I used to say I wanna die before Im old (but because of you I might think twice)

Chapter 1: Okami

Eleven-year-old Okami Yukiko woke up to the usual slam of her heavy wooden bedroom door as her father, Mazoku Yukiko, strode into the room. His footfalls were heavier beneath his feet in his drunken state. Her chest tightened, heartbeat accelerating as he reached out a large, greasy hand and grabbed her by the collar of her shirt. She struggled to get out of his tight grasp, only making his hold tighter.

He dragged her down the basement steps by her dark hair for one of their usual training sessions. These typically consisted of her father trying to forcefully trigger her quirk to activate. Despite this, she would rarely let it happen. Okami hated using her quirk because it caused her to transform into a violent and unstable flaming lycanthrope. Once it was activated, controlling it became tiring and sometimes downright painful, so Okami tried to avoid using it as much as possible. Although that was kind of hard when it was easily triggered by fear (an emotion Okami knew far too well).

Mazoku dropped a squirming Okami on the floor of the back-left corner of the room and bound her hands to the wall in heavy iron shackles. It was more damp and musty than usual thanks to the recent rain, the stone floor cold against Okami's bare feet. Mazoku stomped over to his bench of supplies. It was a large wooden bench littered in scrap metal and trash. Torture weapons hung on the wall above. A large variety of knives and whips, a studded baseball bat and a rifle. Sweat built upon Okami's forehead as tears swelled up in her pleading hazel eyes. Her wolf-like ears were pricked, fearfully awaiting the sound of Mazoku's return.

By the time her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the basement, Okami noticed that it was more cluttered than usual. Cardboard boxes with tinfoil packages littered the floor in the opposite corner of the room while numerous empty cans and bottles covered the bench against the far wall. Okami's tail curled between her legs, her eyes wide with fear as Mazoku returned with his favourite whip. He trudged over to Okami, staring down at her menacingly.

Mazoku possessed a terrifying quirk called Senseless, the ability to rob anyone of any of their senses with his glare. Though, when he blinked, the effects would wear off.

"Alright, you brat. You know the drill. Activate that quirk of yours or else I'll have no choice but to force it out of you." Mazoku jeered. Okami's pupils constricted, teeth clenched as her heart rate increased tenfold. No matter how hard Mazoku tried, she wouldn't transform into the monster he wanted her to be. He smiled his menacing smile. "Aww, don't be that way. How else will you become my most powerful asset, hmm?" he growled, waiting for a moment. She didn't activate it.

His already thinning patience gave out. "So you want to do this the hard way then!" He raised the whip and brought it down onto Okami's shoulder. She let out a grunt of pain as blood began seeping out of the new wound. Mazoku brought the whip down again, this time much harder.

This continued for a few minutes, Okami's cries getting louder with each lash of the whip. "Why aren't you showing me that power of yours, I know what you can do," Mazoku said, still smiling his evil grin. "Maybe you just need a bit more of a push," He walked over to the bench again, this time, bringing back one of his many daggers.

"Please... stop..." Okami pleaded, blinking back tears. Her pleading only made Mazoku smile even more. It was a wide, psychopathic smile that made Okami's blood run cold. He leaned in, caressing her face with calloused fingers before bringing the knife in his other hand closer. He slashed multiple jagged cuts across her back. She winced and yelped but didn't give in. Not until Mazoku gave up hours later and went to bed, leaving Okami to curl up in a sore, exhausted heap on the stone basement floor. She would never give in. After all, Okami was more afraid of herself than she ever would be of him.

Okami awoke after a short fitful sleep to the painful throb of her bones, burns and bruises aching, infected cuts alight with searing agony. She groaned, sitting herself up as slowly as possible in her best attempt to avoid aggravating her wounds. Mazoku's mocking sneer flashed through her memory, and in a pain-fueled haze of burning rage, Okami decided to take matters into her own hands. She wasn't going to take Mazoku's torture an longer. Okami forced herself onto her feet and silently crept back to her bedroom where she got to work, thinking of a plan to escape that hell-hole. She considered all possible options, not missing any details, before finally settling on the plan most likely to succeed. By three am, she was ready to execute it.

Okami sat by the door against her broken bed frame, clutching the small tote bag containing her belongings. She mentally prepared herself, almost unable to believe her own intentions. After one final check that she had everything she needed, she stood. Okami pressed her ear against the door, listening for footsteps. Clear. She opened it, stepped out, and made a tip-toed run for the back door. She checked her surroundings once again, grip tightening around her tote bag in a white-knuckled vice. The back door creaked as she pulled it open. 'No no no no no'. Her ears perked at the sound of heavy footsteps approaching sluggishly but she was gone before he could catch up. Okami ran, as fast as she could, as far as she could until she was completely lost in a wretched smelling, desolate alleyway, somewhere in Musutafu.