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Return to Hinamizawa I – Predestination Chapter

narrated by Teramachi Miaka

The evil deed is like a boil:
it itches and irritates and breaks forth. It speaks honourably.

"Behold, I am disease!"
Thus speaks the evil deed; that is its honesty.

But the petty thought is like a canker:
it creeps and hides and wants to appear nowhere,
until the whole body is rotten and withered by little cankers.

1
Going Under

I faced my enemy, my breath tight. There was fear in her eyes, sweet fear; I could almost taste its sweetness. As for the other one, the man, he lay on the floor behind me, screeching in pain. I felt no sympathy. He was the one who'd tried to attack me. Poor fool. He hadn't known that I was holding a knife. Idiot. Had he really expected me to surrender without a fight?

"Please," she whispered. Her eyelids fluttered in terror, and her whole body was trembling. She was backing away, desperately prolonging it, but there was not much further back she could go. "Please, Miaka! Remember... I'm your mother!"

I looked up. I looked her straight in the eyes, screwing up my face as though intensifying my glare could somehow make it pierce her like a dagger. Her eyes were wide and empty, devoid of expression. How could I ever have looked into those eyes and fooled myself that I saw love there?

"You're not my mother! You stole me!" I cried. It felt so good to get it out at last; it was hard to stop myself laughing. "You lied to me all these years. Pretending you loved me. Pretending you cared about me, when you just wanted to use me. Well, I'm putting a stop to it now."

She stood frozen; her mouth had fallen open, but no words would come out. Not that anything she could say would make a difference now. I wasn't going to let myself be taken in by her lies any more. The time had come; I was going to claim my freedom. I'd waited so long for this moment, and I relished it. The knife was in my hand. I lunged forward –

No. This won't do. I've got to stop thinking about that. It's like Irie-sensei said; it's over now. And yet – I can't seem to get it out of my mind. That scene – her scream of pain as I struck her – the colour of her blood. I only have to close my eyes and it all comes right back, an overpowering suffusion that fills my whole world all at once. And when I open my eyes, the room keeps spinning in crazy circles around me, and I have to close them again or I think I'm going to be sick. Damn it, I just can't seem to escape!

I lay back down on the bed for a long while; I don't know whether I slept. At any rate, when I finally yawned and lifted myself up, I was feeling a little stronger, strong enough to stand, at least. But not easily. After a couple of hesitant steps, I just sat down again. At least the room wasn't spinning so much any more, just tilting slightly. I wasn't feeling quite so nauseous, either, and I felt I could just about try getting some food inside me. Irie-sensei had said I could have breakfast whenever I was ready, and at the time I'd violently rejected the idea. But now – I think I needed it.

The only thing was, I didn't know who else would be around, and I didn't know if I was ready to face anyone just yet. Would the nurses be hovering around the edges of the room, pointing and whispering, "There's that girl who almost killed her mother..." "I know, shocking, isn't it?" – or would they just smile and silently pity? I didn't want their pity. But then, I deserved nothing better. I'd done a terrible thing. I wished I could close my eyes and then wake up and find out that I'd dreamed all of this, but I knew it was no good. It was far too real to be a dream: I remembered exactly how the handle of the knife had felt, sitting snugly in my hand; I remembered the feeling of power and exhilaration as I raised it and prepared to strike. And yet, even though I knew this had happened, I couldn't understand it at all. How could I ever have felt that way, even for a moment? Oh, sure, I've been angry with her – there have been times when I've felt I've hated her – times when it seems like she's only out for herself, like she regards me as a nuisance getting in her way all the time – but I could never, ever want to kill her. She is my support when I need someone to hold me in place and stop me falling; I can't bear to think about what it would be like if I lost her. I just can't think about it...

