Review Responses

ninfan - Thanks for the review, and thanks for the compliments. I hope this next part is as good as the first.

Salamon2 - Awesome review. It's nice to get that much commentary. And as a matter of fact I was just talking to my friend before I posted this fic about how totally predictable it is, so I'm sorry about that. As for whether your prediction is correct, time will tell. Yeah, I know the idea isn't original, but I like writing them anyway. Maybe it's because there really isn't much story behind them.

Another's note: Yes, there are a few things in here that seems to conflict with the existing universe that clever readers will be able to spot, but that's just the way the cookie crumbles.

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Part 2 - Summer's Child

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Reader, as you must know, most stories about a boy, are often about a girl as well. This is about that girl, who suffered, not from neglect, but under the destructive dealings of men with wealth and power.

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Her name was Natsuko, and though her parents had many children, she was the only one who survived past the age of two. Even though her health was never splendid, the simple fact that she lived was a miracle, and she was the most precious thing her mother and father had.

Her father was a wealthy business man, part French, part Japanese, but raised in Tokyo all his life. It was on a rare visit to France that he happened to meet the beautiful dancer that would soon be her mother. He married her soon after he met her, and together, they decided to settle down in the country where they had met. Thus, Natsuko was born into the heart of the glittering, glamorous French elite.

She was the living embodiment of a porcelain doll, with alabaster skin, dainty features and a cascade of golden curls that fell to the middle of her back. Her eyes were almond shaped and blue, framed by long, dark lashes, making her quite an attractive youth. Like Hiroaki, she was a small, fragile thing, but unlike him, she'd always be small, her whole life.

Like all proper, well bred, girls her age, Natsuko possessed impeccable poise, manners and refinement. She went to a prestigious school and lived in a prestigious part of town amidst other prestigious people. By the time she was seven years old, she could speak three different languages, play the piano and the violin, pick out the main themes in several forms of literature and exhibit mastery in practical etiquette and polite conversation.

However, it was on this day, four years after Takehiro's fatal promise, that all of that changed.

It was four o'clock and Gerard, the chauffeur, had just brought her home from school in one of the family cars. She stepped through the massive front doors of the Takaishi manor and quietly put away her coat and shoes. Then she greeted Merlot, the youngest of the family German Shepherds, and her own personal playmate around the house. This was a fact that her parents were willing to ignore, as long as nobody got word that their daughter was uncivilized enough to play in the mud with a dog.

It was while she was busy scratching behind the dog's ears that the voices drifted over to her from the parlor. She recognized her mother and father's voices, but there was a third voice she'd never heard before. It was deep and grating, a funny pitch that caused the hairs on her arms and neck to stand on end. Apologetically, she stopped petting Merlot, and followed the voices. The eager dog followed her amiably, tail wagging enthusiastically.

She stopped outside the open parlor doors and flattened her body against a wall, to make sure nobody saw her yet. The position prevented her from seeing any of the proceedings happening within the room, but she could hear every word spoken by the three occupants crystal clear. Merlot seemed to understand her need for secrecy, and sat down noiselessly beside her, ears pointed toward the open doors like swiveling antenna.

The first thing that struck Natsuko as odd was that they were conversing in Japanese. She knew Japanese because her father was part Japanese but had never found any practical use for the language, because nobody spoke Japanese in France. However, it seemed that the unknown man with the grating voice was probably a native speaker, for his handle on the language was as perfect as her father's. Her mother, Arielle, who had never quite understood the language, wasn't saying much.

"I consider myself a reasonable and fair man Mr. Takaishi," The unknown man purred in a sugary-sweet voice that suggested he was quite the opposite, "I'm sure that this little matter can all be settled with some sort of agreement."

That voice made her feel as if an ice cube had been dropped down her back and those words only intensified this feeling of uneasy dread that was creeping up her spin. The dog beside her seemed to sense it too. Her coarse fur was beginning to stand on end, and she no longer looked relaxed. In fact, Merlot looked like she was ready to lunge into the room and attack the man. Natsuko had to lay a small hand on her back to keep her sitting.

"What do you want?" Her father's voice was tired and worn. He sounded like he was about to concede a war, miserable, and powerless to fight any longer.

"I understand that you have a daughter," At this, Natsuko stood up straighter and leaned in closer to the doorway. She would have forgot entirely about not being seen if Merlot hadn't made a small warning noise. She froze and listened with bated breath.

He continued, and her veins began to turn to ice with each word he spoke, "Natsuko, I believe. I also understand that she's quite pretty. I don't know if you are aware, but my son, Yurkio, is in the market for a bride. Perhaps a marriage between our two households can settle any financial disputes between us."

Natsuko didn't know what was more horrifying. The fact that this man she'd never met seemed to know about her, or the fact that he could possibly have any children of his own. And what he was suggesting . . . she didn't even want to entertain the thought. Her skin was becoming cold and prickly and her heart was suddenly beating a mile a minute. Her parents would never allow that. Would they?

She could feel Merlot's hot breath in her ear, wet and tickling. Normally it would have bothered her, but now it was the only comfort she had. Shaking slightly, she sank to her knees, put her arms around the dog, and buried her face in the soft fur of her neck. Merlot made a small whimpering noise, as if to ask what the matter was, but she did not object to the affection. If she pressed her ear closer, she could drown in the dog's steady heartbeat.

"Don't bring Natsuko into this," Her father's voice suddenly became very edgy and awake, "She is my only child. I won't sell her to you."

"And I wouldn't dream of asking for such a thing," The stranger's voice took on the tone of one attempting to explain something to a child, except it wasn't comforting at all, "But she may become a fatherless child if you don't come to your senses, Katou. Think what could happen then, and tell me this isn't for the best."

