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They were meant to defeat the bad guys, escape together unharmed, and even laugh about it all, one day down the line. It wasn’t meant to be like this: his body, cold and lifeless and seeping red into the ground.
She hears the voice ring out before she realises it’s her own, before she realises this is actually happening. She calls his name, desperate, even as she knows he can’t answer anymore. Everything in her wants to run back to him, forget all this, hold him, cry, scream, because she hadn’t known what to expect when Rika had told them about the conspiracy, but it wasn’t this. It wasn’t meant to be like this.
She makes her decision before her mind has the chance to fight it. She knows what she has to do — what he would want her to do — now that this worst-case scenario has come to pass.
With a roar, she charges forwards, the club on her heels.
When she’s asked to recall it later, she won’t be able to, those moments where they somehow push through the lackeys, powered by nothing but adrenaline and fear of death, thick and suffocating and like nothing they’ve ever known. They somehow slip past and make it to the van, clambering in one after the other. One of the men grabs Satoko’s ankle and she shrieks.
There is no sense of victory as she gets into the driver’s seat and goes through the motions of starting the vehicle. There are no more quips about her driving underage — all she can hear from the back is heavy breathing. Not the kind that comes from exhaustion, but shock. Hyperventilation. When she notices a sharp tapping sound, it takes a moment to place it as her nails against the wheel; her hands are shaking violently.
The next thing she knows, she’s swerving to avoid the roadblocks up ahead, looming at them suddenly out of the darkness. It’s only after she’s done it that she realises her rookie mistake, and wonders if this, too, is a trap. But then she hears Rika’s voice, barely audible.
“Akasaka...?”
And then, suddenly commanding, suddenly older than all of them, “Mii, stop here.”
***
The man she recalls from the day at the toy store scans the group with a steely gaze.
"Is this everyone?"
She opens her mouth, used to speaking for all of them, but her voice catches in her throat. Rika once again takes over.
"Yes."
She bites her lip at the finality of the word, willing the waves of grief to recede. Akasaka only nods, and they pack into another van under heavy silence. He gets into the driver's seat, and they're off.
Her mind burns with questions. Who is he really? Where are they going? And why does Rika seem to know all of the answers already? The girl in question stares resolutely at the back of the driver's seat, perhaps solemn, but seemingly more unaffected. And at that thought she becomes angry, because wasn’t this Rika’s idea in the first place? If they'd laughed off her concerns, surely exaggerated in her young mind, then they could've been in their homes right now, sleeping in their beds. They could've been anywhere but here.
The better part of her says that she'd seen the men and their insatiable bloodlust — had only truly grasped the situation when she had — and that all she was wishing for was for one body to be replaced with another. She berates herself for the thought, the guilt turning her stomach. When the van judders as the road changes from gravel to tarmac, she realises where they’re headed. The world becomes slowly brighter as they advance towards Okinomiya, lights scattered along the roadside. Each time a beam washes over the van, she thinks she can see Rika watching her out of the corner of her eye.
***
The car screeches to a sudden stop by a small stone square, the kind where people bring their kids to play, tucked into the bustle of the city. Now, in the dead of night, they’re the only ones on the road, and so she’s surprised to see a cluster of shadowy figures assembled to meet them, identities indiscernible in the dark. They disembark yet again, led out one by one into the humid summer night, moon high in the sky and a blistering, unforgiving white.
“Your families were worried, when they found you out of your beds so late.” It’s the man, Akasaka, his tone sombre, seemingly already aware of everything that’s transpired. “The Maebaras called the police first.”
She stops in her tracks, her throat prickling with fear.
“Reina?”
A male voice cuts through the dark, quivering — Rena’s father. Rena breaks away from the group and is in his arms within seconds. She can just make out their hug.
She feels the sudden urge to search the group for her own family, desperate for her mother’s warmth, the promise that somehow everything would be okay. The thought that Satoko and Rika can’t be afforded such comforts holds her back — until she feels Shion’s hand at her elbow. She allows herself to be guided forwards, as though admitting defeat.
Her mother’s face betrays more emotion than she’s ever known it to. She grabs them both by the arm with a force that’s sure to leave bruises, and Mion welcomes it. For a moment, lips part, and she waits for the telling off. Before her mother gets the chance, Mion buries herself in her embrace, feeling the tears arrive, hot and fast and coming from some place deep inside of her that’s only now beginning to grasp the horror of it all. The grief is a wave, insurmountable and ready to take her from everything she knows.
“What am I going to do with you girls?”
It’s her grandmother’s voice. Not angry, only old and tired. They must know everything, if even she’s here. Mion looks up, the world a smear of light. She wipes her eyes on her arm.
“I’m sorry, Baccha. I’m sorry—”
A hand is put up to silence her.
“You were helping Rika-chama.” Her grandmother surveys the group. “...And your other friends. You did well.”
She feels the ground come to meet her as she falls to her knees, all her strength finally gone.
***
As she watches her friends becoming sobbing children again in the arms of their families, Rika exhales. She can feel that Hanyuu wants to say something; the words hum just beyond the veil that separates their minds. The air around them feels tight.
“‘I told you so’? Is that it?”
Her voice is sarcasm dipped in ice. Hanyuu just sighs, enough of an answer. She bites her lip hard and tastes blood.
“What were we supposed to do?” And then, her voice breaking, “What was I supposed to do?”
Had her desire to ensure her friends’ happiness only brought them more pain? The answer lay in the scene before her eyes, and Rika is tortured with the terrible knowledge that this is the only world, for all of them. These were the lives she’d given them. She had gambled it all, and failed.
She feels the horror of the hundred times she’d done this before, left destruction in her wake as she went on to a prettier future, leaving her friends behind. Her past had been written with their blood, and now her future would be too. She feels bile rise in her throat.
