... And this is the last of the major interactions with Higurashi: Broken Chains arc. The two will still be linked, but I used this chapter to clean up the loose ends. Song of the Chapter - End of the World by Nagone Mako (original by Kasane Teto) - watch?v=bj_YveDurf4. I do not own this song, by the way.


Henry jumped, looking around. The lilac-haired girl with horns stood behind him.

"What do you want, Oyashiro-sama?" snapped Henry quietly.

"Hauuu~," quailed the 'deity', fiddling with her fingers. "There's no need to be like that!"

"Sorry, but … what are you doing here?"

"Rika sent me to find you. There's still something she needs you to see."

"What do you mean?"

"The flowers of fate bloom and die. But yours has not yet fully withered."

"What do you mean, Oyashiro-sama? Everybody's dead now."

"Just call me Hanyuu. And not everyone."

"What?"

The room dissolved, reconstructing a boring terraced street of three-storey houses. Henry recognised the chipped red paint on the wall at the front of what could charitably be called a garden and the bay window of the corner house.

"This is … my house?"

"Yes."

"But who …?"

His question was answered by the arrival of a taxi cab pulling into the narrow street. It parked at the side of the road, and a tall, slim person climbed out of the back, and handed a couple of banknotes in to the driver.

"The one on the corner?" Henry heard them ask, before the driver cab zoomed off.

"Fine; don't help me," they muttered. "Baka."

They walked closer to Henry and Hanyuu. Henry could tell it was a teenage girl, with long green hair and piercing green eyes. She wore a white sleeveless turtleneck and grey skirt. Her name was Sonozaki Shion. And clutched to her chest was a large porcelain urn. Henry noticed the cicada pattern.

"Shion!" cried Henry, amazed to see that she was alive, as she began to walk solemnly towards them. She gave no indication of having heard him. In fact, she walked right through him. It was a very weird sensation; he felt nothing, but could see her walk through him.

"You're not a part of this world anymore, remember?" reminded Hanyuu. "You're little more than a ghost now."

Shion rang the doorbell. A smallish boy with short blond hair answered the door excitedly. He looked the visitor up and down and the excited look vanished slightly.

"Who are you?" he asked bluntly.

"Is Parkinson Joy-san there?" asked Shion politely in her best English, with a strained attempt at a smile.

"William, don't be so rude," chided a woman who came into the lobby at that moment. She was quite short; a couple of inches shorter than Shion, with a worn, motherly sort of face. "Hello, can I help you?" she said, ushering William back inside.

Shion bowed respectfully. "I am sorry for arriving so unexpectedly, Parkinson-san. My name is Sonozaki Shion. May I come in? We need to talk."

"Sure; come in, Miss Sonozaki." Joy Parkinson stood back, allowing Shion to cross the threshold of the house.

"Please," replied Shion, walking in and habitually pulling off her trainers. "Call me Shion. I wanted to talk to you … about Parkinson Henry-kun."

Henry, who had walked through the now-closed door, noticed that Shion had changed. Her swagger was gone, as was her cocky tone. Proud Shion; she walked with her head bowed and her eyes down. A lot of what made her Shion was gone. What was left seemed stunted and deadened.

What have I done? He thought to himself.

"Mum, why's she got green hair?" asked William, as Shion was led into the adjoining living/dining room.

"William, stop being rude," hissed Joy.

"It's okay," said Shion with a feeble attempt at a laugh. "Mother's bloodline had a genetic mutation that gave her green pigments. We like to joke that it's oni blood."

"Oni … blood?" asked a confused Joy, not getting the cultural reference.

"Never mind."

They sat at the large dining table. Shion felt uncomfortable; chairs reminded her too much of school, and she would rather kneel on the floor as was the custom back home. But it would be rude to decline. Shion perched on the chair, setting the small urn on the tabletop. "Parkinson-san, I had to come. I'm one of Henry-kun's friends from Hinamizawa."

"We haven't heard from him yet, you know. I guess the letters are lost in the post or something."

"Yes, international post is not very fast. But I am afraid that Henry-kun will not be saying much more to you."

"What do you mean, Shion?" asked Henry's mother, confused and indignant.

Shion gulped. This was the bit she was most afraid of doing. "I am so sorry, Parkinson-san, but something terrible has happened in Hinamizawa. Henry-kun … he didn't make it."

She told them everything. The curse, the festival, the murders, Henry's battle with himself, and his final self-hanging.

"You'd think she would have mentioned the disaster," mused Henry.

"She doesn't know of that yet," explained Hanyuu. "It started after she got on the plane to England."

Henry's mother seemed at a loss for words. "Henry's … dead …?" she asked in a small voice. Henry had never seen her brought so low by anything before.

Shion laid a comforting hand on the older woman's shoulder. "Henry may be gone, and he may have been a murderer, and he may have slaughtered innocent people, but his last act was to fight back against his madness. To save us all. He paid his own life to save us, and for that I am truly grateful." Shion picked up the urn and offered to Joy. "In Japan, we bury some of the deceased's ashes at the local shrine, and the rest is given to the family and friends for family shrines. Well, I don't know if you guys have family shrines, but we felt you deserved these more than we do anyway. He was your son, after all."

