Chapter 2 – The Watanagashi

Barely a week after he'd moved in, Mion announced that that day's club meeting was cancelled. Henry frowned, confused. Rika had excused herself from the club meetings the last few days, but Mion?

"Is there something going on?"

"You'll see if you go to the Furude Shrine tomorrow morning."

And on that note, she left.

Saturday morning. Henry woke up early and cycled over to the shrine. Why would Mion call him here and now? He could hear voices at the top of the hill.

It looked like some sort of market or fair was being set up in front of the shrine. People were walking back and forth, setting up gazebos and awnings. And in the middle of it all? Sonozaki Mion, orchestrating the whole procedure.

He tapped her on the shoulder and she nearly jumped out of her skin. She groaned with annoyance when she saw him.

"Hen-chan!"

Henry frowned; an expression that often sent lesser mortal into a panic. "Firstly, don't call me Hen. Secondly, I'm older than you, so you can't call me –chan. Anyway, I wanted to ask if there was anything I could do to help."

"Sure thing; start over there and put up some stands."

It was a long, hot day. Henry was working like a Trojan, partly to be helpful and partly the irritation of no-one stopping long enough to explain what was even going on.

"I'm guessing you're the new kid in town," a voice said behind him.

Henry's concentration lapsed for a second, and the awning he was supposed to be putting up came crashing down on top of him, smothering his yell of 'Oh bugger!" The voice behind him giggled.

Henry untangled himself from the awning, looking up. "Mion? That's wasn't funny!"

That just made the girl giggle harder. "I ... I'm not Mion."

He got to his feet, pushing the hair from his eyes. She was about the same height as Mion, and had the same vivid green hair and eyes. But unlike Mion's yellow t-shirt and jeans, she was wearing a white, sleeveless, roll-neck sweater and a grey skirt. She also wore a rope of gleaming ambers around her skinny throat. Her hair wasn't tied into a ponytail, either; it hung loose, and had a couple of yellow ribbon bows tied into it.

"Yes, I'm the newbie. Name's Henry Parkinson."

"Oh, I know that."

"How?"

"This is Hinamizawa. Everybody knows everybody."

"Except me."

The girl laughed. She seemed friendlier than the tomboyish Mion, too. "You'll learn. My name's Sonozaki Shion."

"Another Sonozaki? Are you Mion's older sister or something?"

"Younger twin. Do I really look like I'm older than Mion?"

"I've never seen you at school, and I haven't seen you around the village as far as I can remember."

"Yeah, I live in Okinomiya. It was better for my schooling."

"Fair enough," he grunted, wrestling with the collapsed awning, trying to get it upright again. Something twigged in his mind. "It was you I saw in the Angel Mort, wasn't it?"

"I work there on weekends, but I got this weekend off."

"Why?" Henry asked, slotting the last leg into the framework.

"I'd have thought you'd know by now. That's Mion for you; as open as a shellfish."

"I take it you don't think much of Mion, then."

"We're not as close as you might think, no."

"So, back to the point; what is going on?"

"Why, it's the Watanagashi, of course!"

Henry was none the wiser. "Err ... put that in moron terms, please. The Who-jima-gashi?"

"No, Watanagashi. It's only the village event of the year. There's a fair going on to start with, and then the religious ceremony."

"Sounds interesting. I might go."

"You will go. You don't belong in Hinamizawa if you don't."

"I was joking, Shion. Of course I'm going. If it's such a big festival, I can't not go. Besides, I've been working like a dog to put these stands up."

"So you're actually looking forward to it?"

"Yeah, definitely."

A thin smile tugged at the corners of Shion's mouth, and her eyes seemed slightly malevolent in the afternoon sunlight. "That'll be a first."

"Why?"

"To answer that, I'll have to tell you a story ..."

"It all started a few years ago," Shion began, once they'd retreated to the cool shade of the trees. "The government imposed a plan to build a dam a little way down the river valley. They said it would bring jobs to the area."

"There's a catch, isn't there?"

"To build such a dam would put Hinamizawa and a couple more villages upstream underwater. They offered us money to start a new life, but we opposed them. Most of us couldn't just up-sticks and start fresh. Things got ugly very quickly. They played dirty. We responded in kind. It was a bitter standstill. Then we got divine intervention."

"How?"

"Oyashiro-sama. The village's guardian deity. Some say he cursed the leader of the dam project. Whatever happened, the foreman was brutally hacked into six pieces. They still haven't found one of his arms ... or the murderer.

"The next year, on the night of the Watanagashi just like before, a couple from Hinamizawa who supported the dam project fell over the railings into a river gorge while sightseeing on holiday. They only found the husband's body. Again, Oyashiro-sama was believed to have cursed them."

"What?!"

