Act One, END

So wise so young, they say, do never live long

Different

While other children in general were made of hopes and dreams and a childhood (that should be) free from the world's bitter truths, you were made of resentment, an ill-fated path, and death biding its time in every step of your way.

Well, aside from being reborn as Amanai freaking Riko in a universe packed with sorcerers and curses and magic altogether, you were positive that most kids of your age weren't having an existential crisis of being cast as a side character who was marked to succumb to their destiny.

The only thing you had in common with the regular folk was an on-the-spot reaction to the news of your parents' passing; breaking in tears like a typical child would.

Thankfully you still have some semblance of normalcy left.

But it was easily shattered when a woman— a familiar face from the group earlier who had no concept of privacy and continued hogging your face until the doctor drove these fanatics away— let herself in your room. Sporting a dark wavy hair with noticeable gray streaks on, she donned a rich blue dress cut below the knees and a seemingly kind upcurl of her lips. She walked towards your bed and sat at the nearby chair, all the while you suspiciously eyed her.

"How are you feeling?"

"Great. What do you think?"

She was visibly taken aback at the sarcastic undertone, not anticipating such an answer from a literal four year old. "I, ah..." Her sentence trailed off in quiet unsureness.

She would have understood if you were throwing a wild fit instead, a sobbing mess who's pleading for their dead parents back, lest the hospital staff had the actual guts to explain to a child how they were the sole survivor of the incident, that their parents were never going to tuck them into bed every night ever again.

Weird kid.

"I'm sorry for what happened to your parents," she managed to continue after the awkward pause, putting an intended comforting hand over yours.

You cringed and pried away from the contact in an instant. "Yeah, who are you?"

This was the second time she drew back at your tone— too confrontational for a child, she noted. The wrinkles on her forehead became much more prominent. Granted, it was purely reasonable for you to be on guard around strangers. Maybe this was your coping mechanism to the terrible experience, maybe you were purposely being difficult just because, or maybe the accident has hit your head so hard that it rewired the chemical flow and pattern in your brain.

Weird kid.

Despite your snappy responses, she couldn't falter now. Her duty was top priority.

"My name is Kuroi Arisu," she began with utmost patience, "I'm a close friend of your parents, specifically Hisako." Lowering her head, Arisu's eyes became soft as she chose her words. "She was a good woman, Riko. A good mother. And she loved both you and Reiji so dearly. It must be really hard right now, but I want you to know that we're here for you. You're not alone in this."

Arisu could tell your squint was getting more distrustful by the second that she would have presumed you were trying to blow her up using your imagination.

Soon you diverted your attention away from her and her obviously scripted remark, however the burning frustration lingered in your gaze. You gripped the blanket, crumpling the fabric as your frown deepened.

What did you know about Amanai Riko again?

For starters, she was a figment of somebody else's writing.