Artisan
Chapter 2

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Saturday saw Keiichi waking up with a stabbing pain in his knee, and luckily, it was reminder enough of what had happened to it. Part of him was still in disbelief. They'd had a smaller place in the city, sure, with size and cost restraints but the school had been filled with stairs and he'd so often found himself dashing on them to get to some class or other. And he'd never tripped so badly. Not enough to break a bone. Never got hit with a bat or tackled hard enough to break a bone either, though he'd played his fair share of sports and he'd sprained his wrist quite thoroughly one time. His non-dominant hand, luckily.

Unfortunately, legs really did need to be plural. He'd be stuck on the couch for a while and not being able to walk awoke a kind of restless in him, the sort that came from restraints. He wasn't the sort to tap his feet under the desk in class, but now that the option of moving from his couch was taken away, his good leg jerked restlessly and the couch, once soft, now periodically dug into his spine.

And by lunchtime, the television was getting rather boring as well. Though how many times had he dreamed he could simply relax: laze about on the couch and watch senseless things all day and not have to think. The grass was greener on the other side, of course. It always was. Now that he had the opportunity, he wanted anything but. He'd even take the stifling ride back to the city – but, of course, his father would be in the thick of the ceremony by then, wouldn't he?

Had Mion and the others made any weekend plans? He didn't think they had, or at least they'd mentioned nothing before his rather hasty and not well planned departure. He'd called Rena as soon as he'd been able to to let her know what had happened, and trusted she'd call the others. Considered Mion for a moment, since Mion was the President and he'd probably get grief from her when they next met…but he was injured and in pain and would rather have a quiet soothing voice like Rena's than Mion's sharp teasing.

Though, right then, he could definitely go for Mion's brand of cheering up. Not Satoko's though. Pranks weren't as effective when he wasn't mobile enough to trigger them. Though Rika's cuteness was always a refresher.

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Rika slept poorly that night, and woke in the morning with the nagging feeling that something had gone wrong. She couldn't think of what, though. There was no emergency meeting called, nor any frantic calls about missing friends or villagers. She called the Maebara residence and this time Keiichi's mother picked up and explained he was still sleeping, but she and their other friends were welcome to drop by after lunch.

Rika then called Mion and relayed that information. Mion called Rena afterwards.

But none of that explained the feeling that gnawed at her mind. Keiichi had not left Hinamizawa, and the next trip his parents took into the city left him behind in every world so she had nothing to worry about there. In any case, he would still be immobile then. Because you spilt that stuff on the steps, hoping he'd slip. And that was a stab of guilt she quickly brushed aside. A price she was happy to pay if it meant Keiichi would survive this year's festival – if they'd all survive it.

She couldn't afford to be complacent though. One change may alter the flow of fate, or it may not. Too often, it had not. Warning Nurse Takano and Dr Irie had never accomplished anything, after all. And that was another permanent fixture of these worlds. Their deaths, doomed to repeat alongside her own. If one of them had divine protection like Hanyu instead, perhaps she would have been the same side pawn killed over and over again…

It would end. If not in this world, then another one, soon. That was their power, after all. Their miracle. The hope that sent them into another possibility over and over, that kept her going far beyond her initial expiration date.

Perhaps the melancholy showed on her voice. Perhaps it was just the message from Mion she passed on to Satoko. Either way, Satoko swept her into a cooking frenzy after that, and the frenzy of her friends was always a good distraction.

Or, rather, almost always. Sometimes, it was the insanity that hinged on the level 5 Hinamizawa Syndrome. The insanity that hinged on impending deaths: others, their own, hers which would rewind the events once again and snatch away with it the identity of her killer, the oh so important piece of the puzzle… And if she didn't know, then Hanyu didn't know. And it was consistent in every timeline. Planned like that – except the one where she'd bled out in the Sonozaki's basement across from Satoko's dead body.

But Satoko was alive, humming to herself as she cooked and Rika carefully cut her vegetables, watching her fingers. She'd cut them often in the second world, and the third as well, before she'd learnt self-control once more. Her subconscious mind had learnt better by now, it seemed. Her fingers were blood free and Satoko was still humming by the stone, oblivious.

