by Rin Chupeco
I play the second video. It begins with an image of Adams smiling into the lens. “This is Aokigahara,” I can hear him narrating, “one of Japan’s most beautiful forests—and also one of its most tragic.” The camera pans over to the familiar row of trees and unmarked trails where I walked earlier. “The deaths in the forest are well documented. Hundreds of suicides have been reported here, and the numbers only continue to rise every year.
“But the legend of the Aitou village within Aokigahara is a different case completely. There is literally nothing about Aitou in modern documents or personal accounts, and very few records about it have survived. If the village exists at all, Aitou has been very successful at keeping its secrets.”
A pause, then his tone becomes more relaxed. “What do you think, Henry? That sound good enough to add in later?”
The camera leaves Adams to zoom in on one of the other crew members. “I’m the writer, Adams. Stop doing my job for me.” Muted laughter. “But yeah, sounds good. I’ll have Jacobs look it through at post.”
The camera moves again, and my heart leaps when it focuses on Kagura, who was standing off to one side. “Miss Kino, where are we going next?”
“We’ll need to go deeper into the woods, though I cannot guarantee the exact location. My father’s map is very crudely drawn—mostly guesswork, I’m afraid.”
“It’s better than nothing, Miss Kino,” says whoever is holding the camcorder. “You still got your photocopied maps, guys?”
A chorus of yeahs.
Adams says, “To be honest, I’m not holding my breath. If nothing else, we can attempt to call out the spirits in the forest if we can’t find the village. But hey, who knows?”
“Yeah,” I mutter, “who knew?”
The video runs for another ten minutes. I don’t glean much from it. The crew is mainly silent as they travel, with only a few warnings from Kagura about how to proceed whenever the terrain proves particularly tricky. When not in motion, the video cam tends to linger on Kagura, who pauses every now and then to survey the area with a worried frown on her face.
More often than not, Stephen Riley is by her side, talking and gesturing at things out of the camera’s range. He sneaks glances at her when he thinks she isn’t looking, and I can tell from the unguarded look on his face that the man has a huge crush on the miko. The faint snickers from behind the camera tell me that whoever’s filming knows it too.
It’s only when the video’s about to end that I see the ghost.
What gets me is that, like Okiku, she’s very young. Unlike Okiku though, she is grinning, lips distended and stretched over blackened teeth, and her eyes are wild with madness. Her skin is paper-white; her short-cropped hair is bobbed and cut in the style of a kokeshi doll’s. She is clad in a heavy ceremonial kimono that leaves a silky trail on the ground behind her.
Her eyebrows are different. They’re shaved off, with teardrop-shaped gobs of ink painted on in their place. From what I remember of the books I’ve read, it’s a fashionable court custom called hikimayu. It was a popular practice among noble ladies, though it tapered off by the time the Meiji era rolled around.
The apparition makes an unnerving, ululating sound. I watch in horror as it flings its head back and jerks toward Kagura.
The video chooses that moment to end.
“Ah, damn it!” I frantically play the next one, but I needn’t have worried.
“We found it!” The excitement bubbles in Adams’s voice. Nobody else seems to have noticed the ghostly presence I saw in the last clip, and the sight of Kagura standing unharmed beside Adams helps me breathe easier.
“Oh my God, we actually found it!”
They’d found the village. Hope struggles with the despair growing inside me. Kagura and the crew must be somewhere around this place, but that also means they could have encountered the wandering ghost as well.
“I don’t believe this,” I hear Kagura whisper in Japanese. The others are too jubilant to hear her dismay.
“This is unbelievable,” Stephen Riley is saying. “We have actually found the legendary Aitou village, a place no one has seen in more than a hundred years. This is almost like—like a ghost hunter’s version of El Dorado. This is phenomenal.”
“It has all the atmosphere you’d expect with this creepy fog and rows and rows of abandoned houses,” someone else says. “It’s the perfect place to talk to ghosts.”
