A/N: This story was inspired by the Little Concierge Girl event!

Present:

Smoke. Another man is here in our apartment. From my sleeping mat on the floor behind the couch, the cigarette smoke wafted over the edge and down into my face. Fighting the urge to cough, mother's voice filled the room, an octave higher than it typically was. She sweet talked to him. Handsome. Gentleman. Then she repeated her price. This had become the routine. All I had do was be quiet. Not exist.

My mother asked to go into the small bedroom, but the man refused, preferring to stay on the couch. The sound of a zipper being unzipped slowly broke the silence. Slurping noises followed. The man moaned loudly, commenting on her nice mouth. Stretching his arms over the top of the couch, he shook his cigarette to let the ashes fall.

Covering my mouth with my hands, I tried so hard to hold back the scream of pain when the ashes sprinkled into my right eye. Squeezing my eyes shut did no good. It only prolonged the burning pain. Try as I might, the sounds escaped my lips.

The man turned his head, alarmed. "What the hell?! You've got a kid in here? Are you out of your mind?! Filthy whore!" He must have shoved her by the thud. He was gone before my mother could even begin to beg him to stay.

The couch was ripped away from the wall, my mother seething. "You stupid child! That was our rent for the next month! That was dinner for us! Stupid! Worthless! Can't you do anything right? After I was gracious enough to keep you!" Mother screamed, throwing everything in reach at me.

The alarm on my phone had been going off for a long time. Cracking my eyes open, reality came rushing back. That had been so long ago… almost ten years. If so much time has passed, why is that woman still haunting my sleep? Tapping my fingers on the screen to stop the alarm, I rolled onto my back to stare at the ceiling. All she ever gave me was bruises and punishments. Why should I feel sad for her?

Stretching my arms over my head, I studied my hands. Clean. Painted nails. I'd gotten a manicure the other day. Unlike hers. They were always a little dirty, and had chipped nail polish from a cheap store near where we lived. That had been our life for years. A laugh escaped my lips. Look at me now, waking up in a suite on the top of floor of a fancy hotel.

Deciding to get out of bed, I could smell breakfast being cooked. I sifted through my closet. Maroon leggings. A loose, dark green dress. Slip on black boots. We were flying to Japan today, for 'a while', whatever that means. Even though we took a private jet, I wanted to be comfy. In the bathroom, I quickly applied a light amount of makeup. Feeling presentable, I left my room to venture into the kitchen.

"Morning, sleepy! I made you breakfast," Minami said with a grin, like always.

"You make me breakfast most mornings, Minami," I replied, abandoning my usual spot by the counter. Slipping under his arm, I wrapped my arms around his waist and hugged him tightly. Leaning my forehead on his chest, I sighed to myself.

The pan clattered softly as he set it aside to return the embrace. Petting my head, he remained silent for a moment. It was comfortable. "What's wrong, Bexley?" Minami asked. He rarely used my full name, opting for the short version most days.

Collecting myself, I shook my head. "Nothing. Just a bad dream." We never brought up my mom. When I was younger, I had told him everything once. And since that day, we hadn't spoke about her.

Minami held onto me a little longer. "Okay. I understand." He planted a soft kiss on my head. "Are you ready to go back to Japan?" He'd been worried about it since he'd told me a few days ago. His siblings were all going to be there, but his father and the man's wife still hate me and are very vocal about it.

I nodded my head with a smile. "Totally ready. You don't have to worry about me so much." It felt nice, though. Minami had been patient with me since the day we met, making sure I was comfortable with everything.

"That's my job! You're my little baby—" He made kissy noises at me.

Laughing and shoving him away, I replied, "I thought you owned this hotel as your job. And I'm not a baby." My thoughts about my mother began to fade away and I was reminded about how happy being here with Minami made me. He's my family now.

"Eh, that's my side job. My main job is taking care of my fifteen-year-old little girl," He patted my head lightly. He says that so casually, like we were meant to be together from the start. Minami had barely turned eighteen, and I was only five when we met. It took less than a year for him to convince me to let him adopt me.

The world around me seemed to become brighter whenever he talked to me like this. I smiled genuinely, all the dark feelings inside going away. This is where I belong. "Well, I'm grateful that you take care of me," I said, standing up on my tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. "Thanks for breakfast, too." Sliding the omelet onto a plate, I sat at the breakfast bar on a stool.

His phone rang, and he left to go answer it in his bedroom. Probably some brokenhearted woman calling to ask for a second chance or an explanation. Though Minami had a good heart and cared for me more than anyone else in his life, he was still a player. Sometimes I'd even witnessed the aftermath. They would yell at him, calling him all kinds of names.

They were like the men that my mom brought over. All they wanted was to use Minami for his money and power. They would even try to sweet talk me to make him like them more, pretending to be accepting of the fifteen-year-old. Really, they thought I was in the way of what they wanted. I liked that Minami didn't care for keeping them around. We don't need them.

"Sorry about that. Mac wanted to know what time we'd be in Japan," Minami said, checking his watch. "When you're done, we'll head to the airport." That was code for "we're going to be late if you don't hurry."

Stuffing the last bite of omelet into my mouth, I scooted the plate away. "M'I'm do'me," I tried to say through all the egg in my mouth. Going into my room, I grabbed the suitcase I'd packed last night, jerking up the handle so it would roll. Out in the main room, a concierge man happily took the case from me to take down to the car.

Minami stopped me before I followed the man out. The door closed with a heavy click. "Here, this is for you," he said, giving me a little box.

Untying the little ribbon, I slowly opened the box. Inside, there was a necklace made from diamonds and rubies. It shimmered under the light. My mouth dropped open slightly, and all I could do was stare for a solid minute. "It's beautiful," I finally mustered up some words. It's more than that. It's gorgeous. Stunning.

"It's almost our ten-year anniversary of when I adopted you. I thought the occasion called for something special, because you're special," Minami said with a grin. He spoils me. All the time. He tells me to spend as much as I want on anything. But this…

I couldn't keep the smile off my face. "Thank you, Minami! I love it!"

Once he'd clasped the necklace securely around my neck, he held open the door. "I'm glad that you do. And now, we have a plane to catch." He paused. "It doesn't matter what any of them think, Bex. You're a Kira. Don't forget it."

He told me that all the time. Always reminding me that I was his, and that made me a Kira. His brothers had never said anything about it, but it was clear in recent years that they were afraid I'd do something to stain the Kira name. Sure, they accepted me without questions, but they never really associated with me unless they had to. Minami says it's because none of them get along. Their father, who had told me that he hated me, wasn't kind to them, and that drove a wedge between all six. But, it'll be okay… I've got Minami and that's all I need. We probably won't stay long in Japan anyways, right?

On the flight, Minami had work to do, so I had my headphones in and stared out the window. I never imagined that I'd be on a private jet. The soft music reminded me of the song playing from the diner where I met Minami. It's been so long, but I still remember it. Crystal clear.

It had all started with a dare.