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Who Am I?

It’s interesting you should ask this. I’m not sure myself.

I suppose I could tell you that my name isn’t Chiriwi, but you already knew that.  Then again, if someone is reading this, I think it’s safe to assume that that someone either already knows who I am or does not wish to know. Nevertheless. It’s true that my nickname is Chiriwi and it’s also true that I got it partly because of my red hair. I am a freak of nature in more ways than one. Yes, I know, Japanese people are usually not born as 赤毛; my mother thought I was a special child, and she came up with my nickname (it acts as an amalgamation of chili – red, hot and spicy both due to my supposedly fiery nature as a child and my hair color – and my father’s surname, which my mother wore for a time). I kept the name when I moved with my father to the U.S. I don’t know why, but I did.

I could also tell you of my sister, or, rather, half-sister. We met in real life for the first time a month ago. It was strange seeing her in real life after having written to her for almost ten years of my life. Sure, she sent photos, but it was still odd. I love my sister and I will try my best to shield her from harm. Unfortunately, harm is not exactly in short supply in this part of the world.

I guess there would be no harm in revealing that my father works with the Orochi Group. He didn’t exactly keep it a secret. I suppose that’s partly the reason why he went to Japan in the first place and it would logically follow that his employment is the reason why he met my mother. The wings of the butterfly twitch slightly, and in a different part of the world, a mountain crumbles to dust…

As I write this I notice that the air grows chilly. It smells faintly of rotten fish guts and gasoline. Underneath it all – the buzzing. It crawls through my subconscious and gnaws at the fabric of reality. There are voices in the insectile hum. They speak of honey, of sweet things, of knowledge more ancient than the universe itself. I can feel it underneath my skin.

Yeah, I am probably less sane than I was. This does not prevent me from fighting back.

This blog is my way of talking to someone – anyone – who might want to listen. I will not reveal everything – that would be dangerous both for me and my sister as well as our parents – but I will speak to the silence and tell it things that I need to get off my chest. I’ve met so many people and I have so many memories; some of those memories are mine but most of them aren’t. The term eldritch comes to mind. Ancient, dark, behind the scenes.

I am Chiriwi. I can probably kill you with a thought.


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