"So, he went mad, did he?" asked Joy, taking the urn gratefully.

"Something evil awoke in him. There was nothing we could have done."

"He never did like to lose much."

Hanyuu tapped Henry on the shoulder. "Let's fast-forward a little."

They were suddenly in an airport in Japan. There was a heated argument going on nearby. It was Shion, arguing with the customs officer.

"What do you mean, quarantined?!"

"Ma'am, Hinamizawa is officially off-limits. Military order. No-one is allowed in or out of that village."

"Why not? I am one of the Sonozaki family!"

"I understand, Sonozaki-san, but no-one means no-one. There has been some kind of toxic gas eruption."

"Toxic … gas?" asked Shion, faltering, incomprehension all over her face.

"There have been no confirmed survivors, so that means it is highly lethal."

"I … I see. Thank you, oji-sama." Shion strode off; aware she couldn't leave the airport, she made for a nearby café. Henry couldn't see what she was doing, but she went into the kitchens. Even more curiously, she left seconds later, and Henry caught the flash of something metal. Worried, he ran after her, leaving Hanyuu behind. She ran into a public toilet, head bowed. But she didn't take a cubicle.

Instead, Shion stood in front of one of the tall mirrors, leaning on the porcelain sink for support. She was shaking, and the light had faded from her face, so that if she looked ill before, she looked positively deathly now. Something suddenly pulled Henry into the mirror that Shion was staring dully at.

The mirror was dark on the inside, as though an infinitely large black room. Bright lights like windows punctuated the darkness, as though windows to the bathroom mirrors.

"Inside the mirror is the only way you can communicate with her now. She can't hear me, though; only you."

Henry stared at Hanyuu. "Why are you doing all this for me?"

"You … deserve closure. I'll explain in a moment."

Shion started to cry; great, fat tears rolling from her eyes as she finally released her dammed-up emotion. Henry, startled by the sudden display, leaned on the 'window' frame as though a lifeline. Shion was such a tough person; it broke his heart to see her reduced to a lonely, snivelling wreck in an airport toilet.

"Why did it have to come to this?" she moaned in between sobs. "First Satoshi, then Henry, then my friends and family, now my home has been taken away from me? How much more do want from me?"

"Shion!" cried Henry. "Hang in there!"

Henry?" she gasped, looking up at him with her bedraggled, defeated face. No, that was wrong; she had heard his voice, but she could only see the broken ace in the mirror.

"Shion, you are still alive! Don't throw that away!"

"Henry … you words reach from beyond the grave … but how?"

"Just keep on living, Shion! Please! Don't die on me!" Henry was aware of his own tears falling, as though he was slowly becoming Shion's reflection.

"But what for?" she muttered with a rueful chuckle. "You gave your life to save ours, Henry. Look what it all came to; me, alone in an airport bathroom. No friends. No home. No hope. No future."

"Shion, please!" begged Henry. For a second, he could have sworn she actually saw him in the mirror.

"I'm sorry, Hen-chan. But I've failed you." Shion pulled something from the waistline of her skirt. It was a sharp kitchen knife. She must have stolen it earlier.

"Shion, no!"

Shion stabbed herself in the gut, screeching like a banshee in pain as crimson life-blood splattered onto the tiled floor. Soon, though she began to laugh weakly, panting.

"I know now, Henry. What you must have endured, watching your own hands murder."

"Stop it, Shion! Don't do it!"

"My … my throat …"

"What?!"

"My throat … it itches …"

"SHION!"

Too late. Shion frantically started scraping at her pale throat like her life depended on it.

"I'm so sorry, Henry," she whispered. "Maybe … we'll see each other again someday?"

Henry could only watch in horror as her fingers began to turn red; shredded skin clogging manicured nails. A gaping, ragged hole, where she had torn her windpipe.

Shion collapsed, fainting from pain or blood or oxygen loss, dark blood pooling like a crimson halo. At the same time, a girl slowly dissolved into view next to him and Hanyuu; the (now not mutilated) Sonozaki Shion.

Henry grabbed her tight and cried into her shoulder. He knew he should be happy to see her again, but he also knew that she was now dead. The girl felt solid, but he wasn't even sure about the rules of life or death anymore. "Why .. why did you do it, Shion?"

"Henry?" she gasped. "Wow, you look … different."

"I guess," he said, letting her go as Hanyuu moved forward to join them.

"I feel so cold …" mumbled Shion. "Is this what death is like?"

"So it would seem."

"Much as it pleases me to see you happy," interrupted Hanyuu, "it's time to go. Shion needs to go to the new fate."

"New … fate?" Henry asked. "What does that mean?"

"Hinamizawa is a pocket of temporal flux. The timeline is … odd; it resets every time Rika dies. And Shion needs to be there."

"And what of me? You expect me to go back to that pitiful false afterlife?" growled Henry. "That isn't my place! I need to be with you guys in Hinamizawa … in a world where I'm not hated and feared …"

"But Henry, have you not found something to fight for back there?" said Hanyuu.

