A shrine in the middle of the forest with a temple attached. Not unheard of, although it was increasingly rare in modern times. Something about the mixing of death with Shinto beliefs of cleanliness that many people didn’t like. The original temple, which remained nameless in the documents, was built on what the locals called a “power spot.” An area of the forest they went to in order to pray and receive energy. These also weren’t uncommon, although I didn’t place much faith in them. A power spot, a temple and a shrine. It was like the start of a bad joke.
I put the files back and returned with the pile of newspapers going all the way back to the early 1980s. It didn’t take long to find what I was looking for: September 1986. Only two years after construction was completed there was an article about the decline of the shrine.
Kurohana Shrine, once the pride of Shirotama Village and the figurehead of their tourism campaigns, has officially been closed. Officials gave no reason as to why the shrine was closed, but locals have suggested the difficulty in reaching the shrine played a part.
“It’s one thing to travel deep into the forest for a power spot, you know?” one man answered our reporters. “That’s the type of thing you do maybe once a year, but to visit a shrine? I don’t know what they were thinking.”
“I tried to visit the shrine as often as I could when it first opened,” another woman said. “But in the end, it was too difficult to get there. I had to drive to the station, take the train, and then hike through a kilometre of forest just to reach it. I heard they’ll be finishing another new shrine inside the village soon. I’ll just go there instead.”
When The Shirotama Times asked officials what was to happen with the graveyard attached to the temple behind the shrine, one source who wished to remain anonymous said, “Nothing. The graves were there before the shrine and so they will remain there after.”
Power spot. Temple. Shrine. Graveyard. The shrine was built to take advantage of the popularity of the power spot, but within a few short years the government realised the difficulty in reaching the shrine made it unpopular, and thus it was abandoned. Now there was news of a graveyard attached to the temple as well. Things were getting better and better.
I flicked through the rest of the newspapers, but there was little mention of Kurohana Shrine again. It sprung to life almost instantaneously and died again just as fast. An article from 1989 caught my attention, however, and I shoved it under the light.
Local Woman Goes Missing
A young woman, native to Shirotama Village and a former shrine maiden for the now-abandoned Kurohana Shrine, has gone missing. Police are looking for any clues as to her whereabouts.
“We were alerted to the woman’s disappearance on the morning of the fourteenth. According to the woman’s husband, after Kurohana Shrine closed down she continued to visit the graveyard by the attached temple to pay her respects to the dead. She has been doing so weekly, without fail, since the shrine closed down and she left to return to civilian life.”
I grabbed more papers, scanning them for any news of the shrine maiden. This was it. I could hear the chimes ringing in the forest as though they were right behind me once more. This shrine maiden had something to do with the disappearances, I just had to figure out why. Adrenaline pushed me through, my eyes scanning over the text faster than I’d ever read before. I threw papers on the ground, my eyes trained for one thing, and one thing only.
I finally found it. Several months after the announcement of the shrine maiden’s disappearance, there was a brief notice in the back of the paper.
A ceremony was held for the missing maiden of Kurohana Shrine. No body was recovered, but at her family’s behest, a private ceremony was held in the family home. Those wishing to leave their condolences can visit the community hall during the next week to say their goodbyes.
They never found her body. She was angry. Perhaps something happened to her out there in the forest; perhaps not a drunk tanuki, but a stalker or a murderer while she was tending to the graves. Perhaps she was in the wrong place at the wrong time and bumped into a grave robber. Or perhaps she was injured and, so far from help, died of her wounds all alone, cold and in pain.
I put the papers away and checked that I had everything in my notes. The picture was already forming in my mind and I knew what I needed to do. I didn’t want to, not after last time, but it had to be done. The shrine maiden wanted to be laid to rest. She was calling people to her; I didn’t know how, but maybe they were related to the people buried in the graves. I didn’t know. It didn’t matter. She was calling them and, in her rage, keeping them there. She needed help, and Sayumi must have realised that. That was why she told me not to follow her. How stupid I was. She didn’t want me tangled up in this mess that she thought she could handle alone.
I thanked the man on my way out the door and ran down the street, an extra bounce in my step. I found what I needed, and I knew what I had to do. I would find the missing girls, I would find Sayumi, and I would help put the shrine maiden to rest.
Everything was going to be fine.
15
“Have you found Keiko yet? Do you know where she is?”
I didn’t even have time to say hello before Yasu’s voice assaulted me over the phone.
“Hello, uh, no, not yet. But I think I’m getting closer.”
“You think?” His voice was so loud that I had to pull the phone away from my ear. “What do you mean, ‘you think’?”
The sun was setting outside. I didn’t have much time before I’d need to vacate the store, but I couldn’t outright tell Yasu about what I’d seen. That his girlfriend was somewhere inside the supposedly cursed Kurohana Forest.
“I mean that I’m getting closer, but I don’t have anything solid yet. If you give me a little more—”
“It’s already been several days!” he screamed. I held my tongue. His fiancée was missing, and I understood all too well how it felt to have a loved one suddenly up and disappear. He was upset. He had every right to be.
