250 years ago

I don't know what made me decide to stray from my usual path that day. Some care free whim, I suppose. I make my way around to front of the compound, hoping to discover the source of the curious noises inside. As I near the gate, I spot them.

Bandits.

They rummage through everything, leaving no rock or pebble unturned. I stand there, staring at the scene with mild interest.

I'll never understand the minds of petty criminals.

"Hey, you!"

It appears I've been noticed. I turn my gaze to the origin of the voice, leveling my eyes with theirs. The male takes a step back, flinching from my gaze.

I notice him the moment he steps from the building, several of his followers in tow. It's obvious that he's the leader, from the way the others flock around him, each mumbling about my presence. He glares openly at me, locking his cold stare with mine.

I feel chills run down my spine, radiating out through my fingertips. I'm afraid? Really?

A smile tugs slightly at the corner of my lips.

"What business do you have here?" he asks.

"I'm just a passerby," I reply.

He steps away from the crowd, moving closer to me. "Will you tell someone what you witnessed today?" His gaze is unwavering and emanating pure disdain.

Oh, how this one is interesting. He remains calm, even in the face of the Ice Queen?

I turn from the scene, shrugging my shoulders. "It's none of my concern, now is it?" I say.

I hear the sound of the wind before feeling the lively vines wrap around my neck. A tug violently rips the thorns across my body, tearing open the flesh of my stomach and chest. I jerk my head back, just in time to avoid letting it severe my jugular. The skin on my back slices open, drops of blood falling to the cold ground as I land on my back.

My blood flows like warm water from my body, staining the ground a brilliant crimson. The bandits walk by me, sneering and smirking at my tattered form. He is the last one to walk past, stopping to look down at my motionless form. He is glaring at me again, the disgust apparent on his face.

I can't help the smile that breaks out on my face. His eyes widen in shock at my facial expression.

"What is wrong with you?" he mumbles.

"I won't forget this, Fox," I call weakly. I black out before I can hear his response, only hearing the muffled sound of his footsteps as he walks away.

I'm in familiar arms when I regain consciousness again.

"It's okay, Kazumi. Just stay with me."

"Father," I whisper, my voice course and brassy. "What are you doing outside?" I ask.

You never leave the tower.

His arms tighten around me, legs moving even faster. "It's alright. Your mother will heal you. You can talk to me all you want then."

"What are you talking about?" I try to stay awake to hear his answer, but instead I once again fall into oblivion.

I'm in my bed when I next wake up, the upper half of my body covered in bandages. I lift a hand to the top of my head, scratching my head delicately.

"Damn," I mumble.

"Who did this?"

I turn to look at my father's fuming form.

"Who did this?" he repeats.

I stare at his shadowed form, feigning ignorance.

"I fell," I say.

His hand shoots backward, smashing into the wall behind him. Pieces of concrete and mortor fall to the ground.

"Why are you protecting him?" he shouts, hovering over me. The rage on his face is overshadowed by the pain and fear.

"Tell me," he whispers.

I reach up, placing my hand on the side of his face. "You look as if you've seen a thousand sunsets since I last laid my eyes on you. What ages you, Father? Surely not worry over me?"

He grips my hand, falling to his knees at my bed side.

"I thought I'd lost you," he cries.

I sign, placing a hand on his forehead reassuringly. "Please, Father. You should know better than to think something like this would be enough to take my life. I am your daughter for a reason."

"Let me find him," he pleads. "Let me make him pay for what he's done."

I smile, bending over despite the pain to lay my head on his. "I can't allow that, Father."

"Why?" he questions.

"He's caught my interest," I reply.

A/N: High school: officially over!

And in celebration I've started this story. This is my first time working with a story that will hop through time frames. Let me know if you think I'm doing a good job.

Bon vacances,

Ary