Rika's smile flickered, sharp and oddly proud. "I can make some for you. Keep you safe."
Michael blinked. "You can make—what, exactly? A 'don't-die-in-Hinamizawa' charm?"
Rika smirked as she spoke. "No, traps, like we have been taking about".
Michael froze, that nervous laugh bubbling up unbidden. "Oh. Oh. You mean, like actual traps."
Rika nodded brightly, like she'd just offered to bake him cookies. "Of course! You never know when someone might come for you. It's best to be ready."
He raised both hands slowly, as if trying not to startle a wild animal. "Rika, you realize that in most places, setting traps is considered… uh, illegal? Or at least highly concerning?"
Rika tilted her head, eyes glinting with that eerie calm of someone who's seen too much. "So is murder. But that doesn't stop anyone in Hinamizawa."
Michael just stared at her, lips parting slightly as he muttered, "...You say that with way too much experience."
Rika smiled serenely, clasping her hands behind her back. "I told you, I've looped a lot. You learn things."
Michael sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Remind me never to get on your bad side."
Rika giggled softly. "You'd have to die a few times first before I'd even consider that."
Michael blinked again. "…I'm not sure if that was a joke or a threat."
Rika smiled wider. "Yes."
Back in Rika's place, back in the basement, Michael looked around.
He thought about how this place was made and how it worked as he looked at Rika. "I don't get it, how can you make something like this, if the Loops always reset".
Rika stopped making the trap, as she spoke. "It's odd actually, I figured out after a few loops that, apparently anything I make in the previous loops, stays and continues to the next loop".
Michael crouched down beside the strange contraption she was working on — a blend of wire, wood, and what looked suspiciously like a bear trap. "So wait… you're telling me the universe just—what?—keeps your DIY death machines in storage every time it rewinds?"
Rika gave a small shrug without looking up. "Pretty much. I don't understand it either, but… I'm not complaining."
Michael blinked. "You're telling me there's like… five hundred versions of your traps scattered around this town?"
Rika's smile turned faintly mischievous. "More or less. If someone ever tried to map them all, they'd probably step on one."
Michael snorted. "Remind me never to go hiking here."
Rika finally looked up, eyes gleaming with that same mixture of innocence and menace she wore so naturally. "You'll be fine, Michael. I know where all the safe spots are."
"Comforting," he muttered, glancing around the dim basement. "So you're basically God here."
Rika tilted her head thoughtfully. "Hmm… not God. More like a ghost that never stops cleaning up after humanity's mess."
He grinned at that. "A very homicidal ghost with a knack for home defense."
Rika's lips curved in amusement. "And yet, you still came down here."
Michael shrugged, leaning casually against the wall. "Well, if I'm going to die horribly, might as well hang out with the cute psychopath while I can."
That earned him an honest laugh — light, musical, and just a little unhinged.
"Careful," she said sweetly, "flattery might get you tied up in one of the traps."
Michael smirked. "Depends on the kind of trap."
Rika blinked, then hid her small grin. "You're a very strange man, Michael."
"And you," he said, crossing his arms, "are terrifyingly adorable."
Michael's smile faded. The thought hit him harder than any of Rika's stories.
"I wonder if the same applies to me as well."
Rika froze.
Not just paused—froze. Her hands stopped mid-knot on the wire, fingers tightening slowly. The basement felt quieter somehow, like even the dust was listening.
"What do you mean?" she asked, voice careful.
Michael stared at his hands. "You said anything you build carries over between loops. Traps. Rooms. Preparations." He looked up at her, eyes darker now. "So what if… changes to people can carry over too?"
Rika's eyes narrowed slightly.
"You mean memories?" she asked.
Michael shook his head. "No. I mean damage."
The air went cold.
He tapped his temple once. "I won't forget. Not like the others. Every death, every mistake, every time I mess up—I will remember it all." His voice wavered, just a little. "So what if the cracks don't reset?"
Rika slowly stood up.
She walked toward him, her steps light but deliberate, stopping right in front of him. For a moment, she just looked at him—really looked. Not as an anomaly. Not as a piece on the board.
As a person.
"That's… possible," she admitted quietly. "I've seen people change across loops. Subtly. Fear comes faster. Anger lasts longer."
Michael let out a hollow laugh. "Great. So I'm not just stuck dying. I'm speedrunning insanity."
Rika frowned. "That isn't funny."
"I know," he said. "That's why I'm joking."
She hesitated, then reached out and took his sleeve—small fingers gripping the fabric of his jacket.
"If that's true," she said firmly, "then we account for it. Like everything else."
Michael blinked. "Account for it?"
Rika nodded, eyes sharp again, but not cruel. "We set limits. Rules. I watch you. You tell me when things feel… wrong." Her grip tightened. "If you start becoming someone you don't want to be, I stop you."
Michael studied her face. "And if I don't want to be stopped?"
Her gaze hardened, ancient and tired.
"Then I stop you anyway."
There was a long silence.
Then Michael exhaled slowly. "You know, for a shrine maiden, you're really intense."
Rika's expression softened just a bit. "For someone doomed by fate, you're surprisingly calm."
He smirked faintly. "I've met worse monsters than destiny."
Rika looked away, hiding a small, unreadable smile.
"…Then let's make sure you don't become one of them."
The trap behind her clicked softly into place.
The next morning came quietly.
Michael knelt behind his uncle's house, dirt under his fingernails as he carefully buried the last part of the trap Rika had given him. It was deceptively simple—wire, tension plates, a crude but effective trigger—but he knew better than to underestimate it. Rika never built anything without purpose.
"This spot," she'd told him, matter-of-fact. People always think the back is safer.
The back door sat unused, half-hidden by overgrown weeds. Makoto never left through it. Anyone else, though? Easy access.
Michael pressed the soil down, testing the ground with slow, deliberate pressure. Solid. Stable. The trigger would activate only with real weight, not a stray animal or a careless step.
Good.
He stood and brushed his hands on his pants, turning to leave—
Crunch.
Michael froze.
He looked down.
His foot had pressed into the earth a little too easily, like the ground had shifted beneath him.
"…What was that?" he muttered.
His heart picked up for half a second. He stepped back, eyes scanning the area, but nothing happened. No snap. No pull. No scream-inducing surprise.
He exhaled slowly.
"Probably just loose soil," he told himself.
Still… he memorized the spot before walking away.
---
Back in his room, Michael shut the door and leaned against it for a moment, grounding himself. No screaming shrine maidens. No cleavers. No sudden deaths.
So far, so good.
He crossed the room and pulled the blueprints from their hiding place, spreading them out across his desk. The Endoskeleton Prototype stared back at him—lines, measurements, notes written in Henry's precise handwriting.
Elegant. Cold. Efficient.
Michael traced one of the joints with his finger.
"This is insane," he murmured. "Why do I even understand half of this?"
Yet he did.
Not perfectly—but enough. Enough to see where parts could be simplified. Where materials could be substituted. Where something cruder might still function.
He swallowed.
"I can't build this," he said out loud, as if saying it would make it true. "Not here. Not now."
But the thought lingered.
What if you could?
His eyes flicked to the mirror.
The red 1 still hovered above his head.
Michael looked away first.
---
Somewhere else in Hinamizawa, Rika paused mid-step.
She felt it.
A faint shift. A tiny disturbance in the board.
Her eyes narrowed.
"…Something's changed," she whispered.
The loop continued.
To be continued.
Hope people like this ch and give me power stones and enjoy