Chapter 1
Cold. Chills.
The roar was a dull blur. It passed between bated ears, danced in front of glassy eyes. It was all done. It could have been different. Why? Something flashed in those eyes. Those emerald pools. Pain? Blood had stained the ground. It had taken hold of everything. And here she was. Sitting in it. The very cause. The very reason. It rose and fell with shock. Horror was the only emotion now. A bitter end. A bitter beginning. Her muscles ached. God…did they ache. What had just happened? She tossed her eyes to the side to see it. What was that? So desperately she wanted to reach out and touch the blurred shadow. But her arms. They weren't moving. She wasn't moving. Oh God. She wasn't moving.
Realization finally dawned on her, a blood curdling shriek pulling itself from her throat. It shook her entire core, reverberating and bouncing around her chest as the tears began to boil at the corners of her eyes. She glanced up at the victor, his hands still around her neck. Her breath caught. Get off. The cries and screams of those around were all but a faint buzz. "If you do the job right, you'll be earning more money than you could imagine!" It cut through her. What had she done? She screamed again, adrenaline pumping through her veins as she lunged back at him. Her fingers grasped his jaw, the other in the nape of his neck. She pulled, a sickening snap sending shivers down her spine. She was spent. His huge body tumbled forward, his hands slackening. He fell on her. Who was clearly the victor now? Furious tears streamed down her cheeks as she pushed him off. The pads of her fingers pressed lightly into that creamy porcelain skin. Still warm. This wasn't happening. She tried to open her mouth to say something, but she couldn't. Her voice wasn't coming. And they were all there.
A crack. Pain. And she hunched forward, blood falling from between her fingers.
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The Roarin Twenties.
A time where America was big and booming. Where everything was looking up, people investing, the money and economy seeming to be plentiful. Where hallmark families sat down and ate dinner together, dad smoking a pipe and reading the paper after a long day at work and mom putting the pie upon the table. He worked hard to provide for his family any way that he could. And they appreciated him for it. The world was good. The country was good. That's what they always wanted you to think.
At least, that's what the generations before them had thought.
The land of the free.
More like the land of the wealthy.
They could do whatever they pleased. Did it matter that it had stopped the pies? Stopped the tobacco? Stopped everything that they had known. The government was responsible. They had taken it all away. He was an honest working man, minding and tending his bar. The best in town, a lot of people said. Home brewed. Expensive. But caught at a good price. Too bad it was all for naught. Everywhere else, it seemed, the world was going on with its business. There was nothing wrong with that, but still. What about the little guy?
She wasn't happy when she saw those men approach the door, their business suits all done up nice, their shoes shined, hair slicked back. But it wasn't like she hadn't been expecting it. Her eyes were hard emeralds in their sockets, her handsome features torn down into a frown as she stood behind the counter, her hands busy with a mug of soon to be beer. Brewed right in the back. The best stalk any man would taste. She would bet her life on it. But soon, it would all be tales and rumors. Their voices were deep and penetrating as they spoke outside of the door. Something about…what was that? Raising an eyebrow, she stared out the window, catching a glimpse of what she assumed to be an agent. He shook his head exasperated as they finally made their way inside.
She watched as they scanned the patrons of the small, dimly lit room. A smirk graced her features when all they could find were hard working men on their way home for the night. Nothing double sided here. Not a thing.
'What is this?' she thought as one of them stepped forward, his shoes clicking lightly against the aged wooden planks beneath. His eyes were a dull grey, his hair a similar shade and his demeanor even more so. She raised an eyebrow when he cleared his throat and slapped a piece of paper down upon the counter.
"Excuse me, young man," he began. She didn't even stop him. It was a common mistake. Her hair was cropped short, she was wearing trousers, and certainly, she was working. So, it was forgivable. But, if she did say so herself, she was mighty handsome. Her smirk spread further at the statement. "By law, you are to cease the selling and producing of all alcoholic beverages within the next twenty four hours. As of this morning, January 16, 1920, it is illegal to produce and sell anything with said contents. Do I make myself clear?" Her eyes grew wide at the statement. Her lip twitched. Her throat felt dry. What? This was the first time she had heard anything about this law. Maybe it was a hoax.
