Prologue
Never, in all of ten years, had Hinamizawa seen a month so hot. The nights were humid, and made the residents of the small village uncomfortable in their clothes; however, the days, particularly the afternoons, scorched like an open frying pan. In fact, it was just the right temperature for the higurashi cicadas, which favoured the heat like a fish favours water, or a human favours air. Perhaps that was why there were so many of them in Hinamizawa in the month of June, 1983. Swamped in the fragile gold of the sun, they would take their places on the tree trunks and sound their song, not giving up until the moment they dropped off the bark and died. However, there would always be more to replace them, the higurashi that served as the background orchestra for the village and its residents, never seen, but never absent.
The cycle would continue over and over, and not end until the end.
