Disclaimer:: I do not own Naruto.
I only own my OCs, and this story.
I am fixing some things in this story, and continuing it once again.
I find it a little sad sometimes. I've noticed over my life, that people only care about what you do, not what happens to you when you do it. Or, when they do it.
My name is Sasaki Miyuki. I am sixteen years old, and I was born in a slave house. The people that I must answer to, my 'Masters', as I'm supposed to call them, call me Insanity. Why, I'm not very sure. It isn't in my name at all. Sometimes I think that it's because of the way I fight, the way that I just am, but then other times, a different thought pops up in my head.
I hate most people, I always have, even if I don't exactly have a reason to. And while I may care what happens to me, I usually never speak out. I've been taught against it. Talk back, and you'll get beaten until you've passed out, or worse; and I don't mean being killed, I mean that there are must more painful ways to be treated until you pass out. I would know.
My main Master is the owner of the slave house. Sometimes, it's a blessing, because other people don't touch me or beat me without his permission first. Other times, it's a curse. He's ruthless, in more ways than one. Most of the time, I just want to scream, want to cry out in pain. But I don't. It would only makes things much, much worse for me.
Anyway, my Master's name is Akuma; Demon. It's a perfect name for him. I'm not positive if it's his real name, or if he just chose that name, but it fits him well. As the owner of the slave house, he sends people out to kidnap young girls. I've seen them range from five years old, to forty. After you've lived in a slave house where nothing is hidden to you, you notice things, and mature quickly, in body and in mind.
The females are usually sold or used by the guards, as sex toys. They're disposable, easily replaceable if broken, or torn too greatly to be fixed. Kind of reminds you of a stuffed animal you've had as a child, and then suddenly, you tear it, you tear it so much that it can't be fixed. Sure, it's yours, so you're kind of disappointed that it broke so easily, even though you've used it for a long time. But also, you're happy, because you have an excuse to get a new one.
The males are trained to be strong, to fight, to protect the people around them, not caring about themselves. They are usually sold to rich people in need of body guards, or we keep them, using them ourselves. The males usually only stay alive for a couple of months after they begin training, and then die from harsh training conditions. I once saw a ten year old boy die right in front of me, one of the guards killed him while sparring, on purpose. Of course it struck a cord in me, but I couldn't do, or say, anything. So I stood there and watched, like so many others did.
I am not disposable, I am needed in the slave house. An important part of it in fact, and it's the only thing that's kept me alive this long. I am the only female that is used to both. Both sex, and for fighting. About every month or so, there will be a week where Akuma says I am free to anyone, to be used at anytime, just don't kill me. That started five years ago, when I was ten. A year before that, Akuma had some men tie me down, pinpoint the place where my developing ovaries were located, and rip them right out. After all, I couldn't be pregnant, and still fight. They didn't bother with the other women, it took money and time, and besides, every baby born in the slave house, belonged to the slave house. Just like me. I was born and raised here, in this god awful place.
As for the fighting, I have been trained since I was six. Explosions, no problem. Setting or disarming a bomb, I'm the person for it. Quiet assassinations, I'm the one to look for. Suicide missions, I can come back from alive. Not many people know how I do it, but then again, many people that go along with me don't make it back alive. Of course, Akuma knows this. He usually sends some men with me that were going to be killed soon anyway. The other males would cause an uproar if they knew that the males that went me weren't killed by the enemy, that in fact, I was the one that ended their lives. Of course, it wasn't always on purpose.
I tend to go a little insane when I'm fighting.