"Unfortunately for you, pal, I don't find this funny. Leave now before I get Charlie to see you out." She motioned to the corner where a large man sat, his face scarred with the wars. The quieter man paled a little when he saw the burly figure, his fingers subtly grasping around the binder that he had.
"And neither do I, young man. I assure you, if we find out you've poured a single drop more than you already have, we will throw you to the county faster than you can spit, son." A threat. Her eyes locked with the man, her handsome features set in stone. Silence pervaded the bar.
"Haruka," a voice called out from the back. It was older. Wisened. Probably belonging to a man in his mid forties. All assumptions were swept aside when a broad shouldered man emerged from the back, his brown eyes settling upon the guests. He ran his large hands through his sandy blonde hair as he approached, an inquisitive look in his eyes.
"Mr. Tenoh, as law would have me do, your place of business is from hence forth closed. You have twenty four hours to clean and purge this place from the presence of alcohol and anything closely related to it. We will be back." They should have known.
When the man was the one providing, how could you stick it to him?
The troubles were just beginning.
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1922.
It had been two years since that day. Of course they had savings. Her father had made sure of that. They got by, even though he was unemployed. Even though her mother was sick. And she couldn't do a damn thing about it. But now. They had sold their house. A beautiful estate complete with a white picket fence and everything. Why did this matter? It did. It mattered the world to her.
Haruka Tenoh.
A fourth generation immigrant from Japan. One could barely tell she was even closely related to the little island. She was handsome. Tall, muscular, well toned. Her eyes were dark emeralds, and her sandy blonde hair was cropped short. It was easier this way. Men wouldn't pick on her and the women. Oh. The women. They would flock. And it was nice.
Without the alcohol ban, there wouldn't have been anything. No Slaughts. No fights. No blood. No Kaioh's. And no Michiru. Which was worse? No money? Or no Michiru? Haruka couldn't honestly say, even if she wanted to.
But never mind that. What mattered was the present, something that would quickly become the past.
She looked up at the grey sky, her eyes reflecting the stormy emotion that she perceived. Rain was threatening to spit down at her, threatening to drench her to the bone. Bones. Firewood! Right! Shaking herself out of her revere, she put one foot in front of the other. Her shoes had definitely seen better days. The brown leather was worn so thin that she could feel the wind passing through it. She could feel every rise and fall in the ground beneath her, every single pebble. But what did it matter? She had no time to care for herself. At least she had a coat. At least she had trousers that fit her, tattered as they were. At least her shirt hadn't been made into strips of rag…yet. At least she was alive. So long as she was, they would be too. She would make sure of it.
Confident. Maybe even a little bit arrogant. What had she to lose? The young woman bent over a small heap of garbage that she had started to pass in the dank alley way. She grimaced a little as she tossed the rotting pieces of trash aside, searching for anything. Anything to eat, to make a fire. A sigh rolled out her lips as she stood up straight, her fingers running through her hair. She hadn't eaten in a while. None of them had.
"Well. At least there's always bugs," she said to herself, her voice housing a husky, bitter edge to it as she chuckled helplessly to herself. Something glinted out of the corner of her eye. Street lamps flickered to life, illuminating the edge of the alley that she stood in. What was that? She moved a little closer to the shiny surface. Her eyes grew wide when she saw the silver. A nickel.
"Lucky!" She said to herself as she reached down to pick it up hastily. But not before a loud growl issued to her right. She looked down the connected alley to see a shadow of a man, his eyes ravenous, his hair mangled and marred. His eyes were wild, those yellow teeth barred as he moved defensively forward. He looked as though he was about ready to pounce. No way. This was hers. This was their break. With this they almost had enough. The young blonde snarled a little, her eyes now holding murderous intentions.
