A/N: Heya again XD. Another one. Gah, my grammar errors. Forgive them, please. I'm just really happy I'm writing again! XD So…yeah… Enjoy!

Ghost

Chapter Five

Previously, my father had been my brothel owner. He was... a tyrant.

Yes, that's the correct term for him. Tyrant...

It had been him, my mother and me. No siblings. The girls were my sisters.

Mibu Jirou was a proud and stoic man. His face was always stern and set in an expression that made chills run down your spine. He was a cold son-of-a-bitch. It was no wonder that my mother left me all those years ago.

To a point, my father loved me. He, more or less, needed me. I was his only child, his heir to the ancient brothel of our ancestors.

He would walk these halls with such arrogance, looking down his nose at each and every person. Praying on every little troubling aspect of a person was his specialty. He knew just how to bring a person down, even me.

'Cut your hair, Oriya. Do you want to look like your worthless mother?'

'You would be nothing without me, Oriya. Never forget that.'

'Stupid son of mine! Stop skipping your classes!'

My father was notorious for abusing his power. He would bring anyone of his girls to bed whenever he wanted. Yes, he was a fantastic business man; he was also a terrible person.

Father had been always one to never be sympathetic to any of the girls, or to anyone as a matter of fact. Cruelty ran in his blood, after all.

I recall, once, he had forced a girl, a woman named Sayori, to sleep with a man who tried to rape her right in the dining room just hours before. He had beaten her then sent her to the man to be beaten in a different way. My father had been paid handsomely for her services.

Oh, she cried for hours.

Me, I was about six of seven, came into her room. Sayori wept so hard she didn't notice me. For a while, I watched her as she sat on her bed, legs pulled up to her chest and her face buried in her knees, black hair a mess around her head.

I moved to her and got up on the bed to embrace her middle while she was still half naked, ugly bruises rising to the surface of her perfect skin. All she was able to muster was a soft 'thank you' as her hand stroked my head.

For the longest time, as I was growing up, I swore I would protect these women. These woman were treated like common whores when they were under my fathers care. His geisha hated him but they loved me. They loved their future master.

Noone was immune to my father's wrath, not even me.

I was ten when, one night, I was approached by one of my fathers customers.

I had been in the kitchen getting food and I was heading to my room late one Saturday evening when he stumbled out of one of the rooms.

The man was stocky and walked with a limp so a cane helped him walk but being drunk tends to make everyone's balance go. His graying hair was a mess from probably a pillow. It was either his bum leg or he was just lazy and simply had his purchased lay ride him. He was an unappealing man, graying skin that hung slightly off his throat and face, gray stubble all over his face. His fat nose matched his face flabby face well. It did not take long for those dark, drunk eyes to spot me,

"Oh-Ho! Where were you tonight, young one?" The slurring drunk spoke to me and I looked around, thinking he may be talking to a girl I didn't notice. He wasn't.

At the time, I was in a kimono, simple and black, and my hair just happened to be a bit longer than the average boys was meant to be.

I made a move to get away and down to my room but he moved and blocked the hall to my room.

"Sir, guests are to stay in the main area of the building. Family quarters are off limits." I spoke to him and he smiled at me, moving with me.

"Cute little thing. A bit younger than I like…but you're a cutie." He spoke and he moved toward me.

I was…terrified. What was I to do? I was 85 pounds to his 270.

"C'mere…"He moved toward me and I moved all the way back to the wall.

What could I do? My mind raced. I have a tray of food, good china no less, no exit points and I was in a kimono. Things did not look good for me. Instinct soon took over and I threw the tray at him and ran to the left.

My actions must've really pissed him off since I felt a sharp blow hit my back and I came slamming to the floor.

A weight was soon on me and then I found myself my back. His fat, ring trapped fingers tugged at my kimono's front and I screamed. I fought against him as much as I could and I soon noticed it. I slammed my hand on a fallen bowl from my meal and brought it up and against the mans head. The drunk fell off me and onto the floor, out cold.

The noise of it all brought people to us. Three girls, at once, came and hugged me, cradling me close and asking me what had happened and if I was hurt.

It wasn't long before Father showed up.

"Oriya!" His voice barked at me and I looked up from my refugee in the embrace of Sayori, the woman who was second to being a mother to me, next to Mother-San.

"F-Father." I moved to stand and I opened my mouth to speak but a hand came and slapped me down to the floor again. Gasps came but soon it went quiet.