I sat on the bed for a while and held my head in my hands, trying to work things out. First, I just had to accept that I really had done this. That wasn't going to change, no matter how much I protested to myself that it wasn't at all like me. And then – well, I just didn't know. It's not exactly the kind of thing you can get past by giving someone a hug and saying you love them. No, I would have to – I didn't know what I could do to put things right. I wasn't going to give up, though. I guess I must have a naturally optimistic temperament, because even in a situation like this there was still some part of me that was saying, it's not hopeless, there will be some way out.

And so, at last, I lifted myself up and showered and got dressed. There was a suitcase of my clothes in the room – my parents had packed it for me when the doctor had arranged for me to come to Hinamizawa, so I guess they weren't throwing me out on the streets just yet. I selected one of my less tattered pairs of jeans, and a black T-shirt with red flowers. It was as I was pushing the other clothes aside to get it out that a little envelope fell out from the folds of one of the towels.

I tore it open and read the letter inside.

Dearest Miaka,

I'm not sure when you will read this; I've been told that it may not be for a few days. I wish so badly that I could come to Hinamizawa so that I could be there for you when you wake up – but I'm afraid I will have to stay here in the hospital in Kyoto for a little while longer. Don't worry about me, though, I'm doing fine. Please let us know that you've woken up, and your father and I will be there to see you as soon as we can manage.

Irie-sensei has told us that he wants you to remain in Hinamizawa for some time, so I've packed a few books and things for you. We will visit you every weekend to make sure that you're doing all right. Let us know if there's anything else you'd like to have while you're there, and we will bring it. I hope you will enjoy your time in Hinamizawa – just think of it as a free holiday! I know it will be difficult and you might feel lonely, but it's also a chance for you to make some new friends. We will miss you, but the most important thing is that we know you're having a good time.

There followed a long series of scratches and crossings-out, and then:

I'm not really sure how to put this – but Miaka, I'm really sorry we didn't tell you before now. About you being adopted, I mean. We should have told you the truth; we just never managed to find the right time. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive us, and please don't think we love you any the less. You are our precious and beautiful daughter, and we couldn't possibly be any more proud of you.

Your loving mother,
Teramachi Mikoto

It was a long time before I had finished wiping away my tears. I couldn't believe it; she wrote as though nothing had happened! As though she wanted to forget it all – no, as though she wanted me to forget it all, to take all the burden of that horrible memory upon herself. And I don't think I've ever known a greater proof of how deeply she loved me. In that moment, I made a promise to myself that I would find some way to repay her. If there's ever something I can do that will prove how much I still love you, just let me know; I'll do it at once, no matter what it takes.

And, after all, I really don't care about knowing that I was adopted. It makes no difference at all. To be honest, I really should have guessed it for myself. My mother has silky black hair and amber eyes; my father has brown hair and brown eyes. I'm the only one in the family with red hair and blue eyes. But I'd come to accept that as just being one of those things that happens by chance sometimes – a kind of lucky charm, if you like. And now that I know the truth, I still feel like that, in a way. It's a sign that my parents chose to bring me up and take care of me, and I know not everyone can say that.

After making that promise, I opened my eyes again, and rooted around in the suitcase to see what books she'd packed. Ah – there was my copy of The Lord of the Rings, tattered and faded by many re-readings, but it had a feel and even a smell to it that meant no other copy was quite the same. That would most likely be all I would need, since I wasn't planning on spending all my time cooped up in the clinic, but I still looked to see what else was there. A few volumes of Detective Conan, including some I hadn't read before. I think Mother must have bought those specially, because I'm sure I've read all the volumes we have in the house. Well, that was thoughtful. A couple of novels of the sort Mother reads – not really my thing, I don't have enough patience to keep track of so many complicated relationships. Finally, inevitably, there were some of my school textbooks. Irie-sensei had arranged for me to transfer to the village school while I was here; I can't pretend I was looking forward to it, but it would be a way to meet people and make my stay a little less boring.

I sighed, arranged the textbooks in a neat pile again, and went off to breakfast.

"How are you feeling?" Irie asked me.