And, maybe, this time they could all stay that way. Safe. Oblivious. Passing into July of Showa 58 without knowing of the tragedy that had been averted, the tragedy she had so painstakingly avoided.

And maybe she was simply paranoid, and the world wouldn't just spin out of control again.

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Ichiro didn't expect to grow restless on a two day trip, and yet it was barely halfway through the first and he found his head foggy and wishing for the fresh air of Hinamizawa again. Or perhaps it was the absence of his family he was feeling (especially since Keiichi had been in a half-cast and in pain when he left). Even when he had his exhibitions, Aiko would be behind him, helping set things up and pack them away and making sure he still had three square meals a day. At least Keiichi could handle cooking instant ramen. Ichiro hadn't managed to ever acquire that still.

Still, he liked to think his son's way with words had come from him…for the most part.

Sometimes, he wished Keiichi had been more direct, more perceptive of his own feelings instead of others. But that was their failing too. And they'd chosen their new beginning together.

Maybe it was coming back to the city after that new start, when they were settling into their new groove, their new way of life.

Or maybe it was the heavy air that hung over the funeral, and the mourning family.

Either way, the city was no longer home, no longer the familiar monotonous comfort he could lose himself within. Instead, there was something uncomfortable, something that had grown in his mind as soon as he'd left Hinamizawa and had continued to grow until it was stifling now. Simple homesickness? Aiko would certainly find that amusing when he got around to telling her.

But there was at least a day before he'd see her again, and Keiichi. Keiichi with his broken kneecap, holed up on the couch and always easily bored.

Maybe it was parental guilt at play.

Maybe he shouldn't have come after all.

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The gang came by with lunch, though Aiko had already cooked and cooked extra in expecting them, so they made a party out of it. And a club meeting, because Mion could turn anything into an exciting game. This time, it was guessing who had made which onigiris – and the players were Satoko, Rena and Mion's grandmother.

Keiichi didn't think that was quite fair, since he'd never eaten Satoko's or Mion's grandmother's cooking before. Though Rena's shouldn't be that hard to pick out…right? Especially since he was immobile, leaving his brain free to distribute a little more attention to the rest of his body, including his tongue and the tastebuds they housed.

And it would be easiest to work that out before digging into his scrumptious lunch…right?

He picked up the one labelled A, and bit into it.

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Rika watched carefully. This was one of her markers – for Keiichi at least. She wasn't too clear on the details of how or why Mion's little onigiri tasting game had led to delusions of murder plots, but she couldn't and didn't expect rationality from someone who'd succumbed to level 5 Hinamizawa syndrome. It might be too early though. In the other timelines, Keiichi would still be in the city. In less than a day, there might have been nothing at all to see.

Still, it was a test and she wasn't about to just ignore it.

'So,' Satoko whispered. 'Do you think he can guess?'

Rika shrugged. She had no idea, because the onigiri guessing game only popped up when Keiichi skipped club activities, and this particular case aside, he'd only done that when suspicion had driven him away from them. And, of course, in that frame of mind, Keiichi was in no condition to make a guess.

Though she knew the answer. Satoko's were the bitter tasting ones. Rena's the overly sweet. And Mion's grandmother had made none. Rather, Mion herself had added a few with Tabasco sauce.

And, for some reason, Keiichi always began with the one lettered A. And that was always Mion's Tabasco sauce one.

But his face didn't reflect that at all. Rather, he hummed in contentment and declared: 'Rena.'

And Rena beamed. 'Did you like it? You liked it!'

And Keiichi was nodding happily, grabbing for D.

And then he coughed and swallowed it quickly down. 'What the hell? That's bitter.'

Satoko couldn't stifle her laughter at that one. Keiichi gulped down half a glass of water, then grinned. 'Satoko!'

Satoko stopped laughing and glared. Really, she'd let herself get caught with that one.

And that meant the ones that tasted different to the two he'd already had was Mion's grandmother's – or, rather, Mion's.