“Sir, please—”
“Do you know how it feels?” he interrupted me again, his voice hoarse. “Every night when I climb into bed she’s not there, but I can still smell her. I fall asleep not knowing whether she’s alive or dead. Not knowing whether she’s sick, or injured, or in pain. I don’t know if someone kidnapped her and is torturing her in a dark basement somewhere, or if she’s lying dead in a ditch, lost and waiting for someone to bring her home. I wake up and the scent of her is still there. I reach out but… there’s nothing. She’s gone. Every time I open my eyes and she’s not there I’m brought back to reality once more. Do you know how that feels? Do you?”
“I understand, sir, I do, but—”
“How could you?”
I stopped. “I’m sorry?”
“How could you understand what it’s like? Have you lost a boyfriend? A lover? How do you know what I’m feeling right this very moment?”
He’s in pain, I reminded myself. He’s lashing out at whatever he can because that’s the only reaction he knows. It’s not personal.
“I lost my parents,” I said. “They were murdered right in front of me.”
“Then you understand nothing.”
That hurt more than I wanted to let on, but I pushed the feelings aside. He was like a wounded cobra trapped in a cage, and he would continue to lash out at anything and everything until his energy was spent.
“I just… I need you to find her.”
“I’m doing my best, sir.”
“Do you have any idea? Any idea at all where she might be?”
Yes. Trapped in a cursed forest. Not that I could tell him that.
“I’m not sure, but I’m doing everything I can to find her.”
He fell silent. The sun was disappearing behind the trees outside and the streetlights flickered on. I didn’t have much time, but it would be rude to hang up on him.
“I’ll make sure to call you first thing the moment I know something. Don�
��t worry. Please.”
“I just… I miss her.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine, sir. Really. I understand.”
He sniffled. “Sometimes I think I see her. I wake up and she’s standing by the end of the bed, looking down at me. My heart starts pounding, like, she’s come back! She’s finally come back! But when I turn the light on, she’s gone. Or she was never really there to begin with. I don’t know. Maybe it’s all just a dream. A horrible, bad dream.”
Or maybe it wasn’t.
“Does she ever… say anything when you see her?”
“No. At least, I don’t think so. It’s too dark to see clearly, and I don’t remember hearing her say anything. She’s just standing there. Looking at me.”
“Have you seen her anywhere else?”
“No. Does it mean anything?” His voice was suddenly full of hope. He was so desperate that he’d grab at any straw presented to him, no matter what it was.
“It means you miss her.” He fell silent. The sun faded from view and my skin began to crawl. “But if anything else comes up, anything at all, please give me a call, okay?”
“Yeah. Sure. Of course. Thank you.”
“We’ll find her. Don’t worry. I will call you the moment I know anything myself.” Anything that wouldn’t send him running to his death. I needed more time. There was still so much I didn’t understand about the situation, not to mention whether Keiko was still alive or not.
“Thank you. I’ll call again soon.”
“Okay. Good night.”
I hung up and ran over to the front door, locking it. I didn’t know why I bothered; anyone stupid enough to come into the store after dark wouldn’t be leaving again. When Sayumi first told me not to venture in the store after dark, I asked her if anyone else ever had. “Yes,” she said. “A colleague of my grandfather’s. I was only young at the time, perhaps five or six-years-old. He owed my grandfather some money and came around to argue about it. He was drunk, of course. He had a problem with drink and gambling. He beat on the door, over and over, until my grandfather yelled from upstairs for him to go away. He’d deal with him in the morning. All the screaming woke me up. I stumbled into the hall and I heard the sound of glass smashing downstairs; turned out he’d taken a stone and broken the front door window glass. He opened the door and came into the store screaming. My grandmother came running out and put me back to bed. She stayed with me, telling me stories, until I fell asleep again. The store was closed the next day and my grandmother took me out to the park while grandfather ‘cleaned things up.’ By cleaning she meant the man’s body. They found him torn to shreds. Officially it was a wild animal attack, although the police could offer no clue as what animal it was. My grandfather knew better. As did the chief. He was aware of the strange happenings around town, and particularly our house. That was the end of that, and whenever I brought up the store after dark, they gently reminded me of what would happen should I errantly stray.”
A chill ran down my spine. I hurried out, closing the door to the hall behind me. The back door was tied closed with string. The repairman was busy and wouldn’t be out for another few days, he said. Nowhere was safe anymore.
Nowhere.
16
The doorbell tinkled the next morning and a familiar face entered the store. Mr Fujita, a jolly old man and one of the store regulars.
“Welcome!”
“Ah, hello dear. How are things?”
“Good, sir, thank you.”
He walked over to the counter and put his hands down on the edge. “It’s a little sudden, but I don’t suppose Ms Matsuda is in?”
I shook my head. “I’m terribly sorry, she’s still on her vacation.”
