“Mm, unfortunately, I have no psychic powers, either,” Takatsuki replied with a cheeky smile. “But I am rather interested in that mirror. I’d love to see it. Also, if possible, I’d like to speak with the producer. Do you think that’d be possible?” “Well, he comes by every once in a while to check on the haunted house, so I think that would probably be fine. I’ll ask Mr. Terui when he’s coming next.” Rino nodded. Taking in the conversation from the sidelines, Naoya cast a discreet look in Takatsuki’s direction. Normally, he would have started getting riled up, clutching at Rino’s or Airi’s hands, saying something like, “This is amazing!” But Takatsuki was showing absolutely zero signs of going into large dog mode today. Naoya started to worry somewhat that maybe he wasn’t feeling well after all. Still, Takatsuki seemed to have officially taken on the case. His interest in the mirror appeared to be genuine, and perhaps he’d regain his usual self over the course of the investigation. Naoya hoped so anyway. Takatsuki contacted him later to say he’d arranged to meet with the haunted house’s producer. And so, on a Saturday in early September, Naoya headed to Riddle Park. He met up with Takatsuki at eleven in the morning in front of the park gates. Summer vacation was likely over for most people who weren’t in university, but as it was a weekend, the place was crowded. Taking out the headphones he had stuffed into his ears, Naoya looked around at the throngs of families and couples and noticed two tall figures who managed to stand out, even in the crowd. It was Takatsuki, dressed as ever in a suit, despite being at an amusement park, and Sasakura, decked out in all-black casual clothing and looking like an unsavory sort of guy. “Hey. You’re late, Fukamachi.” “There’s still five minutes until our meeting time, though… Why is Mr. Sasakura here? Didn’t we come to speak to the producer today?” “Our appointment with the producer is in the early evening,” Takatsuki said. “Before that, I wanted to see the haunted house as a normal patron. Besides, wouldn’t it be boring to come all the way to an amusement park just for a meeting?” Takatsuki seemed eager to enjoy himself, as usual. “Oh, then are you going to try the rides, too?” “That’s the plan. Wait—Fukamachi, don’t tell me you’re afraid of thrill rides?” “Afraid of them…? I don’t know, really.” “What do you mean?” “Um, I haven’t really been to many amusement parks.” Naoya’s parents had taken him to amusement parks a few times when he was little, but there hadn’t been many rides he was tall enough for at the time. Plus, his parents weren’t fans of thrill rides to begin with, so he couldn’t recall going on any. There had been few family outings since his ears became the way they were, and Naoya didn’t have any friends to go to an amusement park with. “I see. Well then, we’d better have lots of fun today.” Takatsuki smiled brightly. Then suddenly, he looked past Naoya and waved one hand. “Hey! Over here!” “Sorry to keep you waiting!” Ruiko had arrived. She ran toward them in a hurry, her long hair flying behind her. She was in contacts instead of glasses, and her face was made up nicely. Clad in a gauzy shirtdress, a tank top, and jeans, she looked a bit more put together and energetic than she did when Naoya saw her at school. Feeling a slight sense of déjà vu, Naoya realized this was the same group of people he’d gone to Yanaka with the previous summer. That had been his first time meeting Sasakura and also the first time he and Ruiko had a proper conversation. “Don’t worry. You didn’t keep us waiting at all, Miss Ruiko. It’s only just getting to our agreed meetup time. Now then—shall we go in?” At Takatsuki’s prompting, the four of them went through the gates. They were enveloped at once by lively music and cheers as the extraordinary place known as an amusement park unfolded before them instantaneously, like a pop-up book. White horses and carriages, straight out of a fairy tale, went in an elegant circular path on a resplendently decorated merry-go-round. Incessant cries of both joy and fear rang out from a pirate ship that was suspended in midair and swinging, pendulum-like, back and forth in big arcs. Instinctively ducking at a thunderous roar that passed overhead, they looked around to see a coaster racing along a towering track. A gigantic Ferris wheel rotated leisurely, while a free-fall ride dropped from an incredible height as its passengers let out hair-raising screams. There was so much information bombarding all five of the senses that it made one feel a little dazed. Was the sweet smell lingering in the air coming from the churros being sold at the concession stand? Or perhaps from the caramel-covered popcorn? Suddenly a cry of “It’s Riddleman!” came from across the way, and a rush of children all ran off in one direction. They were headed for a red-haired clown in a polka-dot hat. It seemed this was Riddleman, the park’s mascot. With a round, plump body and a gaudy jacket covered in question marks, he tapped the ends of his large, clunky shoes together and greeted the surrounding guests with a wave. With a quick flick of Riddleman’s white-gloved hands, countless soap bubbles began floating magically up from inside a hedge. The children cheered again, and Riddleman gave an affected bow. Though it was his first time coming to Riddle Park, Naoya felt somehow terribly nostalgic. Maybe his memories of being taken to amusement parks as a child were coming back up. He remembered, back then, being utterly convinced that such a place was a land of dreams and that when closing time came, not wanting to go home, he would throw a tantrum and embarrass his parents. “Professor Akira, where should we start?” Ruiko asked, opening up a pamphlet she’d grabbed near the park gates. Takatsuki smiled smugly and pointed to a spot on the park map. “We’ll start here, naturally!” He was, of course, pointing to the haunted house. With that, Takatsuki set off at a brisk pace. Naoya wondered at first if it was okay to let someone with no sense of direction lead the way, but before long, a building with a large sign that read THE CURSED ELEMENTARY SCHOOL came into view. When it came to places he had been before, Takatsuki didn’t get lost. The haunted house’s exterior was roughly built to resemble an elementary school. Spooky music and shrieking sounds flowed continuously from the speakers installed on the building. It seemed to be quite the popular attraction, as the line to get in was long enough to be doubled up several times. Naoya glanced up at Sasakura’s face as the four of them stood in line. As expected, the man looked grim. Despite his tough appearance, Sasakura was apparently not a fan of ghosts. “Mr. Sasakura, you must not