If you read the original story, previously under the title Sorrows of Mortality, you will know that it was horrendous. I completely rewrote it, keeping only the very general main premise of the story, so I hope you enjoy this prologue of the new and improved version! Thanks Tim for helping me in my frustration, I love you!
In the later months of the year 1872, a mysterious illness began plaguing the residents of small villages outside Nagasaki. Those that knew of its existence spoke of a few young scientists, who, in an attempt to find cures for old diseases, had created a new one. Neither the rumor nor news of the disease spread, however. As if determined to remain a silent and mysterious killer, the illness snuffed out the lives of all that came near its victims, both living and dead. Whole villages were taken, suffering for a short time before falling dead from the illness, only to be followed a short while later by their loved ones.
For five years, the disease surged north, little to no news reaching the rest of Japan. Demon-like, the nameless killer devoured humans. There was nearly no hope for those who were claimed by it; man and beast alike were resigned to their suffering, quickly giving up any fighting. For some, the suffering was so great that they would kill themselves rather than be tortured for another hour. It became so bad that people began to speak of invisible demons destroying them, rather than a virus.
Indeed, for the next two years, though the sickness continued to spread north, it began to slow. As if its hunger had been sated, it began infecting less and less people, and some even managed to fight it. By 1877, it killed only enough to ensure that it had not been defeated utterly. It had reached only as far as Kyoto before its advance had slowed to a crawl.
Word of it had finally managed to break through the barriers of infection and to the rest of Japan, but it hardly seemed necessary any more. Instead of guarding against it, Japan rejoiced its "defeat." By 1878, the demonic killer seemed to have died out utterly, and it was forgotten by the people. The villages destroyed by it were abandoned, forgotten as well. All attempts to create a cure were abandoned. Life went on as it should have, the people living in blissful peace.
But, esteemed reader, would I, the author, have gone through such pains to describe these events to you if they were to be of no significance later? No, these demons only waited in Hell, biding their time…