Playful, childish, laughter rings through the silent village, filling the town square with noise that was once lacking from the dead bodies lingering around on the ground.
The air was pungent with the smell of decaying bodies and the scent of charred flesh, fire had wrecked the island along with the help of the Marines.
Not one child knew why their parents, siblings, neighbours, and pets were sleeping such a deep chilling sleep, but children aren't supposed to know about the touches of death and the effect it had on the living.
But one child knew, she knew all about death and the touches it had on the living. For she was death's child herself.
Her name, Ketsueki no hana.
Blossom of blood.
This is her story.