My World's on Fire

[Phoenix Tempest]

[ooc | note: This is a little snippet I've been working on the past few days. It delves into Phoenix's past, taking place long before current events. It begins with her first appearance in Soul Society and will end with her acceptance into the Academy. If you would like to encounter her before she becomes a Shinigami, feel free to message me to work something out. ]


The light was blinding.

She couldn't remember who she was or where she was or how she had gotten there; it took a few minutes of harsh blinking and eyes watering before the world finally came back into focus.

The little girl was laying on a soft mat in the corner of a porch. It was quiet. She sat up, her head throbbing. She clamped a hand over her forehead, groaning and squinting her eyes shut. After a few minutes the nausea passed and she was able to get a look at her surroundings.


This place was very....dull. There were houses, and a cobblestone street, and people. It looked as though everything was old. Like an aged photograph, it all looked..just dull. Dull grass, dull sky. Like someone had taken all the color out of the world.

"Don't worry, child. The sickness will pass," said a soft, older woman's voice somewhere behind her. The girl turned around to find a middle-aged woman sitting crosslegged by her cot. The woman was average height and weight, with straight brown hair and a kind face.

The girl was quiet for a moment. "How old am I?" Her voice sounded strange to her own ears. Too high.

"Why, child, you are three years old, of course," said the woman.

Three...had she always been three? She couldn't remember.

"How did I get here?" she asked, looking around.

"Fire, I suppose. Your clothes were all but burned away. We will call you Phoenix I think, little girl. Rise from the ashes of your old life and start anew. I am your mother, little one, and my name is Miyoko. You have a father too, and he is Miyabi."

Miyoko spoke complete sense. A new life, sure. A new name, a new family. Her mother smiled, and reached for the little red-headed toddler. Phoenix felt safe, and curled up in her lap. Everything would be fine. She heard a door open and a man stepped outside. He smiled at her, but his eyes were dead. Everything about him seemed false somehow. Phoenix felt a chill down her spine.

"Mother, why are all the colors so empty?" she asked suddenly. The woman seemed surprised.

"What do you mean? It is so bright here I simply can't stand it sometimes. The sky is so blue, don't you think?" she said softly.

"Everything looks old."

"I simply don't know what you mean, child," Miyoko said.

[Phoenix Tempest]

[two years later]

Miyabi was yelling again. He always did now, he was always yelling at Mother. They would pretend like Phoenix couldn't hear them through the wall though. Frustrated, the girl left the house and went to go find somewhere to play.

Five other kids were her age; three were boys, two girls. Phoenix went to find the two girls first, and scrambled up onto the rooftops. It was her favorite way to travel across the small town: running across and jumping lightly to the next roof. She came to Leanna's roof, and sat on the edge, grabbing on to a tree limb and hanging from it by her hands and crossed ankles so she could tilt her head all the way back and look upside-down through Leanna's bedroom window, which was open.

Leanna was a skinny slip of a girl with short dirty-blonde hair and bright green eyes; Bre, dark curly brown hair and brown eyes.

"Jeez, don't you two do anything but have tea parties?" she teased. Leanna and Bre jumped. Lea scowled.

"Don't scare us like that!" she said, huffing. Phoenix just laughed.

"Besides, of course we do other things," Bre said.

"Like what?" Phoenix asked, letting go of the tree so she hung by her ankles, and put her hands on her hips.

"We play dress-up with Lea's mom's clothes," Bre said haughtily. Phoenix actually fell out of the tree laughing, clutching her sides.

"You two are such girls!" she managed to say, before another sort of laughter caught her attention.

The other three close to her age were all two years older than her, at seven. The boys - Torin, Marcus, and Loras - stood just within hearing range.

"Hey, Marcus," said Loras loudly, the shortest with a medium build and light-colored hair, "What's less graceful than a swan and uglier than a duck?" he said, snickering.

"I dunno, Loras," said the other boy, slightly taller and with black curly hair.

"A Phoenix!" Torin shouted. He was tall and skinny with blond hair. The three boys guffawed and elbowed each other.

Phoenix stood up, dusting herself off and her face contorted in rage. As she stood, she grabbed a handful of mud from near the base of the tree and started walking slowly toward the boys. Leanna and Bre watched from the window.

"At least a phoenix has FIRE!" she shouted, chucking the mud with surprisingly good aim to land right in Torin's perfect pretty-boy face. It didn't take them long to decide on revenge, and they gave chase. Phoenix darted away easily, moving like a weasel through the streets.

