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Return to Hinamizawa III – Inheritance Chapter

2
When the Cicadas Cry

The door creaked in protest as I tugged it open. The passage beyond was dark, and heavy with dust in the air. A large cobweb hung over the doorframe. Beyond was an empty corridor with a wooden floor, and here and there a black gap where a floorboard was missing or rotted away. The paint on the walls had faded to a mucky grey, with cracks running up and down it like black vines. No sound came from inside the house – at least, none that we could make out, with the rain and wind still battering the ground around us. I glanced behind me to see whether Miaka was the type to be easily scared. Kotone and Kizuna don't dare to come here, and that's why it's such a great place to come when I want some time to be alone.

But Miaka just pushed past me and shut the door behind us. Too vigorously. It blew dust straight in our faces, and I choked a little and rubbed my eyes. We were almost in total darkness now. There was a window in the side wall, framed by what was left of the moth-eaten curtains, but the clouds were so heavy now that the light coming through was faint and fitful. Now that we were inside, we began to hear sounds, coming from above us: the rain drumming on the floor through an open or missing window somewhere, and a door swaying and groaning in the wind.

Miaka turned her head upwards, and listened.

"Is there someone up there?" she said after a while.

"Oh, only the ghosts, if you believe in that sort of thing," I laughed.

"How long has this house been empty?"

"Since before I was born," I said. "No-one ever comes here now."

"Not even the tramps?"

"Heh, city girl," I chuckled. "We don't have tramps in Hinamizawa. The Sonozaki family wouldn't stand for it."

Miaka coughed.

"Are you okay?" I said.

"Just a bit cold." Now that she mentioned it, I was shivering a little. The rainwater was beginning to soak through my clothes and sting my skin. "I don't suppose there's any chance of a cup of tea?"

"Whyever not?" I said. "Come on up, and make yourself at home!"

The look of astonishment on her face was simply delicious.

I sprang up the stairs. They made such a lovely creak under my heavy footfall, it was almost like music. Miaka followed, more cautiously.

"Come on up!" I called out. "The stairs won't hurt you. Well, except for the sixth, it fell through a couple of years ago. Gave me a real fright."

At the top of the stairs was a long corridor. There was a bit more light here, coming from a round window at the far end. But all it revealed was specks of dust dancing in the air. The walls were bare and grimy, and the only furnishing was the skeleton of a lampshade. The second door on the right was so rotten, it had split in half, and a blast of cold air came through it as we passed. Miaka looked very uncomfortable, huddling herself tight to keep out the cold, and staring at me as though she wondered whether this was all an elaborate practical joke. I just smiled.

I went up to the last door on the left, and eased it open, and then turned around and bowed to Miaka. "Welcome to my den!"

Miaka came up to me and looked inside. And gasped. If her astonishment had been delicious before, this time it was truly a feast for the eyes.

I discovered the house three years ago. Toyonaga Hitomi was the club leader then – she's gone away to university now. I don't miss her. She always made sure everyone kept in line, and her punishment games were harsh. You would have to wait on her like a servant for a week, or, if she was in a particularly vindictive mood, spend an afternoon going up to strangers and calling out "I love you!" More than once, I tried to run away to avoid the punishments, and when I was caught, she would have given me an extra punishment for that, if Akito hadn't intervened.

And then one day I found the empty house. It was perfect. Hitomi had a horror of getting herself dirty. She would never think to look for me somewhere like this. I just had to keep still and be silent, and she would give up searching for me sooner or later. But it was a cold autumn day, and the wind kept finding its way through the cracks and rubbing its icy blade against my cheeks. I huddled in a shivering heap and waited. The hours passed, more slowly than I had ever known. But Hitomi never found me that day.