“I exchanged his life for mine.”
Hanyuu says nothing.
***
Satoko is shell-shocked, and she feels so painfully responsible, it’s a hand closing around her neck, tighter, then tighter still. She was the oldest. The strongest. She should have been able to protect them all — or else they never should have tried.
“Stop it.” Shion’s voice cuts through the air, definitive. “Stop blaming yourself.”
Satoko lifts her head. “It’s not your fault, Mion-san.”
Her voice is deathly quiet. She tries for a smile, then seems to think better of it. Her words sound empty and mean nothing. If anything, Mion feels worse. Shion addresses her again.
“If you’re thinking this is about your age, or your strength, then I have just as much reason to blame myself.” And then, more quietly, “We’re just kids, Onee.”
She thinks she hears Satoko murmur Keiichi’s name. The small girl erupts suddenly into violent sobs. Shion holds her — rocks her, as though she’s a baby.
For Satoko, Keiichi had been like a second brother. It was only since his transfer that she seemed to have truly recovered. For her, the loss would be that much more traumatic. For all of them, where would they go from here?
Chie-sensei approaches them, then — one by one, the shadows that comprise the group are making themselves known. Shion stands and allows her to take her place comforting Satoko. Her sister looks at her, and Mion nods.
***
Her feet naturally carry her towards them. Until now the thought had been even more overwhelming than the grief, but she feels a sense of calm descend as she approaches. This is her duty, and something left that she can do for him.
The news had been delivered by a grim-faced Akasaka, flanked by a female police officer she didn’t recognise. The deep-set frowns and clenched jaws say they’ve done this a hundred times, and a hundred too many. Keiichi’s mother is crouched on the ground, immoble, as her husband helplessly holds her. Subconsciously, she had been waiting for it, she realises — the scream. Instead, the reunion had been permeated by an unearthly silence.
Keiichi’s father looks up as she approaches.
“Mion-chan.” His eyes are huge and wild. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
She takes a shuddering breath. “I’m...” And her voice cracks. “So sorry. I’m so sorry.”
She feels the tears come yet again, spilling over, and she doesn’t dare wipe them. She’s petrified to the spot, as though this is her only chance at atonement.
She hears a murmur from Keiichi’s mother, barely audible. Her husband draws his head closer, prompting her to repeat it. Upon hearing her words, he inhales sharply.
“She wants to know… Was it fast? Did it hurt?”
His eyes meet hers, just as desperate for the answer, almost begging her to lie. She doesn’t have to.
“Yes. And no.” They’re the easiest words she’s said all night. “It was instant. I don’t think... he felt anything.”
Keiichi’s mother erupts into desperate, gulping sobs, her whole body shaking. His father nods.
“Thank you, Mion-chan.”
And there’s more she wants to say, but something tells her that, at least for now, she’s done all that she can.
He’s never seen a sky like this one. The stars are few, and incredibly far away. For a long time, he has the impression that he’s falling, though he’s forgotten where from. He feels that way because the stars move, tumbling around, in and out of sight, like lights running along one million distant intertwined highways.
“Try not to think too hard about gravity.”
It’s a voice he recognises from somewhere he can’t quite remember. It comes from deep inside his own mind. He’d think it was one of his own thoughts, but the voice in his head has never been female.
When he looks to his feet, he realises he doesn’t know which way he’s oriented in space. There’s nothing under him to support his weight, and so panic coils in his stomach, the kind you feel when you miss a step on a flight of stairs. He should be falling, but he isn’t—
“Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.”
He turns somehow, because the girl is behind him, if ‘behind’ exists in a place like this.
“Where the hell am I?”
The girl looks sad.
“Do you remember anything?”
Memories. He’d almost forgotten the concept. He’d known that there was something out of place about this world, and that was because he’d come from another.
He thinks. He supposes he had passed out, or had been asleep. But for how long? He asks the girl what day it is, but he isn’t listening for her answer, because he’s digging through the fog in his mind with a sense of urgency now. Something important had happened to lead him here.
He remembers the feeling of something hitting his chest, hard. The resonance of metal striking bone. He remembers something that might have been pain, enough to make his vision turn white and to knock him off his feet. He remembers Mion calling his name.
He remembers running, with the club on either side, running from something, through the woods at night, the outskirts of Hinamizawa — or had they been running towards something? He remembers the heady mix of fear and adrenaline, the unreal knowledge that this was the most important night of his life — something important had been at the very tips of his fingers.
He remembers Rika. Fearing for Rika, wanting to protect Rika — all of them — because he remembers her telling them, now. In bits and pieces, the story comes to him, like he’s speeding through the pages of a book, but away from the ending rather than towards it.
What had been the ending?
He suddenly remembers the girl. She looks so very sad. And he swallows, and his throat is dry.
“There’s nobody else here, but you and me.”
He means it as a statement, but his voice pitches up at the end, as though he’s asking for confirmation, though he’s afraid of the answer.
“Yes.” Not anymore, he thinks he hears her murmur.
“Does that mean that they’re okay?”
And she looks at him, and her eyes are wet.
“Yes.”
“All of them?”
“All of them. They’re—” She hesitates. “They’re okay. They’re alive.”
He nods, and her shoulders seem to relax. The hard part is over. Now, she addresses him.
“You don’t know who I am, but I have to thank you.” She looks so young, but her eyes are so old, and they tell him she knows things about him that even he doesn’t. He knows her, after all. He knows that she’s been with him for longer than he can understand. These are the things his brain tells him that he’s careful not to think too hard about, lest he start falling again. “I don’t know how to reconcile myself with this, but I know you wanted her to be safe, and she is.” And she takes his hand, and maybe through sheer willpower, she defies the laws of physics, and he can feel everything. “Keiichi, thank you.”
He doesn’t realise he’s crying until he sees his tears drip onto her skin.
