June 18th, 2024
Mamorou Akasaka's presence in Hinamizawa in 1978 was one of those things that only might happen –the chance, in fact, was not actually that high.
Rika had to assume, swinging her little four-year-old legs back and forth so that her sandals nearly slipped off her feet, that it was because his superiors only sent him here as an outside bet –Hinamizawa was an unlikely loose end that it was best to have some eyes on, so they might as well send the rookie with a pregnant wife. Safest place to put him.
She still came to wait for him, of course, in every fragment. That was why she was here right now, tucked in the rickety shelter of the bus stop, papered with a thousand old advertisements and, with the summer sun beating down, filling the air with the warm scent of wooden planks.
It was a hot day, but not unbearably so –just like always. The texture of the metal-grate bench beneath her sundress was cool and bumpy –just like always. The insects hummed and the cicadas buzzed from the distant trees –just like always. The road was deserted –just like always.
Rika swung her legs some more and sighed. Her parents were still alive, so even if she was the darling of the village, her very presence taken as some sort of auspicious good luck, she'd have some explaining to do for why she'd slipped off later.
Whatever. Her mother always overreacted about everything.
Akasaka, though. She could count on him. He was the only person with no possible ties to Hinamizawa whatsoever, the sole person she could trust to act without ulterior motives or biases.
Just because Rika couldn't understand the mystery she was mired in didn't mean she couldn't make some educated guesses. The curse was clearly perpetrated by someone in the village, someone familiar with the local legends. An outsider might know about the legends, but they'd stand out so incredibly keenly that they wouldn't be able to get anything done without a dozen people remarking on it. Keiichi always ran into that problem when he moved in –sometimes to great misunderstanding and sorrow.
And Rika had a unique ability to pick out outsiders. She'd relived each of the five years of the curse how many times, searched the crowd for anyone ominous or unfamiliar for how many festivals? She could practically walk through the whole thing blindfold.
The churning, rumbling sound of a bus engine grew louder in the distance. Rika closed her eyes and leaned against the wall in the corner where she was, feigning sleep in preparation for Akasaka to arrive.
She waited until it stopped, until she heard someone –large, adult– step off and land on the hard-packed gravel, until footsteps stopped in front of the bus stop near her. Rika opened her eyes and yawned cutely, watching Akasaka leap back and sputter apologies. She pasted a sweet smile on her face and forgave him.
A day later, she warned him to go back to Tokyo.
He didn't listen.
A night later, she warned him about the curse, asking him for help.
He didn't listen.
A few years later, Rika died.
Rika swung her little four-year-old legs back and forth, so that her sandals nearly slipped off her feet, and yawned.
It was a hot day, but not unbearably so –just like always. The texture of the metal-grate bench beneath her sundress was cool and bumpy –just like always. The insects hummed and the cicadas buzzed from the distant trees –just like always. The road was deserted –just like always.
She'd stayed up late last night, trying to think.
She could never manage to drive it though Akasaka's head that he needed to go back home. His presence here was useless in terms of solving the case, and it was going to get his wife killed.
The problem was, she could never figure out a way to tell him that. If she warned him obliquely, he didn't listen. If she told him to his face that his wife was going to die, he didn't believe her.
And if she didn't cut all the phone lines around and inside the clinic after he and Oishi got hurt fighting, he'd learn about his wife's death and be too distraught to even hear her when she asked for help.
It wasn't fair. If she was a grown up, if she looked even a fraction as old as she actually was, people wouldn't hesitate to believe her, or at least to check what she told them. She could prophesize someone's day step by step and they'd only blink and pat her head, telling her what an active imagination she had. Even after it came true, they'd only look at her oddly for a few weeks before their minds papered the incident over.
Rika sighed, but it was with an edge of gritted teeth.
This time, she'd ask for his phone number, then call the woman and lie. Oh yes, Akasaka-san is so brave, so cool! I'm the daughter of his landlord –no, no, hotel manager, he stayed in the hotel– and he said to call you if he didn't make it back from the store in time. Surprise! He says lots of love and he'll be back soon.
If anything, that should at least push her death back a couple days. She only went to the roof on days when she didn't hear from him; she'd be fine if she just stayed away.
The churning, rumbling sound of a bus engine grew louder in the distance. Rika closed her eyes and leaned against the wall in the corner where she was, feigning sleep in preparation for Akasaka to arrive.
She waited until it stopped, and she heard someone –large, adult– step off and land on the hard-packed gravel. She looked up and gave her cutest smile.
A day later, she called Akasaka's wife.
The woman was polite –and didn't listen.
A night later, she was dead.
Akasaka didn't listen, either.
And a few years later, Rika died.
It was a hot day, but not unbearably so –just like always. The texture of the metal-grate bench beneath her sundress was cool and bumpy –just like always. The insects hummed and the cicadas buzzed from the distant trees –just like always. The road was deserted –just like always.
Rika swung her little four-year-old legs back and forth, so that her sandals nearly slipped off her feet, and stared listlessly at her toes.
Another failure.
It wouldn't be so bad if she didn't have to repeat her whole life with each mistake –if she didn't have to crawl across five, six, seven years until she actually reached the problems she was trying to fix. Akasaka was a valuable ally if she could actually get him on her damn side, but she was still no nearer to actually solving the problem of being killed every June 1983.
She was just… killing time until the curse started up.
The churning, rumbling sound of a bus engine grew louder in the distance. Rika closed her eyes and leaned against the wall in the corner where she was, feigning sleep in preparation for Akasaka to arrive.
This time, the bus didn't come to a halt, instead wallowing past her stop in a haze of gritty dust and a cloud of gasoline fumes.
So… Akasaka wasn't coming to Hinamizawa in this fragment, then. He always took this bus and he always got off at this stop; it seemed that this time, she was alone.
Rika sighed and sadly opened her eyes, before sliding off the bench.
She began to trudge back home, to her mother's lectures and her own impatience.
A few years later, Rika died.
11.53 AM, USA Central Time