"You DARE to attack a CUSTOMER!?" Roared my father, loosing his cold composure and he grabbed me by the front of my kimono. Pulling me in and to him, he was able hit me a second time. "You will do no such thing ever again!" Father bellowed into my face before throwing me down.

My father…had terrified me. He struck me and yelled at me for doing nothing wrong!

No…to my father…I nearly cost him a customer.

I was informed by my father that Hisamaru-San 'thankfully didn't remember what happened' and that he 'still appreciates the business and its aspects'.

He…really pissed me off that day. He was more concerned at loosing the support of some Politician rather than having his only son being raped by said Politician.

He would always strike me with words and many times, they reduced me to tears. Sayori held me so many times because of him, I lost count. We found that we needed each other when he would turn his wrath on us.

But what really cemented my rage towards him was when he… made an example out of Sayori.

I must've been… fourteen or fifteen at the time. I had come home from the kendo dojo to find a crowd of girls at the mouth leading into the dining area, all in a shocked hush. Screams, moans and pants were just beyond them. I moved near one girl and she instantly came down to my level, clapping a hand over my mouth.

"You should be a good boy and go upstairs." She whispered to me but her voice was soon lost to me as my fathers voice soon sounded.

"Noone is….going to…fucking.... disrespect me... again…Or so help me, this…will be! You!" Boomed out his voice in between pants and the slapping of flesh.

"Who…" I began but I heard a soft and distant 'no…' that made me stop. Sayori.

Something within me snapped. I couldn't take it anymore. My breath became short in my chest and I couldn't stop shaking. My hand found the hilt of my kendo sword and I soon found myself acting not like myself.

"Move aside." I ordered the girls, my own voice was foreign to me, deeper and set, a man's tone. The girls there did not argue but they all had a fearful look on their faces. They weren't sure what to do. They were given a direct order from the master son.

Why no one stopped me was beyond me but they let me rush into that dining room. They let me move up to the broad shouldered form on my father as had Sayori bent over on all fours. Everyone was silent when I let my hands raise and draw that wooden sword down on my father, striking him square in the back with so much force that it made me stumble slightly.

Father yelled out but I heard nothing, only saw his mouth open and he turned on me, moving at me. It was all slow motion for me, something within was just...loose. This impulse was not going to stop until it got what it wanted. I was able to watch his movement and I felt nothing except…

"Go away," came out of my mouth, my face set.

I wanted him to disappear.

I struck the side of his head and it forced him down to the floor.

Disappear!

It was strange. I findmyself remembering what I had down, but at the same time it was like watching another. I did not see a young boy but a judge. Passing my judgement on the accused and punishing the guilty. Though, what had I had thought was the best punishment...would have made me into a murderer who committed patricide.

I rose the wooden sword over my head and but someone caught my arms and pulled the sword from me. It was all a blur but I soon found myself buried in a familiar chest.

Sayori.

Sayori…had been subjected to just humiliation thanks to that man and she was protecting him?! I could've made him vanish forever and she… No… She was protecting me, stopping me from doing an unspeakable act. That is what a mother does for its child, after all, protecting it.

I never cried so hard in my life then on that day with Sayori.

I got such an ass beating for that day. Father had only a cut on his head and a sour back for a week but that didn't stop him from beating the shit out of me a day later for what I had done. He wanted me to know he was the bigger and better man. What a joke.

Only good thing about that day, he stopped calling me a weak and telling me I should cut my hair. He, in some way, respected me for standing up for Sayori and for opposing his will. Or maybe he was just afraid that the next time I snap that I may use a real sword.

Sayori's been dead since my junior year of high school. An asshole drunk killed her because he could. A seedy establishment would be shut down in a heartbeat. No, Kou Kaku Rou was not seedy, shady maybe, but it was high class place. Father and his 'connections' were able to cover it all up. I almost wish they hadn't. Father knew how I loved her. For the next three months, my father carried a stick or his sword around with him and eyed me hard, cold but scared eyes. He knew I blamed him for her death. And I did, thank you very much.

Regardless, Kou Kaku Rou is mine and has been mine since his death. Father died with leaving me with only a handshake and 'It's yours now, boy. Don't fuck up.'

Don't fuck up? How funny, having that come from him. Well, I've yet to 'fuck up'. Thanks a whole hell of a lot, Daddy, for that smashing advice. Now, kindly go fuck yourself in your next life.