like haunted houses, huh?” “…I was just wondering why I’m at a haunted house in an amusement park in my mid-thirties. That’s all.” Sasakura glared down at him. His voice hadn’t distorted at all, but Naoya found it a little suspect that he hadn’t given a clear answer to the question. Takatsuki spoke up then. “Haunted houses aren’t really for children, you know.” “How do you figure? They’re basically just childish prank stuff.” “Well, it’s true that some of the haunted houses at amusement parks are made for kids because of the parks’ clientele. But haunted houses were originally for adults to enjoy as well.” “Don’t haunted houses have their roots in circus sideshows?” Naoya asked, and Takatsuki nodded. “That’s what they say. But the original basis for them was the ghost story craze during the Edo period.” The subject was one Takatsuki had covered countless times in his lectures. What people knew as “ghost stories” had existed for ages. The Nihon Ryoiki and Konjaku Monogatarishu, written in the Heian period, both contained many stories about demons and ghosts. Vengeful and departed spirits even made appearances in The Tale of Genji. Artworks depicting monsters, like the Hyakki Yakou Emaki, were produced in droves during the Muromachi period. It was only in the Edo period, however, that such things became associated with entertainment and bloomed into supernatural hobbies being in vogue. “We’re talking about the late eighteenth century to the early nineteenth century. Pop culture fully developed from the Kansei to the Bunka and Bunsei eras, and people started taking an interest in the bizarre and mysterious. This was around the time of Kabuki having a huge influence and of Tsuruya Nanboku’s Tokaido Yotsuya Kaidan being a big hit. In the art world, famous painters like Toriyama Sekien, Katsushika Hokusai, and Utagawa Kuniyoshi created many works depicting ghosts and apparitions and grotesque scenes of the supernatural. Tons of ghost story collections were compiled, city folk amused themselves with ghost story rituals, and the ghost story craze was born. As a part of that craze, people began making monster crafts.” “Monster crafts? Like dolls?” “Exactly. You started to see people making dolls of monsters and ghosts by covering wood carvings with silk, animal pelts, or fish skins. These sorts of dolls were used in sideshows and theaters and became very popular. Some individuals even bought the dolls, and in 1830, a doctor living in Ōmorihigashi named Hyousen set up monster dolls in a detached room of his house. He also painted pictures of monsters on the walls and ceiling. It became known as the Omori Monster Teahouse, and people came to visit it in large numbers. It may have been the forerunner of what we now call haunted houses. Although it became so popular that the local magistrate at the time denounced it, saying it was disgraceful for a doctor to behave like a sideshow peddler, and the room was apparently forced to close down within several months.” Speaking happily in his soft voice, Takatsuki smiled. He truly was animated when talking about subjects like this. “Although just putting monster dolls on display in a room would eventually bore the customers. Showmen were racking their brains for ways to attract more guests. They came up with the idea to use elaborate mechanical dolls to reproduce popular Kabuki plays of the time. When customers entered the show tents, they’d see a number of ghost story scenes recreated. Eventually, these shows moved away from Kabuki and began depicting scenes of violent deaths and hellscapes. This ‘viewing scary scenes in succession’ format was firmly established as the format for subsequent haunted houses. I think there are still quite a few of that type left today. The kind where there’s suddenly a torture chamber right after a graveyard for some reason, or where you encounter not only monsters but also fierce wild animals, like they’ve just thrown together all the scary things they can think of.” “Ah, now that you mention it, I went to a haunted house when I was little that was like that.” A memory surfaced in Naoya’s head at Takatsuki’s words. He didn’t remember which amusement park it had been, but when one entered the building, they’d see things like a dark corridor with an old, unused well, a grave, and a cage with a monster inside. When someone passed in front of one of the sets, a rokurokubi would grow out from behind the grave, or the caged monster would struggle violently, as if reacting to a tripped sensor. “…But why did interest in weird stuff get so popular in the first place?” Sasakura muttered. “I don’t understand people who seek out horror for the fun of it.” “But, I mean, when it comes to amusement parks, aren’t they full of people who come to them just to scream? They’re all here because they want to be scared…not that I know why that is.” Naoya looked up at the roller coaster whizzing by overhead with screams trailing in its wake as he spoke. Ruiko laughed haughtily. “Mr. Sasakura and Fukamachi don’t get it. Scary and fun are two sides of the same coin.” “The hell does that mean?” Sasakura glared down at Ruiko, but she just smiled back up at him, unafraid, perhaps because she had known him for a while. “When the human brain is under stress, it secretes pleasure substances to relieve that stress. When you enter a haunted house, your heart starts beating really fast, right? You’re wondering when the ghosts will appear and how they’re going to frighten you. Your brain is already hard at work releasing pleasure substances at that point, but you don’t notice, because you’re nervous. Then a ghost jumps out, your fear and tension reach their peak, and even more pleasure substances are released. But haunted house ghosts don’t stick around for a long time. They withdraw quickly, or guests move on to the next room, and the ghosts disappear from sight. Your fear and tension ease up immediately when that happens, and all that remains in your relieved brain is a large amount of pleasure substances. That good feeling is converted into ‘fun.’” “What, like a drug?” “That’s right. That cycle of tension and release is repeated over and over in a haunted house, so you get more and more of a high. It’s fun to watch the exit of a haunted house because of it—people come running and screaming out of the door and burst into laughter the moment they step outside.” “But there are also kids who come out crying hysterically.” “Ah, that’s because they reach their limit before their fear subsides,” Ruiko said, watching as a family passed by them at that moment. “Young children can’t really distinguish between what’s real and what’s imaginary, so they’re convinced the ghosts that appear are genuine.” The family seemed to have just come