A/N: POV flip flop once again. We're used to this, right?

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.

A Memory of Rain

Part VII

She had been wrong. The roof of the forest did not keep out the rain.

Shiori slowed down on what she hoped was still the path, and tried to catch her breath. She had been running for what felt, in the great tradition of nightmares, like hours when it couldn't have been more than a few minutes. Already tired, too tired for a cup of tea and half a cookie to even touch, she couldn't do any better than that. She didn't think the policeman, Mochizuki, had followed her in right away, but she had no doubts that he would be following her very soon. She had trespassed into the museum, and if she read the sign she had passed on the way into the forest she was trespassing now, as well. Was everything in this village forbidden?

Her breathing slowly returned to normal and Shiori straightened, taking stock of her surroundings. She had more to worry about than fresh-faced cops and breaking and entering charges, which was in itself a thought she had never hoped to have. She was in the forest, a forest she was unfamiliar with, which had somehow been beckoning to her since she had laid eyes on it, and she was alone, with no idea of where she was, where she should be going, if she should be going anywhere, or really any idea of what she had gotten herself into. It was cold, the rain pelting down like it had a grudge against the earth and everything that walked on it, and it was already starting to get dark.

Shiori shivered a little, and went to the nearest tree to lean her back against it. She needed to stop and think. Well, what she needed was a day of sleep, warmth, some food and at least a few hours alone inside her own skull, but she doubted that she would be getting any of that.

Whatever it was that had been pulling her into the forest had stopped, and not because she was finally under the trees. It had stopped before that. As she had walked outside like she was going to the policeman's patrol car she had been able to feel the difference. Whatever it had been that had nearly pulled her under the trees before she went into the museum ceased by the time she came out again. It seemed a little ironic that after the 'pull' or whatever it was had stopped, she had sprinted directly into the forest. Compulsion or not, she still felt there were answers hiding in here somewhere, and she had a cop to lose. A cop who was all too eager to get her out of town quickly and leave no record she had ever been there.

Shiori wasn't stupid. She was exhausted and confused, but not stupid, and there was something terribly wrong about the two people she had met since arriving in Azakawa.

She knew how she must look. And not just 'how she must look' in the sense of some strange out-of-towner caught in the act of fleeing the scene of a (minor) crime. She knew how she must look physically. If it was anywhere near to how she felt, then she had to look absolutely insane, possibly even dangerous. It would be perfectly understandable for someone, especially a young girl on her own to be wary of her, for her call the police even if Shiori hadn't broken into her place of work. Had the tables been turned then Shiori was sure that was how she would have handled the situation.

But the girl, Sakuma, hadn't be behaving quite right even for that. She hadn't looked nervous at Shiori's appearance but surprised, and worried. The closest she came to a proper response was to look alarmed, but even that had seemed off.

The girl recognized her, Shiori was certain of it. When she had called out 'Onee-chan' it hadn't been because she thought Shiori was her sister from behind. It was because she recognized Shiori, because she and Shiori had once known each other, and well enough to use the familiar terms of 'Onee-chan.' Had Shiori once called her 'Sakuma-chan' or even 'Miyako-chan'? What had that girl once been to her? How long had they known each other before Shiori's memories were taken? Was it possible that they had known each other even before the summer? Shiori thought of the wide blankness that was the very beginning of her life. Had Sakuma been a part of her childhood?

Were they really… sisters?

Shiori began to tremble so violently that even the tree couldn't hold her up. She sank to the damp ground, sitting into a relatively soft drift of pine needles.

Just how much of her life was missing? How many people had she lost, did she no longer recognize, but who could recognize her? What the hell was going on?

A wave of nausea washed over her, and she had to clamp her jaws hard to keep down her tea.

When she no longer thought she was going to be sick, Shiori allowed herself the dubious comfort of crying, tears running silently down her cheeks. She wasn't normally one for crying. It never did any good and only left one open to teasing, though that had never happened to her. At least, she didn't think it had. She couldn't remember. It was all too much, what was going on. She didn't understand any of it, and from the looks of things she was going to have to solve all of the riddles hanging around her on her own. Her experience with the very first people she had met in this village proved that, and she thought it best to extend that lesson of caution to anyone she might meet. Trust no one.

Sakuma Miyako, whoever she was, had recognized her. She had known that Shiori's memories were gone, that Shiori would not recognize her, and had done her very best to make it seem as though they had just met. She had drawn Shiori back inside where she could keep tabs on her, and distracted her until backup could arrive. She was quick on her feet, and glib enough to steer alert - if exhausted - people to do what she wanted.

Sakuma knew Shiori, and Shiori suspected she might be the person responsible for taking her memories.

