Chapter 1: Loose Ends
A/N: This an introduction to the main story. I feel our favorite Higurashi characters deserved at least their happiness but "Tokyo" remains the main focus.
Live well. It is the greatest revenge.
— The Talmud
Everyone, live on.
-Keiichi Maebara
Inside the Maebara Residence, the Games Club gathered around in the living room. It was an early Saturday night in the first few weeks of autumn, the very first real one in their lives after countless cycles of repetition. Last summer, they have saved their village from destruction in the hands of Takano Miyo and at last they can now live their lives in peace.
"Movie night!" announced Keiichi. "And look what the tape shop got today~?" He held out several VHS tapes.
"Awesome, Keiichi," exclaimed Mion.
"Yeah, Keiichi," said Satoko. "You must be loaded."
"What are we gonna watch tonight?" asked Rena cutely. "Rena would like to know."
"Rena, we should put it all to vote since there's a number of great films to watch here. It'll be up to vote though." He picked one tape. "I have Raiders of the Lost Ark here… and we have Star Wars: Empire Strikes Back, Caddyshack…"
"Oh, how about The Fox and The Hound?" Rena suggested.
Keiichi cocked an eyebrow. "Rena, that's a kiddy movie."
"Come on," Rena pouted, her face looking dangerously cute.
"Keiichi," said Rika. "You know how much she likes cute things. And tonight you got the whole house to yourself."
"Yes, I know but I want to open movie night something exciting."
"How about Escape From New York?" suggested Mion. "That's exciting."
"Gee, who would have guessed that you like action films," he noted cheekily.
"She's a tomboy, baka," Shion playfully tapped his head with a magazine.
"Hey," retorted Keiichi, annoyed. Everyone chuckled.
While everyone debated about the merits of a particular movie. Rika observed her friends in such a lively atmosphere. Many cycles of millennia, who would have thought about this would come to them, she thought. Back then, this scene would have been a pipe dream, to be destroyed by the madness that swept the village and swept away by a cold, existential cosmos. Lord of the Flies in rural Japan.
"Who would have thought we get to end of the tunnel?" Hanyu commented as she watched the scene with a smile.
"Yeah, who knew, especially with the light seemed so far away?" Rika agreed. "Getting to sit here and watch a movie, this is like a breath of fresh air."
"Or the taste of new wine." Back then, she was Ahab, forever chasing the white whale Moby Dick in an effort to end the eternal cycle of suffering. Then came her Ishmael, Keiichi, who helped broke the cycle they thought could never be broken.
Hanyu blanched at that. Rika was always fond of liquor and spicy food, both things the goddess hates. Then Rika looked out the wide glass doors that led out, moonlight shining on the grass with Shion's bodyguard Kasai standing guard with a few good men from the Sonozaki family. Shion and Mion aren't taking chances, securing a critical flank against any renewed incursion from the magnates of the old order. "I hope this would permanent – for us anyway."
"What do you mean?" Hanyu asked.
Rika looked at her. "Have you heard of Nineteen Eighty-Four?"
She gave her curious look. "Isn't that next year?"
"Close but not quite. Nineteen Eighty-Four is a novel by British author George Orwell. The story describes a totalitarian dictatorship covering much of the world. The influence of that book can still be felt today in terms like 'Big Brother' and 'though police' as well as the overarching rigid control and hierarchy of a police state." Rika paused as everyone voted which movies they wanted to watch. "Thinking about next year gives me the shivers."
Hanyu knew what she meant. "I see. But you could just be worried over nothing."
"At the moment, anyway." Her eyes looked distantly into space. "Fate always has a way of trumping efforts. And I also wonder... What if our efforts affected someone else, like rippling water after a stone was throne..."
"Or a butterfly," Hanyu suggested.
"Yes, a butterfly." Rika thought she saw a blue butterfly fluttering around in the room, close to the moonlight, searching for a way out. She blinked her eyes twice. No, it seemed, she wasn't imagining it. But how could there be a butterfly at night? Aren't moths and cicadas supposed to be out but not butterflies? She looked at it.
One many cycles ago, they were like that butterfly, flapping in the darkness searching for a light, a way out. She totally understood what it was going though right now. She blinked her eyes and the blue butterfly vanished. Yes, the world they created may be as fragile as the creature that disappeared. Would their happiness disappear too?
