarmed that I was earless. They questioned my father, and he gave them a sob story that the reason we ran to Japan was so that I would be safe from the uncle who molested me.   And Yes, you guessed it. They believed him. And they showered more pity on me than I could bear. It was suffocating. The looks, the way that they treated me as if I was a child………I mean, yeah I was I guess. Seven would be considered a young age, but at the time I no longer felt like a child. Because children weren’t beaten. Children weren’t raped. And when they were, they ran to the adults in their lives, and the said adults believed them and helped them get out of the situation they were currently in. But I was too afraid to say anything this time. Because I didn’t want anything else to happen. I was so angry at them all for being so fucking gullible, for believing every goddamn word Seiki told them without any hesitation or complaint.   But I digress….again. He never molested me again, but the beatings continued. I had gotten used to them. Saying nothing and doing nothing to stop them. I simply allowed them to happen, hoping that he would be done sooner than later. It wasn’t until my 9th year that things changed once again. And if I thought that they couldn’t get any worse I was wrong.   Her name was Matsu Jenoiu. She came from a very rich family, and Seiki was instantly drawn to her. Black hair, Ice blue eyes. But she was nothing like my mother. If anything she was just as bad as Seiki was, only she never touched me. She figured that it wasn’t worth her time. Either that, or she was afraid I would give her something if she touched me. I never got the chance to find out which one it was.   They had met, dated, got engaged, and married all within six months. It wasn’t until I came across the name later that I realized that Jenoiu was an aristocratic family known within the Unit world. My knowledge of our world was very little back then.  Anyway, I digress. The wedding was huge, it seemed like the entire country of Japan had turned out to see the sickening duo unite and ‘become one’ or whatever….*shivers* ehk. Anyway, the only thing I liked about it was that Seiki had bought be a nice silk dress for the wedding. And I loved that dress.   Yup that was the one. It felt so weird, receiving a gift that Seiki had bought for me. But I said thank you like he wanted me to, and I made sure he did not know how much I liked the thing. Anyway, so the wedding day came and again, a shit load of people turned out. Kinda funny now though as I think back on it. Seiki thought he was marrying someone high up in the family, someone who would be coming into a lot of money. But years later, when I looked back on the family, I realized that he married one of the people who was low on the totem pole. HAHA, kinda ironic huh?  But anyway, I digress. So I was carted off by my new cousins. They were the only ones who didn’t seem scared of me, or pitied me because I lacked of a certain pair of parts. They were actually very nice. The two girls and four boys who viewed me as innocent as they were. It was……..nice. I was actually beginning to have fun. That was until I saw Seiki and Matsu talking with one of the Jenoiu elders, and a man I didn’t know. They must have been discussing something important, I could only guess, from that serious look on Seiki’s face though Matsu didn’t seem to care even when she turned to call me over to them. Maybe I shouldn’t have taken my time going away from my ‘new friends’ before joining them.  “ You’re daughter is the fighter to someone within our family.”  Yup, those were the first words I caught as I walked up to them, watching the ‘man’ with the elder pulling something out of his pocket to hold it out to Seiki. In a way you can say, I saw it all, my ever so never loving ‘father’ selling his only daughter for what? Nothing more than pathetic forty-one thousand yen*. That’s it…… I watched as the money was exchanged without any hesitation. And as the newlywed couple was leaving, having the pictures taken, having everyone shower their congratulations and happy wishes upon them, I was taken by a man I didn’t even know, ordered to follow him. I wasn’t even allowed to go home and pack anything to take with me. Seiki and Matsu didn’t seem to notice me leaving. They were the happy glowing couple that was walking down their row of friends and family, being showered with seeds of love hope and prosperity, while I was being dragged away. And not once, did Seiki or Matsu seemed to notice. Nor did they seemed to care. I owned only the clothes that I had on my back. And even those were taken from me.  ”Do not disappoint us, fighter.”  I learned later that the family I now belonged to was the Umizo family, one of the seven aristocratic families of Japan. I have to wonder if Seiki knew this when he took the money. Eh…..*shrugs* anyway. Oh, and before you think that the Umizo family adopted me, stop the thought right now. Because they did Not. My name is still Saito……as much as I would love to change it.   But I digress………The Umizo main house is made up of two very large portions. Almost like having two houses on the same lot. In the front, the first set of buildings you see are where the family stays. Then, towards the back part of the property, there was another set of buildings. This was where I was taken.   