"It gets worse. The next year, a priest at the Furude Shrine was struck down with a mysterious illness and died in hospital. His wife left a suicide note, and threw herself into the river. Her body has yet to be found.

"Remember the couple from the second year? The following year, his sister-in-law was beaten to death by a druggie. A child disappeared from the house that night, too."

"What about the next year?"

"The next Watanagashi ... is tomorrow. If the trend keeps up, tomorrow night, one will die, and another will disappear." Shion let out a laugh like she was insane, and Henry felt his hair stand on end. "Most of the village are wondering who it'll be."

"I'm kinda hoping no-one, to be honest."

"Whatever. I'll see you around, Henry." And with that, she left. Henry was stunned. If everyone knew everyone in Hinamizawa, how could something like that even happen?

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. It was going to be fine. It was going to be fine ...

It was, as it transpired, better than fine. The festival, which began at sunset, was spectacular. Everyone from Hinamizawa had gathered, trying out stalls and generally having a good time. Henry hid at the edge of the proceedings, keeping an eye out for Keiichi, Rena and the others.

"Found you, Henry-kun!" cried a voice, jumping up and grabbing him by the throat from behind.

Henry yelled out in surprise, before he looked over his shoulder and saw Rena beaming up at him.

"Hey, Rena. Where are the others?"

"I don't know," she admitted. She was still clinging to his throat.

"Do you want a piggyback? It'll be easier if you could see over the crowd.

Rena nodded, and Henry squatted down. He got a firm grip on her legs and stood up, almost staggering. Rena was considerably lighter than she looked. It did the trick, though; she could see over the milling heads of the many people.

"There! I see Mion!" she cried, after twenty seconds of confused meandering.

"Where?" called up Henry, none the wiser.

"Go straight ahead."

Henry fought his way through the crowd, Rena driving on like a mildly annoying back-seat driver.

"How'd you get so tall, Rena?" asked a voice Henry recognised as Keiichi's. He must have seen her head and chest bobbing above the crush of bodies.

Eventually, they broke from the crowd. They met Keiichi, Mion, Shion, Satoko and Rika there.

"You're late!" Mion scolded, jabbing Henry in the chest.

He let Rena climb down from his back. "Give me a break, Mion; it's like Dover out there."

The meaning was lost on the others. Henry sighed, and proceeded to explain that in his old school at Dover, it often got incredibly crowded in the corridors.

"Well, we're here now," he said, bringing the subject back to the here-and-now. He looked around at the group. Mion, as with yesterday, was wearing her yellow t-shirt and jeans. Only this time, she had an airsoft pistol holstered at her shoulder. Shion was also wearing the same as yesterday. Keiichi was wearing a black sleeveless top and red waistcoat, and a pair of khaki-green shorts and blue trainers. Satoko was wearing a pink sleeveless top and denim shorts. But it was Rika who stood out most.

Rika was wearing a white-and-red silk kimono, painstakingly decorated and embroidered. Henry reasoned it wasn't casual clothing.

"Hey, Rika; what with the kimono?"

"Didn't you know? I'm the shrine maiden." She let out a giggle and did a theatrical twirl."Do you like it?"

"It looks great! And no; I didn't know about the shrine maiden thing. Certain people decided not to tell me," he added, glaring at Mion. Mion let out a gasp of insincere shock. Shion and Keiichi burst into laughter.

"Anyway," cut in Satoko, before blood was spilled, "hadn't we better get on with the club challenges?"

"Yeah!" said Mion. "Whoever can do best at the stands wins!"

The first challenge was Rika's choice. She led them over to a stand with a cheerful-looking lady frying was looked like dumplings. The smell was delicious.

"Whoever eats the most takoyaki wins," she said simply.

"It's that simple?" Henry asked. Eating dumplings? He could do that.

Rika giggled. "Mii," she said, by way of agreement. Rika seemed to have a penchant for saying random, nonsense words like that.

"You the new guy?" asked the woman at the stand.

"Yeah, that's me," said Henry. As if you couldn't tell, he added in his head. He looked incredibly out of place in his heavy camo jacket, cargo trousers, dark t-shirt and battered trainers. Cap it all of with his favourite raccoon hat, he was easily the most distinguishable of the group. It didn't help that she probably knew all of the others anyway.

"You've got quite a nerve to take up that challenge. Rika-chan here's got quite the appetite for takoyaki."

Henry wasn't to be deterred. If he was ever going to beat Mion, he needed to do everything in his power.

In the end, Mion and Satoko came last, managing just four each before they claimed they couldn't eat any more. Shion, despite claims that she wasn't part of the club, downed five of the innocuous dumplings. Rena, six. Keiichi tried to eat nine in one go, but instantly ran off into the bush and was sick, and hence was disqualified. Rika managed eight without slowing, but had to excuse herself, as she had to get ready for the ceremony. Henry soon discovered why the others couldn't manage very many; they were incredibly spicy. Nonetheless, he swallowed eight and actually asked for a couple more for good luck.

