A/N: So back in November I wrote this novel length piece of fanfiction for a fandom which was new to me, but which I had become fully obsessed with. It's taken a long time to get it smoothed out, beta'd and smoothed out again. About a year, actually. To anyone who's been waiting for updates to other fics, this project has been a major culprit in the delay - sorry - and production for those others should step up, now.

On the up side, this fic is complete, and new chapters will be going up every Wednesday. There's fifteen parts all together, including an epilogue, so the last part will be going up two days before Christmas. You're welcome. :)

Historian's Note: This story takes place after the completion of the game, following the second ending, 'Vanished Promise.'

Soundtrack: 'A Memory of Rain' on 8tracks

Betas: SkyTurtle & Voice of the Shadow Realm

Disclaimer: I do not own Forest of Drizzling Rain, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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A Memory of Rain

Part I

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"The worst feeling isn't being lonely. It's being forgotten by someone you could never forget."
~ Anonymous ~

…

Steam rose from the cup, curling in the cool air before spreading out and dissipating into the dark, heat and life lost to the empty shadows.

The gentle curve of porcelain was hot against his fingers, and Suga did his best to concentrate on that; on the heat that seeped from the tea into his flesh, the joints easing as the chill damp of the mansion was chased away. He focused his gaze on the swirling amber contained in thin walls of white, the dark shadow at the bottom of fine tea leaves that had escaped the strainer. Anything, anything to take his thoughts away from the darkness that was even now creeping in along the edges of his consciousness, waiting to poison his mind and his heart with oozing guilt.

It was silent in the mansion, echoingly quiet after sunset when he closed the doors to visitors. Not that the mansion turned museum of local history was ever overrun with visitors. At most Suga, who played manager and host, could expect one abrasive middle school student who visited nearly every day and perhaps a handful of people who were passing through town and curious. Azakawa Village was not a hub of tourist activity, and all of the locals save Sakuma Miyako, the middle school student, tended to avoid the place if they could.

That was partly his own fault, he knew. As the manager and only employee of the museum it was his job to make guests feel welcome and comfortable during their stay, to present all the museum had to offer in the most interesting way and to encourage parting guests to come again and bring their friends. It was also his duty to advertise the museum to the world at large, inviting it to come in and marvel over the unique pieces of Azakawa that could be found nowhere else.

At the very least, it was his job to make sure that people were aware the museum existed.

But Suga had never been a very good businessman. Other than the sign he had hung outside the gate, announcing that the building was in fact a museum open to the public and not a private residence, and a small, rather bland article he ran in the papers of half a dozen neighboring villages announcing a 'Children's Free Admission Day,' he relied solely on word of mouth to furnish him with visitors.

Unfortunately the kind of word of mouth advertising he got was mediocre at best. Just as he had never been much of a businessman, he had never been a very personable man. He wasn't particularly unfriendly, he just didn't go to extraordinary lengths to be liked, and most found his manners off-putting. When meeting him for the first time, new acquaintances were struck by a few things quite forcibly. He was taller than average and lean, which only made his height seem much more than it was. There was a quickness about him, an abruptness to his movements and brusqueness in his words. The fact that he very rarely wore anything but black - a very practical color, he thought - only seemed to make him even less approachable. His coloring was much like his choice of clothes - stark. Pale skin and black hair that fell into eyes that were such a pale blue they were almost white.

The more politically correct citizens of Azakawa were apt to say that he was odd. The ones who cared less about politeness said he was creepy, weird or outright insane. It might all have been mitigated to a certain degree if he could speak to the people who came to see the exhibits. But Suga was mute, and had to make his thoughts known by writing them down on paper. If he could just give voice to what he wanted to say, then some of his 'creepy' reputation might melt away. True, he had been seen much the same way when he had been a child, and then he had been able to speak, though he hadn't indulged in the ability much.

When communicating in written form, so much was lost. Subtleties of tone and inflection, his memos were devoid of emotion on their own. And unless he wanted to spend an inordinate amount of time fleshing out every thought with his pen, he came across as curt, even rude, as his memos were always to the point. Those who could speak had so much more range, so much more quickness, and were often annoyed at Suga's inability to meet them at the same level.

So no, the Azakawa Museum did not get so many visitors as it was likely to, and that could be in part traced back to its manager, either through some failing of his own or some circumstance that was beyond his control but still very much tied to him.

But another reason why it remained so empty, so unvisited by either locals or tourists, had to do with the limited and bizarre nature of what was on display.