So I decided to make that house my special place. I would choose one room and fill it with creature comforts, and it would become not just a refuge, but a second home. I asked Akito casually if he had a spare blanket I could have, and he gave me a cast-off from one of the servants. It was a garish pink, and the stuffing was beginning to fall out, but it made the den more home-like at once. A week later, I got him to give me a cushion. It didn't match the blanket, but who cared? And so, slowly, one little thing at a time so that no-one would know what I was doing, I built my den. Naoya gave me a heater and a kettle. I couldn't get those from Akito without him asking curious questions, but with Naoya, I could just say that I wanted them, and that would be that. As for mugs and plates, the Sonozakis always lent those to Rika when there was a festival, and the club members would help to shift them. And no-one would notice if just one or two went missing. Teas and snacks were easy enough to take from Mother's kitchen. She has a huge collection of different kinds of tea. I also helped myself to canned food and bottled drinks, anything that would last, just a little whenever I could get it. By the end of the year, I had enough to withstand a siege.

Hitomi graduated school and left the village without ever discovering my secret.

Now, as I showed Miaka into the room, our eyes were met with a dazzling array of colour. I had put up yellow wallpaper decorated with flowers, warm red curtains, and a landscape on the wall. The floor was covered by a circle of cushions, piled high so that you could jump on them and bounce. Against the wall was a collection of manga and games, with blankets draped over them to keep off the dust. A number of teddy bears sat around the kotatsu, with plastic plates in front of them as if they were having a tea party. I even had a wardrobe containing some spare clothing, though not very much, as Mother would have noticed if my clothes started going missing.

Miaka couldn't say a word. She just gazed around the room with awestruck eyes.

I grinned. "It's quite something, huh?"

"It's amazing! You did all this?"

"Uh-huh."

"How long did it take you?"

"I've been coming here for nearly three years."

"Wow." She shook her head repeatedly. "I wish I had a den like this."

I shot her a glance. "You feel like you need to get away from people sometimes?"

"Don't we all?" Miaka said with a smile. "It must be so peaceful here."

"Sure thing," I said. "It's lovely and quiet. Except of course for the wind always blowing through the house, the doors creaking, footsteps on the stairs..."

"Footsteps?"

I laughed and nudged her. "Ooh, are you scared?"

"Not at all, just curious," said Miaka. "Why don't you make us some tea, and tell me all about it?"

"Sure thing," I said. And I leapt onto a large blue cushion, which buckled under me with a satisfying squelch. I dug the kettle out from its hiding-place, and uncovered my selection of teas.

"Uh, I'm not bothered," she said after staring at them for a while. "Whatever you like."

"Fine by me, but don't ever let Mother hear you say that."

She chuckled, and we sat down together and sipped our tea. It was a lovely cosy feeling, to be inside, getting warm again, while the rain was still battering the street just outside the window.

"So, what are these footsteps?"

"Oh, that," I said. "Sometimes when I come here, if I'm here for a long time, I don't hear them at first, but when everything else begins to melt away into silence, sometimes you can just hear a slow, steady creaking, like someone tiptoeing up or down the stairs, as if they don't want you to notice them. Then, if you listen really hard, you can hear a gentle tapping in the corridor, like someone treading ever so lightly across the floorboards, coming towards you... but if you open the door and look out, there's never anyone there."

I looked up at Miaka to see if she was scared. She just looked mildly curious.

"A ghost?" she asked.

"It could be a demon." I grinned. "Kotone's terrified of demons. That's why she won't come near this place."

"But you think it's a ghost," said Miaka.

"Well..." I took a slow sip of tea. "Let's just say there are stories about this house..."

"What kind of stories?"

I didn't answer for a while. I put my tea down, crossed over to the window, and peered out through the crack in the curtains.

"What are you doing?" said Miaka.

"Just checking the weather. If I'm going to start telling you ghost stories, and you get scared, you know that we're stuck here until the rain dies down..."

"I don't scare that easily."

"Anyway, it's getting dark," I said. "I should light a candle."

I went over to a little cupboard, which somehow remained mostly intact from the original furnishings of the house. I got out a set of scented candles, which I got in Okinomiya as a prize in a Monopoly contest. I placed one in the centre of the table and lit it. All at once, the air around us seemed to grow heavy and solid, as if it was holding us still until the tale was told. A wisp of smoke rose up and swirled around, hovering over us and watching. I spread myself out on the cushions.

Miaka knelt elegantly on the floor and waited for me to begin.

