Sorry for not posting for so long, but I had my public exams (which are now OVER!)

Disclaimer: I do not own Fushigiboshi no Futagohime or any of its characters

Chapter 1

I opened my eyes. Immediately, the white ceiling confused me. At home, ceilings were always pink or blue, or pale yellow, and I would always wake up to a lamp the shape of a sunflower.

Then there was the smell: the ghastly odour of antiseptic that reminded me to injections and cadavers, and animals being dragged out of the tanks of glassy liquid, stiff and moribund. It was too clean, way too clean, and it eradicated everything alive.

Then there was the silence. In mornings, I would wake up to the screech of the alarm clock, before noticing the humming of the microwave and the annoying chirp right outside the window, accompanied by my sisters' yawn. Some years ago, before we moved to the new house, there was also the gentle rolling of the grandfather clock that used to unnerve me whenever I went past it. But in this room, there was no sound, not even a ticking clock. I strained to hear something, and could only make out a faint sound of dripping water.

And then there was a face. Dad sat absolutely immobile, staring ahead but not seeing. He reminded me of the cadaver, dead with a hollow heart. He frightened me.

"Where's Rein?" I asked feebly. He sat unmoved. "Where's mum?"

Only then did I realise I was bound to the bed by numerous wires. Around my face, my arms, my feet, and though I couldn't see to make sure, my torso which was covered by the blanket, bandages were wrapped over and over again.

Slowly, as though he had to use every last ounce of his energy to speak, Dad said, "There was a fire…"

And then I remembered what had happened.

It didn't take me long to recover, because I managed to escape the house in time. Before long, I was packing my belongings into a bag that my dad brought, and was folding meticulously along the creases of my shirt. "Got everything?" he asked casually. I murmured in response.

I knew we were both dreading to go back to the house. Most of the time, dad came to visit after work, and stayed past visitor's hours, just to avoid returning to an empty house filled with pictures and memories of Rein and Mum. As if staring at me and being forced constantly to acknowledge that the fire had happened was better.

Dad strolled out of the room, allowing me to take sweet time in folding and refolding my clothes, lining the edges together and crumpling them because my hands trembled. The words 'don't go' dried up in my throat. But he was gone already.

Alone, the nightmares flocked to attack despite being daytime. Scenes of devils and monsters and cars chasing me, Rein and mum flashed before my eyes, like they do at night, before inevitably blurring with my memories. Suddenly, there was an ablaze lion running towards us, and then the lion morphed into a fireball, the fireball into a deck of cards, and eventually the whole outline of the mansion appeared, luminescent in the dark night.

I was out in the garden. My right sleeve was aflame, my legs badly burnt, but still capable of running away. Yet I wasn't running away. I paused beside the plum trees on the boulevard, my head cocked to one side. Something was amiss. What was it? Think, Fine, think carefully. I peered at the windows on the upper floors of the mansion, trying to figure out what I had left in the guest bedroom. It was something precious, something I cherished enough to stop escaping and looking for help, something…and then a molten figure smacked itself against the glass.

That was the point when I woke up.

After the short drive from the hospital, I held my breath as Dad retrieved the keys to the front door. The lawn had stayed the same, I repeated again and again to myself, the lawn is still here. I tried to trace the silhouette of every strand of grass, every small weed poking out from underneath the bushes, as an effort to distract myself, but my sight became blurry all of a sudden and the grass and weeds all became one blob of green.

"Home sweet home," announced dad placidly. He disappeared into the hallway. Outside, I gazed into the void framed by the front door, which contrasting to the bright, sunny day, was more opaque and menacing than I had thought possible. Through the front door, then what? Then I would be confronted by the ghosts of Rein and Mum, lingering in photos and at tables and on sofas. They would be there wherever I looked. And even when I tried not to look, they would appear in my dreams as molten figures stuck to the glass window.

Timorously, I stepped into my home, and gasped. I did not recognize the place immediately. Sections of the wallpaper were stripped away, and the tumble of shoes and umbrellas by the door was instead replaced with cardboard box upon cardboard box. In the living room, the shelves were mostly dismantled, and I had to leap over heaps of books and files to reach the sofa, which was devoid of all the cushions Rein and I used to cuddle with. Turning to Dad, I took note of the sagging skin and dark circles under his eyes, and realized they weren't only caused by the tragedy. His gaunt frame stooped in the doorway, solemnly gazing at the dining room table, which was still intact.

In an effort to ease the pain of two deaths in the family, Dad tried to remove all evidence that the deceased once existed.

The deceased. The word was stuck in my throat again.

Wordlessly, we moved to the first floor. He opened the door of the study, where a makeshift bed with a mattress was squeezed into the room. "You can sleep here if you want," he spoke with the formality of a landlord introducing a stranger to his house.

"How about you then?" I asked.

"I'm fine with staying in my own room."

"So am I," I uttered. Somehow, lies didn't stick my throat.

"By the way, Aaron and Camelia want to visit. Are you okay with that?"

I nodded, and then Dad left for his room

Aaron and Camelia Jewell are our neighbours. Weeks ago, they had invited us to a holiday at their cousin's mansion, which we agreed, with Dad joining us later as he had to finish off some report of his. On the second night, they suggested that we watch a play in town together, but the rest of us, too weary to accompany the energetic family, decided to stay behind. It took some time for Rein to persuade Bright to join his family and leave her behind.

And then there was a fire.

I wandered down the stairs to the living room window. From there, I could see the Jewell household, their rhododendrons gleaming in the afternoon sun. Everything was cheery as usual.

They only visited twice, bringing flowers and cookies and words of comfort, but their presence irked me and I made it clear to them. Only Bright appeared to understand how I feel. He looked haunted on both visits, his lips stretched thin, shoulders drooped. I was reminded of a chance encounter of him and Rein after school one day: the blue-haired girl and the blonde boy laughing, holding hands as they walked across the park, blissfully unaware that I was grinning while trailing behind them.

That's when I started to feel guilty of surviving.

Their car pulled into the driveway. From the passenger seat, a lanky boy with dark blue hair stepped out. The first thing he did was to gaze across the street, his blue eyes staring at me with disquieting intensity. "The Jewells have brought a stranger home," I told Dad.

"Ah, yes," he wiped his hands on his jeans. "That'll be the Deluna boy, called Shade I think. He was the only other survivor besides you."