Some excited cheering broke her out of her trance. "It's been decided!" the Magician of Words called out. "Kicking off movie night would be Star Wars, starting with the first movie!" He held up the tape, with its cover featuring the character Luke Skywalker, Princess Leia, Darth Vader, the Death Star, C-3PO and R2-D2.
"Hey, Rika! We're all gonna watch Star Wars!" Satoko said excitedly as she took Rika by the hand and settled her down in the center of the living room. Why should she be worrying about future? Rika thought. This isn't a funeral, this is a celebration of life!
Her eye caught sight of an old newspaper sitting under the TV. It looked old, dating back from 1975. The headline read, "MOTHER BASE: STEEL CASTLE IN FLAMES! SINKS BENEATH THE CARIBBEAN! PARAMILITARIES TO BLAME!"
Then it hit her. She said to Hanyu, "You know what... I think fate wants tie up some loose ends. Horror vacui."
"What's that?"
"Nature abhors a vacuum." From the home entertainment system blared John William's orchestral score announcing the start of an epic long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.
Aokigahara, a forest of black trees nestling on the foot Mount Fuji. The black sea of trees was an eerie place. It was the abode of the yurei, ghosts of the dead, and had been a place of suicide. Growing primarily on volcanic rock impervious to digging tools, the trees form a dense carpet that made losing your way quiet easy. Above the forest in near total darkness, a helicopter flew well above the unseen canopy, struggling to keep speed in the air currents in order to mask its sound while straddling in almost pitch-black. The door opened and someone was thrown out, only to be saved a hand holding the collar of his shirt jacket.
"Please! Don't let me go!" pleaded the suit, barely hanging on for his dear life.
"Only if you tell me where they are," shouted Skull Face holding him over noise of the rotors, "will this be over for you!"
"We can talk this over," cried the man desperately, pleading. "I don't want to do anything with them anymore." A sharp tug sent his back on the floor of the chopper. He looked up to see the terrifying visage of his current captor, looking demonic in the red interior lights.
Skull Face turned around and closed the sliding door in swift speed and dexterity. "Well, that wasn't so hard, is it?" He knelt down. "So, where are they?"
He panted before he talked. "I-I-I kn-know were they are. Everything about the failed op in Hinamizawa had got them spooked. Everyone's spooked. They're meeting together in some place."
"Oh...," he chimed with interest. "And where to?"
"I know the place." He told them about where his bosses were meeting on this weekend.
"Are you certain about this?" he questioned. "The information would be suspect."
"I know I'm sure," he replied. "I dug as much as I could about them so that when the shit hits fan like it did now, I have my golden ticket out of here."
"Ah, so you wanted out? No one likes to stay on a sinking ship." He stood up again. He gave him his hand. The man, taken by surprise by this act of kindness at first, took his gloved hand and was raised up on his feet. "Thank you." He nodded. "A drink." A soldier, without being told, handed his boss a thermos, which he opened and filled the cup.
The man eased his breath, surprised at the reprieve, and drank a bit. He was apple juice, not whiskey that he expected. It felt good going down the throat. He was not sure why but he hoped that he would make it. Perhaps his generosity was unexpected. He was well away from distancing himself from Tokyo when he was caught. He hoped he could make to Europe, buy himself some good cars there, of Old World elegance and quality.
"I will let you on your way," he said, taking the cup from his grateful prisoner. "You are finally free." Then faced him and said, "You know something... I only have to put an eighth of an ounce of effort of what I did with that woman to learn much about your organisation, you were last bit she mentioned. And now that you mentioned your employers, I'm off to the next stage of my job here."
He acknowledged with a respectful nod. Nomura wasn't smart enough to know when the game was up. It did not take much to imagine how that ended up, especially how the disfigured cowboy had demonstrated.
He then added, "The woman was ten times the man you are, by the way." He gestured to the soldier to open the sliding door, which he did, letting back the wind in. The suit's eyes squinted from the rush of air blowing into his eyes and before he knew it, his captor swiftly and roughly restraint him, held him out of the open door.
"WAIT! You said this will be over," he protested in horror as he looked out the inky-black world beyond the helicopter.
"Yes, I did." His face formed into a grin. "I'm only giving you what is due." Then he pulled him back in and whispered into his ear, "Your services are no longer required, Mr. Hanada. See you in hell." A powerful shove was all it took to fly out of the door.