Instinct upon instinct. She needed this. Her muscles jumped as they tensed, her shoulders hunching forward as she slowly stood, the cool metallic surface burning deeply into her palm. Over her dead body. Both of them knew it.
And if that's what it was going to take, then so be it.
The large man lunged out of the shadows, his hands grabbing her shoulders tightly as he pushed the young woman hard into the brick that was directly behind her. She did not feel the pain. Only the raw instinct. She gazed up at the broken man for a split second before she dipped down low. With all of his weight upon her shoulders, he stumbled forward, a surprised yelp issuing from his throat as he was thrown off balance. Her chance. With one sweeping movement, she brought her fist up to meet with his ribs. It would bruise. But she didn't want that. Moving with her momentum, the young woman was now to the side, her elbow coming into contact with his neck. She was sure that one hurt. She couldn't help but smirk.
Another blow to his rib. Again. And again. And again. Until she felt that snap. Heard the crunch. Felt the bone give way. His eyes widened with pain, his breath coming sharp and fast. He collapsed. And she was the victor. That nickel. It was hers. She opened her palm to look at the coin, a small morose frown placed upon her lips. Finally. They were almost there. How much longer. She couldn't tell. One more kick, just for good measure, she began to walk away, but not before a long drawn out clap caught her attention.
It was in this moment that she had no idea how vital that small scrap would be. She had no idea what was just beginning. She had no clue when that man in the white suite came out of the shadows, his eyes dark with mischief. But what else was a desperate man to do? She would swallow her pride for any semblance of hope right now. Anything at all. That's probably the only reason why she allowed him to approach.
"My my my, son. You make quick work," he mused, his voice invasive. Prideful. Rich.
"You do what you can when you're desperate enough," she replied back. Thank god she had such an ambiguous voice. Who was he? God? He probably thought so. She scoffed inwardly at the thought.
"You mean when you want it enough?"
"No." She eyed him, her eyebrow quirked curiously. What an odd choice of words. "If I could just take everything I wanted, like I did here, then I would not be in this situation in the first place, would I…sir?" She said it with a sneer. Disrespect danced in her shining emerald eyes. Her fists balled a little. He was probably here to flaunt that which he had in front of her. Haruka snorted.
"You've got fire," he mused. She snorted again, rolling her eyes.
"And you smell like a dog," she growled. She didn't have time for this. Throwing her head a little, she pushed past the man, her shoulder colliding into his with a bit more force than she had initially intended. This was pointless. She needed to be at home. No. It wasn't home. It was a little shack with an ill thatched roof and a rickety old plank for a door. Regardless, she had to get there before it got too cold. A hand gripped her shoulder, fingers pressing hard into her flesh. He wasn't going to let her go.
"A dog that can strip the flesh of any scrappy little swine," he shot back. The girl let out a sigh, stopping in her tracks.
"Go away."
"No."
"I don't even know you."
"But you should want to."
"I think I know perfectly well what I should and shouldn't want to do. And what I don't want is to know you."
"That's too bad. There would have been a lot more silver involved if you would have kept your fat snout shut for a few seconds." Her eyes widened. What was this? Blackmail? A job? Did he want...oh nasty. She wasn't some soldier, or some young boy that…oh wait. Right. She did look the part.
"I'm not interested in milking your little willy." She could have said it so much rougher.
"That's not what I'm interested in, son." She turned to him and gave an inquisitive brow. She was desperate….she really truly was.
"What do you mean?" She asked. Her voice was gruff still. She hated to bend to people like this. She would have preferred to die rather than go and beg to someone. But this wasn't only her life that she was playing with.
"Oh, I see. Now you're attention has peaked. Too bad, I'm bored of you now." He shrugged his shoulders as he took his hand off of the young woman, his arms crossed in front of his chest. What a child. She rolled her eyes, her fingers running roughly through her hair in sheer agitation.
"Either you tell me and stop playing games, or I leave. I have more important things to deal with than to sit and banter with a brown nosed leech." She would give him five more seconds before she left.
