ript MT, cursive">Chapter One
Walking around a bloody battlefield was a girl with white hair her two daggers in her hands while a katana was strapped diagonally across her back. The Dragonfyrs' fighters had done well in the Great Gang Battle – as those later would call it. Her cold brown eyes narrowed as she scaned the scene for the person that she was left to kill... Alone. Stopping she saw her Second-in-Commanded trot up.
“Reporting in, Leader-sensei,” the man said stopping, speaking in their native tongue as he bowed his head slightly.
“Report then. And make it quick. For I am vexed I have not found my target,” the girl growled. Her eyes glittered dangerously. “Genshi!” she snapped when her Second didn't respond.
Genshi flinched back and said; “Sorry, Leader-sensei. One of our scouts has picked up our foe's leader heading towards the fringes of Tokyo. You might want to hurry.” He made a motion with his fingers and her black Yamaha YZF-R15 motorcycle came up with Sethera guiding it through the dead bodies.
A smile flashed upon her face. “Thank-you, Genshi,” she said before she was handed her black helmet with her gang's insignia on the back. Jamming it on her head she straddled the seat. The keys had already started the engine so all she had to do was rev the engine before she took off. As she sped off, she weaved through the dead and dying bodies. Soon, she reached the leader. Stopping her motorcycle, she kicked down its stand, jumped off and pulled off her helmet. Her brown eyes showed cold mercy. And she unsheathed both of her daggers.
“You. Hiroshima-kun,” she said, her tone very cold and very deadly. “You are hereby called a murderer and a disgrace to the country of Japan.” Walking up close to him, she stopped as he turned around. When he did, she lunged at him and one of her daggers sank through his heart. A gasp of pain left him and she smiled with pleasure. Twisting the dagger a full three-sixty degrees, she screwed up his heart functions before using the other dagger to behead him. His blood splashed up as specks of it marked her face and hair. But most of it was covering her hands and daggers.
The fight was now over. Hiroshima was now dead and Japan was free from his cruelty. Then, she noticed something flashing on the ground. The light was red and soon she could hear police sirens in the background. “Sh*t!” she swore. “The filthy b*st*rd signaled the police before I killed him!” Quickly cleaning off her daggers on his clothes, she sheathed them and ran to her bike. The siren wails were getting closer. “D*mn, d*mn, d*mn,” she growled as she kicked back the stand before zooming off as she revved her engine...
Then, the police were in front of her. Their bright lights illuminated her and her bike. Swearing, the girl slid to a stop, so she ended up sideways in the light of the cop cars' light. “What?!” she roared through her helmet. Her brown eyes flashed dangerously through her clear viser and a soft growl rose in her throat.
A police officer stepped out of the car closest to her. “Leader of the Dagonfyr Gang,” he shouted. “You are now under arrest for kiling Japan's Leader Ren Hirosh –“
“Your f*cking kidding me!” the Dragonfyr leader shouted impatiently, interrupting the cop. “I did Japan a favour by killing that belligerent b*st*rd! And this is how you repay me?”
The officer narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. Motioning with his hand to the other officers there, two of them strode forward with a perpose-filled spring in their step. “Mizuki-chan,” on of them said. She looked at the nametag that red 'Fuwa' and growled. “Your parents are very worried about you. And they wish that you should give yourself up to us.”
“Please, Mizuki-chan,” the other pleaded whos nametag read 'Mogami'.
The girl tsked and pulled off her helmet to spit at the officer's feet. “My parents couldn't care less, so naturually, you lie.” Her brown eyes were narrowed so much that they were only slits. Jamming her helmet back on her head, she revved her motorcycle's engine before speeding off in the opposite direction...
Two months later, the girl was walking home from the weekly gang meeting that took place in a large abandonded factory outside Yokohama. Suddenly, she was blindfolded by an unknown person and a rag that smelled of chloroform. Instantly, her body began to calm down and she fainted against the person's chest. As her hearing faded, she heard the person put handcuffs around her wrists once they were behind her back.
She was put in the back of a police car and buckled in while she managed to sit vertically. The officer got back in the dirver's side and took off down the road with a smile across his face. He managed to catch the leader of the Dragonfyr gang without being killed. Satisfaction rolled through his systems and he picked up speed.
