Dedicated to:

The original fans that made the original Redemption possible,

And especially to Cherrylin94 for inspiring this rewrite and generally making my life incredibly fun.

Oh and I absolutely own Higurashi. If anyone tells you otherwise, prove your loyalty by burning them at the stake.

The Prologue:

Gods and Dreams

Have you ever wondered why men keep their promises? Ever wonder why we go to the lengths we do to keep our word even when keeping that word means dragging your feet through the rank bogs of Hell? For me, I always thought it was for the sake of vengeance—that and a potent thirst for a taste of a most sought after truth. That's what I used to think anyway. But I knew that day as I gasped for breath, death and decay surrounding me on all sides, that no lust for revenge or desire for revelation could possibly be enough to keep me from turning tail and leaving that awful place. I was on my hands and knees like a broken beast, my eyes watering and stinging from the potent smell that hung in the air like a thick cloud of smog. I could even taste the death in my mouth as I fought to fill my lungs without gagging on these horrifying senses.

By the time my eyes had adjusted to my dark surroundings (which was quite some time as I could scarcely force myself to keep them open), I noticed that my companion had left me. He probably went running for the exit. And I couldn't blame him. He had no promises to keep him here.

I clutched my stomach as the taste of death was suddenly mixed with the distinctly sour flavor of bile, producing yet another unpleasant scent for my nose to cringe at. "Oh God," I groaned weakly, "why?" And Heaven help the poor Lord because he was probably fed up with me asking him that question by now. This wouldn't have been the first time. I found myself always asking that same stupid question wherever Jack Lanyon involved.

I wiped away the bitter fluids trickling from my chin as I shakily got up onto my feet. It was a strange feeling, really, to be the one spark of life surrounded by a sea of death. Perhaps even more disturbing was the thought of someday getting used to such a thing. Almost as if to test my grasp on my sense of humanity, I took a deep breath and forced myself to gaze down the narrow hallway to my left that's path was paved with corpses and its walls painted by blood. I couldn't help but feel a bit relieved when my gut gave a familiar lurch that made me gag with disgust at the sight.

"Shit, I'm not built for this kind of thing, Daiichi." I chuckled, desperately trying to not utterly lose myself in the gravity of my situation. "You were always the soldier. Not me."

Swallowing my fear, I made myself examine the mass of bodies again and tried hard not to let my eyes tarry long on the deep, numerous gashes that riddled their flesh indiscriminately. Many of them were mutilated so severely that the only thing that easily allowed me to distinguish one corpse from another, apart from its sex, was its attire. I could make out the uniforms of the neurologists, psychiatrists and orderlies who had worked at this "asylum", in spite of the fact the fabric that covered their bodies had been mostly dyed crimson since their deaths. All of them were probably just more innocent pawns in this game Jack was playing…a game that had brought countless life stories to an unwarranted end. And for what purpose? Back when all this started I used to think no one man could stain his hands with so much blood without a reason—no matter how twisted it might be.

That's why, for my own sake, I wanted to know what Jack's reason was. I wanted to know why I have to live under the weight of a promise I made to a dead man. And on the day when I finally find out why, I think I'll finally be able to breathe again. That weight will be gone. But as I stood at the mouth of that dark and bloodied corridor, unable to count the dead in front of me, that weight got even heavier. And for the first time I wondered if maybe Jack just didn't have any reason at all.

I took one step forward into the darkness, hearing my shoe make a wet, squelching noise as I tried not to think about whose remains I would be disturbing, when something caught my attention. It was a corpse, sprawled out on the ground a couple of meters in front of me. I hadn't noticed before because the dark green color of his uniform hid him so well in the shadows. But I recognized the make of his clothing enough for him to stand out. I could feel my heart starting to race as I trudged through the thick swamp of death towards this man's remains; adrenaline coursing through my veins and making my whole body tingle.

When I was close enough, I crouched down next to the man but even from that distance, it was too dark for me to inspect the body. So eagerly I rifled through my jacket pocket in search of my match box and when I found it, I quickly lit a match with a crack that tore through the silence like a gunshot. The light it provided was unusually dim, as if the enshrouding darkness was actively trying to swallow up my little flame. But luckily, I didn't need much light to confirm what I was already sure of. "Oh, no…" I felt my stomach drop so hard at what I saw that it almost pulled me down to the ground with it. "That uniform…I'd recognize that uniform anywhere. You were Banken, weren't you?"

