Hirata Keiko's Daily Life

"Shower? What's that? Hey dad what's that? Tell meeee." Her tiny hands clutched her father's ragged multicolored shirt. "It's this." He grunted as he pulled a rolled up magazine out a hole in the wall. "Laundry" it read on the first page and in the other was a strange silver box with a rounded mirror in the center.

Several pages ahead a "Shower" category appeared, "dad! Is this the shower you were talking about earlier?" It seemed completely otherworldly to Keiko, who'd rarely even seen freshwater. "There's so much clear water coming out of it!" She enthusiastically pointed to the faucet on the sink, an active showerhead and toilet bowl. "There's water just sitting down there, is it some sort of water tank?"

Her father chuckled, "you're asking too many questions too fast Hirata." Keiko suddenly snapped at him in frustration, "I want you to call me Keiko! Hirata sounds like a boys name, I don't like it." Her father was put aback by the sudden ferocity of his little girl. "I'm sorry, Keiko." Her lips widened into a glistening smile.

"I forgive you dad." He smiled back genuinely at his daughter, Hirata Keiko, the name was passed on to her from her late mother. "I always called your mom Keiko, I'm getting a bit confused haha... You look just like your mother did when she was younger Keiko." Keiko puffed out her head in pride. "Was mom as cute as me?"

"She sure was." He replied, glancing around the room before resting his gaze on a picture of him and the previous Hirata Keiko within a picture casing.

"It's about time you went to sleep Keiko, dad has some business to attend to." He patted her head gently, carefully and reluctantly. He sighed as he let his hand go, "hm?" Keiko grabbed his arm, her hands barely the diameter of his wrist. "Have fun at work dad." Her tiny and sweet voice pierced his heart. "I'll be back soon."

Stepping outside the tattered room, he proceeded down several flights of stairs and corridors. The landscape was a horrid sight. Smoke permeated most of the atmosphere, the smell of rotting flesh enveloped the whole city and the world nearly devoid of any color besides that of brown rust, yellow grease and orange rooftops.

He walked into a shabby building with boarded windows surrounded by dirty polluted water. A single man stood at his wooden desk, a rare thing to have in a place like the slums. "There's a man who's been doing a bit of sneaking around recently, we caught a hint of him at the barn. Bring him to me alive, Shichiro."

Shichiro bit his bottom lip in agony, "for my daughter." He whispered.

Back at home, Keiko hadn't fallen asleep. "Dad said he'd be back soon, it's ok for me to stay up a bit longer right?" She giggled to herself as she ran to the collection of plushies she got from her dad. "Ah!" She tripped over a plank that stuck out from the ground and examined herself, "everything's ok."

The floor board stayed up even when Keiko pushed down on it with all her might, "maybe there's something under it." She got a glimpse into the dark ground below and saw a book below it. She picked it up, the dust getting everywhere. "My eyes!" She ran out of the room to rub her face in the cloth on the sofa.

Going back to the room, most of the dust had cleared from the book. "Kagawa Shichiro and Hirata Keiko" was written on a piece of paper and taped onto the cover of the leather bound book. "Hirata Keiko? Me?" Excitedly she opened the first page but saw a strange woman.

"Is that Hirata Keiko? It's not me?" She felt sad for awhile before flipping to another page. The strange woman now held a newborn child. A few lines were written besides the picture. "August 16 2015, Tokyo."

"2015? Dad said it's 2023 now which means... This book is from 12 years ago!" She continued reading after quickly solving the problem. "Keiko had just given birth to our child, we hadn't decided on a name yet but I was anxious to hear what she had to say."

"It was an excruciating process for her I'm sure, all I could do that day was watch as it happened as I prayed. It's the same now as it was for that day, all I could do was stand there and watch as they slit her throat."

"I can't forgive myself for doing nothing, I should've died with her right there and then but... I still have a part of her with me, our child. I must protect what's left of her at any cost, I'm writing this to steel my resolve."

Keiko flipped through more pages and read, "August 21 2015, Tokyo." She looked closer at the obscured words, the book had more than enough time to become worn and battered. It's a wonder that it's readable at all. "They took us to a dark alleyway together, assaulted her and slit her throat right before my eyes. I will never forget this, not until I find the men responsible."

The writing began to worsen, as if the author was beginning to transform like the very words on the paper. "i'll mAke thEM pAy." The words had gaps in places and random strokes in others.

Scared, she dropped the book and ran to the couch. Keiko covered herself in a blanket and fell asleep.

Shichiro took a cautious step into a dark, seemingly abandoned building, armed with a knife and cloth. "The "rat" should be around here somewhere."