Sparks of lightning danced through the dark alley, searing through the concrete wall with their heat. She watched the show with vapid interest, staring more intently at the moon above. The sun had long set, leaving the bustling city in an eerie silence. Now, the only people that wandered the streets were those without good intentions, scheming and calculating their way to the top.
She was no different. Despite her small stature, anyone could smell the metallic scent of blood if they wandered too close. And no teenager – no sane one – owned those dull eyes. It was a stark contrast to her vibrant and childish colors, stylish clothes adorned with splashes of neon green and blue. Perhaps it was meant to disguise her true nature. After all, if walking around in broad daylight, no one would suspect that she was a cold-blooded killer.
Yet, here she was. Sitting atop a bloodied body, face torn beyond recognition. The hair of the victim had fallen off in clumps, if it wasn't already turned to ash. Most of their limbs were either mutilated or strewn about, with organs pooling out onto the cold, concrete floor.
The killer was a teenage girl who could not be older than sixteen. She did not seem mortified at her bloodstained clothes and not a hint of guilt was present on her face. Rather, it was schooled into an expression that was seemingly devoid of emotion, if a bit contemplative.
It wasn't always like this. Once upon a time, she was an innocent child who laughed and cried like everyone else. Her parents were loving, if a little absent from her life. They had sent her to a city of wonder and promise, hopeful that it would nurture her talents and skills.
Indeed, the city had promised this child the world. She was only six when they approached her, malicious intent hidden behind kind smiles and praises.
"Mikoto-chan," They'd chanted. "Look at them! They're suffering!" It was true. Some kids, perhaps a few years older than her, were struggling to walk. They lumbered along a bar, agony evident in their expressions.
"Why?" She had asked. "Why are they suffering?" They had done nothing wrong, nothing to deserve that pain. So, why were they suffering?
"Because they were born with it." That was the researchers' simple response. It was a genetic, incurable disease that they were born with. And so, they suffered.
"Why?" She asked again. She didn't understand. Why are they being punished if they were born with it? That was… unfair.
"The world is an unfair place, Mikoto-chan." Their words had been laced with sadness and pity, "This is just one example of it."
She frowned when she heard this. In a child's mind, that was an unacceptable response. A game cannot be unfair. Why should the world be unfair? Why must they suffer? So she began to rebuke them, "But – "
They did not let her, "That's why we came to you, Mikoto-chan. This world is an unfair place, but you can make it fair." If she was just a little older, perhaps this wouldn't have worked. But they knew that, too. And because she was six, she grabbed the bait.
"What do you mean?" Her brows were furrowed in confusion, "How can I make it fair?"
Hook, line, and sinker. The researchers had to hide their smiles, "Well, in comparison to those boys, you had won the genetic lottery. You are an unfair consequence of this world, too. However, because of that, you can make it fair. Have you heard of gods before?"
Her head was cocked in confusion. Gods… this was a city of science. Gods did not exist. Even at such an early age, she knew this. However, gods were indeed commonplace in other parts of the world, even in secular countries like Japan. So she nodded.
"You have the potential to become a god. A god – Level 6 – can change the world at their whim. If you become a god, you can make this world fair. Those boys, no one, would ever have to suffer unfairly again."
At the time, she was only Level 1, capable of creating small sparks of light under her sheets at night. She couldn't even begin to comprehend what a Level 6 would be capable of. However, those adults had said she could and she knew she could trust adults.
So she agreed.
And so they twisted and molded her until she was completely unrecognizable, playful smiles and murderous rage – a puppet for them to use.
Today marks her fourteenth birthday. Yet it certainly lacks the festive mood associated with birthdays when one considers the scenery. Even so, a smile slowly spread across her face, replacing the blank expression she previously donned. Snapping, she bent the lightning to dance once more, blue light illuminating an ashen face that had long gone cold.
"Here's to my fourteenth birthday, sister!"
…
A/N:
Two years later…
The Jinx vibes are strong… can you guess who my favorite character from Arcane was? As for this entire story, I have a general plot in my head but I'm pulling things out of my ass most of the time so don't expect those ultra-high quality fanfics that are basically books.
There might be MisaMisa subtones, but romance isn't the goal. Maybe, if I ever reach the end, there might be an implication. But that's where it ends.
Final thing: I'm debating on social media promotion, more for my art than anything else. Thoughts?