"A little better, thanks," I said. And it was true. Perhaps it was just the effect of having some food inside me, or perhaps it was having absorbed what was in my mother's letter, but I really did feel better about myself and about the world already. Okay, I certainly didn't feel good about what I'd done, but I was at least ready to try to put it behind me and start a new day.

"I'm very glad to hear it," he said. "So – have you decided how you're going to spend today?"

"I... hadn't really thought about it."

He looked at me thoughtfully. "Do you feel well enough to get outside?"

"Oh, certainly," I said at once. Ask me how I want to spend my time, and I would always much rather be outdoors if I can; the fresh air of a warm summer's day is nourishment to my spirit.

"So, how about a tour of the village?"

"Sure, that would be great!"

He smiled. "Well, I have a friend who would be happy to show you around. Would you like to meet him?"

I agreed, and Irie went away to call his friend, while I finished eating. About a quarter of an hour later, I had gotten myself presentable and was waiting in the lobby, when the door opened and a man came in. Irie greeted him and introduced him as my guide, Tomitake Jirou. He was close in age and height to the doctor, but a little bit stouter, and he had a camera swinging by his side, attached to a strap around his shoulder. His hair and eyes were brown, and he wore square-framed glasses.

I bowed to him and then said goodbye to Irie, and we set off. The sun was shining brightly, and almost as soon as we were outside, I could feel it warming me right through to my soul. It was the kind of lazy day when you can't think too deeply about things, you can only take them as they come. I'm not saying I had forgotten everything that had happened, but I certainly wasn't going to let it get me down on a day like this.

Tomitake proved to be an excellent guide. He did not actually live in Hinamizawa, but the village was his favourite haunt for photography, and he knew it inside-out. It was clear that Irie had told him why I was staying in the village, for he took care to point out all the places I would need to know – the school, the shrine, the shops and eating-places, and the bus stop where one could catch a bus to the neighbouring town, Okinomiya.

"So, what do you think?" Tomitake asked me after a while.

"It's lovely," I said. And it was. The village was beautiful, with a charming old-fashioned style of housing that was quite unlike any other village I had seen. The air was full of the scents of summer flowers rising from people's gardens, and the cicadas chirped away merrily, giving the place a kind of melody that made me feel my steps were almost dancing along.

We stopped to buy food at one of those tiny shops you only really find in villages. The owner was a cheerful old woman who greeted us both with a welcoming smile and asked if I was Tomitake's daughter. He laughed, and explained my situation in far more detail than I felt comfortable sharing with a stranger – but almost at once, I realised I didn't mind letting her know. Not just because in a place like this, everyone finds out everything soon enough anyway; but also because I somehow knew she was safe, and would accept me and not try to judge me.

That's more than I deserve...

I shook my head and blinked, and when I opened my eyes, the voice had gone away again.

"So, I hear you're keen on walking and climbing," Tomitake said to me after we had left the shop.

"You bet!"

"Well then, what do you say we make this lunch into a picnic and go up to the old dam site? It's a bit of a trek, but you get a splendid view."

"Sure, let's do that."

But there was one other call Tomitake wanted to make first. We had gone in a circle round the village, and the path towards the road up to the dam site would take us back past the shrine. This time, instead of going past, we turned in under the gate – a gorgeous stone gate, so streaked by the caresses of time that it looked like it must have stood there since before the village was built – and up the steps. These steps were flanked by a wall of little stones, and as soon as you crossed and reached the top, you were deep under the shadow of the trees that closed the area in on all sides except for a small opening where the gate was. This made the building, set deep back on a stone level under the trees, seem dark and imposing; but the row of lanterns that hung from the top of its wooden frame were friendly lights that invited you in and promised you shelter from the shadows outside. A wooden gate stood at the front, and the actual entrance was some way behind this – a simple gate with wooden doors flanking it on either side, blocking out so much light that the gate was almost a black abyss into which you could stare for ever and try to fool yourself that you were making out the shapes of things or creatures in a spaceless void somewhere inside. And if I had to try to guess what that symbolised, I would say that it meant that by crossing the threshold, you were making a leap of faith and giving yourself into the hands of the gods, as you could only do if you knew that your soul was pure. I... well, I don't really know if mine was, but Tomitake was going inside, so I had to go with him.

