Hiyori was a demon. He was a son of the shadows. His kind was feared in all the land, all across the vast continent that separates the east and the west. In the old days, they were a powerful race, able to emit the darkest aura enough to disintegrate a mere mortal. They had the most powerful leader ever to exist in their realm, so to say. He was Hiyori's father; the Lord of the Dusk. They were not the heartless and rabid killer like most humans think they are although they still are as loyal to their offerings. They will never hurt a human without suitable reason and unless provoked but this is arguable as some demons sometimes exhibit the feared malevolence without reason.
They were malevolent when it comes to fighting, feared by the bravest warriors. The humans believe they exist and sometimes, a demon would materialize in front of a mortal just for entertainment, usually leading to the untimely death of the unlucky mortal due to mental breakdown. Though those cases only occurred long before Hiyori's father reigned.
A mortal by the name of Miharu was fetching water by a lake when she stepped into demon territory without knowing. She was without charm at that time and was half-aware of the place. She never went this far out from the village. The age-old well in the central circle was dry for days and their stock of drinking water was slowly going.
Hiyori was lounging in a willow tree by the bank when its dark charred leaves began to turn a shade of green and were starting to go upright. In one swift motion, he was up and traced the cause of the sudden health the tree was showcasing.
Then he saw her.
Miharu stooped down and touched the lip of the jar into the crystalline waters of the river and lingered for a few minutes before lifting filled jar. She set the jar aside and dipped her hands on the river to rid them of the gravelly touch the trail caused. She stood up, her dress dirty with mud. Before she can haul the jar over her shoulders, she froze. She literally froze. She could not feel her hands or her feet. She was numb all over and straight ahead, seemingly walking on water, is a figure.
It was dark and she could not make out details. The figure was approaching in a painstakingly slow pace, like it was intending to make her wait. Suddenly she felt pain in every part of her body, her legs, her wrists, her hands, her knees, her head. And inside of her too, if she could move, she would've doubled-over to clutch her stomach because of a searing pain inside. It quickly spread to her chest area and now she feels a burning sensation enveloping her. Her lungs seemed to need more air than normal and he was surprised she hasn't blacked-out of the pain yet.
Suddenly he was in front of her, his wild charcoal eyes staring directly into her brown ones. If she could scream at that moment, her lungs would've given out.
"Why would a mortal dare step on this damned land?"
His voice was cold and velvety, like delicate silverware and sounded vaguely like thunder echoing in a tunnel, a shiver ran down her spine. His presence didn't feel normal. She was sure he wasn't human. She looked at him. His face is as white as snow; jet-black hair framing his soft yet quite angular face, the contrast was startling even for her, his features were beautiful. He was beautiful. But he seemed to emit a very dark aura all around him that she considered repulsive.
The pain intensified as he approached her and she heard herself whimper.
A sound came out. Maybe she could talk.
"Wh-what are you?" She tried. Her voice came out hoarse and dry and it pained her to produce the sounds. She had a feeling she knew what he was but brushed off the thought.
The man raised his eyebrow at her query but maintained a steady gaze. He lifted up one defined hand and Miharu saw a mark on his forearm, something like a star with a line across. His hand hovered above her shoulder and she felt all the pain concentrated there. Biting her lip, she chose not to show any sign of pain possible.
He brought down his hand and Miharuswore it was the most excruciating pain she ever felt in her life. She came down gasping on all fours and can't even trace where the pain is radiating from. Her eyes stung with held tears and watched as the first drop came down on the muddy ground.
"You know what happens to humans who think they're so high they end up in enemy territory?" He asked, stooping down to her.
"You're a…a d-demon." She said. She was now sure of it. Terror and dread invaded her mind and her heart raced at the thought. She was going to die.
"Took you that long to figure out?"
She tried standing up but fell to her knees quickly, the pain going back and flooding her senses with nothing but a burning sensation. She hears him laugh and suddenly, she was standing, face-to-face with the demon.
"This will be quick. Your soul will be among the ones before you." He whispered as he tipped her head.
"I'm an exception. I didn't know this land was yours." She managed.
The demon considered this for a moment. But he wasn't easily fooled.
"It's true. I-I came down here to fetch water for our family. I haven't been in this part of the village, I have no clue it was part of your territory." She said as quickly as she can. She knew it was hopeless but she had to try.
"Ignorance will kill you then."
Before he could do whatever he does to take a soul, Miharu mustered all her strength in one quick blow to the demon's chest and ran off into the clearing, leaving the demon unnerved and standing still in her wake, her jar of water lay untouched by the lake.
It was pretty heroic and brave of Miharu to do that, knowing that she has a chance of survival the size of a grain of rice. She was claimed to be the first surviving victim on such an encounter without catastrophic attitude of Miharu was taught to us in study sessions as the ideal attitude and characteristic of a strong and independent lady, a person we girls should look up to and want to be when we grow up.
I was never an ideal Miharu right from the start. I was always the subject of bullying and abuse by my classmates. I never tried to stand up for myself. My mom always told me to not fight fire with fire, though I think I might've overlooked the advice.