out of the haunted house. An older brother was teasing his wailing younger brother, while their parents tried to calm him with strained smiles on their faces. The smaller boy, who looked like he was around early elementary school age, was likely too young for the haunted house. On the other hand, the older boy, who was probably in upper elementary school, was smiling excitedly, seeming to have enjoyed the attraction to the fullest. “Once kids get a little older, they realize all the monsters in the haunted house are fake. You’re never in any actual danger, and no matter how afraid you are, the fear will inevitably end once you reach the exit. You still get to savor that fear to a certain extent, however. I think people line up for haunted houses because they get to enjoy being scared safely as well as easily. They all want the thrill of it, essentially.” Shrugging her shoulders, Ruiko looked at the meandering line leading to the entrance of the haunted house. The line hadn’t moved very far. Everyone in it, standing there baking under the strong sunlight that had failed to weaken despite it being September, was looking forward to being spooked inside of that shoddy schoolhouse. “It’s just as Miss Ruiko says,” Takatsuki said. “All of us, deep down, are constantly on the hunt for excitement. Something out of the ordinary.” He turned his head slowly, surveying the bustling amusement park with a smile. “Originally, the circus sideshows that haunted houses have their roots in were often held in conjunction with things like temple and shrine unveilings. They were, in other words, places of hare.” The term “hare” was used commonly in folklore studies. People’s lives could be divided into two parts: hare and ke. Hare was used to refer to special events like rituals and festivals, whereas ke was for everyday life outside of such occurrences. In olden times, on hare days, people put on their haregi—the finer clothes they didn’t wear regularly—and did things that weren’t part of their typical lives. Put another way, hare meant “extraordinary.” Unveiling ceremonies that drew large crowds, and the sideshows that accompanied them, were exactly that: extraordinary happenings far removed from the usual. “Our everyday, familiar lives are safe and secure, but they’re a little boring. The extraordinary, where we can experience hare, is what breaks up that boredom. Even grotesque sights we wouldn’t normally want to see, when encountered in places totally removed from our normal lives, become fun, as Miss Ruiko called it. What’s more, those places promise fear and atrocities that will never harm us personally. That’s the ethos that haunted houses inherited.” Takatsuki turned his gaze to the start of the line, toward the shoddy elementary school building. A deafening high-pitched shriek was emitting from the speakers, along with music that seemed to say, “You’re in for a real fright.” “I would say that, by all rights, that’s what the supernatural should be, as far as people are concerned. Something that doesn’t hurt us, that we can safely peek at from the other side of the divide. That’s what makes it entertaining.” Once someone became tangled up in the supernatural, it stopped being enjoyable. Naoya thought back to the clients who had come to Takatsuki for help in the past. One had feared that her apartment was haunted; another had been afraid that she had been cursed by the number four. Not one of them had been in a state to find amusement in the situation they found themselves in. It had been the same for Naoya, too. At that village in Nagano, besieged by the dead, stranded on the slope that led to the underworld, he had been nothing short of petrified. Suddenly, Naoya heard a voice say— “I’m telling you, it said this haunted house is seriously scary!” Instinctively looking in the direction of the voice, Naoya saw a group of four people—men and women, approximately college-aged—standing next to them in the doubled-back line, talking and gesturing toward the fake schoolhouse. “Apparently, the mirror inside the haunted house was brought from a real school that was about to be torn down.” “They say the reflection of an actual ghost appears in the mirror’s splotchy surface!” “What? A real one? Come on, give me a break. I mean, as if that could actually happen.” “But, like, there’s a bunch of people who have seen it, I guess.” The group was saying pretty much exactly what Rino and Airi had told them the other day. They were speaking loudly enough that other people were turning to listen. Leaning forward a little, Takatsuki addressed the group. “Excuse me, but where did you hear that from?” Perhaps taken aback by suddenly being approached by a stranger, the group clammed up. Instances like this were where Takatsuki’s face was a plus, however. Looking up at his nicely arranged features, one of the girls spoke. “Umm, someone posted about it on Twitter.” “Yeah, it was trending.” The guy next to her nodded. Naoya recalled Rino and Airi saying it had been posted on social media, too. The word seemed to be spreading quite a bit. “Is this your first time coming to this haunted house?” The same girl and guy answered in the affirmative to Takatsuki’s question, and the other girl nodded in agreement. “Is it your first time, too?” Takatsuki asked the guy whose voice they had first heard, smiling at him. “Yeah, it’s my first time.” His voice distorted wildly, and Naoya reflexively pressed one hand to his ear. The guy had lied just now. He had been here before. But what was the point of lying about that? Takatsuki glanced at Naoya, before turning back to the guy with a grin. “I see,” he said. “Thanks very much.” In the end, the line kept inching forward, and the entrance to the haunted house drew closer. Suddenly, looking as if he had just remembered something very important, Takatsuki said, “That’s right. We should decide how we’re going to pair up while we have time.” “Pair up?” “You go through here in pairs. Come on, we’ll play odds and evens to decide. And shoot!” Flustered, Naoya stuck out his hand at the sudden command. He and Sasakura were each holding out an even number of fingers. Ruiko and Takatsuki were holding out an odd number. Ruiko squealed and grabbed Takatsuki’s arm. “Looks like we’re going into the abandoned school together, Professor Akira!” “I’m counting on you, Miss Ruiko.” The two of them were forming the “pretty people” pair, it seemed. Naoya looked up at Sasakura. Sasakura stared down at him. “Hey. If you get all freaked out in there, I’m leaving you behind. Got it?” “You’re one to talk. Please try not to punch a ghost in a panic.” “As if I would, idiot.” He slapped Naoya over the head with one big hand. Naoya glared at him. Damn violent detective, he thought. They arrived