***This is the first chapter of Ren's story. Some of the content is PG-13 and makes reference to illicit substances. Swearing has been left out. Two more chapters will come before the back-story is caught up with where Ren is now. If you would like to be a part of her story, feel free to contact Ren-Kanzaki in game. Enjoy!***
I was only thirteen when I first met him. Tall, handsome, obviously wealthy, he took an interest in me. We were at a dingy dive-bar on Planet Kyushu, and I had been nursing a soda-water with lime all evening. Now I was treated to something far nicer as this man, who introduced himself as Hideyo Takahashi, listened to my story with rapt attention, buying me several drinks as I did so. I prattled on about how my grandfather was terrible to me and my sister, how we were forced to live with him since my parents died, how I was dedicated to the idea of running away. He mostly just prompted me to keep talking, and when I secretively told him my age he laughed.
"You're joking, surely. You're at least seventeen."
"No, Sir. Just thirteen. But that doesn't mean I can't look out after myself. I'm strong, and smart," I insisted, putting on a defiant look. He just laughed and ruffled my hair. He was so friendly, and at the time I didn't notice the men who were keeping an eye on him, with ear-pieces in and guns beneath their jackets.
The next few months were very exciting for me. I had gone back in Hideyo's private limousine and was staying at an impressive mansion with him and several others, many girls as well ranging from my age to their early twenties. This was under the notion that "I needed a safe place to stay until I got over being angry at my grandfather and went home". I made few friends, for I was the new favorite. Hideyo bought me fancy dresses, diamonds, expensive perfume, jewelery, and other frivolous niceties. Every day I had personal attendants, hair-stylists, my own makeup artist. I ate the finest foods and was doted on at every occasion.
Then there were the drugs, of course. I didn't know much about any of them, but I knew that to accept whatever was given to me was to rebel against my grandfather's wishes, and I liked that. They also made me feel very, very good. The lifestyle was intoxicating, and I was completely swallowed up by it. Months turned to years, and while I didn't remain the newest, most favorite girl of Hideyo's, he generally kept me closer than the others. For a while.
I can barely even remember the details of my life, other than that they involved an awful lot of money, expensive things, men, a few women, danger, and far too many drugs to keep my mind intact. Things did begin to sour, however. It seemed to me as though I had gone to sleep young and happy and woken up twenty years old, in an abusive and neglectful psuedo-relationship with a gangster. Sure, he was a prominent figure within Samura, but his department was extortion, smuggling, bribery, and the occasional execution.
It was after a particularly nasty fight with Hideyo, for I had not prepared his sukiyaki to perfection, that I finally stood up to him. My face was still stinging from where he had hit me and an angry bruise was welling up under my eye. My eyes streamed with tears of anger and my skin flushed as I shouted, "You don't even deserve someone like me! I'm leaving, and your own men will help me! They don't respect you, and they love me!"
Hideyo just sat back in his chair, folded his hands, and surveyed me for several long seconds. Then he began to laugh. "You think you can just walk out of here? Come now, Ren. You are too soft, who will buy you the things you want? Who will treat you like a queen?"
"I don't need any of that rubbish!" I screamed, "I can live happily on my own without YOU around to treat me like an animal!"
"An animal?" he laughed louder now, mirthlessly. "But my dear, you are. And you belong to me, don't you see? Where will you get your precious cardamine? You know what you get like without it. You NEED me to survive. But go ahead, run away. Just like you did with your grandfather. Turn your back on those you owe everything."
I glared at him with every ounce of hate I possessed. "You know nothing about my grandfa-"
"Other than that he's now dead? Oh, did I forget to mention that? It's on the neural-net. Take a look. Oh, and when you get around to running away since you're so strong and independent, do try to remember who pays my men. They may love looking at you when you walk by, but they know what true loyalty is. Remember that if you think they'll help you."
I had thought for sure that Hideyo was bluffing about the true loyalty of his men. Later that night I had contacted Izanagi and invited him to my quarters. I had thought to play the sympathy angle- shed a few tears, bemoan my situation, flash him a little skin- you know, the things I'd learned worked with men. Or at least, Hideyo's thugs.
I was wrong.
I barely managed to get out of my quarters alive that night. Ironically, seeing me running through the halls of Hideyo's mansion with blood streaking my face and several bruises was not any cause for alarm. I'm not sure whether to praise or curse that fact, but either way that's how I made it to the hanger-bay uninterrupted. I knew Izanagi would wake up soon and the alarm would sound, and they'd be after me like faithful hounds. I hid myself behind an aging combat service freighter and spat on the names of the men I thought had any shred of decency. They're all in Hideyo's pocket, I seethed.
Suddenly a hand was over my mouth and I was yanked backwards and dragged up into the cargo hold of the CSV. By the time I had remembered I needed to be screaming, the doors were shut and I was lying on the floor as Kunio sat down in front of me, clasping his hands between his knees and giving me a serious look. Kunio was one of the quieter of Hideyo's men, rarely ever speaking and performing most tasks with an air of formality. I had always given him distance, though he had kind eyes I had seen other men cultivate such a look to deceive their prey.
