Chapter One


The black elbow-length haired girl sighed as she looked around the class room, also known as Class 3D. She leaned back in her chair, the reddish pink sailor schoolgirl uniform hugging her proportionate and toned body comfortably.

The teacher was running late for the first time in a long time and everyone was talking to each other in specific groups of friends. She sighed and looked at the large crowd around her, both sexes, and looked down, but not sad looking. Her eyes didn't read the text of Shakespeare's 'The Tempest' in front of her, but she just looked at it.

Prospero was just speaking to Ariel, the apparition that appeared to be a nymph, but she didn't bother to remember anything else on that, even though it was right in front of her.

Usually, she loved Shakespeare… Especially 'The Tempest'… But…

'But…?'

'But…'

She crossed her arms on the table and buried her head in the crook of her elbow, drifting off.


Flashback - Dream Style


"That's wrong!!" A male of around seventy years of age snapped, wrinkled face creasing up even more so at the person down below from him. "Do it again! And properly this time! Give him what for! Yeah!"

The girl gritted her teeth together, keeping her short but easily flammable temper on a leash. Her grandfather was the one who coached her. She owed him… somewhat.

She dodged the fist flying at her easily from her opponent, eyes of clashing tiger like orange poison narrowing dangerously at him. He aimed another full frontal punch and she dodged again with an annoyed growl, grumbling through her chest. 'Didn't this idiot get she was too fast to have him go straight for her?'

Ugh.

Another punch, and the blades between each finger, like tiger claws, entered into his wrist and quickly swivelled up, a spray of juicy, metallic liquid squirted out, spraying her soft heart like face.

He screamed and she rubbed her right bruised cheek, absently going over the three dull pink scar marks, looking like whiskers. She looked like a preying tiger on for the kill, loving the hunt and playing with her opponent.

'Do it.'

The small and slight girl sighed silently, looking at him pityingly, knowing what she'd have to do.

He was just some large male, slow and heavy, and she simply slipped around him, aiming a high knee kick for the back of his neck, when he furiously went for another punch with his good hand. Dodging, the hit of the steel elbow pad to his hefty neck connected, and the brown haired overly muscular male slumped to the ground, a sickening crack being heard... but not from the neck being broken.

The crowd above cheered and screamed, the yells vibrating and echoing and she winced at the automatically huge sounds, her arms hanging limply at her side.

'Ignore it.'

The crack signified he was dead, but… No, it was definitely not the neck that killed him.

She looked around the cold room. It was white tiled, but smeared with red, life giving, and still-warm blood, as if it were a canvas and the liquid the paint. There was barbed wire surrounding the walls too, as she could see the odd rip of skin or eye hanging from there. The floors were the same, cold, heartless, merciless. Weapons strung across it, sharp, deadly, evil and very much so used.

She gulped; dread filling her like freezing water tipped sinfully slowly down her back, giving her the shivers. She hated this place. Hated it with intense loathing.

The hollow rooms filled with echoed seemed to remind her of herself. Only hollow and full of loud noises of anger, violence… loneliness. It was that nothing was there to fill the void.

And she liked it like that. You couldn't hurt what wasn't there, could you?

'What if something was there?'

She looked emptily at the spear through her opponents head and turned away, disgusted with herself, feeling the knotting of her stomach as her vomit tried to crawl back up to her mouth and out again but she just about swallowed it down. The acidic taste of puke was in her mouth as well as blood and spit, and she spat it on the ground.

Unhurriedly, she wiped her mouth with the back of her huge sleeves, not even wincing when she brushed her bruised face accidentaly.

Spear's stuck up form the ground, the arena being a death trap while spectators looked on, quite like the Coliseum in Rome. Everything was white and black around her, but her clothes were different colours.

She wore an over sized jumper that was at least five sizes too big for her, and it was bright orange red with three orange strips around the chest area, suiting her eyes a little.

It looked like she only had that jumper on. It fell down to her knees, covering the tight black shorts that she also wore with twin striped of white down the sides. On her feet were badly tied up boots that had gleaming metal of silver, rusted blood on it and they came up to mid lower leg, laces scraping the floor each time she moved a foot towards the steps to go up and out.