By the time she got home, she was covered in mud and bruises and cuts and scrapes, laughing with the boys despite it all. Wincing as she stepped up on her Mother's porch, Phoenix realized it was quiet in the house. She knew she would be in trouble for getting dirty again...and worse, for tracking mud inside. Sighing, the red-head kicked her shoes off at the door, marvelling for a split second that her feet were still spotless, and stepped inside.

Nothing. There was nobody in the main room. Quick and quiet, she darted across the house, grabbing clothes from her room and careening into the washroom before her Mother saw. The dirty clothes received a severe dousing that cleansed most of the brown, muddy mess out, but left only enough dirt to look like she'd taken a tumble (which, for her, was a bit unbelievable - Phoenix wasn't clumsy in the least).

It was on her way out of the bathroom that Phoenix noticed a color on the walls, one she did not remember seeing before. But she knew it now.

Red. Spots of it, lines of it, everywhere. So, so much brighter than anything she could ever remember. The girl was mesmerized by the color: Phoenix stared, unblinking, her mind making shapes out of it. In the back of her mind a fleeting thought passed: she ought to be terrified.

Why?

It was so pretty.

Movement in the corner of her eye made her turn her head. It was her Father. His eyes, so cold. There was red all over his hands.

"You killed Mother," she said plainly.

"Oh no," his voice was quiet, husky. "She won't die. She can't." He said it like a fact. Her spine tingled. What's dead can never die.

"Why?"

"She dared tell me what to do. She dared to say she would leave. I told her she couldn't...unless I said so." He was so calm it infuriated her.

"Where is Mother?" she demanded, frowning.

"She is away, just like she wanted," he smiled sickly. "And you are going too, just like her. In pieces."

The girl could not remember the screech of rage that rendered her voice silent for the next weeks, nor anything else - not even how she escaped.

The locals would talk of that fire for years to come. Nobody knew how it had started - they speculated a candle had been knocked over or a spark from a fire, but they never knew - only that the family of three was never seen again.

[Phoenix Tempest]

Phoenix found herself lost in the wilderness some time later, lying on her back with her lips dry and cracked. She felt groggy, her throat ached. The sun overhead burned into her eyes, but even it could not get the vivid image of the bloodstains out of her mind. She lay unmoving until the bright light had passed and the shadows were getting longer before she could finally summon the strength to sit up and look for water. Stumbling through the trees, she found a small stream and fell to her knees, cupping water in her hands and drinking deep. It was so cold it burned her throat numb. Voices floated to her on the wind; she stood, and followed them until she found herself on the outskirts of another village.

The red-head wandered through the streets, her eyes wide, her clothes in singed tatters, barefoot and dirty. It was much nicer-looking than her parents' village. But the colors were still weird. It was like...like color was a volume knob, and somebody had turned it down toward grey.

Like a mouse, Phoenix hid among the citizens, stealing what she needed and sleeping on rooftops.

Some days later, she happened to be sitting on a step, munching on a roll she'd knicked from a breadcart down the street. A grand palanquin was being carried through the streets, the curtains drawn up to show a stately gentleman. But once Phoenix noticed, her eyes were all for the young lady with him.

She was dressed in silk. Bright, cherry red silk. Mesmerized, the five-year-old was on her feet and walking toward the older girl like one possessed. The other girl looked down at her with disdain. The palanquin stopped moving. Phoenix didn't realize, but it was because she was in their way.

"Get out of the way."

She payed no heed to the man that had spoken to her, one of the four strong servants bearing the palanquin. She pressed on, her gaze fixed on the red.

"Get back! Cur! Jun, make her get away!" the noble girl screeched. The bearer pressed his knee into her chest and pushed her back, hard. She fell back into the dust, her eyes wide.

"See here, Akane, that was not called for. She did not mean any harm, did you see how small she was?" the man's voice said as the Palanquin moved on.

"Father, she was repulsive. Her clothes were so torn and dirty! And her hair, a ratty mess..."

She probably went on. Phoenix didn't hear.

[Phoenix Tempest]

[several days later]

There was a man following her. He was very familiar for some reason. She kept walking, glancing back every now and again. Why couldn't they just leave her in peace?

It was past dark. Finally she couldn't take it any more. Phoenix passed by an alleyway, a dead end where she knew there was a ledge she could reach, she used it all the time to reach the roof...

There was a long, broken board lying on the ground, one end broken off into a point. She grabbed it and scrambled onto the ledge, where she knew she was hidden from sight. It took only a few moments for the cloaked man to show up. She leapt on his back as he walked by, shouting hoarsely as she swung her weapon at him. Her shout was barely more than a whisper, a squeak, her voice still useless from the smoke and the flame.

And..he laughed at her.