"Is today the day that Kanzaki fulfills her deathwish?" he said incredulously, shaking his head at me, "Everyone is looking for you. They say you attacked Izanagi."
I clenched my jaw and refused to answer, glowering at him. "Well, we won't get very far at all if you have forgotten how to speak," he replied after some time, "they will surely find us soon. I do not know what it is you intend to do, but if it involves staying alive, I suggest you crawl your battered self into the cockpit of this thing and fly it out of here while I go tell Hideyo I did not find you, but sent out a CSV to search the area. Do so, direct the lights onto the property, but stray outside of range of his defense turrets. Then hit the afterburners and never look back."
I stared at him weakly, blood trickling down the side of my head. He gave me a nod and then got up and made for the cargo bay doors. "Wait.."
"You do not have much time, Ren."
"Why are you helping me?" was all that I could come up with. I was still in shock. Kunio gave me a crooked smile.
"Even a sleeping Dragon would hate to see something valuable be destroyed. Fly now, little wren." he replied, using a nickname I hadn't heard in years. Only my grandfather and sister had ever called me that.
There was no time to ponder the implications of Kunio's actions, or decipher what exactly his words had meant. My hands were shaking as I powered up the aging, rusty vehicle. The engines kicked to life and whined in protest, and with the horrible screech of metal against concrete I managed to direct the ship out into the night sky. I was not accustomed to flying.
I have no idea what became of Kunio on that night, but I did hear his voice on the comms before Hideyo's enraged screams came through. "Ren, you backstabbing #$%*&! Get back here! I own you! I OWN YOU!" his shouts echoed in my ears as I gunned the freighter into burn and shot off into the night.
The next couple of weeks were absolute hell. I managed to flee to Ainu where my sister lived, having taken up the banner of the Golden Chrysanthemums. While she managed to convince them to let me on-board the station, my time there was quite short. I had been in a bad state as my supply of cardamine ran out, the addiction was still strong and I had been using heavily. She gave me enough supplies to get me stable again, but the potential attention of one of Samura's top players was not something the GC needed at that time, so I was soon sent back out into space in my barely functioning service freighter.
The cargo bay was my home, the asteroids that shielded me from scans my neighbors. I binged on cardamine, and would run out and suffer terrible withdrawals until my sister could secret away some more for me. The cold-sweats, the terrible shaking, how bad it hurt without the drug - it felt as though my body was failing, aching to die until I had more. All of this was the haze of my life as days and nights blended together with no rising or setting sun to set a rhythm.
I eventually learned, with the help of my sister during her infrequent visits, to control my dosage. Steady, but smaller amounts, enough to keep me from entering the agony that was withdrawal, but not so much that I completely lost all semblance of self-control. Running low on borrowed supplies, fuel, and patience from my sister, I had managed enough control and self-discipline to regulate my intake and head off in search of a more permanent living situation.
I was miserable, but I was free.
After several days of aimlessly wandering Kusari space and the Taus, being rejected by any group I came across whenever I wasn't dodging lawful patrols and their piercing cargo scans, or Hideyo's goons, I found myself in Tau 23. I wasn't aware of the factions at work there, or the system's history.
I guided the aging freighter through the thick asteroid field until a station showed up on my scanner. Java.
Unsure of what to do, I was blessed with the good fortune of finding a friendly IMG pilot out on patrol. She directed me to land on Java and repair my radiation-eaten hull, and to clean myself up a bit. One hardly made for pleasant company after living in the cargo hold of a service freighter for so long.
The pilot introduced herself, as well as a friend of hers, to me with a level of kindness and acceptance I had not seen for many years. Temporary living arrangements were made for me aboard the station and I spent the next few weeks becoming fast friends with my generous hosts: the veteran IMG pilot and the fellow Kusari refugee, with whom I shared so many qualities.
This was perhaps one of the best periods of my life. I had my addiction relatively under control, though I kept it hidden from my new friends. Each day consisted of heading out into space, learning how to properly fly, performing minor tasks for Java in my freighter. I had found acceptance, and I had found a home.
A generous gift of credits to get me on my feet soon had me in the captain's chair of my very own transport vessel: a used, but functional Bretonian Percheron in relatively good condition. For several weeks my life consisted of flying cargo and supplies in and out of Java, and getting to know the locals. I still had my cardamine to contend with, but I had found a small measure of peace in the hostile sector known as Sirius, and for that I was immensely grateful.
It seemed, however, that my past was not something I could easily keep hidden. I'm not sure why it was so shocking to me that something like this could not be maintained, but the amount of panic that shot through me as the sleek and deadly Colonial Republic fighter intercepted my transport was palpable. I could feel my newly-found sanctuary crashing down around me as the pilot's voice came through my comms:
"Hold there, Freelancer. What's that you've got in your cargo hold?"
There are old pilots, and there are bold pilots, but there are no old, bold pilots.