"How did you do that?!" asked Mion incredulously, as Henry was halfway through his ninth.

He swallowed his mouthful, and said, "I love spicy food."

Mion sighed in resignation. "Alright, all those without asbestos tongues, follow me to the shooting range. Henry, finish that and meet us there."

Henry nodded, finished his takoyaki … and gasped in purest agony the moment she was out of earshot. If this was a cartoon, flames would be licking out of his throat.

"Too many?" asked the lady at the stand.

"I'll live. It was worth it to see the look on Mion's face."

At the shooting gallery, Rena was about to take up her position. Shion thrust the stand's other gun into his hands.

"Good luck, dragon-boy. Most prizes wins."

"Dragon-boy?"

"How else could you handle a mouthful of fire like that?"

Henry shook his head with exasperation, and took up his position. Rena had her eyes set on a gigantic teddy bear in the centre of the range. She fired at it, hitting it in the chest, but powerful as the hit was, all it did was make the toy shake a bit.

She tried again, aiming for the head. The bear swayed a bit, but didn't fall. Henry touched her on the arm to get her attention.

"Hold on a sec," he murmured. Physics and maths sleeted through his head. He estimated the height and weight of the bear, the weight and velocity of the cork bullets. The turning moment needed to knock over the bear. He raised his gun and shot at a small packet of sweets. It was not the sweets he was after, however. It was the recoil of the gun.

"Ok, on three," he told her, aiming his gun at the bear's smiling face. Rena's implacable desire for anything cute will not win her the bear.

"Three … two … one … fire!"

She fired a nanosecond before he did, unable to contain her 'omochikaeri' impulse any longer. However, it didn't matter. Both shots thudded into the bear's head, knocking it over.

"Here you go," said the stall owner, a sharp-eyed man. He must have realised that Henry hit it last because he thrust the giant stuffed bear into his arms.

"Thanks, but Rena can have him," he said, passing the bear on to the blushing Rena.

"Do you mean it? Do you?"

"Sure," said Henry, shooting down another box of sweets with his final shot. "I don't need a giant teddy bear, and you were the one who wanted to take it home. Plus, I still haven't repaid you for last weekend."

"You're too nice to that girl," laughed Shion.

"I guess that under this depressive, boring exterior I'm just a really nice guy."

"Nice work," said a man's voice from behind him. He heard the snap of a camera flash.

Henry spun round. Behind them was a tall man with a green baseball cap, beige trouser, a black vest and frameless specs. And, naturally, a camera on a strap. Henry was about to have a go at him for not asking before to take the photo, but decided it sounded petty. Instead, he said, "I'm sorry, but we haven't met before."

"True," said the man. "My name's Tomitake. I'm a freelance photographer from Tokyo."

"Hey, Tomitake-ojisama!" called Mion, realising who was there. "So you made it to the Watanagashi?"

"Couldn't miss it, could I? I've got some pretty good photos so far."

"Come on, guys! Next stand!" declared Satoko, setting off already. The others followed suit, leaving Tomitake alone with Henry.

"I take it you're new here?" he asked. Not intrusively, politely.

"Yeah; what gave it away?"

"Your accent, the broken Japanese, and the fact I've never seen you before. What's your name?"

"Henry. Henry Parkinson. I'm a sort of exchange student. I take it you're not from Hinamizawa either."

"No; I come here a few times every year because the wildlife here is so stunning."

"I see. So you like the Watanagashi?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Yeah, it's been quite good fun so far, and we've still got the ceremony to go."

"Hmm. I trust you know about the Hinamizawa murders?"

"Shion told me. Why?"

"It's going to happen again. I'm sure of it."

Henry gritted his teeth. "No. It's all going to be fine." It was hope rather than expectation that made him say it.

Someone thumped him on the shoulder. "You're too slow!" laughed a voice that could have been Mion or Shion. "Come on; the ceremony's about to start!"

The ceremony was taking place at the entrance to the shrine, away from the noise and hustle of the stalls. One of the priests was thumping a huge bass drum, sending vibrations through the ground. Henry, Shion and the club were the first ones there, and were right at the front of the growing crush. Rika walked into view, calm and collected, with a serious expression on her face and a huge ceremonial hoe taller than she was in her hands. The beat picked up, and Rika swung the hoe down, tearing open the padded cotton blankets. Henry took a couple of photos, but didn't want to take more for fear of being considered disrespectful.

Other priests were rolling bits of the shredded cotton padding into small balls and setting them on a tray to the side of the shrine. People were queuing up to take a ball of cotton each.