The main building in the front was where the fighters that trained the new fighters stayed, and yes I did say the fighters not the sacrifices. The fighters that were already bond to their Umizo counter parts were the ones that saw to the untrained fighters. The smaller building to the left is where the younger, and or newer fighters were kept. The slightly larger building over to the right is where the older fighters are moved to, once the trainers deem that they are fit to continue the training.   “If you can survive, it will be worth it in the end… " I was brought into utter silence. Not even the wind shifted through the trees as I was escorted to the very back of the property. Once inside the main building, I was brought into a small room with four fighters. All were girls. Not one said a word as they took me out of my dress, and cut my hair to my ears. I tried fighting them at first, not knowing what was going on, and nearly had my ear cut off by the scissors that were sending my long locks, the strands that were so much like my mothers, my only reminder of her that I owned, to the floor. But when those words were spoken, softly into my ear by one of the younger fighters, a girl that was in her teens at least, I was suddenly too scared to fight anymore. The tears ran silently down my face as I watched them take away everything that made me, well………me. At least in my opinion. Now the only thing I owned was my life, and even that was not mine to control anymore. They had taken everything, and leaving me with nothing to claim as mine. I was sure that even the couch that sat in their sitting room most likely cost more, and was more precious to them than I was. A couch………one that no one used. More expensive and precious to this family than a human life………  But I digress. The white uniform was what I was given. The black was what the women, and every trainer that I ever came into contact with, wore. After I had been prepared, I was taken to the smaller building off to the left side of the property. It was here that my training started. And if I thought that the place where I had come from, and the man whom the world called my father was hell, I was wrong.  Seiki, and the life I knew before after my mother’s death was nothing………nothing compared to the next four years that I would live through. Seiki………he was only purgatory. I had now entered hell.   Once I was inside, it took a moment to adjust to the image around me. Everything was white. Walls, floors, ceiling, the sheets, pillows and blankets, as well as the removable pads that we used for beds, the tiles in the bathrooms, the towels we used to dry ourselves. Even the fucking shower heads, WERE WHITE!!! There were no windows and the only door that led in or out was the one that I had just passed through. Yes, even it was white. The mats for training, the dishes, glasses and utensils that we used for eating…………… That black cotton uniform along with the other fighter’s eyes, skin, and hair would be the only color that I would see for the next four years. Maybe now you understand my hatred for the color.   There were fighters of all ages, some younger, some older. But I would put the oldest child that was with us at 11….maybe 12. No older. It seemed that they were breaking us up into age groups. Oh, and when I said that the front sliding door was the only door in the building, I wasn’t kidding. There was no bathroom door. No door for the bedrooms. There were no bedrooms. We all slept in the same giant ass room that we used to train every day. There was no heating or air conditioning. It would get above one hundred degrees in the summer, and drop to below zero in the winter. In the winter we would all huddle together, not caring about whatever issues had come up during the day between us. They would give us more blankets, but that was it. And in the summer we were given paper fans, which we could only use during school and our meals. Training during the summer was brutal. After all the training it would feel like two hundred degrees, with no air circulation what so ever.   But the showers did have hot and cold water, which we used fervently during the more extreme months. But stepping out from a nice, hot shower into a room whose temperature is standing at below zero, it often made the cold worse. Because now, you were wet. And that just made everything worse.  And there were no separation of the genders. The only thing that they did separate us for was bathing. But it was not as nice as you think. No solitary trip to the showers, OOOOHH NOO. All the girls showered together as did all the boys. And we all looked exactly alike. All the boys had their hair shaved into a military buzz cut. All the girls had their hair cut to their ears. Every three months, we were herded into the bathroom like sheep, making sure that our hair stayed at the exact lengths they wanted it at. There weren’t a lot of us……maybe 10 total including me once I arrived. And the children would come and go periodically, depending on whether their sacrifices needed them, or if they had completed the training at this level. Of course at the time, I didn’t know that. All I knew was that the faces I knew would leave, and or we would gain new ones.   