Chapter One: Into the Arena

She sighed, her tiny body tired. She had three fights today, all of which she had won. Today was her ninth birthday and the arena's present to her was three fights, all against demon males. She had succeeded but not without injury. It also marked her fourth year in the arena. She had a few cuts on her arms and torso, but nothing else. Males were told to be careful and to avoid damaging female faces. There was always a reason as well. She wasn't really sure of why, but whenever a male had damaged a female's face, they were strapped to posts and whipped repeatedly until they either begged for mercy or fell unconscious, most of which were the latter. The females were taken away and treated. The face was more important than the body for females, especially if they had the potential to be beautiful in the future. She didn't know what they did, but the females were returned without a blemish on their faces.

"Good night, tousan," she whispered to a faded picture she had. It was the only thing she had left of her family. Her mother had died giving birth to her, and her father had died almost three years ago in a fight against a demon. She had been upset, but lived and fought every day to survive. She fought to honor her father, the only family she knew, and since he was gone she was alone.

She had remembered her first fight. Yes, her father trained her at every turn before she started, starting when she was four. He knew that soon she would be forced into the arena and she would need to know how to fight. He had been allowed to watch her first fight from the stands. She was nervous, but when she saw him, sitting there, watching her, she knew she had to win. She swallowed the nervous and scared feelings she had, and fought. She had dodged under punches and kicks. Her first fight was to a human male. It wasn't easy, it being her first fight but she managed to dodge most of his hits and delivered her own. She had knocked him unconscious and was declared the winner. She saw the smile on her father's face and knew he was proud of her. From there she continued to win to please her father. All she had lived for was to make him proud.

When he died, so did a part of her. She knew she had to win, she had to fight, and she had to win the approval of the crowd. In the end, it was them that decided. They decided who she fought, what her reward was, if she lived another day. In the end, they decided her fate. She didn't want to believe it, but she did. She was still here because she was a favorite with the crowd. She would have to continue to be a favorite of the crowd if she wanted to continue being alive.

She hissed as the medicinal water was poured down her arms and torso, an older girl seeing to her wounds because the medics only saw to facial damage to females and greater damage, like broken bones. It helped to pull her out of her thoughts. She needed to stop thinking sometimes. She already knew what she needed to do to survive. Nothing else should have mattered to her. Nothing. She had no friends here. Eventually she would have to fight them, and they would fight her. She couldn't allow such bonds to interfere with her fights. In the end, having friends was a weakness she did not want or need.

"Stop complaining. If they aren't treated they'll get infected and you'll develop a fever, heaven forbid. Then they'll have you fight like that anyways. You'd lose then, and you cannot tarnish your perfect record," the last was said with loathing. "Besides, every female has to impress the crowd. It's the only way to not have a bad future. I know I don't want that."

"What's that?" She asked.

"You don't know?" The girl was a few years older than her, maybe twelve. She had one more year fighting the younger kids and she was running out of time. "Well, females follow two paths in this arena. There are those that find a sponsor or sensei. They continue to train and fight. They have a chance to earn freedom. The other path is horrible. If you fail to find a sponsor or sensei by the age of fifteen, they can sell you to either a brothel house, or as a concubine to some man that will only treat you like crap until they need you to satisfy them. They have no chance at freedom or happiness. But at your rate, you'll find a sponsor or sensei in no time."

"I see." She looked down as the girl continued to bandage her arms and torso. She knew she would be healed by morning with little to no scarring. She wondered why but never gave time to this pondering topic. She was always, fight or die. She rather not die. Yes, death in the child's circuit was rare but possible. At thirteen she would be considered an adult and she would have to fight the other adults where death was more likely. "By what age do we have to find a sponsor?"

"Fifteen. But you shouldn't worry. The crowd loves you." She left her to her own devices.

She sighed and crawled into her rack. They had a room that was fifteen feet by fifteen feet. The racks were stacked three high and had a depth of three feet wide by five feet long. There were two of these racks against the wall by the door and three on the farthest wall. There were two rows in the middle that had the backs pushed together, both had two racks side by side. There was a foot and a half of room between the rows of racks and locked weapon lockers by the door. They were two high and stood three feet each. It was a standard locker you would find just about anywhere. At the foot of each rack was where they stacked the two sets of clean clothes they had and there regular shoes. Their armor was kept in the locker rooms where they changed and prepared. The males greatly out numbered the females. The males had three berthing areas in the same design where the females had one. Each berthing held twenty-seven people. Showers were few and limited in time. At most they were allowed to shower three times a week and for short periods of times. They had to use the bathroom in chamber pots, which were dumped three times a day, if they were lucky. This wasn't the life she wanted to live.

She was fighting a demon again this time. He was said to break a lot of undefeated fighters streak and she was told if she could manage to defeat him today, she would not fight tomorrow and have beef stew, instead of the regular vegetable soup the females were fed, on top of that, an extra portion of rice, so she would be able to sleep well tonight. She wanted to win so she could actually have a decent amount of time to sleep and a decent meal. She just wished she would be able to take a shower after all her fights were done.

She was called forth to the ring, where her opponent stood. He was taller than her, and thin. He had shaggy black hair and piercing crimson eyes. Claws were on both hands and he wore no shoes. He had a black cat tail trailing out behind him and twin daggers in hand. She was armed with a single sword and was dressed in leather leggings and a leather shirt. It didn't fit right, but most of the armor was handed down anyways. Her hair was in a messy bun and her eyes looked at her opponent. She knew he was going to be fast, just by the look of him. She would have to be on her guard from now on. She would have to be able to move at a seconds notice.

He dashed forward, not nearly as fast as a grown up of his species, but still faster than a human her age. At the last second she rolled away and parried his follow up attack with her sword. There was a clang and she managed to roll to her feet before leaping sideways and away from his attack. He came at her again and she blocked. She pushed him off as best she could before making for an attack of her own. Yes, she was out strength by him, but he made one flaw. He made the first move. You could tell the type of fighter they were by the first move. Her father taught her that. She never once made the first move, which gave her opponents nothing to go off of. She knew he was fast but one leg was less powerful than the other. It would be hard to pick up, but then again her father told her to take everything in, and she always did.

Her attack was aimed at his right leg. He managed to dodge the mock attack but soon found his left leg collapsing. She had used the diversion to kick his left foot from beneath him. He used his hands to spring board up and dodge away from her next attack. He had underestimated her, and the power of her kick. He was slowed down now. He knew he was always weak in the left leg, but thought he covered it up well enough, so how did she see it? He didn't understand. She wasn't even a demon. He couldn't lose to the likes of her! His eyes narrowed and his demon pride was getting the better of him. He attacked again, only for her to dodge his slowed leaps forward. His arms were still fast and over powered, but without the right maneuvering he was nothing. She easily moved behind him every time he attacked and he had to quickly spin around in order to attack again. In the end he hadn't moved fast enough and the blunt side of the sword was swung against his head with enough force to knock him unconscious. She stood panting, sword out before her before being declared the winner. She stood straight and left the ring, sword in hand and her competitor on a gurney behind her. She would enjoy her well earned break tomorrow.

He had watched the fight between the human girl and the cat demon. He was actually surprised that she had picked up the weakness with her human eyes, and so quickly, and even with the demon enraged she was able to win. Perhaps he would continue to watch her growth. He would see how promising she was in the future then perhaps buy her from the arena and employ her in his army. He could use another good fighter.