Artisan
Chapter 7

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Keiichi and Aiko were gone, and the house was empty except for the basement. Ichiro was down there again, painting. Silence settled on his shoulders, in way it hadn't for a while at least. There was no Keiichi clattering about with his crutches, or Aiko with a duster or cutlery.

And there were no ghostly footsteps drawing his gaze either. Keiichi and Aiko were at the festival, far far far away. Maybe it was one of them walking about at night and disturbing his rest after all. Sometimes Aiko seemed to be in bed. Sometimes she didn't. Sometimes she was waiting for him. And whenever he went downstairs, Keiichi would wake up and stare at him. One of them or both of them or none of them – and a third party then or a figment of his own imagination? Too many possibilities and the first ones were the most likely, because who else should footsteps in a house be attributed to except its occupants?

And they were busy with the festival. Gone, and they'd be gone for a while. The house was silent. Peaceful – peaceful but incriminating. Lending weight to the theory that it was one of them –

And how easy it would be to simply ask and put his worries to rest. But something stayed his tongue. They could lie. They could. They could also be sleepwalking, or something. Or have forgotten about it, half-asleep. Keiichi hadn't once asked why he got up almost every night and he saw him from the couch. Not for the last couple of nights though. Back into the bedroom. On a different sort of cast: the sort that let him put enough weight on his bad leg to get him up and down the stairs.

But he still got the feeling watched, all the way to the kitchen and back.

Though not now. Not now when he was the only one in the house and knew he would be for quite some time, when he couldn't mistake the footsteps for someone else because no native of Hinamizawa would miss the Watanagushi festival and there were far too few outsiders like him. The doctor and the nurse were two but the nurse was interested in that sort of thing. How many times had Aiko chatted about her? Often enough to make him wish he'd found a connection in this town like that, or like Keiichi and his friends.

But there were only his paintings, rapidly gaining life under his fingertips, sequestered away in the basement and waiting, just waiting, for those footsteps to start up again.

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Rika danced on the stage. As with the more recent incarnations, her mind drifted elsewhere, out to the crowd. There was Satoko, and Rena and Mion and Keiichi. And Mion's parents a little way behind. And Keiichi's mother almost hovering over her son. Why do that?

But she had seen more than enough of the curse to be able to guess. It didn't affect just one person, after all. The effects rippled upward and outward: family, friends, people as a whole. Just look at poor Satoko, after all.

Not even Satoko knew the truth of that. Not Mion nor Shion either, though Rika had asked specifically for that boon, knowing how close they could become. Few people did know the entire tale. Sonozaki Oryou. Her daughter and son in law - for they were the ones who arranged the cover-ups. Always them who did the cover-ups, so always them who knew the truth. And yet Rika always did know more than them and it wasn't because of any precognitive power she claimed to possess.

She had no precognitive power. It was simply the experience of multiple timelines that shaped her, rippling forward - and rippling back as well. Asakawa Mamoru was a prime example of that. How she remembered him slightly differently in each timeline. How, in those timelines where her warnings were not heeded and she knew she was wasting her time with the second round, would tell him of all the deaths that would follow in the hopes that, by hers at least, he would step in to play on her team and help.

He appeared in Hinamizawa sometimes. Usually too late to do anything. He hadn't in this world though. Not on the Watanagushi festival and so he wouldn't appear after that. Unless he showed up after her death. In a world that didn't exist for her anymore - because how could she see the future of a world she no longer existed in. But it's not like I abandon them… Rather, the worlds abandon her. Fail to provide her with the answers to win this game, to survive past the June of Showa 58.

She continued to move. An unsatisfying dance after the first: too slow and cumbersome and carrying that heavy hoe throughout it all. Dancing towards the end: the end of the Watanagushi festival, the end of this year's curse, the end of her own life and the end of this incarnation of the world…

Hanyu bore witness, as she was fated to do. And Rika danced, in that seemingly never-ending battle with her own destiny.

I thought I'd won.

Maybe, just maybe, she still had.

Or maybe Hanyu was right.

At least she had a new piece of information for the next world. Two new pieces of information. That it didn't have to be one of her friends directly in which the parasite reared its ugly head, and that the Yamainu existed - and that their capacity was to save Takano and Rika herself...or not.

