Chapter 4: Framed

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☆*:.。.꒰ঌ💟໒꒱.。.:*☆

Warning: Short mention of Joker-like lips, worded in such a way the emphasis is on how one obtains such look

☆*:.。.꒰ঌ💟໒꒱ .。.:*☆
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Her cheeks blown up like a frog's and her arms held stiffly down in front of her, Chiyoko stormed onto the bridge. "They can stick there kindness where the sun doesn't shine."

She noticed Kenji nonchalantly leaning on the bars, staring at the river.

A grin spread across her face. "I'll show them I'm not kind."

A puff of smoke surrounded her and her kimono made place for a blue short-sleeved wrap-around dress. Her hair got more volume and her lips showed deep cuts in their corners.

She strode towards Kenji and asked for his attention.

"Excuse me. Am I pretty?????"

She stared psychopathically wide-eyed at Kenji, a grin emphasizing her strange lips and a knife ready behind her back to inflict him similar wounds.

Kenji focused on his own reflection. "Real beauty can't be seen with the eye, it can only be seen with the heart.

So instead of asking yourself if you look pretty, you should ask yourself if you are proud of how you lived your life so far. You should ask yourself if you can still look yourself in the eye.

And if you can't...

Know it's never too late to start over. It's never too late to learn from your mistakes and grow.

So let me ask you," he said as he invited her to look at herself in the river, "If you look at your reflection, are you happy with the soul behind those eyes?"

Chiyoko gazed at her reflection as she threw off her mask.

Am I proud of myself? Why wouldn't I? I mean... I'm great, aren't I? I'm fabulous. I'm powerful. Of course I like what I see....

Do I?

She snapped back to reality. "That's not the point," she hissed through her teeth as she clinged onto the knife, "the point is-"

Chiyoko looked around her. A bug flew against the lantern illuminating the otherwise deserted bridge.

"Where are you?????!!!!!!!!!"

🔹꒰ঌ😈໒꒱🔹

Chiyoko huffed as she stormed around like a gorilla whose banana was stolen.

"Hey you," she yelled at two hairy yokai chilling in the trees. "Did you see a human about this tall and this wide with a stupid expression on his face and hair like this?" she said while impersonating Kenji.

The yokai silently pointed at the direction Kenji went and Chiyoko stormed off.

"Whoo," said the darker yokai, "I don't want to be that human. She's scary..."

The lighter yokai nodded. "Oi," they said as their face turned ghostly white, "that purple cherry blossoms kimono... It's the 1 000 problems child!"

"That's the 1 000 problems child?!" Shivers ran through the darker yokai's spine.

🔹꒰ঌ😈໒꒱🔹
 
Having asked several yokai for more directions, Chiyoko arrived at an old, well-maintained house.

"He went in there," the last yokai she came across signed. "The young human lives with an old one," they said, "so don't scare the wrong one."

Chiyoko huffed as she crossed her arms. "I scare whoever I want."

She then stormed into the house.

🔹꒰ঌ😈໒꒱🔹

It was already passed bedtime and the house was shrouded in darkness.

Chiyoko stalked through every room.

The more she saw of the house, the more she felt like being thrown back to the previous century. The place was meticulously kept: not a speck of dust to be found, but everything was put exactly where it had been for the last 50 years. The most recent additions seemed to be picture frames placed at the altar.

Chiyoko examined them carefully. On the very top of the altar stood a tall photograph of an old man dressed in a business suit, his stern gaze looked down upon anyone praying in front of the altar. He was offered flowers, rice and incense, the higher the quality, the better it seemed to be.

Somewhere below all the grandeur stood two more photographs, shoved away to the side. A worn silk rose and old candy bars lay in front of the photographs of a man and a woman. Both couldn't have been older than 40, their gazes were soft and kind, and their casual clothes formed a stark contrast with the suit of the old man on top.

You clearly see who the favourite is... Chiyoko thought. I wonder if I could somehow use...

A puff of smoke surrounded Chiyoko. Her kimono changed into more casual clothes, her nose became ticker, her eyes smaller and her loose hair turned into an up-do.

She picked up the photograph of the woman and smiled at her reflection in the frame.

The spitting image, even if I say so myself.

A thunderous laugh escaped her thickened lips as her reflection distorted.

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