On the boots were immense amounts of weights, the same around her chest, - which was bound by bandages so she wouldn't bounce – upper arms and upper legs, wrists and waist. She wore a spaghetti strap top of black under it with matching black wristband of leather that hid the weights superbly. On her elbows and knees were also metal plated pad to help on defense and offence at the same time.

On her hip was a bag and she quickly put in the six blades between her callous scarred hands, waiting for the specially made gloves that made sure she didn't dig the skin off of her hand like it was doing to her bare hands blemished from battles.

The gloves would have spaces between the fingers that would have small metal slits that the blades of six inches fitted into smoothly. They'd end a little over her knuckles and halfway up to her elbows, baggy around the arms and knuckles. She had designed them herself.

She put a hand to her left hip, where the new tattoo she required was situated. It was a simple crescent moon in silver ink outlined in moon glow blue with a half diamond shaped emerald actually inserted into her between the two points. The emerald was cut down the middle vertically, the left half there while the right was lodged into one of the weights – the right wrist. The one she got before was one she had to get.

It was the oldest one and was wrapped around her right thigh if you looked from behind. A tribal tiger rested its head on her right hip, eye also a fully diamond shaped emerald, and it's body was completely black, clawing around her thigh three times, and then down to the inside of her middle thigh.

Her grandfather gave a smug smirk down at her when she reached the top of it. His little warrior was scruffy, short, and slightly greasy with sweaty chin length hair of black with bright orange highlights spiked down and outwards naturally but now it was falling in front of her face, hiding the natural cuteness. Her clothes were creased and smudged red with blood, but you couldn't really tell.

His white hair ruffled in the wind as he pocketed the money he got whilst walking out the illegal underground stadium, she following him reluctantly and then nodded when he gave her a quarter of the money, a large pile of crisp green notes.

Grandfather Vincent kept on smirking as he walked to the luxury silver Mercedes and opened the door with the key. He was dressed in a snappy black suit with white pinstripes and smoking on a cigar. Taking out a bag, he chucked it at her, and then he threw a wet towel and dry towel at her, giving a disgusted look at her.

"Next time, Sin," His low and growling voice gritted out, making her close her eyes as she clenched the two towels with her fists. "You won't get blood on your face. I expect you at the dojo for at least six hours after school, training in your gymnastics, blades and hand to hand in Muay Thai. Two hours for each, you hear, Sin? Then after, go to Miss Kaye and learn more for three hours."

A nod was his answer as she rubbed the damp towel over her face and hair, revelling in the fresh tropical scent. She dropped the wet one on her feet and used the dry one, dropping it also. Vincent wouldn't want them back, not when they'd touched her. She was just a tool, just a science experiment gone wrong.

"Eat this."

Richochet slowly took the proffered food and closed her eyes.

Flesh.

Off a human.

He was making her into a monster.

She quickly devoured it and gagged, but kept it down.

"Get moving to school, Sin."

The ten year old secured the bag over one shoulder, bowed and walked away without a word, imagining torturing the sick arsehole in her mind, vividly.


End Flashback - Dream Style


Richochet, the small thirteen going on fourteen year old, snapped awake, sweating a little and realized that her dream had only gone on for the brief period of time of twenty five minutes and it seemed that the had only teacher just arrived. She wondered briefly if Mayuko-sensei was doing well before staring out the window, ignoring that thought. It was no business of hers.

Taking her arms away from the table, the Shakespearian book she was reading closed itself because of being too heavy on one side with a small 'fwik' like sound, yet paid no mind to it.

That dream had recurred several times in her unusually misshapen sleep plan as of late and it was getting to her.

Shaking her head, her eyes drifted half way closed, laziness setting in as she longingly eyed the bare trees outside. The cold month of December had crept up all too soon for the female, who enjoyed sitting out in an estranged field surrounded by flowers of many kinds. That was when she was at most peace with herself and her cumbersome thoughts.

She was really bad with the cold also, hating being outside at this time of year where she could easily get hypothermia or pneumonia or whatever else you can get by freezing halfway to death. She easily got ill for reasons unknown.

Maybe she just didn't have as good as an immune system as everyone else?

Hmm.