This made her even more angry, and she kept swinging the board, smacking him as hard as she could until her rage had her so angry she was crying. With one hand he snatched the wood from her, broke it cleanly in two; with the other, he grabbed her by the back of her shirt and lifted her easily off his back, like a child would lift a rag doll.

"Cute, kid..but I'm not entertained. Fujikage-sama says you're to be brought to him, so you'll be brought, whether you like it or not."

He scooped her up, carrying her like an invalid. She kicked and struggled and beat her fists against the man's chest, but he ignored her. Through the network of streets, through an arched gateway, past terraced gardens, and into a grand house; Phoenix saw none of it. He dumped her on the floor.

"You wait here now. And don't touch anything! Fujikage-sama would be angry with you."

He left her alone in the dark room. Phoenix drew herself up against the wall, hugging her knees tight to her chest and resting her chin on her knee. Her eyes darted side-to-side, restlessly scanning the meeting room she was in. There was a rather nice business-type table with several chairs surrounding it, and bookshelves lined the far wall.

She heard voices approaching, talking quietly, and the red-head squeezed her eyes shut tight until she heard the door open and felt warmth and light on her face. She opened her eyes in time to see a heavyset woman in servant's clothes placing a glass globe over an oil lamp. There was a man standing beside her, a black fedora in his hands. He was middle-aged, with kind eyes. He was dressed modestly, but his clothes were of the sort of high quality of a noble family. The man sat at the table, studying her curiously.

"What is your name, child?" He seemed kind enough. Phoenix said nothing.

"Fujikage-sama, Jun had said she had seemed to have no voice..perhaps she is mute?" the woman said quietly. The man seemed disappointed, but nodded.

"Well then, little one, since we have no name for you, we will call you Moriko. And since I am adopting you to keep my Akane company, your name will be Fujikage Moriko. This is Naoki, she will care for you. Be good to her, and you will meet your new sister in the morning."

[Phoenix Tempest]

Akane was bigger than she was.

It was all very sensible, though: Akane was older than she was. And more proud, and more selfish, too. But what this meant for Moriko was that she was given all of Akane's old clothes that were now too small for Miss Princess. And this annoyed Moriko to no end..because all of Akane's things were pink with dainty flowers and pretty things on them.

She was sitting freshly washed and powdered in a dainty silk kimono, hand-dyed a bright pink with white orchids patterned all over it and a wide white obi trimmed in a dark rouge color. Naoki-san had done all manner of rude things to coax her red straw-hair into a complicated bun high on her head, with a neat twist that made the ends of her hair stick out the top like frozen flames. Akane had said it looked more like a blood peach had grown too much fuzz, scoffed, and stalked off. Even when stalking, the elegant noble girl retained the image of floating atop the world rather than walking on it. Nothing could touch her.

Except the mud Moriko had thrown at her, day before yesterday, and received a sound beating from Naoki for it. But it had been well worth it to see the girl's face turn pink, then red, then purple, and throw another tantrum.

At the moment, however, the fiery red-head was pouting just inside the house, gazing through the opened screen at the rain that was drenching the garden. It was fouling her mood because being restricted indoors meant that there were fewer places to hide from Akane.

Speaking of the devil, the older girl's voice just then reached little Moriko, calling out her name as she wandered the house. Quick as she could, she darted down the hall as Akane's voice drifted closer from the other end of the hall, around the corner. Moriko darted around, sliding into a niche behind a tapestry she had found. There was a funny door there with some weird sensor contraption inlaid into it, but she didn't care: what mattered was that the space between the wall mural and the door was just big enough to hide her completely.

She held her breath, hearing her sister (read: mortal enemy) coming up the hallway, and waited for her to pass her by before darting out of her hiding place and heading back the way she came, to slip into her room and slide the panel shut with a sigh. But no sooner had she closed in than it slammed open again, and Akane stood there, her face alight with glee.

"Come on, Moriko, I want to play dress-up," she said, reaching for the smaller girl's arm. Moriko turned her shoulder aside, so Akane's perfectly manicured fingertips merely grazed her kimono.

Shocked, Akane's green eyes widened momentarily, before wariness settled in. "You're mute! Father said so."

Moriko said nothing. A slow, cruel smile lit up her older sister's face. "You've been lying to us! Oh, Father will throw you out for sure!" She fairly danced out of the room, skipping gleefully down the hall toward her...their... father's study, calling out for him as she went.

A few moments later she was back, twirling and perky and beaming. "Father wishes to see you, Moriko-chan," she gushed with sickly-sweetness. With a sigh, Moriko reluctantly followed.

Fujikage-sama was seated at his desk, a pair of smart spectacles twirling between his fingers.

[tbc]