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I would never forget that night. The night my life changed. For better or for worse I’m still unsure. I remember being laid out across the plush, black seat of my father's limousine, no older than fourteen. Only wearing half a shredded black tank top and jeans, what could be seen of my pale flesh was littered with cuts and bruises. With my long raven black bangs covering my closed eyes I supposed I almost looked peaceful considering I was bound, gagged, blindfolded and unmoving.

"Father, is this all really nessacary? There seems to be nothing wrong with him." the eldest son, my oldest brother Kain, asked.

Father's voice was cold. "That child is an abomination. We are going to dispose of it."

Kain's own expression must have been perhaps the saddest thing I'd imagined. I had been his friend, his half-brother, but I could understand how he wouldn't see it the same way.

"Do not feel sorry for that thing." Father commanded.

I had been lying there for hours, unmoving, afraid of him hitting me again, but I wanted to know where they were taking me.

So I stirred slightly, giving a soft groan. As soon as I did the car slammed to an abrupt halt, skidding around in a circle. The cars elder passengers lurched forward while I rolled onto the floor with a muffled yelp.

"What was that?" Kain asked.

We heard the driver give out a yell which was followed by a gunshot.

My father must have seen the shadows of people approaching.

The door to the cab swung open and all of us were pulled outside into the cold winter air.

From underneath the edge of the blindfold I could make out six pairs of feet, they'd thrown me to the ground.

One of them stepped forward and I could here my father trying to negotiate with them.

"You can have the boy, just let us go!" he exclaimed.

"Why do this to him?" came a male voice, that was strong yet soft. I shivered only when I felt hands gently stroking my hair, caressing my face.

"You don't know what he's done!" Father shouted. He gave a yelp and I thought they must have hit him.

"What could he have done that he has been treated so cruelly?" the man asked angrily.

"He killed his own mother!" my Father's voice exclaimed.

I could say nothing in my defense, but I knew he was lying.

The person stroking my hair stopped their ministrations and I felt their breath on my face.

"He's lying." said a young girl's voice; she sounded about my age, maybe younger.

"Pitiful, you don't even deserve for me to kill you. Take your child and leave." the man hissed.

Spinning car tires told me they had left, leaving me with these strangers in the freezing cold.

"They're gone, you're okay now." the girl assured, caressing my face almost lovingly.

"Yuki, give him your coat, the poor thing'll freeze to death in that." another female voice stated softly, she was older, maybe in her twenties.

Hearing the rustling of clothing it was safe to assume that the younger girl was Yuki. I felt warm fur around my shoulders and I let out a muffled sigh of relaxation at the warmth.

The gag was removed and I gasped to fill my lungs with air. A hand tugged on the silky blindfold and I pulled away from it.

"Stubborn little guy." the older woman mused. "Tell us then, little one, who are you."

With what little pride I could muster in my current state I did not lie to them. "Enma, Enma Kuran."

Some off the other people gasped or laughed.

The woman chuckled softly. "Enma? Doesn't seem very fitting."

"You don't know me." I whispered.

The stroking of my hair continued, I was almost positive it was the one the called Yuki.

"Yuki." the man said and she pulled the blindfold off in one fluid motion.

I clamped my eyes shut and lowered my head so my bangs would cover them.

"We won't hurt you, you know." the man chuckled.

I felt a strong hand grab a handful of my black hair and pull, hard. Letting out a yelp of surprise, I fell backwards into the snow and at the feet of whoever'd pulled. A murmur went through the small group of people and I wondered why. It wasn't until I realized I was gazing at a black, starless sky, that I knew my eyes were open.

I wasn't proud to say I thought someone'd hit me but I felt so sure of it.

The younger girl, Yuki helped me to my knees. She was pale, maybe paler than I was, her hair was pitch black and she looked older than me. She smiled softly, setting her coat back on my shoulders.

"They're purple." I heard her murmur to herself, looking directly into my eyes.

"Well, well, well, Ikari," said an older woman's voice to the man. "We have a reaper on our hands."