"Come on!" said Rena, dragging him over to the table. They were handed a ball each by the masked priests, and Rena led him to a stream. Burning torches were erected every few metres, creating orbs of amber in the deep blue night. People were kneeling on the riverbank, whispering to the cotton before setting it afloat down the river.

"You pray to Oyashiro-sama, and set it down the river," Rena instructed.

"Yes, ma'am," Henry said, before reciting the prayer.

Back at the shrine, Rika's eyes gradually became unfocussed, but at once more focussed. It was as though she was looking at something only she could see.

"Follow him," was all she said, in a voice much older than she was.

"So, what's the significance of the cotton?"

"It draws the corruption and sin from your body," she said matter-of-factly. Rena seemed to be an encyclopaedia on all things to do with Oyashiro-sama.

Rena shivered. "It's getting cold, Henry-kun. Shall we go home?"

"You can, Rena. I'm alright for now."

"Are you sure?"

Henry nodded. In fact, he wasn't alright. All he could think about was the mysterious Oyashiro-sama, his yearly curse, and who this year's victims would be.

He thought he felt something touch his shoulder. He looked around. There was no-one behind him. It felt weird. It felt … cold. Henry pulled on his jacket; he'd taken it off earlier because he grew too hot in the June heat. He guessed it must have been the wind.

It was much later before he moved again. Slowly, deliberately, like a behemoth awaking for the first time in a thousand years, he got to his feet. He turned, and strode purposefully into the night, the crunch of his feet on the gravelly riverbank like gunshots in the stillness of the twilight.

"Miyo, why did you bring me all the way out here?"

"Shush, Jirou. I didn't want anybody to find us."

I watch as the couple came into view. I am hiding in the very heart of the woods, behind a bush, spying. The tall man with the cap and glasses appears, followed by a young, shapely woman with blonde hair and chestnut-brown eyes. She is wearing a green jacket and slim grey trousers, with a yellow flower brooch on her lapel.

My mouth grows slick as I watch. They are clueless.

"Miyo, surely this is far enough. Why did you want to come out here?"

'Miyo' giggles girlishly. "Because out here, no-one can hear us."

Are you kidding? I'm right here. Stupid girl.

I wait for my moment. I can't appear too soon. I have to be patient.

"Jirou, what do you know about the curse of Oyashiro-sama?"

My ears burn. Oyashiro-sama?

"Only what the police have released. And I know that the next murders are going to take place tonight."

I slip my hands into my pockets, pulling out the two cooking knives I took from a stand at the festival. People can be so careless. They are good; twelve inches of stainless steel, and brand new by the looks of it. There are no scratches on the shining blades, nor are the blades blunted. My blood lurched with anticipation. It is time.

Oh yes. There will be murder tonight.

I give the branches of the bush a rustle to distract the targets.

"Who's there?" asks Miyo, in a faintly amused voice, as though this is some silly prank.

How wrong she is.

With a cry of fury, I pounce, utilising every ounce of strength in my legs to propel me forward. I collide with the man's chest, bringing him to the ground. I decide to bring down the man first; he is bigger and stronger than I am.

My momentum threw me off him, though, and I heard him yell, "Miyo, go home!"

I turn round, and screech with animal rage. As I lunge at him again, I hear a snap and a brilliant magnesium-flare of light fill my vision in my left eye. I lash out, blinded but hungry for blood. My knives flash through the air in scarlet arcs, slicing his arms and chest. There is, to my shame, no co-ordination to my attack, but it does the trick. The man collapse to his knees, exhausted from blood loss. I kick him hard in the jaw and he falls onto his back. I kneel on his chest.

"What are you doing?" he stammer, too weak to fight back.

A smile slides over my lips like an oil slick. I bare my teeth, running my tongue over them and relishing the shape.

"Oh no," he whimpers. "Don't … don't do this -"

How pathetic.

He is cut short as I plunge my fangs into his stubbly throat, tearing out his windpipe with a tremendous wrench. His hands fly to the gaping wound in reflex, and he is wheezing desperately to get oxygen to his brain.

He is dead by the time I tore off his vest, relishing the tenderness of his chest flesh, the chewy toughness of his arms.

Meat. The joy of the kill.

I stop suddenly; I'd just remembered. Miyo, too, had to die. My hunger could last a little while longer.

I watch her car roll into the drive. A huge puddle is spreading on her garden path. The matches in my hand. The diesel-soaked torch.

Takano Miyo steps into the puddle, and I know it is time. I cough, and step out of the shrubbery. She looks up, and I see not fear in her eyes; I see acceptance.

"You've done well."

That is all she said before the torch ignited the fumes from the puddle. I run from the scene, leaving Takano as a shrieking funeral pyre.