Angel Anonymous
Prologue
Author's Note: Once more, the Prologue is the only part of my story written in 3rd person. Enjoy. And, yes, Mika still does have OCD after the blow to the head, only it is more suppressed and she can control it (She now only sorts things that can actually be visibly sorted, such a coins and knifes and colors)
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The village was not that big, nor that small. It was a peaceful place with plenty of people with plenty of animals, land, and food. There was a crystalline river that ran on the western side of the village and it was believed that a beautiful goddess lived there that blessed the village. The village was named Aya for its mass production of fine silken wears.
The greatest pride in the village of Aya was their women. Their women were hard working, kind, and fiercely independent. They answered to no one outside of their village. The strange thing about one particular girl was the color of her eyes. Her hair was the color of mahogany; her eyes were a bluish color, not commonly seen within the women, but the hair color was a pre-selected norm. Her eyes, if you looked closely, had a small black star at the very edge of the iris. She always wore something with a hint of yellow in it, her usual clothes a brown kimono with a yellow obi and leaf designs. This little girl was particular about those she talked to, and for no apparent reason, she always carried baskets of leafs back to her home to store under a loose plank in her house in her room. Her name was Mika, for the strange yet inviting fragrance of milk and honey that lingered around her.
Yes, Mika was a strange girl. Her hair was only shoulder long, as she cut it each time it grew longer than that. She also sorted her leaves in her room for hours, and got unusually violent and spastic whenever they were disorganized. There would be shrieking and throwing and slamming, and this usually drove her mother or father out of the room in a hurry. This usually debilitated her, and soon her parents stopped the pattern of leaf collecting and sorting. Then Mika found flowers to sort, kimonos to sort, wood to sort, anything that could be sorted and placed in piles or groups Mika grabbed and sorted day and night. Soon, her room was filled with sake cups, statues, lumps of river clay, pebbles, wooden planks, hats, chopsticks, flowers, and wads of crumbled paper, all in "organized" piles scattered about Mika's bedroom.
There was a meeting in the village that day that something had to be done about Mika's strange behavior.
So, on the first night of the new moon, two elders and a young boy came into Mika's room as she was sorting pieces of triangular paper. The two elders scattered the assortment as Mika flew into a wild rage, lunging at the first person she saw, the young boy. The young boy swung hard, a large crack echoing through the room. Mika fell on the ground, blood running down her face just as the river that whistled about the village. The elders bandaged her head and then placed her in bed.
Consequently, Mika had stayed in a fortuitous coma for the course of about eight years, during which her village was attacked and burned down. About three months after the burning of her village, Mika awoke to lying in the charred remains of her home and her village. Removing the wrap from her head, there was a jagged scar showing on the side of her forehead, hidden under her now eyes long bangs that carpeted her forehead and sheeted over her eyes. Mika only found a blued sword, with a red hilt and golden tassels. Leaving her hair down her back, fine as it was she decided, she walked off in her now tiny kimono, never to return to the burned shambles of Aya.