The main room, you saw as soon as you were inside, was not really as dark as it had seemed from the outside. There was a fire blazing in a deep cavity under the altar, filling the room with a thick smell of incense; its light was just enough that you could make out, through a dim haze, images on the walls, gold dragons and red demons that seemed to be shimmering, almost breathing, as though your very presence was bringing them to life, waking them up so they could talk to you about their history and their dreams. A woman was kneeling in front of the altar, and she looked round as we entered. She grunted and started to lift herself up; Tomitake hurried over to support her. She took his hand, and managed to get herself standing, then bowed to tell him he could let go. It wasn't hard to see why she needed his help; she had a heavy bulge that meant, I would guess, she was only about a month away from the birth. Nevertheless, there was something about her that gave her an air of elegance in spite of her awkwardness; perhaps it was the way she smiled as though nothing was too much trouble for her. She was tall, and had straight blue hair that floated down to the small of her back, and was dressed in a turquoise priestly robe.

"Thank you, Tomitake-san," she said. "I am happy to see you again. It's been a long time. Who is your friend?"

"Good to see you too," said Tomitake. "This is Teramachi Miaka, a patient who's staying with Irie-sensei at the clinic. Miaka-san, this is our village priestess, Furude Rika-sama."

"Pleased to meet you," I said, making a polite bow.

"I am also pleased. I've been waiting to meet you."

"I... huh?"

"I thought you would find your way here," she said with a smile. "You see, I'd heard that a little cat was astray somewhere in the village, so I hung out a lantern to let her know where to come. I think that someone who cares about her will be glad to know she is being looked after, don't you?"

I managed a faint smile. "Yeah. I'm sure," I said. "And thank you. That's really kind. You know... this village certainly seems like a very friendly place, so far."

"It is. This is something you cannot truly understand unless you have fought with us and suffered together as we have. The Hinamizawa Syndrome causes paranoia that makes you distrust and turn on your closest friends. Before we could fight against it, we had to learn to trust in our bonds of friendship no matter what, and in the end we found that our struggle had made our bonds stronger."

"Then Irie-sensei told you..."

"Yes, I know what you are suffering, Miaka-san. Your struggles are part of the same battle we fought twenty years ago, our constant battle against fate. Do you know the story of Pandora's box?"

"Yes."

"The Hinamizawa Syndrome is like the contents of that box. If it gets loose, this world will sink again into despair and tragedy. After all we have been through, I do not want that to happen. I am too old and tired to fight again... and besides, I feel I have earned some rest." She closed her eyes for a moment and breathed deeply. Her face was calm and serene, almost like a statue of some ancient deity. "We are depending on your courage, Miaka-san. Whatever happens, you must not open the box."

"I'll do my best to be strong, Furude-sama. I promise."

"You can call me Rika. And thank you. I believe in your courage." She bowed.

"I... thank you, Rika-san," I said. Damn it, I mustn't start crying now!

"It's not a trouble," she said with a slight shake of her head. "You have Irie-sensei's phone number, don't you?"

"Yes."

"The most important thing is not to cut yourself off from the people who are holding out their hands to you. Can you give me some paper, Tomitake-san?"

"Sure." He took a notebook out of his pocket and tore off one sheet.

"Let's see, then." She started to write. "I'll give you my number, and this is my friend Satoko's, and this is the Sonozakis'. We will be your support group. If you ever find yourself needing a person to talk to, we will all be here for you."

"Thank you," I said, bowing again. "I... that's really good of you."

"It's not a trouble," she said again. "You'll get to meet the others soon enough. Do you know how long you will be staying in Hinamizawa?"

"Irie-sensei wants me to stay here for a month."