He clucked in disappointment. “Ah, that sure is a shame. My wife is having a little get-together this weekend, and she was hoping Ms Matsuda would join and make some of her famous matcha for them. Do you know when she’ll be back?”
“She should be back in another week or so.” The lie rolled off my tongue from all the practice it’d been getting lately. “I’ll make sure to let her know that Mrs Fujita is looking forward to seeing her again.”
The man waved it away. “Ah, it’s no bother. My wife is just fussy and too lazy to learn how to make the tea herself. I keep telling her it’s not that difficult. You stick the whisk in and stir and voila, you have tea. But she’s all ‘Nooo, first you must do this, and then you have to do this, and if you don’t turn the cup in this direction this many times, then it doesn’t taste as good, and…’”
I smiled as he continued his rant. In some households, tea was very serious business, apparently.
“Anyway, never mind. How are you going, Mako? You’re growing up into such a beautiful young woman, how are you not beating the men off with sticks?” Mr Fujita always called me by my first name. It didn’t bother me; on the contrary, he was like the kindly old grandfather I never had. It was welcoming more than condescending, but the words sent a shiver down my spine, regardless. They reminded me of Hiroshi. I hadn’t seen the delivery guy for several days.
“I’m fine, thank you, Mr Fujita. I’m looking forward to Ms Matsuda’s return. The store can get a little stressful when it’s just me running it.”
He laughed, a booming sound that filled the room. “Oho, I bet, if your customers are anything like my wife. No special man in your life yet?”
“No, sir.” I dared not tell him about the problems with Hiroshi. Mr Fujita was a friendly old man, but also robust for his age and a little rough around the edges. The last thing we needed was him trying to rough up a delivery driver when there was no hard evidence of any wrongdoing.
“You know, I still remember the first time I met you. You were this tiny, thin little girl cowering in the corner. That corner, right there.” He pointed behind me, past the register. “You could barely speak and never looked up from your long hair draped over your face. You were like that every time I came in. Bless Ms Matsuda for all the good work she does helping people around the community, but if I’m entirely honest, her best work was you. Look at you now.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that. I tried not to think of my early days in the store, when Sayumi took me in because I was too old for foster care and had no family left to stay with. Well, I did have a cousin a few hours away, but she was only a few years older than myself and in no position to take care of me.
“T-Thank you, sir,” I said.
“A terrible thing that happened to your parents, truly terrible,” he continued. “And they never found who did it, did they?”
“No, sir.”
“That just…” He hesitated a moment and clenched a fist. “That just boils my blood. Shirotama has always been such a nice village, and for something like that to happen, and for no-one to ever be charged for it, well…” He turned to look at me again. “I’m sorry, child. I truly am.”
I shook my head furiously. No-one was charged for their murder because there was no-one to charge. Sayumi was the only person other than myself who knew the truth. The rumours that spread around town in the days and weeks following the brutal deaths of my parents said that a man sneaked in during the night and stabbed them to death. He was so violent in his attack that there was little left to identify the bodies when he was done. But there was no man. My parents’ deaths were my fault. I was playing around with things I shouldn’t have. Testing my limits. I was angry and upset. They treated me like a child and I was determined to prove I wasn’t.
I went down to my family’s altar room and opened the small cupboard containing my grandparents’ remains. Neither my mother nor my father ever spoke of them, nor of what happened to them. I wanted to find out for myself and grabbed the urn containing my grandfather’s ashes.
It turned out there was a good reason they never told me about my grandparents. My grandfather in particular. The moment I focused on his urn, and on the only image I had of him in my mind—the photo
of him in the very same altar—I was flooded with evil. That was the only way I could describe it. The urn wasn’t just connected to him; it was him. His spirit was resting somewhere—I didn’t know whether it was peacefully, but it was resting—and I called him back. It wasn’t just him, however. I had no idea what I was doing, I just knew that I could see things when I picked up objects and focused on them. That day I unleashed a wave of evil into our house. Not just my grandfather, but swarms of spirits I couldn’t control and couldn’t stop. They spotted me and they followed me back. When the police found me the next morning covered in the blood of my parents and a fire raging upstairs, they took me in and declared the house a crime scene. It was a crime scene alright, but not of the human kind. I had no idea where the spirits went after they were done slaughtering my parents, nor why they left me alive and alone with their mangled, broken corpses, but it didn’t take long for news to spread. I was the lone survivor of the ‘red room.’ They put the fire out, but they could never get the blood out of the floor or walls. In the end, they demolished the house and the empty lot was left to me in my father’s will. I never wanted to step foot on it again.
“Anyway,” Mr Fujita interrupted my trip down memory lane, “there’s been a lot of strange things going on around town lately, don’t you think?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I was talking to my neighbour the other day, and his daughter was supposed to come and visit him for his birthday last week. Only she never showed up.”
My heart skipped a beat. “W-Was she okay?”
Mr Fujita shook his head, his eyes downcast. “They found her the next day by the river just outside town. Strangled and…” His voice trailed off. He didn’t need to say the rest. I could guess.
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