"So, they say that the man who used to live in this house – I don't know how long ago it was, or his name or any other details. But he had an evil reputation. He was some kind of crook or swindler, but the police were never able to catch him. And he had a nasty temper. He never made any friends. The villagers all feared and avoided him. But he didn't care; he just wanted to be left in peace to gloat over his ill-gotten gains." I slowed down, savouring every word; I noticed that Miaka was leaning forward and drinking them in. "But then his brother died, leaving behind a little girl who was now an orphan. He was her only remaining relative. He took her into his home. Not out of the goodness of his heart, you can be sure of that. But he thought she could be useful to him, as a servant. So he beat her to make her submissive. If she didn't do exactly what he ordered, or if she didn't do it well enough, he beat her. If she complained, he beat her some more. And they say that if you come here at night, sometimes you can still hear her voice, sobbing as she holds back the tears, or counting under her breath to pass the time and make the pain go away..."

Miaka was a more sensitive soul than I had given her credit for. She looked so utterly woebegone, it was hard not to laugh.

"But how could they just let that happen?" she said. "The villagers, I mean. Why didn't the Sonozaki family do anything?"

I shook my head. "That's a matter of village politics. You wouldn't understand."

"I certainly don't understand how anyone could turn a blind eye to something like that," Miaka said heatedly.

"Why, does nothing like that ever happen in the city?" I retorted.

There was a long silence.

"Is there any more to the story?" said Miaka. "What happened to the wicked uncle?"

I nodded. "Well, his niece did have one friend. A boy who was a bit like you; he didn't understand why no-one was prepared to do anything. So he decided to take matters into his own hands. He decided to murder the uncle."

Miaka shuddered. The word "murder" always has that kind of magical effect, no matter how much you think a victim deserved what he got.

"How did he do it?" she asked.

"Well, I don't know for sure, so I'll just tell you the most common version of the story, all right? He waited until the day of the Watanagashi festival, when there would be no-one around to see him. He knew the uncle wouldn't go to the festival. And he went out alone, up the Okinomiya road, and dug a deep pit. And then he phoned the uncle, pretending to be the police, and insisted that he come to the police station in Okinomiya right away. And then he got a heavy baseball bat, went back up the road to where the pit was – and waited."

I paused and grinned. This was the best part of the story.

"So, picture the scene," I said. "A lonely road, in the middle of the woods, with trees thick on both sides. You could disappear there, and you would never be found. Twilight had fallen. The cicadas were chirping so loudly, you couldn't hear a footstep. If you got off your bicycle, someone could come up to you, and you wouldn't notice a thing until they were right behind you. And it was raining heavily. A person waiting for you at the edge of the road would be just a black shadow.

"So, along comes the wicked uncle on his bicycle. He has his head down and he's pedalling hard. He wants to get this over with and get back to his nice warm bath. All his attention is focused on that. And then – wham! The boy leaps out and strikes him. He comes crashing off his bicycle."

Miaka was perfectly still, listening as though in a trance.

"One moment he's riding along, and the next, there he is in the mud at the side of the road. He doesn't know what just happened or why. And as he looks up, he sees this huge black shape hovering above him. He can't see who or what it is. Perhaps he only sees a faint glint of light reflecting on the surface of the bat. He doesn't have time to react. The boy brings it straight down, smash, into his face. He cries out in pain, but he's too badly stunned to move. He can't do anything except lie there, and the boy strikes him with the bat, again and again and again..."

Miaka whimpered.

I blinked. "Squeamish?"

"Not at all," she said. "Go on."

"Well, the boy read detective stories, so he knew that if the police couldn't identify the body, it would be harder for them to get on the track of the killer. So he smashed the man's head with his bat until he didn't have a face any more. The rain was still pouring down all the while, taking no notice of what was happening in the mortal world. And, at last, the boy cried out with exultation that his enemy was dead, and he rolled the body into the pit and covered it up."

"And... that's it?" said Miaka. "Did the body ever get found? I suppose it must have done, or no-one would know what happened."

"I don't know," I said. "This is just a version I've heard. It might be all made up."

"Well, what do the people say happened, then?"

