𖥔 ꧁ ❦ ꧂ 𖥔
Warning: harsh language and child abuse.
𝙅𝙖𝙣𝙪𝙖𝙧𝙮 25, 1998
𝑬𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻 𝒀𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑺 have come and gone since the sudden addition to the Zen' in clan. Eight years Naobito and the rest of the clan's elders, have kept a close eye to the child they didn't bother to name. It didn't really matter to them since it was a female, so the child eventually got its name from a servant woman of the clan that took care of her.
𝑯𝒂𝒚𝒂𝒎𝒊.
It meant rare beauty. The child was indeed special, not only in the power sense but also physically. Although little Hayami was only eight years old, she was quite a beauty. She had natural red plumb lips, long silky black hair and a set of unique upturned gray eyes that hid myriad of emotions. It was those rare eyes that made the female servant call her Hayami, but giving such a pretty name to a slave and a weapon, that was seen as nothing but an item, had cost her her head.
Though the name remained, no one really used it. They just needed something for her information folder, her "birth certificate".
Hayami was treated as an inanimate object, a weapon. In the eyes of the Zen' in she wasn't a person, a human. She was only valued for her power. A power a lot craved. But even though she was invaluable to the clan, that didn't stop them from treating her as an item. An item that didn't eat, sleep, breath or feel. And that's exactly what she was. Trained, or more like got abused, every day and night until she reached what they called the Messiah of jujutsu.
Hayami didn't really understand what they meant with that, but from what little her eight-year-old brain could make sense of, she thought it was someone very strong. It's not that she wasn't intelligent, she was quite smart for her age too, it's just that she wasn't really allowed to think of anything except battle strategy. 𝑨𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒑𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌, 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐.
But what is a child without imagination, without naivety? Hayami just wasn't a child.
What these walls should have been for a young child was a blanket, a shield from the cold and harsh reality, but for Hayami they were a cage, a prison. This "house" was a hell.
It was a hell made of bricks and filled with monsters. It was a hell that took and took and never gave back. A hell that made her wish for heaven, and hope for freedom. But this hell was all she had, it was all she knew, it is all she's ever gonna know. This was her sin for existing.
Today was just another typical day for little Hayami. She sped walked with her head lowered down and her feet bare towards the training room. Her hands wore a pair of thin white gloves and were holding a sword a tad bit smaller than her. She had sword training today. Her personal favorite, or in better word, most preferable in comparison with everything else. She didn't like anything, but then again, 𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒑𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒓 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔. At least during this training session, she didn't get beat up a lot.
Just as she was passing through the cold hallway, her ears caught the sound of soft whispers. The maids were discussing the current rumors and the mention of her name made her freeze in place.
"Have you heard?" the first one asked, "It seems like the Gojos are going to pay a visit today!"
"What? Why a visit all of a sudden?"
"They heard about the new future special grade sorcerer, of course!" a third one answered
"Hayami-chan? But I thought they knew about her already,"
"Well, I don't know, but if you ask me, they're probably thinking of marriage!" a fourth one joined the conversation.
Gojo...visit...today...marriage... as little Hayami was contemplating the words she managed to grasp a sudden thought intruded her little bubble. I'm going to be late!
Her little feet began to carry her again to her final destination, this time she broke out in a full sprint, too afraid of the consequences of being late. But even so, she didn't escape that fate.
"Where were you, you little brat?!" her instructor shouted, having too little patience with the child.
Hayami didn't respond. Instead, she lowered her head more, bit her lip and clenched her little fists around her wooden sword. She was awaiting her punishment. Though it never came.
"You never learn, do you? You are lucky those Gojo assholes are coming today to see a piece of shit like you. The elders want you to look presentable,"
Their words always hurt more than their fists and kicks ever did. They cut her heart like a blade and created wounds that her technique couldn't heal. But Hayami told herself she needed to learn how to protect her soul from hurting. Right now, she didn't have any solutions, she was too young and inexperienced to come up with one. In the end she decided to hide behind a mask of emotionlessness instead of facing the problem. She thought she had become quite good at it too, as she watched her "teacher" getting irritated by her lack of response.
"Even so, don't expect the training to be less intense than any other time, now take a fighting position and let's start!"
𖥔 ꧁ ❦ ꧂ 𖥔
"You're incapable of doing anything right! You dreadful child!" A rapid movement sent the painful hit across the child's face. Hayami's frail body slammed onto the wooden floor, bruising her elbows as they scratched over the surface of the damaged wood. The training sword still in her hand, her grip remained tight.
"You're a disgrace for this clan! You do not deserve to be called a Zen' in!" He shouted in anguish as his body surged with hatred, his actions becoming quite frenzied by the second as he grabbed the hem of her yukata and hurled her against the wall, the force of the hit forcing her to choke from her spit and the sword to clutter to the ground, having lost the strength to grip it anymore.
"How many times do I have to tell you that perfection is required of you? You are a weapon and weapons need to be perfect in order to be used!" He screamed angrily, his voice resonating in the eight-year-old's ears and bouncing off the walls.
The man sighed, "Get up and go get ready, they will be expecting you in an hour. We're done for today" with that the shoji door slid shut with a loud bang.
Hayami laid at the cold ground of the training room. Her chest rising and falling at an irregular fast pace, her eyes closed in exhaustion and her eyebrows scrunched from the pain of her most recent bruises. The training was finally over and she was still alive. Though that wasn't much of a relief.
Her instructor had just left, not wanting to be bothered with her existence anymore. He informed her that she had about an hour before their "esteemed" guests came and she needed to be ready by then. But she wasn't really motivated to get up from the ground. 𝑰𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒐 𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒖𝒑 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏... Yet she somehow always managed. Maybe it was her stubbornness or maybe just her will to live, the instinct to survive, that gave her the drive to raise to her feet, or maybe the silver of hope she still had left. She didn't really know.
With a heavy heart and a tired body, little Hayami managed to get back up once more. She made her way slowly to the servant quarters where the kind women helped her bath, treated her small wounds, fed her and clothed her with a surprisingly good and exquisite looking red kimono. Little Hayami and even the maids themselves were confused at the sight of the fancy kimono, after all they weren't used to such luxury. But they knew this wasn't going to happen again anytime soon.
The kimono was a dark red. It was decorated with flowery designs that were sew with golden threads. The design wasn't complicated, and it didn't have too much décor on it. It was simple and elegant and totally not something a girl like Hayami was ever allowed to wear. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen in her eight years of existing in this world, in this prison.
𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒅 𝒊𝒏 the 𝒈𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝒄𝒂𝒈𝒆, 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒄𝒖𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒍𝒚.
"Pretty"