Mei tugged at the manacle with one hand. The chain between the metal binding on her ankle and the wall jangled for a moment before settling. It had become a ritual of sorts for Mei. She couldn't remember when it started. Only that she needed to briefly tug on the chain. A way for her to confirm that this wasn't a dream. The reality of her situation pressed down on the mind of the seven-year-old. Still, Mei was Raiden Ryoma's daughter through and through. Even at such a young age she did her best to remain cool and collected. Falling to pieces, crying, begging for mercy, these were actions that any other child would do. But not a Raiden. Mei would be strong because that's what her father expected of her. Mei had never once been spoiled. As a victim of a kidnapping she could not expect to be spoilt by her captors.

The people holding her had been smart enough to keep any tools or implements far from the young girls grasp. She had no way to pick the lock on the manacle nor keep an accurate track of time through marking her surroundings. All Mei could do was try to infer how long she had been held captive through the routine of her meals. Fortunately for her, the terrorists holding the daughter of ME's CEO hadn't factored just how intelligent she was, hadn't checked further into her academic records. Mei was confident they hadn't chosen to adjust the mealtimes at irregular intervals. Each day was the same monotony. Breakfast, toilet at what seemed to be noon, dinner and another toilet break. By Mei's reckoning she permitted use of the shower every roughly three days. Fresh clothes would be provided, some minor variation on a pleated skirt, shirt, undergarments and socks.

Going by the number of meals and their regular pattern Mei had been held captive for forty-two days. Each day Mei would keep herself active through mental exercises. Going over mathematical problems her teachers had given her. Trying to recall the kanji she had previously studied. All for the sake of not breaking. Mei had long since memorised every centimetre of the room that had become her world. It had to be underground, that much Mei was certain. There was no air-conditioning and yet it remained constantly cool. The taste of the air. Four concrete walls, no windows. A single reinforced steel door leading to the outside. Her only source of light was a single struggling light bulb set into the low ceiling. Mei was not permitted a bed. A plain futon lay in one corner of the room. Perched upon the bedding was Mei, the heavy manacle and chain connecting her to eye-bolt driven into the wall.

Mei hated the feeling of complete and utter powerlessness. She had no control whatsoever. The terrorists holding her could execute her in any moment. It would have been easy to dispose of her body. They would disappear into the shadows and with it the fate of Mei would be lost too. All she could do was sit on her bed and fight away the madness by going through her daily mental exercises.

Mei tugged at the manacle with one hand. The chain between the metal binding on her ankle and the wall jangled for a moment before settling. The anger bubbling up inside of Mei was gently cooled by her methodical training. Fingers clenched her skirt. Teeth clenched. A deep breath was drawn in. Holding it, Mei recalled her training in Itto-ryu. The exhalation was coupled with a release of the tension. She would centre herself. Find focus in each breath.

The clatter of a lock broke the monotony of Mei's day. Twice the heavy tumblers groaned and shook. Moments later the door swung inward on hinges in serious need of oiling. Two of the terrorists entered the room. Their conversation centred around their next course of action regarding the stalled negotiations. At first Mei's captors had been incredibly cautious about her presence. They treated all interactions with a gravity that only served to reinforce how dire the seven-year-old's situation was. But by now they had all but brushed aside her presence. It mattered little what Mei heard. From their perspective she was now a good to be traded once the price was high enough.

"Ryoma isn't budging," one of two griped. "He doesn't seem to value her very much."

"More that he understands just how valuable ME's research is," the woman with him pointed out.

"We've had her for how long now. And he still hasn't moved past his original demands."

"We haven't either."

"It's his fucking daughter. You'd think he cared more."

The bleak conversation continued in the background. Mei had her suspicions why. Every few days the pair would come into her room. A conversation on what had transpired outside her room. But never to her. The pair were very careful not to address her when discussing the latest updates.

It was a pattern that Mei had come to predict. The terrorists knew they could simply torture the girl until she broke. A few days and she would be a shattered wreck. But doing that would reduce her value. Raiden Ryoma, the all-powerful CEO of ME Corp, would have less need to save an already broken daughter. But the hope that she might survive the ordeal, that would give him the motivation to fight on, to try negotiate a deal for his daughter's release.

So why repeat the same exercise time and time again? Simple. To have Mei break before her father. If the terrorists tortured her, then Ryoma was operating according to their schedule. He was admitting they had the power in their negotiations. But if Mei broke psychologically, well then that was something entirely different. Now both sides were operating according to the unpredictable schedule of a seven-year-old girl. A girl who was slowly going mad under the stress and fear of her seemingly unending captivity. Both sides had a good reason to hasten.

It was left to Mei swallow her anger, her outrage, every negative feeling. She had to be demure. Getting angry at her situation would do nothing. Becoming despondent would do nothing. Showing her real self would do nothing. Mei could not afford to be selfish. She would be cool, calm and composed. Someone that posed no threat. Mei fixed the smile on her face, let her face slowly warp to match, let even her eyes swallow the lie. Mei would be gentle. She would keep everything she really felt bottled inside. Her anger at the situation. Her fear. Her frustration. Everything bright and assertive would melt beneath the surface. The bright, earnest nature of a seven-year-old was a liability. She would be an adult.

The terrorists looked to Mei.

"Just how much do you think you are worth?" the woman asked the girl.

"I'm certain my father will meet your demands. He values me as a daughter and heir to his business. My loss would cost him far too much."

"Confident little brat, aren't you?" the man pointed out.

"I apologise sir, that was certainly not my intent. I merely wished to point out that I am something of value to my father. Something ME Corp should not needlessly loose."

The man crouched down, grabbing Mei by her chin and looking her squarely in the eye. The girl did her best not to flinch.

"Let's hope you're right. Keeping you much longer is a risk."

[You could bite his hand, you know]

Mei kept her composure. Her need to lash out faded beneath the surface of her thoughts. That part of herself she kept tucked in a corner. A part of herself hidden away. Being assertive would only get her killed.

I'm such a coward.