Her eyes seemed to light up at that. "That's very good. You will be here for the Watanagashi festival in two weeks' time, then. It is our village's largest annual festival, and we are very proud of it."

"Really? That sounds lovely. I'll look forward to it."

"And I will look forward to seeing you there."

We smiled again and exchanged words of parting, and then it was time for Tomitake and I to be on our way, as the morning was wearing on and it would soon be time for us to have our lunch.

And so we left the shrine precinct and began the trek up the hills. The country around Hinamizawa was steep and thickly wooded, just the sort of place I loved to explore, and already I began thinking up plans for one day coming here on holiday and bringing some of my friends after my cure was complete. There would be so much more I'd be able to do – for Irie had impressed on me that I should not wander off too far by myself at any time. So I was very glad for now to have a guide, as the road up to the dam site was a long one, and I guessed that this would come under the heading of "too far". I tired out sooner than I expected – perhaps a result of having spent the last week or so in a coma – but at last we emerged from the woods, and the path continued up to a little plateau; I could see the remains of some long-abandoned construction work, and I guessed that this must be our destination.

It was. We stopped and spread out our picnic, and it seemed we both had a good appetite. We chatted a little; Tomitake asked me a few meaningless questions about school and my parents' jobs, but mostly I let him do the talking. I kept him going with questions about his photography, and, like many people with a keen hobby, once he got started on that subject he could prattle away for hours. That suited me just fine – I can't pretend I was listening with equal enthusiasm, but I hadn't known him long enough to be comfortable making myself the main subject of conversation. He told me all about the many places he visited in quest of rare birds and exotic landscapes, but always emphasised that he had never found anywhere quite like Hinamizawa.

"It really is beautiful," I said – for the plateau we were on gave us a wide view over the whole village, which I now saw was in a narrow valley below us. The houses, being built of natural materials, blended harmoniously with the colours of the fields and forests, and there were almost no signs of the modern tendency to reduce everything to bands and patches of grey. "And so peaceful," I added. I could see a few people moving about – at this distance, little more than dots – but overall the place looked serene and unchanging.

"It is peaceful," Tomitake agreed.

"Really?" I chuckled. "No conflicts or dark secrets lurking under the surface, then?"

"Oh, we have a few, but they belong to a time long ago now."

"Then tell me about them!"

He laughed. "That would be what interests you, wouldn't it? Well, do you know why this place is called the dam site?"

"I'll take a wild guess. There's a dam here?"

"There was going to be. They even got as far as starting the construction – well, you can see it just there. It would have diverted the river and flooded the whole village."

"I bet the villagers weren't best pleased about that."

"You can say that again. There's a reason that period is referred to as the Dam War."

"An actual war?"

"Eh, no, not really," he said, making a dismissive hand gesture and smiling. "But it was a time of intense conflict and hot tempers. There was even a murder – the manager supervising the construction work was killed – and it did look as though a real war might break out at any moment. Fortunately, the villagers managed to get through a petition for the dam project to be cancelled."

"I'm so glad," I said with a deep sigh. "Such a beautiful village – it would be a real shame to see it ruined."

"Yes, although you wouldn't be here to see it at all if the dam project had gone through," said Tomitake. "The Irie Clinic wouldn't exist, and we probably wouldn't have a cure for Hinamizawa Syndrome. And that almost led to another conflict, because there was a government faction who were trying to use the Syndrome as a political weapon against an opposing faction. Fortunately, that all came to nothing in the end, as well."

"Wow," I said. "The village certainly has a more interesting history than I'd expected."

Tomitake nodded. "Yes, but it's all in the past now, thank goodness," he said. "Since then, we've had twenty years of peace."

"Thank goodness," I said. "I hope it lasts for a very long time."

"Yes, that would be nice," he said. And he lay back and rested with his back against a boulder, and for a while we just sat in silence and watched the sunlight shimmering over the village and the trees whispering in the wind. It really was a perfect day.