FULL SUMMARY: To all the falling birds who ended up in this mess. To all the proud knights who refuse to rest. To all the dying devils who struggle in the dark. To all the men sent to death with crying hearts. We are all meant to die and sometimes strength isn't enough. We must makes sacrifices so a man can stand up.
A/N: Because summarys are better when they rhyme. Warning OC. I know OCs usually suck but I had to give it a shot. Fanfics are no fun without someone you can plug in to screw eveyrthing around! Because if you did it with a character already existing they'd be ooc. So yeah...I like critisism...a little bit anyway.
Chapter 1
"What flowers would you like, Miya?"
The girl looked up and smiled as her mother. The girl had the same soft lines in the face and cool green eyes. Her mother was hoisting a bag of mulch on her hip, shirt sleeves rolled up, pants cut off to shorts, with her shapeless auburn hair pulled up in a knot.
Miya liked it when her mother dressed for garden work. She looked so much more alive then she did when they dressed for church. When they dressed for church her mother wore starched dresses and heels that clicked and clacked so much it rang in Miya's ears.
Miya who was sitting at the kitchen table eating lunch tapped her little finger on her chin, "Hmmm purple flowers. I like purple."
Her mother sat the bag down with a grunt then she said, "Can you be more specific hun? Well, maybe we can get some rose bushes-"
"But I like purple. There are no purple roses," her mouth crinkled, with a stubborn tone.
"Alright, how about some…petunias?"
Miya nodded, "Tunas. Ok."
Her mother's laugh tinkled out of her throat merrily, "No, no! Petunias!"
"Tunias?"
Once again her mother laughed. Miya laughed too and her mother ran her fingers through her daughter's soft hair, "Fine let's plant some tunas."
Miya's eyes winced and blinked open. Sun light streamed through her room, more of a make shift room now. It was one of the small compartments of a plant observatory with windows for the ceiling, small cot pushed in the corner with no frame, and piles of books everywhere. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, "Not-...again."
She had remembered she was six when she and her mother decided to plant petunias in the garden in Nebraska. But that seemed so long ago. Miya-born as Myriah Catherine Porter-was ten and completely different. A few weeks ago she and her father, Richard Porter, had moved to Yakushima, Japan. Her father was a scientist who worked for G Corporation. They moved to Japan so her father could study certain genes that G Corporation themselves had been studying, her father previously had been apart of that research team, but her father had a different lead and wished to study it in a more secure place.
"What is this place?" Miya asked as her father unlocked the large vault like doors of an old building.
He walked inside, "Old labs that the corporation hasn't used in years. This is perfect for my-our research."
"But is it a perfect-suitable place to live?" her voice was uncertain.
He turned, "Sure. You'll adjust."
She had. She didn't like school very much and only liked to go for recess. Now she didn't have to go. However, she wasn't allowed to leave the labs. The only person she ever spoke to was her father, not including herself, and she had begun to miss her friends, even the teachers. But she knew she had to stay updated as possible with her education and took as many books with her from Nebraska as possible, along with collecting books from her father. That was her school. Her father had plenty of arithmetic books anyway, he wouldn't miss them. Back in Nebraska math was never her strongest subject, but she found it much more interesting when it was the only option she had to diverge from her father. He bothered her, especially how clingy he seemed. He always made her remain in the lower labs with him as he did his work. He gave her all his notes and spoke aloud frequently of his progress educating her in courses of sciences no one ever thought a ten year old would understand. She made sense of it as best as she could.
Math, science, formulas, chemicals, blood, skin, hairs, genetics, and everything A to Z all day long etched into her mind. She could probably pass college exams. She had great memory, memorizing everything he said and showed her. She cursed her self for having good memory she once was so proud of in school. She missed being good at spelling for her memory, decent at Math for dozing off and on in class, and for the simple fact of being a child. Because not only did he drone on and on about his work but about the outside world. The scientific field, new discoveries, public events, natural disasters, everything the net had to offer.
Unlike any normal parent that would try to protect their child from all of this he let her right in. He matured her quickly on purpose. He needed a companion to speak to and for some reason she realized he had a new selfishness that ate him up. That selfishness only wishing to speak to adults, not children. So he turned her into an adult.
