Intense red eyes, silver blond hair falling to the base of a pale slender neck on top a body already standing five feet tall the image on the poster was known to everyone in the city—a rundown, shattered city where pure hope did not exist and bloody struggles for survival reigned supreme. A city where a mere glimpse told the history of its towering skyscrapers, cracked and broken with age and low-class maintenance that used to be symbols of a future. Now all that symbolized the future was cold desperation, hopeless, desolate—the very antithesis of a dream world.

This was the city I was born in, and lived my early years in with my aunt before the viciousness of living in desolation took her away on my third birthday. Everything good in my slightly pampered life disappeared that day, when my father, who I believed was dead up until then, took me away from my aunt's corpse promising me I would be safe—and I was foolish enough to believe him.

But enough with dwelling on memories, such fantasy cannot help in such a setting as my world, everything and everyone was born in viciousness, selfish in moral decay from the very beginning—something my pampered life failed to teach or warn me about—I ended up learning that lesson the hard way. My life had not been an easy one and now as I stared at the poster pinned to the wooden beam of an abandoned store front, I brushed my hand through my hair, colored black from a homemade dye, my eyes showing the pale blue of the contacts I wore—this was the disguise I chose for my escape, no one would expect that the female standing in front of the poster of captive 619, dressed in a white silk trench coat over grayish blue jeans and t-shirt, was the same female in the poster. The contrast between the images was too much—until now I'd never worn anything that wasn't black and easy to move around in, no one would expect such a change in my appearance, at least not until I traveled far enough away.

Yes, my escape was perfect, except for one thing.

"Are you sure she's around here?" A voice whispered around the outside corner of the building getting closer to the turn. "No one so far has seen captive 619 yet, we just tortured two people almost to death for information—no one's seen her."

"Yes, she's around here somewhere; our master sensed her aura in this neighborhood though he couldn't pinpoint the exact location—619 is decent at masking her aura, but being decent is not good enough to escape detection from out master." A second voice chuckled, responding to the first as they rounded the corner, walking down the sidewalk looking around for me.

Damn it, always, during each time I tried to escape, my aura gave me away—however these two bounty hunters didn't seem able to sense my aura themselves, I could use that to my advantage. Using a switchblade knife kept in my coats pocket, I slashed the skin of my abdomen, a surface would that bled heavily but posed little threat—however its appearance was that of a fatal, expertly applied wound, just like the type of wound I was famous for inflicting.

Putting the switchblade away, placing a hand over my wound I yelled, stepping out of the shadows, pretending to sway in pain. On cue the two bounty hunters rushed to my screams, finding me, oblivious to my true identity.

"What happened here?" One asked, his red violet hair sticking up all over the place, his brown eyes glancing around before intensely focusing on me.

"Someone attacked me." I stuttered, trembling as I clasped my wound tighter, blood staining my shirt and coat.

"Who was it?" The second bounty hunter demanded his pointed ears moving like a dog's trying to listen for any strange sounds.

"The poster…"I mumbled, smirking inwardly at how expertly my plan was working, as I pointed to the poster I had looked at just moments before. "Looked like that…." I finished, pretending to begin the descent into unconsciousness, however the violet haired bounty hunter shook me, demanding to know where my assaulter fled to. "Down the dark alley."

Hearing my response, both bounty hunters rushed to the alley, leaving me on the ground as another unlucky casualty. After five minutes, I stood up, grinning slightly, pleased with my effective act.

Then I pressed on, bandaging my wound with a black bandana, ripping it into strips so I could fit it around my thin abdomen, heading out of the city and to a mountain side temple. This was where I would achieve my escape, this temple held an artifact that would secure me my freedom not only from my captors but also from this vicious, cunning world. Stepping up to the shrine of the abandoned, ruined temple, I tore through all of the cabinets, searching until I found the magical trinket I sought.

A golden amulet, an hourglass symbol etched into it and sealed with a shiny crystalline substance that gave it a glowing look when the sunlight touched it. The mere value of the gold and crystal in itself could pay for even the poorest being a future undisturbed by anyone in this dreary world—but riches could not in itself guarantee my future freedom, only the power this item contained could grant me that.

"Heh, heh. There you are, about time you showed up—I was getting bored." A voice boomed from behind me, chucking in shallow amusement, cold and calculating. "Captive 619, yes I can see the likeness even with that disguise on you. You look more like your father with that black hair; you should've picked a different color."

"Leave me alone." I growled glaring at my pursuer, recognizing his silver blond hair and purple eyes with a yellow glint to them. "Kitsuine."

"I shall not, your father ordered you to be captured and brought back—he really doesn't appreciate you running away three days before the next tournament, you're the star of the event, don't forget." Kitsuine replied, grinning coldly at me, his eyes and voice betraying no warmth or compassion, the eyes of my nightmares.

How I hated those eyes, loathed them to the very core of my heart and soul, same as I loathed the whip, black as coal, that Kitsuine now held in his hand—oh, the memories those eyes and whip brought back, the nightmares they inspired. Fear burned in my heart as well as rage, oh how I could not wait until I was free from that whip and those stone cold eyes glaring at me sadistically.

"You seem scared, dear cousin; do I frighten you that badly? You could have escaped or attacked by now. Why, if you only showed the same viciousness outside the ring as inside it, you needn't worry about my retribution. But you don't even fight back, how come?" He grinned, this time his eyes betraying a sordid viciousness, glinting ever more sadistically than before.