She had seen the bracelet on the girl's left wrist, the one that flashed and shone with pale blue light, made from the same 'night glowstone' as the pendant she had taken and slipped into her pocket. Was Sakuma the one who had made it? She said she was a temporary fill in for the museum, but who would trust a middle school kid with that kind of responsibility? And the way she had called in that cop, the way she had been able to steer him to do what she wanted with Shiori… there was more to Sakuma than appeared, more than a pretty smile and a red and green school uniform.

The cop had known her as well. That had been made painfully obvious by the few snatches of his and Sakuma's conversation that Shiori had managed to overhear. He knew as much about her as Sakuma, and was willing to do what it took to ensure that she didn't stick around to uncover any more clues. He hadn't even wanted a certain someone else to know that Shiori had come back.

'The manager,' Sakuma had said. The manager of the museum? The way she talked about him made him sound like the leader of the other two, or at least one whom they deferred decisions to. Apprehension warred with curiosity when Shiori considered this mystery person. How did a museum manager fit into an already unlikely cast of characters? Who was 'Suga'?

The rain, already coming down hard, redoubled its efforts. The thick cover of trees did much to lessen it, but in this deluge they might as well have not been there at all. Shiori unfolded her umbrella, covering herself as much as possible.

Her head hurt, and she didn't think it was all due to the day she had been having. It felt like something was pressing in on her from the outside, trying to get in, under her skin, into her mind. The whispering voices had quieted somewhat inside the museum, but out here in the rain, they were all much closer. Now she didn't even have the walls of her apartment to protect her, insufficient barrier they had seemed at the time. Now she had only her umbrella to keep her safe, its bright yellow canvas a pathetic defense against the encroaching darkness. The voices slipped beneath it, touching her ears with their damp breath.

She had seen things in this forest, in her mad flight to get as far from the museum and the pursuing police officer as she could. Things that she would have shrugged off before summer, thought a trick of the light or her own imagination. In her current state, anything she saw was subject to doubt - sleep deprivation led to hallucinations eventually, but she was more inclined to believe the evidence of her eyes. She was more willing to believe that the half-there, half-not forms she had seen were real, were following her, and that there was a very good reason to be terrified of them.

Shiori hugged her knees, clutching her yellow umbrella, and sniffled quietly in the downpour. Tears might not help, but they certainly couldn't make things any worse. She wanted, more than anything, to go home, but not the one that was waiting for her. Not the one with classes and a sink full of dishes and a roommate who was too patient for her own good. She wanted to go back to her real home, the one she thought of whenever she thought of comfort, with her old familiar furniture, her worn out toys, her old books and fading posters. She wanted to go back to that place, when everything had made sense and the worst she could ever expect was a scolding from her parents for getting into another fight.

She wanted her parents back.

Eventually she ran out of tears, and the sky had not run out of rain. She was still alone in the forest, with no idea where she was meant to go, a mystery to solve, a policeman tracking her down and a vague feeling that somewhere, amongst the trees, the solution to it all was waiting for her.

Shiori wiped away the useless tears and pushed shakily to her feet. She may be lost and alone, but she wasn't completely helpless. She had somehow ended up in an impossible scenario in which things like linear thinking and logic did not apply. Fine. If that was how things worked now, she could play by those rules. It was time to be proactive.

Digging deep into a pocket, Shiori brought out two objects. One was the pendant and chain she had stolen from the museum, its cold light holding back the night. Shiori stared at it a moment, an odd sense of vertigo and nostalgia washing over her. She blinked, and looked over at the second object, the one she had meant to take out. The white fragment.

She might not have any idea what it was or why she had it, but whenever she held it, one voice cut through all the rest. It was the one voice that did not sound as though it wanted to eat her. In this situation, Shiori was willing to take whatever guidance she could get, even a child's disembodied voice.

Putting the pendant and chain around her neck - the light could help her to see in the darkness - Shiori held the milky fragment in the palm of her hand. Then she made a fist and concentrated on the one voice she wanted to hear.

It was frightening just how quickly that voice came to her once she began to listen for it.

It was clearer than ever, spun out of the pattering rain, surrounding her on all sides. If there had been any doubt that the voice belonged to a child, she had none now. Light and lilting, impossible to tell if it was male or female, there was a brightness and innocence in it that contrasted so sharply with all the voices that surrounded it, it almost seemed incongruous. But there was urgency as it spoke to her. It wanted her to move, to be on her feet and to follow it, now.

With the white piece in one hand and her yellow shield in the other, the glowing blue amulet about her throat, Shiori began walking deeper into the trees, following the voice of the child.

