So guess who decided she was unhappy with Iris's characterization, and wanted to revise the existing chapters? This girl, that's who. Anyway, enjoy the revised first chapter, I'm going to be updating the new ones shortly. Then we can get to chapter 6. Sorry about this.
Right, edit number 2. I apologize for not thinking of this sooner: if you don't feel comfortable or safe reading about emotional neglect, then this might not be the fic for you, as it's part of Iris's backstory. Again, sorry for not adding this sooner.
Chapter 1: Ache
Her stomach always hurt in Ankoku Temple.
The tour guide always said it was dust from the shrine. "Allergens and old paint," he'd assure her with a click of the tongue, before leading the rest of her cousins further on. Iris was skeptical at best, but held her tongue. It was easier than arguing.
She didn't have dust allergies, and it wasn't a stomachache. It was pain, pain in the skin across her body, like a bear trap with dulled teeth clamping into her skin. Yet when she excused herself – and she did every year – to check her torso in the water's reflection, she found nothing. When she came back, her uncle shook his head, and she could hear him mutter something about her "hating Ryoshima Coast so much".
"I don't hate Ryoshima Coast."
"I know." Ken was still rubbing the Band-Aid on the side of his arm. The spot where she'd been vaccinated had stopped hurting a while ago, but that seemed more like a small reprieve for what was coming than actual relief. "Just the ruins."
"Just the ruins," she nodded. "They make me uncomfortable." That was the half-truth she'd settled on; it was easier than explaining the truth, especially when she barely understood what that was beyond a sense of unpleasant forboding.
"It's hard, I know." His hand was large on her shoulder. He was 7 years older than her, and even though he was just pushing 30, he acted like her dad more than her cousin. "It's for Dad, you know?"
"I know." Iris only seen a couple pictures of her mom, but her uncle – mom's brother – told her all the time about how she'd been captivated with the story of the city lost in flames, how thrilled she'd been when she'd seen the excavation site around the city's ruins. Everyone had been wearing surgical masks, due to the "strange gas" leaking out of the ground and wafting off of the ashes. Her mom, ever the adventurer, had handed off baby Iris to her uncle and stepped in without a mask.
She was the first to find out what the "strange gas" was. By the time they'd developed the vaccine, she was beyond saving.
So here they were, every year, memorializing her mother. Part of Iris always wanted to decline coming, to go somewhere else for the summer or at least come here by herself, but she always stopped. It wasn't fair to take this from her uncle; they'd been siblings their whole lives. He probably missed her more than Iris did, and she tried, but it was difficult to mourn a mother she'd never truly known.
The shrine was lit with candles that smelled vaguely like green tea. It didn't do much for the stench of dust and rotting fabric, but it was a nice attempt, she'd give the tour people that. Ken stayed close behind her as they walked in.
The pain started immediately. She cringed, but didn't double over like she had some years. She had to push past it. She could see her uncle looking at her warily from the corner of his eye. Just allergens, she told herself, even though she didn't believe it. It was the only explanation she had. They would only be in here for a few minutes.
"You okay?" Ken asked.
"Yeah," she lied.
They were free to walk around the shrine. "No souvenirs," the tour guide said, and started going on about the devotees who would come to the temple every year before the plague wiped them all out. She'd heard this, what, eighteen times before? They'd started coming here… when she was two, she remembered now, so seventeen times.
The broken statue at the back was the one thing Iris liked. It felt like home, strange as that sounded, like coming back to a familiar face. Even with the pain she liked it; when she was younger, she'd liked to pretend that it was waiting for her. The tour guide wasn't paying attention, so she moved closer to it, admiring the craftsmanship.
Two pinpoints sharpened in her. Something she didn't recognize sat in the shadows, a motionless lump. She grabbed at it, trying to anchor herself as the pain made her lightheaded. Her hand closed around something solid. The burning focused in rows across her skin. She pulled her arm back, clutching it tight, feeling the clamp on her stomach tighten.
In the haze of the pain she could barely focus on her actions. She fumbled with the lump of fabric until she found a drawstring and pulled. Something fell in her lap, and with another shake something else joined it –
And then the pain stopped. Her world came back into focus, first with her hearing. That was when she noticed the silence.
Everyone was gone. The tour guide, her uncle, her five other cousins… Ken. They were all gone.
"Ken?" No answer. The pain had completely receded, replaced with cold panic; the door to the temple hung open, but she couldn't see anyone outside. She started to get up, and felt a weight on her knee. She looked down to what had fallen out of what was now clearly a silk pouch.
The larger, heavier object was a chunky jade coin. It hung on a bit of red rope, and she could barely make out that there was writing on it – nothing intelligible though, as it had long been eroded. It has heavy in her hand, about the weight of an apple, and cool to the touch.
Sitting on top of the coin and spilling around it was a string of jade beads. They were much paler than the coin, but all of them were identical in color and shine. She lifted the necklace from her lap, entwining it between her fingers.
Iris frowned at her hands, and set the things down on the table.
The pain was immediate and burning. She doubled over, grabbing her stomach as the pain flared. Were her hands wet? Was she bleeding? She forced her eyes open. No blood, but oh, did it hurt-
Before she knew what she was doing, her hand closed around the necklace, and the pain fell silent again. She lifted it up, but not the coin – that didn't seem to be charmed.
Charmed? Iris shook her head, but still unclipped the clasp on the necklace. The beads were cool on her neck, and fit surprisingly well. The coin she shoved into her pocket – no souvenirs, she thought to herself, but she wanted to show it to Ken. She had to catch up, or her uncle would never let her hear the end of it. Iris turned back to the door.
A woman stood at the entrance. She looked Iris in the eye, and beckoned her forward with a pale hand. Then she disappeared.