I DO NOT OWN JSRF. Now I must go and beg at its creators' feet until they let me have it.

I DO own Fret/Aijou Daikirai (Her name literally translates from the Japanese as Love Hate :O)

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The purple-haired teen looked up at her father with absolute terror. Eyeliner had mixed with tears and run down her face, leaving dark black streaks. She coughed, before drawing a few sharp breaths, another teardrop balancing on her lower lid. It trickled down her face as she listened to her father's drunken screaming between swigs from a bottle containing some sort of white spirit. She couldn't make out what it was, but it was most likely vodka – it was what he drank the most.

Things hadn't always been like this. There had, in fact, been a time when they were all one big, happy family. But take a mother out of the equation, and things start to go downhill. The Daikirai's only child, Aijou, was the one to be hit the hardest. They were a close-knit family – Aijou was only five years old when her mother lost her battle with cancer.

Her grades plummeted, and she started skipping school. Eventually, she stopped going altogether. Although there was one thing that she could find solstice in. The feeling of the wind in her hair as she raced through the streets on her skates, a can of spray paint in her hand. It was the only way to work out all of the anger and frustration she had accumulated over the years since her mother died.

Coming back to the present, her father had downed the entire bottle and proceeded to smash it in half, holding one jagged end towards his daughter.

"STOP IT! Please…" she begged, gasping for air "You're frightening me…"

But he didn't stop. He lurched towards her with glazed eyes, the stench of alcohol heavy on his raspy breath. Aijou backed into the door, fumbling for the handle. Grabbing her skates, she ran out of the door, numb with fear.

And she kept on running.

"Come back here, you stupid little bitch!" she heard her father bark. But she had no intention of going back. Ever.

Stopping in front the derelict old train station, she put her skates on. She took her time – she knew she wasn't worth enough for her father to come after her. Getting up, she hugged herself a little. It was an unusually cold night in Rokkaku-dei-Heights.

Gliding through the station, afterthoughts started to set in. Where would she stay? What would she eat? No. She brushed the worries away – anything would have to be better than her previous home.

Ambling along, she really did feel the cold – her clothing wasn't exactly suitable for the weather. A short, pleated, tartan skirt hung about her waist, a white lacy petticoat lying underneath. A spiked metal belt was buckled loosely atop her skirt, the black leather shining in the dim light of the dying streetlamps. She wore a white top, torn at the neck and sleeves, and showing her midriff. This revealed two black swirls tattooed around her navel. Under her top she wore a long-sleeved fishnet vest, one sleeve being mesh and the other striped purple and black. Her hands were adorned by black, fingerless gloves, studs resting on the knuckles. A black and pink spiked dog-collar was fastened around her neck, as well as certain other necklaces, pendants and beads. Her unruly purple hair fell to just about below her hips, and was pulled back into messy bunches with two faded pink ribbons. She wore dated radio-headphones with two aerials, and a band going across the top of her head. Her socks didn't exactly match in with anything either – one was a fishnet suspender stocking, the other a thick woollen sock with black and purple stripes. Black knee-pads with decorative spikes were fastened around her legs.

Her skates were light purple with a motif resembling the twisted fret-board of a guitar painted in dark brown and silver. The wheels were hot pink, and two metal exhausts stuck out from the back.

Aijou looked up, finding herself next to the sewer. Skating a little way in, she curled up, shivering.

"I'll be alright…" she thought to herself "…nobody ever comes down here…"

Looking up at the filthy concrete ceiling, she finally managed to drift into an uneasy slumber.

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BAARGH! Sorry 'bout the long description peeps! It's just…there's so much to describe O.O If you're still baffled as to how Aijou looks, there's a picture of her on my DeviantART account (my username is Pyra-maniac)

R & R if you're feeling nice!