A cold wind blew through the streets of the city. Despite the fact that they were accustomed to cold weather, the citizens went about their business bundled up tightly against the frigid breeze.
One of these citizens walked along quickly, with her head down. Her hands-which were heavily bandaged like her feet-were thrust deeply into the pockets of the long overcoat she always wore. The bottom of the coat flapped in the wind. No one stared at her, although she wouldn't have cared if they did. She was past caring what anyone thought of her.
She entered a four-story building and walked up the stairs to the top floor. She passed derelicts slumped in the corridors and ignored them. Reaching a door, she slid a card key in and waited for it to open. Then she walked into her living room and sat on her worn couch. Another long day at the soup kitchen had ended.
There was a mirror on the wall across from her. She caught a glimpse of herself in it-the long, purple hair, the darkness where her face should be, and the two glowing eyes. That was who she was.
But not always. For her first eleven years, she had been a pretty, blonde little girl, intelligent and popular. But a rogue virus that had lain dormant in her body since birth chose a short time after her eleventh birthday to strike. It replicated itself rapidly, and while it caused no permanent internal damage, and didn't even threaten her life, it wreaked horrible damage on her externally, destroying her face, turning her hair purple and triggering mutagenic changes in her brain. When the virus finally died off, her life was changed forever.
Frightened by her freakish appearance, her old school friends avoided her. Her parents hid her as much as possible, ashamed of her looks and more concerned about thier social standing. Her life simply fell apart, and finally she ran away from a world she no longer felt a part of. For five years she lived basically on the streets, stealing food and educating herself by stealing library and school books.
Once outgoing, the Outcast withdrew inside herself, and began wearing an overcoat, never removing it even when she was alone. She also wrapped her hands and feet in layers of bandages, partly for protection and partly to conceal even these from the world. But a break came when she was hired at a soup kitchen and began serving those who, like herself, had been rejected by society at large. She was Hagusa-the Outcast.
Hagusa averted her glittering eyes from the mirror. About a year ago, she had discovered that the virus had actually given her something-the power to damage objects with her gaze alone. If she had stared at the mirror for a few seconds more, it would have begun to crack and finally shatter. So her ugliness was actually a kind of superpower. It was the ultimate irony-but one she didn't bother thinking about.
Now she was 20, and saw no future for herself. Where could she go? Not to school-she would be treated as a monster. She couldn't see herself at a different job for the same reason. She had once been a talented hockey player, but that had come to an end with the disease, when no one wanted to play with her. On a world where hockey was not just a sport but a religion and way of life, this really made her an outcast.
Hagusa sighed and decided to go to bed. As she lay there, wrapped in blankets and her coat, she felt nothing would ever change in her life.
She could not have been more mistaken.
To be continued...