As one might expect when talking to a dead body, there was silence for a few moments. But then a voice suddenly called out to me from the darkness, invading my ears like a jolt of electricity that stopped my heart and sent my shooting up onto my feet. "Y-you know…of the Banken? Are y-you with Tokyo?" stammered the voice, sounding so hoarse that I could just barely make out that it belonged to a female. And judging from the sound of her voice I could tell that, whoever she was, she probably didn't have very long to live. But when it comes to matters involving Jack Lanyon, I've learned one should try to assume as little as possible. Still holding the match in one hand, I drew my pistol from its holster and aimed it down the hallway where the voice was coming from, glaring into the impenetrable darkness ahead.

"My name is Lieutenant Stride!" I shouted. "To whoever I'm speaking to, come out now where I can see you and make no sudden movements!"

I heard the woman cry out, a note of what sounded like relief in her feeble voice but I could not hear what she said over the gunshot that quickly followed. The next thing I knew my pistol was flying backwards out of my experienced grip; forcibly knocked free by the speeding bullet this stranger sent my way. I staggered back and instinctively threw my hands up in the air, dropping the match and stomping it out to make sure I didn't end up cremating everyone in the corridor. For a split second I thought of running, but there were a few things I realized then that stopped me. Number one: clearly this person was armed. Number two: as dark as my surroundings were, I was able get a rough idea of how far my opponent was from me by listening to their voice and I could only guess the distance was considerable. Therefore, not only was the shooter armed, but she was armed with something a trifle more deadly than my pistol to have shot it out of my hand like that. And number three: she can apparently see right through this darkness that blinded me.

Indeed. This was not someone I wanted to show my back to.

"L-Lieutenant St-Stride…" she repeated. Was she weeping? "W-with a fancy t…title like that, you m-must either be w-with T-Tokyo or the military. W-which is…it?"

"Neither," I answered, the frantic beating of my heart betraying the calm tone in my voice. "Not anymore anyway. In another life I was a member of the group you call 'Tokyo'." I paused and looked down at the Banken Mercenary lying dead at my feet. "Just as well. It looks like their days are at an end anyway."

"Th-then...d-did your p-p-parents name you 'Lieutenant', Lieu-Lieutenant Stride-san?"

I looked back into the darkness. So my opponent was not only deadly by had a sense of humor to boot. That combination did not bode well for me. "No. My parents named me 'Eric'. My name is Eric Stride."

"Lieutenant Eric Stride?"

"Yes. I'm a Lieutenant. But I'm not military and I'm not one of Tokyo's dogs either. I'm with a different sort of organization."

"The n-name?"

"Baku," I answered plainly.

Silence filled the corridor again. I stood motionlessly. I could feel the shooter's eyes on me, staring at me with eyes that cut through this dark place. Was she just waiting for me to give her a reason to pull that trigger? "Are you going to kill me?" I finally asked.

"F-first…tell me how you got in this place," she replied. "Y-you're new here. If you weren't…if you w-weren't you'd be dead like th-them. But L-Lanyon…he locked the doors so no one could leave. S-So they would all…die. Only he got a-away."

"The doors were locked, yes. My partner and I were able to break them down though."

"Where is…your partner?"

"Not here. I'm assuming he left when he saw all the bodies."

More silence. Followed by a question. "Why?"

If I hadn't already witnessed her incredible marksmanship skills first-hand, I would have thought I was speaking to a small child. "Because he got scared."

"And you are…not scared?"

I shook my head. "I'm beyond scared. Only a monster could look at all this death and not be afraid."

"Then w-why h-haven't you left too?"

"That's a long story…" I told her. "But suffice to say I'm still here because of a promise I made once."

And then she went quiet again, and cautiously I lowered my hands back to my sides. This time, the silence went on for an unbearable amount of time. I can't recall how long I stood there, quaking in fear. But I do recall making the decision to try and leave while she seemed distracted, but then an idea popped into my head. This woman knew something. True, I couldn't deny the fact that she was clearly mentally unstable. In fact, she probably used to be one of the mental patients here. That would explain why she appears to be the only survivor. She was probably locked safely away in some padded cell when the killing started. But crazy or no, she had to know something about what happened here and—more importantly—how Jack was involved. If I could convince her to leave this place with me, she could become quite the liability for the dear Dr. Lanyon, something that I think would not be a hardship for her.

And so I smiled into the blackness, hoping her powerful eyes could see the friendly mask I was wearing to conceal my fear and suspicion. "Can I ask what your name is?"

