OOC Note: This was a Tier3 (ADVANCED) character submission. Required information such as the OOC Summary at the end have been redacted.
Sparrow (Miyazaki Kaiyo)
Calloused hands cling to her hips as soft masculine grunts are dampened and swallowed by the plastifoam walls. She bends her head forward, her long hair swaying as a curtain in front of her face, for which she is thankful. Her inner thighs meet with bony hips and she clenches her jaw, her eyes screwed tight, trying to feign moans of pleasure despite the fact that she is desperately praying for it to finally be over.
Laughter rang in her ears, a ghostly echo long after it had faded. A beautiful face, her mother's face, knelt down to look into hers with an unending kindness.
"Kaiyo-chan, don't you want to show your father the flower you found?" Her mother asked her, brushing a strand of hair out from in front of her daughters eyes. The little girl stared down at her feet bashfully before raising the flower into the hard, lined face of her father. He smiled down at her, nodding his head encouragingly, but even then she could sense how anxious he was.
The Yakuza were present, her entire life, despite the fact that she was too young to even understand. Kaiyo often wondered if her life was being bargained for on that exact day, when her father had smiled down at his precious daughter's flower.
She'd had so many johns before, the faces seemed to blend together. Politicians, businessmen, corporate kings in their castles - Kaiyo knew they put their pants on one leg at a time, just like anyone else. Besides her grafted, enhanced beauty, that was one of the few things she had going for her - she knew the secrets about the most important men in Tokyo than even their equals did. Which is also exactly why they decided she was too risky to have around - her skill with the manipulation of both sexes was too dangerous. There was no telling what she did or did not know, what secrets of the underground she kept behind her pretty face.
No, not laughter now - tears. Sobs that stretch beyond the decades. Kaiyo's mother, crouched over something on the floor, a lifeless shape that used to be Kaiyo's father, giving almost animalistic cries of desperation and pain.
"Mama..." She said softly, reaching out a hand from the doorway, ignorant to the situation. Her mother turned around, her eyes blotched in the dim light. She jerked at the sight of her daughter and swooped on top of her, cradling her in her arms.
"Oh, Kaiyo, Kaiyo..." The woman said her child's name over and over like a mantra, like a prayer. If only there had been someone to listen.
Kaiyo buried her face in her mothers breasts, and a doorknob turned. The creaking of hinges echoed through the small room, almost drowned out by the constant hum of the hovertraffic out on the street. The only illumination was from the neon outside, shimmering in through the window. Kaiyo turned her head just enough to peek at the door, stared just long enough to take in the tall forms of three men, before she turned her face away again, small fists grabbing at her mother's clothing.
Footsteps approached - calm, unhurried footsteps. A voice spoke Japanese for a few moments, too quick for Kaiyo to understand - "debts must be paid, time has run out". Her mother gave a broken sob, shaking her head and wrapping her arms around Kaiyo.
"Did you kill him?" Her mother asked softly, a desperation in her voice that made the hairs on the back of Kaiyo's neck stand even at her young age.
"Of course not." The first man said in a clipped tone. Kaiyo knew, too, that he was lying.
A few silent moments passed, broken only by her mothers whimpers. Kaiyo refused to peek a second time, but after a strange, metallic click sounded, she lifted her head again. The second man had come closer and was pointing a strange, cylindrical object at the both of them. Kaiyo looked to her mother for guidance, and found none.
Confusion swelled under her as a third man stepped forward and pulled Kaiyo from her mothers arms. Kaiyo began to cry, reaching out for her mother, but a sharp prick on her upper arm was the last thing she could remember.
She doesn't let him stay after he's finished fucking her. He protests that he'd paid for the coffin, he had a right, but she simply stares at him and he falls silent and pushes his way out. She never lets the johns stay longer than they have to. Sex, cum, cred, gone. It's a simple process. There are days when she wishes she would finally get used to the alarming feeling of a strange mans hands over her breasts and cunt, but she never does. It's a feeling she never stops hating.
But business is business. This was what she is, this was what she does. She has no other choice. They hadn't given her a choice.
When she was fourteen, she became a woman. This did not alarm her whatsoever, as she'd been living for the past ten years in a monastery with other women who had more than prepared her for the day. She was neither excited or dismayed by the event - it was simply another annoyance to interrupt her studies. She was planning on beginning her 2-year sikkhamana training period, and was looking forward to becoming a Buddhist nun by the time she was 20, the youngest in her monastery. She had her whole life planned out. The day after she became a woman, all of her belongings were removed from the monastery. By late afternoon, she found herself kneeling before a strange, rumbling voice that told her to forget about the monastery, about the Buddhist teachings.
"It was a distraction," The voice went on, uninterrupted by Kaiyo. "Something to keep you occupied that didn't teach you how to defend yourself. That is a job better left to us."
Questions burned in her, but she remained silent. She had learned very quickly that both children and women must only speak when being addressed.
"Yes, let's see..." The voice drifted off for a moment. "Miyazaki Kaiyo. Ah...you are Miyazaki Satoshi's little girl, aren't you?" Silence again. The voice commanded her to raise her eyes, and she obeyed. She studied the man before her, a small, insipid man who nonetheless carried himself as if he owned the world and all its inhabitants. Puckered pink flesh crossed his face in a scar that looked fairly recent. She stared for as long as she could before she had to drop her gaze in apprehension. The man laughed, a drawling, booming noise that made her jump.
"Do not be alarmed, little suzumi," He said, in a startlingly kind voice. It was a word she recognized only vaguely, and he laughed again when she asked what it meant. "It means 'sparrow'." He explained, holding up his hand to silence her.
He walked closer to her, and she shrank back. "Miyazaki Kaiyo, this could be the best day of your life, or it could be the worst. Due to debts owed to the Yakuza by your father, Miyazaki Satoshi, you and everything you are and will be now belongs to the Yakuza as stated in a contractual agreement with Satoshi-sama himself on July 24, 2020. The agreement reads as follows..."
She had been three years old, that year, the year her father had traded his debts for his daughter.
Out of the coffin with her clothes back on, she wanders the streets. It is raining, sheets of acidic cold blowing in her pale face. She raises her eyes to the smog, remembering those days on L4 with her parents. Thinking of her parents causes her no great pain, only a feeling of pressing emptiness. She often finds herself wondering how things would have been if her life had taken a different path.
This is the path I have been given, she tells herself over and over. This is the hand that fate has dealt me; there is no point in questioning it.
No point at all.