at the entrance to find Airi there. Apparently, she worked not only as a ghost but also as front door staff. She was wearing a black T-shirt with the words “The Cursed Elementary School” written on it. “Ah, Professor! You came! Um, please take a look at this first. Does any of the following apply to you?” She handed them a clipboard. On it were questions about whether they had been drinking or if they had any heart conditions, lower body injuries, issues such as panic proneness, and so on. “Now then, guests are shown inside in pairs, so if the first two people would step right this way! There will be a video playing in the small room just inside, so please watch it.” At Airi’s words, Takatsuki and Ruiko stepped into the building first. The plywood door was very thin, so the video’s sound was audible outside. It seemed to be explaining the abandoned school’s backstory. When the audio stopped, Airi opened the door again for Naoya and Sasakura to go inside. There was an old TV set in the small room, which had been decked out in black cloth. Evidently having already moved on, Takatsuki and Ruiko weren’t there. As soon as Airi closed the door, the video began to play. It told the same story as the one they had read on the haunted house’s website, except it was accompanied by eerie images and a creepy narration. When the video ended, a door at the back of the room opened and Rino appeared, wearing the same T-shirt as Airi. She made a look of recognition when she saw Naoya but quickly schooled herself into a neutral expression. That was probably how she was instructed to act. In a monotone voice, Rino began to speak. “The two of you will now enter the elementary school. Your duty is to inform Miss Yoruka, who even now haunts the halls searching for the children, that those she seeks are already dead, so that she may be laid to rest. Please collect the three children’s indoor shoes from around the school and give them to Miss Yoruka.” With that, she handed them a cloth bag, which they were presumably meant to put the indoor shoes in. Apparently, merely walking through and out of the haunted house was not on the agenda. Naoya worried about what he would do if they couldn’t find the shoes, and Rino’s next words only added to his anxiety. “Incidentally, the spirit of the vicious killer who murdered the children and Miss Yoruka is also still prowling around the school. If you happen upon him, please run away. The spirit of the killer still thirsts for blood.” “What?” “Well then, off you go.” As Rino spoke, another door at the back of the room opened of its own accord. “Come on.” Grabbing Naoya firmly by the back of the neck, Sasakura started forward. “W-wait a minute, Mr. Sasakura! I can walk on my own!” “Then get a move on,” Sasakura replied, letting go. Adjusting the neck of his shirt, Naoya looked ahead. The inside of the haunted house was unsparingly dark. He could make out the vague shape of shoe cubbies lined up along the wall in what was probably meant to be an entrance hall. Right, he thought, taking a closer look, indoor shoes. The cubbies were empty, though; it seemed they wouldn’t be finding the shoes here. Overhead, he heard the faint voice of a woman saying, “Please…come…out…” Naoya looked up instinctively to see a severed head whizzing by high up in the air. That was probably Miss Yoruka. “…Huh, wait, Mr. Sasakura?!” Naoya turned his gaze back down to find that Sasakura had vanished without his realizing it. He must have hurried on ahead while Naoya was moving slowly. Flustered, Naoya tried to catch up to him, but his eyes weren’t accustomed to the dark yet, and he had no clue where he was walking. A black cloth was covering the end of the passageway. He walked to that point and felt around, but it seemed to be a dead end. Where was the entrance to the next room? “Oh! Naoya’s still fumbling hands were suddenly grabbing at air. Losing his balance and nearly falling, he took a panicked step forward into… …complete darkness. What? he thought. It was pitch-black. He couldn’t see anything. In that instant, a powerful memory overtook him. A memory of the slope leading to the underworld. That tremendous darkness and helplessness. Deep in his chest, Naoya’s heart clenched uncomfortably. No, he thought. I’m not there right now. This isn’t Yomotsu Hirasaka. I got out of there. I came back with Takatsuki. So this can’t be. I’m safe now. There was a voice in the back of his head, though. —Are you really? All at once, Naoya wasn’t sure. Had he really come back from that hill? Was it possible that he was actually still just sitting there? Had coming back been only a dream? Had he just been sitting there this entire time with both eyes closed, lost in a vision of what he wanted to believe? He knew he wouldn’t be able to see anything, even with his eyes open, so all this time, he had just been living in a dream— “What are you doing?” Suddenly, someone grabbed Naoya by the scruff of his neck. Looking up in shock, he saw Sasakura’s face. “The passage is this way. What were you trying to do hiding out in a dead-end wall? Come on, let’s go.” Sasakura pulled him along. Moving his gaze somewhat from where he thought there had been nothing at all, Naoya saw that there was indeed a passage to the next room, which was made up to look like an elementary school classroom. In it, the tragic corpse of a child was spread out across a desk. Oh, right. They were in a haunted house. Naoya was at an amusement park with Takatsuki, Sasakura, and Ruiko. He wasn’t dreaming. This was reality. Both of Naoya’s knees spontaneously threatened to give way, and Sasakura grabbed him by the neck once more, pulling him up. “You good? Were you that scared?” “I…I’m not scared—it’s just, it’s not that.” Hurriedly pulling himself together, Naoya shook off Sasakura’s hand. He looked back over his shoulder, realizing that the thing he’d plunged headfirst into moments ago was a black cloth stretched between rooms to separate them. Thinking of himself fumbling around in there panicking was so embarrassing, Naoya thought he might die. “A-aren’t you afraid, Mr. Sasakura?! I thought you were scared of ghosts and stuff!” “What? I’m gonna thump you, you brat.” Sasakura’s hand was already moving as he spoke. A fist landed on the crown of Naoya’s head with a whack, and Naoya clutched at his head. “…It’s like Akira said earlier. There’s nothing in here but fakes.” Sasakura jutted his chin toward the corpse lying face up on the desk. Its innards, pulled from the slashed-open belly, shone in the dim light. And yet, ultimately, the corpse was nothing more than a doll made of silicone and paint. It was all manufactured fear and atrocities that would never bare its fangs toward them. “The real thing is nothing like