“Please stop.” The camera swings back to Kagura. The miko is visibly distressed, and she’s holding a wooden stake in each hand. “Please, please be silent. We are in danger here.”
“In danger? I don’t see anything, Miss Kino. There’s no one left here.”
“It does not matter,” Kagura insists. “Please stay close to me and do as I say. Strange spirits still live here. Do not anger them.”
“Kagura—” Riley begins.
“There is no time, Stephen! We must find the dolls and exorcise the ghosts immediately. My father’s notes say it’s the only way. Do not antagonize these spirits!”
“Miss Kino,” Adams protests, “we make a business out of pissing off ghosts. That’s the risk we take every time we’re out on haunts like this.”
But even as he says the words, a startled cry rises in the air. The camera turns to one of the film crew, who is trembling on the ground.
“Franz is gone!”
“What? But he was just standing—”
“I saw it. I saw her grab him from the mist. She dragged him into it.” The man raises his arm, and the camcorder follows the direction he’s pointing, away from the village. But the woods have disappeared into an unending swirl of fog so thick you could tap-dance across it. “Oh my God, she has Franz!”
“Run! Make for the shrine!” This time, the crew takes heed of the fear in Kagura’s voice. The men scramble for safety, the camera bouncing at dizzying angles.
Then the camera sweeps back to Kagura, who had remained behind to face the ghost inside that mist. A few seconds before the video ends, I see something rising behind Kagura. I pause the film to study it. It’s not the female ghost from the previous video. The spirit is facing away from the camera, so all I can tell is that her hair is longer and her head is set at an unnatural angle. My hopes fall. Had Kagura confronted it?
I view the last video. At first, there’s nothing but black, and I wonder if someone forgot to take off the lens cap. But then a man moves into view. I assume it’s the man who’s been holding the camcorder all this time. His face is pale, and streaks of blood run across his face, though I can’t tell if it’s his own or someone else’s. He’s wheezing, as if he’s having difficulty breathing. I don’t know where he is. The camera seems to have a hard time focusing on his surroundings. The frame looks grayed out and blurred.
“If anyone can…suh-see this, puh-puh-please help,” he gasps, struggling with the words, “don’t let her…don’t let hhhher take me. The shrine is the kkuuuh-key. The shri…”
He stops, eyes wide. Something has slithered up behind him. Pale hands wrap around his face. A dead girl’s face rises on screen before the man loses his grip on the camera, and it crashes to the ground. In the distance, there is an odd, gargling sound.
The camera continues to record. I wait with bated breath, torn between my horror for the man and fear that there is nothing I can do. I know I’m too late to help this man. The next best thing I can do is to avenge him or put a stop to whatever spirit got him.
I regret the thought almost immediately. The girl comes back into view, her face so close to the screen that I reel away from the camera, hitting the wall with the back of my head.
It’s not the same ghost who’d been tailing the crew or the one behind Kagura or even the one I’d seen crawling outside. Much to my shock, the ghost has the same teardrop brows, the same black, distended smile, but it’s a different girl.
“He is not the one,” the ghost whispers into the camera and then reaches out for me.
I switch off the camcord
er, breathing hard. Throughout my misery, Okiku does nothing. Her eyes are closed.
I come to three conclusions from the videos. They confirm that the ghost hunters arrived at the village where I am now. They tell me there are at least four angry spirits here.
Now I remember why the temple I’d seen when I entered the village looked so familiar. It’s the same one in the photograph Kagura sent me. And if she and any of the men are still alive, it’s possible that they’ll be at that shrine.
Which means I need to leave this house, whether I want to or not.
Argh.
“There are many ghosts wandering,” Okiku whispers, sensing where my thoughts lie.
“I know.”
“There is one ghost wandering.”
“Yes, I think she made that pretty clear when she chased us in here.”
“No. There is one ghost wandering this house.”
