3: Cold Snow [Aya]

Since I was young, I’ve been told how lucky I was.

That I was fortunate to be living within Sector Three, far away from the dangers that lurked Outside the Wall. And yet, despite the so-called safe life I was supposed to have - my bedtime stories nonetheless consisted of horrors that scarred a child’s mind, rather than the fairy tale stuff my friends were told.

I wasn’t allowed to know the luxury of happy ending stories nor was I permitted to even think that there was anything but scary stuff outside, just waiting to get their claws on my body - my Soul. That's why the stories mostly consisted of human-eating demons - the depth of its sheer terror and tragedy was meant to deter me from making the same stupid mistakes as the characters in the story did.

Their failure was expected to be a lesson for me, to be soaked in as a piece of valuable information. In our clan, the Hyuga, failure was never accepted nor forgiven.

No matter the reason - no matter their standing in the clan.

A day after I turned four, my father brought me with them to bear witness to what happened to those who broke the clan laws. The man, who was dragged to stand in front of the Council, couldn’t have been older than somewhere in his mid-twenties. He had messy dark hair and looked strangely pale, his face was illustrated with fear of what he’d gone through or seen.

Back then, I was unaware that it could’ve been better described as a fear of death. He was screaming and thrashing against his captors, begging for mercy. His words fell on the deaf ears, and when I glanced around at the faces of my fellow clansmen, I saw nothing but cold disgust on their faces.

Someone’s hand grasped tightly onto mine, nearly startling me. But when I looked up, I saw the reassuring face of my honorable older brother of five years, Kyoyasu, smiling down at me. I remember staring up at him with curiosity and fear, recalling the screams I’d heard the last time.

The last time I wasn’t allowed to join in with the adults, and I was starting to regret not protesting more. I wanted to join the other kids playing out in the garden, blissfully unaware of what took place in this Hall. Until the sudden screams that no one else seemed to mind caught their attention. I knew that the Hall was mostly used for training purposes as it was large enough to inhabit nearly a hundred people, if not more.

But not once did I imagine a scene like this.

“Don’t look away, Aya,” my brother’s light amber-brown eyes, the same shade as my own, were glued on our father’s back. His words felt steady and unafraid, effectively calming me.

My brother was tall for his age, and it often made me feel like an ant in comparison.

His ear-length golden brown hair was combed neatly against his scalp, not an inch out of place. My brother was an image of a perfectionist, at least according to our mother, who noted it with a hint of sadness in her quiet voice.

Saying how a nine-year-old boy (her most precious child out of four kids) wasn’t supposed to be so prim and proper and that this should be a time for him to enjoy his childhood. Rather than already being forced to learn politics, etiquette, weaponry, and preparing to one day take over as the Head. Even the way he speaks was like an old man talking (something I found both funny and weird).

“Father will be disappointed if you do,” my brother said, and just for a second, his grip tightened on my hand.

And I didn’t.

Not even as our father approached the man, steps steady and intimidatingly confident, not once faltering. One could feel authority and sense irrefutable power in him.

However, I couldn’t see my father's face, not from where we stood. But it must have been frightening for as the man ceased his thrashing and in an instant: he was reduced to a sobbing, crying mass of a once-proud Hyuga Clan member. I never learned his name, not even as I watched my father beheading him with one sharp movement.

Strangely, I cannot remember if our mother was present that day or not.

It was the first death I witnessed and it would never fade from my memory. No matter how hard I tried - a small part of me still blames my father for showing a four-year-old child such cruelty and expected me to understand the reasoning behind it (every child in the Hyuga Clan was shown their heritage and purpose of existing fairly early; our opinions and protests fell to the deaf ears).

I flinched as his head rolled towards us.

His lifeless, wide-open eyes were staring at me in an accusing way: the mere memory of it brought on some horrible nightmares for the next several years until something much worse chased it away. The man’s body collapsed against the ground with a loud thud, and yet, somehow I managed to resist the urge not to look away - not to throw up.

Father, I remember, looked impressed.

He even gave me a small nod and a pat on the head as he passed us, “That’s my daughter.” It was the biggest compliment we could get from our father; because this showed him that we understood what being a Hyuga meant. It emphasized the purpose of our existence. “You’ve made your clan proud.”

Perhaps, that was the reason why I wasn’t frightened at the prospect of cold snow falling in the middle of a hot, burning July.

This happened roughly six months after the day I first witnessed death taking a life, even though it was through my father’s hand. My mother had taken me out for a play date with several children of her friends, most of them were outsiders to the Hyuga Clan.

We had gone to a nearby park, one I liked a lot since it was the only place I could go that held my father’s approval. Speaking of which, this outing mainly was to make my mother happy since she hadn’t been overly pleased with his sudden decision to let me witness death.

I vaguely remembered hearing them arguing, when they thought that no one was around before he allowed her to give me something my oldest brother lacked - a chance at a normal childhood.

At first, I didn’t even realize that something was wrong, not until someone nudged me and excitedly pointed at the previously warm blue sky.

Blinking, I turned my attention away from the messy sandcastle I’d been building with two other kids. My eyes widened at the abnormal cold snow falling down in the middle of a hot summer. According to my mother, it was one of the hottest summers in the last ten years or so.

My tiny body froze as I stared at the sight, unable to do anything other than simply watch and soak in the fact that it was snowing. Even when screams filled the area or as my mother scrambled to pick me up and hurried away, shouting something I couldn’t comprehend as my attention was solely on the white sky.

I opened my palm to allow a tiny snowflake to fall on it, finding myself completely entranced by the phenomenon. It floated on my palm a bit before it melted into the smallest lakes I’ve seen. A bubble of laughter escaped from my lips, wanting to catch as many snowflakes as I could but found myself restricted by my mother.

If I hadn’t been so intrigued, I might have realized more of what was going on around me on that day - that something far more sinister than snow falling during July - was taking place in the Nation that day…and that was the day when my story truly began.

Because that was when I first saw demonic presences that lurked in our world, hidden from people without Sight. Now that I think back, the ability to see the Creatures of the Netherworld started with this snow and witnessing a figure taking shape in the middle of this snowstorm. It watched us with that twisted, beautiful smile on her cold face. The woman held an inhumane presence, something that I couldn’t explain to anyone who’d later ask me about this strange woman.

I was almost unable to tear my eyes off of her, finding myself pulled towards the woman’s snow-like beauty. But no one believed my claims, saying that it was just a simple mind trick of a four-year-old child, even though my words should’ve held some power due to my position as the second possible Heir to the Hyuga Clan.

They couldn’t have been more wrong.