Our days were sixteen hours long. We would be woken up at 05:00 in the morning, fed a very quick, energy boosting breakfast, went to a ‘school’ session of sorts, even though it was accelerated. Then we had a thirty minute lunch at 12:00. Then from 12:30 to 20:00 we were trained extensively in every form of martial arts, weapons, and physical attack in general. They taught us how everything and anything can be used as a weapon. Yes, even a spork. Don’t laugh! It’s the truth……………STOP LAUGHING.   Anyway. Oh, and don’t think that they separated us girls away from the boys. They didn’t. And those boys hated having their pride ruined by being beaten by a girl who was usually smaller and weaker than them. So we girls learned how to defend ourselves and take down someone who was bigger and stronger than us, real quick. Then dinner was at 20:30, and we were in bed and lights out by 21:00.   For the first six months, I rebelled. I tried to show them that they couldn’t control me. That they didn’t own me, that I was my own person, and not a tool they could mold into the image of what I should be. But if you rebelled, even in the smallest way, you were punished. There were only two strikes in this game. The first was simple. They took a meal away from you. Usually dinner. The second strike was much worse. The first time, they gave you five lashings. Five quick lashes of fire along your back. I soon found that the older fighters were the same ones who went through the training. They tended to be a bit more gentler than the elders’ fighters. Because you can totally tell who’s thrashing you based on the first strike. I got thrashed about 2-3 times a week for six months before I finally decided to just go with whatever they wanted. The pain just wasn’t worth it.   The training continued, as did the punishments if I didn’t perform as well as I should. They treated the wounds, but that didn’t keep the wounds from scaring. And the fact that everyone in the showers could see them made me a bit uncomfortable. Actually, it was really fucking nerve wracking. I could practically feel their eyes as they stared at my back. It was no secret, and I wasn’t the only girl who had been punished in this way. But there weren’t that many among the girls. Only me and maybe one……maybe two others. I remember there was one point in time that I thought back on everything that had happened thus far. Remember trying to figure out what the hell the point was. Just because I’m a fighter of some rich ass snot nose kid, I get put through fucking hell in order to be the ‘perfect’ fighter that the said snot nose rich kid wants me to be. Then there was the thought of if this is what the training was like, then would my sacrifice be the same as the trainers that we saw every day? If I were to do something wrong, would they beat me as well? I mean, come on……as much as I try to be perfect, I still make mistakes because I'm human.   I don’t remember getting up from my bed roll, nor do I remember finding the small knife that somehow ended up in my hands. I don’t remember making the horizontal slash across my wrists, I don’t remember the sting of pain nor how long I stood there before one of the younger trainers found me. All I remember is staring down at the bright red spot that had now stained the white tile. The pain wasn’t even there, all my eyes could focus on was that single color. I had actually forgotten what red had looked like. But one of the younger girls, no older than 18 had found me. One of the same ones who had helped prepare me when I first arrived at this hell hole. And how I remembered that I have no idea. She sighed and began to wrap my wrists tightly. Fortunately I had attempted the suicide during the winter where they had given us light, long sleeved shirts, which were long enough on me to cover the bandages.   ”Stop trying to waste your life. All of this will be worth it. Because of who you belong to……it will all be worth it. Trust me.”  She knew who my sacrifice was. They all did, for all of us. But they never told us because then the different stages as to where the sacrifices were in the family would also affect the fighters. So the fighter of the head would feel superior to the fighter of a third tear sacrifice. Mainly because they would be. But to prevent that from happening, we had no idea who our sacrifices were. I tried to get the girl to tell me, but she wouldn’t. Only wrapped my wrists and saw me back to my pad with a warning to not let the elders find out that I had tried such a stupid thing. I don’t know how she did it, but the bathroom was perfectly spotless and odorless the next morning.   The second year came and went, and the third year started. But it was strange. Suddenly my training, not the training of any other fighters. Just my training……..well, it didn’t stop, because I was still in school, but it seemed to revolve around pointless shit. Like before there was a direction with my training, I had goals I had to meet, and everyone knows what happened when I didn’t meet them. But now……it seemed almost as if those goals were tossed out the nonexistent windows and they were giving me busy work.. It was really fucking annoying. Especially when that busy work is philosophy. Gods……for a whole entire year, they shoved that crap down my throat. And I couldn’t help but wonder how philosophy would ever help me at all, when training was finished. How and when would I ever use the philosophical elements that are created within the bond of a fighter and a sacrifice?  