Except when he picked up F and tasted it and declared this was Mion's grandmother's – and a perfect onigiri if he'd ever tasted one – Mion was chuckling and nodding her head. 'Looks like we were too easy on you,' she grinned. 'So you escaped the penalty this time.'

'So who gets the penalty?' Keiichi asked curiously, with a grin wide enough to almost split his face. Sport activities were one thing, but he tended to be on the losing end of Mion's games with all the cheating they did.

Rika was quite taken aback that there'd been no cheating involved this time. Maybe she was feeling sympathetic. Or maybe Mion decided Tabasco sauce wouldn't be a good idea for a guy with a broken kneecap.

Beside her, Satoko moaned into her hands. 'How did that idiot guess them all on the first try?' She elbowed Rika. 'You didn't think he would either, did you?'

No, she hadn't. But she was glad because that was a perfectly normal onigiri guessing game. A perfectly normal club activity.

'Next time, Rika-chan should make one as well.'

'No way, Rika-chan can prepare ingredients fine but she can't cook a fancy dish to save her life. Why don't you make the onigiri next time?'

'Sure… but I doubt you'll be able to chew them.'

'How can you be that bad?'

Well, Rika thinks it's just as well cooking isn't a necessary skill to save her life. She can manage the basics well enough when Satoko's uncle comes for her, at least.

I need to stop worrying.

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He'd been a little worried about the onigiri, but the only prank had been Satoko's somewhat bitter ones. Still, they hadn't been inedible, and he had to colour himself impressed that she'd managed to make them delicious even with the very telling change. He didn't say as much to her, but he figured that managing to eat all four with only that first half glass of water was telling enough. And it wasn't that he needed the water to wash down the bitter taste. That was just strategy on his part, and he had proven it worked.

But who knew little Satoko could cook so well? He wondered why. Didn't her parents do the cooking for her? But he didn't ask. That might wind up rude – and, anyway, she might really like cooking. Nothing wrong with that at all. Probably better than being decent enough at it but doing it only as a necessary chore. He'd put his mother somewhere in between those two extremes, he decided. Her real passion lay with mystery novels.

Though right now, she was laughing with them and stealing an onigiri from the larger, unlabelled box the rest of them were sharing. All from Mion's grandmother, apparently. Rika and Satoko had brought rice and curry, and Rena a sweet looking cake (which Aiko quickly snatched away and put in the fridge for later), and his mother had made rice and soup and some fried fish. Plenty of food for all of them, and even leftovers to save the Maebaras the trouble of cooking dinner. And three final onigiri that Aiko sequestered away as well, saying Ichiro could enjoy them when he got back.

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Everything seemed fine. Moving smoothly. No cracks so far as she could see – but the first world had been like that as well. She hadn't noticed her impending death until Hanyu had swept her spirit away to her second chance, back to a January she'd already lived and that had turned out to be little different then the first. Sure, it was someone else who succumbed to the Hinamizawa syndrome, someone else who unintentionally tore themselves and their friends and family apart – and yet that was still removed from her, because she wound up dead the same way anyway.

But she'd learnt. Slowly, she learnt. Realised which points were causative, which were triggers, which ones were the same in every timeline and which ones were always different. Like how most of Mion's club activities were different – except the competition that had been so meticulously organised that they'd wind up in exactly the same seats every time.

Not this time though, she realised. Not Keiichi anyway. No way he'd be able to peddle downtown. Which would circumvent Shion's descent into madness as well.

Which only left Rena and Satoko, but there was no sign of that woman or that man and both of them had appeared before this weekend. And Mion, but she'd yet to learn what would trigger her fall into Hinamizawa syndrome. It hadn't happened yet.

It didn't occur to her to worry that Keiichi's father had still left, that it didn't have to be one of their club to descend into madness, that none of this would prevent Takano or Tomitake or Dr Irie from dying, and none of it would prevent her death.

But if her friends were all safe, she could have the time to try and protect herself, at least.

Because the alternative was to give up on them and she couldn't do that. Not yet.

'Can you say the same thing a hundred worlds later?' wondered Hanyu, behind her and invisible to the rest.

Who knows. Hopefully, it wouldn't take a hundred more worlds.