The Miharuian festival was just round the corner. It's a festival celebrated every 4 months in honor of the tragic lovers where the elder villagers commemorate the days of the lover's escapes. This is what I kind of dislike about our village; it revolves around a mere myth. I never looked forward to this event, because it seemed like an absolute joke. The girls in the village would then wear their best dresses and shiniest shoes to appeal to the crowd as the one closely resembling Miharu. It was tradition to choose a maiden who would be the modern persona of Miharu for the night.
It was merriment, of course, but I still dread the event. Every time I attend it and watch the people relive the very parts of the story, I feel a cold sensation in my gut. Like the time for the festival unease me and gives me this uncertain feeling.
I also notice them staring at me. I would walk into a store on a festival night, storekeepers and customers take turns looking at me. Are my clothes not appropriate for the festival? I couldn't read their expressions but I was always uneasy. I've got a way of knowing when I was being talked about, like how I feel a tug in my gut.
That's why I avoid going out during festival nights. My mother didn't say anything about it. I figured she understands what I feel. She keeps silent whenever I tried to ask if she knew why they were acting that way towards me.
This night was not like before and I couldn't just skip the festival because it was our street's turn to present its maidens before the awaiting crowd. That includes me especially now that I am very close to age. Sixteen seasons of life is required to make a full candidate for this event, I'm turning sixteen a month before the next festival which makes me legible to join, much to my chagrin.
My mother prepared the best dress we have in our little cottage. It was a mulberry-laced blouse with a traditional black bodice of silver loopholes. The sleeves were ballooned to puff out a little and patterned with embroidered forget-me-nots. The full skirt was cotton-weaved and maroon. It was a plain dress fit for a plain household.
I was not excited for this occasion unlike many girls in the village.
"You only have to go through this twice," My mother said. "You'll be able to pull it off. The second time, I'll be buying you the best dress we can." She tugged at the threads of the bodice and I gasped at the last tug. I preferred our normal peasant dresses. I can run around in them for hours without having to loosen anything. The bodice seems to prohibit me from breathing and resigned my stomach somewhere between my kidneys and liver.
"You will wear the most beautiful dress in the next festival." She looked at me with warm eyes.
I can hear the doubt in her voice but I was determined not to look weak in front of her. We were not well off in that aspect of our lives. My father died years ago leaving us with no more than a loaf of bread to live off of.
"I can always wear this again. It's not like this event can lift us from these hardships." I assured her. I saw her shook her head and I asked what bothered her. I find it unusual that my mother would think highly of the event.
"Just promise me not to cause something." She sighed.
I was taken aback with what she said. I have no idea what she was talking about but I felt a little compelled to say something in my defense.
It's true that I sometimes cause something like people gasping, especially the old ones, when they first see me. Gradually, the noise will die and I can walk around normally again. I have no idea what was wrong with me and I sometimes find myself staring at the small looking glass at home but finding nothing unusual. It was the same green eyes and golden hair. The same stern lips and full cheeks. What was wrong?
Soon the dress was on me, fitting perfectly as though it was tailored to just fit my body. I never appreciated the clothing before and looked more of it as a family heirloom rather than a festive dress. The more I look at it now, contrasting my fair skin and clinging to my body, I couldn't help but feel beautiful.
"Miyu, it's the first time in twenty-five years that that dress has been worn again," she said.
I looked at her and smiled. "I hope I give justice to it."
She smiled back at me and clasped her hands together. "Of course."
The plaza was buzzing with anticipation as the elders sat in a semicircle around a pit—for the campfire—probably discussing the story to be told later in the night. I saw some familiar faces, all of which revived memories I wanted to forget. I was holding my mother's hand because the stares were enough to strike a nerve. Wherever I pass, I would notice them staring then stumping back in whispers and chats, still looking at me from head to toe.
I was getting anxious of all the unwanted attention and I wanted to divert them desperately to anything, anyone and anywhere else.
Then we were called out, asked to stand in the front of the crowd behind the campfire. The people huddled together and came as close as they were allowed. I stood beside Effie, a blonde and slender teen who I met in my history session. She nudged my elbow and winked at me. I tried to do the same, but in vain.
There were seven of us, three of whom I've never saw before. Maybe they were from the next row of houses, I was not sure. We were all dressed as elegantly as possible although most of them managed to outshine our generation-old attire easily.
"A heartbeat more and we'll be starting the story." Cracked an elder. The chatter grew quieter in anticipation. I watched the flames dance in an almost too wild manner. I suddenly became very much aware of the roughness of some parts of my dress as it brushes against my skin.
"It was a very long time ago. The ages of ancients. The time when everybody lives in fear of unknown entities. There was born a story of undefined origins. A story which conquered both heaven and hell, all for the sole purpose of uniting them as one. To eradicate margins and limitations and for every creature to roam freely, the purpose was clear…"
I knew then that there was no going back. I would have to endure the night and go on with the event without any complaints. I would have to relish the story as any normal maiden would.
But there was a thought inside my head all night. Something I did not know where from but it was there nonetheless.
I was not any normal maiden.
