[MaraTwasHere]

“Nagareteku toki no naka de demo kedarusa ga hora guruguru mawatte Watashi kara hanareru kokoro mo mienai wa sou shiranai…” A small, yet firm voice sung out into the black sky, where the stars bled away into night’s darkest inky blackness before light could throw it’s first rays over the east horizon. Up on higher ground, walked the girl of this world along a worn dirt path too close to the edge. The path that was taken by the villagers who resided far below, their hay roofs of their huts having a nostalgic, missed, shine in the darkness. Eiko had slaved to create this world, performing one too many tasks for the world bearer, minogame,  to create this haven of ancientness. It had been many centuries, and her influence over things given to her by minogame helped keep this land as it should–feudal.

“jibun kara ugoku koto mo naku toki no sukima ni nagasare tsuzukete shiranai wa mawari no koto nado watashi wa watashi sore dake...” The world, though quite new, looked just as it did before the waves of time came to wash it all away with nuclear bombs, destroying the city for it to become anew with tall sky scrapers and fast moving cars. It was so loud no one ever thought to think of how traditional things once were; how you’d make your food from scratch everyday, watch the fisherman go out to the waters to bring home the village’s food. How all the village children would run around barefooted playing Kakurenbo (hide and seek) or Kagome, Kagome. Eiko had missed these times as they were like home, but there was still something missing. The reason why she had minogame create this world…for the Kindan no yōkai. 

Eiko stopped at the end of the path where rocks were stacked on one and the other in a pattern of largest of a boulder to a pebble. Eiko reached into her floral and black kimono’s long sleeve to retrieve a straw, green dyed doll with a single red thread tied around it’s left arm. Slowly, watching with those oh so large eyes, Eiko’s porcelain colored fingers reached for one of the loose ends to pull it free. The thread caught in the breeze flying back behind her. It landed against a concrete building as the world of the lovely feudal era dripped away like runny paint from a picture. The soft greens and velvety black with the luminescent bright moon fell away to the crude grays and smokey black, the orange lights from street signs and the bustle of people as they pushed by the black haired girl who nearly blended with their black coats. It was almost as if no one saw her. But when her eyes flashed a brilliant red in the orange lighting as she turned her head people gave her a wide girth around her. “I see you.” She murmured feeling her next ‘victim’.