Chapter 1
He/ she woke up to the feeling of someone putting a wet towel over his/her forehead. He/she once again felt her/his consciousness start to fade away, but he/she felt warm at the same time. It has been a long time since he/she had felt the kind and caring hands of those who cared for him/her, in both of his/her lives.
Wait.
She/he immediately try to open her/his eyes. Something wasn't right. Since when did Hell allow for luxuries?
Slowly, she/he forced his/her eyes open. At the same time, the woman kneeling by Alma's bedside gave a startled cry and jerked her hands away.
The woman carried no weapons and displayed no visible signs of being able to even use a weapon. She wore a beautiful crimson kimono covered in flowers of all kinds and her hair was tied into a beautiful knot behind her head, secured by an elegant hairpin.
Alma immediately tried to get away from her, but found that he/she couldn't. Her/his body would not allow her/him to.
So he/she did his/her best to rasp out, "Who are you?"
The woman smiled softly. And then said something in a different language that Alma could not understand.
Alma tilted his/her head. The woman frowned, but then widened her eyes and smiled again.
The woman, no, girl, for on closer inspection appeared to be only around Alma's age, said, "You, alright?" in broken English.
This time, it was Alma's eyes that widened. He/she clutched the blanket even closer to his/her body, "What do you want?"
The girl looked surprised, but then quickly shook her head and said, "Please wait," in English. Then, she scurried out of the room.
Alma blinked. The girl was certainly... interesting. Alma then quickly shook himself/herself out of the stupor. First he/she had to figure out where the heck was she/he.
She/he started taking in the room's details. The most noticeable feature was the sunlight. Apparently, there were two exits. One, the one the girl used to leave, presumably led to the rest of the house. The other one though, led outside.
That door was currently opened all the way, allowing the sunset, or was it sunrise, to penetrate the room, bathing it in a soft red/orange light.
"Pretty, isn't it?" asked a feminine and delicate voice that seems to be right behind Alma.
Three things happened almost simultaneously in the next three seconds. First, Alma turned around with surprising speed. Second, her/his hands snapped straight towards the person's neck and started squeezing. And lastly, the person started choking.
Alma barked, "Who are you!" The woman who was still choking, looked at her/him with fear in her eyes. Alma glared back and refused to let go.
"Sho -Shoko," the woman rasped. Alma slowly started removing her/his fingers until the woman was free, but did not stop glaring even when the woman was heaving on the floor.
The woman dressed similarly to the previous girl, elegant kimono, tied up hair and had similar facial features.
Alma waited till she finished catching her breath. When she was done, Alma asked, "Where am I?"
The woman surprisingly did not glare at her/him with hatred. She only looked at her/him with pity and understanding.
She replied softly in English, "My name is Hanabaki Shoko. You are currently residing in our village's main house. My daughter, Mikoto, found you floating in the river three mornings ago. She dragged you out and have been helping me nurse you back to life these past few days."
Alma blinked. That... was a lot to take in all at once. First of all, he should be dead! Second of all, how did he end up in a strange foreign country? She/he glared at his hands, trying to wrap his/her head around her/his predicament. Only to stop and blink again.
His hands were tiny. No, they were the hands of a child. What the hell was going on!
She/he started shaking, "Bring me a mirror."
Shoko raised an elegant eyebrow, but she walked over to a dresser tucked in a corner of the room and returned with a beautifully decorated hand mirror. Alma snatched it out of her hands and stared at her/his own reflection.
He, no she, was shocked. The person in the mirror looking back at him was a girl, a young one. She looked around seven years old with medium length blond hair and beautiful cornflower blue eyes.
Alma examined his, no her, new face and found it strangely familiar. She couldn't remember properly, but she was almost certain that this was her face before dying for the first time.
She looked closer. Even the scar that should've ran across her nose was gone. Just like how it was before the Second Exorcist Project. Yes, she was certain now. This was the face she was born with, albeit one far younger than her limited memory could remember.
She then turned back towards the woman who only smiled politely at her.
Alma slowly sank back under the covers, turning away from the woman, no, Shoko in the process. She had a lot of things to ponder over.