"He's crazy, isn't he, Miya?" she asked her self looking in the mirror nailed on the wall. She stretched out the skin under her eye sockets with her fingers, making a face, "Any wrinkles yet, Miya? Expect some soon. Ugh, I'm ten going on forty." Instead of wrinkles she eyed the light brush of freckles on her nose and cheeks.
She dressed quickly in a pair of faded shorts and an old t shirt matching the color of the sun. But it lacked brightness, and become a pastel yellow. She looked back in the mirror.
"Welcome home, Daddy!" she sat on the couch waiting for him as he opened the door. He acknowledged her with, "Can't you do anything with that hair. Did you even brush it today?"
She nodded, "I did!"
"Well it looks like a rat's nest," he then trudged up the stairs. Her mother passed him down the stairs and furrowed her eyebrows as her daughter who was running her fingers through her hair. Her hair was brown like her father's, but looked like gray fused with brown. There was no gray in either of Miya or Richard's hair. It was just the brown being so light and faded of a shade. Then to that as well Miya preferred to keep her hair short. Every year she'd keep her naturally straight hair cut above her shoulders, however it looked even stringier, always getting her eyes.
"Is it really like a nest?" Miya asked.
"No! He's just grumpy," he mother answered, sitting on the couch beside her. Miya didn't respond and continued to pull at her messy hair. Her mother looked at her with loving eyes, "Let me see. All you really need to do it tie it back. Here." She reached into her pocket, "I just cut this off one of my dress. It was too long and I hemmed it. I think it will make a good sash." She tied the mahogany sash in her daughter's hair to make a head band, with the knot on top. The ends were too short to make a bow, so the raggedy ends simply stuck out.
"Is it good?" Miya asked.
"Very good," her mother smiled.
Miya reached for the same sash and tied it in her hair. Her hair was getting longer now and she didn't like it. Long hair always scratched her back when it got stuck under her shirt and made her neck hotter. But there was no way her father would let her cut it.
She opened the floor hatch and climbed down the latter, soon entering the small break room they used as a kitchen. She stepped up on a stool, now up to height over the counter and began to fix her father a pot of coffee.
She heard footsteps and had no smile, "Good Morning, Daddy."
He ruffled his thinning hair and sat down lazily at the table, "Good morning. Is it black."
"It will be," she replied turning the coffee maker on, "I know you don't like for me to put anything in it."
He straightened his thick spectacles, "Thanks."
She got down two cups, "Dreamed of Mom again last night."
"Mhmm."
"Third time in a row, Daddy."
He grunted again. She huffed.
"Richard."
"What do you want me to do about it?" his tone was aggravated. She almost smirked. Saying his first name always sparked an argument. Arguments were always better than boring morning conversations. Even better than locking her self in her 'room' forcing her self to read text books.
"I don't know, you tell me. You're the daddy," she almost mocked, stepping down from the stool and coming to the table. She sat down and he leaned his face in his hands, fingers covering his mouth.
He leaned back up, "I can't take you to see a doctor, you know that."
"Why?"
"If people discover our location it could jeopardize the project," he answered.
She crossed her arms, "You're a father before you're a geneticist."
He narrowed his eyes then sighed and reached out to her. She held back her flinch as he ruffled her hair trying to mimic the way her mother used to, "You're so smart. But right now you're perfecting being a smart-ass. Miya, everything's going to be okay."
She looked away, "Maybe I need some fresh air ," and turned back to him, "Just a little, Daddy? Can I go outside?"
His lips turned into a straight line.
"But, please! I need to breathe. There's not enough air in here," she complained.
He rolled his eyes, "Miya let's not exaggerate-"
"But I'm not! Please Daddy let me hike in the woods. No one's out there to see me! All day it's work, work, work and-!"
"Alright!" he caved in, "Fine! You're right. All work and no play is not good for anyone. Go out and be back within an hour-"
She jumped up and hugged him, "Thank you, thank you, so much!"
"Yeah, yeah," he replied as she ran out.
The sun shined on her face happily. She had been exploring for awhile trying to recognize trees and plants from her science textbooks. Her imagination was reforming and she closed her eyes imagining.
