Chapter 1

PROLOGUE Even now, I can vividly recall what happened on that day eight years ago. Eight-year-old Asana was crouched at the base of a large camphor tree near her house, crying. It was an early summer morning, only a few hours after sunrise. Neither the vibrant, new green leaves, damp with dew, nor the pleasantly chilly breeze could affect the pitch-black darkness of Asana’s heart. “This is a good lesson for you. Someday, this will happen to you, too.” Her older brother’s cold stare had come down on her like a blow to the head. In response to the intense shock, she had fled the house without even realizing it. “No……it can’t be. I can’t…” An endless stream of tears spilled from her eyes, which were already quite swollen from crying. Asana sobbed as she scratched fervently at her left wrist. At the sickening red mark that looked like scales. It coiled around her wrist and all the way up the back of her hand. It was slightly raised on her pale skin, as if she’d had a rope twined around her. Ever since this mark appeared on Asana’s wrist, her family had changed. Her father and older brother began calling her a monster and scorned her. They treated her inhumanely, and her mother wouldn’t even look at her. It was all because she had that mark. If only she didn’t have it… “I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!” Sobbing so hard she nearly threw up, Asana scratched desperately, hoping to make the mark go away. Eventually, bright red blood began to seep from her wrist. I’m not some kind of monster. I don’t want to become a monster. I have to keep going, keep digging deeper and deeper, and scratch it out until the mark is completely gone so it will never come back again. If only the mark would disappear, then things could go back to normal. Her father and brother could return to being the kind people they used to be, instead of acting like cruel money-grubbers. And Asana’s mother would stop ignoring her and call her by her name again. I know it. I know things would get better. I mean, if they didn’t— The pain of tearing at her skin brought on a cold sweat, and her heart was pounding in her ears. Her left wrist was already speckled with spots of blood, and even the nails she was using to scratch were tinged red. “Go away, please. Go away, go away, go away!” She shrieked and screamed and sobbed uncontrollably. Suddenly, a person’s shadow fell over her. “Oh no, you’re badly hurt…!” It was the unfamiliar voice of a young man. When she looked up in surprise, she saw a tall youth dressed in a school uniform standing there with wide eyes. What should I do? She’d been discovered by a stranger. He must have thought she was crazy. “Wait here a moment,” the young man said to Asana and ran off in a hurry. When he came back a few minutes later, he was carrying a damp, white cloth. “Let me see.” Without hesitation, the youth took hold of Asana’s bloody left hand. “No…” She didn’t want to be touched, and Asana quickly pulled her hand back. As she did, she scratched the young man’s hand by mistake. “Ah, s-sorry—” “Don’t worry about that.” The young man didn’t show any sign of pain or admonish Asana at all as he wiped away the blood from her wounds with his wet handkerchief. Her desire to resist wilted under his earnest expression and the gentle way he moved his hands as he took care of her. She couldn’t bring herself to reject his kindness, because even her family didn’t treat her that way anymore. Once he had finished wiping away most of the blood, the young man removed a flat, dark gray tin of salve from his bag and showed it to Asana. “I’m going to put some of this on your cuts, but it’s only plain ointment, so don’t worry.” It was a type of medicine she had seen before at home, so Asana nodded meekly. “Really, I’ve never been more grateful for my clumsy mother as I am today, you know. Thanks to her, I’m able to tend to you like this.” When the young man finished spreading the ointment on her wounded hand, he pulled a pure white strip of gauze from somewhere and carefully wrapped the bandage around her wrist. Asana just watched him work, her mind still blank. He had calm eyes and thin lips. The hair peeking out from under his school cap was as black as ink, lustrous and shiny. However, Asana’s eyes were most drawn to the long ponytail on the back of his head that was fastened with a hairpin. He’s a boy, and yet… Back then, she had never seen a man with his hair done up that way, outside of a theater performance. On top of that, his pin was decorated with a butterfly; it was a beautiful, feminine design. She thought it strange for him to wear it, but the gorgeous, dainty hairpin really seemed to suit the young man’s handsome, delicate features. So pretty. While Asana marveled over his hair, the young man finished his ministrations. When he finally mumbled, “That’ll do,” it brought Asana back to herself. “That must have hurt,” he continued. “It will probably smart for a little while, so make sure you take care of it. And your eyes are so swollen, too—” The young man’s slender fingertips gently brushed the red, swollen area around Asana’s eyes. “…It’s fine. I’m all right now.” Asana shook her head, and the youth’s expression turned cloudy and sad. “You…” He started to say something, then paused and went digging in his bag again. This time, his hand emerged holding a pair of black lace gloves. The gloves were stylish and refined, like the ones fashionable young women wore, and the youth slipped them onto Asana’s hands, first her right and then her bandaged left hand. Afterward, he smiled beautifully. “They’re still a little bit big, but they suit you better than they suit my mother. So I’ll give them to you.” He placed a hand on Asana’s head, somewhat hesitantly. His palm was large and warm. Her tears, which she thought had stopped, threatened to spill over again. “Don’t cry… Well, it’s not good to hold it in, either, so it’s okay to cry sometimes. But smiling is best.” “…Smiling?” “Yes. They say happiness comes to those who smile. I’m just repeating what I’ve heard, though. It’ll work for you, too. Cry when you’re sad, and after you’ve cried, smile a lot.” The young man’s encouragement was a little awkward. But for some reason, his awkwardness really touched Asana’s heart, and she nodded obediently. In truth, Asana knew then that no amount of smiling could bring her happiness. But she wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe the words of a boy who only ever treated her with kindness.