Natsuko clutched the dog tighter. She was young, but she was old enough to recognize a threat when she heard one. What would her father do now? What could she expect him to do? Surely there had to be laws against this kind of thing.

Merlot was growling low in her throat with all of her sharp teeth exposed. She didn't like the man's voice. Silently, the seven-year-old girl bared her own teeth in a similar gesture. She knew she was doing something that would have completelyappalled her parents, but the release was simply sublime. She was the picture of prim and proper, but sometimes, like now, she could feel something raw and primitive fighting its way into the forefront of her mind. Something that flared up without warning, making her resent every petticoat and hair ribbon that caged in her freedom.

"But she's only seven years old," Her mother pleaded in broken, heavily accented, Japanese, "Surely this can wait a few more years at least!"

"I'm an impatient man, Mrs. Takaishi," The man snarled, "When I invest in something I like to make sure it'll turn out properly, and the only way to make sure that your daughter will turn out properly is to have her live with us, in a more civilized manner than you . . . Parisfolk. Do we have a deal?"

"No," Her mother broke off into a frantic bout of French that was obviously aimed at her father, "Tell him Katou! Tell him we won't do it!"

"Arielle, why don't you go see if our daughter is home from school yet," Her father murmured quietly, as if embarrassed by his wife's outburst, "And bring her back in here."

Natsuko's eyes widened in alarm. Quickly, she got to her feet and straightened out her dress with trembling hands. Wisps of dog hair flew everywhere, floating easily through the air and attaching themselves to the first things they came in contact with. She'd developed coating of it from Merlot. Hurriedly, she tried to brush herself off, but she knew that she could never completely rid herself of the fur in time. That wasn't what concerned her most at that moment. Would she really have to go into that room and see the man with the frightening voice?

"Katou!?" Her mother's voice quivered on a protest, "Tell me you wont do this!"

"Do as I say!" The sudden venom in her father'swords was sharp and painful for both mother and daughter. The anguish in his voice was evident, but that didn't stop Natsuko from wincing. Her father never spoke to her mother that way.

She could hear her mother pushing her chair back and getting up. Soon the sound of her dutiful footsteps echoed through the open door, becoming steadily closer. Each click of those heels caused a reverberation that drove icicles through her body, making her lungs constrict and her breath waver with barely repressed sobs of anger and defiance. She wanted to run. If she ran fast and hard enough, they'd never catch her. They could never make her go into that room. They'd never force her to do anything.

Her feet refused to move, like in some terrifying nightmare with a monster closing in.

Her mother swept through the doors and caught sight of her instantly. She gasped in shock, and then she smiled in a way that was meant to be reassuring, but the grin didn't reach her haunted eyes. Her mother did not look at all like her usual stunning self today. Her springy blonde curls were beginning to loosen at there were new lines on her forehead and around her eyes. She also looked like she'd been crying. Natsuko refused to let herself do the same. They'd never see her cry. Not now. Not after what they'd done.

They both stared at each other for a moment as if they could hear the silent breaking of each other's hearts. Then, silently, her mother beckoned her forward and led her back into the room. Into the light that she was beginning to dread with every fiber of her being. Merlot was not allowed to come along.

Natsuko could scarcely breathe properly as her mother led her into the parlor. She kept her fists clenched tightly around the folds of her mother's dress and clung on for dear life, hiding herself from view as much as possible.

"Suko, my dear," Her father cooed in a voice laced with fake geniality, "Come out from behind your mother and say hello to Mr. Oikawa."

She never thought she would be so disgusted by her own father, but from that moment on, she began to hate him with a passion she didn't even know she was capable of. How could he treat this like some sort of customary pleasantry? How could he sit there and lie to her face? If he knew that she'd heard everything, what would he say?

Obediently she stepped out from behind her mother, and greeted the man in curt, emotionless French, "Bonjour Monsieur Oikawa."

Her father glared at her, but she pretended not to notice.

The man her eyes rested on was older than both of her parents, with a gaunt, line-covered face. He had stringy black hair that reached his shoulders and dark, sunken eyes. He smiled menacingly around the cigarette between his teeth and she found herself drawing back in revulsion. His teeth were stained and yellow, blackened with tar in some places and completely crooked. She'd always found smoking to be revolting, but this just topped the cake.

"My, my, she is lovely," The man murmured with eyes that glittered as if he were sizing up the value of a new piece of furniture, "Lovely enough to become a beautiful woman. Just like her mother."

Her eyes narrowed into cerulean slits. If only she were a wolf. If only it were permissible to leap at this man, teeth bared, and bite him. Merlot would bite him, and biting would save her a thousand words. Animals settled things much better than humans. There was none of this scheming and blackmailing and threatening that she so hated. And most of all, animals did not try and own each other. She was nobody's piece of furniture.

Her father stiffened in his chair, "Watch yourself Oikawa," he growled, "Forcing your son to marry my daughter will not make up for what you never had."

"Certainly not, Katou," The frightening false smile on his pallid face quickly turned into a sneer, "It will be more than poetic justice. She is French enough to be exotic, and Japanese enough to be a suitable wife, something you never considered when you choose yours. Oh, and I forgot the best part. She is the daughter of my hated rival, and you have no choice."

You have no choice.

The words echoed and shattered in Natsuko's head until they became a thousand tiny voices each whispering the same terrible phrase. It is a terrifying thing to be faced with a situation in which you have no choice, and the whole Takaishi family would indeed break under this terror. A mother and father had no choice but to live with the fact that they sold their only daughter to protect her. Their daughter, I'm sorry to say, never had a choice in her whole life.

And she vowed that one way or another that would change. Nobody could own a wolf.