One. Her eyes locked on his, hers narrowing at the notion.
Two. She grit her teeth when he just shrugged his shoulders.
Three.
"All the money you could possibly need." This had to be a joke. She shook her head and laughed in his face.
"Yeah right. If anyone had that sort of cash, they wouldn't be dishing it out to the first person combing the allies."
"It's not a joke. I would just need some services in return." There it was. That word. Services. She wasn't some slum slut. She didn't need to let some man have his way with her body. That was the last thing she would do.
"I'm no ones lap dog," she growled as she began to turn. But he caught her shoulder again and forced her back around.
"Sure, but a prize? A champ? All you'd have to do is take care of some other men every Friday night. That's not so hard, right? You can already hold your own in a fight, so why not profit from it?" Was he suggesting…wait. What was this crazy bastard suggesting?
"Wait. A fist fight?" Her interest had been caught.
"Yes. A simple fist fight. All you'd have to do is go down, rough some men up, then you could go home with a fist full of cash and spend it as you pleased. Of course, if you had no home to go to, there would always be lodging at my estate. What do you say, spit?" She didn't like the name that he had just made up for her.
"Haru." Hooray for sexual ambiguity.
"What does it matter, champ? I've been watching you. I'm sure your parents deserve much better." Her gaze grew steely, her fists tightening into balls as he said this. What did he know about her parents? He was an outsider. A rich slug. Her jaw grew ridged as he moved around her in a circle, eyeing the well built body with a small nod of his head. Red flags were going up everywhere. This guy. He was seedy. Something about him was underhanded. Sneaky. Bad for business.
"How much?" But she was desperate. Her pride bubbled in her chest, pushed down and forgotten for the time being.
"Enough."
"How much." It was a demand not a question.
"Enough to pull them out of that shack and put them up in a proper abode." She bit her lip, contemplating. He was holding something back. She knew it. But what had she to lose? Really. It was a question that she kept on asking herself. What was there to lose? There was nothing. Nothing could be worse. And he was basically offering her free money.
"Fine." A large smile spread across the older mans lips, his sapphire eyes twinkling with delight as he clapped the young woman upon the back.
"Wonderful, wonderful!" he exclaimed. His short hair bounced as he took her hand in his and shook it roughly. "You can start tonight!" She blinked quickly, startled. What did he say? Her nose twitched a little as she tried to pull away. It was Friday, wasn't it? He would have none of it, though. Every muscle in her body was screaming at her to get away, but she just couldn't humor them. His arm was slung around her shoulders, pushing her in the direction of the street. The purr of an engine caught her ears. An auto? It had been ages since she had ridden in one. A bit of childish excitement sparked in her eyes at the prospect. And he didn't miss a beat.
"Welcome to the family, Haru."
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"Circling to the right, Bones delivers Hunnigan a mighty blow. Oh! What was that? Hunnigan is in the dirt! Is something broken? And there he goes, Bones is on top of him, pummeling with everything he's got. Strike after strike to his fallen opponents face. Oh, there's blood! Blood is spewing out of his nose, it must be broken! Will he submit? What is that man doing? Oh! OH! HUNNIGAN HAS JUST JAMMED HIS THUMB INTO BONES'S EYE!! OH MY GOD!"
The yells of the crowd shook the window that was placed in front of her, the cries and jibs of excitement echoing loudly throughout the establishment. The spectators themselves were about to pummel each other, it seemed. That's what gambling did. Especially when something like this could have happened. It never ceased to surprise her.
"HUNNIGAN HAS JUST PUSHED BONES TO THE GROUND, HIS FISTS FLYING. THERE YOU HAVE IT FOLKS! THERE IT IS!" Her voice echoed over the building, drowned out, she imagined, by the excited yells. "With an endless onslaught of fists, his face is more than disfigured. But wait, is there something else? Will something else happen? He's not moving." Hearts were stuck in throats as they watched. Maybe something miraculous would come of this. Perhaps their favored fighter would pull something out of his bag of miracles. But he didn't. "Hunnigan has just pulled Bones up from his slumped position. His back is against the wall now, our underdogs knee jamming into his rib. I don't know about you, but that looked painful."
