Enjoy! ;D *I hope I spelled those Japanese characters right below __ It's supposed to say "Jigoku Shoujo Fan Fiction" :3
地獄少女ファンのフィクション
The Blue Doll : Part 1
"Hey, have you heard of Hell Correspondence?"
"Yea, yea! It's where you go to this site and they'll take revenge for you!"
"Isn't that kind of old? I heard it doesn't work at all."
"The Hell Girl is named Emma Ai, right? She never answered me when I went on there…"
"What a joke."
***
The old cabin was silent and dark, lined with dragon claw flowers front and back. They swayed in the gentle breeze, listless and wet with dew from the previous rain. A pond glistened beside the lonely building, water splashing up to the shore with the flowers, an old mill turner to the left. All that was left of the sky was a half-moon and shrouded stars, as shadowed as the cabin, though not as ominous.
Along the pathway of the house, a girl walked, her gaze held up to the cloudy night. Her eyes were deep red, large and intense. There spoke a hidden past full of pain and sadness, her physical appearance not matching the age and wisdom beneath it. Long, lovely black hair flowed down her shoulders, her slender body clothed by a plain white undergarment.
"Ai?"
Called an elderly voice from the cabin.
From the shadow cast on the door of the building, an old woman was busy spinning silk into cloth on a thread machine.
"Ai. Ai?"
Slowly, the girl-Ai-turned her head down from the sky. "Yes, grandma?" she said softly.
"You haven't gotten a request for quite some time. People must be solving their problems better these days, aren't they?"
Ai's eyes were inexplicable as she lowered them to the flower drifting on the ground to her.
"Yeah."
The spinning stopped abruptly. "Ai." Her grandmother's voice was slightly surprised. "You have a request."
For one second, the girl froze. Her pale face betrayed a small fear and apprehension.
Then she bent down, picking up the now-wilted dragon flower and brushed the dirt off its slick coat.
In the same calm and emotionless voice was the reply. "I am coming, grandma."
***
Nanisho Rumi frantically picked at the lock on the door, gaze darting to the left and right. Her hands shook as tried to insert the correct key into the house, but ended up dropping it at the last minute. I can't do it! This was her fifth time attempting to break into a stranger's home and already she could hear the sirens ringing around the neighborhood, shouting filling the streets. If she was caught again, they would haul her off to jail for years, and she knew she couldn't even last days in that place.
"Damn it, damn it! C'mon…"
Out of the corner of Rumi's wary eyes, she noticed a man giving her glances and talking to the woman next to him. They knew.
"Shit!" Hastily, she shoved the key and rammed the door, almost wild with fear. "Hurry, hurry…" Finally, a small click, and she flew into the house, snapping the door closed just as the two couple sprinted her way.
"Safe." Rumi sighed, her smile lopsided and crazed.
Her face grew pleased as she looked around. This place was perfect. It wasn't too big or small, with simple accommodations like the living room, kitchen, bathroom, and one minuscule bedroom just right for her. The light shifting through the dirty window was dull and dark, something she enjoyed instead of all the fake sunshine the previous four houses had conveyed. But there was one thing she absolutely needed from this place…
Rumi carefully walked through the hallway and into the bedroom. Plain white walls, a bed and a desk met her smiling face as she saw her desired object.
The hand-me-down computer sat on the edge of the desk, flickering on at her touch. She sat down in the chair, clicking on the browser and instantly logged onto the Net.
Ichimoku Ren.
Rumi keyed in the name and pressed enter on Google search.
An image flashed on the screen, followed by a loud squeal from the girl. Her eyes were insane, bright and dim at the same time. Her gaze devouring and tracing every single aspect of the guy in front of her.
"Ren, my love," Rumi whispered in a hushed voice. "I believe we will meet soon."
She glanced at the clock. 10:05 p.m.
Sighing, the 16-year-old ran a hand through her dirty brown hair. It had taken her a whole week to get the information on this For-Sale house, a whole week of planning for the right time to break in and enter, just so she could use the computer she knew was in the building.
"I can spare another 2 hours." Rumi said reasonably, to no one in particular.