"Wicked heart; evil design"

I didn't know then. The impact she would have on my life. But, I like to think that I had an idea.

Circumstance

Fate I: First Impact

"Each meeting occurs at the precise moment for which it was meant. Usually, when it will have the greatest impact on our lives."

-Nadia Scrieva, Fathoms of Forgiveness

The truth of the matter is that, in my past life, I wasn't a very driven person.

I was the one who let things happen to her. I didn't act, I reacted. I didn't like to move, but when someone else moved me, I went without complaint. Afraid of backlash. Afraid of rejection. Afraid, afraid, afraid. [Someone like me doesn't deserve a second chance.]

I don't know what it is about this place, but, all this numbness has birthed a growing lack of care for the disapproval of others. That is to say, I became less wary of consequences.

Some revelations come slowly. They start as tiny buds under layers of other, more prevalent thoughts that slowly, through time and careful attention, blossoms into a flower that demands attention frequently. These revelations are those that do not seem like revelations, insidious as they are- by the time they have bloomed, they have become a core part of you, and you are incapable of uprooting them.

Others burgeon like flames. There is a small spark- a stray strand of tinder alights in the corner of the mind- and suddenly a wildfire is borne, razing down the fields that once smothered it. It consumes the mind and suddenly you are no longer in control of your own thoughts. Impassioned by one idea, blind to all else. It sweeps you up unexpectedly, and before you know it you are no longer where you once were, in a place entirely foreign to your own.

Five months after I turned three, I woke up and decided to run away.

Had I been thinking rationally, I would have remembered the futility of such an action. But I wasn't, and I didn't.

And now I stand in a small copse behind a house, with no idea how the hell I got here.

I try to think back, remember what happened after I voiced my feverish decision, but I can't. I can't, I can't, I can't andI'm scared because the one thing I value the most is my autonomy, and if my own mind has begun to take even that away then I was doomed, doomed, doomed. [writhing and kicking and wanting to scream "LET ME OUT" but there's nothing I can do and the walls are closing in and it's suffocating me and I can't-] I began to tremble, and I squeezed my arms around my midriff to stop myself, but I couldn't and now my lips are trembling and oh god I'm about to cry-

"Hello?"

I stopped. No. Someone was here? No. They can't see me cry, they just can't. I squeeze my eyes closed decided to ignore them. Maybe if I ignore them for long enough, they'll get the memo and leave.

"Is somebody there?" The voice belongs to a child. It's squeaky and innocent, but not at all grating.

These words strike me as strange though, because the voice seems to be somewhat close. Can't they see me? What are they playing at?

"Please, I know you're there. It's not very nice for you to ignore me."

I don't even notice that my shaking has stopped, because my curiosity has won out and I've turned around and I can see a small girl standing there, hand on an aspen tree, only she can't see me because she's blind.

The blind girl steps forward hesitantly, releasing the deathgrip she has on the aspen to come closer, face scrunched in concentration. Her caution is for nought though, when her foot twists on an unexpected pothole and she crashes to the ground. Without really thinking about it, my training kicks in and I race over and catch her.

"Ah! I knew there was someone there! Thank you, mysterious stranger." The girl giggled a little. I stood there dumbly, not sure what to do now that I had inadvertently confirmed my existence. "I'm okay now." Her voice is gentle, and a little chiding. Startled, I let go of her, only to have her crash at my feet at the abruptness.

I make a small noise of distress, and flutter around the fallen girl in a panic. As she slowly picks herself up, I awkwardly and hesitantly pat the dirt on her clothes and hair. She gives the air a vaguely confused look, which I assume is pointed towards me, and sends me into more of a panic. Does she have a concussion? I lightly slap her cheek, in order to... well, honestly, I guess I wasn't thinking all too much, because apparently all that training paid off and my 'light' slap was enough to send her to the ground again.

