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There was another test. Shichi felt her hand twitch, holding the pencil tightly in her left hand. She was the only one who used her left hand, out of every child in the class. And their teacher had already remarked on it several times. A deviation. Unacceptable. If she didn't pass this test above average she'd be made an example of. She shifted in her chair, the feeling of the whip marks still somewhat fresh on her skin.

Her chair squeaked and as one the entire class turned to look at her, blank eyes betraying nothing. The teacher looked up from his desk and slowly stood up. Shichi straightened her back and laced her fingers in front of her. The instructor had the metal ruler in his hands. "Do you think it's acceptable to be a distraction in this class?" He asked.

"No, Daichi-sensei," she answered instantly.

"Hands out in front of you," he said. She did as she was told, reaching out and grabbing the desk. She tried not to flinch when he brought the ruler down onto her knuckles. "You will not make a sound." He smacked her again. "You will take your test." Again. "You will pass without any mistakes or there will be consequences." Again. He tucked the ruler behind his back, and stood by her.

Her knuckles were bleeding, but she picked up her pencil and focused on her test. It was difficult. All of their tests were. Her hands hurt but she knew that if she tried to sooth herself he'd hit her again. He was standing over her, looking towards the chalkboard, but she knew that he'd catch even the smallest of movements.

She finished last, making sure that she double checked every answer. He took her paper off her desk, and his eyes quickly flicking through her answers. He slowly looked down at her. "Acceptable," he said, before continuing forward, collecting the papers from the front of the room. He stood at the front. "Stand," he ordered them all. They all did, and bowed before he dismissed them to lunch.

One might have expected a room of ten children under twelve would have been loud. But it wasn't. The other classes that joined them were also silent as the grave. They all sat and waited until the superiors came around and handed them food pills, water, and rice. Eventually they'd be weened off the rice and survive of the food pills and water alone. It had all the nutrients that the body needed to live.

They all ate quietly with a practiced precision. Almost every bite taken at the same time.

"This is ridiculous!" Go shouted, slamming her hands down on the table, her blond hair falling out of her careful braid. There were already two superiors walking towards her in an unhurried pace. "You can't treat us like this! We're human beings!" She climbed up on the table. "Stand up! Do something! You absentminded nitwits!"

Oh, she was going to die. Shichi was sure of it. Go had been a problem for quite awhile but this would be the last straw. She screamed, when one of the superiors grabbed her by the arm. He pulled back his fist and punched her in the face, and she fell back into his arms. He threw her over his shoulder and carried her out of the room. No one had even paused in their eating.

She was bound, hands behind her back, kneeling on the ground of the training hall. The rest of the class stood around her. Daichi-sensei walked into the room. "One of you will need to prove yourself today," he said, slowly pulling out a sword, running his finger along the edge. He looked around the room. "Today, one of you will execute a traitor."

Go was crying. Shichi had never seen another human being cry before. It was kind of annoying. Go should have known what was going to happen. Deviation was unacceptable. So was disruption. Disloyalty, however, was a death sentence.

Daichi-sensei held the sword out to Shichi, who held it in her left hand, face twitching with the new weight. "You will kill her. Prove that you're worthy to continue in this training program. Or join her."

She didn't want to be dead. Not now, not when she hadn't become an exceptional tool. Not if it meant that her purpose for existing had all been a waste. She took the sword and walked towards Go. The blond girl looked up at her, pleading in her eyes. Shichi wondered why her throat was so dry. She raised the sword and brought it down as hard as she could, slicing deep into the girl's throat.

Shichi took a step back, watching the blood pool on the ground while the girl twitched, gasping for breath as she drowned in her own blood. It was soaking into Shichi's shoes. It smelled like coins. Disgusting.

She looked back at Daichi-sensei who nodded. "Good. Now dispose of the body," he ordered. "Training will resume in thirty minutes." He ordered the other children to file out, leaving Shichi alone with a mop and a body bag that had been left in the corner of the room.

When she was five, she was moved to the communal living space that was shared with the other children. There were no personal affects, no laughter, no conversation. They moved together, almost as if they were one mind. Or puppets.

They were effective, swift, and dangerous. Dachi-sensei said that Shichi and her classmates were the most promising students of their generation. They were also the most long lasting, having kept nine out of ten students, a record number. Most classes had at least four casualties. Maybe Go had saved many of the students, with her outburst, serving as an example of what disobedience would lead too.

By then, they had been switched to the food pills. No one really minded. The rice didn't taste like anything, and for those that had been raised since birth, there wasn't anything else to compare it too.

Their routine was the same every day. Five in the morning, wake up and clean off. Six o'clock be in the dinning hall. Seven to twelve, training. From twelve to four they had class. Then at five to six they would go back to the mess hall. Eight was lights out. Then they'd start it all over again in the morning.

It was on one of these mornings that Shichi sat awake thinking. She didn't usually do that. Thinking was for the superiors who went on missions. Thinking could lead to disloyalty. But she thought all the same. Wasn't there a quote about something like that, from when she had red hair?

She thought about her classmates, mostly. They were all strong, most of them stronger than her. She'd seen the other students from other classes pitted against each other, when two useless tools battled for the right to live. Everyone would gather to watch them fight to the death. Blood splattered all over the ground. Sometimes, the weaker children would break. Screaming and crying when they saw what's they'd done. Or, they'd beg for their lives from their opponents on their knees. Whenever a victor would hesitate, the superiors would execute them both. It was very apparent that there was no room for weakness within Root.

Was she weak? Daichi-sensei was a lot harder on her than he was on the others. He watched her every move, ready to pounce on and punish her for any mistake. She didn't make many anymore. Mostly on written tests, where she'd be beaten with the metal ruler, but otherwise she was a model student. The superb example of a girl well on her way to becoming a useful tool.