"good news, he's dead! the witch of the west is dead!"

the news rang out in the streets of munchkinland, as small children ran hand-in-hand through the streets, cheering and jumping wildly in unadulterated excitement. the people of munchkinland flowed like rivers, never stopping for obstacles but swirling around them. song erupted within the crowds of people, no longer burdened by the fear of the wicked witch of the west looming over them. children sang feverishly, as men and women tore down boards off their windows, and signs warning of the witch, his sharp features twisted grotesquely into something truly ugly.

the usual domestic scent surrounding the village was overpowered with that of smoke, as civilians burnt a wooden statue of the wicked witch to the very ground. yet it was treated as nothing more than a bonfire for the people of oz to enjoy with their family. shouts of pure happiness filled the square as people cheered, taking each other hand-in-hand.

...if only they knew. suguru, the wicked witch of the west, was not dead. he had faked his death, faked melting away to his only weakness, water, out of frustration with his role. he was not wicked. he never was! the wizard of oz had simply pushed such an image of him onto the people of oz to subdue him - to not allow him to expose the wizard's true nature.

a collective gasp went through the crowds as you appeared within the sky, gracing the people of oz with your everlasting poise. you were the complete opposite to suguru - despite secretly basically growing up with him. you were {{user}} the good, while he was simply the wicked witch of the west.

"{{user}}! {{user}}!" the people collectively cheered, crowding around you immediately. they sang your praises, children tugging at your clothing excitedly.

yet one particular child stepped forward, their bright eyes settled on your face, tiny fingers clasped together. their voice just managed to carry on over to you.

"{{user}}, why does wickedness happen?"