Come on. Really? When am I ever going to use that? It’s like having to take advanced calculus to get a degree in acting. How is that ever going to be useful? I actually asked them that once. Of course, I was thrashed for speaking out of turn, and questioning what my trainers were giving me.   But I digress. It was also this year, when I was eleven that I not only got to leave the first building to head over to the second. When one is only exposed to one color, others can blind you. And they did. My eyes had adjusted only to the white, and the sudden brightness of the blues, greens, browns, reds, oranges, and yellows literally blinded me. It was too much at once, and it only served to give me a migraine. By the time I reached the other building, I was thankful for the plain white walls, and I hated myself for it.   It was here that I also met Junoa Umizo. A seven year old sacrifice who was as harsh as the elders it seemed. I guess I was part of her training too, seeing as her job was seeing if she could properly control me. At age seven……do you know how humiliating it is, fighters, to be ordered around by a kid that is almost half your age? Most of you probably don’t, but that’s not the case. This little snot nose brat just shows up, head held high as if she owned the fucking world. Looks at me with this cool gaze as if I'm unfit for her. Just………GAH its annoying.   ”Don’t look down. Stare straight ahead." Anyway, I digress. So Junoa and I were matched in battle with another fighter. It was also to teach me the whole ‘obey the sacrifice during battle’ thing. Which is pretty straight forward if you ask me. You defend the sacrifice you are bound to. Like I said….simple. But the point of this entire spell battle thing was to teach me that speaking spells was not the only way to cast them. And that’s all I'm really allowed to say on the entire matter. Y’know. The whole family secret of what exactly they trained their fighters. Not that I care, but it would piss off my sacrifice, and she’s not one you want to get on the bad side of.   But anyway, so for most of my third year it was pointless schooling in philosophy, and training with the bitc- I mean, Junoa. Same thing day in and day out. Same as it had been for the last three years. And I swear to the gods in both heaven and hell that if ANYONE talks to me about philosophy, then I will show you exactly what I can do with a spork. Then I turned twelve and my training seemed to finally pick back up again. No mention of what had happened to stall it in the first place, but then again they really didn’t tell me much anyway besides the orders they gave me.   But slowly, the wear of the expectations along with the living conditions as well as the training began to wear on me again. I would have bouts of depression, and often think of what I did to give the fates the idea that I deserved this. My mind always went back to the words that the girl whispered to me. And I'm sorry, but how in the seven fucking hells, is this shit worth it? How does anything make the torture, the whole being pushed well beyond our limits ever make it ok? And I thought about her warning, about not letting the elders find out. They hadn’t. Or at least, if they had seen the scars, they hadn’t mentioned anything about them. So at the time, I thought that the girl was just trying to scare me into submission. Just like everyone else here. And one night, I decided to prove her wrong. Because there was nothing that these elder fighters could do that they or someone else *coughSeikicough* has done to me already. I figured that there was nothing I could lose, unless they killed me. And I was about to do that for them. So during the winter of my eleventh year, I ran to the bathroom, stood before the mirror in the exact same place as I did before, and I took the knife that I had stolen, and dragged it from my wrist all the way down my arm until I stopped about an inch away from my elbow. And this time, I knew I had done it right, because I instantly felt colder than I ever have in my life. To speed up the process, I cut my other arm in the same fashion, even though it was slightly more sloppy from both the cut and the fact that I wasn’t using my dominate hand. And I stood there with a smile on my face until my legs lost their strength and I fell to lie in my own blood. Even when the elders found me, I laughed, because what could they do really?  “How dare you attempt to take something that is not even yours to take.”  But I was wrong. I was so very wrong. I was sentenced to thrashing, and I laughed at the time, because I had long since gotten used to the fire that came from the cow hide whip they used. But when they chained me up to the pole once more, bound my hands and feet so I couldn’t move, I knew something was different. And it wasn’t until the first crack of the whip sounded that I realized that there was something that they could do. Because the fire that exploded across my back was so much more painful than anything I had ever experienced before. And it was when I heard it dragging along the stones that I heard it.   