Born as a senator's daughter in Greece, I grew up in luxury, and with an uncommonly good education, even for the highest class noblewomen of Europe. But it is the arts that my father has denied me that I take the most interest in. Swordplay, archery, hand to hand combat, and the other skills practiced by the soldiers. He says that it is not ladylike to practice such things, and that I should keep quiet and focus on my studies.

I didn't appreciate being treated like a doll, like an invalid. So, at the age of ten, I took it upon myself to run away from home. Not long after, I ran into a group of mercenaries. But instead of running away from them, I asked them to teach me what they knew. I asked them to let me join them.

They gave me a chance, but it was difficult for me to prove my worth to them at first. But with my aptitude for their arts, I learned quickly and became an expert in assassination in only a few months, startling them all with my quick progress. They were able to provide me with armor and weapons, and as I grew, my skills only became better. And as an assassin, I was perfect, since no one would suspect a young girl. The best part was that my targets were always people who definitely deserved to die, the scum of the earth. People that I could kill, and not feel guilty over.

But my perfect life was not to last. It all went wrong when I was thirteen years old. A messenger from my absent mother found me, and the encounter was not peaceful in the slightest. I had refused to go with him, and he insisted. My friends tried to protect me from him, resulting only in their deaths. The messenger told me that as the youngest child of his master's favorite daughter, I must return to Greece to be taught in Olympia of my heritage. And when I demanded to know what he was talking about, he revealed to me why I have such skills in combat, and why I never seem to tire when I should. I am only half human, my mother is a phoenix.

So I run. I use my anger, and I draw on strength that I've never known before. Then I knock out the messenger and run for it. I use the money that the group had saved up, taking it hesitantly off their still bodies, and charter a boat to take me away from Europe. Since the captain of the boat happens to be Japanese, though capable of speaking English, he teaches me to speak Japanese. And he has sage advice. "If you are running away from somewhere that you would rather not return to, then Japan is good, because it is still very closed to outsiders."

And of course, it makes sense to me. "Then to Japan we go. I never want to see this place ever again."

So for several months, I stay on the boat as it sails around Africa, and towards eastern Asia, docking at every major port for trading. And in those months, I master a large amount of the spoken language of Japan. The written part proves to be an immense challenge, because of the sheer number of different symbols, but the captain assures me that with practice, I will come to learn it.

The captain finally drops me off. "This place is called Edo, it is where the Shogun has the most power. But be careful not to be caught by anyone suspicious. There are many dangerous people lurking about."

"Thank you for your help, I will never forget it." I unpack my things and get myself dressed in my armor. "And don't worry about me, because anyone who crosses me will die."

I run off with my swords in my bag. There is no need for me to run around with those on my back, otherwise I might be seen and scare someone. And I consciously make a change to start speaking in Japanese, because I don't want anyone to immediately peg me as a foreigner.

I run through the city and find that no one is paying me much attention. That's good, since I want to get my bearings quickly and find a place to hide. Thankfully, the city and surrounding area seems large enough to hide in. The problem is finding a place that no one will come looking for me in.

I spend a couple of weeks hiding out in an old shrine on the outskirts of the city. The area is peaceful enough, and I can go out to hunt for food. The only problem is that autumn will be coming soon, and this old shrine isn't going to protect me very well against the cold. So I have to start searching for a better place to hide out, or maybe find a family to take me in. And I refuse to work in the red light district.

One day, I venture out with my bag, looking for a new place to go. A priest stops me. "Child, you look cold and hungry. Come to the shrine and I will get you some food."

"No thank you, sir, I will be fine."

"Well, at least take this, the nights are cold." He hands me a cloak, and insists so strongly that I can't possibly refuse. I must look so much like an innocent little girl that he hasn't realized that I have daggers in my clothes and in my boots. But even though I'm hardy the catholic that my father wished me to be, I'm not about to convert to whatever weird religion they practice over here. Because after meeting that messenger... I know what I am...