The Crescent Blood Moon

Chapter One: My What?

April 8th, 2130. A modern society full of destruction, and my parents still selfishly decided to bring me into it. As if any of it was my problem.

I spent the first few years of my life on lavished land with butlers, maids, and even a personal chef who would cook me anything I wanted. They were commanded to dress me and even did the smallest tasks, like brushing my teeth. The detailed pampering forced me to depend on them completely, and I had no expectations to achieve anything. I was useless, a forgotten porcelain doll on the top shelf, growing dust with every passing second. My house was nothing short of "extravagant." On acres and acres of land, my maze of a house was located on the outermost parts of Musutafu, gated off from the public. My father ensured he had plenty of room to flaunt his wealth with the tens of automobiles he owned, though I never really knew why. No one was ever allowed in, so what was the point?

My oh-so-great Father, Kenji, was a member of the Takahashi line, known for being strong holders of extraordinary quirks. But he came out wrong and ended up quirkless. How shameful, right? Long story short, my grandparents, whom I never knew, threw him out the moment he turned 18, called him a disappointment, and left him on the street. "Brutal," right?

My father transformed this absence of "honor" into power and motivation, becoming one of Japan's most accomplished business proprietors. I never really understood how he was able to do so. He never spoke to me, always in his office or at his massive building in the city I was never allowed into. Hell, I didn't know what he truly looked like till my day came. I had relied on the maids, who gossiped about our family behind his back. Sometimes, I'd hear through the chef if I was lucky. But of course, they didn't know I was always listening. The only times I ever saw my father was along the vast halls lined by burgundy velvet walls and sage wool carpeting. Paintings and photographs were taken of him and his many successes. One photo displayed him shaking hands with the prime minister in front of his most famous model. My father's hair was the same color as mine, a fine dark shade of black. A mole right under his left eye, which he passed onto me. He stood in a sharp business suit with the big "H" plastered all over the sleeves. Hashi Corp., my father's entire world, was his stupid automobile company. I would walk down the halls, looking at the gallery alone in silence; what else could I do as a toddler with nothing to do in the castle-like house I lived in? I never went to school, I always had the maids teach me how to read and write. My mother, on the other hand, opposed me of learning anything. Said it was... unladylike.

She hated me from the start. From the moment I was pushed out between her legs, she never wanted anything to do with me. "You ruined me Mai." I remember she said these words as I sat on the porch in expensive, uncomfortable clothes. Her once vibrant golden locks have now faded. Her eyes, reflected my own. She had a mole under her lips on the right side of her face, which she passed on to me. I wore pearl earrings every day, every night, which matched the ones she owned. Though we shared all these characteristics, I'd never want to be like my mother. Her cigarettes left itches down my throat, and my eyes would become watery in their presence. But I'd say nothing. "It's a shame you didn't come out as a boy. Perhaps then, you might have had an opportunity to earn the rightful recognition you deserve in this world." She chuckled as she took another huff of her tobacco. For the longest time, I believed my mother was plagued by an illness, unknowingly driving her to behave in ways she didn't intend. Little did I know she was just always hungover. The once popular and beloved Akane was now gone. Spoiled by my father, my mother let herself go after giving birth to me. I couldn't really blame her though. She knew she had nothing to offer the world but beauty, and I took that away. 

My entire life rearranged itself once I hit six. Again, my smidge of hope was diminished after I saw my mother once again completely passed out on the leather couch. Taking a deep breath, I scolded myself. How could I have even hoped for her to remember? I decided to spend my birthday where I normally do. I picked myself up and headed towards the grand teakwood door, sneaking past each maid and every butler. I was an innocent little girl who just wanted to play outside, no?