Azakawa was a small village, slowly growing under the guidance of a driven Council, and had been even smaller in its early days. Tucked in the mountains with the forest reaching its dark arms around it like a jealous parent, Azakawa was isolated from the outside world. The effects of that isolation showed in its citizenry, even to this day, but historically it had led to the development of some rather singular local beliefs, legends, customs and practices. With little to no outside influence, the people of Azakawa had come up with their own ways of dealing with the wilds that surrounded them, the mysterious minerals they mined from the mountains, and with each other when laws were broken. Without the watchful eyes and judgments of outsiders, Azakawa had birthed its own brutal form of justice, and from a vicious beginning had abused their liberties even further until they had birthed monsters of their very own.

The Kotori Obake was one such monster. Once she had been a woman of Azakawa, whose husband had been wrongly accused of some crime. He had been so accused because the punishment for such crimes was the forfeiture of their family, and the accuser of the man had desired the woman who would later become the Kotori Obake.

Her husband, her child, and her unborn babe were all taken and killed, while the woman, whose name history declined to recollect, was taken to the forest, to the manmade cave system. There she was forced to endure any number of horrors at the hands of her husband's accuser and the other men of Azakawa as 'punishment' for her husband's crimes. She died in the dark, cold and filth of that hateful place, and in death her hate and sorrow twisted her spirit until she became a yaksha, the Kotori Obake. A vengeful, obsessive spirit, eternally searching for her lost children, she took the children of Azakawa. Usually they were never seen again, sometimes they were found as lifeless corpses. She would form promises with the children, bonds between herself and her chosen victims, and then she would take them. But she was never satisfied. No child, however precious, could replace the ones she had lost.

Suga also believed that a part of her was driven entirely by hate. She took the children of the village, tore them from their parents and loved ones just as her own child had been taken from her as punishment on the people that had so betrayed her and her family.

She would have had free reign to do so, and perhaps the village would have disappeared entirely over time, picked apart by the woman's twisted spirit, had it not been for the Ogami-san.

If the Kotori Obake were the ravening wolf preying on the villagers of Azakawa, then the Ogami-san was the hunter to drive her back into the shadows of her forest den. The Ogami-san of Azakawa was one who knew the secrets of the night glowstone, the peculiar crystal native to the mountains. They knew the rituals and prayers that could light the secret heart of the stones, filling them with radiance and the power to drive away and purify evil spirits, including the Kotori Obake. For generations the Ogami-san had always appeared in the same family, a kind of inheritance and obligation, and that family was honored in the village, respected as protectors of the village. For many generations the Kanzaki family had protected Azakawa from the vengeance of a monster it had created.

Suga shivered, gripped the delicate cup in his hands a little tighter. The tea was hot enough to scald his fingers even through the porcelain, but it could not warm him. It could not touch the deep chill that had long ago nestled in his bones.

The wind picked up outside, the trees of the forest behind the museum taking up its aged, crack-voiced song as branches swayed back and forth across the sky. Suga imagined those branches reaching for the museum, hungry for it and the lives it once held. For this building had once been the home of the Kanzaki family, they who continually defied and defeated its mistress.

The forest didn't know that the Kanzakis were all gone now, the mansion empty save for the dust, crumbling memories, and one single imposter Ogami-san.

Suga did not care so much for the museum as a place of history. He respected it, of course, and understood perhaps more than anyone else of the village the importance of remembering the past. But there was only so much he could care the particular kind of history Azakawa Village had experienced. It was all so steeped in blood and filth that Suga had a hard time maintaining his composure when he was so near to it. Besides which, some of the most important aspects of Azakawa's history were not on display, but hidden away in boxes or in the manmade caves. It was a history full of holes that he presented to the public, more so than the average museum.

Suga cared for the mansion as the traditional home of the Kanzakis, the family that had taken him in, as his own home, and as the last protection of the village against the Kotori Obake.

He was the Ogami-san of Azakawa, now. He had been taught by the last Ogami-san of the Kanzaki line, Keiichirou, to take on that mantle in place of his son and granddaughter. The granddaughter, Kanzaki Shiori, had been sent far away from Azakawa Village in hopes of protecting her. Because she, at the tender age of eight, had made a promise with the Kotori Obake. In the true spirit of a future Ogami-san and a loyal friend, she had made that promise in order to save an equally young Suga, who had foolishly wandered into the forest to search for his mother. She had offered herself in Suga's place to that evil spirit without hesitation, putting her friend before her life.

