A woman, dressed in the silky embrace of a black Kimono that had beautiful patterns made of red threads weaved all around the robe. She was holding a white umbrella made from oil paper that had blue flowers painted over the edge.
The flowers looked so real that they gave off the illusion of moving with the flow of the wind. With the black nail polish on her toes and fingers and the way she dressed, the woman gave off the aura of someone from a wealthy traditional Japanese family.
With each step her pale white feet took, the sound of her zori sandals striking against the scorched ground reverberated through the area. Every step she took was unhurried and deliberate.
The face of the woman was hidden behind the magical umbrella which even when the fire from the surroundings touched it, they would fall off it as they were drops of water.
Crossing the umbrella, the wisps of flame fell on the woman's kimono and instantly started burning them. But as soon as those flames started to burn, living threads slithered from the burnt patch, weaving the Kimono back to its prime state.
She did not stop.
Her steps did not falter.
And in response, the debris around her moved away, as if clearing way for her to walk on.
With each step she took, a painful groaning seemingly belonging to a man echoed behind her. Soon groans turned into screams of pain and agony.
With a dull thud, a pair of charred, bloodied legs came into view. Their owner remained hidden behind the mysterious woman, seemingly dragged by something as the distance between them remained fixed.
The flames had melted patches of skin on the legs and being dragged through the hot and uneven ground made him bear an unimaginable amount of pain.
And yet, the woman remained impassive to his screams, she acted as if she was not even hearing them.
The woman continued to walk straight towards what was left of the dining hall of the restaurant.
Arriving in the center of the hall, she paused. Her pale, slightly pointed ears twitched as she caught the faint sound of someone breathing.
Despite the distance, she managed to pick up the sound as if that person was right beside her. The breath was fragile and labored even though it seemed rhythmic.
Even then, instead of immediately rushing to look for the only 'survivor' she found in this place beside the man behind her, the woman twirled on the heels of her sandal and slowly, deliberately took in the aftermath of the destruction around her.
The moon was already close to the peak in the sky, its pale light shone on her glittering white umbrella.
The wooden walls, painted with beautiful scenes, had collapsed under their own weight, still burning from the ever-growing fire.
She could see some charred corpses pinned under these broken walls. Some were missing limbs or entire sections of their body.
Mercy, if it existed here, was reserved for those who perished with a full corpse. The greatest luxury in this place was given to those who were killed insistently, feeling no pain.
After a quick glance, the woman moved once more. She turned around, and her eyes finally landed on the person behind her, acknowledging their presence.
Behind her was a man who could be easily confused for another charred corpse if not for his chest heaving up and down, and his bloodshot eyes.
Although his expansive suit and shoes had been through a lot of disasters, this man was, without doubt, the same person who was thrown out of the restaurant, the same man who was responsible for the destruction around them.
" Cough! Pl… please spare me! Please don't kill me…" The man begged, his words wet, gurgling, as blood slipped from his cracked lips. He would have knelt before the woman if not for an unknown force holding him.
Tears of regret streamed down his face as he continued to grovel
His reaction was normal when he realized that the woman before him was anything but normal, after all with a simple wave of her hand he was suspended into the air by an invisible force dragging him around the destruction he had caused for some unknown reason.
The woman looked away from the man without paying attention to his pleas. She turned to look in the direction of that faint, labored breathing she heard before. As she continued to walk, the screams behind her resumed once more.
"You Bitc#! No matter who you are, you will die the worst— Augckk!" realizing he had no hopes of surviving and feeling the pain increasing, the man spewed out all his hidden anger and hatred towards the woman.
His words did not shake the woman in the slightest. She simply snapped her fingers. He choked, blood and broken teeth forced down his throat by the same invisible force that now sealed his lips shut.
…
Somewhere in the wreckage, inside the only place that was not destroyed by the blast but the aftermath of the explosion.
Alvin woke up with a violent jerk. That simple action caused him to almost yell in pain but held it inside.
Feeling something, he followed his instincts and turned his head to the side before coughing a mouthful of blood instead of sitting up.
Pain. Blinding. Merciless. It crashed into his skull as if someone had stabbed a nail in his head. His ears kept ringing, drowning everything but the pounding of his heart.
Alvin had no idea where he was, or what he was doing before. The only thing he could feel was the stabbing pain in his head.
Ignoring the pain, he tried to open his eyes and look around, but his vision was blurry.
All he could see were—vague shapes—orange and brown hues, faint sparks dancing in the air.
The panic he had forced down, started to resurface.
"Huff—huff!" Alvin gasped for breath, his breathing was shallow and strained.
He wanted to move, to make sense of where he was, but his body refused. 'What's happening? Where am I? Why can't I feel my legs…?'
Panic surged. His hands felt cold, his breathing grew faster. Alvin had to bite his cracked lips to calm himself. It took all of his willpower but the young man managed to calm down.
Once panic faded, he felt it—a cold, wet sensation pooling around him.
Alvin lowered his shaky gaze, his heartbeat thundering in his chest.
Slowly, his senses sharpened, the ringing dulled, and his vision started to clear. As the fog in his mind lifted, dread washed over him once more.
"Wha—" Alvin caught the sight of a hazy blood-red color on the color and froze. Though his vision had not fully returned, he could make out of some things.
He kept his head lowered, staring at something for a few seconds before looking around. His gaze darted around the room, seeing something familiar, something clicked in his mind and familiar memories started to pour inside his mind one after one.
There it was, in the corner: the garlic bread Rin had given him.
Dusty, crushed, lying along with shards of glass. The sight struck him harder than the pain in his head.
Alvin realized the situation he was in, and with realization came despair.