"What do you mean? There is nothing for me there!"

"What about that girl?"

Henry was struck dumb. He'd almost forgotten about Haku in the whole Shion episode.

"I'm sorry, Parkinson-san. It is where you belong. I cannot decide on this matter."

Shion stared at the short deity. "Will Henry be in this new world?"

"I cannot say. The flowers of fate are fickle and unpredictable. He may, he may not."

"But will I remember him?"

"It is highly unlikely that you will truly remember this life. You will feel as though you had never met Henry Parkinson. Do remember that Parkinson-san was an anomaly to begin with; it is very rare that any others than the regular cast are featured in this cycle."

"So …" said Shion turning back to Henry. "I guess … this is goodbye."

"Don't be like that, Shion. I might be in this new fate, too."

Shion laughed through her tears. "You heard whatsername …"

"Hanyuu," corrected the deity. "Though I'm Oyashiro to you."

"You heard Oyashiro-sama. The odds are low. And either way, I will never have known you."

"Then I shall remember you for both of us, Shion. I … I don't want to lose you again. Not like this."

"Don't worry yourself. Besides, from what I heard, you've got someone else now."

"It's not what it sounds like."

"Relax. I'm happy for you. If you spend your whole life looking back, you'll only miss what is in front of you. I don't know who this girl is, or how you know her, but please do me a favour. Love her for me … for the love we couldn't share." Shion pecked Henry on the cheek, recoiling almost instantly at the alien feel of his silicone skin and cold artificial flesh.

"So long, Henry."

Henry bowed. "So long, Shion. I guess it was fun knowing you. While it lasted."

"Maybe we might meet again?"

"Maybe," said Henry with a sad nod. Hanyuu drew a small lump of iridescent amber crystal from the folds of her kimono.

"It is time to go," said Hanyuu. "Henry, I'm sorry. It was my interventions that caused you to become a monster. You might have felt me try … but I was too weak."

"Take care of the gang, Oyashiro-sama."

Hanyuu and Shion suddenly turned to fine dust; the golden pollen of fate's fragile flowers.

Gone forever.

"No!" gasped Henry, opening his eyes. He was still in Haku's bedroom. She was fast asleep, looking so fragile in her slumber. Like the merest touch would shatter her into pieces.

Henry had never felt lower. Not when he had woken from death, not when he realised that he was merely some company's robot plaything, not even when he realised that Hinamizawa was dead. The one person he had most wanted to save, and she had only gone and got herself killed!

But it was no good whining about it all. He had a second chance, after all. He had better use it well.

He looked again at the slumbering Voyakiloid. She had it hard, he decided. She wasn't wanted by the others. She was lonely and miserable. And Shion had told him to look after the albino for her.

I'll look after you, Yowane Haku. I'll look after you like I couldn't look after my old friends.

Haku woke up late, groaning as the pain-sim filled her head with fake hangover. What had she done last night? She remembered feeling … happy. Euphoric, even. The happiest she had felt for many years, certainly. But … why? What was there in her cold void of a life to make her feel so?

Then she remembered the newbie. Henry … that was his name, wasn't it? She remembered his kind words the previous day, how accepting he'd been of her. No-one was like that. Not even Dell. Did he actually … like her? Haku blushed slightly. That was … nice of him. But he knew that she was a drunkard; she remembered him carrying her from the bar in an alcoholic daze. Him putting her in bed. Her trying to make him … What was she thinking? How drunk was she?

But he had declined her 'offer'. He had actually refused. That also surprised her. Even Len, for all his innocence, wouldn't hesitate to screw someone senseless if he could get away with it. So why was this newbie so different?

She looked around the room, getting up. Her 'vomit'-stained clothes from last night were gone, a clean black silk kimono lay folded on the beanbag nest that filled the floor and had clearly been slept in. There was a note folded up on top of that:

Haku,

Gone to grab some breakfast. Kimono was the only clean thing in your wardrobe. I put the dirty stuff in the wash for you. You need to remember to do it yourself in future. Don't sleep in too late; I wanted to do some more work on our song today.

Henry

Haku blinked. Was she really that sloppy? She decided that it would be a good time to go downstairs; it was nearly eleven o' clock, and she needed some kind of nourishment if she was going to stay awake.

Henry was still in the cafeteria, sipping his tea, when Haku wandered in, hesitant as a small furry animal of some sort. It was surprising still how different she was drunk to when she was sober.

And she looked, for want of a better word, stunning. The black silk shone in the fluorescent glow of the arc tubes above, indigo flowers and vines seemingly glowing as though lit from inside the material. The whole thing was a work of art. Goodness knew where she got such a garment from.

"M-m-morning," stammered Haku, bowing low.

"Please cease with the formality, Haku," said Henry with a laugh. "It makes me feel uneasy. We're friends, not estranged relatives or something."

Haku blushed, but she smiled weakly. Henry was secretly pleased to see that. It seemed all she needed was to have a friend to support her. But Henry felt good for it, too. He'd never been able to help anyone much before. To see his efforts pay off was enough to light something in his cold, cynical heart.

I guess we're good for each other.