Tweet-tweet! Her eyes snapped open. Many birds roosted in the tall trees. "Hello!" she called. They were alarmed by her shout and flew off.
"I want to be like you," she whispered, "To be a bird so I can fly, fly away from this place. So I can be free. Birds don't have to worry about genes and coffee. Birds only want the sky." She began to run, arms out-stretched. Her tennis shoes dodged tangle roots and bushes and she jumped rock from rock and over a trickling stream. She stopped suddenly and said, "They dance with the wind."
She then began to twirl. She used to take ballet and realized how much she missed it. She threw one leg out, high in the air behind her and held her balance for as long as she could, a stumbled back to normal posture.
"So out of practice. How I wish I could dance like I used to," she mumbled and decided to remain walking. She walked and realized how the trees lessened. She came to some sort of clearing and saw a wooden fence, with the roof of a house peeking over it.
"Yah! Yah!" she heard a female's voice cry sternly. Then a boy's echoed, only a bit more strongly.
Miya looked at the fence with confusion and curiosity leaked into her thoughts.
The fence was too tall. Limbs were visible in corner of her eye. She smiled and came up to a tree with limbs near the bottom. She crouched and with all her might leaped up, arms up, fingers out-stretched. She successfully grabbed the branched and pulled her self up, grimacing. She reached for another and this time swung her legs back and forth and whoop! She had twirled her self on top of the branch, painfully of her stomach. But now she could see over the fence. I feel like a peeping tom. But she ignored that.
She saw a yard with trailing stone paths and figures, leading up to a wooden deck. Two figures stood out there. One was a woman with straight, black hair coming down to her shoulders, held back with a white hair band. The other was a boy about Miya's age, with short, spiked black hair. Both figures wore white kimonos tucked into loose black pants. They wore no shoes.
The boy threw a punch and the woman blocked with her forearm. The boy then kicked high in the air and the woman dodged it swiftly.
Miya's dark green eyes were big and excited. She rose up on the branch to get a better look. The woman then said something in Japanese to the boy, them both still in fighting positions. The woman said something else and he backed up. She kicked in the air while spinning, correcting him of his previous mistake in the move.
The boy then repeated the move. He looked like-they both looked like they were dancing.
"Wow," she breathed, almost too loudly.
The boy's large brown eyes drifted up to her, "Oi!" The woman looked back in surprise at Miya in the tree.
"Oh-oh!" Miya gasped, embarrassed, losing her balance. She slipped off and screamed. Her knee hit a branch on her way down, her crying out, and made contact with the ground fast on her stomach with an oof! followed by a pain filled groan.
The woman and boy ran out the gate to the crumpled girl on the forest floor. Miya heard the woman mumble something in Japanese and the soft thump her knees made on the ground next to Miya as she knelt down.
She called to Miya and gently turned her over on her back. Tears stung Miya's eyes, "Ogh-"
The boy loomed over with intent eyes. The woman repeated her sentence.
"Ca-an't-I'm sorry," Miya half whimpered, "I can't understand. I-I don't speak Japanese."
"I said are you okay?"
Miya's eyes widened, "Uh-uh-"
"Come on," the woman said and helped the girl sit up. Miya looked at her leg that twinged horribly. Her knee was badly cut, trails of blood running down her skinny leg.
"Are you okay?" she asked again. Miya looked up into those chocolate eyes. She suddenly felt safe in the woman's arms. She nodded, "Y-yes."
The woman looked back at Miya's knee, "Oh, you're hurt. Let me help you-"
The boy then spewed Japanese at the woman. The woman turned back and said something sharply.
"What did he say?" Miya asked.
The woman turned back, "Don't mind my son. Come on now," and slowly lifted Miya up, "If you're not careful it will get infected."
The boy suddenly change his language, "But Mother-she was spying on us!"
"Was not!" Miya shot back. The woman carried her into the garden on the path. Miya saw they lived in a traditional Japanese wooden house, to Miya it seemed like a cabin. Miya suddenly began to get nervous of the new strangers she fell upon, literally. But the woman seemed set on helping Miya-for what reason?
Miya shut her eyes wondering if she made a mistake trusting the woman.
XxXxXxXx
There ya go. Review!