I wring my hands together and frantically collect the fallen girl, who seems to be in a state of shock. I drag her over to a small tree stump and sit her down, before racing over to a small flower bush, relieving it of about half of its flowers into a disorganized bouquet. Running back over, I thrust it into her hands. Breaking my unconscious vow to silence, I stutter, "I'm so sorry I didn't mean- I've been training and- here's some flowers they're really pretty, I mean, they're really soft and they smell nice... Um, um, um, I, ah, don't get out much- I'm not a healer, I can't- I'm sorry..." I trail off, my face turning a bright shade of red when I realize how much of a fool I've made of myself. The girl with the scar on both her eyes still doesn't say anything. She is holding my [horrible, unorganized, this isn't a proper apology] bouquet in her right hand, and holding her red cheek in another. She looks to be a few years older than me, maybe five or six. Her hair is white in the way that only albinos and people in anime worlds can be, and though sullied by the dirt it still seems to shine in a way that my old self would have been jealous of [and isn't that ridiculous, a sixteen-nearly-seventeen-year-old being jealous of a five-year-old but then again I'm also three and twenty and I don't even know anymore]. Her skin is very pale, and, though it is still too early to really tell, she seems to have the beginnings of a very fair face in the future. I would almost call her childishly beautiful, but the scar across her eyes was too gruesome for that. Subconsciously, my mind analyzed that the scar could have only been intentional by the jaggedness and sheer malice that radiates from it. I would've been disgusted if I wasn't so fascinated by this strange girl, the first unfamiliar face in years. It doesn't make sense, but something in me is screaming that this girl-

-isn't silent anymore, but curled into herself and trembling, sending me into a panic again. "No, no, no, please don't cry I'm sorry, um, uh..." Remembering what my mother used to do in my past life, I got closer to her and, moving the hand covering her cheek away gently, I planted a sloppy kiss. "Pain, pain, go away, never to come back again..." I sung in my native tongue [I never stopped speaking it, I just never did when other people were around. It seems to be the only thing that validates my previous life, these days, and I hold onto it like a drowning man a liferaft], about to mangle together more childhood rhymes for her, when I realize the girl isn't crying, she is laughing.

"Eh?"

At my bewildered exclamation, she lost it. Doubling over, her laughter bounces off the aspens in the small copse, and I felt my face redden. "F-fine! You seem to be okay, so... so screw you!" Embarrassed and drowning in my body's impulses, I made to leave, but was stopped by a small hand clutching the leg of my pants.

"Wait, please, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you. Stay for a while." She sits up, and feels around for the tree stump for a bit before she manages to re-situate herself. I just stand there, not sure of what I should be doing, and feeling every bit of those years of isolation. [I've forgotten how to hold a proper conversation and isn't that sad?]

"What's your name? How old are you? I've never heard your voice before. You sound young." She tilts her head to the side, and thin strands of white hair slide off her shoulder to caress her face. The sunlight filters in such a way that it only hits her, and to me she seemed like a broken angel.

There is silence, before I realize that she is waiting for my reply. Oddly flustered, I can't find any words. But she doesn't seem to care that I've returned to my mute state, as after a large stretch of quiet she begins to carry a conversation for the both of us.

"I've never met anyone back here. I live with my father, but he's always busy. He's the head chef of the village, and he's always cooking for the restaurant. Father's always tired. I think it's because I'm a bit of a hassle. I can't help out at the house or restaurant, and I think I remind him a lot of mother. I try to stay away from him, but I don't have any friends and I can't go out into the village without someone to help me, so I have to come here and think. This is the first time I've met a person here." She speaks of her life plainly. She doesn't pity herself, she simply sees her world as it is, to me that seemed unbearably sad. She paused, probably to give me an opening to speak up, but I stay silent. Her face twists into something similar to a rueful expression. "Have you ever thought for so long that your thoughts begin to mangle together? Like, your brain gets tired of coming up with new thoughts, so it takes a break and leaves you really confused? It's really strange. I'm glad you came here, it's nice to talk to people."

As she speaks my breathing quickens, and I fight the rising panic [and relief because she understands]. My hands begin to shake again and suddenly, I feel like I have to get away. But before I do-

"... It's Akumu."

Her face is blank for a moment before she remembers her previous question. Then she smiles, and I'm frozen again.

"It's nice to meet you, Akumu. My name is Seira."

.

Seira.

I'm sorry.

A/N: Sorry (the irony of the echo doesn't escape me), they just didn't want to meet. This chapter is super-crappy. UGH. I would like to apologize, I'm not actually a very good writer. And writing in the present tense is a bitch. Seriously. But it does add something. Or at least changes something. Also, in case you really haven't gotten it, every time there are [blah], that means she's thinking, both consciously and unconsciously. It's in place of the customary italicized stuff, and it's really just a stylistic choice.

I realize that the way I write isn't actually good writing, so if anyone could review to help me that would be awesome.

By the way, I have editing. I kind of gave up, and it probably shows.

If you noticed, the beginning thing says 'Fate' instead of 'Mistake.' This isn't a mistake; it's a change in theme. Every time the theme changes, so will that little bit in the beginning change. It'll be a clue for you guys what will happen in the chapter.

If you haven't noticed, Seira, and their relationship, is extremely important. So yeah. Watch out.

Until next time, in which our character realizes exactly what she has gotten herself into (finally). It's worse than she could have ever imagined.