Richochet thought back to her dream and of how some things had changed, like for instance her hair. There were no more highlighted orange streaks that her Grandfather had made her wear to show her off in the 'arena', and she had grown her hair out for one reason only.

It was to prove that she didn't fight to kill any more.

If it was short, it would signify to her that she had slipped back into her past, that she had tainted herself further, that she had made herself an untamed, ravaging beast once more.

It wasn't self pity – it was fact.

She grimaced at the last, most vivid part of her dream. The flesh. She was a cannibal and it was normal for her to eat human flesh – if there was nothing else that is. It didn't taste of anything really, bland kind of.

A sigh wracked her body and she closed her eyes, lifeless. Usually, she was pretty upbeat and sensitive to the environment around her, paranoid that she was about to be attack everytime she went around a corner, hand straying at her hip for her blades and gloves.

The bell rang abruptly, snapping her out of her mental madness.

She grabbed her bag, filled with the necessary stationary folder and paper, some snack bars, fruit in a small container and a dictionary of psychological terms that she stole once. Apparently, she had a small case of kleptomania – which was basically stealing things impulsively, even when you don't need it.

Great, huh?

She was a stealing maniac.

It's what eeeeveryone likes to be known as by their own inside psychologist.

Aww, who cared?

Consciences sucked anyway.

She was good at stealing too, hands quick.

Looking down at her black book bag, she frowned and plucked out a letter that looked very familiar...

Richochet narrowed her eyes in displeasure. "Whoopee-freaking-do another meeting with my psychologist Grandfather set me up with." Her light voice moved into the class sardonically. She shook her head in admonishment. "Why bother…?"

She flipped the bag onto her back and grabbed the Shakespearian book in front of her, holding it under her right arm and slowly walked out of the classroom, ignoring the 'Goodbye, dearie,' that the teacher gave her warmly and patted her way down the corridor.

School girls giggled loudly, chatting about what they were doing this weekend – or at least the pair she walked past did – and some boys were talking about the latest sports results. It was loud to her sensitive ears, pounding her head, giving her a head ache, but she kept calm through it, trying to seem uncaring.

She finally reached her locker and grabbed the bag filled with clothes and weights – the exact same from her memory in her sleep apart from the bright orange which was now dark blood red, almost black. Grudgingly going back through the throng of loud, obnoxious students, she reached the bathroom, found a stall and quickly changed.


Exiting with bag and book bag in hand, she felt far better in her training uniform, no matter what memories it brought along. Turning left and walking down the black carpeted stairs, she quickly headed for the double doors signaling the entrance. Stopping, she stashed her bag once again in the locker and closed it, locking it tight.

"Richocheeeeet!!" A gullible and irritating voice called to her.

Richochet felt her lower lip curl in distaste and turned to face the happy-go-lucky Chikoto Mizu.

Mizu was, in terms of looking, down right beautiful, and in terms of brains, smarter than the average person, and in terms of personality, the most annoyingly caring person ever that everyone just seemed to fall down and fall in love with – but that may just be the cynical side of Richochet talking.

She had extremely long dark blue black hair that fell to below her knees and was done in an intricate braid; shining everytime the light hit the silky gorgeous hair. Her green eyes were as bold as the neon sign on the club opposite the school. Her complexion was fair and unblemished, the most perfect skin the all the fucking history in the world.

The girl could do anything – sing perfectly, dance brilliantly, draw extraordinarily well. Everything Richochet couldn't do, Mizu did with absolute spot on grace. Hell, everything Richochet could do, Mizu was probably better.

She even had a sob story going on.

Her rich billionaire daddy threw her out because he hated her and her mother was dead.

WRONG.

In fact, Richochet had looked this up with some connections good old grandpappy had. While daddy Chikoto was rich, he had gotten Mizu her own mansion to live in with five maids, given her everything her greedy gold covered heart desires and wanted her to know how to do things herself.

Oh, and 'the mother was dead' thing?

Nuh-uh.

The mother had divorced the father and was living it large with some hot shot Latino man from Italy. Of course, daddy dearest had decided to not tell her and just said she was dead because he was too ashamed to admit it.

Mizu was abso-fucking-lutely perfect and had everything any kid wanted as a youngster (yep, including that pony – she had three) and it made Richochet want to puke.

