This is an OC centric story, let me know if you'd like to see more about her, and don't be shy, I love feedback.

It's not known, but he didn't start out as a laconic madman who constantly talked to himself.

Well, he'd been a madman all along, as the one closest to him would learn in her later years, but he'd seemed much more… normal before the people in blue took him away and strapped him down in a little white room.

Before all that he was one of the only people Tsukihana really knew. Well, she'd known many people in passing because he brought "friends" over very often. When her father was in a certain mood he brought a friend over on Friday to the play room in their home's basement, and the next Friday they were gone. If he was still in this certain mood by the time this friend was gone he came home after being gone all day with a new friend to take their place for the week.

For as long as Tsuki could remember, this is how things went.

Her father was a tall, wiry man with deep tired stains under his black eyes. His pupils blended in against the dark background of his irises, and the sclera of his eyes were always webbed with stressed red veins. His hair was a wildly curly flaming hue of orange styled mostly slicked back.

Tsuki looked like him in her own way, with the same pale skin, black irises, and fluffy curly hair. Though her hair was a shade of peach instead of incredibly deep in pigment, she did keep it sort of slicked back like him. Neither one of them were very good at hair styling or keeping up snazzy appearances.

Wearing her usual black and white striped long sleeved shirt under a pair of baggy black overalls, the nine year old with sleepy eyes made her way to the back of her home, towards the basement funroom that her father mostly made her stay out of.

He usually only had Tsuki enter the funroom when his visiting friends needed cleaning up after a bit of "playing", which usually left them traumatized and hysterical messes covered in red and missing chunks of themselves.

The fair haired child carried a bucket of soapy water and a sanitized rag in her other hand. The floorboards creaked under her soft, barefoot stride, as they always did, and the halls were dark, because the lights in the house were almost never on.

Tsuki let herself into the ominous, crookedly hinged door leading into the basement, taking a moment to open it and step into the doorway, stepping into the first groaning step before pulling the door shut behind herself.

The dark eyed girl walked down the stairs, every other step creaking and protesting under her weight. At the bottom, she didn't bat an eye at the workshop-esque room beneath her home. It was lit by candlelight, and the walls were lined with shelves holding all sorts of strange tools Tsuki couldn't name, but knew full well were meant to bring pain and blood.

The floor was made of white tile, a large drain in the center of the floor for when fun time was over the last friday a friend stayed.

Said friend was strapped to a stainless steel lab table in the room, their mouth was stapled open, the stressed flesh around the little ticks of metal crusted with old blood. The woman had probably been pretty at some point, but she was shaved bald, nude, and missing all of her fingers.

The nubs had been crudely cauterized with a blowtorch her father kept in the funroom, and the wounds showed signs of infection, if the swollen edges, and bubbling, leaking yellow pus was anything to go by.

Tsuki knew those missing digits had been bitten clean off. Her dad had a fancy for a nice set of fingers.

Shaking her head slightly at her wondering thoughts, Tsuki's eyes trailed over the nude, slowly starving form of the restrained friend.

There were chunks of flesh missing from the woman's thighs, her abdomen, and her arms. It was quite obvious that these missing pieces had been bitten away as well. They also showed signs of infection, and had they not been cleaned by Tsuki herself, they'd probably be a breeding ground for insects. Even so, the thick, metallic smell of blood, and the sour odor of ill, open flesh was heavy in the funroom's stale air.

'I'll have to clean the walls again soon.' Tsuki thought absently.

The child looked again at the friend. The woman seemed to be bloodless, and her large blue eyes stared listlessly at the ceiling. She had stopped choking on her screams a long time ago, and simply waited for the end everyone in the house knew would come.

Tsuki walked closer to the hopelessly dazed friend, setting her bucket of soapy water onto the tool table holding medical supplies set up next to the lab table that served as friend's bed.

Friend didn't react to Tsuki's proximity, and as the child had learned long ago, they never did once they reached such a state. Friend was simply waiting at this point, in too much pain in general to protest her situation anymore.

Tsuki began gently wiping away the crusted, mostly congealed red smeared around her numerous, irritated bite wounds.

Friend didn't react.

Tsuki bit her lip slightly. For as long as she could remember, her dad had tasked her to clean up the weekly visiting friends. But only recently had she found her purpose to be… unsettling.

Tsuki wasn't sure the way she should describe her feelings. Her father homeschooled her, and she didn't think of herself as dumb, but she really didn't know. What was the unease she felt? She didn't necessarily feel sad for the friends that came and went, but she knew what she felt wasn't positive.

Tsuki knew she didn't like to gradually see the light leaving their eyes every time she visited them after play time, until there truly was no more light because their abused bodies no longer held life.

Or, maybe she was sad, but there was also other things. One that twisted her stomach around in knots, and that heavy, horrible feeling was always the worst when the friends first arrived, when they screamed and cried and begged for Tsuki to let them free when her dad wasn't around. When they noticed that she wouldn't go against her dad because all she ever knew was listening to what he told her to do. And then the friends became angry, and they called Tsuki sick, and a monster, and said she was awful for helping her dad get away with what he was doing.

But what was he doing?

Was it wrong for her dad to have play time? He sounded so happy through the walls when Tsuki heard him, even though the friends always sounded like they weren't happy.

But… was it wrong for Tsuki to clean up her dad's friends and not let them out when they asked? And if it was, how could she tell?

Wasn't it bad to not listen to her dad? Tsuki's father said not to let them out, that she had to be a good little girl and do what he said, or bad people would come and take him away. That they would take her away and lock them both up and they would never have fun again.

Even though Tsuki didn't really think her dad's fun time was fun, Tsuki's father was the only constant person in her life. Because of this, the nine year old didn't want anyone to take him away. She didn't want to be taken away.

She didn't want him to leave and be gone like the friends did after a weeks time was up.

Tsuki absently wiped a bit of dribbling saliva from friend's gaping mouth, coming back to herself and staring at the shell of a person before her.

"Friend," Tsuki murmured. "What's right, and what's wrong? Am I bad because I didn't let you out? But how am I bad when my daddy said I'm good for listening to him? What should I do friend?"

Friend didn't answer.

She just stared with dead eyes up at the ceiling, more saliva trickling out of her forcefully opened mouth.

Tsuki sighed, feeling a little disappointed. But...

This friend was already broken, she knew.

Tsuki'd have to ask the next one what they thought.

Tskuihana, 月花 meaning: "moon flower".

I thought Moonfish could use a real background story, but ended up wanting to write a fic about his child.

This is posted specifically for Halloween, my favorite holiday. Happy Halloween and Terror to All!