She very well couldn't say that it sounded painful. She could barely hear anything in her little box. She spoke excitedly into the microphone that was placed before her, her soft, feminine voice echoing through all that listened. This den of sin. She didn't doubt that a female announcer was one of the charms of the place. This…place. Seedy. Dark. Hideous place. Well, at least, that's what it would seem to most who hadn't spent time in those seats, gambling and betting. It was the easiest way to make a quick buck. Sure, sometimes you would lose everything, but other times, you'd gain just as much. It was a price a lot of working men were willing to make. And it was a price that the rich were willing to die for. What was the point? They controlled everything anyways. Money made the world go round. That's just how it was. Nothing could change that.
"Oh, he has him by the collar now. And raising his hand above his head, what does he have? The white! He has the white!" She gazed down at what was before her, those sparkling sapphire eyes dull with disinterest. Of course she was a good actress. What else was she good for? She saw the man, his battered and beaten form looking up towards the box in which she stood. She nodded her head before speaking once again. They had a mutual understanding. "Time to send that dog to the slaughts." It was the last thing she had to say. Out with it. It was done. The roar of the crowd shook the window once again. She could feel it in her very core. She took a deep breath as she pushed her chair away from the counter that was placed before her. Something was stirring in her stomach. Maybe she was hungry. Probably. She hadn't eaten since that morning.
Mind preoccupied, she didn't even notice the brutality that was taking place down upon the floor. Everything was warm. She felt caged. She had to get out for some air. The young woman stood, her legs automatically going towards the door where she opened it. Another few feet later, she was slipping out the heavy steel door clearly marked EXIT.
The chill of the evening hit her flushed face. Swallowing softly, she leaned back against the alley, her eyes closed for a few moments. It had always been this way. Ever since she was a small child. Every week, these fights would be held. Every week she would attend them and announce for them. Every week, she would put countless men to their deaths. She felt like the executioner. The ones down on the floor. They were just the tools. What was really the difference? She bit her lip as she stood in the shadows, her modest white dress lit delicately in the moonlight. A beauty, she was. One would think her fragile, soft. And in reality, she was. But she had to act for the crowd. If the profits dropped, it would be her fault. She had to keep them wanting more. That's what a good announcer did. She cleared her throat. Generally, she was a quiet, soft spoken woman. In fact, if anyone saw her outside of that booth, they would think her completely changed, or would not associate that voice with the polite woman that stood before them.
After all, that was one rule.
No one was allowed to see her. It was a liability thing. It would be bad for business if something bad were to happen to her. So who she was in that room and who she was every where else were entirely two different entities in the publics mind.
But this wasn't what she needed. Taking a deep breath through her nose, she ran her fingers through her long wavy hair. It was blue. Weird. A pale blue. Beautiful in its own right, but certainly an oddity. It was a family trait. Just something that happened to be infused into their genetic coding. They would almost be done cleaning. She was sure of it. That crew. It took them four minutes and twenty three seconds exactly. Every time. She counted. A pastime for those long minutes where all she could do was sit in that room by herself and in her own company. So. She counted. Counted a lot of things, usually. Sometimes it would be the seconds, sometimes it would be how many balding men were in her direct sight. It was just a method of passing time.
Three minutes and thirty seconds into the cleaning, she noticed familiar headlights shine down her way. She looked towards them, her lithe form shrinking a bit more around the corner that she was situated on. The damp ground echoed as footsteps disturbed the murky puddles below, the purr of the engine peeking her curiosity. So. Something fresh was about to turn its head, huh? Curiosity getting the better of her, she peeked her head around the corner, but made sure she wasn't seen or noticed. White suit. Of course. Of course that's where he had gone. Her eyebrow shot up when she saw what was under his arm.
Scrawny. Certainly.
