June 24, 1993 — Thursday
Furukawa, Gifu Prefecture
The sun had already slipped behind the mountains, leaving the town in a bruised shade of blue. Streetlights hummed softly, their glow spilling over the wet pavement. Two shadows moved beneath them — small, restless, and full of secrets.
Shinzo Ohba kicked a pebble down the road, hands in his pockets. "You know," he said, voice cracking with excitement, "I've been waiting for this night since the exams ended."
Keisuke Kisaragi frowned, the strap of his satchel digging into his shoulder. "You said there'd be five of us," he muttered. "Where are those idiots?"
"They said they'd meet us near the mountain."
Keisuke slowed, his sneakers scraping the ground. "Shinzo… have you even heard the stories about that temple?"
Shinzo grinned — that reckless kind of grin that made Keisuke uneasy. "Of course I have. That's why we're going."
"You sure we have to do this?" Keisuke's voice dropped. "What if something happens?"
The wind answered before Shinzo could.
It rushed down the narrow street, carrying the smell of rain and earth. Paper talismans fluttered on the old utility poles as the boys lifted their eyes.
There it was — the entrance.
A red wooden torii gate stood at the foot of the mountain steps, half-swallowed by darkness. The air around it felt colder, heavier — like the world was holding its breath.
Shinzo stepped forward first, grinning without looking back.
> "Come on, Keisuke. Don't tell me you're scared."
Keisuke's mouth opened, but no words came out. The wind pulled at his shirt, whispering through the pines.
Somewhere beyond that gate, something was waiting.
The stairs loomed before them — old stone steps swallowed by trees.
Branches tangled above like black veins, letting only slivers of moonlight cut through. The air smelled of wet moss and something faintly metallic.
Keisuke swallowed. "Shinzo…"
"Don't fear when I'm here," Shinzo said, puffing out his chest. His voice trembled anyway. He flicked on a small flashlight, its beam slicing through the dark. "See? Easy."
The light barely reached the next landing. Shadows twisted against the trees like they were alive.
Trying to sound brave, Keisuke muttered, "You know, Shinzo… I joined my grandpa's dojo. Learned some tricks."
He gave a nervous laugh. "So if something tries to attack us, they better not mess with me."
Shinzo grinned, shivering anyway. "That's our Keisuke the Great."
A sharp creak snapped through the silence.
Both boys froze.
It came again — a crunch, like a footstep crushing dried leaves.
"W–what was that?" Shinzo whispered.
Neither waited for the answer. They screamed and bolted up the stairs, flashlight swinging wildly, shadows chasing their feet.
When they finally stopped, panting and red-faced, they realized they were only halfway.
The forest seemed even darker now.
"Man…" Shinzo gasped, laughing shakily. "We're such idiots."
Keisuke forced a smile. "Yeah…"
They stood there for a moment, catching their breath under the heavy canopy. Then Shinzo broke the silence.
> "You know about the legend, right?"
Keisuke shook his head. "Just a bit. Something about an old shrine?"
Shinzo nodded, his tone dropping low. "They say the temple was built four hundred years ago, during the famine. The villagers offered prayers for rain… but the rain never came."
The wind stirred. The flashlight flickered.
"So one night," Shinzo continued, "they sacrificed a young girl — tied her hands, left her at the altar. And the next morning, it finally rained."
He swallowed. "But every year, on the same night… people say you can still hear her crying from the mountain."
Keisuke stared up the stairs. The darkness above seemed to pulse — alive, waiting.
Shinzo laughed nervously. "Creepy, right?"
"Yeah," Keisuke murmured. "Creepy."
The beam of the flashlight wavered, caught by the wind. Somewhere far above, a faint bell rang once — soft, hollow, like something calling them closer.
The last step felt like victory.
Keisuke bent over, hands on his knees, gasping for air. "We… finally made it."
Shinzo nodded, sweat glistening on his forehead. "Told you it wasn't that bad."
They both turned—and froze.
The temple stood silent before them. Its roof sagged beneath the weight of moss, and the wooden doors were wrapped in faded ropes, their paper seals torn by time. Lanterns hung on each side, cracked and dark. The wind rustled through the prayer flags, whispering in voices too soft to understand.
Keisuke shivered. "This place was… closed, right?"
"Yeah," Shinzo said, stepping closer. "Monks shut it down after the, uh… thing."
"The girl?"
He nodded. "They said she was sacrificed for rain. Broke the temple's rules. So they sealed it forever."
Keisuke's eyes lingered on the splintered torii gate. "Feels like it's still angry."
Shinzo didn't answer. Instead, he crouched, pulling a small pouch from his bag. Inside were a needle, a thread, and a small bottle of red liquid.