“Can I still see them, at least?”
It had been the most anticipated and dreaded sunrise of her life.
Keiichi’s parents had obviously wanted to recover his body as soon as possible, and so the police had promised that they would take care of it at first light. Aiko, not wanting to be kept from her son for even a moment longer, demanded that she come. There had been some troubled looks, and then Mion had stepped in — she would lead them all to him, together.
Nobody had felt like arguing, and so Akasaka had only asked her if she was sure. Something about her demeanour must have been enough to convince him. Someone had told her she’d need sleep first, and she’d ended up in the back of a police car. She was separated from her friends, but promised they’d be looked after. For now, this was more important.
For a few disorienting hours she lay across prickly chairs in an empty room at Okinomiya police station, waiting for morning to arrive. After some time, she gave up and sat, watching the sky bleed out its darkness, leaving a pale blue dawn in its place. All too soon, it was time.
***
Once they get to the area surrounding Hinamizawa, Akasaka prompts her gently.
“Sonozaki-san, do you remember roughly where you were?”
She doesn’t reply, but after another minute or so of driving, she asks to stop. She, Akasaka, and Keiichi’s parents climb out of the vehicle, followed by some plainclothes officers. She pretends not to notice the one carrying the thing that looks like a sleeping bag under his arm, rolled up as if they’re all going camping.
What follows is a surreal trek through the woodland that probably feels much longer than it actually takes. They follow her in single file as she makes her way through the trees. Twigs crunch under foot, the only sound. Just as golden sunlight starts to appear in pools on the ground, her stomach tightens, and she stops so quickly that Akasaka bumps into her. Almost imperceptibly, he bends down.
“Are you okay?”
And she knows he’s being kind, but she also knows he’s asking much more.
Should we let them see him? How bad is it?
She gulps. “I’m okay.”
And she carries on walking.
A few more strides to the right is all it takes, and there he is. And in a second they’re there, Keiichi’s parents — dropping to their knees in the dirt, grabbing his lifeless arms. Aiko bends over and buries her face in his chest and for a moment Mion thinks that she’s frozen, or even fainted — and then the grief that only shock had kept at bay all spills out of her in one terrible noise, deep and desperate and animal.
For a minute or two everyone stands back, nobody quite sure what to do. Then an officer steps forward to say something, Ichirou nods, and the two of them support Aiko as she’s led away. Nobody wants to drag things out, and so the officer with the body bag steps forwards. Before she realises what she’s doing, Mion stops him.
“Can I have a moment?”
***
When the last footsteps have faded into the trees, she closes her eyes.
For an impossible sliver of a moment, there is calm. It’s surely only a lull in the waves of grief that have been washing over her for hours on end, but all the same, the blaring pain fades to a soft static, and the weight on her chest lifts just enough for her to take a single deep, grounding breath.
Just then, her eyes flutter open again, her senses awakened by a gust of wind blowing through the branches up above, sending the sunspots scattered all around into a dance. And once again, she has to take in the scene in front of her.
Him, but not him. The first time a space occupied by the both of them had ever been filled with such a terrible silence. The knowledge that this was how it would be from now on. The thought of never hearing his laugh again, and forgetting his voice, and suddenly she can’t breathe, and she can’t do this, and she feels her legs begin to buckle under her, and she hears her name.
She hears him say her name.
She spins around, suddenly awake, everything in sharp focus — because she’d undoubtedly, unmistakably heard his voice. And she blinks once, blinks twice, and the sun dazzles her as it climbs towards the crest of the sky, and through the light, he appears.
He looks almost translucent, and it’s only because she knows she won’t be able to that she doesn’t run over and throw her arms around him. It’s only because she’s afraid that if she so much as breathes, he’ll disappear.
Keiichi looks at her.
“You’re not going to yell at me then?”
She doesn’t care if she’s hallucinating. Can you talk to hallucinations?
“Why would I yell at you?” Her voice comes out as a croak.
He runs a nervous finger under his collar. “I dunno. Because I, like… died, I guess.”
“You’re not meant to know that you’re dead.” She speaks very quickly. “I think. Hallucinations aren’t meant to know that they’re dead. You’re meant to be talking to me like normal. You’re meant to be letting me pretend none of this is real.”
He’s dead. Keiichi is dead. It’s the first time she’s said it out loud, she realises, after hours of doing anything to avoid setting it in stone. She wants to grab the words out of the air and take them back. It feels like the times when he’d pulled off a magnificent double bluff during a card game, and she hadn’t been sure whether to kill him or kiss him. She’d laugh if she didn’t feel like crying.
He almost smiles. “That’s more like you.” And then, suddenly uncharacteristically serious, “Look, Mion, I need you to understand that this is it. This is the last time we’ll talk.” He forces the words out, and she sees his jaw tighten to lock the emotion away. “And it’s only going to be harder for both of us if I stay here for too long.”
She’s torn between telling him that that’s not true and asking him why he’s here at all, then. She understands that she needs to say something, at least.
“Why?”
“My parents need my body back, remember?” He smiles sadly. She’d forgotten there was anybody else left in the world. He steps closer, and she can see the resolve in his eyes, smouldering blue. “I’m not going to insult you by telling you to be strong, you’re the strongest person I know. Last night was a testament to that.”
“No, it wasn’t—”
“Yes, it was.” It’s the harshest tone he’s ever used with her, and he looks like he regrets it almost immediately. “I’m sorry, but I can’t have you blaming yourself for this.” His eyes keep flickering to her hands, but he can’t touch her.
“But—”
“You can argue all you want, Mion, but look at you all — all safe, all unharmed. You’re not just doing yourself a disservice if you ignore that, you’re doing one to everyone. I know you’d feel the same if you were me. You’re all safe. I’d do it all again, to make sure of that.”
