A/N: Aaaah, I'm so sorry this is late, everyone! I totally forgot about it on Wednesday (because I'm brain fried and a general moron), remembered on Thursday but couldn't get it posted because it was Thanksgiving! TT^TT

Here it is, though. I'm setting myself alarms for next Wednesday so I don't forget again. Sorry!

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 XI

Kanzaki-san looked so peaceful; her eyes closed and lashes resting against her cheek, brow smooth. It was the most peaceful Mochizuki had seen her since her return to Azakawa, and he rather suspected it was the most peaceful she had been since she had been sent home. Perhaps since before even then. Thinking back to the time when they had first met at the defunct bus stop outside the train station, he recalled thinking that she had looked stressed. Even then she had seemed preoccupied, a little on edge. How long had it been since she had enjoyed a restful night's sleep, Mochizuki wondered? If anyone deserved to have one… she was one of three he could think of who needed it more than anyone else on the planet.

Except that this wasn't just a peaceful slumber, Mochizuki reminded himself.

Sitting in his small nest of gathered branches, the young officer watched over Kanzaki as she 'slept' beside him.

No, it wasn't really sleep. He didn't really understand it, but it was some sort of ritual meant to restore all of Kanzaki's repressed memories. After following the child ghost for what felt like hours, they had been led into a series of manmade caves. It wasn't long before Mochizuki recognized them as the caves Kanzaki-san and Suga-kun had been trapped in, which he had gained access to through the well behind the museum, and then again through a trap door in the back room in the museum itself. Mochizuki hated the place, and was even less willing than before to go on, but Kanzaki was inexorable. They went in, following the child, to a deep room filled with musty books and a trio of disturbing masks hanging on one wall.

It was out of the rain at least, and since they were out of the wind it was a little warmer, too. But it was hardly what Mochizuki wanted in terms of 'warm and dry' to halt Kanzaki-san's diving core temperature. The ghost they were trusting their lives with told them that they needed to be here to perform some ritual, and that for a little while they would be safe from the other spirits that were seeking them out. But before they could do anything, Kanzaki needed her memories back.

Mochizuki was willing to confess that he understood very little of what was going on, save some of the bottom line practicalities he had to deal with, but this returning of Kanzaki's memories was perhaps something he understood the least. From what he had been able to gather, her memories hadn't been taken from her per se, but had been pulled apart and the pieces locked away, all using the night glowstone. To regain her memories, she would have to find some way to unlock and sort them all back into their proper places. It didn't sound particularly easy, and the ghost only gave two possible methods to go about it: with someone experienced using the stones, or a spirit acting as a guide.

Which effectively brought them to where they were now. Kanzaki-san had fallen unconscious and the ghost had disappeared, leaving Mochizuki alone in the dark, echoing caves. He shivered a little, and drew his knees closer to his chest. He had no idea how long this process was meant to take, or if there was anything he was supposed to do, or supposed not to do. He had no idea how much time they had until the rest of the ghosts found them. And in the meantime all he could do was watch as Kanzaki grew paler, colder, and wonder if he hadn't made a terrible mistake, if she would ever wake up.

When five minutes passed and the girl had not so much as twitched, Mochizuki had made himself busy. Leaving Kanzaki with as many layers of his own clothing as he could spare, he had gone outside and gathered as many tree branches as he could. They were springy pine branches, and when laid out they made for a surprisingly soft mattress. He formed one on the floor of the room and moved Kanzaki to it. It wasn't the most comfortable or the warmest, but it was better than lying on the floor where the stone would leech away whatever warmth she still had. After some consideration and a few minutes seated on the ground, he had made a second, smaller mattress for him to sit on.

He had considered trying to light a fire, but everything was soaked through, and with no ventilation a damp fire in a cave probably wasn't the wisest of choices. Even a city boy such as himself knew that much. He had also considered lying down next to Kanzaki to share some of his body heat, but he knew from training manuals that it would do little good unless it was skin to skin.