A cold chill takes over. I glance back at the sliding door in a panic, but the ofuda remains securely in place. There doesn’t seem to be any malignant presence outside.
But then the thumping noises begin, and it sounds like the noise is coming from my left.
The furniture that remains in the house is in varying states of disrepair, with parts and disintegrating pieces bundled against one wall. The scratching sounds come from somewhere behind them.
I respond by scampering as far away from the noise as I can, but Okiku is built differently. She moves toward the pile.
“Okiku…”
She ignores me. “It is harmless, but you must end it.”
“End what?”
Furniture tumbles down. Okiku sweeps the remaining debris away with one powerful swipe of her hand, revealing a strange cocoon-like being. It’s the size of a full-grown adult, if full-grown adults wrap themselves like caterpillars and thump against the floor in mute agony.
“What is this?” I ask, appalled.
“A victim,” Okiku says, her voice one of sadness.
“Are you going to…”
She shakes her head. “I cannot touch it. But you can.”
“Me? Ki, I am not touching that thing even if it’s a million dollars.” A million dollars that’s scratching its way across the floor.
“Wood will be enough.”
I look down at the stake I’m holding in my hand.
“Please.” Her voice is softer. “It is suffering…”
I don’t want to. I really don’t. But Okiku has never pleaded with me for anything before…
I swallow and step forward. The cocooned creature makes a noise that sounds like a whimper as I raise my hand.
The thing breaks open when I find my mark. It’s like a brittle, desiccated coffin made of thread. Inside, there’s a wisp of an image: a young man in worker’s clothes, a look of indescribable despair on his face. Then he’s gone. The cocoon crumbles into dust, and all that is left are cobweb-like strings splayed on the ground.
“Silkworms,” Okiku murmurs.
I shudder. I know a lot of rural villages used to be established in the silkworm trade, but just how big do these things get in Aitou? “Ki, was that a man in there?”
She nods. “He was suffering. The village still suffers.”
“But why would anyone do that to him?”
“There is a hunger here. There is a need to feed.”
“Why couldn’t you free him?” The words come out sounding petulant, but I can’t help myself. The thought of whatever killed and entrapped these villagers is an unsettling reminder of the kind of place we’re stuck in.
“It is a creature of earth.”
That might sound cryptic to anyone else, but I understand. Certain elements can nurture or destroy others, according to wu xing, a Chinese philosophy often associated with feng shui. Metal weakens wood; wood weakens earth; earth weakens water; water weakens fire; and fire weakens metal. I suppose it’s why the wooden spikes worked so well on it. I now realize why Kagura brought them with her and insisted that the ghost crew bring the same.
It seemed odd of Okiku to flee from the crawling creature when she’d always stood her ground before. Or that she’d ask me to kill the cocoon. Okiku has always wanted to deliver the killing blows so I won’t have to.
She’s standing so damn still, as if she’s afraid she might break if she moves. I take a step toward her and she sags forward, the rattle in her throat no longer a warning of impending death but a sound of pain. I catch her before she topples forward. And then I realize.
“Ki, if these are all creatures of earth, then you’re—”
Earth weakens water.
“It is of no consequence.”
I wish she’d stop saying that. “‘Of no consequence,’ my ass. Ki, you can barely stand. If staying in this village makes you weaker, then I want to get us out of here as soon as we can.
“Look, do you want to—do you want to rest for a bit? I’ll miss the company, but it’ll help keep your strength up.”
She looks at me.
“No, I’m not kidding. I’ve got these—” I make a halfhearted wave at her with the spike. “And I’ve got flashlights and ofudas and everything. Come on. The sooner we find Kagura and get out of here, the sooner we can find another hot spring to annoy you with.”