And she can’t argue, because he’s right. And she wants to ask him everything and tell him everything and she’s forgotten every word. He doesn’t wait for her to speak.
“I have something to ask of you.”
“Anything.”
“Be happy.”
I can’t do that.
“Live your life. I won’t tell you to forget me, but I don’t want you to dwell on this out of some sense of obligation.”
Do you know what you’re saying?
“It was all I wanted, for you all to be alive and okay.” He pauses for the slightest of moments before he speaks again, as though questioning whether to say it, and then immediately dismissing the idea of hesitation. “You taught me what happiness was. I couldn’t bear it if I took it away from you.” And the assertive tone she knows from his theatrical speeches sinks into something softer, and warmer, and he really looks at her, and it feels like the first time he ever has. In this moment, he is still here with her. “I know it’s a lot to ask now, but now is all I have. Can you promise me that you will be happy, Mion?”
“I love you.” Keiichi blinks. It takes her a moment to realise she’s accidentally said it out loud. “Oh…” It’s not a strong follow-up.
“I...” His cheeks are tinged red, even as the sun moves through them. “Me too.”
They stand there. And it’s the second time that day that she’s said something for the first time, and made it real.
“What I mean is—”
“I meant that—”
They speak over one another, stop, look at each other again, and bemused smiles become laughter. Somehow, miraculously, even now, they laugh together.
“I meant this.”
And she takes a step closer, and she leans in, and she presses her lips to his cheek. And even though all she meets is thin air, she thinks he can feel what she wants to convey. Through the haze of pain and exhaustion and confusion, past the part of her mind that wonders if this is an illusion or a dream, that starts to forget where it all begins and ends, she realises she is braver than she’d ever known. And for once, she doesn’t mind that he’s right.
Reluctantly, she pulls away. Now Keiichi is bright red.
“Um, yeah.” He splutters incoherently. “That. Me too.”
The corners of her lips twitch upwards, and it takes all her self-restraint not to tease him about where all that prior self-assuredness has gone. Instead, she answers him.
“I promise, Kei-chan.”
For a moment, he looks bewildered, and then he seems to remember. Be happy.
“Our club’s been through a lot already, after all.” And she musters up every ounce of forced confidence and bravado from all the years of having to be more than she truly was, and for the first time, she doesn’t feel like a complete fraud. “It’s why we exist, to prepare ourselves for every scenario.” Her voice begins to waver. “We’ll carry on, just like always.” She forces the tears back down, hot as they climb up her throat. “You’ll always be there, though. You’ll always be with us.”
Almost as though something more than them knows that everything that needs to has been said, she’s sure he’s there less and less, every time she blinks.
“You bet. I still need to get rid of my loser reputation.” He smiles a smile that fills his whole face, brilliant and warm because he’s thinking of her even now, because that’s who he is. If there was any doubt left, she knows now — she loves him. “We’ll all play together again. Some time, some place.”
And she’s alone.
Mion waits until the tears on her cheeks are dry, and then she walks through the forest alive with summer and birdsong, back into a world just waking up, a new day just beginning.
Even as the days pass, Rika’s mind doesn’t seem to register it. One life lost, another gained, the shock of sorrow and the overwhelming knowledge that she has a future laid ahead of her for the first time combine to make her dizzy.
Chie tells them all to take a bit of time off school and though she’s not sure it’s the best idea, she reminds herself that her friends haven’t become numb to death the way she has.
She wonders whether she really understands that this is it — the end, the curtain call. That there is no fresh slate just beyond the edge of a knife. That the early June sky of 1983 is now gone forever, and with it, him — so much of the reason she had made it this far.
When she thinks this, she supposes she does understand somewhere, because the pain is more than tears. It’s an ache at the centre of her being that makes her wonder if she’s gained anything at all.
One day she’s sat on the windowsill, watching the laundry flutter in the breeze. Satoko had gone shopping. She could tell the intention was to give her some time to be alone with her thoughts, and she was grateful. She hadn’t seen Hanyuu in a few days, and didn’t care.
“Was this her idea?” She’s addressing him, Keiichi — he’s sat at her table.
“I was wondering if you hadn’t noticed I was here.”
She turns to look at him, smiling her smile of a hundred years. “I notice more than you ever have, Keiichi.”
He pauses before he says it. “Yes, it was her idea.”
“I see.”
There’s no point asking whether he’s a ghost or an illusion. She hadn’t been sure what her question had truly meant. It wasn’t like she understood Hanyuu’s powers — only that it seemed like her, to worry and fret from the shadows, to try and wish away her emotions with whimsical solutions.
“I’ll be honest, I thought you’d have a bit more of a reaction.” He smiles the sheepish smile she knows so well. “Come on, you’ll miss seeing me in all those stupid outfits, at least?” And then, more softly, “I’m glad you’re okay, though.”
“What makes you think I’m okay?” Her voice wavers, louder than usual, balancing somewhere between anger and pain. “I didn’t do this—”
I didn’t do this for a hundred years to lose you.
“Rika-chan, don’t take this the wrong way, but not everything is about you.”
She thinks of that day in the classroom, a week and an eternity ago, where he’d berated her for not confiding in them — where she’d read him the poem she’d never read to anybody and he’d told her to fight for her happiness.
“I know you didn’t want me to die. But I felt the same way about you. I have no regrets.”
“We were so close.” Her voice is trembling like a leaf. “It’s not fair. It’s just not.”
“I know. But I’ve been thinking. I’m sad, and I already miss you all.”
She feels the tears slip from her eyes, the first since it all ended, and she balls her hands into angry fists.
“I feel strangely peaceful, though. And not just because I’m… well, dead. It’s not about being laid to rest. I haven’t been yet, after all — at least, not fully.” He stretches out his arms. “But I can’t help but think that there’s more than this. I haven’t known you for very long, but it doesn’t feel that way. I feel like we made memories that none of us will ever forget. I feel like maybe there’s a world out there where we’re still all together, having fun every day.”