If it came to a matter of life or death that was an option, but he doubted Kanzaki would understand if she woke up to that. So he sat nearby. Close enough, he hoped, that some radiant warmth could be shared and where he could monitor her condition.

It was just so hard to tell if things were going well or not. How was Mochizuki supposed to tell the difference between a peaceful false-slumber and a dangerous one unless Kanzaki-san started stirring in her sleep? And if that did happen, what was he supposed to do about it?

Left in the darkened expanse of the caves with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company, Mochizuki couldn't help but wonder what exactly it was they were meant to be accomplishing. Kanzaki-san wanted to regain her memories, which she seemed all too aware were missing in the first place. He couldn't say he blamed her. To be aware of a large portion of your life being missing must be frightening, and might explain a little of the dark smudges under her eyes. Suga-kun would be upset, though, and it was an unanswered question in Mochizuki's mind how long Kanzaki-san would be allowed to retain her recovered memories.

The ghost had said something about a ritual, one after the one they were currently acting out to restore Kanzaki's memory, and in the forest had said something about saving 'her.' He had no idea who 'her' might be in this case, since the ghost had clearly meant for Kanzaki-san to be the one doing the saving, nor had he any clue what Kanzaki would be expected to do in order to save her. He hoped whatever all of this was leading up to would result in their leaving the forest alive. The longer they stayed, the more he doubted it.

It took a moment for Shiori to remember where she was when she opened her eyes. For a second she expected to be in her bed in her parent's house, then as her memory caught up far enough to remember the car accident, in her apartment with Rin. That had been in the rain as well, hadn't it…?

Then the spool of memories she had just relived pushed themselves forward on her consciousness, and the present became lost in the jumble of memories from childhood, from a month ago, from a day ago. Lying as still as possible, she waited for the dizzying storm in her mind to stop before trying to open her eyes again.

When the room resettled and her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she remembered. She was in the caves. Again. And it was the 'again' part that was the real wonder of it. She had her memories back, and among them was the definite knowledge that she should not be here. The last time she had been here, she had been under siege by possibly every spirit in the forest. But the child spirit had led them here as a safe place. It needed them here for something.

Something prickled her skin when she moved, trying to spot Mochizuki. She was lying on a bed of tree branches. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but it was better than the stone floor. Recent memory was still a little uncertain, but she was fairly confident that she hadn't lain down on a bed of prickly needles.

When she found Mochizuki sitting at her left shoulder, the mini mystery was solved. The whole front of his uniform was speckled in pine needles. In the light of his flashlight, she could also see that he had dozed off sitting up, his gun within easy reach.

Shiori smiled at sight of him. He really was a good man, and a good friend. She had her memories of him back along with everything else, and was beginning to recognize a certain pattern of his for rescuing people. And even when he knew that getting her memories back would cause problems, he still helped her. Of course, if the memos she had found in the museum meant what she thought they did, he had also known her memories were going to be taken from her and hadn't stopped it… but she thought she could forgive him for that.

Shiori stretched, not feeling at all rested. Like the last time she had recovered her memories, she felt groggy and disconnected from the world around her. It was a nostalgic feeling and she almost expected to see Suga-kun beside her crying his eyes out instead of-

Suga-kun.

Since getting back to Azakawa, she had yet to see him, not even at the museum. What had happened to him after she left? He would have guarded the forest just as he had done before, but he had been doing that for years. Surely nothing would have happened to him…?

Her arm felt incredibly heavy as she reached up and touched Mochizuki lightly on the leg. He started violently awake, automatically reached for his gun as his eyes darted back and forth.

When he saw what it was that had awoken him, he immediately gave up on groping for his pistol. He smiled a little blearily at her. "Kanzaki-san."

"Wh-Where's… Suga-kun?"

The smile tilted at that. "Well, no need to ask if it worked, I suppose."

"Mochizuki-kun!"