this. The smell, the texture, it’s all different.” “…A detective would know, I guess.” Detectives were a far cry removed from ordinary citizens, Naoya thought. Sasakura gestured to the body with his chin again. “Over there. A shoe.” “Huh? Oh. You’re right.” A single bloody indoor shoe had fallen under the desk where the corpse lay. Crouching, Naoya reached for it. Suddenly, a pale hand shot out from what Naoya thought was a wall and touched his arm. “…Aagh!” Naoya shrieked as the hand retreated. Behind him, he heard Sasakura let out a small snort. Snatching the shoe up, Naoya rounded on the other man. “You made me pick that up just now because you knew something was gonna pop out, didn’t you?!” “It was obvious,” Sasakura said, smiling evilly. Naoya glared up at him as hard as he could. For the first time, he was glad it was so dark inside the haunted house. If not for that, his bright-red face would have been obvious. Once he had calmed down, the haunted house wasn’t all that scary. Sure, walking through the darkness was unsettling, and it was surprising whenever a ghost actor popped out from a nearby wall or locker. But that was it. The ghosts would never harm them, and the sobbing head that flew through the air above them countless times was just a prop. Plus, it was surprisingly easy to hear what was going on inside of the haunted house, both in front of and behind them. Naoya could hear the voices of Takatsuki and Ruiko—walking just ahead of him and Sasakura—as well as those of the ghosts they were being startled by without having to strain his ears. From up ahead came a loud clanging sound, followed by Ruiko screaming. Her screams, however, turned quickly into delighted laughter. Hearing their frequent exchanges—“Ahhh! Ah-ha-ha, Professor Akira, this corpse is pretty well-made, isn’t it?” “It really is”—made Naoya feel significantly less scared. Wondering why that was, he picked up his second pair of indoor shoes. On top of all that, he was paired up with Sasakura. The larger man stomped through the haunted house without a care for the dark. Whether it was a noise, air jetting out from a wall, or a hand appearing from nowhere, Sasakura barely flinched at anything. When a ghost burst out of a locker with a clattering sound, Sasakura stopped it dead in its tracks with a single glare, and Naoya felt genuinely sorry for the staff member playing the ghost. He felt he should get Rino or Airi to apologize on their behalf later. After he retrieved the third pair of shoes, the next room they walked into looked like a nurse’s office. There was a shelf containing medicines and a first aid kit, as well as the headless body of a woman lying on a cot behind partially drawn curtains. On a desk that appeared to belong to the school nurse was a severed head with its eyes closed. A message was written on the desk in red letters: “Please line up the shoes on this desk.” This head is definitely going to move, Naoya thought, laying out the shoes. As he did, the severed head’s eyes opened wide as it let out a ghastly wail. Rising up into the air with its long, unruly hair hanging down, the head swooped toward them and shrieked, “Give me back my children!” Hold on, Naoya thought, wasn’t that supposed to lay her to rest? He and Sasakura stepped out of the room and— There it was. The hallway. Just as Airi had said, there were no decorations on either the floor or walls. At the end of the all-black hall hung a large rectangular mirror. Countless spots covered the mirror’s mottled surface, which reflected Naoya’s and Sasakura’s images as they approached it. Sasakura snorted. “Big whoop,” he muttered. “It’s just a kid sitting there.” Just as Naoya was hit with confusion at those words, another figure appeared, reflected in the mirror in between himself and Sasakura. In the next second, a horrible snarl tore through the air. Turning in surprise, he saw the killer standing right behind them with a bloody knife in hand. The ghost must have come from behind a hidden door in the wall, as Naoya was certain it hadn’t been there until only a moment ago. This was probably where any normal customer would run out screaming, Naoya thought. The mirror at the end of the hall must have made for quite a frightening effect when it was reflecting a guest’s terrified face back at them as they fled from the murderer, whose own dreadful expression would also be visible as he lurched their way. In this case, however, the customer was Sasakura. He silenced the loudly growling killer with a simple “shut up” before walking briskly toward the exit. Naoya nodded apologetically to the killer as he followed. In the mirror, he could see the actor standing frozen in place, dumbfounded. For some reason, Naoya felt really guilty. The hallway made a right angle in front of the mirror, leading directly to the exit. “You made it, you two. How was it? Did you enjoy yourselves?” “It was pretty fun, wasn’t it?” Takatsuki and Ruiko were waiting for them outside the door with smiles on their faces. The sunlight felt overwhelming to eyes that had only just left the dark, and Naoya scrunched up his face, blinking repeatedly. “…Let’s just say I don’t think Mr. Sasakura and haunted houses mesh well.” “Fukamachi was pretty scared.” “Hey, Mr. Sasakura! I was not!” “Now, now. Fukamachi doesn’t have much experience with amusement parks, KenKen. This haunted house was just a bit too much for him.” “Ah, I think I heard Fukamachi screaming inside there, too. There was a voice behind me that was like ‘wahhh’!” “I was just a little caught off guard! And please forget you heard anything…” Just as he had been able to hear the two of them, evidently his voice had been perfectly audible to them as well. Wishing he could sink into the ground, Naoya covered his face with one hand. Their group decided to fill out questionnaires while they were there. They completed the forms at a long table set up outside the exit and dropped them in a collection box. “Well, that concludes our business for the time being, so all that’s left is to have a good time!” Takatsuki said. “Before that, though, I’m a bit hungry. Let’s get something to eat.” With that, Takatsuki set off for the food court. The park kept getting busier. Every guest entering and exiting had a smile on their face, and overly energetic children darted around saying, “I want to ride that one next!” Riddleman, who at some point must have moved away from the park gate, greeted Takatsuki jauntily as he passed, and the professor smiled back at him. Places long ago lined by sideshow tents had been known as areas of hare. Amusement parks were no different. They were dreamlands totally removed from everyday life. They truly were extraordinary. Their meeting with the haunted house’s producer was