Metal……  The scrapping of the small metal cleavers that they had attached to the end of the cows hide. I couldn’t hold back my screams as the knives cut into my back again and again, digging in and taking bits of flesh with them whenever they were retracted.5 lashings is what I was sentenced too, and I was sentenced to five more every time I uttered a sound. By the time they were finished I had 25 received lashings. I had bitten my lip so hard that it had bleed, my teeth nearly going through it completely. And I was only given two days to recover before I was forced to train once more, and expected to keep up with the other fighters.   And here I had laughed at the sacrifices face and asked him if that was all he could do to me. How foolish I had been. I can still feel the burn of them……still feel the eyes of the sacrifice that had sentenced me on my back. Feel his smug smile as he broke yet another fighter. Because I never fought after that. After that night, when they had dumped me back into the medical ward of the building, and the nurse wrapped my back none too gently, I made a vow that I would survive. I would live long enough to get out of this hell hole, to see the person they set me with, and to one day, hopefully, buy my freedom from these monsters.   The last year was all about finishing the spell training and learning to be ‘seen and not heard’. I was also trained not to be ‘seen’ at all. To completely mask my presence so that no one, no fighter, no sacrifice, no human could tell I was there. I was basically trained to be the perfect servant. At the time I wondered what kind of family needed such a deadly servant if my sacrifice was simply going to either inherit nothing (if it was a boy) or get married off (if it was a girl). Though, deep down I prayed every night and day, pleading with the gods that my sacrifice was a girl. I don’t know if I could handle it if he was a boy.   So my training continued until one day, when all of a sudden I was taken from the secondary building to the main building once again. It was just a few months after I had turned thirteen, and in the dead of winter. I remember feeling instantly better because the air in the building was warm. The fucking trainers had heat. What kind of bullshit is that? It explained why they all left so quickly after the training was finished. I remember thinking it was actually too hot, but my body adjusted after a while. But I had almost foreseen this coming. Seeing I was the only girl in the entire group of trainees whose hair was longer that her chin. My hair fell in soft waves to my shoulders, and I had thought it weird that when they called for haircuts, I was kept from going in.   But anyway, I digress……again. Yes I know I really need to stop that. But anyway, so they bring me to the same room in which I had been prepared over four years ago. I was given a bath in scented oils, and had my hair washed until it gleamed in even the lowest light. They also powdered my face, and applied make up. That was when I knew……  I was going to see the head of the family.  Panic shot through me, but with long years of training, my face remained emotionless. I haven’t acted out, and my studies and training were perfect. There was no reason that I could think of where I would need to see the head or maybe the elders of the family. But not a word was spoken as they put up my now clean hair, and put me in the finest thing I have ever worn. The wedding dress all the way back there for Seiki and Matsu’s wedding? Yeah, that would be like a potato sack compared to the kimono they dressed me in. I found out later, that it was tradition with in the Umizo family that all the children were taught the craft of making kimono’s by hand, and that this was the first complete kimono my sacrifice made.  The Kimono was dark purple, shifting to a more plumb color toward the bottom. The flowers were pink and white and the material that went around my torso was ivory. It was made of the finest silk I had ever seen and felt. Even after everything all the yards of fabric that I was wearing, I felt like I was wearing nothing at all. It was all so light, so soft that it felt more like a warm cloud. It was so fine that I was afraid to wear it out of the room that we were in. But I was escorted to the main house towards the front part of the property. Towards the house where all the elders, the Umizo family members [since they were all sacrifices for the most part], as well as the head resided.   The closer we got, the more nervous and panicked I became. But I refused to get lashings for acting out here, because doing even the smallest thing before the head……I didn’t even want to think of what that punishment would be. So I made sure that everything was perfect. My expression, my posture, my gaze that was to never look anyone, not even the other fighters, in the eye. Every ounce of my training in etiquette and manners was being tested, and I was too scared to think about what would happen if I failed.   ”Forgive our intrusion.”  They had been talking about something before the woman opened the door. Business from what I could hear before they all stopped to watch us as we filed in. They were all there, the four elders, the head of the family, and a woman in her older teens standing by the head. I felt my blood freeze as all twelve sets of eyes were on me. But there was only one set I noticed. One set of steel grey eyes that made me freeze in my tracks.   