The young officer sighed and stretched his back, making several joints snap loudly. "Don't worry. So far as I know, he's just fine. He's gone somewhere to make more of those glowstone things to keep the ghosts out of town." He looked at her, examining her face. "Suga-kun can handle himself, Kanzaki-san. He knows his way around and what he's doing. You should be worried about us."

Shiori frowned at him, but knew Mochizuki was at least partially right. Suga had a better idea of how to deal with the ghosts than either one of them did, and in addition was not in their sights. The ghosts of the children and the Kotori Obake were after the two of them, not Suga-kun. As much as she wanted to dash out and make certain that he was alright, she knew that it was a foolish endeavor.

Mochizuki was right, Suga could handle himself well enough, and finding him might actually lead the danger to him.

As backwards as it seemed, she couldn't protect him by being near him, by putting herself directly between him and the approaching danger. She had tried that when they had been children. He had lived, but without a voice and trapped as the guardian of the forest. He had tried to protect her by taking her memories - twice - in hopes that distance and forgetting her promise to the Kotori Obake would save her. It had saved her, she had lived to adulthood unmolested by the supernatural world, and in a way she had succeeded in saving him, since he was also alive.

But they had also failed. In both cases they had done almost as much harm as good to each other.

The way they had been going about things was all wrong. It was all based on sacrifice and running away, which only worked in the short term. The only way they could really protect each other, the only way she could protect Suga, would be to make all of this STOP.

"Kanzaki-san?"

Shiori looked up. Mochizuki was watching her worriedly. It made her wonder how bad she looked. It made her wonder how bad she was.

"What now?"

She took a deep breath, determination and her restored memories giving her more strength than she'd had in weeks. She felt warmer, more centered in herself with the memory of Suga-kun returned to her. "Now," she said, "we have to hurry. I- remem-member my promise… The K-Kotori Obak-ke can come f-for me. Only a matter of… t-time before she finds us."

The child ghost was exhausted after helping restore her memories, and could no longer appear as he had in the forest. But while it had been in her mind the ghost had told her some of what and who he was, and what he wanted in return for helping her.

The child ghost was the Kotori Obake's real child, one that had been taken from her and killed, and was in fact the central obsession of the Kotori Obake. Shiori could tell that not all of the details of the story were being provided, but it seemed the Kotori Obake, the 'child stealer,' did so because she was trying to replace her own stolen child. The child, for whatever reason, could not rejoin his mother in the afterlife without the completion of a ritual begun years ago.

If Shiori understood all she had been told and they completed the ritual, the curse on the forest and on Azakawa would be lifted. The Kotori Obake would be purified, and no more children would go missing ever again.

It could all stop.

Shiori explained as best she could to Mochizuki, who already knew a great deal about the Kotori Obake, which was surprising for an outsider. The only problem was knowing exactly they were meant to do. Shiori knew the gist, but the actual details of the ritual were fuzzy, and the child ghost was too drained to guide them through it all.

"The ritual was… s-started a long time ago," Shiori said, rubbing at her arms in a vain attempt to bring some life back into them. After standing and realizing just how weak she was, the bed of branches was suddenly one of the most comfortable things she had ever seen. "By people who… lived down here. There should be clues…"

Mochizuki looked around skeptically, sweeping the flashlight through the dark. It wasn't a very large room, but there were two sections, a lower and higher half separated by a few stairs. They had camped out in the lower half and the mess of the pine bed took up nearly the whole floor. The higher half of the floor held a couple of rough bookshelves, sagging and leaning into each other with age, their shelves vomiting books and loose pages onto the floor. He nodded towards them.

"There's a good place to start."

Shiori really didn't want to walk, not even the short distance to the shelves. She was tired, her feet hurt, and all she really wanted to do was curl into a tiny, tight little ball and sleep. She forced herself, though, stumbling up the stairs as her legs refused to work properly and having to lean on Mochizuki's arm. She did her best to ignore the three masks hanging on the wall; she had the creepy feeling that they were watching her.