She cries in a way she hadn’t known she still could. She takes large, gulping sobs, as for a minute, then a second, then a third, she lets the pain consume her, too much to fight. She’s been fighting for so long, after all. In spite of everything, she wants to believe that he’s right.
“Rika-chan, you know something? You don’t need another world to be happy.”
She meets his gaze through her tears, and for a moment, she wonders if he knows everything. It feels like he’s speaking to the girl from the poem, the one who forgot happy endings were for stories and spent a thousand lives searching for the impossible.
“People die all the time, you know? And the ones left behind carry on. I know you’re strong enough to carry on.”
She swallows. “How?” She doesn’t know what she’s asking.
“You remember that somebody else was willing to sacrifice everything to make sure that you were happy. And I know you would’ve done the same for me.”
I did.
She doesn’t trust herself to speak, and only nods.
“Live enough for the both of us. Live, and be happy, and I can be at peace. That’s all.”
She clears her throat, then lifts her chin. “Okay.”
“You’re not alone, Rika-chan. Not now, or ever.”
And just like that, he’s gone. And though her heart is sore, the room feels somehow warmer than before.
Just then, Satoko calls her name down the path through the grounds, faint but drawing closer — something about needing help with the shopping, and everybody coming around for dinner.
Akane doesn’t know what to expect when she turns up on Maebara Aiko’s doorstep. The life she led left her no stranger to death, but the grief the woman had emanated that night had been so palpable that it had shaken her. Still, she was certain she’d have been the same in her position, and even more so of what she’d have done next.
When the door finally creaks open, it’s only by a crack. The face that peers out at her is gaunt.
“Who are you?”
“I’m sorry to intrude. My name is Sonozaki Akane.” She offers a smile, and watches the gears turn in the other woman’s mind.
“Sonozaki...?”
“That’s right. My apologies for turning up unannounced, I don’t expect you to know me. I actually live in Okinomiya, but my daughters go to the school here in Hinamizawa.”
Recognition flickers across Aiko’s face, and she opens the door properly. “Come in.”
***
Akane felt more than a little guilty. For weeks, she had wondered about how to approach the woman, and what to say.
For the second time in recent history, Hinamizawa had found itself a reputation in the media. The villagers themselves had been supportive, and she had used her influence as best she could to stave off the reporters flocking to the town like crows to a carcass, but a man had still managed to corner the Maebara couple while they were out shopping. He had brought up things about their son's past that only they themselves should have known — anything to make the front page.
The Maebaras had bought their land from their very family. Her mother had only arranged for the plots to be put on sale so that they could carefully vet newcomers to the village. It was only natural that criminal records were of particular interest, and their contacts allowed them to obtain these with relative ease — even when the party concerned was anonymous to the rest of the world.
If someone had managed to dig up this information, they either had contacts of their own that tabloid reporters would usually only be able to dream of, or they had been sold said information from a source much closer to home.
She couldn’t stand the idea of one of her own having caused this woman even more hardship, but still felt there was little she could do but continue to watch over her from afar.
That was when Kasai had informed her that a gun had just moved off of the local black market.
***
On the night she met her daughters in Okinomiya, two separate emotions had overcome her. Relief, of course — greater than she’d ever known, and enough to make her reevaluate more than a few of her priorities in life.
The other emotion had been harder to identify — she only knew that it had settled in her stomach like acid as she first watched Mion speak to the Maebaras, then saw the woman fall to the ground.
She already suspected what would happen next, because she had considered carrying out the deed herself.
Still, Takano Miyo had been found and charged and was due in court in the coming weeks. There were whispers of a report by a psychiatrist, claims of diminished responsibility on the grounds of mental instability. She could only imagine Keiichi’s mother’s rage, easily enough to stain her own hands if it meant sending her son’s killer down the only way that would mean she stayed there.
***
They sit for a while, sipping tea. She puts her cup down slowly, so as not to startle her companion.
“Maebara-san, I respect you and what you’ve been through, so I won’t talk down to you. I know if anything happened to my children, I would do anything to get my revenge.” She watches the woman across from her as she speaks. Aiko stares holes into the table. “Have you had any similar thoughts?”
“Of course I have.”
“Have you thought of a plan?”
Aiko regards her cautiously, unsure whether she’s looking at a friend or foe. “What’s it to you?”
Akane takes a deep breath before speaking. “Well, I happen to know that a gun has recently found its way into the hands of a civilian woman who has no business becoming involved in such dealings.”
Aiko recoils as though she’s been slapped. She lifts her head and meets Akane’s gaze. Her eyes begin to dart, wide and frantic. Akane lowers her voice.
“I’m not here to admonish you. I’m certainly not here to bring you to the police. I’m here because I’d do the same.”
“I’d like you to leave. You have no business coming into my home and throwing these accusations at me after I’ve been through so much.” Aiko rises from her seat, voice shaking, and Akane moves with her.
“Please, Aiko-san. My daughter was with you the morning after he died.” She watches emotion flicker across the other woman’s face. She looks distraught, and torn. “I promise you that I am your ally. And I will do anything I can to help you through this. But I can’t do that if you’re in a prison cell.”
Aiko crumples suddenly, grabbing onto the kitchen chair for support. Akane rushes to help her up.
“I... I just had to do something. I felt so powerless. I wanted to strangle her with my bare hands, but she’d already been arrested. I asked to see her and they wouldn’t let me.” The words spill out thick and fast, as though a dam has broken. “And then, as I was leaving the station, I saw a woman walking down the road towards me. She had this striking silver hair, and she was smiling at me, and it was like she knew, even though I’d never seen her in my life. And as we passed each other, she slipped something into my hand… It was a piece of paper with an address. It said one more thing — the same thing you just did, that she wasn’t an enemy. For some reason, I trusted her.”