The man screamed as he hurtled to ground, waving his arms instinctively as the blackness approached. All his hopes of finally getting away, of finally getting his hands on old cars, were fast fluttering away as he was pulled closer and closer into the darkness.
The helicopter departed from the skies over the sea of trees, its mysterious passenger on his way to finish his purpose.
After this world war, the United States and the USSR may unquestionably emerge unhurt when all other nations are devastated. I can imagine, therefore, that our country, which is placed between these two giants, may face great hardships. However, there is no need for despair. When these two lose the competition of other countries in their respective vicinities, they will grow careless and corrupt. We will simply have to sleep in the woodshed and eat bitter fruits for a few decades. Then when we have refurbished our manliness inside and out, we may still achieve a favorable result.
—Lord Koichi Kido, to Emperor Hirohito of Japan, December 3, 1940
After the end of World War II, the world was split into two - East and West. This marked the beginning of the era called the Cold War.
―Naked Snake
It had been this way. The incident at Gifu demanded that they convene. Often before they had faced - and experienced - failure before but this was more than a setback. The ramifications it had for them and their ambitions was enormous. Their country's future direction was at stake.
At night the the wires burned as phone calls were traded, at the backrooms of upscale clubs and restaurants and at their places of work, at their homes they met in little knots, hushed discreet tones conveyed their fears. They cannot sweep it aside. It had to be met head on.
A general meeting was to be called for. No, a conference, for that it was. Everyone in the clique, the old gang, everyone with the colors, everyone still left from back in the bad old days must answer the summons as well as the new crop, the men who will succeed them. Nothing of this scale has been called for since they they gathered and created their informal group back in 1949.
They were "Tokyo", a fellowship born out of the ashes of the Second World War, preserving a dream of Japan's power and greatness after it suffered a horrendous defeat in the hands of the Allies. Most of its founding members had seen through the war as soldiers, bureaucrats, businessmen, while others had been but mere children during the conflict. To see their country in ruins, impoverished, their people starved and reduced to nothing but subsisting on their willpower, their devotion to the emperor and Japan, yet their pain, their faith had not been rewarded, had driven a deep and lasting wound into these men. From the moment they gradually found themselves and realized the passion they shared had not died out, they swore to bring their country back from the brink - and to avenge her defeat.
Beginning their work years after the fall of their country, they build their fortunes and their network. They slowly rose back to corridors of power, albeit behind the scenes for many of them. Now they are power brokers who can decide the destiny of the nation. Yet, it was only due to careful strategy, calculated planning and consideration of a cost-benefit ratio, close cooperation and coordination of their efforts, firm, unwavering resolve, keen senses of the world around them that managed this far.
A descendant of the patriotic secret societies that emerged during the first half the twentieth century such as the Black Dragon Society, they were the shepherds who guided the country's course from the shadows, they were the priests that preserved her heart and soul, Yamato-damashii, so they can be revealed when the time is right, when they can be strong, protecting their country from the subtle reaches of America, the country that for all its pleasantries of honoring self-determination, had considered itself their master, and even today still is. America's conduct spoke for itself in Latin America, Asia, the Middle East, and Europe. And this was an American decade as her influence experienced resurgence with the election of Ronald Reagan to the US presidency. Japan must not be dragged into that man's saber-rattling lunacy, not after achieving so much in what was an incredibly short amount of time.
In the Pacific Ocean a lone-ocean going yacht took them to an island in French Polynesia, the discreet gathering took place. So much was on the table that needed to be discussed, they know their time was fading and the future, altogether promising and terrible, was an opportunity they cannot afford to loose.
"It is without doubt a most unfortunate happenstance," noted a former politician and an imminent personality among conservative political circles. "The failure of Takano's project was disastrous. Millions in funding and years of research all gone to waste. We need to know why." He faced his cohorts, members of the secret brotherhood that they've started. They've grown considerably over the years with a few missing faces but not much else. The "commission" rarely admitted new faces, most of whom have to be vetted extensively by all of the core men of their gathering.
"That stinks of treason!" The man who cried angrily was the chairman of the political science department of Tokyo University, his outstanding lectures had given him wide acclaim. "We should have had a reliable man heading the project after Koizumi died, that late doctor of plagues had been too lenient of this Takano. A dedicated man, a man who puts his country above his own ambitions, would have done away with her nonsense and move on but this was a criminal oversight on the part of this group." He was also the ideological theoretician of the group, who can divine the patriotism in his cohorts and their plans and suggestions. An old hand who believed in purity of ideology rather than more pragmatic approaches of his cohorts. He was the kingmaker of the group, can make or break his fellow patriots in the room, making him about as popular as the plague. He was own side. Who among in the room will he throw his weight to?