It was simpler to follow the child's guiding voice than she thought it would be. It surrounded her on all sides with the falling rain, but only one direction felt right when she faced it. Whenever she deviated even a little she was overwhelmed with a sense of wrong, and the child's voice would warble, a warning that she was straying.

As she progressed the child's voice became stronger, clearer, until she could just about make out individual words. Unfortunately, as the child's voice became clearer, so did others. Most notably, the deep, dark, female voice that cloyed inside her mind, making all it touched feel tainted. It was a voice that made her feel small, hunted, helpless, as though the speaker were right beside her, lips brushing against her ear as she murmured something about a promise.

With that voice pursuing her and the shadows crowding closer with every passing moment, Shiori hurried on, feet catching in the undergrowth as her vision failed, yellow umbrella striking branches as the path grew more tangled. She didn't really care where it was the child was leading her, so long as it was away from that more sinister whisper.

She did not see the twisted, translucent shape, about the size of a six year old child, until she was practically on top of it. Not until it turned its terrible eyes on her and reached.

Shiori screamed, her voice swallowed in the rain with all the others, her bright yellow shield fluttering uselessly to the damp earth.

The rain was still falling, so hard and heavy now that it was practically a solid sheet of water beating against Sakuma's window.

The light was fading fast, but she could make out Azakawa Forest, and the hulking shape of the mountain still cut a clear shape out of the sky. She could see it all, and though she might not be able to see what was going on inside the forest, she could feel enough to know that the situation was only getting worse as time went on. In fact she probably had a more complete idea of what was happening than any of the people who were directly involved. It was infuriating.

From where she sat beside her bedroom window, safe in her own home behind walls of brick and mortar and with the glowstone bracelet firmly in place, Sakuma could still feel the evil stirring in the forest. She felt the all too familiar presence of the Kotori Obake, surrounded by her bevy of stolen children. She could sense the dead mother's agitation and excitement, could feel her searching, searching, searching for the cute, cute child whose promise she still held, the child that had escaped once and twice before, but not this time, no, never again…

Sakuma could feel as the old spirit reached out for her, reached out to take her mind and use her body as she had done once before, and as she was repelled by the glowing ring of blessed stones at her wrist.

Sakuma held the bracelet close, as though doing so would protect her more. As though it could change what she sensed in the forest, while she was stuck, safe, in her home.

When Sakuma concentrated, straining her awareness to its farthest limit, she could sense the night glowstone.
She could, very dimly, tell where it had been placed all around the forest. She could feel as those charms set against the evil inside strained under the building pressure, as the last of their power guttered, flared and went out. She could sense as the manager went from one to the next and either rejuvenated them or placed out replacements by the slow relighting of the forest's perimeter. Even now new lights were becoming known to her. It seemed so little, but they would help to keep what was stirring in the forest contained there.

All so useless! Sakuma scowled out her window furiously. It didn't matter if the spirits were all trapped in the forest, they weren't trying to leave! They had what they wanted right within easy reach, and it was only a matter of time before they found Shiori. Sakuma could sense the spirits much more clearly than the glowstones, and it was like a dark stain spreading on white linen. It wouldn't be long before they found their prey, and the prey didn't even know that there was a predator to avoid.

Remembering how strung out and on the edge of collapse Shiori had looked, and trying to imagine her in the forest now with all those spirits searching for her… Sakuma was amazed she hadn't been caught already.

Officer Mochizuki was out there too, but really, how much help was he going to be? He was a nice guy and all, but… he was a cop. He was hardly cut out to deal with what was in the forest, aware of them or not. It would be down to Suga to rescue her… and he had no idea that anything was wrong.

Three people in the forest, all separated from each other. One was avoiding being found, one was searching blind and one was completely oblivious to the other two. The last thing that mix needed was a fourth person to get into trouble…

Sakuma was on her feet and searching for her shoes, the new ones that didn't pinch her feet, before she could think of any really good reasons why she should stay home. 'Really good reasons' meaning any reasons that would actually stop her. It was undoubtedly a very, very bad plan to go out there… but she couldn't just sit here, aware of what was going on and unable to change any of it. She was probably the best equipped person out of the four, since she was at least aware of the other three and had her heightened senses, and she still had her bracelet. She would trust in those twelve little stones and her own skills to guide and protect her. She would go out and help Onee-chan!

Racing time, Sakuma gathered up everything she needed to brave the weather and wandering dead.

A/N2: Ah, the exciting possibilities of memory loss! And as much as I love writing Mochizuki, Sakuma's background and abilities are really interesting to me. I can see writing a few standalone adventures for her after everything is all settled down.

Thanks for reading, and until next week!

(Happy Halloween, everybody!)