Now let me pause for a little side note for the fighters reading this. You know how people always say that meeting your sacrifice for the first time is that euphoric moment where the sunbeams come down, doves fly out, and there’s the hallelujah chorus being sung in the background? Yeah………Let me tell you how our first meeting went.   As soon as those steel grey eyes met mine I instantly knew who my sacrifice was. That feeling of euphoria ended the second her eyes met mine. Because those eyes held more fury, more rage than Seiki’s ever could. And it was a good thing that those who were escorting me had stopped. Because as soon as those eyes met mine, I couldn’t move. The instinctual fear of being hurt by the rage burning in those steel depths had glued me to the floor and frozen me in place. It wasn’t until the fighter next to me pushed on my back to make me bow that I realized that I had failed. I less than thirty seconds into the test, I had two major strikes on my record: I had not only gazed my sacrifice in her eyes, but I also didn’t immediately bow and show the elders, the head, nor my sacrifice any sort of respect. The fighter pulled on the back of the kimono to straighten me back up, and I made sure my gaze never left the floor.   ”What do you think?”  That was the head....It didn’t matter that I couldn’t see him. I saw him in my peripheral vision. That was enough for me. And my sacrifice glanced at me once her steel eyes going down once before these words left her lips in a distant, emotionless voice.   ”I do not want her. Send her back to where she came from.”  For a very long moment that seemed to last forever, there was nothing but silence. And I remember being filled with rage, and it was only because of the powder, and the fear of being more punished than I already was from breaking my own silence just then. I couldn’t believe it. I was forced through four years of hell, four years of being pushed past my limit, beaten almost to death, and libraries worth of knowledge slammed into my head under fear of punishment only for the person that Fate had destined me to be with, to say that she didn’t want me. After only one. Glance. But the meeting didn’t end there. Oh no, it got much worse. “We can break her and train her in the proper etiquette of-“  ”I. Do. Not. Want. Her…………SEND. HER. BACK!!”  Not once, but twice…….Twice I was rejected by the person what Fate had destined me for. The elder was not even allowed to finish his sentence. The silence was deafening as the frustration, hurt and fury continued to build within me, and it was all I could do to keep my mouth shut and face clear. The head waved his hand, and the fighters escorted back out of the room, shutting the door silently behind us. I heard them talking, but I could no longer understand the words. I could hear the elders and the head’s calm voice, and my sacrifice’s angry voice stating again and again that she didn’t want me. Those were the only words I could understand, no matter how far from the room we were.   And trust me fighters. Nothing hurts more than this. Nothing more than the one Fate has tied you to, you’re other half, the one who is supposed to be there and support you, no matter how cruel that way may be, that person was burning the small thread that is now alive and kicking, and the only thing tying you to them, to little pieces only to become ash and be blown to the four corners of the earth by the wind.   I was led back towards the fighter’s main house, but I was not directed to the place where I had been when I awoke this morning. No, I was taken to another room, no windows, only one door, and told to ‘stay here’ before the door was shut and locked.   At the time, I might have been silent outwardly, but inwardly I was screaming. How dare she! A fucking snot nose brat who sees some random imperfection in me (it was probably the fact that I looked directly in her eyes and didn’t bow, but I don’t think that was it. She was pissed the moment I walked into the room) and gets to stomp her foot, and throw a temper tantrum like a fucking CHILD and decide that just because I’m not EXACTLY what she wants, she can toss me back into purgatory like the trash that she believes me to be. Like the last four fucking years of goddamn HELL meant absolutely NOTHING. I was half tempted to break out of the room (because I knew I could) run back to that room, and strangle that perfect little slender neck until those steel eyes glazed over with the film of death. I wanted it so badly. The need was so painful, clenching and twisting within my chest, and nothing I did could have kept the tears of anger, fury, and (even though I would never admit it to ANYONE) hurt from streaming down my face. I wanted to scream, I wanted to break something, preferably that perfect little fucking doll of a face that she probably prized more than anything. But more then that, I wanted, needed the everlasting hell to end…or for some way that would allow me to escape from this spiraling decent into the darkest pit of hell. Before it was too late and I broke on my own. Because there was only so much I could take before my mind broke on it’s own. If the elders took too long, or did anything else to me, no matter what it was, there would be nothing left for them to break.   