I know Rena is Like That for the bit, but I thought it might be nice to explore the what and why of she finds such weird things "cute."

June 17th, 2024

It was generally accepted that girls of a certain age were incredibly fond of cute things. That range included 13-year-olds with ease, but where Rena somewhat sharply deviated from the norm was how her definition of what was and was not "cute" was both eccentric and rather… broad.

This, she maintained, was not her fault. Most people simply defined cuteness by something small, or even just quirky –or maybe simplistically colorful, or perhaps with soft, rounded edges –or, if it was alive, very big and sweet eyes. Cute things were often childish, and childish things were often considered cute.

Rena defined cute as "anything that brought that same sudden, sharp rush of happiness" as what most cute things did –things that were popularly, properly considered cute, that is. Puppies, bunnies, ducklings, and the like.

It didn't matter if it didn't have rounded edges, or big limpid eyes, or bright, simple colors. What mattered was the… the spark, the sudden glint of glee that these things brought to her. The familiar surge of chaos in her life, the sense that many things might be possible, just around the corner, if this existed.

That was why she collected the things that she did. Maybe the dusty, dirty, broken-down old Colonel statue wasn't cute by most standards, but when she saw it, she'd felt her heart leap like a bird taking flight –they were so far from his chain of restaurants, so how had he come here, and why? What kind of strange, wonderful journey must that stoic statue face endured, and now he was here, peering at her out of the trash heap.

Obviously, she had to take him home. She rubbed him with soap and water and cleaned up the grime as best she could –but she didn't try to paint over the chips and dents, or replace the cracked lens in his glasses. That would take the magic, the memories, right out of him. Her Colonel statue was a wonderful memory –of that first happy jump in her heart when she first saw it, of digging together in the rubbish with Keiichi-kun and the others, of wheeling her new prize home through laughter and the slanting golden sunset in an old farm cart.

To polish the scuffs and fix up his old cracks would be to debase that memory, that happiness, that joy. Rena wouldn't do it, not if she was offered a million yen. It would take the very soul of the thing away.

She took her joy as she found it, and if she spent all her time polishing, trying to improve upon the already-whimsical happenings of her life in an effort to find cold perfection... she'd drain all the happiness away. It was more important to keep the memories, to simply have them. Trying to fix the unfixable would only make her miserable.

Her collection was meant to take away her misery, not increase it.

So Rena built up a small little junk-heap in her backyard –she tried to keep the messier stuff in her van, but some memories were simply too precious to leave way out there, even if they did lower the tone of the whole yard. On the quiet nights, the bad nights, she'd sometimes scuttle out here and curl up among her hoarded memories, pressing her hand to this or that treasure and trying to will the joy of that moment back into her.

See, the jewelry box she and Mi-chan found on their first hunt among the trash heap, Rena's welcome-back gift when she returned to Hinamizawa.

See, the bobble-headed clownish thing that Satoko had won at a booth during the festival –the first time she had beaten all of them in a game.

See, the tarnished locket Rika-chan had found with her foot amongst the pebbles in the river, still on its silver chain. Mi-chan had had them looking for buried treasure for weeks.

See, the mangled, rusty collection of rods and wires that was all that remained of the club's unified attempt to learn soldering.

All memories, all incomprehensibly precious. Other people might only see chipped, tatty, peeling junk stashed in the back corner of the Ryugu family's yard –trash best suited to a scrap heap– but to Rena's eyes, these things were cuter than the sweetest doll or the fluffiest kitten. They were her joy, her treasures.

They could not be replaced.

10.31 AM, USA Central Time