A/N: This is the prologue so it's a little bit short, but this is just to set a little basis... It gets better, trust me. It's not always sad. No deaths every 2 chapters, I promise.
Rikura stomped her foot. "You're so unfair! You always tell on me, but I never tell on you!"
"But that's your own fault, isn't it, sister?" Kikari snapped back. Her short soot black hair lay in a slightly curled wave, stopping just below her shoulders. Her odd deep blue-violet eyes shone with childish mischeif.
Rikura's long silver hair floated behind her and her pale blue eyes blazed as she ran towards her sister, her elder by three years. Rikura was nine, but acted much younger. Her bottom lip trembled. "But Mom'll revoke my training practice! If I can ever be a pokemon master, I have to practice first. It's not fair. Just stop it!"
"Nope. I'm telling Mom you stole that candy bar."
"I forgot to put it on the counter!"
"So?"
Rikura let out a wail, smacking her sister's arm. "Ow!" Kikari swung at her, her fist locking with Rikura's jaw.
"Now I have something to tell on you for!" Rikura snapped, rubbing her jaw as tears began to prick at her eyes and her nose stung.
She pivoted around on her heel and began to sprint out of her bedroom and into the kitchen.
"Mom! Mom! Kikari punched me!"
"Only because you smacked me!" Kikari growled from behind her.
"Nuh-uh!"
"Liar!"
"Both of you stop!" Their mother sighed. She was used to this sort of behavior by now, but she still didn't like it. Their mother was prettier when she was younger and wasn't aging well. Rosalind Sorrow had tanned skin now lined with wrinkes and short salt and pepper hair. Her stormy gray eyes had lost their light a long while ago.
"Now, both of you to your rooms."
"I hate you." Kikari said as they made their way back.
"You'll never hate me more than I hate you." Rikura retorted. Kikari closed her eyes and stomped into her room, not saying another word, which surprised both Rikura and her.
~~*~~
The day of Kikari's funeral, Rikura had never felt guiltier, even more than the time she kleptoed the jeweled necklace from the store. She fingered the white gold and opal pendant laced onto a thin golden chain, now around her neck. She wore a long black trench coat buttoned all the way. Underneath she wore Kikari's old purple dress, slightly tight on her. Kikari's favorite color of wild iris Apple Barrel paint, or at least as close as she could find.
Kikari died at the age of 17, on her birthday, in a car crash. The day of the funeral was now, six months later, the day of Rikura's own 14th birthday. But nobody noticed, nor did they care, most likely. Rikura snuck away from the mourning crowd, now gathered at a podium, and sat down next to Kikari's coffin. It was white marble. Rikura dug in her pocket and grunted with frustration as she couldn't find what she was looking for.
Hoping she didn't forget it, she tried the other pocket and sighed with relief as her fingertips brushed cool plastic. She grasped the object and pulled it out, setting it on the coffin. She unbuttoned her trenchcoat and let out a sigh. She slipped away into the trees, searching for some destination that was said not even to exist, but she knew that it had to. Where else would They stay? She kept walking, despite the fact it began to snow.
It was Christmas Eve.
~~*~~
Rosalind Sorrow walked over to her daughter's coffin, dusting a light coating of snow off the golden plaque. Something at the foot of the coffin caught her eye. Sitting at the base was a half-full bottle of Wild Iris paint, with Kikari scribbled across the lid in bright orange permanent marker.