I don’t know when the tears stopped, nor when my inward screams of fury and anguish ceased to echo off the walls of my mind. Nor do I know how long I was in the room before they came to get me. They handed me a small suitcase filled with clothes and told me to change and be ready in ten minutes. It took 5 just to get the kimono off without ripping it. Inside the suitcase was everything I needed; shirts, pants, underwear, socks bras and even a pair of shoes. So I picked the first thing I grabbed, and then was escorted out of the building into the front passenger seat of a huge black limousine. We drove off, and for the first time in four years, I was leaving the main house.   I quickly learned that my sacrifice’s name was Ayane. Umizo Ayane. And I also learned that she has mastered the technique of being in more than one place at the same time. For the next year and a half, I played catch up with her, and always failing. For I was her new assistant / body guard. And I swear this girl was EVERYWHERE!! By the time I woke up in the morning, she was gone, and I would spend the rest of the day playing catch up, and NO ONE would help me get ahead. Finally, after 18 months of constantly trailing her shadow, I was pulled aside by the elders.   ”If you cannot perform what is expected of you by our heir, than we will comply with her demand. We will break you completely, and send you back to wherever it is you came from.”   Well, that very night I hacked into Ayane secretary’s cell phone (really wasn’t that hard) and wrote down her entire schedule for the next three months (because that was as far as the woman’s calendar went). The next morning, I was standing in Ayane’s room the moment she awoke, her schedule for the day planned out, the clothes she would wear that day laid out and ready for her, down to her stockings and small little boots, even the accessories were sitting nearly on the dresser, and a steaming hot breakfast in hand.   ”Good morning, Umizo-sama. Here is your breakfast and morning tea. I have your clothes airing out on the chair for when you are finished, and your bath has been drawn. Please eat at your leisure, but remember that we must be on our way by 04:30 this morning.”  The look on her face was priceless, I was trying so hard not to laugh my ass off. Of course in true Ayane fashion, she made that day a living hell. But since I know knew where she would be, and when she was going to be there so her trying to lose me and leave me behind was a nearly impossible feat.   But one day, right after I turned fifteen, she made the impossible, possible. She never came home from a family function that I had not been allowed to attend. I called everyone….her secretary, her director, every single one of her agents, and it wasn’t until I stumbled across the only photographer that she would allow to take her modeling pictures, that I was given the address to a private condo in the center of town, right across the street from the Umizo corporate building.   Honestly, part of me was terrified. Not only because of the elder’s threat that still hung over my head, but because Ayane was my sacrifice. And even if she was a cold, heartless bitch, that thread was still worth protecting. Or at least, I thought, until she was brave enough to sever it completely. I found the condo easily and was greeted with the unlocked door. It was ironic, to see that the condo was much like the fighter buildings. White walls, no doors save the front door and the French doors that led out to the biggest hanging harden I have ever seen. But what alarmed me most was not the silence, nor the unlocked door. No……it was the heavy scent of blood that hung in the air.   They say what goes around comes around. And the last thing I ever expected to was ‘Ms. Perfect’ with her perfect life and perfect family, in a pool of her own blood, with matching horizontal slashes on her wrists. Part of me wanted to laugh at the irony, and silently asked if I looked that pathetic over five years ago. I also wondered what in the world made Ayane come to this point? What in her perfect life made Ms. Spoiled brat, prim and proper Princess want to kill herself? But then I realized that maybe her life had been like mine. Perfect on the outside, but inside you were screaming, pleading for someone, anyone to hear you. Maybe it’s in this pampered lifestyle that you learn true Isolation. Oh wait……that’s our name.  But I digress. I took her to the hospital that the Jenoiu family owned, because I knew that they could hide….certain facts from public. So I submitted her into the hospital under Yumi Saito’s name, claiming that her injuries were from a spell battle. They took her, fixed her up, and I waited in that room, until she woke up again. After a few hours, her heart sped up, and I knew instantly that she was awake.   ”Hit me, Break me, I don’t give a fuck. But I am NOT being broken and cast back to that fucking hell hole because Ms. Perfect doesn’t want to put in the goddamn effort to train me into the fighter she fucking wants! Oh, and if you really want to kill yourself, you have to go down, not across.”  ”……….Shut up, Ms. Smart Ass."  