I took a deep breath. "They say that the ghost of the murdered man came back to this house to lie in wait for his killer. But he never found him – and so the ghost is still here, still angry, and still waiting. We're safe here in the daytime, but if anyone is foolish enough to come here at twilight, when the cicadas cry, then the ghost takes his revenge. And their bodies are found the next day with no face..."

Miaka trembled.

"Aha!" I laughed. "That really did scare you!"

"Not at all," she said quickly. "It's just... well, it must be later than I realised."

I sat still for a moment and listened. Yes, Miaka was quite right. Evening had come on quickly, and in the distance, the cicadas were warming up once more for their nightly chorus. It was still raining heavily, and I began to wonder whether we would be able to get home at all. Would the streets have turned into rivers by now? Well, it didn't matter. As I've said, I had enough food and drink in my den to last out a siege.

"How would you feel about spending the night here?" I said. "Nervous?"

"Not at all," she said. "This is a lovely den you have here, Saki-chan. I think I'll just curl up and fall right asleep."

And she curled up on the cushions, looking for all the world like a little ginger kitten.

Well, if she wasn't going to talk, I might as well make myself comfortable. I lifted the blanket off my collection of manga. That's one thing to be said in favour of Hitomi: she was always happy to pass on her old favourites once she grew tired of them, including a nearly complete set of Sailor Moon. Not exactly my own favourite, but a fun way to pass the time. I relaxed.

There was a heavy creaking sound from somewhere on the lower floor. Not just the soft moans of a door buffeted by the wind, but a slow, deep groaning.

Miaka sat up sharply. "Is there someone else in the house?"

"Can't be," I said. "We'd have heard the front door open."

"But then... what was that noise?"

I chuckled. "Miaka-chan, you're scared!"

"Honestly, I'm not," she said. "But if there is a tramp or something..."

"I told you, there are no tramps in Hinamizawa." I didn't look up from the manga.

"Well, there's someone there," she said sharply. "I'm going to look. Saki-chan, stay here."

She got to her feet. At once, I did the same.

"Are you kidding?" I glared at her. "I'm not letting you go into danger alone!"

"All right. But stay close by me."

I nudged her. "That'll help you feel less scared, will it?"

"Oh, stop it." She looked around the room, and picked up a descant recorder. "Let's go."

"If you break that..."

She ignored me, and put a finger to her lips. We went out into the passage, and stopped again to listen. The house was so full of small noises, and the air still heavy with the shrilling of the wind outside, that it was hard to be sure of what we were hearing. I was used to this house, and knew there was nothing to be afraid of, but even so, I couldn't stop myself jumping whenever a sudden noise stood out, a dull thud or a scraping sound that could have been anything.

I shook my head. "There's no-one here. Let's go back inside."

Miaka frowned thoughtfully, and stood for a moment longer.

Then, from somewhere on the lower floor, came an unmistakable thump, like some heavy object falling.

We both froze.

And then I burst out laughing.

"If only I had a camera! The look on your face –"

"Saki-chan," Miaka said in a forceful whisper. "Shut up. There's someone downstairs."

"Nah, it was just something falling over in the wind. If there really was an intruder, they'd have better things to do than going round making scaaary noises."

"Stay close beside me," she whispered. "I'm going downstairs."

I slipped my arm into hers. "Aww, does ickle Miaka-chan want me to hold her?"

"I want you to be quiet."

I was quiet. Not because I felt a duty to obey Miaka, but because it was more fun that way.

Miaka led me forward to the top of the stairs, and we looked down. The front door was still closed, and the hallway looked just as we had left it – except much darker, for the night was descending fast. Rainwater had collected in puddles along the floor, patches of light that glistened in the darkness.

As soon as we stopped, we felt at once how much colder the rest of the house was after spending time in my den. The night came in through cracks in the floorboards, holes where mice had nibbled away at the walls, everywhere. An icy blast of wind came through the broken door behind us and flicked up Miaka's hair. She looked for a moment as if a halo of fire surrounded her.

Miaka looked uncertainly down the stairs. I could tell what she was feeling: that it would be much more pleasant to go back to the den and have another cup of tea.

"Come on," she said at last.

For once, I didn't make a joke. I could feel in the tension of her hand that she really was frightened. She was counting on me for support!