A hours later, she woke up to find herself tied to a metal chair. The bands wrapped around her wrists, ankles, and under her bust. Her chocolate brown eyes harded into a glare as she struggled against her bonds. “What the f*ck!” she exclaimed in a growl. Her struggling continued until two officers walked in. Her glare turned to them and caused them to flinch back. “Fuwa and Mogami,” she snarled, remembering their faces... and names.
Fuwa did not seem to notice what she had said. “Are you Mizuki Naraku, leader of the Dragonfyr?” he asked coldly.
Mizuki nodded with her eyes still set in a glare. “My gang will come for me,” she warned. “Then. You'll be dead.”
Again, Fuwa took no notice that she had spoken. “Why did you kill Ren Hiroshima?”
Her eyes flashed. “He was a belligerent b*st*rd who only cared for himself. Not the country as a whole,” she stated simply.
Fuwa nodded. But said no more. Mogami spoke up; “Do you know why you are under our control?” Her voice was soft. It was like they were acting out the roles of the 'good cop' and the 'bad cop.'
Muzuki shrugged. “Like h*ll. Why should I care?” she scoffed. She didn't really care and she didn't listen to what they had to say about the matter either.
But she did hear; “You will be in our Juvenile Hall until you turn eighteen. Then you will be in the maximum security prison somewhere in the heart of Japan.” Her eyes widened before narrowing. And her lips curled up into a menecing snarl, but she said nothing. Then, two guards walked in and took her from the room.
When Mizuki was seventeen years old – about a year later – she was sitting in a lounge area with her feet up on a low coffee table as she leaned back on the couch she was sitting on. Her head was back on the headrest and her arms were spread out. She looked like she was sleeping. But she wasn't. Her mind was busy working on an escape plan. A plan that she had been working on for a year now.
Another teen came up to her and asked her a stupid question. A punch in the gut was the teen's answer as he stumbled off to join his fellow 'buds'. Her brown eyes watched the group of three with oppressed hatred that flooded her system. “Can I help you, idiots?” she asked nonchalantly. And it was also very taunting.
One of the boys tsked at her before stalking over with a look of full disgust on his face. “What gives you – a girl – the right to talk to the leader of the Wolf gang?” he sneered.
Mizuki raised on eyebrow. “That cowardly gang?” she asked, mocking thoughtfullness. “Last time I heard that name is when that gang refused to help mine fight the Governement.” Then her eyes narrowed. “You are not fit to be a leader of any kind, scum.” Raising herself to her feet, she gained an air of authority over the boy as he shrank back.
“Your gang? The Dragonfyrs?” he asked, his voice slipping slightly. “I had no idea! Please accept my apologies!” He went to his knees and started to bow in repsect towards Mizuki.
She scoffed. “Fight me in a match. And I will accept your apology,” she said as she kicked his side with her boot. “A fist fight only.” A smile crossed her lips. It was a very evil smile.
The boy fell to his side before looking up at Mizuki. His eyes were wide with slight fear. “Of course, Naraku-sempai. When and where?”
Mizuki smiled. “Right here. Right now,” she said. She noticed the boy's frightened look. “Or are you too frightened?” The boy shook his head before climbing to his feet. Mizuki flashed a smile and stepped back into a fighting stance. The boy did the same. “Before we start. Remind me of your name again?”
“Akuma.”
Mizuki smiled before bolting forward, ninja-styled. Akuma smirked and went to punch Mizuki, but she dodged and ended up uppercutting. Her fist made contact with his chin. She lifted him off the ground a few inches and set him flying backwards with a quick spinning side kick to his gut. Mizuki tilted her head slightly with her brown eyes narrowed until her eyes just looked like slits. “You could've tried a bit harder, Akuma-kun,” she said, growling. “That was barely a fight at all.”
Akuma glared at Mizuki. “You move like d*mned ninja!” he shouted at her. Rising to his feet slowly, he rubbed the back of his head. Two guards came up.
“Is there a problem, Mizuki-chan, Akuma-kun?” one of them asked as he reached towards a billyclub.