Their enemy was, after all, human and not a God.

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Takano was smiling as she left the festival. Tomitake watched her closely. Wondering no doubt why she was in such a preppy mood with the threat of death hanging over her. But he wasn't very worried himself. The both of them were taking their prophylactic shots after all - or so he thought.

I'm sorry Jiro, she hummed to herself. I really do like you, you know?

Tomitake continued to stare, seeing but not seeing the truth. She'd planned it all too carefully. They walked until they reached his bike and her car. Walked until there was nobody else in sight.

She smiled more widely. 'Jiro…'

He turned to face her fully.

She wondered what he was thinking, in that mind of his. Not as clever as Irie Kyousuke but Irie Kyousuke was so irritating sometimes, with his morals. Halting progress for the chance to alleviate somebody's suffering. Not what the world wanted. Not what she wanted. Who cared if Hinamizawa Syndrome could unearth its own cure after all these years? It would always be the swamp of the demons, the cursed place where God had and would again come down to touch the earth.

Did he wish to be the healing patron God? Those were the Gods that were forgotten. The cursed ones were the ones that were revered: the ones that brought destruction, that showed power. Healing had no power except to increase the masses, increase the variables, increase the chaos. But then again, Irie Kyousuke was so terribly human.

'Jiro... ' she repeated, her voice low but not pleading. Not pleading. She liked him, yes, but she could do without him. According to the little priestess, she would do without him. And she would win as well. Silly princess, delivering the prophecy of her own death to her future murderer. Not too much in the future. The time had only come. But first…

Okonogi appeared from the shadows. Jiro turned. Sharp, Jiro. But it didn't matter. Okonogi was faster. Better positioned. Better served. And more informed as well. Poor Jiro was in the same category as Doctor Irie, thinking they worked towards a cure, thinking they worked towards the better of the world.

Sometimes, she wondered why she liked one so and hated the other.

Not that it really mattered, when she was so close to ascending the throne.

Tomitake Jiro fell, a light thump against his bike before Okonogi hailed two men to bind him tight and carry him into her boot and lock him there. She hefted her bike into the back seat herself. Started the ignition, and waved the others off. They went to the clinic. Ready for the next part of their plan.

Okonogi remained. 'Did you want a ride?' asked Takano, amused.

'Some indulgence,' said the other man with a smile that would have chilled any less hardened woman than her. 'Why not take the girl?'

'Before the biggest event of the festival?' she laughed. 'Now that would have been a problem, don't you think? The entire village combing the land for their precious princess?'

'And that's all?' His voice held no surprise. Rationale was one thing. Reasons, sometimes, were another.

Takano shrugged. 'She was amusing,' she said. 'And it's a common thing between adults and children: to give hope only to snatch it away again. Perhaps it's a little payback towards God. At least until I supplant him.'

'Amusing,' the man repeated, before his lips curled into a more curved smile. 'I'll head to the mountains then.'

'You do that,' she agreed. 'And the next time I'll see you, I'll be dead. Isn't that an amusing thought as well?

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The dance ended. The people spread out and set off home. Keiichi and Aiko walked slowly and Rena with them.

When they came closer to the Maebara house, they saw it dark. 'Ichiro must be asleep,' said Aiko, but it didn't sound as though she believed it.

'He missed the festival.' Rena's lips were in a pout, but her eyes were dark as she stared at the house, quiet and unwaiting. 'Rena should have remembered to get extras.'

'We got a few.' Keiichi grinned at her. 'Would've been better if we could convince him to go, but -'

'But your father was inspired,' Aiko interrupted, causing both teenagers to glance at her in some surprise. 'You know how he gets when he's like that.'

'Yeah…' Keiichi frowned a little. 'It was a shame though. I'm sure the Watanagushi festival would've inspired him more. And Rika in that cute shrine maiden outfit? Priceless.'

Rena laughed, relaxing. 'Rena wanted to take her home, but Mion kept her too far away.'

'Probably with good reason.'

Aiko watched the pair, poking at each other and smiling and laughing and the crutches were just an accidental prop they had to bear with. The dark circles under his eyes were another matter though. And even if he didn't remember, waking up in the middle of dreams and sinking back into them, she did. Knew when her husband got out of bed and paced restlessly, downstairs and up and then came back to bed again. Knew when her husband stared at her to make sure she was there, in bed with him - or sometimes as though she wasn't there at all. And how tense he'd gotten, sometimes. Flinching when she moved around, when Keiichi moved around. He'd noticed. She was sure he'd noticed. But he must have put it down to something reasonable in his mind as well.