"The Alphabet Project yielded almost nothing concrete!" cried a senior official from the Science and Technology Agency. "What do you have to explain for this?" At a corner of the room, a senior official of the Ministry of Finance smiled subtly and nobody noticed. Nomura had done her part well.
The men focused on two of their number, who was a member of the Defense Agency, wore his uniform proudly at work as a general should. Even the the cut of his suit reflected his modest outlook in life, he was a military man at heart. He sat rigidly, not flinching from the abuse he just received. He was the military representative of their group. Next to him was the deputy minister of health, his face impassive as he lacked the backbone of the soldier next to him. He wanted a cigarette but none was to be found and to ask for one now would be more than impolite, it would be seen as a lack of respect to this council. He stood in for his deceased superior, Koizumi, who died of a heart attack.
"We have not anticipated resistance from the villagers or the local police refusing to cooperate with us," the general answered in a clipped monotone he had long used in his service in the army.
"You should have pushed for it, bringing your power and authority to bear," charged the professor. "You were in charge of the project."
"And risk exposure?" questioned the soldier. "You well know I have an obligation to keep our dealings to secrecy."
"But you are a general of the Self-Defense Force," he pointed out. "Counter-intelligence unit Yamainu was supposed to be under your control."
"And I wasn't in charge of the local police," he replied evenly. He would not bow to this "school teacher". The bastard, when not teaching about the ramifications of the public's shift of opinion to the left, was flapping his gums about their country's political mysticism, which can hardly be helpful to them on their own. "There are limits to our power at the moment."
"Let's not lose focus of what we're here for," said the power broker, trying to keep the meeting in line. "We should start from the beginning." He turned to the general. "What is the status of the clean-up?"
"It has gone well, Kanamori-san," he replied deferentially. He knew who to respect. "Takano is in custody and the Irie institute is dismantled, every piece and square inch of it sanitized. We have the cooperation of the village elders but with the knowledge of our activities in the village of Hinamizawa, one of the so-called Three Great Houses, the Sonozaki family, has some leverage in our dealings with them."
"Isn't it the bunch responsible for responsible for dam protests?" one of them observed.
"Yes," answered another, the magnate of one of the country's leading newspaper, "and they were also responsible for kidnapping the construction minister's grandson and the murder of the construction manager in charge of the dam project." He did not know that it was mainly the Yamainu's doing.
"A lot of people are unhappy about that, with the Gifu prefecture being in the tail end of the country's economic prosperity," observed a third, which was an understatement as a violent backlash against the people of Hinamizawa and the neighboring villages resulted from that.
"And what do they want in return?" asked a board member of one of the country's largest banks.
"That they be left alone," said the general. "That they continue to live blissful, pastoral obscurity and some small compensation. Their terms are reasonable enough." He handed the banker a paper.
"Incredible...," said the senior banker, eyes wide in partial disbelief. "Very reasonable, with relatively little cost to ourselves."
"We should count what we retained to what we lost," suggested the deputy Finance Minister. "Nothing like this comes our way often."
"How do we know that they well not break their part of the deal?" asked the banker.
"I have arranged for that," voiced the Minister for Home Affairs. "As the SDF leaves, my people will take over surveillance duties over at the village."
"Your people?" questioned the banker.
"Yes, I'll have some domestic security teams maintaining round-the-clock surveillance of the village. They will be rotated every weekly."
"How good are these people?" the general asked.
"Quite good," he assured. "They know how to take orders and how to keep their mouths shut."
"It better be that," the kingmaker said. "The last thing we want are your sleuths getting too nosy for their own good. Let's go through by the numbers, gentlemen." He turned to the health ministry man. "You are Koizumi's aide. Can you tell us about science side of the Alphabet Project?"
A/N: I imagine that due to the endless cycles they've been through, they may not have time to watch a number of iconic 70's or 80's movies. For me, having them watch Star Wars from the very first would represent a fresh start in their new lives. Also, Mr. Hanada is Shirou Hanada, a villain from the Higurashi visual novels.