As a child Suga had always been shy, more given to watching events unfold than to putting himself into them, but he couldn't stand by and watch his only friend by taken by the Kotori Obake right before his eyes. He had offered himself to save her, as she had done for him, but only succeeded in prolonging the time until the Kotori Obake would come for her, at the price of his voice.

When they told Shiori's parents what had happened, they had cried and cursed, hugged Shiori hard, and thanked Suga for what he had done. He hadn't understood why they were thanking him when it was because of him that any of this had happened. As a family the Kanzakis decided to take Shiori and flee Azakawa. Perhaps, they thought, with distance the Kotori Obake would be unable to complete her promise.

But to break up the family would be to sever the Kanzaki line, and leave Azakawa without an Ogami-san. Suga offered himself up as an apprentice to the aging Keiichirou. Both of his parents were dead, no one else wanted him, and he had a natural affinity with the glowstones. Looking at the frightened faces of Shiori's parents and grandfather, he had decided that taking on the responsibility of the Ogami-san as his duty. It was the best way he could think of to protect Shiori.

His first act as an apprentice, under Keiichirou's mournful guidance, had been to erase all of Shiori's memories of Azakawa and the Kotori Obake. Without knowing her promise, it was possible that she would never be claimed by the evil spirit.

Taking all memories of the village, where Shiori had lived her entire life, meant taking all but the vaguest of memories of her childhood. Including every memory she had of Suga, and their friendship. To Shiori, he no longer existed. In a way, to Suga no one but Shiori existed after that.

Old Keiichirou had instructed Suga in all he would need to know. Everything about the mining, processing and refining of the night glowstone, everything they knew of the history of Azakawa Village and the nature of the spirits they pitted themselves against, and all of the finer points of what it took to be the Ogami-san. Suga learned, absorbing it all and turning it all to his particular methods, determined that not a single child would fall victim to the Kotori Obake under his watch, but more especially determined that the promise of his friend would never be fulfilled. He would protect Shii-chan from the evil yaksha. She would not pay the price for his folly.

Suga had grown up, Keiichirou had passed away, and Suga converted the aging mansion into a museum. It seemed fitting. It was a place to remember the past and prevent it from repeating over and over, to teach the children why the forest was forbidden and what would happen if they dared to defy that rule; as Suga had once defied it. No more children should suffer what he and Shiori did.

It also seemed fitting, in Suga's darker moments, that the mansion be filled with the past when there was no more future to be had. Unless he took on some apprentice, then he would be the last Ogami-san.

Whatever his thoughts, Suga preferred his duties. He protected the village, he did his best to educate the children, and he ensured that Shiori was safe. So long as he was sure of that last, the rest… well, the rest didn't matter so much.

And then… Shiori had come back. With no warning, his childhood friend had come back to Azakawa Village.

He hadn't recognized her at first. So many years had passed; it was difficult to reconcile the brash tomboy of his memory with the pretty young woman he had been faced with. When he learned her name, his heart had stopped in his chest. Upon realizing that no, she truly did not remember him or anything of her childhood home, it had nearly broken. His childhood tendency of crying easily had nearly resurfaced, but years of learning to put on a stoic face had saved him. Instead of weeping, he had told her - through memos - to leave.

He had told his best friend, who couldn't remember him, and whom he longed nothing more than to embrace and relive the last ten years of their lives, to go away. She had to, to stay safe, and he had sworn that he would always keep her safe.

Except she refused to leave. Her outsides might have changed, but inside she was the same Shii-chan she had been as a child. Brash, stubborn, and able to talk him into anything; perhaps he had not changed much, either.

Against all logic, he had allowed her to stay in the mansion, expressly for the purpose of investigating her past, her family, and to try and fill a mysterious gap in her memory. He should have made her leave. He knew that now and he had known it then as well. He ought to have hardened his heart and made the girl go back to the city, back to the protection of a modern world, of a school and friends and ignorance. But his heart refused to harden when it came to Shii-chan. She might not remember him, but she still laid claim over much of him. She was the most important person in Suga's life, though to her, he was simply an unfriendly museum manager.

Then the storm came, and the rain that always seemed to give the Kotori Obake so much strength. Shiori had gone missing, searching for his troublesome regular Sakuma. And then the panicked search for her in the forest, fighting the spirits of lost children as they poured out in front of him, and finally finding her, his Shii-chan, unconscious, before the Kotori Obake's pool. Her memories came back. She touched his cheek and called him 'Suga-kun,' and his hot tears had mixed with the rain.

She had smiled as she whispered, "Crybaby…"

They had been lucky to get out alive, but not lucky enough to be free of the threat. The Kotori Obake was still out there, and Shiori now remembered the promise. There would be no sure way to keep her safe.