Yet, this girl was the only one Richocht put up with. Why? Who knows? She just did. Maybe it was just because she could insult the girl and not get insulted back.

"What?" Richochet snapped to the nauseating girl. "I don't have time for your infuriating self."

Mizu beamed, ignoring her as they walked out the doors, happy she was acknowledged by the lone wolf. She also ignored the fact that Richochet had sped up. "Oh, well, I was wondering, if my kind-" She also ignored the choking from the sarcastic girl, "-and considerate little self-" More choking ensued, "-could walk you to where ever it is you're going?"

"OH, well, I'd be so honored if you would." Richochet said as sarcastically as possible to see if Mizu really was as oblivious as she thought. Seeing the blank look on the girls face, she rolled her eyes and said loudly enough for her to hear. "Stupid bitch."

"Yay!" Mizu cried and tried to hug Richochet, shoving her huge breasts into the aggravated girls' sight, but she missed and fell to the ground. The girl on the ground got up again with a wince and looked at Richochet.

Only to find she wasn't there.

"Hey, where'd she go?!"

Richochet gave a sigh of relief as Mizu ran around looking for her under random stones and behind trees, but not in the most obvious place of an alley way.

'Thank God for that…' She leaned against the hard, cold red brick wall, letting it grit across her back as she moved into a more relaxed pose by crossing one foot over the other at the ankle.

'You can say that again.'

The orange eyed girl gave a silent groan.

'Yes, I'm here again mortal.' It snickered. 'Have you been practicing blocking me out? Silly mortal, you should spend more time on you and those special little… life and energy feeling flairs you have…'

This was one of the reasons she went to the psychiatrist.

That damn voice that wouldn't stop talking to her.

'…You see, I don't feel appreciated enough…'

'That's because you're not!' She snapped back, even though her psychiatrist told her not to do so, as it would promote the 'voice' to talk back to her. 'To be honest, I rather like having someone in my head.'

'Now we're getting somewhere!'

'…That was a self thought…but do take it how you will…' She shook her head and rolled her eyes in irritation. 'As I just love voices being pissy and feeling oh so underappreciated by me...'

'Drop the sarcasm and cynicalism mortal and keep that cannibalism and we're getting somewhere.'

'Sorry, bucko, but that's me. Sod off, voicey.' The Muay Thai stylist sighed and shook her head once more, reached into her pocket and removed the pack of cigarette and lighter, wanting a stress reliever. She wasn't that addicted – she only ever had a couple in her life.

Of course, starting yesterday would do that to you.

'Stop desecrating this body!' It grouched as she put the butt of the smoke up to her lips gently, tasting it on her somewhat chapped lips as she reached a hand up to cover the now lit lighter from the wind. 'STOP!'

'Shut up.'

'Damnit mortal!' She grimaced in shocked surprise as a bolt of electricity rammed down from a near by street lamp and burst into ground in front of her. Her eyes were blinded by the white blue electrical energy that zapped in front of her and dropped her cigarette and lighter in shock, eyes wide. 'Hmph.'

Time stopped for a short moment as Richochet collected her bearings. "…One thing after the other with me isn't it?" She asked rhetorically to the sky, feeling somewhat washed over.

Then she blinked feeling a strange sensation over come her left side, pinpointing a small flux of… energy she could say… coming towards her and it was moving up and down.

It was like the feeling you got after rubbing a balloon against you and then having it against your head to try and statically lift your hair to it. That lifting feeling was what was going up and down her left shoulder.

And strangely enough, it was in time with the loud obnoxious skipping footsteps coming towards her. Humming entered her hearing and she felt a frown of displeasure come to her face.

"I found you!"

Mizu.

Brilliant.

"Why'd you run off like that?!" She asked with such a broken look that it seemed as if Richochet had shot her with an AK 47 or something to that nature - like murdered her pet Chihuahua or something.

"Piss off, you damn bitch." Richochet cruelly shook her head in disgust and turned away to pick up her lighter, but as her had hovered over the cigarette's a feelin of being glared at viciously was too hard to ignore as her stomach churned in discord. Not only that, but the earlier feeling of the flux of energy hadn't gone, it had improved and it had stabilized in the way that it wasn't just a static like feeling.