Aiko shakes her head, tears slipping from her closed eyelids as Akane supports her. They’re on the kitchen floor.
“I went right there. It was this decrepit building. And I knew something was off, but I felt like I couldn’t go back anymore. They just passed me the package. They said I’d be doing them a favour, no payment needed. I think I already knew what was going on. But then I got home, and I opened it.” She’s shaking like a leaf in Akane’s arms. “And then it really was too late to go back. And I was frightened, but more than that, I finally felt like I could do something about it. It was the first time since Keiichi died that I felt something more than powerless.”
For a long time, Aiko cries, and Akane holds her. She tells her the same thing she had told her daughters that night, mustering all of her authority and all of her warmth to promise that somehow, somehow, they’ll get through this.
***
A month has passed, and Aiko is bringing her husband lunch in his studio. It’s the first time she’s set foot there since Keiichi’s death, recognising it as a space where he can have some time alone. She finds him staring at a blank canvas. He seems to hear her approach.
“I loved this town when I first came to visit it, you know. Everywhere I looked, there were things I wanted to paint. And now I wonder what I was seeing.” He stares out of his window at the rice paddies. “I look, and I don’t understand what colours I should use, or even what strokes. It’s the first time this hasn’t come naturally to me.”
She sits beside him and takes his hand. She’s been so lost in her own grief that they’ve grown apart, despite her husband being there to comfort her day and night. This had been the first time she had felt ready to emerge from the fog, if only for a few moments, and focus on him.
They sit like that for a long time, and she doesn’t notice right away when he starts to cry, but she’s happy to lose track of time as she waits for him. And somehow, it feels like it’s enough.
***
When Aiko goes to bed that night, she lies there for some ten minutes before sleep begins to distort her thoughts. It’s the first night since Keiichi’s death that she hasn’t spent hours tossing and turning with anxiety. She’s vaguely aware of this and grateful as she descends into a world of dreams.
It’s then that she hears her son’s voice.
“I thought you’d read enough murder mysteries to know that that one wasn’t going to work.”
Her instant impulse, bizarre and from another life, is to admonish him for speaking to her that way. But he’s right.
“I didn’t mind if I got caught, Keiichi.”
He shrugs a little. He’s standing before her now, in a world with no sky or ground.
“What are the two of you talking about?”
That’s her husband, beside her now. She watches him open his mouth again, then bite back his words. She’s sure he was going to ask what this is, and that he only stopped himself out of fear that it would end as soon as somebody acknowledged that it couldn’t be happening.
“I’ll be serious for a second — yeah, I can do that, by the way.” Their son smiles at them, but his eyes are sad. “I’m sorry. For everything. I didn’t want to make you suffer like this.”
She feels her throat tighten. She scrambles to respond, the gravity of the situation hitting her like a bucket of cold water. “Keiichi, sweetie, don’t apologise.” She swallows before she carries on, trying to keep her voice from wavering. She speaks as fast as she can. “We were worried that night, when we realised you’d gone back out. We were angry. We wondered if you were at Rena-chan’s or Mion-chan’s houses.” She smiles at the way he flushes. “But when we found out that you were helping your friend, we were so glad. Oh, at first we were even angrier, yes — and when we heard the whole story, we were shocked, and we were scared. We wondered if you still didn’t feel like you could talk to us about these things. But we were so proud, so happy.”
Her husband continues for her. "Keiichi, all we’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy. I don't think we ever properly apologised. We’ve always tried our hardest, as your parents." He looks to her, and she nods. "But sometimes it still wasn't enough. I can only hope that in the end, here in Hinamizawa, you were content with the life you were living." She watches his jaw clench, the telltale sign he’s trying his best to keep his emotions at bay, something she’s seen so few times, she can count them on one hand. "You made us so happy." And Ichirou looks into his son's eyes. "Even now, even though our hearts are torn apart, we wouldn't change a thing."
For a while, Keiichi keeps his head bowed. He steps forwards, and before she knows it, she’s embracing him, her son, one final time. There’s nothing but air in her arms, and yet she is overcome with such love that it doesn't matter.
"Sorry I never listened when you told me to look both ways crossing the street, and everything." His voice is muffled and damp, yet still bright, still joking, still himself, even now. He pauses for a moment before continuing. “And about everything... from before. I know I apologised at the time, but I was only thinking about myself.” He looks up at them. “Now I know how much pain I caused you both. I hope you can see that I’m not that person anymore.” His eyes beg them for forgiveness.
“Oh, Keiichi. We know. But we’ve always loved you, then and now.” She hugs him tightly before she pulls away. The three of them are crying openly, now.
"Well, I don't want to drag this out." Keiichi wipes his eyes on his shirt, but he looks somehow at ease, at last. "I'll see you again soon, Mom, Dad. I promise."
When she wakes up the next morning, she feels both rested and calm. She spends a moment watching the sun filter in through the blinds before turning to her husband. The tears on his still-sleeping face catch the morning light.
"Rena, huh? It's a bit different, but it's still cute."
She smiles. "Thank you, Nagisa-chan."
"Still, I can't believe you've been through so much." The other girl bites her lip, voice fraught with worry. "To be honest, there was a lot I wanted to talk with you about, but you probably have enough on your mind without all my questions."
Rena fiddles with the hem of her dress under the table. "I knew you'd have things you wanted to ask. I'm surprised you even wanted to meet with me again. I'm really glad, though."
"Well, we've got time for all of that later."
Nagisa's voice is bright and warm, but she can feel the consideration underlying her words. Nagisa knows her time in Ibaraki is hard for her to talk about. She hopes the other girl can see how much she wants to make up for past mistakes by meeting with her now.