scheduled for four o’clock. Until then, the four of them made sure to enjoy the amusement park to the fullest. As Naoya had never ridden a thrill ride before, his three companions deliberated with careful consideration about what to take him on first. Takatsuki suggested starting with a kids’ ride—one where passengers rode in spinning airplanes—to see if Naoya could handle it, while Ruiko contended that a water ride wouldn’t be that scary, and Sasakura said they should just put him on the free-fall ride. Before long, the discussion grew so heated that Naoya was ignored, and Sasakura, fed up with the situation, grabbed him by the back of the neck and hauled him off to the line for the roller coaster. The man was merciless. And yet, still— Once Naoya got on, the roller coaster, as well as the pirate ship and the free-fall ride, were all surprisingly fun. Both the speed he could feel throughout his whole frame, something he never felt in his ordinary life, and the falling sensation that made him keenly aware of gravity’s pull brought a strange rush of exhilaration after the momentary fear. It was just as Ruiko said. Fear, at least at an amusement park, really was the partner of fun. “This might be the first time I’ve seen you smile this much, Fukamachi,” Ruiko said to him, after they had more or less conquered all the rides. Surprised, Naoya put one hand to his own cheek. Was he truly smiling that much? He hadn’t really been aware of it. He did, however, feel an odd lightness in his body, as though something heavy that had been building up inside of him had completely disappeared. Naoya had never thought an amusement park would be so fun, and he hadn’t even known he could find such an experience so enjoyable. In fact, when he had been starting university, he didn’t think he had ever imagined he would end up going to an amusement park with other people like this. As their appointment time approached, they parted ways with Ruiko and Sasakura at the gate. Ruiko had her part-time job as a cram school instructor that evening, and Sasakura didn’t seem interested in accompanying Takatsuki on the investigation. Together with the professor, Naoya went back toward the haunted house. Even though it was later in the day, the line to get in still looked long. The attraction only being available for a limited time probably added to its popularity. Disregarding the line, Naoya and Takatsuki went around to the back of the haunted house. “Ah, Professor Takatsuki.” “Over here!” Rino and Airi were waiting for them in front of a thin metal door. Compared to the creepiness of the building’s front, this door was much more office-like and led to the staff room. The small staff room had a cluttered feel. There were haunted house posters plastered all over the walls, and on top of those were layers of questionnaires filled out by customers. On a big desk in the center of the room, surrounded by small round stools, were several large plastic drink bottles and stacks of paper cups. Separate from that was a long, thin table against the wall, where a number of monitors had been set up to show footage from various security cameras throughout the haunted house. They were probably used to keep an eye on customers’ movements. A man in a T-shirt who had been checking the monitors turned to look at them and gave a slight bow. “Ah, hello, I’m Terui, the one in charge of this haunted house. I’m sorry, Mr. Gotou isn’t here yet—” Then the metal door opened with a clang, and a man walked hurriedly inside. While all the haunted house staff were wearing matching black T-shirts, this man was dressed in a short-sleeved buttoned-up shirt and tie. He looked to be in his late thirties or early forties and had the air of a serious office worker in his black-rimmed glasses. “Sorry I’m late! Nice to meet you. My name is Gotou. I’m the haunted house’s producer this year. You’re Associate Professor Takatsuki from Seiwa University, right? It’s an honor to meet you! I’ve been enjoying your writings on urban legends and modern ghost stories!” The man introduced himself while taking out his business card in one smooth motion. Smiling, Takatsuki handed his own card to Gotou. “Thank you very much. My apologies for taking up your time today. I’ve been to Riddle Park’s summertime haunted house a few times before, and I really enjoyed this year’s as well. The abandoned school setting really does drum up fear, whether one likes it or not! I also liked the shoe-finding mission. Collecting the shoes of the dead was indescribably frightening and wonderful!” “Oh no, you flatter me. There’s still much to be improved on.” Gotou shook his head. There was a hint of distortion in his voice, probably because he was proud of the haunted house he’d created, despite his modesty. At that moment, Terui, who had been watching the monitors still, spoke up. “Oh, crap. A customer knocked the set over. Sorry, Airi, but could you go to number four for a bit? And, Rino, please go to number six and guide the customer. She looks lost. She’s just going around in circles.” “What? But our shifts are already over!” “We’re short-staffed; someone called off today! Please, we’ll pay you overtime!” Terui pleaded with the girls, and Rino and Airi shrugged. As the two of them headed for the door that led to the rear of the haunted house, Gotou called out, “Thank you both so much. The guests are screaming again today, thanks to your efforts.” “You can count on us!” “We got a lot of scares today!” The girls responded cheerfully to Gotou, pumping their fists. Gotou watched them go with a smirk. “Compared to other facilities, haunted houses are more prone to issues. They’re dark and filled with little gimmicks. Guests panic and break the installations or take a swing at the ghosts. People who are seized by fear have trouble controlling their actions.” “But it must be fun to scare people that much, right?” Takatsuki said, and Gotou grinned. “Yes. I’m always thinking about how to scare people.” Takatsuki and Naoya both sat down on the round stools when offered. Gotou poured tea from one of the plastic bottles into some paper cups and handed them out. “So, Professor Takatsuki, what is it you wanted to ask me?” “It’s about that mirror at the end, naturally. Did that really come from an elementary school that was closed down?” “Ah, yes, that’s right. My old elementary school had gotten old and was going to be demolished, so I spoke with a former teacher, who obtained it for me.” There was no distortion in Gotou’s voice. The mirror really had been in a closed school. “I’ve always wanted to collect items that might come in handy, as a haunted house producer. That mirror used to be one of my school’s seven wonders. They said you could see ghosts in it. So perhaps we