“No problem, Guardsman,” Mizuki said nonchalantly as she walked back to her cell, waving one hand slightly. “Just that Akuma-kun cannot seemed to beat a girl in a fight. Shame too.” She could feel Akuma's cold glare searing through her back. A small smile of satisfaction cross her face.
Later that month, Mizuki heard a rumor going around Juvenile Hall that a group of five kids were hanging around the front of the building. Everyday for the past three months. Upon hearing this in the lounge area, her head snapped up from the book she was reading. Her brows furrowed in interest as she continued to listen to the rumor. She soon found out that it was her own gang members coming to rescue her. A smile crossed her lips before she stood up and walked to her cell.
“Something tells me it will happen tonight,” she said under her breath, not wanting to alert the guards of what the Dragonfyr fighters were planning.
And Mizuki was right. That night, she lay in her cell bed with her brown eyes watching the ceiling as she heard quick footfalls on the floors of the building. When it stopped just outside her cell, she rolled off her bed and met them at the door. “Now, you come,” she growled through the bars. She recognized one of them. Her Second; Genshi. “Why did you wait a year, Genshi-kun?”
Genshi flinched back. “We couldn't be certain that this was the one you were in here. But now we obviously know now that you are,” he said, smiling sheebishly.
Mizuki frowned. “Just get me out of here. And did you bring my weapons? I didn't have them on me when I got captured by that idiot cop.” Genshi nodded and p*censored*ed them through the bars at the top of the door. Along with a set of her clothes. Mizuki flashed a smile and went to go change out of the hideous light pink uniform they were supposed to wear.
She pulled off her combat boots – for she had been aloud to keep those on – and then the pants of the uniform. Pulling the top off, she stood in the middle of the cell with only her underwear and breast strap. Both were black. Pulling on the white under-kimono, she tied it around her figure before pulling on the red one she is known for wearing. Once that was on, she tied a silver ribbon tight around her stomach and let the ends stream down to touch the flood slightly. No ginormous bows, just two tight knots that held it in place. Slipping her hands into elbow-long gloves, she flexed her fingers and pulled them tight against her skin.
Mizuki pushed her feet into her combat boots and sheathed the two daggers in their hidden sheaths. Sliding the sheath of her katana through the double knot at her back and knocked at the door with her boot. “You can open the door now, Genshi-kun,” she growled.
Genshi nodded outside the door and picked the lock. It swung inward and Mizuki had to step back to avoid getting hit by the door. Stepping through the door frame, she nodded to her gang members before following them back down the halls. And to her freedom. Once outside the building, Mizuki saw her Yamaha and flashed a smile. Jamming her helmet onto her head, she zoomed off with the rest of her gang's fighters behind her on their own motorcycles.
A year later, when Mizuki turned eighteen, she called a meeting in her gang's HQ; an abandonded wearhouse just outside her hometown. She stood up on a highered ledge while she watched her own gang members chatter umongst themselves. Genshi trotted up next to her. Her second gave her a curious glance before announcing; “Dragonfyr! Our leader wishes to give us an announcment! It has been two years since her last one so listen up or you will end up dead in the gutters by days' end.”
The gang quieted down as Mizuki walked up beside Genshi. Her brown eyes were cold and showed no emotion. Staring down at her gang, she said; “My followers of Dragonfyr. I have bad news to tell you all.” Murmers of amazment grew from the crowd. “Silence! Listen to my words, my drakes! I have decided to disband this gang! I have already been arrested for the good of this gang. Heed my words; leave this life in your past. It will have no good in your present lives.” Shouts rose to her ears; some were calling her name. A growl rose from her throat. “And Mizuki Naraku is not my name anymore. I have changed it and I will not tell you for I am also moving to the United States of America. And if you have any objections to that, call my father. He's the one who decided on the move to protect me and the rest of my family. If you wish to form a new gang, please name it differently. For I hereby retire the name 'Dragonfyr' so it may not be used again.”
And with that, she left. Under a new name and moving to a town that should not know her real identity. Before, she wore the Dragonfyr insignia on her back with pride, but now she was full of regret for having it mar her back. Maybe she would have better luck in her next town. Her new town. Where nobody would know her...
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