HALCYON [Minamoto Teru]

Act III : 34

THREE YEARS AGO ...

TERU & NORA, 3RD YEAR JUNIOR HIGH STUDENTS

Tensions grew a strenuous high between the shoji, paper thin walls that separated an ill omen of death with the outside world of the Minamoto compound. Cherry blossom prints bloomed onto the layout, however the speckled blood splattered across it was mistaken for yet another petal.

A young child around the age of thirteen or fourteen, sat on a zabuton, a cushion for sitting. It was a miracle she had even received this much.

The eyes that burrowed into the cranny of her skull as she dared raise her head upward to meet the eyes of Daisuke Minamoto, spitting a metallic blood out of her mouth and onto the mat. "You crazy bastard." She spat without hesitation.

A clan elder had doused her head with purified distilled water as Nora let out a low growl.

"You are a witch who brought misfortune to the very woman who became your salvation. This is an act of treachery .."

"Good for nothing."

"Foul witch."

Nora only laughed as she pushed her soaked bangs upward. "I'm the foul one? You lot are abusing a fourteen year old child, don't you dare speak to me about insolence. We live in the modern day now, even I as someone who's lived more lives than you can count on a hand, knows this." Abusing may have been a little bit of a stretch, but Nora would use any and every card in her asset.

"She gave you a name."

"She taught you exorcism."

"Your misfortune plagued her."

The temptation .. the urge just to get the slightest bit of relief of giving into destruction. To snap her fingers and allow every ounce of karmic grace she spared to be set ablaze in the gaslighting gasoline she poured upon herself to burn into nothing more than ash.

The crimson that tainted her irises, she wished to paint a begrudging portrait of a framework existing of life and its horrors. Something even the beauty of the world could not surpass its sins of mortality.

"Nora."

The witch blinked once and she found Teru's hand above her head as she sighed.

"Looks like the witch has gone crazy, mumbling to herself." Another bruising scorn, a purple flower blossomed itself on her wounded soul, only to fade away for the days to come.