However I remained silent, gripping the golden item tightly in my hand, flitting my eyes toward it any chance I could—if only I could figure out how to work it, then I would be free from Kitsuine. Finally I found a button on its side and pressed it without looking, however nothing happened, nothing at all.

"Hah! You think that trinket can help you? You don't even know how to work it." Kitsuine smirked glaring intently at me, enjoying my angry, frustrated and fearful expression. I had thought this would work, but nothing ever turned out to be as easy as I hoped, everything I ever hoped for always failed to come true, and I hated it.

"Damn it."

"Heh, what's this? Finally succumbing to the futility of your—what number are we on—hundredth plan of escape? Face it, cousin; you'll never be rid of me nor the tournament. It's your purpose to fight and the sooner you accept that the better it'll be." Kitsuine whispered, saying the last part detest-fully. "Resign yourself to your fate like I have to mine."

Resign to fate? He spoke as though he had the hardest fate to bear—as though my fate was merely a light punishment compared to his. How I hated him, his purple eyes, his silver blond hair, and that whip in his hands—I grew up under the sting of that whip learning that family meant nothing in this world—only power mattered; that whip drilled that lesson into me. Since I was five years old I endured that whip—it turned me vicious; its sting awoke within me a sleeping rage—and I learned to hate: my tormentor, my captors—everyone became the objects of my anger, I even hated myself for becoming what they wished. That's why I ran away, the beatings I incurred were nothing in view of the relief of being away from that self-loathing and hate for living plaguing me everyday in my dismal cell.

"Cousin?" Kitsuine's voice broke through my thoughts, a different tone to it than before—no longer cruel and arrogant. It took only a second to understand why—while lost in thought, in my hate, I had dug my nails into the skin of my upper arm until I bled, the fluid staining my clothes bright red. "Stop that. Don't…." Kitsuine stepped closer to me, lowering his whip as he studied my arm, appalled by my self-mutilation.

However, before Kitsuine could reach me I got out my switchblade knife and sliced at the skin of my abdomen—not to feign serious injury, but to make it.

"Don't! Stop! Yoku!" Kitsuine shouted rushing up to me, horror and fear in his voice, dropping the whip, and calling me by my real name. Blood gushed from my wounds, falling to the ground and forming a puddle by the time Kitsuine grabbed me, pulling the knife away. "Yoku, no…." Kitsuine gasped, and then gasped again as the amulet in my hand glowed brightly, blinding both of us with its strange light.

'I just want to be away from here, anywhere.' I thought collapsing to the ground, bathed in the strange glow of the amulet, drowned out by the blackness of death.

Hiei's POV:

Slowly the mix-breed regained consciousness, her black hair's color fading where water from the cloth on her forehead touched it—it must have been artificially colored, like humans do. The mix-breed's clothes were drenched in her own blood, and I suppose if Genkai hadn't found and healed her she would've died, but Genkai had found her, right outside the temple after the strange golden glow vanished.

"Wha…where…?" The mix-breed muttered, becoming increasingly aware of her surroundings, and by the look on her face, equally confused.

"You're at my temple." Genkai replied staring at her curiously. "How you got here, I cannot say, but you're healed now and…." Genkai fell silent at the mix-breed's curse, the girl obviously didn't wish to be healed—odd, but I didn't say anything and just continued to watch her.

After a few moments the mix-breed wearily looked around at her surroundings, curious but tense at though she expected the worst. When she caught me in her sight, her tense but blank expression changed to one of deepest loathing and fear—as though she'd love to rip me to pieces but hadn't the courage to.

Odd, why would someone I never saw before look at me with such loathing and familiarity? After a moment the mix-breed's expression changed, she looked at me curiously as though she was dissecting my appearance bit by bit, becoming intrigued by what she saw. It unnerved me, to be studied like that; it angered me immensely—that someone with human blood would dare look at me in a judgmental way, comparing me to some ignorant standard.

"What are you looking at?" I seethed, the mix-breed flinching at the sound of my voice, the terror rising in her eyes again. "Hn." I turned away, leaving through the temple's wooden door. Something about the mix-breed's fear of me unnerved me, I couldn't stand her looking as me like that, as though I'd hurt her. I didn't even know her, but she seemed to know me. Still curious about the mix-breed I stood right outside the temple door, close enough to hear what she told Genkai.

"Mind telling me your name? I'm Genkai."

"Huh? I…Yoku…." The mix-breed replied her voice soft but timid, as she asked for the date including the year, taking in a deep breath after Genkai told her.

"What…what is…?" Genkai asked, but was interrupted when Koenma arrived stepping through the door looking at me curiously.

"Master Genkai? Is Yusuke here, I need to speak with…who's your guest?" Koenma asked, noticing the mix-breed halfway through asking about the detective.

"Says her name's Yoku, I found her injured outside and healed her. So what do you want Yusuke for?"

"Well, it seems like someone opened a portal, through time, and I believe it should be investigated at once. However, I think that…" Koenma paused and a gaze into the room showed him grabbing something from the mix-breed's hand. "We found the culprit."

"That amulet…."

"Your name's Yoku?" Koenma asked the mix-breed who nodded. "This amulet is a powerful time portal—did you use it? And what time are you from?"

"I used it. But I don't know how, it just began glowing…."

"That can happen…so when are you from?"

"Three hundred years…from the future."