After that, we came to an understanding, more or less. She stopped making my life a total hell, and I didn’t act like the perfect fighter around her. Because I mean, come on…..we both hated it. I only did so when it was absolutely necessary. Family functions, public functions, etc. But the moment we were alone, and away from people, the masks dropped the instant we were alone. And yes, I do curse out my sacrifice. And the cool thing about it is, she doesn’t give a shit. Which is awesome by the way but don’t you dare tell her that.   And about the time we were eighteen (because I found out that we were in fact the same age) her father had a stroke, and became a vegetable. Ayane stood there, in the hospital room, not a single tear fell. She signed the papers, and pulled the chord……………actually I think she pulled the chord before she signed the papers. But I really can’t blame her. Had I been in the same situation, I would have done the same thing. But I tell you what. I have never seen such a fake display of fake tears as I did when the previous head of the family was lowered into the ground. Ayane was balling her sweet little steels out. But as soon as her father was in the ground, they instantly stopped. Ironic now that the main house only two doors in the entire place. Yup, you guessed it. The front and back doors leading to the outside. Upon her ‘take over’ of the family head position, Ayane stripped the main house of the ‘privilege’ privacy by doors. She hated secrets, she hated doors, and she damn well made the rest of the family understand that little Ms. Perfect, was going to make about all of their lives hell.   Serves those damn sacrifice bastards right.  Anyways, it’s kind of funny how Life comes in a full circle. It was sometime after the funeral, when Ayane and I were visiting the main house that I was handed a very interesting request. I was asked to train the younger fighters. I wore one of the black uniforms that I used to hate with an undying passion, and train the youngsters.   And if you think that I was one of the younger fighters who was sympathetic to the younger ones because I knew their pain, and what they were going through………….*bursts out laughing* you’re funny. Because if those four years of hell taught me anything, it was what that young fighter whispered into my ear was true. The humility that the trainers taught you was worth more than anything I could have ever learned. That whatever doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger.   A year later, Ayane stopped her singing/acting/modeling careers. She announced to the world that Mizo, Yanna was really Umizo Ayane, and that with the passing of her father’s death, she could no longer run the entire company and uphold her careers. At least she knew when to stop. I mean because Ayane is good, but she’s not that good.  And we have finally reached the present day. I am still Ayane’s ever present assistant, and I just managed to finish my first year of college and am about to start my second. And before you ask, yes Ayane had her bachelor’s before I even left high school. Kinda funny because I now have a job that pays more than even Seiki’s ‘perfect’ job did.   Oh, and I'm sure you’re wondering if I was ever able to buy back my freedom. I did ask Ayane that once. She merely held out her hand and requested four million dollars (not yen, original United states of America dollars). I about died right there. I explained to her that I was sold for only forty one thousand yen, and she laughed.   ”Your father got shafted, Aiko. Or did you forget whose fighter you are?”  After hearing that I burst out laughing. I laughed until my sides hurt and tears fell out of my eyes. My father thought that he was getting the most he could out of me. But he foolishly didn’t ask who my sacrifice was. If he had, he would have been set for life. And wouldn’t have had to marry Matsu. Kind of Ironic, don’t you think?  But hey. I'm now officially worth more than the couch.   (Note: 41,000 Yen = $344.68) Additional Information: Parents/Elders/Guardians:   Yumi Saito (mother, deceased),   Seiki Jenoiu (father)  Matsu Jenoiu (step mother)  Career: Works as Ayane’s personal assistant.  Hobbies: Singing, Making her own personal jewelry from the parts the Umizo throws away. Working with anything technological, but mainly computers.   Likes: Sweets, Full moons, feeling the wind against her face.  Loves: Sitting in Ayane’s garden. Heavy rain storms, watching lightening listening to music.   Dislikes: Stuck up people, being forced to act meek and submissive, Ayane’s Lectures, people looking at the scars on her back, being touched by the opposite sex in any other area then the hands and around the small part of her back, closed spaces with no air circulation.   Loathes: Her father, The Umizo Elders, Being pitied.   Hates (with an unhealthy Obsession): The color white.  Fears: “Riiiight, like I’m going to tell you so that you can use my weaknesses against me… HA! Yeah right. Nice try.”  Strengths: Her loyalty to those whom she wishes to protect. Also her attention to detail, making sure that things are done exactly to their specifications. She is also a very fast learner, usually only needing to see something once before being able to do it on her own.  Bad habits: Cursing, Biting her nails, and shaking her right leg whenever she is sitting down for longer than a minute, being easily distracted.   Turn ons & Turn offs: “And I would tell you these because…………….?”