Working together in the glow of the flashlight, they scanned through the books and loose papers. Most of them were in poor condition. Whatever care they might have had once had been lacking for some time. The damp, which Shiori could only assume the once occupants of the place had staved off somehow, had damaged nearly every volume. A few were so spoiled they were beyond hope of ever being read again. She hoped that whatever they needed, if it was here at all, wasn't in one of those.

Most of the books were full of old research of the village, sometimes interspersed with notes in margins or extra pages inserted, crowded with a small hand. It looked as though part of the purpose of this place was in keeping Azakawa's history intact, a lost library of written records. It reminded Shiori of the library in the museum. Suga-kun would probably like to see this place.

Passing over volumes that looked like records and histories of the village itself - there were too many to read all of them - they eventually found what looked like a personal journal kept by someone who worked in the caves. They flipped through the crackling pages, searching for their clue.

"Wait!" Shiori stopped Mochizuki from turning a page near the end of the journal. "Here, see?" She pointed to a passage where the handwriting of the journalist had been very tight and controlled, then quickly loosened and became crooked.

'…to put her to rest it is necessary to give offerings to the casket resting on a pedestal. A purified corpse has been put inside; however, the contents of the casket are incomplete, making it impossible to complete any ritual. Perhaps this is the only hope our ancestors, driven by guilty consciences, were able to leave behind… As long as we are unable to find the missing piece of the corpse, purify it, and restore it to its casket, that hope can never be realized. Even though it's just a tiny fragment. '

Mochizuki nodded slowly. The flashlight was shaking slightly in his hand. Shiori wasn't the only one who was cold. "This looks right. And I remember seeing a stone pedestal. But this missing piece is a problem. If they couldn't find it then, I don't see how we're going to find-"

The officer stopped abruptly as Shiori lifted her palm up into the flashlight's beam. Flashing all along its sharp edges was the white fragment she had been carrying with her. Mochizuki stared at it for a moment, and then turned a questioning look on her.

Shiori shrugged a little self-consciously. "I f-found it… last time I was here. I still-ll had it when I got home." Apparently Suga-kun had been willing to take the photo of her family standing outside the mansion that had led her to Azakawa the first time, but hadn't been willing to search her pockets for anything else that might bring her back. Or if he had searched her, he hadn't thought anything of the fragment.

Shiori promised herself that she would ask which it was when she saw him again, and in so doing promised herself that she would see him again.

"Are you sure this is the one we need? It doesn't look like a piece of a body."

She was about to say that no, she wasn't sure that it was the piece that was mentioned in the journal, but found herself nodding instead. "Yes. When I h-held it, I could hear the li-little ghost better. Maybe it's a- a fragment of bone." As she said it she felt a little ill, thinking of how she had been carrying a bit of a child's bone in her pocket all this time, treating it like a charm. She pressed down her queasiness. It could keep until she had time to indulge it.

Mochizuki pulled a face, apparently struck with the same line of thinking. "Okay," he said. "That's the piece that we need. But what about the purification? Or the casket?"

Shiori shook her head. "The ghost- h-he said we had to be here to- to do the ritual. Whatever else we need, it m-must be here somewhere." It was a leap of faith, but it was getting hard to think, and harder to argue. After fighting for so long, it was only fair that things to fall into place, wasn't it?

Thankfully Mochizuki didn't seem too interested in continuing his objections. He nodded, and after tucking the small volume into one of his many pockets, put his arm around her again to help her walk.

There wasn't much to the room they were in, and a quick perusal of its darkest corners revealed nothing in the way of a casket or any way of purifying the fragment. With Mochizuki still supporting her, they left to search the rest of the caves.

They were in a section that Shiori didn't recognize, even with her memories returned. When she asked Mochizuki where they were, he said they were not far from the entrance to the back room in the museum. The door to this section had been locked when the spirit had brought them here, and he'd had to break the handle to get them inside. When she tried, Shiori could vaguely recall that. She'd been quite hazy by that time.