So Suga had reached a decision. He would remain true to his duty, would keep the promise he had made as a child to protect Shii-chan from the danger he had exposed her to. To do that would mean betraying her trust, but if it meant saving her life…

He took her to the train station. He lied to her, saying one day she could return. One day he would contact her and she could come back to her childhood home if she wanted.

It was so much easier to lie when one's words could not tremble, when all one said carried the implicit honesty of black and white.

She turned to board the train. He came near, touched her, and held the glowing crystal before her eyes as he had done when they were children. Realization in her eyes as the stone flashed, fixing her gaze; the hurt in them, the flash of disbelieving betrayal.

One of her hands had caught his sleeve and she gripped it tight as she called his name, begged him to wait, not to take her memories again, not again, please, Suga-kun…!

The teacup shook in Suga's pale hand. He drank the burning liquid as the wind continued to howl outside, looking for a way in. He was cold, down to his very marrow, and no amount of tea could ever hope to warm him.

How much of himself had he given to the stones? As the Ogami-san, just how much of his essence had he poured into the crystals to give them their purifying light? How much more could he possibly be expected to give?

He felt empty, hollowed out of everything that was warm or held any meaning, with only the cold, ceaseless rain left to fill him up again. Only one thought kept the sea within him from drowning his heart completely:

Shii-chan was safe. She was safe and could light the world with her smile, her warmth and her kindness. That thought, and the memory of her warmth touching him was enough to keep him afloat. For her, he could tread water for a while longer.

It had been many weeks since Shiori had returned home, and the weather was only growing worse - colder, wetter, and darker. Even for Suga's admittedly low expectations, the number of visitors over the summer had been abysmally low, and the coming months only promised less.

The Village Council was taking this decided downturn in the museum's already poor accounts to push its agenda for demolishing the building. The entire Council were all very 'forward thinking,' by which they meant that they wanted more traffic - and money - coming through Azakawa, and the best way to encourage that was extensive modernization. This meant that old buildings like the museum were directly in their sights for eradication.

It was difficult enough for Suga to communicate normally, but to be driven into a verbal corner and have to defend himself with his words was a level of cruelty only small town politicians could conceive. They made valid points when it came to the museum's sustainability, the need or lack thereof in the village for a museum, and it was getting harder and harder to make good arguments in his defense. More than ever he missed old Keiichirou. His mentor had been his support in all things, and had held some sway in the Village Council. If he were still alive, their chances would be so much better. Of course, if he were he still living, the building would be his home and not a museum, a public building up to the whims of a group of appointed village overlords.

Suga had to keep the museum standing, with or without Keiichirou. It was his home as well as his ostensible career, but more than that, it was Azakawa's reminder of the past. Without it, the forest would no longer be forbidden. Children would start disappearing again, and without the constant presence of the Ogami-san, the Kotori Obake might extend her reach beyond the trees. She might escape…

And then what would become of Shii-chan?

He would have to go to the Council and make his case as best he was able. Again. It was the only way he knew to stave off the coming demolitions, though he was beginning to feel the whole thing was an exercise to futility.

He would take Officer Mochizuki with him when the time came. The policeman knew how important it was for the museum to remain, that the forest remain forbidden. The young man had been a witness to a lot of what happened when Shiori and Sakuma went missing, and could be counted on with anything Suga might need support with. Technically he was an outsider, a new transfer from a large city, and as such his support might not carry so much weight to the Council members, who tended to view outsiders with suspicion, but Suga would take what he could get. Besides, having him come along had the added benefit of having an audible voice in his favor.

He would need more glowstone soon as well, he realized. Almost all of what he had possessed before Shiori's visit had been destroyed, decayed or otherwise used up in their battles. That would have to be remedied soon, or even with the museum standing the village would be open to the spirits of the forest. Suga would have to craft more guard stones for the forest, more accessories - pendants, beads and the like - and he would need a new katana to replace the one that had been broken.

Beyond the walls of the mansion the moaning wind was joined by a sudden downpour of rain. Suga sat silently, his hands growing as cold as the empty porcelain cup he held, and listened to the drops as they pounded against the windows.

…

A/N2: Uplifting beginning, yeah?

Yaksha: This is a Sanskrit word, according to Google, which will tie in later with other things that have appeared in the game. It's normally a benevolent nature spirit, found in Hindu, Jain and Buddhist traditions, but which in the game seems to refer just to an evil or vengeful spirit. So we're going with that.

Thanks for reading, everyone. See you next week!