Chapter Text
To the witch’s great dismay, the first thing she noticed was the chirping of the summer cicadas.
Tzi tzi tzi, tzi tzi tzi.
It wasn’t a sound she considered pleasant. If she were still human, her face could have ranged anywhere from reluctant nostalgia to disgust. But she was a one thousand year old witch now. Far more would be needed for her to display those emotions, even a little.
The second thing she noticed was the bright summer light searing her eyes upon opening them. After blinking away the pain, she took stock of her surroundings. She was standing on the side of a small street, stores lining the sides. Japanese letters plastered their windows and doors. It was a small looking town, but it wasn't too rural. Recognition didn't come to her as fast as the sounds of the cicadas did, but it was a town she once knew well.
Okinomiya, a small town in Shishibone City. In her youth, before becoming a witch, she had spent plenty of time here. But more importantly, it was a short trip away from the village of Hinamizawa, where she used to live and die, over and over, for one hundred years.
This was enough to make her eye twitch, if she was not otherwise stone-faced.
The third thing she noticed was that she didn’t know why she was here. There was now an unmistakable frown on her face. Despite racking her recent memories, she couldn’t recall anything that would explain it. She had spent more than enough years trapped in this miserable cage. After being freed, she had fled for the endless Sea of Fragments, where she'd been able to forget the hell she had lived through. She seriously doubted that she would have ever returned here out of her free will.
Tzi tzi tzi, tzi tzi tzi.
Had she grown so old that her memories were beginning to fail? She dismissed that possibility immediately. While it wouldn’t be unheard of for a witch who had lived too long to require the help of a memory device, she was still young by the standards of witches. Young enough, anyways. But the thought guided her down the right path. If it wasn’t her own doing and if she wasn’t too old to become forgetful, then it had to have been someone else. Someone who was both very old and very powerful. The witch could count the number of beings who fit the criteria on one hand. Actually, she only needed one finger.
Featherine Augustus Aurora: the Theatergoer and the witch's former master. No one else was powerful enough and, more importantly, fearless enough to attempt it. If anyone other than her had so much as suggested that the witch return, they would have sorely regretted it. Assuming there was even enough left of them afterwards capable of feeling regret.
Of course… only she could be enough of a hack to throw me into a situation without any context. Auaurora, what kind of game are you trying to play here? the witch complained to herself. Normally, she enjoyed games. More than that, it was her lifeline. If she wasn’t actively amusing herself, the greatest evil imaginable would show its miserable face: boredom. That suffocating feeling of stagnation. That urge that made one look inward and wonder where their life had gone wrong. It was an evil that nothing else could compare with.
But this time, whatever Featherine had planned, the witch wanted nothing to do with it. Not here. Not then. Not now. Not ever. She had decided to leave this game board behind long ago and nothing would ever change that.
She willed herself out of this Fragment. She knew it would displease her old master, but she’d make it up to her later with a better game. One that didn’t make her want to hurl. She closed her eyes, knowing that when she opened them again, she’d see the infinite crystalline shards floating in the purple of the Sea.
Tzi tzi tzi, tzi tzi tzi.
The buzzing of bugs and the feeling of roasting in the heat told her that she had not gone anywhere. Her eyes, already shut, squeezed tighter. Maybe if she put more power into it, everything that was annoying her would disappear.
The bugs continued singing and the sun continued burning, no matter how hard she squeezed her eyes shut. Her eyelids screamed in pain, begging her to face reality. She acquiesced, and was dismayed to still see the same town in front of her. There was only one conclusion to draw.
I… I’m trapped? Here!? Panic crept over her as events and people she had jailed in the deepest parts of her memories clawed their way back. Calm down! Of course she would make it so I couldn’t leave, but that doesn’t mean anything! I’m trapped, not powerless! I am a witch! Reminding herself of what she was capable of now, the demons were shoved back down where they belonged. After taking a deep breath, she considered her position.
If that all-powerful sluggard had truly thrown the witch in here, then she must have seen some great source of amusement by doing so. But there didn't appear to be anything interesting here, save for the witch’s annoyance. For Featherine, who was no stranger to seeing her former miko in a bad mood, much more was needed to make this worth her time.
Tzi tzi tzi, tzi tzi tzi.
Given that the witch's specialty was cruelty, was Featherine interested in seeing how she would inflict it upon this town, this fragment? Was it a test? Or was there something else? Could anything else even exist? No, she was overthinking. It had to be a test.
It’s true that back when I played with the Hinamizawa fragments, I used a light touch. Was I too attached to my old life? In her earliest days as a voyager, she found novelty in moving a few pieces around or, even in a couple of cases, granting “miracles.” Since there had been people who she was personally attached to, she had avoided being too harsh on them. By the time she had left for good, she had not yet thrown those trappings away. But now, the novelty was long gone and such leniency no longer suited her.
Maybe that was what intrigued Featherine. As a sign of growth, or maybe just because of simple sick curiosity, the witch needed to show off exactly how much she had learned since then. After all, there were plenty of people on this board who had wronged her and not once ever paid the appropriate indemnities. There was opportunity here after all. The Witch of Miracles had a hard time forgetting unresolved grudges. Perhaps after this, she would be able to sleep a little easier at night.
As her rage continued to stir, the witch allowed it to rise again, but under a leash. As long as she pointed it in the right direction, it could never hurt her again.
How desperate of you, Auaurora. Did you think I’d break down at being back here? Did you hope I would agonize over the inhabitants of this game? Sorry to disappoint, but I’ll happily tear through everyone like a piece of paper. And I’ll be long finished before you even have a chance to enjoy watching it.
With that declaration, she moved her attention elsewhere, to an unfamiliar feeling in her legs. The witch couldn't tell what it was, but she did not like it one bit. As she raised one leg to take a look at it, the feeling subsided in it. The other leg, now supporting her whole body, felt it more.
She put the lifted leg down and raised the other one, feeling the sensations swap locations. After several seconds, she finally recognized what it was. My feet hurt.
While witches could feel pain, it usually involved something stronger than standing still. Such as magical attacks from another witch or a good punch to the face.
It must be this rough sidewalk. It's not like me to spend this much time on my feet… but this is already unusual enough as is. While not a given for all witches, this one in particular tended to float instead of walking. She decided that this was a good time to do just that and willed herself into the air, levitating being as natural to her as swimming was to a fish. Which is why she was unpleasantly surprised when nothing happened.
Tzi tzi tzi, tzi tzi tzi.
Annoyed, she tried again. Nothing.
Tzi tzi tzi, tzi tzi tzi.
And again. Nothing.
Tzi tzi tzi, tzi tzi tzi.
Her expression twisted into a blatant snarl. Why isn’t this working!? Maybe it’s only flight that doesn’t work?
Tzi tzi tzi, tzi tzi tzi.
She tried to teleport to the other side of the street. She didn't.
Tzi tzi tzi, tzi tzi tzi.
She tried to summon her scythe. She couldn't.
Tzi tzi tzi, tzi tzi tzi.
Desperately, she tried once more to flee into the Sea of Fragments. But the hot sun kept beating down on her.
Tzi tzi tzi, tzi tzi tzi.
She did the one thing still in her power to do.
“Shut up, you stupid, obnoxious pests!” Frederica Bernkastel’s voice echoed through the street, seething rage bouncing off the walls of the stores.
Tzi tzi tzi, tzi tzi tzi.
But that also failed. The cicadas chirped away, mocking her ineptitude with every chittering screech.