The room just outside the one they had been camping in was more exposed. When Mochizuki swung his flashlight around they could see two doors, the one to the right being the one Mochizuki had broken open, while the one to the left led to somewhere unknown. It was an easy door to spot, would have been easy to spot even without Mochizuki's flashlight. Set above the threshold was a mass of coarse night glowstone, shining in the darkness. Shiori wondered how long it had been there, and how powerful the Ogami-san that had put it there had to have been for it to still be so bright? In the center of the room was what looked like a large stone basin filled with clear water. There were symbols etched into the stone along the outside, but Shiori didn't recognize them, couldn't read them. If she had to guess, she thought they looked a little like a Buddhist sutra. There were more of them all around the inside, too.

Shiori frowned at the water. It seemed like an awful lot of effort to go to just store water when there was already so much throughout the cave systems. Perhaps when this had been constructed there hadn't been so much? But no, that couldn't be right. There were trenches cut into the floor all around the edges of the room and were all filled with running water. She could think of no other purpose for them, and yet another reservoir had been installed in the same room, and painstakingly carved with symbols.

The water was so clean and clear after all these years, surely that wasn't natural…?

"Mochizuki-kun, do you think this is where we're meant to purify the fragment?"

He looked, shining the flashlight over it again. "It certainly looks like it could be." He nodded. "Go ahead and try it. I doubt it will do any harm if it's wrong."

It wasn't exactly the most heartening line of thinking, but Shiori would take it. She took the fragment from her pocket and went to dip it into the water, but she was shaking so badly that she was sure she would drop it, and clamped her fingers around the piece. Mochizuki saw the problem, and gently took the fragment from her. He plunged both hands into the water, hissing at the cold, and scrubbed the piece with his fingers while Shiori held the flashlight.

"Do you suppose there's a chant or something we're supposed to do with this?"

"I hope not." Shiori concentrated on holding the flashlight steady. It was ridiculous how difficult it was to accomplish something so simple.

"Alright," Mochizuki pulled his hands out of the water, the drips reminding Shiori of the rain still falling outside. "I think this is as clean as this is going to get without taking a scrub brush to it."

Shiori looked. It did seem cleaner, and it hadn't looked all that dirty to begin with. She nodded with a little difficulty. "Okay. Now the casket."

Mochizuki nodded, shaking the water off of his hands, spattering the floor with dark little circles. "I don't remember seeing anything like a casket on our way in, so I think our best bet would be through there." He pointed to the third, illuminated doorway.

Shiori nodded her head in agreement, and together they approached the door.

A low kind of fence separated the room from the door, making the approach much more formal than would be expected in a cave. As they came closer, Shiori saw that there were small waterfalls of water coming from underneath the wall, feeding into the trenches in the floor. The wall was carved from top to bottom in writing. Like the water basin, it was beyond her understanding what any of it said, and was so blurred in any case she doubted anyone could read it.

Beyond the door was another room. They stopped in the doorway and stared. If either had doubted that whoever had constructed this place was part of a very organized, ritualistic group, those doubts were put to rest. On each side of them stood two stone tōrō lanterns, making four in all, each one casting a strong, steady blue glow from night glowstones crammed inside. Beyond the lighted path, illuminated in blue, were six low stone figures of the Buddha, each one with a different engraving at their bases. This writing Shiori could read, and from left to right they read 'Deva Realm,' 'Human Realm,' 'Asura Realm,' 'Animal Realm,' 'Preta Realm,' and 'Naraka Realm.'

"It's like a tera, a Buddhist temple," Mochizuki commented.

Shiori could only nod. She had wondered before, but now she really wanted to know who these people were that had put all of this together. Were they outsiders, a part of Azakawa, or were they her own ancestors, a part of the Kanzaki family? If this was the work of her family, then why had it been abandoned? If it was someone else's work, then where had they gone?