He had definitely seen better days, she was sure. This new man was thinner than most, but still seemed to have a semi decent build about them. His fists were balled as though he was a little uncomfortable with having the rich man in such close proximities. His knuckles, she noticed, were a little red, as if he had just been in a fight. Probably had been. That's generally when he brought new toys home. She rubbed her forehead. Helpless. He was a helpless man. She shook her head, frowning a little as she stared at the young man's back. He really didn't know what he was getting into, did he? Poor guy. She was honestly doubting whether or not he would last the trial run.
Everyone else was so much bigger. Their muscles so much sleeker. They were strong, desperate animals. And rightfully so, they were kept in their cages. This one, this one was different definitely. But there must have been SOME promise, because she knew that the man in the white suit would definitely not squander his money. He didn't lose intentionally. In fact. He hated losing at all. When he lost…bad things happened. She shuddered at the thought.
The young man turned. And she stopped. Stopped what, who knew? But she just stopped. He was handsome. And that was just the tip of the iceberg. The air about him was arrogant, confident, even though his eyes were sunken in with what she assumed was lack of sleep or lack of food. Nothing that couldn't be remedied. Her throat tightened as she watched his hesitant movements. Watched him. She could feel a small blush creep up over her cheeks, her eyes intently fixed upon him. Pity she would see such a handsome man beaten. It almost made her want to grab his arm and push him back where he had come from. She knew that he would certainly be better off. Even if he didn't know it yet. Sandy locks danced around his dirty face, his green eyes brushing the corner which she hid around. Holding her breath, she darted out of view. Not to be seen. She wasn't supposed to be seen. Pressing her body against the building, she closed her eyes and waited.
"Hey, Ru! They need you!" The sudden call of her name made her jump. She had lost track of time. She jerked her head to look at the bald janitor. She nodded her head, smiling politely before she moved past him. Swallowing, she pushed down her shaken demeanor and fought back her blush before she moved inside.
"My apologies Dave."
With that, she was back in her dark room, sitting down at her chair and clearing her voice before she flicked on the mic. "Sorry for the wait folks! It appears as though a new cat crossed my path while I grabbed a bit of air. I'm sure you'll become acquainted, but in the mean time, let's bring out Smith and Williams!"
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AN: There you have it. Okay, I know I basically fell off the face of the planet, but you have to forgive me! The whole internet thing was getting old, and who would have thought that I would revert back into my fanfiction phase? Really. But, anyways. Here it is. My new fic. I know I know. It's been a while. And I really am a bit rusty, but everything is going according to my plan. Yes. Yes it really is. If anyone has any questions, feel free to drop me a line. A review would be wonderful. Fantastic, even! And before anyone really does ask, both families migrated to the states generations ago. It just seemed to fit into my story better. I couldn't get the whole twenties look out of my head, so I just went with it, as you can tell. I can honestly say that I don't expect a lot of hits or reviews, but I can wish and dream, can't I? And before anyone goes all "GROSS" this IS a Haruka x Michiru fic. If you have a problem with it, then don't read it. In all honesty, I should probably censor myself (haha, irony) and put this as rated M for excessive gore, violence, and probably a bit of sexuality, but I'm not really in the mood and if I did put it on M, then I'm sure there would be even less feedback. Really, the more reviews I get, the more inspired and motivated I will be to update. ; I have a bad habit of forgetting or procrastinating, but! Never fear! If all goes well, then I'm going to FORCE myself into updating weekly. Probably every Saturday. (I'm so serious about this one that I even am in the process of a chapter outline. Amazing, no?) With the exception of the next two weeks since I'm going to be in Fargo, North Dakota. That's only a 26 hour road trip. -.- Annnnyways. Thanks for reading. Please tell me what I could do better, for improvement is key! And if you can't think of anything, stroke my ego. Please. It's gone untouched in so long. Haha. Anyways.
Till next time.
PS: So…I don't have an editor right now, so until she gets her internet working again, you guys are just going to have to deal with me. Raw, emotionless me. .-. Thanks for the understanding!
