Chapter Text
September 4th, 1998
The autumn fog wrapped its suffocating grasp around the small harbor of Niijima. The ocean’s waves, which lapped at the long stretch of the beach like tongues, sounded ominous under the cover of the deep mist. It was early in that foggy morning, so most of the boats were docked in their ports, creating the appearance of a small legion of ships, ready to delve further into the misty blanket at any moment and completely disappear from sight. The blurry rays of the sun’s light peeked through the dense fog, acting as the guiding light for any poor sailors who had the earliest morning shifts.
One such poor soul was Sasagawa Taisuke [read 笹川 太亮]: A heavy, thin-mustached man with a near buzz-cut hairstyle hidden by a sailor’s hat, who was often at the end of his luck with his jobs. He was sent to trawl for fish where he knew the least amount of sea life gathered, he was always the last to get supply refills, and his boat (“Yumika,” he called her) always seemed latest to get repairs done (and even then, he’d be shit out of luck trying to negotiate the pricing). He loved the sea, but he had long since accepted that this was an unrequited love, largely after Yumika had nearly capsized and drowned him under the weight of his trawl full of sardines. Sasagawa had a long history of unrequited love, though, so that made his job all the more fun for him.
Still, his misfortune had won out once again, and he was assigned one of the earliest trawling duties for the 4th. Not so early that the sun wasn’t up, but not too late after. Sasagawa hated early mornings. He might have challenged the harbormaster to a kendo match if he had been assigned to a job before sunrise. But he knew some people woke up even earlier than this for their jobs, so he just sighed to himself and resigned to carry out the job.
Sasagawa was trailing along the Niijima beach towards his precious Yumika. He carried a large, orange trawl net in his hands (his last one had snapped because somehow a biting fish had made its way into the net and chewed away). He noticed another sound accompanying the gentle rocking of the waves—The wailing cries of the seagulls—the umineko. They were shrill and distinct, a chorus of mews and squawks and squeals. Sasagawa winced. Most people loved the sounds of seagulls, but for some reason, they annoyed Sasagawa to no end. It might have even been the worst part of his mornings at the harbor. He thought it sounded like the damned things were choking. Umineko, “sea-cats”... Where in the hell were those people getting their cats?! Sasagawa had a little bobtail cat himself, named Kenji, but he just made soft purrs and mewls… Well, maybe he’d occasionally growl for some extra food—Kenji was a little rotund, like his owner, but he’d never squawked or screamed like those damn birds!
Sasagawa’s shoes trudged through the soft sand, kicking up bits of seaweed and shattered shells and trash some of the sailors had carelessly left on the ground. He grumbled to himself, something about how inconsiderate some of his peers were. Then, something about how he hated seaweed. His love of the sea did not extend to every one of his inhabitants—He hated sharks, and jellyfish, and pufferfish most of all (he had never encountered them in the wild, but an incompetent chef had prepared some pufferfish poorly, and he was off-duty for a week from the food poisoning). If he was honest, aside from fish, Sasagawa largely preferred the animals of the land. He especially loved butterflies. He knew it simply wasn’t possible, but nothing would make Sasagawa happier than trawling out deep in the ocean aboard Yumika, Kenji by his side, as bright butterflies fluttered about the surface of the water… Preferably away from any seagulls.
Sasagawa finally made it to Yumika’s dock. He tossed the trawl into the boat, and also checked the whole boat over to make sure everything was in place. He was sure he had packed all his supplies, but there was one time he had left Yumika unattended, and some damn bird swooped down and stole his lunch for the day. He sustained himself off some chocolate biscuit snacks for that whole day. Once he was sure everything was in place, he started up Yumika, and gave a satisfied sigh as he prepared to start off into the foggy sea. He reached into his breast pocket for his small journal to note down the start of the day…
It wasn’t there.
Oh, damn it all, he had left it back in his car!