Behind the statues was a low wall, with an opening between the 'Asura Realm' and 'Animal Realm' Buddhas. The light of the glowstone would not penetrate the darkness beyond, so it wasn't until they stepped through and shone the flashlight that they could see what was there.

All along each wall were rows of sotoba, wooden grave markers. They stood row upon row, half a dozen deep in places, and from what Shiori could see, not a single name painted on them was repeated. She couldn't know for certain, but Shiori was struck with the very strong impression that she was looking at the names of all the children who had gone missing in Azakawa Forest, the victims of the Kotori Obake. At least, all of those victims before the people who cared for this place had disappeared. How many more children had there been since?

As unsettling as the sotoba were, it was the center of the room that really drew their attention. Partially partitioned by another low fence, the center of the floor was carved with more writing that Shiori could not read, but given their surroundings she was almost certain it was a Buddhist sutra. Set against the back wall was another statue of Buddha, this one labeled 'Terrible Brute.'

And placed in the center of the writing was a small casket, just the right size to hold the remains of a child.

The two tired travelers looked at each other, and without a word went to the casket. For a moment they stood and stared at it.

Perhaps it was the temple-like atmosphere of the place, or being surrounded by so many grave markers and knowing that there ought to be more, but Shiori felt a quiet melancholy slip over her. There ought to be more to all of this, she thought. Not because it might be required, but because it seemed right. There ought to be something as a mark of respect, an acknowledgement of all of the misery that had taken place, represented in the names surrounding them, centered on the long dead child in the casket. Shiori looked around at the sotoba, at the lonely coffin, at the tiny fragment cupped in her hand.

How much pain and suffering had collected over the years, all to be stopped now by something so small? Nothing could undo what had already passed, but how much more would they be preventing?

After a minute of silence Mochizuki nudged her shoulder. "C'mon, Kanzaki. Let's get this finished, and then we can get out of here."

She nodded. "Right."

Working together, they lifted the heavy lid and slipped the fragment inside.

There was a flash of light as the lid settled back into place, and what sounded like the child's voice whispering. "Thank you."

"Okay," Mochizuki said, sounding more energetic than he had in awhile. "Now we just put it on the pedestal, right?" He frowned slightly. "That was further down the hall, I think, in the room just before the one with the trapdoor to the mansion."

It took a little effort to remember, but eventually Shiori did as well. Mochizuki might feel revived, but she was finding it harder with each passing minute to resist the temptation to just lie down and close her eyes. Every limb felt as though it had a sandbag attached to it. Even her thoughts were slow, like they were slogging through mud. Not long ago she hadn't been able to sleep; now she thought she was close to sleeping forever.

Mochizuki could see how close she was to collapsing, and he put a cold hand to her even colder cheek to get her attention. "Kanzaki-san. We're nearly there. If you can hold the flashlight, I'm pretty sure I can handle getting the casket where we need. Do you think you can last a little longer?"

She could see the concern, the doubt in his eyes. She wanted to smile, to straighten her spine and tell him of course she could last that long, to reassure him and give him the courage he needed, that they both needed… but she couldn't. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't rally the energy for it. So instead she bit her lips together and nodded once.

As little as it was, it seemed to be enough for the policeman. He handed her the flashlight and went about getting the casket's bar settled over his shoulders so he could drag it.

Progress was slow. The casket was small but it was still heavy, and it was awkward for Mochizuki to maneuver around corners. Shiori, too, was having trouble moving, and she only had to contend with herself. Once past the low wall, it was much easier to progress along the rough sandō, between the glowstone tōrō lanterns.

They passed through the door overhung with more glowstone and the walls etched with illegible sutras without a problem. When they were just passing the basin of purifying water the whispers in her mind, which had been so quiet she had almost forgotten they were there, surged up in here mind so suddenly she clutched at her head, dropping the flashlight.

"Kanzaki! What is it?"

