False Advents (Chapter 1: Rumia):
When he came to, he found himself lying on a dirt patch, with towering groves of bamboo surrounding him from almost every cardinal direction. He immediately sat up and rubbed the back of his head. He could feel flakes of something other than dirt crumbling off of his hair. Flakes that he quickly recognized as coagulated blood.
"Head injuries," he thought, "Not ideal."
He racked his head for memories of what had happened, but nothing concrete would surface. All he got was fragmented memories regarding siblings, test subjects, and an accident. He couldn't even recall his name.
He checked around himself for anything that may trigger another memory, but to no avail. All he found was a simple steel katana that had been lying next to him, and a messed up tattoo on his upper right arm that read "N##-#3#L", or what he assumed to be those characters. Although he remembers little to nothing, the location that he was currently in gave him a sense of… familiarity. Something that he couldn't quite place his finger on…
He shook his head and picked up the katana. Despite his injury, his teal t-shirt and black shorts were still in great condition, and so were his sneakers. He picked himself up and began to walk towards a single general direction. He didn't know why, but his instincts told him that he wouldn't want to stay put.
After fifteen minutes of aimless wandering, he noticed that he was getting absolutely nowhere. Each grove simply led him to another grove, and another, and another. Each location looked nearly identical to one another, and any marks he made using the katana would disappear a mere two minutes after it was made. Although he didn't show it, he was slowly beginning to become peeved, and the feeling that he was constantly being stalked didn't help either.
About another fifty feet's distance, he noticed that the sky was getting gradually darker, which he found odd. On a hunch, he crept behind a wall of bamboo trees and waited for the strange darkness to pass by. He could smell the scent of stagnant blood drawing closer and closer…
"What are you hiding from?" a childish voice asked, "Perhaps… me?"
He immediately kicked off of a bamboo stalk and somersaulted through the air before landing on his feet a few meters away. He took a moment to check his calves and ankles to see whether he had sustained any injuries, and found none of the sort.
"Muscle memory, by the looks of things… That's convenient."
"Oh, did I give you a fright?"
The darkness that plagued the atmosphere slowly began to dissipate, revealing the form of whatever that being was. The being in question, however, was nothing like he'd imagined. She took the form of a little girl with short blonde hair and red eyes, wearing a black skirt and vest, along with a white blouse and what seems to be a red tie. Fixed onto the left side of her hair is an ornament of sorts which seems to give off an ominous feel.
He placed his left hand on the grip of the katana and kept his eyes on the individual. She didn't seem to have the incentive to make any sudden moves at the moment.
"State your name." he said, left hand still resting on the grip.
The girl processed his request and began to giggle in an almost maniacal manner.
"My name's Rumia, "Youkai of the Dusk"." She responded after calming down. "What's yours?"
"I can't remember."
"...Is that so~?"
He nodded.
Rumia looked down at his katana and smiled, "How about I give you a fighting chance?"
He narrowed his eyes, "...What do you mean?"
"You see, I'm a youkai. I eat humans, and you're a human. Ordinary humans can't win against youkai. But..." she pointed at his katana. "I'll let you get a single free hit in on me."
He continued to stare at the flesh-eating youkai with his hand still resting on the grip.
"Go on." She insisted. "Give it a go!"
He found it strange. Strange that someone would offer him the first strike using a lethal weapon. There must have been a catch.
"...Fine then. Close your eyes and cover your ears."
"Hm… alright." She did as he said.
Rumia closed her eyes and waited for him to strike. Fifteen seconds had passed, but the strike never came. The fifteen seconds became thirty, then sixty, then two minutes.
"That's strange..." she thought, "When's he going to strike?"
And then, how ironic it may be, it dawned on her.
She opened one of her eyes and looked around the premise. The human that she had originally planned to toy with was nowhere to be found.
She had once again been outsmarted.