Higurashi no naku Koro ni, Takano/(older)Rika, I thought I killed you (1 of 2)
It makes no sense, she thinks, but tonight she has the strangest feeling of deja vu. She has never been to this bar before--a filthy, effective place where nobody will recognize her, Okonogi's recommendation--and nobody is familiar to her. There is no reason to feel this way, and as a scientifically-minded woman she should know better. Takano sighs as if to clear the interior fog and reaches again for her glass.
And the path of her arm is interrupted by a soft hand, grabbing her wrist and pressing it down to the counter. Agitated, she glares at the person next to her, to tell them politely and exactly what they can do with their hand.
What she sees is beyond comprehension.
Three weeks ago, just after the Watanagashi, Takano had killed her with her own hands. She had slit her open and let her spill out on the ground and laughed (softly, softly, if anyone heard her that would be more work and nobody wanted that) as her eyes glazed over. There was no doubt as to what had occured. And this night all of her is as it was three weeks ago, healthy and sound but wrong--lengthened and widened as if by a funhouse mirror, or a torture device. She is wearing a green dress and looks to be in her late twenties, pretty and slim. She is holding Takano's hand.
"Come here often?" says the woman in a terribly familiar voice that is deeper and more tired than it ought to be, and all the same sets her mind reeling.
She hardly thinks as the woman leads her by the arm, bearing her down the hallway toward the restrooms; it is only the feeling of the woman's hands closing over hers that jolts Takano back to reality. Her eyes are running up and down her body, appraising her as though it has been years since last they met.
"You didn't dye your hair this time, Miyoko," she says approvingly. "I suppose what I say is finally carrying over. I used to be so jealous of that color."
"I thought--" Takano begins, and Rika smiles darkly, with her mouth only.
"Of course," she says, and it annoys her so much how she cuts her off when she has so many questions--why is she here, how does she know her name, why does she look this way, how is she alive at all--and not a chance to ask even one. "You did, Miyoko. Many times before, and many times to come."
How can she respond to this, Takano thinks? Even if she were inclined to, how does one properly apologize for disemboweling a child? It is irrelevant, of course; she did what she needed to do.
"You haven't much time either, Miyoko," lilts that smiling mouth. "They're coming for you too."
"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," she hisses, yanking her hands from Rika's. She wants to leave this place. She has to leave, but this woman has her backed against and wall and as she tries to move forward she pushes her back, pressing against her with the weight and strength of a fully grown adult. "Let me go," Takano says, trying to impress upon her the severity of her words, though there's little she could do to Rika that she hasn't already.
"How do you want to die?" she asks. Before Takano can even begin to answer, Rika begins speaking again, brushing a few stray hairs from her face. "Do you want the Yamainu to kill you, as they do every time? You are no longer useful to them. They will make it quick." The words are simple and the tone is flat, but Takano shivers nonetheless, and Rika looks pleased. There is more than truth resounding in her voice.
"Tell me my options," she says, her voice rough.
"You can stay here," whispers Rika, "and be gunned down once you leave the building, by any exit, by men who will never be identified or charged. You have died this way hundreds of times."
She grabs hold of Takano's hands once again, and this time she does not resist. As their fingers intertwine, Takano sees something genuine and frightening light up in her eyes, and she feels too-hot and reckless.