Shiori couldn't speak, could barely tell that Mochizuki was shouting. She was aware that she was moving before it registered that the motion came from the officer shaking her. The voices in her mind were so much louder, clearer, all clamoring to be heard, making the space where she stood… sat… feel incredibly crowded. There was too much, and it was all in her head, with no way to get away from it.

"The children," she gasped, and hoped Mochizuki could hear her, for she couldn't hear herself. "All of the children she took, they're coming! They're here!"

The officer did hear her. His face went paler, and he turned, scooping up the flashlight from the floor. With surprising speed he got to his feet, drew his gun and crossed his wrists so that the beam and gun barrel were pointing in the same direction. He turned in place, scanning for threats, at the ready… with a completely useless weapon.

Nothing fell into his sights, but they didn't have long to wait.

They came through the walls. First only a couple, then more and more, until Mochizuki and Shiori were being pressed back by dozens of ghostly children. They had to abandon the casket, chased away from it by to the door of the room they had been camping in. Mochizuki swept his pistol back and forth across the crowd, searching for a target and knowing that none would be affected even if he fired.

Shiori stumbled backwards, not quite able to climb to her feet, staring at the children from behind Mochizuki's legs.

They were terrible to look at, each one a twisted parody of the sweet child they had been in life. Unlike before she had regained her memory and knew what they were, now there was a good measure of pity mixed with her fear. In one ghost, whose face was half crushed, she could still make out the baseball jersey he had been wearing when he had died. Another, who looked as though she had been partially skinned, still had her hair up in little braids.

They were quickly up against the wall, with nowhere to go but inside the room that had been their haven before. Shiori wished they could reach the door to the shrine. There they would be protected by the glowstone, but that way had been cut off. They were trapped where they were.

There was an explosion. Perhaps by accident, Mochizuki fired his gun.

Shiori had been wrong to think that bullets would have no effect. The ghosts did react. They attacked.

Three rushed Mochizuki. Shiori couldn't see what all they did, but from her vantage she saw as one apparently ran into the officer and was absorbed into him.

Mochizuki twitched, convulsed. His fingers went slack and both the gun and the flashlight clattered to the floor, the light spinning around the room crazily. Shiori watched in horror as Mochizuki slowly folded to the floor, still jerking.

"No!"

She reached for him, and then jerked her hand back as the spirits rushed a little closer.

Black terror threatened to overwhelm her. She looked towards Mochizuki's gun, even though it had proved itself ineffective against the ghosts. Even if it was a poor weapon, she would feel better with something, some sort of charm…

Charm.

Shiori pulled off the necklace she had taken from the museum and threw it into the mass of gathered children.

There was a loud crack as the glowstone pendant shattered. Shiori ducked instinctively, covering her head with her hands and as much of Mochizuki with her body as she could. When she looked up she was shocked. The room was empty. No spirits remained. Across the floor were sparkling shards of the shattered pendant.

As quickly as she could, Shiori checked on Mochizuki. She nearly fainted with relief when she saw he was breathing. It was weak, and he looked even paler than her hands, now, but he was breathing. She looked around, taking stock.

There was no way she would be able to drag the casket as far as it needed to go, much less hoist it up onto a pedestal. Mochizuki had been struggling, and he had been in much better condition than she was, not to mention stronger. The casket would be staying where it was.

They couldn't stay out in this room with it, though. They had to get to a better position. The best would be the shrine, but as with trying the drag the casket a long distance, dragging the dead weight of Mochizuki that far was also out of the question.

Which left her only one option.

Dragging Mochizuki and the flashlight back into the room with the pine bed and the masks, even though its door was practically pressed to her back, took all of Shiori's remaining strength. She got him inside, kicked the door closed, and used the last dribbles of energy she had to get them both back onto the pine branches. The beds would help conserve whatever warmth they still had, which she didn't think could be much.

Even as she settled, her back to Mochizuki, knees to her chest, facing the door and clutching the sputtering flashlight for whatever protection it could give against the dark, she knew the situation wouldn't last long. If she didn't succumb to hypothermia first, then the spirits would be back soon to have them both.