"W-why?" she said.

"Well it's only fair, right? You know my name, after all."

There was a long pause on her end, as if she had to think about how she would answer what for most people would be a very easy question. "The doctors a-all always called me… 'M'."

" 'M?' Did the doctors address all the other patients here like that?"

"There were n-no others…J-just me…"

Impossible, I thought. This facility was too big and, not to mention, too heavily staffed to be devoted to the study of just one psycopath. But she could believe whatever she wanted about that. That wasn't the information I came for.

"Where were you when all these people died, M?"

The only reply I got from her was some low sobbing.

"M?" I called out, trying to sound concerned but the woman only continued to weep. "M, I know you're scared. But I need you to try and remember, okay? Let's just talk and then we can walk out of here together and we'll get you help."

"I…" she began suddenly, her voice sounding weak but she strained it so I could hear her, "will not kill you. Y-you…are not like the others."

"The others?"

"Yes…The ones I had to k-…kill."

"The ones you had to kill?" I tried to conceal the alarm in my voice. If I sounded shocked that would only make her feel threatened. I had to be her friend now if this was going to work. So I took a deep breath, and I calmly asked her, "How many did you kill?"

A miserable sob broke out from down the hall, followed by her tearful response. "All of them…"

For a split second, I almost believed her words. But that simply didn't make sense. No one, no matter how good of a shot or how well they could see in the dark, could possibly have killed all these people alone! The bodies that littered this corridor were only a small portion of the death-toll in this building. I knew before I came here that there used to be at least three-hundred employees working here. That's three-hundred amongst the dead—not even counting the Banken mercs Jack had apparently stationed here in secret.

But when a crazy mental patient has got a gun aimed at your head, that's not really the time to start disputing facts. So again, I just quietly waited for the woman to continue. Maybe I could get some straight facts from her after she got out of here and had time to clear her head. It was my best chance anyway.

"T-tell me…where is this place?"

I shot the darkness an incredulous look. "This building? It's the Lanyon Center of Neurology and Mental Rehabilitation."

"No. I know that…I kn-know the name of this place. But…where is th-this place?" The effort it seemed to take for this woman to speak only grew with each question she asked. "Wh-when they brought me here…they…covered my eyes. I have not b-been outside since."

"In the Chuubu region," I told her. "This facility is built into one of the mountains."

"Hi….Hi…Hinamizawa…is not far from here then?"

I hesitated. It had been a very long time since I had heard that village's name. What were the odds that this woman of all people would be asking about it now…?

"Please…" she said, in the loudest whisper one could possibly muster. "T-tell him…"

'Him'? Who was she talking about? Did I hear her wrong?

"N-no," I said hesitantly. "Hinamizawa is not far off. But it will take a long time to get there through the mountains on foot. Why?"

Again, she took her time answering. "I must…I must return there. Soon. And also…I made a promise to someone once, too. Someone…I…hurt."

She began coughing. Violently. By the sounds of it, I could tell this woman needed medical attention desperately. I couldn't lose her. I couldn't lose this "M". Never before had I been so close to having an actual lead on what Jack Lanyon's goal was in this game. I knew that if I lost M, my hopes of ever being able to breathe freely again would die with her. "Just hang on!" I cried out urgently. "I'm going to come over there and help you to the exit!"

"S-stay where you are!" she shrieked, causing me to throw my hands back up in the air. "L-listen to me…Lieutenant…L-listen carefully. I…I cannot go with you. I m-must return. When I l-leave you must stay here for t-ten…minutes. T-to give me time. D-do not…follow me."

"You can't leave on your own, M! I can hear your voice. You're crying! You sound weak and injured! There's no way you can make it through these mountains alive!"

"Th-the voice…the voice…you have b-been hearing…is not…mine," she answered, sounding more feeble than ever.

"…What do you mean?"

"I have b-been whis…whispering…to her. Sh-she has been speaking…for me. I can't…let you know…what my voice s-sounds like."

"Who the hell are you?"

"I…am 'M'."

"No! Who am I speaking to?!"

"This…woman's name…is Julia…"

My heart stopped for the second time that day, and a chill crept through my body that made me feel like death.

"Sh-she says she…knows you."

"JULIA!"

I charged forward into the darkness, tripping and stumbling over the bodies that were in my way but I did not stop. As I got closer, I thought I heard a man's voice but I was causing too much commotion myself to catch a word of what he said. It didn't matter though. All that mattered to me right then was reaching that ghost at the end of the hallway that I called to by name. "Julia!"