She finally smiles at my lame attempts at humor. She draws near and touches my face. Her fingers are cold but not as chilly as the fog outside. “Be vigilant,” she says before stepping into me, and—
—she isn’t breathing. She is fighting her way out of the
find him seek him take him
dank cold, bloodless fingers clawing at unforgiving stone, and she isn’t breathing. It takes so long, so long to find her way out of her water grave, and she isn’t breathing. Her mouth is screaming, the things inside her head are screaming, but the night around her feels strangely silent, unconcerned and
little deaths whisper whispering claws and bone find him
unforgiving as she reaches the top.
Her tangled corpse rises out of the well. Horrible noises rumble in her throat. She isn’t breathing. Her fingers, talons now, swipe at the thin air with growing ferocity, leaving grooves in the wind.
Her first decision as a dead woman is vengeance. She crawls up the walls of the castle, the castle that should have meant something to her, but it is a luxury she can no longer remember, because she
creatures flit blood and bone blood and bone
ashes lift find him take him find
him
isn’t breathing. She is looking for him. She is looking for him, because she isn’t breathing, and he is her
vengeance.
He is looking out the window, and he cries when she looms before him. For all his deformities, he is a soldier. He scrambles for his sword and draws it. She shrills her laughter when he slices through her body and finds no resistance, because she isn’t breathing and he can no longer
seek destroy kill feast kill feast kill eat kill eat kill
touch her.
For the first time, she sees the boy on his back. Wide-eyed, trembling, more skeleton than youth, the crumble of his clothes older than his age. She was not his first, and the rage
kill eat kill feast kill eat kill feast kill FEAST KILL FEAST KILLFEAST
grows that he could not even accord her that privilege.
The retainer begins to
KILLFEASTKILLFEASTKILLFEAST
KILLFEASTKILLFEASTKILLFEAST
scream.
And when it is over, she—
—I sink to the floor, forgetting momentarily that I have legs.
I need a few seconds to catch my breath while trying to blink the images out from my eyeballs. I’m usually treated to snippets of Okiku’s old life when we merge, but this was the first time I’ve ever been privy to snippets of her life after she died. I could feel the retainer’s fear and her gleeful satisfaction as her hands dug into his eyes. Viewing his death—however much he deserved it—leaves a foul taste in my soul.
&nb
sp; I close my eyes and wait until the shaking passes. There will be more questions to ask Okiku later.
I retrieve my backpack, but I need a few minutes to marshal the nerve to peel the ofuda off the doors. Nothing comes screaming through the shoji screen, so I slide it open slowly, still expecting the worst. But there’s nothing waiting for me on the other side—pun intended.
“Here goes, Ki,” I mutter under my breath and start running.
I make sure to keep within the shadows, uncertain if any spirits can find me by sight alone or if they’re using some other preternatural sense. I don’t give them much opportunity, skirting from house to house while working my way toward the shrine. I can see it silhouetted against the dark night, and the rest of my trip is, thankfully, free of any mishaps.
I see a couple more of the human-sized silkworm cocoons along the way. I know Okiku would insist, so I dispatch them as well. The first carries the soul of a young mother and her child, and the second is a little boy’s. I’m not sure if this gives them peace, but at this point, I can’t do much else for them.
Several of the houses I pass are no longer habitable, though a few remain upright. The exterior of every house also seems to have a cabinet-like enclosure with multiple dividers along the outside walls, though I also see similar structures in the outdoor sheds beside these residences. I wonder briefly what they’re for but decide I have bigger problems at the moment.
The biggest of these turns out to be the shrine itself. The main doors are boarded up. I can’t find any other way inside, and I don’t have anything that could help pry them open. Ironically, I concede that a crowbar is probably the first thing Callie would have thought to bring.
Thinking about Callie makes my eyes sting. The idea that she could be trapped here as well terrified me at first. But there was nothing unusual in the photo I’d taken of her to show this, and that gives me some comfort, however cold.
She’s going to be so pissed we got separated though.
“Now what?” I ask myself.
I circle the shrine as best as I can, but I can’t find another entrance. I take a step back, studying the boards. They were nailed haphazardly and with little finesse, but there are small holes in the wood that I can peek through.
