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I got them masked. Emoji added!

@Lynxi I see you

The lightning strike and thunderclap shocked the senses only slightly compared to the bloodcurdling screams that came from the village. The downpour washed the blood off of me but the agony in my heart still remained. The blackness of night feels comforting to me as it obscures my vision and obscures my black foul deeds. As the screams begin to fade, I continue walking with my head down finally stepping onto the trail heading out of this place. The path is steep and full of treachery. I welcome the danger. The guilt of what I have just done makes me reckless as I trundle down the mountain via a sharp and steep path. Saturated from the rain, I hope that its purity will touch my being. I have to think of the positive. I saved people's lives. I removed the poison from their soul that haunted them. Their families will see them whole again because of me. The world however lives in balance. When you save a life, you have to take a life. How can I decide? Why is it right for me to knock on someone's door like the grim reaper choosing someone in this household to die. My next step on the wet rocks resulted in failure. I slip down the switchback and try to catch my balance. I lean into the mountain and clutch a boulder. Heart racing. I grab on. Safety. But why. Why am I spared? I deserve the visage of death just as I have been that bringer to so many others. I stand up right, fingers stinging from the struggle. I am stable. Whew. The lightning strikes above me loosening the side of the mountain. In a rush my next step proves to be one of folly. I gasp and fall over the trail. Rocks. Pain as I bound off the side. In a moment I realize that this is it, justice. I hit the side of the mountain so hard it takes my breath. Although I am not scared, the feeling of imminent death via fall is exhilarating. I think back to my youth. Rock. Parents. The book. Pebbles. Lonely. Helping. Hurting. Taking. Giving. Once again I hit the side of the mountain, this time I carom off at a funny angle. Hhhhuuuuuu The daylight stings my eyes. My head throbs as does my side. But... The world has decided I must stay. I sit up and take inventory. Stiff and sore but alive. I tumbled most of the way down the mountain. How unfortunate. Gingerly, I finish my trek down the mountain and onto the road. The path is familiar and less painful. I stop and look over my shoulder at the mountain village. I shudder at what I have done, but know that it was the right choice. I saved someone! The man in the mountain town, deserved what he got. He lived a long miserable life. I laid my hands on his head and felt the hate and agony leave my body and fill his. Torment and dread overcame him quickly. His eyes quickly faded and my heart sank. Who am I to choose? The agony in my soul subsides when I think of the young couple. I helped. I saved their lives. Why do I feel so cold?

Birds chirp in the crisp spring air. You see the cherry blossoms begin to open up, in the dawn light it almost looks blood red. The streaks of yellow and red burst out like fire as the sun rises on the land of the rising sun. You walk along one of the trails, relishing the crunch of the dirt under your sandals. It is another day, and soon, in a few hours, the people will come. The village is small, only a few hundred or so. Among them, there is one teacher, one official, and one healer. That last one is you. It is said you have magical healing properties like no other, not even the ones outside the village. Children especially love you, coming frequently for boo-boos and scraped knees from climbing the knottled tree outside one of the houses. You operate the village apothecary, with shelves lined with herbal powders, green tea, and candy (popular among the young ones). It is a bustling place, with everyday injuries, back pain, cuts, or the occasional broken bone. Each time, you calmly clean their wound and apply medicine. Each time, they break out in a fever and a bout of nausea. Each time, after a good night's sleep, it (fever and wound) disappears immediately upon sunrise, and they feel reinvigorated. You are Akuma Tenshi, praised among the village as a hero, an angel, if you will. From the plateau raised above the rest of the land, it feels like it's on the way to the celestial body. However, over the fence and down below, there is another village. They are rivals with the first, and let's just say they do not like you as much. In fact, they curse you everyday, calling you the devil, daring not to speak your name. Why? Well, the benefits of healing in your village have a great cost. Whenever a scrape or cut is healed up on the celestial plateau, it is suddenly inflicted down below as soon as the sun rises. They have a great suspicion it's you who did it. One day, a boy (toddler/child) climbed over the fence and fell straight down the plateau. No one could find his body, and was presumed dead. The village went into great mourning; it was the first time in many years such a tragedy had happened. But what really happened is that he survived the fall, and found his way into the enemy village, raising him as one of their own. He wore the same clothes, spoke in almost the same dialect, and made friends with many there. He did not remember much in the village from which he came, making the one he grew up in his home. Still, he could not shake the feeling that he was an outsider. He did not have all of the same scars on many of the boys in the village (which is why they wore traditional face paint and had long, robe-like clothes); not all of the injuries healed up there would affect him, and did not walk with a limp, wincing every time they took a step. Sometimes he imitated them just to feel included, but they still envied him a little. Once or twice, he was picked on by one of the bigger kids, but was able to run away, not slowed by a limp. When he grew up, he decided to trek the way up to the village from which he came. Although he did not have the characteristic limp or scars of the rival village, his face paint and robe-like clothes drew disdain from many as an enemy. He was teased and had rocks thrown at him from the village children (which bounced off the silk robe harmlessly). All you could do was look on in sorrow. Heal the physical scars and go was one of the things that you considered easy, mundane. But deep, emotional strains were not so easy, with complex motivations and thoughts behind them.