Or the Kotori Obake.

Holding the failing light close, her last thought before unconsciousness claimed her was how she wished she could have seen Suga again.

Suga-kun…

A/N2: Well, this ought to have been very familiar to anyone who's played the game. :)

It was actually really interesting to do research for this chapter, and it was by far the chapter that needed the most research done for it. As we've all no doubt assumed, those who made and worked in the caves that appear at the end of the game must have been Buddhists of some description, what with all the statues of Buddha lying around, but for those of us unschooled in the details of this religion, there's more which might have gone right over our heads.

For example, the six statues which are labeled Deva, Asura, etc., are also clues that this is a Buddhist shrine of some kind. Each of these six statues represents the six possible realms of rebirth found in Buddhism, specifically Tibetan Mahāyāna Buddhism. The construction and design of the place also heavily suggests a Buddhist temple. The definitions I'm about to give are super pared down and simplified, and I'm just giving them out to give an idea of what we're looking at. As with anything with religion and ritual, entire books can and have been written trying to explain them. There's a happy medium to be found with deeper, selective research, but that's not for here.

Deva Realm: The realm of bliss and pride, sometimes called 'the god's realm,' but those who live within it are not actually gods in the way Western cultures picture them. Being born into this realm is kind of awesome, except that things are so nice you'll probably forget about that pesky enlightenment quest thing and just laze about with your other god-like friends.

Human Realm: A realm based on passion, desire and doubt. If that sounds familiar it should, this is home sweet home to anyone reading this. Generally considered the most advantageous realm, as it's considered the only one from which one can achieve enlightenment. Why only from here? Personal opinion is because humans tend to think a lot of themselves.

Asura Realm: The realm based on jealousy, struggle, combat and rationalization, and populated with demigods. Spirits here were reborn into this realm because in human form they had good intentions but fell down on carrying them out, usually by causing harm.

Animal Realm: Based on strong states of ignorance and prejudice cultivated in a previous life. It's considered a slow and difficult process to achieve enough merit to get out of this realm and back to a higher one, such as Human.

Preta Realm: A realm of strong possessiveness and desires, it's also known as 'Hungry Ghost Realm.' After doing a bunch of reading, I would almost classify the Kotori Obake as a Preta, but she doesn't quite fit. Preta are constantly hungry and thirsty, but never able to satisfy those desires.

Naraka Realm: A realm of hatred, this is also referred to as 'Hell Realm.' Different from Western hells, spirits are not trapped here forever, but just until their bad karma is used up, and then they are allowed to be born into a 'higher' realm.

Terrible Brute: I wasn't able to find anything referring to this, and so I assume it was something made up for the game, specifically referring to the Kotori Obake.

Sotoba: Wooden boards written with the names of the deceased, usually left beside or behind the grave of one who already has a stone. Knowing that, all the ones we see in game are probably for the Kotori Obake's child, but we aren't told so directly, so I get to interpret.

Tera: A Buddhist temple. From what I can find a Buddhist temple in Japan is called "tera" (or "dera" depending on grammar) or "ji." I'm not positive if these words are ever used as completely standalone words or only as a word-part to a larger phrase. I wasn't able to confirm it either way, so don't go running off with this word to show off to people.

Sandō: This is the road or walk approaching a Shinto shrine or Buddhist temple.

Tōrō: These are lanterns often used at shrines and temples, and for anyone familiar with anime or Japanese architecture at all, you will recognize them as soon as you see them. Google bar! :D Tōrō can be made of stone, metal or wood. They can be hanging (tsuri-dōrō), on a pedestal (tachi-dōrō), "buried" (ikekomi-dōrō), mobile (oki-dōrō), on curved legs (yukimi-dōrō), or made out of rough stones (nozura-dōrō). If that seems like a lot, yes it is, but there's a lot more than even that.

If you're still reading, congrats! And thank you, that was a lot. ^^;

Thank you for reading, everyone, and for your patience!