Sasagawa sighed again, this time out of frustration. If only Captain Kawabata was here. He probably would’ve reminded him to check for everything in his pockets, too. Kawabata and Sesagawa were great friends who had bonded over their previous job: Ferrying the Ushiromiya family to and from the island of Rokkenjima. But after an incident Sasagawa didn’t know too much about, that job was rendered useless, and eventually, Kawabata contracted a serious illness and had to go live with family.
Sasagawa pulled himself out of the boat, back onto the dock, and made his way back through the sands to his car. He wasn’t in a huge rush, but his fellow sailors might think he was slacking off if they arrived soon, so he made haste to get there.
But, as Sasagawa made his way across the Niijima beach, something in the corner of his vision caught his eye.
At first, he thought a small tugboat had suddenly appeared in the harbor’s waters. Or maybe some sort of raft? As Sasagawa turned his head to get a better look, he saw it was some sort of… mass in the water. It looked like a bunched-up, white tarp, with long, thick strands of blueish-black seaweed drifting from it, and a few things that looked like… pouches also attached to the tarp?
Sasagawa squinted his brown, aged eyes, moving closer to the beach’s edges to make out what it was. Then, his eyes shot way open, wrinkles sprouting on his forehead. There were two things poking out of the tarp:
Two hands.
And that seaweed… no, it wasn't seaweed at all. It was hair! Hair attached to a head!
Sasagawa’s mouth fell open, letting out an exasperated, choking sound. It was… That thing out there was a body! But was it alive, or dead? Did he even want to know? He could try and rescue this person, sure, but… If they really were dead, it might cause all sorts of problems. Knowing Sasagawa’s luck, he might somehow get accused of murder. He was the only witness—Anyone who had an earlier shift than he had already set sail. Even then, was Sasagawa even prepared to witness death so directly? Wouldn’t it just be better to either hope that they were alive and would eventually swim to shore, or if they were a corpse, just resign to let it float into the oblivion of the ocean?
A splendid little cat-box, all for you, Sasagawa.
The waves, before gentle and calming, almost like a lullaby, suddenly became loud, rough, and rapid, as if the sea itself was growing angry.
Sasagawa grit his teeth. What was he thinking?! Now, without a second thought, Sasagawa rushed towards the beach’s edge, before leaping into the water. His clothes were instantly soaked, but with all his misfortune in the past, a wet outfit was hardly of concern right now. He swam with all his might, propelling himself through the furious waves which roiled and crashed all around him, plunging him under the water before letting the back of his head and shoulders peek above the waters once again. Sasagawa wasn’t in the optimal physique to be using such quick strokes and fast-kicking legs, but he just kept clenching his teeth and powered through it. Even if this person was dead, he wanted to know it for himself. He’d break the news to authorities, and he’d be known as the person’s last witness.
Before long, he felt something brush up against his head, he felt around for it, and grabbed at the strand of seaweed—no, the hair! Sasagawa righted himself, grabbing onto the person, and quickly wrapping the drifting bags around them so the items wouldn’t be lost—if she was dead, they could be vital evidence to discovering what happened. Sasagawa caught a brief glimpse of their face. It was a woman, likely in her late 20’s, but before he could discern anything else, Sasagawa wrapped his arms around her, and started rocketing his legs to propel them back to shore. Sasagawa listened carefully to see if he could catch any groans or noises of protest from the woman, or even hints of breathing, but the splashing of water and pounding of the waves drowned it out, if there really was any.
Before long, Sasagawa felt his back sink into the wet sands of the shore. He stood up, picking the woman up with him, before sprinting further down the beach to set her into the sand. He knelt down, putting his ear by her mouth to see if she was breathing. Nothing.
“Damn it!” Sasagawa swore under his breath. Then, he grabbed her dainty wrist, placing his fingers to check her pulse. It was slow, but it was there. He had confirmed the woman’s status: She was alive, but barely. She wasn’t safe yet. And now, if she died, it would be blood on Sasagawa’s hands.