brought a real ghost in along with the mirror.” Gotou adjusted the bridge of his glasses as he spoke. Takatsuki listened with a smile before replying, “Indeed, that could be the case. However, that wasn’t the reason you put the mirror there, was it?” Gotou’s expression shifted slightly. A grin played on his lips, but his eyes were searching. Takatsuki paid that no mind. “The mirror—that was your experiment, wasn’t it?” he asked, smiling as ever. Gotou was also smiling, but he said nothing. Naoya looked at Takatsuki curiously. The way he worded that question, did that mean he already knew what the mirror’s purpose was? Takatsuki continued. “Some of the customers cite that mirror as the scariest thing in the haunted house. But the mirror itself has no gimmick. It’s quite the interesting phenomenon, isn’t it? What exactly is it those people are seeing that makes them scream? The part-time staff were quite puzzled. They said the mirror doesn’t seem to suit its location, and that it’s as though that hallway was built specifically to house that mirror. They’re right—aren’t they? That hallway was built for that mirror. You wanted to put a mirror at the end of the haunted house no matter what. And you wanted to see how customers would react in front of it.” Takatsuki’s gaze drifted to the monitors that Terui was closely watching. Among the monitor lineup was one that showed the hallway. Guests timidly stepping foot in the hall could be seen tottering toward the mirror, as if drawn in by it. Following Takatsuki’s line of sight, Gotou turned his attention to the monitors and nodded slowly. “You’re right. I put that mirror there because there were three things I wanted to test out,” he said. “The first was simply what effect the mirror would have as haunted house staging. After walking through various abandoned school sets, the guests, stepping foot in that pitch-black hallway, will probably wonder for a moment what’s going on. They’ll see themselves reflected in the mirror. Just an ordinary mirror. But as they approach the mirror, at some point, a ghost appears behind them. The guests notice this while looking in the mirror. That’s scary—don’t you think? I thought it was a great setup.” “Agreed, I thought it was very effective,” Takatsuki affirmed. As if to substantiate those words, the hallway monitor showed customers running frantically from the murderer who had just popped out behind them. Gotou watched, looking pleased, and continued. “The second reason had to do with the effect of seeing the reflection of one’s own face. Professor Takatsuki, are you familiar with the horror film Nightmare Detective 2?” “Ah, the Shinya Tsukamoto film about a detective who can enter people’s dreams? The suicidal detective character played by Ryuhei Matsuda was quite interesting. The scene in the first movie where the female protagonist, the police lieutenant, visits the detective only to find that he had actually just attempted suicide was very comical.” “Yes, yes, exactly! Of course, so you do know the film!” Gotou stuck his hand out toward Takatsuki, who accepted the handshake with a smile. They both seemed pleased to find the other was well-versed in somewhat obscure horror movies. Gotou continued talking, once he had given Takatsuki’s hand a firm shake. “In the sequel, you know how there’s the motif of an uncommonly frightened female character who serves as a symbol of fear? There’s the girl who is the source of all the strange happenings, the protagonist’s mother, and so on. They’re all terrified of every little thing. The director made an interesting comment about this. He said that the face of someone who is scared is more frightening than the thing doing the scaring. In The Shining, for example, the face of the wife character is scarier than Jack Nicholson attacking with an ax. That’s why this director created the uncommonly frightened female character. This is actually something I’ve thought for quite a long time. It was the same when I watched The Texas Chainsaw Massacre as a child. The heroine’s spasming expression and wide-open eyes as she fled were far scarier than Leatherface, the killer pursuing her with a chainsaw.” “So you wanted the scared customers’ faces to be reflected in the mirror and to see their reaction to that. But wouldn’t this have the opposite effect? People tend to view the reflection of their own faces objectively. There’s a high chance someone would come to their senses the second they see their face distorted in fear.” “Yes, in fact, that was my intention.” “What do you mean?” Takatsuki looked puzzled, and Gotou turned his attention back to one of the monitors. It showed footage from the last camera, installed at the exit. Customers who ran screaming out of the haunted house burst out laughing as soon as they realized they were outside. “A haunted house has to be entertaining. It doesn’t do for guests to be scared to death and come out only feeling traumatized. If you just want to feel scared, you could go to a real abandoned school or hospital deep in the mountains. People line up outside amusement park haunted houses because they want to have fun while being scared. When they step out of the exit, they need to be laughing their heads off like that.” The guests, urged forward by the killer, would run toward the mirror and see their own faces reflected in it. And there, they would snap out of it. Their screaming expressions looked so ridiculous. At that moment, their tension would be released. In that way, fear would become fun. The fearful experience of the haunted house would end in laughter. “…But I can’t say this experiment went all that well,” Gotou said, scratching his head. “The instant they’re scared by the killer from behind, many people lose control of themselves and run. They don’t even glance at themselves in the mirror. Terui over there even proposed removing the mirror because it would be dangerous if a customer accidentally ran into it.” Terui turned at that statement to comment, “We don’t want any accidents on our hands.” Gotou scratched his head again. “And the last experiment,” Takatsuki prompted. “That was—spreading false rumors, yes?” Naoya looked reflexively toward Gotou at those words. Gotou was grinning. “Oh no. ‘False rumors’ sounds so scandalous. They’re one of the storylines that make up the haunted house. Or maybe I should say they’re a side story?” Gotou’s eyes shifted to the wall this time. It was difficult to see with all the questionnaires layered over it, but there was a poster there for the current summertime haunted house. “Haunted houses went totally out of fashion for a time, you know. People thought they were boring, and who could blame them? Haunted houses of the past were just mechanized puppets that reacted