Nagisa speaks again, lowering her voice. “And you’re sure you’re ready to see your mother again?”
Rena flexes her fingers, then lays them flat on her lap, ignoring the slightest itch present at the skin of her throat. “No. Honestly, I’m not.” She looks down. “I don’t plan to fix things with her, even if that’s what she wants. But... it’s unfair to both me and my sibling if we don’t get to have that relationship because of her.” She pauses for a second before continuing. “I wasn’t ready to even think about it before, but it’s strange... After everything that happened, it came back to me. There’s someone out there who might need me. And maybe I need them just as much.”
Nagisa nods, then tentatively opens her mouth. “Well, I’m here now — if you ever need any help adjusting... You know I’m only at the other end of the phone.”
Nagisa offers her a small smile and Rena returns it. She’s so lucky, she thinks. She was sure all of this had been lost long ago. She's becoming distracted by her thoughts when her old friend speaks again.
"There was something else I wanted to know about your life since we last spoke... Tell me more about Keiichi-kun!"
***
When the day comes for Rena to see her mother again, she’s so anxious that she almost throws up. The night before, Mion stays over at her house. That morning she makes her breakfast, and holds her hand all the way to the meeting place, firm and reassuring. Every time Rena is quiet for too long, she squeezes. Rena always squeezes back.
Somehow, it goes okay. She doesn’t have much to say, and her mother doesn’t push her — she looks so much older than Rena remembers her being. Mion makes polite conversation, explains things about the life they live here in Hinamizawa, eyes constantly flickering back to Rena’s to confirm how much she’s comfortable having shared. She really does have the best friend in the world, she realises.
But though it’s not easy seeing her mother again, there’s something else occupying her — the little girl running around her legs, repeatedly grabbing onto her skirt, then tumbling down, giggling.
Rena smiles more than she has in weeks. She’s not sure whether the girl understands who she is, or where their relationship will go from here, but she somehow already knows that she’s gained something immense — a reason to keep moving forwards with her head held high, somebody to act as an example for.
“It’s such a shame. You don’t find people like Irie-sensei anymore. Usually at that age they’re already tired of their jobs, or they’re busy with a relationship. If they still live somewhere like Hinamizawa, they’re trying to get away. There aren’t many people who would dedicate themselves to a small place like that.”
Shion sighs quietly at the passing conversation as they make their way to the cemetery. Of course, even in Okinomiya, the Coach had had a reputation.
Her mother is beside her, carrying flowers from their garden. As they approach Ooishi’s grave, they realise they’re not alone. A short woman in a distinctive red outfit startles at their approach.
“Sorry, let me move out of your way.”
When she steps aside, the man with her follows. It’s then that Shion realises he’s the same man who had driven them to Okinomiya all those nights ago.
“Oh, you’re...”
“Akasaka. Akasaka Mamoru.” When she continues to stare blankly, he appends his statement with a friendly smile and a few more words. “I’m with the police.”
Shion supposes he must have said as much on the night, but remembers none of it. Her mother steps forward.
“Sonozaki Akane. This is my daughter, Shion.” She bows deeply. “I do apologise. I should have thanked you sooner.”
“Oh, no, not at all.”
He dips his head and moves away from the grave to give them some space, going back to the hushed conversation with his companion. Her mother sets down her flowers next to what she presumes are their own, then speaks quietly. “We never did get along, but still, I’d hoped that one day we’d be able to move past it all and laugh together… Thank you for what you and young Kumagai-san did.”
She bows again, and Shion follows suit. She stays that way for some time, and the words being spoken a little way away reach her ears.
“...Always taking jabs at each other, but honestly, he was a role model to me.” It’s the woman, her tone collected, but with emotion seeping through her words. “I had no respect for him whatsoever when we first met, but then I came to understand that we had similar values, even if we went about things differently. And of course, he was there for me at a time when nobody else was.”
“Ooishi-san had such spirit. He inspired me back when I had only just started out. He made me realise that it wasn’t always about doing things by the book. I wasn’t sure what I thought of him at first, but when I came up against tough situations, I always thought back to the example he showed me. The older I got, the more I realised just how great of a police officer he truly was.”
After a few quiet moments, her mother turns to her and nods. Before they walk away, Shion looks back to Akasaka-san and the woman with him — another police officer, she supposes. The woman nods to her, she nods back, and they go their separate ways.
Akane has to wonder if she’s ever seen such a complete cross-section of the region her bloodline rules over. Her mother, daughters, husband, and Kasai are to one side of her, Kimiyoshi and some of the other village elders are to the other, then there’s Okinomiya’s mayor, several staff from his office, Akasaka-san of the Metropolitan Police, Rika-chama, and finally, Maebara Keiichi’s parents. Across from them are several government officials nobody had been very precise in identifying to her. She had learnt many surprising things about Hinamizawa in the preceding weeks and what she understood by now was that the dealings Takano Miyo had been involved in ran deep enough to have the potential to uproot the country and its ruling classes. And nobody wanted that, did they?
Akane has dealt with the very upper echelons of their society. She knows these people’s language, loathe as she is to speak it. She understands the purpose of the meeting very quickly: to put everyone on the ‘same page’, the page that neatly wraps this incident up as being the fault of Takano Miyo and Takano Miyo alone. And while she has no sympathy for the woman, she finds it an insult to everyone in the room’s intelligence to try to pass off such blatant scapegoating right under their noses when lives had been lost. Above all, Akane cannot stand groups that abandon their own to the wolves as soon as it becomes convenient to do so. She listens to what they have to say, and then she speaks.
“Firstly, this Emergency Manual #34? It will be scrapped.” Her voice leaves no room for debate.