Sasagawa placed his hands onto her chest, one on top of the other, and began steady, rhythmic pulses of pushing up and down. His compressions were forceful, and after several of them, the girl let out a choked gurgle, spewing water out of her mouth with a wheeze. He kept pushing. She gagged, and another gout of water burst from her throat. He went on and on, with what almost seemed like gallons of water draining from the poor woman’s body and into the dry sand.
Eventually, the woman’s hand reached up, and slapped Sasagawa’s arm, as she let out coughs and clear wheezes.
“Ah-Ah’m-” She tried to speak, but it sounded more like a dying rat than proper speech as she forced more coughs out.
“Huh?” Sasagawa replied.
“Y-You can stahp, Ah’m… Ah’m fine.” The woman managed to get out. Her speech was slurred, and while her voice was mature and a little deep, it still had a distinct, girlish tone to it.
Sasagawa stopped his pulses, looking at the woman’s face as her eyelids fluttered open, revealing irises of sapphire blue. Her expression was docile, though hinted at signs of relief. She looked into Sasagawa’s eyes, studying him. Analyzing him. Gathering all the insight they could within those few precious seconds.
“Who… are you…?” She managed to choose some words she wouldn’t slur.
“Just a sailorman. I don’t think much more info will do you good. We should get you to a hospital.”
She shook her head. “N-No, Ah’m… I’m fine. I haven’t been adrift out there for very long.” She regained her speech quickly. She sounded more formal, almost pompous.
“Strong one, aren’t ya’, then? Well then, Sasagawa Taisuke’s the name. I was about to head out to sea for fishing, but, wouldn’t you know it, I forgot my pocket journal in my damn car. Seems my stupid mistake was your luck, though. Saw you as I was walking down the beach. Tried to make sure you had all your bags, but I don’t know if you lost any before I saw you.” He unraveled a few of the bags from her waist. “Say, can I get a name from you, miss?”
Her eyes slowly moved around, now analyzing her surroundings. The edges of the sand, the thin sunbeams, the dense fog drifting about. She pursed her lips. “What is the date, Sasagawa-san?” She said, ignoring his question.
Sasagawa gave a brief pause, but responded: “September 4th.”
She nodded assuredly. “But, the year?”
Sasagawa tilted his head. “Do you have amnesia, miss?” This made worry shoot up his spine. Had her nearly drowning caused brain damage?
She shook her head, with a gentle smile. “Not at all. But I’ve been without a calendar for quite some time, you see.”
Peculiar, but Sasagawa gave a nod. “Heisei 10.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “Ah, forgive another strange question, but… I was not aware that the Showa Era had ended. Just tell me the Gregorian year.”
What was with this woman? She really must have brain damage… Sasagawa would need to get her a hospital soon after this, but still, he clarified:
“1998.”
Her small smile slowly grew into an odd grin. Suddenly, she was on her feet, and with a little bounce, she was standing fully upright. Her black hair, tinged with fragments of blue dye, was a wild mess of two sets of pigtails (a pair of front tails, and a pair of longer twin tails), stained by seawater and sand. Her thin, brown tarp was also dusted with sand. Her skin had bruises and cuts and scars running all along them, and yet, she still seemed somehow noble and pure. She quickly checked her bags, which were seemingly waterproof—Sasagawa could see a fancy girl’s dress in one of them, and a set of bottles with scraps of paper in them in another. Once she was satisfied, she cleared her throat, and spun around dramatically. Sasagawa gawked, seeing that her face had suddenly taken on a wide, beaming smirk. The woman did a mock curtsy with her filthy tarp garment, which she somehow made look like a princess’s outfit, before speaking loud and clear.
“I am the detective.” She proclaimed. “A lady of truth, if you will. I have been ‘missing’ for 12 years. I am the ‘18th person.’ Above all else—” She closed her eyes for a moment, before they shot open, and her face twisted in a deep, immaculate sneer.
“I am Furudo.” She stated plainly, “Furudo Erika!”