> There’s something about Akira’s picture that irritates you. Viscerally so. Like intrinsically infuriates something within your very being.
> And you can’t figure out what.
> Was it the clothes? No. Mom weaves a fancy set of clothes on occasion for the “cosplayers” who come by, and they've never irritated you like this picture did.
> Was it the horns? Not really. You weren’t really biased against devils and demons; you were far more likely to get ticked off at seeing angel wings and halos if you had the inclination to get irritated by things like that.
> Was it the ar-
> A flicker of pain stabs into your head, causing you to grip your temple.
Darkness surrounds you. Many hands red and scaled reached out towards you from the void. You scream as you fall. Your final attempt to save yourself defeated by a repulsion coming from the hole in Reality you fell through.
You scream at the closing gap that lead to the World you once called home.
“You conniving piece of shit! You better fucking hope I die here! Because if I survive this, I’ll going to find my way ba-”
> You blink several times and shake your head groggily.
> Weird. You don’t normally space out like that. Ugh, maybe you overdid it with looking for people to help in the ninety-eight degree weather. What were you doing again?
> Oh yeah. You were going to reblog Akira’s picture. It was a nice picture after all. Fancy-looking gentlemanly suit. Very regal-looking. And the magic circle was a nice touch.
> Something bothers you about it though. It felt like something was missing or maybe something just didn’t fit right.
> Yeah... Do Baristas actually wear such fancy things? Does he actually wear that at work? Ha.
> You press the reblog button, glad that you figured out the reason why that picture made you feel so perturbed.
---
> Elsewhere behind a Black Door, a lightbulb emitting a dark light suddenly sported a hairline crack.
> Its iridescent glow intensifies.
---
> A dark-haired girl with long bangs turns her head in the direction of the house. She looks for the source of the odd sound she just heard with a placid expression, only to find nothing.
> The girl returns to her quiet vigil of watching the setting sun.