Out of the darkness I saw a shadow of a man emerge, tall and lanky. I could feel his gaze lock on me, and for a second I could have sworn I saw two small golden dots of light flicker where his eyes should have been. But as the man moved past me, he tore his gaze away and as silently as a shadow he sped down the hallway in the direction I had come from and vanished from my sight. And there went my one shot at finally having the means to strike against Jack. But I had other concerns at that moment.

With another hiss, I struck a match alight and made my way steadily down the hall. "Julia! Are you still there?"

"Y-yes…" she replied softly, her voice quiet enough to tell me I must be getting close. "I'm sorry…Eric….Y-you can't help me …"

I ignored her. That was not a thing I wanted to hear from someone who might as well just come back from the grave. "I thought you were already dead, Jules."

The pathway of corpses finally ended when I came to the end of the corridor. Instead of my feet landing on solid ground, however, the floor beneath me felt soft and left me a little off balance like trying to stand on a mattress. I held my match up and tried to examine my surroundings as best as I could in this light. Next to me there was a door—a heavy metal door that looked like it was designed to never be opened. And yet here it was, leaning precariously against the door frame it was once attached to; only staying connected by a single hinge.

"Heh…h-hope you got used to that idea…Eric…"

I turned my head in the direction of her voice and felt a knot tighten in my throat when I saw her. She was lying on her side a few feet from where I stood, her blonde hair sprawled out around her pale head in tangled knots and her soft blue eyes staring up at me with a fleeting glimmer.

"Don't say stuff like that, Jules," I whispered, smiling reassuringly at her. "What's that annoying little expression you always used to always use? 'Hope's only lost when we can't be bothered to look for it.' You don't get give up on me after all the times you nagged me with that one."

She chuckled at that, a chuckle which turned into more coughing. "Heh…I…never said…anything…about having lost hope, Eric…" She paused to try and catch her breath. "In fact…n-now that I know you're…still around…I have more hope than ever. I just know when I've been beaten."

I blew out my match and tossed it aside before I stooped down next to Julia. In this darkness, I couldn't see her face very well, but I needed two hands free to pick her up and cradle her upper body in my arms. "What happened here, Jules? Who did this?"

"It was 'M'. That…kid…I'm sorry I didn't t-tell you…who I w-was earlier. I w-wanted to but…he w-wouldn't let me."

"He killed everyone? Everyone? Even the Banken?"

"Y-yes…" She clutched onto my shirt tightly as she drew in a sharp breath through her teeth. "Oh God…Eric…I don't h-have…much longer."

"Julia…"

"Listen!" she snapped at me urgently. "It…wasn't just the B-Banken. Lanyon…he meant for this to…happen. He lured T-Tokyo here. I tried to warn them, Eric… I tried…"

"I know, Julia…" I assured her. "I know…"

Against my better judgment, I pulled Julia in close to my chest and pressed my lips softly against her cold, damp forehead. I could taste death on her…it was like she really was a ghost.

"Jack…he's going to take Tokyo…" she told me, her voice muffled as she spoke into my torso.

"I know…"

"He has to be…stopped…Eric."

"I know, Julia."

I felt her grip on my shirt weaken and her body began to tremble as she spoke. "Promise me…you'll end it. For me…and for Daiichi…"

A deep sigh escaped my mouth as I closed my eyes slowly. "I promise…"

A bleak night sky hung over the busy city streets which shimmered like an intricate golden stream of twinkling car lights. Even for this city, things were unusually busy at this hour. A silver-haired woman sat comfortably in a cushy conference room chair, taking this scene in from the top floor of some tall, once-proud building that's legacy would be forgotten soon enough. The pale light of the full moon cast an eerie glow on her silver hair and cold, violet eyes that stared pensively through the window. It gave her an almost ghostly luminescence.

Held in her hand with extremely tempered elegance was an unusually clean wine glass that's contents she had downed about an hour ago. Behind her was a long, polished oak conference table surrounded tidily by about a dozen other important looking chairs that would probably never be sat in again after this night. On the edge of that table closest to the woman was a telephone left off its receiver that she had been trying to use to call a long list of dead men and women. And at the opposite end of the room was a door that had just been opened by the only thing in this world that the woman feared.

"Good evening," said the man standing under the doorframe.

