The moon was round and high, and the world was asleep. Panicked murmurs rang out in the middle of the dark and snowy night. The light-headed children were pulled out of their slumber, as some stuck their heads out under their chalk-white roofs.

A crowd gathered at the center of the town, and the atmosphere was filled with dread. The wind spread a metallic odor.

"Get back!" The guardians heeded, blocking the people from the scene of where the odor came from; A puddle of crimson where a woman lay, lifeless and frozen, in the center of the crowd. There was a fresh gap on her chest, revealing her flesh as though her heart had been gouged out.

"Stay in your places, everyone! We must search for the killer's footprints!"

The people searched and searched, desperate for clues and traces. But there were no other footprints aside from the deceased woman. Not even a single trace of a second person. No weapon was in sight near the victim either.

However, one could tell that she had been slain by a katana. She reeked of an intoxicating and floral aroma. And yet, no flowers were in sight.

In a town plagued by winter, flowers are scarce. Even the leaves of the trees were considered rare by the residents. The snowflakes poured as the blood spread on the white grounds.

It was as if-a ghost had killed her.

"It's Kiri no Tsujigiri" A gentle voice silenced the bustling noises of panic of the crowd, which was soon replaced by murmurs. Dressed in the robes of a shrine priestess, a young woman slowly strode towards the scene through a spacious aisle paved by the people, her footsteps quiet as if she were a ghost herself.

Among the crowd, this young woman stood out like a black sheep in a flawless herd. Rather, she appeared to be the embodiment of winter. With hair resembling the purity of snow and eyes darker than the starless night sky, the young woman radiated a sacred aura even from her voice alone.

She halted before the corpse and kneeled as she clasped her hands. As if welcomed to join in the silent prayer, the people did the same without question or disturbance. The young woman leaned close to the corpse's ear. There was no other sound but the blowing of the icy wind when her lips opened, uttering what was quieter than a whisper.

"I promise you, Michiko."

The long strands of her fringe covered her face like thin ivory curtains. She held the corpse's cold hands with tenderness. The people watched her and could only imagine the look she had on her face. Was she sad?

Furious? . . .Or perhaps, empty?

"I will learn the song," her lips trembled, "And exorcise Kiri no Tsujigiri once and for all."