No, it was now a very small solid warmth.

She turned to the downhearted Mizu who was pouting at the floor. And for a split second a vision of a thermometer popped into her head, the mercury within barely an eighth of the way up. Not only that, she felt hundreds of pinpointed blasts of heat on Mizu at different points all over her body.

Closing her eyes, she jolted in shock when she saw the hundreds of small blasts of heats as blue little dot sized lights. Deciding to probe it out later, she opened her eyes once more.

She smoothly stood up again, looking away from the girl and felt a sharp pain roll in her eyes like it had been sliced. A paper cut like slice that just had vinegar poured over the wound.

"Gah! Richochet! Seishou Richochet! You're crying bloody tears!" Mizu took out a fresh tissue from a small plastic packet and dabbed at the offending blood that trailed from her tear ducts.

There was a solemn silence echoing within her as Richochet moved away after a stunned moment.

'What was going on with me today?' She turned away once more, walking out of the alley way with not so sure movements that she usually had and did have when she walked in. She pointedly ignored the bloody tears still weeping from her tear ducts. 'Everything is coming at once. My past is popping up in dreams for the first time. This idiotic girl won't let up as easily as before. My 'voice' is talking far more than usual too.'

The voice stirred, awakening once again. 'Listening was far too lackluster for my tastes.'

"W-Wait up!" Mizu called from behind. "Now I'm more curious of you than ever!"

Richochet paused, suddenly not finding her half as irritating as before. Narrowing her eyes and shielding herself, she mockingly replied, "Oh? And what could possibly be so damn curious about me of all people?"

"Um…Well…" Mizu looked down, looking like a confused lost puppy. "I…don't know, I…."

The orange eyed female gave a silent sigh through her small slightly rounded nose and looked away as she walked down the road with a stuttering, lumbering girl of magnificent beauty behind her. 'This girl…is…an idiot.' She walked up a hill unconsciously, thinking to herself. 'Hmm, I never really have anything good to say, do I?' The pondered thought came quickly after.

'True. She's probably trying to use any information on you against you…' The voice said lazily, like an animal relaxing out in the sun, slipping off into a light slumber. '…I wouldn't trust her.'

'I don't even trust myself let alone this whelp.'

'Do you trust me?'

'I suppose it's better to trust an imaginary voice compared to a real one...'

"W-Well, you…" Mizu sighed cutely, quite the opposite of Richochet's ones that she was unaware of had a slightly mocking tone to it. She then put her hands up in the air in resignation. "I don't know; I just feel something special in you."

Another strange silence echoed in her head, but this time, it wasn't as lonely. This time, it seemed apprehensive, almost, about the remark and what affect it would have on her.

Richochet clenched her teeth together, feeling the strange sensation of that heat pin points once again on her as Mizu drew nearer, causing more bloody tears to fall, but she didn't bother to wipe them away. More would come down anyway.

'…This goes against every survival skill you have…'

She found her body being taken over, felt her mind being slammed into the corner of her brain forcefully. She burst into a very quick sprint, bookbag smacking her back each time. Mizu following behind slightly, wondering what was wrong.

"R-Richo…chet…" She gasped, good at athletics but not when unprepared and in a skirt of all things, and looked to see the girl stop at the cliff momentarily.

'G-Give me back my body!!' The Muay Thai stylist fighter yelped in her own head. For once, she wasn't in control, and it was frightening her. How could something like this take over her body? Was she possessed by some kind of ghost? 'I demand you give me my body back.' She tried to somehow assert herself to get her body but…

'This is it.'

Mizu screamed as Richochet's body plummeted over the cliff that she could have sworn was never there before. She ran after her, intending to slow down at the edge, but the sudden shock of thunder zapping down but her flinch and move in shock – just enough for the cliff edging to break, sending her falling.

'YOU IDIOT!!'

'It's time, host.'

Richochet blacked out, screams echoing in her mind.


Richochet: Okay, I'm just wondering if people would actually like to read this… so could you please review and tell me if I should? This will be NejixOC since I see way too many SasukexOC and NarutoxOC. Don't you agree? Oh and please tell me if there's something wrong with my character! Bye!


R.