☆ 𝘱𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘵 | 𝘰𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘶 𝘥𝘢𝘻𝘢𝘪 ☆

𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

None of the photos used belong or are made by me and belong to their owners (Pinterest). This plotline will not completely match the original and all characters, other then mine which I add to the storyline, belong to Kafka Asagiri.

I'm not a writer, and I find using 'y/n' or 'reader' incomplete and corny so I gave the self insert a name and the photos I use are how I personally imagine her, but she's up for interpretation. I do take CONSTRUCTIVE critics but no haters :) 

☆꧁༒𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙊𝙣𝙚༒꧂☆

Mila Hitomi was cursed with the gift of blood. The art of controlling the pure liquid which controls humans as they know it. In a reality of 'gifted' beings she was one of them, one of the gifted with what they call abilities. "Ketsueki Hana". If a drop of blood reaches past the surface on any human including herself she could control it, morph it, shape it, manipulate it. She could solidify it into something denser then metal.  Mila was a normal child until her mothers passing when she was only five years of age, living in a flat in the dead centre of Kazan. Soon after her mothers passing, with no where to go, she moved in with her father in Tokyo. The Hitomi clan is what the family went by. 

Upon her arrival, she was informed of her new purpose: to serve. She was to be wed by thirteen and a mother by sixteen. Her father's words echoed like a curse from a fairy tale. She was taught that with her first bleeding, she would become a woman. The family ingrained in her mind that her sole identity was that of a woman from the moment she arrived.

"you shall obey"

"blood runs thicker then water"

"your mature for your age"

"don't let a curse slip your tongue"

"your future husband wont like that"

On her twelfth birthday, Mila's world was irrevocably altered. She stared at the walls, now a ghastly shade of crimson. The air was thick with the scent of a familiar yet foreign liquid—blood. It coated her, an oppressive shroud, but it was not her own. Just hours earlier, she had met Kai Doppo, the man she was to marry. Now, as if awakening from a blackout, she found his lifeless, tortured form before her. Her breath came in fits and starts, her eyes were dilated, devoid of colour. The cumulative weight of beatings, marriage rehearsals, training, lectures, and screams—all the abuse—crashed down upon her in a single, devastating moment. The door creaked,

"Mila..." A soft spoken voice tremored

As she turned, her gaze met that of a clan sister. In mere milliseconds, her sister fell to the ground, felled by a swift cut. Mila stepped over the still form and exited the crimson-stained room. All who were seen were dispatched within moments. It was as though she were possessed by a demon, thirsting for the flavour of bitter vengeance. No words went through her head until she woke, stood outside her fathers room. She looked behind her, seeing numerous bodies scattered over the floor, her cousins, aunties and uncles. Her blood. Mila did not bother to shed a tear for the monsters that had tormented her for these endless seven years. The twelve year old opened her fathers door, as he looked up to meet her gaze his eyes widened in utter fear. 

"M-Mila... what have you done?" He trembled as he reached for his waistband.

"Don't even try it," Mila whispered, almost inaudibly, as she saw him reach for his katana. She pointed a knife at him, a knife stained with the remains of several people, a knife she hadn't realized she had grabbed.