Keisuke blinked. "You actually brought them?"
"Of course! I told you, I read it in that book—'Forbidden Rituals of Gifu.'" Shinzo grinned nervously. "If you go into a closed temple with a needle, thread, and blood, you can wish for whatever you want. But you have to sing the song while doing it."
Keisuke frowned. "And we're doing this for… what again?"
Shinzo puffed out his chest. "A brand new Gundam suit, obviously!"
Keisuke sighed, but a small smile slipped through. "You're insane."
"Come on," Shinzo urged. "Just once."
The boys stepped through the half-open temple doors. Dust danced in the flashlight beam. The floorboards groaned under their feet as they knelt before the old altar.
Shinzo pricked his finger, mixing a drop of blood with the thread. "Now we sing."
Keisuke hesitated — then, laughing awkwardly, joined in.
> "Stand up to the victory~"
Their voices echoed against the walls, thin and trembling.
But then… another sound joined in.
Step.
Step.
Soft, deliberate — from somewhere behind the altar.
Then came the faint chime of bells, light and rhythmic, as if someone was walking slowly toward them.
The boys froze.
"Shinzo…" Keisuke whispered. "Did you—?"
Step.
The bells grew louder.
Shinzo's flashlight flickered, then went out.
The air turned colder. The cicadas outside had gone silent.
Then — slide.
The temple's back door shifted open with a long wooden groan.
Keisuke whipped around.
A tall figure stepped out of the dark.
It wore a red oni mask, horns glinting in the dim light, and a tattered black scarf that fluttered like smoke.
Keisuke's breath caught in his throat.
Shinzo screamed first — a high, broken sound — and fell backward, clutching his bag.
"Wh—who's there?!" Keisuke shouted, voice shaking.
The figure didn't answer. It just tilted its head, watching them.
Keisuke's knees trembled, but he moved in front of Shinzo anyway.
> "S–sorry to disturb you, miss," he stammered, bowing slightly. "My friend's… dumb. We're leaving."
The figure froze.
Then — it laughed.
A low, muffled laugh that twisted into three different voices at once.
Keisuke blinked. "…That voice—"
The scarf slipped off. The mask lifted.
Standing before them were three familiar faces — Takeru Hoshino, Hiroto Saitō, and Obayashi Ren.
Their laughter exploded through the quiet temple.
Keisuke's face turned red.
> "You brats! I'll kill you!"
He lunged at them, swinging his satchel like a sword. The three boys screamed and darted toward the stairs, nearly tripping over each other.
"Idiot!" Shinzo yelled, still shaking but grinning now. "Wait till I curse you! I will curse you!"
"Sorry! Sorry!" Hiroto shouted between laughs. "It was Takeru's idea!"
Their voices echoed through the forest — laughing, shouting, chasing — the sound of pure summer chaos.
For a moment, everything felt light again.
Then came it — faint, from somewhere deeper in the woods.
A dog's whimper.
Low. Sharp. Followed by the crunch of footsteps.
Everyone froze mid-laugh.
Keisuke's smile vanished. "H–how many of you came?"
Takeru frowned. "Just us three… why?"
The footsteps came closer.
Slow. Uneven.
Shinzo's flashlight flickered back to life — the beam shaking in his trembling hands.
"Run," Keisuke whispered.
And they did.
Down the stairs.
Branches whipped against their faces, feet slapping against the stone.
They didn't stop until the torii gate was behind them, until the night air filled with their gasps and panicked laughter.
When they finally reached the bottom, the fear melted into wild, breathless joy.
All five collapsed on the gravel path, laughing until their stomachs hurt.
> "You guys are insane," Keisuke wheezed.
"You screamed the loudest!" Hiroto shot back.
"Did not!"
Their laughter carried into the night
Present Time — Takayama City, 27 October 2009
The sound of the rain tapping softly against the window pulled Keisuke from his dream.
He blinked, his vision still hazy.
The pages of a book were stuck against his cheek — The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.
He was lying across the dining table, a half-finished cup of coffee gone cold beside him.
Keisuke rubbed his eyes and let out a quiet sigh.
> "…Those idiots," he murmured, the corners of his mouth curling just slightly.
"I miss them."
He closed the book carefully and slipped it back into the bookshelf, aligning its spine perfectly with the rest.
The clock ticked softly in the dark apartment — 1:43 a.m.
Keisuke walked to his bed, folded the blanket once, and turned off the lamp.
Darkness filled the room.
Outside, the rain kept falling.
Inside, silence.
And somewhere in his sleep, the echoes of laughter from that summer night came back —
faint, distant, and hauntingly familiar.
TO BE CONTINUED