The woman did not want to give him the satisfaction of her own fear. She swallowed hard, and carefully taking in a deep breath to calm her nerves. But she said nothing.

She heard the man shut the door behind him.

"I think congratulations are in order," he said coolly. "You are a woman of a hundred names and identities. Makes you very hard to track down. In the beginning, you actually had me fooled that all these characters you'd created for yourself were actually real people. But…imagine my delight when I discovered instead of having to kill a hundred more people, I'd really just have to kill you."

The woman shuddered to hear this in spite of herself. After all, it wasn't as if she hadn't been expecting this…

"It is a shame really though…As useful as your many names were, they were also your undoing, my friend. Just a week ago, you were the most powerful woman in all of Japan. 'The Puppeteer of Tokyo'. All along, you were the secret head of the most influential political organization in the all the Eastern world. And only you knew about it."

She did not dare wipe away the tear rolling down the side of her face lest she draw attention to it.

"Do you know, my dear," he continued after a long pause, "how to kill a god? Do you know how immortals…die?"

She had to close her eyes. She had never wanted to cry so badly…she wanted to crawl away somewhere and just hide from this man—cover her eyes and just wait until she woke up from this nightmare.

"I'll tell you. Gods die when they are forgotten," he said. "Men and women throughout history have done tremendously great and tremendously evil things to ensure they would never be forgotten—to guarantee themselves a seat with the immortals of Olympus. These beings still live on, even in death, because their names are written in our history books, entrenched in our minds, and so often spoken by our lips. You, my friend, have accomplished things that make you legendary—things that would have made you a god."

There was a knot in her throat making it difficult for her to swallow. Her lip quivered. And her heart painfully beat like an executioner's drum roll.

"But you are not a god…" She tensed reflexively at the sound of a gun being cocked. "And that is because you never existed. Isn't that right? Because it wasn't 'Nomura' that seized control of the infamous Tokyo from Old Koizumi and arguably spent the next few years as ruler of the entire Eastern world. That wasn't 'Maizawa' either…or 'Watanabe'…or any other of your many, many aliases."

She could sense him standing right behind her now, looming over her chair with his gaze fixed on her.

"Those were your accomplishments, my nameless friend. But without a name, the memory of the things you did in this world will fade away as surely as a dream. And just like most every dream the people of this city are having right now, your time is almost over. People will wake up tomorrow, when you're dead, and they'll go about their daily lives and by the end of the day it will be like you never existed at all. Your very existence will have been nothing but a dream."

She could not hold back the flow of tears anymore when she felt him press the mouth of his pistol against the back of her head. The delicate wine glass in her hand shattered when she clenched it in fear and droplets of scarlet trickled from her tattered palm and onto her lap. Even if she saw any sense in running now, she was too scared to move. She felt like a child again…to be this afraid. In her mind, she called out for her father to come and save her. She thought of his face…and of her mother's face. She thought of all the people in her past that had ever protected her…childhood friends, former lovers, teachers, her classmates…all those people who couldn't protect her now because they were part of a past that did not exist.

"And now it is time for you to wake up from your dream," announced the man morbidly. "It's not all bad though. Just because you will fade does not mean Tokyo will. Rest assured, this company will flourish under my leadership."

He pressed his pistol harder against the back of her skull, taunting her with it.

"Now, do you have any final words for me?"

"Y-yes…" she whispered.

"Well? Stand up and let me hear them, my dear."

The woman's body was trembling so horribly that it was almost impossible for her to pick herself up out of her chair. Even when she managed to get up on her feet she felt like she might collapse any second.

"Look at me," ordered the man. "Turn around and look death in the face."

And so she did. Slowly. And when she saw the face of her executioner, her mouth gaped open with fear.

The man pressed the gun to her forehead. "Now speak," he said.

And the woman inhaled deeply, knowing it would be her last, and she spoke. "My name…M-my name is—"

The man shifted his gun from her forehead, moving it down along her face quickly and cramming its barrel in her open mouth before she could get that final word out. Her normally narrow eyes opened wide, the fresh tears pouring down her face silently and desperately pleading with him to let her finish.

"Nice to finally meet you," he said to her with a wicked smile. "My name is Jack Lanyon."

The gun fired.

And a woman who never existed fell dead on the floor.

And Now a Word from Your Minister…

Good to be back. Just like with the original Redemption's prologue, if this didn't confuse you, then I did my job wrong. Leave a review anyway though please? They delight me. See you next chapter.

TTFN – Ta, Ta For Now