00 | the life and death of akihiro shiina.

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prologue:
the life and death of akihiro shiina.






OME, TOKYO PREFECTURE
DECEMBER 2000

               MORI HARUNA HAS ALWAYS LOVED WINTER in her hometown. It often snows, and it coats the countryside landscape in a beautiful silver glow that reminds her of the moonlight even in the middle of the day. The temperature dropping low outside heightens the sweet, warm feeling of coming home to hand-knitted blankets and freshly made tea. As a kid, she would go play with the other neighbourhood children in the small park down the street from her house, and come home shivering, her hair humid from the melted snowflakes it captured, to her aunt Chiya offering her a change of warm clothes and a cup of her favourite jasmine. Chiya would chastise her about staying out too late, but her tone would always soften at the sight of her niece's flushed cheeks and toothy smile. Chiya knew, even two decades ago, that Haruna would not always get to be this carefree, this happy. She didn't inherit their ancestors' Technique-or any, for that matter-but she did always have a certain hunch when it came to her last remaining relative. Now that she's older and wiser, Haruna thinks that, despite Chiya's lack of a Technique, there must be something in Mori blood that makes its hosts more intuitive than most. Haruna sees it in her own son, sometimes, in his reflexes, quicker than any other three-going-on-four year old she's seen before.

Haruna finds that the park hasn't changed much since the last time she has been here. The swingset must have been cleaned up by the city because it lacks the very faint traces of rust she remembers, the soil is covered in a faint coat of snow splattered with small footprints, and the leafless trees are still as tall and large as she remembers them. There is a teenage girl calling out her younger siblings' names and telling them it is time to go home; the two kids, who appear to be twins, grumble and try to bargain for some more time, and their sister finds a compromise by telling them they can come back earlier the next day so they have more time to play. A man around Haruna's age is adjusting a young boy's scarf around his neck and pulling a bright orange beanie over his ears, and then a little farther down, making the boy splutter and laugh when it covers his eyes. An old couple is holding hands as they walk their dog, a big, beautiful German shepherd who seems to thrive under the light snowflakes falling down. Haruna can't help the small, content smile on her lips, picturing all those small windows into families as her own someday.

Someone comes to sit on the bench beside her after wiping the snow with a black-gloved hand. The older woman lets a small sigh escape her as she sits down next to Haruna.

"What a peaceful area," she says.

"Isn't it just so?" Haruna smiles. "Have you never been here before?"

"I've never had a reason to be," the woman answers before tilting her head towards Haruna. She seems to assess her for a moment-Haruna knows what will be found in herself: slight bags under her eyes due to the very short nights she has had in the past few months, but a relaxed expression and genuine smile-and she lets herself stare back. Hino Misumi is a good decade and a half older than her, with copper hair tied in a tight bun, a thin-lipped smile and sharp, angular features. Her eyes are what Haruna pays attention to the most, their grey-ish shade makes them seem hazy, and yet there is a pointed concentration piercing through them. "Pleasure to officially meet you, Mori Haruna."

"You as well," Haruna nods and hands Misumi the untouched paper cup from the holder. Misumi takes it with a quiet thank you and takes a sip. Haruna holds up her own, "I wasn't sure if you drank coffee as I do, so I thought tea to be a safer bet."

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