We walked slowly down the stairs together. There were no more unexpected noises. Miaka listened out and grimaced, as if she was beginning to wonder whether we imagined them.

"What's that?" she said, pointing at the floor.

All right, I couldn't resist just one more joke. I peered down at the patch where she was pointing. "Mr Holmes, it's the footprints of a gigantic hound!"

"No, I'm serious. Look at the mud. Someone has been this way."

I looked, but I couldn't see what she meant. "It's just mud."

"Something heavy has been dragged through it. What's through that door?" She pointed.

"Well, it used to be the kitchen, but it's all been ripped to pieces a long time ago."

"Is there a cellar, or anything under the house?"

I stopped. "Miaka-chan, why do you ask that?"

"Well – that noise sounded like it might be coming from the cellar."

"There is one, but you don't want to go that way," I said quickly.

"Whyever not?"

I gulped. "Well, in the story, that was where the uncle took his niece when she'd earned an extra beating, so that the neighbours wouldn't hear her screams," I said quietly. It was a long time ago, but all the same, no-one likes to be reminded that such things went on in the place that is now their special refuge. That's why I've never been into the cellar. I don't want to see it. It would make the whole story much too horribly real.

Miaka nodded. She didn't like the prospect either.

"We could just leave," I said. "Let's go home."

"In this weather?"

"Well –"

She had a point. The rain was still going on, as relentlessly as ever. The streets would be more like canals by now, and I didn't have a boat to hand.

"I want to get to the bottom of this," said Miaka.

"All right. This way."

I led her through the kitchen to the cellar door. Someone, probably soon after the house had become empty, had hacked out the lock so as to raid the cellar of anything valuable, and the door now teetered dolefully on a single hinge. Beyond it, there was only a dark space from which a thick and musty smell was rising.

Miaka stopped and hesitated in the doorway.

"Don't like it?" I said. "I guess it is rather dank..."

"I suppose there's no light," said Miaka.

"Maybe the ghost of one."

"You and your ghosts!" she said. "Why am I getting the impression that you're scared?"

"I am not!"

I glared up at her, and she grinned back down at me. "Scaredy-cat!"

That was it. I wasn't going to take that. I pushed past her and almost ran down the stairs.

"Saki, wait up!" Miaka called after me. She really was frightened.

"What's up?" I shouted back. "Need me up there to hold your hand?"

"Saki, you shouldn't just run on ahead like that! What if there's a stair missing?"

"I'm fine, honest!"

"What's it like down there? Do you hear anything?"

I stopped and listened. Something was rustling in the darkness. Probably rats. At least, I hoped it was only rats. The air was moist and putrid. I wanted to retch.

"I'm fine, but I think I'd better come back up. Hang on, where did the stairs go? I was sure they were here..."

I bumped into something and cried out.

"Are you all right, Saki-chan?"

"Yeah, I just tripped. I can't find the stairs. Miaka, run back up to the den and get my torch! It's on the top shelf, in the middle next to the CD player."

Miaka ran off, and I was alone in the darkness. Cautiously, I bent down to examine the object I had stumbled over. It was bulky, but it rolled a little when I pushed against it with my leg. I had a sneaking suspicion that I didn't want to share with Miaka, in case I scared her. I moved my hand down – slowly – until, just about the height of my knees, it came into contact with fabric. I caught my breath. I felt around until I reached the edge of the fabric. My hand fell on something that was cold, moist, and sticky.

"Miaka... please hurry up," I whispered into the darkness.

Then I heard running footsteps, and Miaka panting towards the top of the stairs. She clicked on the torch, and a powerful beam of light streamed down towards me – and towards the object that lay on the floor in front of me.

And that was when I discovered what a man with no face looks like.

Author's Note

Updates will continue to be slow for the foreseeable future. However, I have some good news. I have now finished the draft of Part IV. This reaches three important landmarks: the end of the "question arcs", one third of the entire saga, and the start of Part V. I won't spoil the surprise, but the fifth arc is going to be something quite different, and one that I've been looking forward to writing for a long time. So I'm pretty excited about where RTH is going right now...