How this had happened, Kukichi had no clue at all. She was four years old, throwing one of her tantrums as she often saw herself fit to do. Of course, she had no recollection of the event except for in disturbed and morbid dreams where they were awakened. "Quit screaming at me, Aya!" The trill of her voice vibrated at a high pitch as she glowered at her mother, choosing to call the woman by her first name. Her words were still somewhat unclear at such a young age, and her chest racking sobs didn't help matters with the intelligible spats.

"Don't you address me like that, you spoiled little monster. I swear they mixed my biological child up with you, I could never give birth to something so disgusting and hideous." The elder woman bore no resemblance to the child, a scowl distorting her features into complete monstrosity. "For them to exchange my beautiful girl with you!"

"Shut up! Just shut up!" The child screeched, she was sick of being ostracized. Regardless of whether or not she really was four, she was still old enough to be able to comprehend what was going on. She didn't want to listen to this woman anymore and that was clear. "You're pathetic!" Pools of red slitted in a predatory manner, homicidal tendencies rising to the surface as a single vector swiped forward. The woman couldn't see them, she knew that. And she would have loved to shut her up, but she was tired of the abuse the woman provided.

"Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall," the child spoke softly with a slight lilt to her words. The death would be slow, painful even. The invisible arms vibrated at microscopic frequencies, severing through skin and bone with great ease. The limbs began to snap with a sickening echo, tearing off and dismantling from the elder woman's body. Screams emanated from the dismembered female. Another vector shot forward, snaking towards her leg and detaching it from the victim. Aya squirmed, attempted to hop away only to be caught by the leg with another invisible arm. The limb was yanked free of its joints and sawed off. "Humpty Dumpty had a great fall," she exclaimed with child-like enthusiasm.

Kuchiki's mother gasped for breaths of air, her breathing ragged and strained. "I'm sorry -" She was cut off of her speech with her last arm severed off quickly and surely.

"All the king's horses and all the king's men," the child sang as she moved forward, "Couldn't put Humpty back together again." The four year old sneered at the other woman, ignoring the insults that she was a monster. Not worthy of the life she had been given, Aya had continued. Another swish of a vector and the elder's head toppled off and onto the ground with a crack of bone as it popped right on off.

Kuchiki was naive and oblivious to what had been going on, but at least it could be said that at nine years old she thristed for reading and writing. Sir Wyatt had taught her the fundamentals and she began picking up books, increasing her reading level and intelligence which altered her maturity even though her kind didn't gain such things so quickly. She was a Silpelit and being so implied that she would mature at half the rate of a human. However, Kuchiki thought nothing of it. Her ears and hair, she decided that those made her special. No one had told her different and she wasn't allowed outside which she was ignorant of. She was more interested in the stories she read, the work she did for Sir Wyatt.

The female was ignorant though, the words in the stories served as entertainment for her and receiving little interaction with others began to have an impact on her. She didn't learn values or morals from her reading and it didn't help that Sir Wyatt had never bothered to teach her such. She knew that when she did something he disliked that she was reprimanded for it and that was all. The thing that captivated her most with the stories were the visions of death that seeped into her imagination, the massacres that scarred her dreams while she slept. They weren't nightmares, they entertained her and she was sour when she was awakened. Sure, she could envision multiple ways of luring people and then ending their life. The images were more vivid and realistic while she was sleeping though.

She had thought of making the dreams a reality, but Sir Wyatt was kind enough so she let it slip away. She was obedient enough with him, he cared for her and she thought he loved her. Had convinced herself that he felt for her. As though to prove this he had told her she was invited to join him at the table for dinner. He was always having guests over, but she ate her meals separately from him and the others. She was flooded with both elation and nervous emotions intermingled with the already ecstatic feelings.

She began to fret, shuffling through her clothing for her best dress and then began to go about the motions of getting ready. She ran to the river, scooped water into her wash basin and scurried back. The water was splashed on her body and she combed some through her hair with her fingers. Just enough to freshen up. The dress was tight at the upper torso, constricting her so that she could scarcely breathe. The wardrobe piece was a cerulean shade and she even went through the trouble of tying bows around two separate braids, matching the tone of her dress as closely as possible.

Two of the mugs were pushed into the crook of her arm after she had one resting between her elbow and her side as well as one in the hand belonging to said arm. She imitated the hold she had so that she could carry each drink out to Sir Wyatt and his four compatriots. She stopped behind the wall as she neared the table. She could tell they were talking about her, knew it instantly.

"You weren't lying when you said she was a monster," one of the men grumbled. He was the large man, the one who reminded her of a chef from what she had read. A large portly build yet had neatly trimmed facial hair.

"I was thinking of raising her to think I'm the greatest man who has ever walked and then selling off some kind of ticket for others to come and see her. No one would believe it, you know?" That was Sir Wyatt. Her dear friend who was supposed to care about her. Tears threatened the nine year old's eyes. Not from being upset because she was furious beyond belief.

How could they even talk like her about that when she was only in the room? Foolish, ignorant men. She snorted at the very thought and one of the men rose to his feet. "She's eavesdropping, the little brat. You need to teach her a lesson, Wyatt." It was the portly man again, she decided.

She took the bait though, she wouldn't allow any compatriots to insult her. And Wyatt. Oh, she wasn't about to let him get away with it either. She moved out from behind the wall, convulsively gripping at the mug before hurtling it at the largest of the four men. A bunch of insults spiraled out of the groups lips and Wyatt was so enfuriated. She could see that much was evident. At the disgruntled and provoked response she chose to throw all four mugs at the men. Most of them hit the men's chests, splashing absinthe all over the men. The second one had managed to nail the portly man in the nose. He was her main target as him and Wyatt were the only ones she had hear speak.