An official who is sweating through his suit speaks up, looking noticeably uncomfortable. “Well, we understand your feelings, but these things are complicated—”
Her glare is ice. “We understand how complicated these things are very well. It would be complicated for us if our loved ones were unwittingly and covertly mass-murdered to cover the government’s ass.” She hears her mother snort beside her. “You have no cards left to play. You will never carry out this plan without it becoming a denouncement of our country on a global stage. That’s a promise. Next,” she gives them no time to speak, “Furude Rika’s protection will henceforth be conducted by the Metropolitan Police, lead by Akasaka Mamoru.” She indicates down the table, and is surprised to see the otherwise seemingly warm Akasaka-san staring resolutely into each of the officials’ eyes. She thinks she understands a little better why the girl had insisted on him. “No more of these Mountain Dogs, not in Shishibone. Next, you will continue to fund the Irie Institute’s research. You will also seek out and expel every person among you who was in any way responsible for these incidents.” She stares down the man at the front of the pack, stern and unreadable. Or we will. Before they can so much as speak, she brings the finishing blow. “If you find any of these conditions too troublesome to meet, we will broadcast every detail of this meeting, your failings of and eventual plans for our village. Your party will never be trusted with ruling our country again.” The man gives her a thin-lipped smile, utterly cornered and fully aware of it. “Lastly, we demand compensation for the families of Kumagai Katsuya, Ooishi Kuraudo and Maebara Keiichi.”
The officials glance furtively at one another. She maintains her composure, as does every man and woman on either side of her. The men ask to talk, then remove themselves from the room.
She watches a few of her group relax, then begin to chat. She knows this battle will be a long one, but she also knows that it is one they will win. She smiles at Aiko down the table, and Aiko smiles back. Like this, they continue to move forwards, one step at a time.
***
“You okay?” She puts her fist against Mion’s forehead, and the other girl leans into her.
A sigh, weary but far from defeated. “Yeah. Wanna go to the clinic after this?” She smiles a small smile.
“That would be lovely.”
It had been a few weeks since the details of the conspiracy had come to light, unravelling the fabric of the reality they’d thought they’d known. Strangely, Shion couldn’t say she was overjoyed when she’d heard that Satoshi was still alive, in an induced coma in the basement of the Irie Clinic. It had simply been too surreal — for the first time since his disappearance, she’d barely had the time to think about him, and then her year-long prayer had suddenly been answered. So much that she never could’ve imagined otherwise had happened in such a short time, and it left her unsure of how to feel.
And then she had visited him, seen his face again, confirmed the rise and fall of his chest, and it had all spilled out of her — there, on that cold basement floor, she had collapsed, and cried and cried. She had cried tears of happiness, tears of sadness, tears for everything her life had been for the last year, maybe even longer — more than anything, she cried for her sister, because in that moment she swore she would do anything to give her this. She cried because she knew Mion would never experience the miracle of seeing her loved one alive again.
The guilt had eaten at her, and she had taken a week to work up the courage to tell her. When she had, Mion had sobbed, too. They had held each other for a long time, then. Once their shoulders were wet with one another’s tears, Mion had met her gaze and told her how happy she was for her, and all of her fear had dissipated to leave her exhausted.
Shion had told her, then — that she had been afraid that she might hate her, for finding some semblance of happiness in the midst of all of this, for having what she could not. For the first time, her sister had looked as though she might hit her.
“You thought I’d be angry that you were happy? You’re an idiot, Shion.”
The weeks since had been a frenzy of activity with the funerals, her first visit to the clinic, and the meeting. They still had one more important task.
“Does Satoko suspect anything?”
“Nope. She thinks she’s going to the clinic to pick up her medicine.” Shion smiles. “She’s meeting us there at three.”
Months later
“And this was his first day of school. I still remember, I’d just brushed his hair.”
Mion bites her lip to keep herself from laughing out loud. “He looks so mad! Just like when he lost a game in the club.”
Aiko continues to flip through photos from Keiichi’s childhood. In one, he has his fists planted on his hips as he poses in a superhero costume; in another, he’s caught in a moment of amazement as he finishes unwrapping a birthday present; in the next, his face is stained with chocolate as he grins a toothy grin at the camera. Mion realises he’d always been the same — so earnest, so eager to make the most of every situation. She reaffirms her desire to follow his example within herself.
Aiko sets the book down to rest a hand on her bump. “Oh, she’s kicking.” She addresses her midsection. “We’ll show you the pictures when you’re out of there, okay? I wonder how much you’ll look like your brother.” Aiko looks up, and catches her watching. “Did you want to feel it, Mion-chan?”
“W-Would that be okay?”
Aiko takes her hand and places it on the bump Sure enough, after a few moments, there’s the slightest hint of movement under her palm. She feels emotion surge through her. When she speaks, her voice is barely more than a whisper. “I can’t wait to meet her.”
As they’re talking, the photobook slips off the chair and falls open to the most recent page. The photo is of a much older Keiichi, looking a little nervous, standing in front of the Hinamizawa Branch School.
Aiko picks the book back up and stares at it for a while. Mion does the same, looking for traces of the person she had come to know in the hesitant smile.
“It’s unbelievable how much can change in just a few months.”
Mion looks up. Aiko is smiling.
“He found happiness here. He became the best version of himself.” And she looks into Mion’s eyes. “I can’t say I’d change that we moved here, even now. It was short, but it was the best time of his life.”
Mion nods, not trusting herself to speak. She tries anyway.
“It was the same for us. I know Hinamizawa changed Kei-chan, but Kei-chan changed Hinamizawa too.” In response, Aiko places her hand on top of Mion’s own, still sitting on her bump. Mion blinks back her tears before she speaks. “I promise I’ll take care of her. We all will.”
Aiko smiles. “I know. I’m sure you’ll be just like an older sister.”
Beyond the window, the sun sets, autumn-gold. In the place of the cicada song is soft silence, cocooning the evenings until everything begins again.