Maybe she'd find out what without having to ask.

''tou-san seems stressed recently. Maybe he misses the city.'

'Keiichi's 'tou-san must paint beautiful paintings.'

'That's relative.' Keiichi laughed. 'Depends on his mood. When he's angry, watch out. But when he's happy, they're the most beautiful things you've ever seen.'

'Breathtaking no matter what the mood,' Aiko agreed, 'but breathtaking in different ways. Painfully honest as well.'

'Yeah.' Keiichi agreed. 'You saw the one he was walking on.'

'Yes,' Rena said. 'The footsteps in the shadows. The manifestation of Oyashiro's curse.'

'My fault,' said Aiko. 'Takano-san has been telling me about the legends of Hinamizawa. It was so fascinating that I couldn't help but babble about it all to him, and I've managed to influence his -'

'Footsteps,' Rena repeated. 'And voices repeating the same thing over and over. And the need to return, the need to remain here, trapped, forever. And the things crawling under skin. The need to escape. Not escape -'

'Rena?' Keiichi asked. His eyes were a little wide and he'd stopped walking. So had Aiko. Only Rena continued, a few steps in front until Keiichi's voice called her back. 'Are you okay?'

She smiled at him, looking painfully normal again. 'Of course, Keiichi,' she said. 'But footsteps in the shadows are a frightening thing, you know?'

'I haven't taken a good look at the painting,' Keiichi mumbled, sounding uncomfortable. 'I'm sorry Rena, if it -'

She waved a hand. 'I'm fine,' she said. 'I came back. Keiichi's 'tou-san came back as well, so he should be okay too. As long as he comes back. As long as he stays. As long as he doesn't think of abandoning this place.'

'What do you mean?' whispered Aiko.

'Did Takano-san not say?' Rena's voice had gone dark and serious again. 'The curse makes sure no-one in Hinamizawa ever leaves.'

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Ichiro wasn't asleep. He was still painting, in the basement. Aiko sent Keiichi upstairs, and then tried to do the same to him. He simply mumbled at her to go away.

'Come up,' she pleaded. 'Come to bed.'

Her words echoed in his ears, again and again and again until he covered them with both hands.

And then she had no choice but to leave him there with the weak swinging light as his only company. Because she was frightened. Frightened of Ichiro who hadn't listened. Frightened of Rena who he'd listened to.

And frightened of all that black and brown and red on the canvas, and the smell of paint that dove through her nostrils and into her skull.

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Rika woke up in the morning, and the first thing she did was ring the clinic. Pretended she wasn't feeling well but it wasn't too serious and they didn't need to disturb the good doctor but if she could just talk to Nurse Takano -

And was told that Nurse Takano had not signed in that morning.

It would take at least till that afternoon, she knew, before their deaths would be confirmed: Tomitake's and Takano's. But that was her confirmation until then.

And then at school, the police came. Ooishi, never Akasaka. Pulled out Mion, then Rika. Didn't bother with the others, thankfully. In some worlds he did. It usually meant he'd been an unwitting player in the curse.

Not this world. Not that it really mattered if Tomitake and Takano were still dead. The man tried. He simply didn't have the resources to solve the riddle. Not in her lifetime anyway. Maybe not even in his.

Tomitake and Takano were definitely dead. This confirmed it, and the meeting of the three great families that followed was just a formality.

And no-one claimed responsibility. Though they did say the look on the ritual tool shrine had been broken during the festival. When she was on stage, presumably. Just before in reality. It didn't matter to her if their names were dragged through the mud at this point. Her warnings had been for naught. The new extra players in the Yamainu had been for naught as well. Just what is the enemy?

Her death was fast approaching. And not only hers. The parasite flowering inside Maebara Ichiro's mind would soon reach full bloom as well.

But she had little more time to spare for her friend.

Or, rather, she had all the time left in this world to spare, because nothing ever happened in that day or two or three or five that followed the Watanagushi festival, except the wait for her now inevitable demise.