to customers’ movements via sensors. There wasn’t much cohesion among the puppets, and graveyard scenes, ghosts, and monsters were positioned without a clear connection to what came before or after. They were no different than the sideshows of the old days. New roller coasters and free-fall rides were much more exciting. But that changed in the nineties. Haunted house producers came into being and gave haunted houses the element of a storyline. Customers were made to walk through their own scary story, like they had wandered into a horror movie. Eventually, the ‘mission’ component was added to such attractions. Customers don’t just get scared; they have something specific they must do within the haunted house. By giving them a mission, guests become more deeply involved in the story. They become one of the characters.” In this haunted house, the mission guests faced was collecting the indoor shoes. And indeed, having an objective had made Naoya look closer at every inch of the set and given him a sense of duty. “In this type of haunted house, it’s not just mechanized dolls but often human actors who play the ghosts. After all, it’s scariest when people are scared by other people. Our part-time staff plays the ghosts, and they’re all very enthusiastic. Here, look at this.” Gotou picked up a notebook from the desk and held it out. It seemed to be a notebook the staff used to communicate with one another. They had written down things to look out for and things to reflect on regarding the areas they worked in, as well as tips on how to scare the guests. “By sharing information like this, we hope to give the customers even more of a fright. Some of the staff even watch horror movies on their own time and study the movements of the ghosts. But even with all that, the customers’ fear is often lacking.” Gotou looked at the monitors again. Many customers were laughing the moment they set foot inside a haunted house. They made light of the ghost actors or pointed out the flaws in the corpse dolls. “It’s not as though we want them to run away crying. This is entertainment, after all. But we do a lot to scare people. We want to provide as much fear as possible.” “So what you introduced was—the ‘real’ thing?” Takatsuki’s words made Gotou grin once more. Looking closely at the other man’s eyes as though trying to confirm something, Takatsuki went on. “The truth is, I did a little research before coming here. About when the rumor about the mirror started and how it was spread. The first tweet about seeing a bloody female ghost in the mirror was posted on the preopening day for the haunted house. After that, multiple accounts posted in the same vein, and those posts were aggregated and shared in online forums. Looking carefully, I realized it seemed like the same person was posting in multiple places. Of course, there are people who find such stories amusing and share them intentionally. But the person who would be happiest to see that rumor spread is—you, the creator of this haunted house. So I thought, Ah, this must be the work of the producer. And that became a certainty when I saw there were plants mixed in among the queue to get into the haunted house.” He was referring to the college student from before. His voice had warped when he was yammering on loudly about the haunted house being really scary. When Takatsuki had asked him whether it was his first time coming, he had lied and said that it was. But it hadn’t been his first time. He had probably gotten in that line with various friends many times before, circulating the news that a real ghost would appear in the haunted house. “Everything is just as you say, Professor Takatsuki,” Gotou said, throwing up both hands as if to concede. “I’m the one who made the posts; I’m the one who planted a fake customer. Truth be told, the plant is my nephew.” Over by the monitors, Terui looked at him in slight surprise. He didn’t seem to have known. “Everything in a haunted house is fake, you see. Your fear inevitably fades when you’re cognizant of it all being fake from the start. But if something real gets mixed up in there, it spices things up. It’s quite the draw, don’t you think? A real ghost that might actually exist among all the fake stuff? What’s more, humans are basically made to see the world the way they want to see it. If you put rumors of a ghost into someone’s head beforehand, their brain will automatically create the image of a ghost when they encounter the appropriate setting. Objectively speaking, it’s not real. It’s an illusion created by fear. But from the perspective of the person who is scared, it’s undeniably real.” Gotou fluttered his raised hands playfully, then lowered them and sighed. “However, this experiment wasn’t very successful, either. Not everyone uses social media, and you can’t guarantee that everyone will see the same posts. There are limits to advertising, even on social networks. Even if something goes moderately viral, it will continue to be unknown to those to whom it’s irrelevant. Surprisingly few people came to the haunted house with the information that a ghost appeared in the mirror. My next challenge is figuring out how to casually spread such rumors to the public. I still have a lot to consider. Next time, I’ll do better.” “That sounds like quite a fun challenge,” Takatsuki said, smiling and nodding. Then his expression changed somewhat, and he looked at Gotou again. “By the way, Mr. Gotou. Can I ask you one more thing?” “By all means, what is it?” “Why,” Takatsuki asked, “are you so obsessed with scaring people?” In response to the question, Gotou blinked repeatedly behind his black frames. “Why…? Well, that’s because I’ve always loved scaring people.” Gotou pushed up the bridge of his glasses. “Some people say that working at a haunted house means you have a perverse disposition, but I think it’s quite important in the service industry. We safely and wholeheartedly scare a large number of people. This requires a lot of skill and effort. This job is a labor of love.” “But if you wanted to scare people, you could work somewhere other than a haunted house, right? In horror movies or in novels or on TV shows, for example. There are many other options.” “Oh, the answer to that is that I simply love amusement parks,” Gotou responded, smiling wide. “I know I’m saying this to a folklore professor, but don’t you think we live in an age where people are starting to lose sight of what hare is? In the past, people would put on their best clothes and eat lavish meals on hare days. They weren’t able to do those things outside of hare days. But after the war, when the standard of living rose, people could wear beautiful kimono and eat delicious food anytime they wanted.” “Indeed. It’s often said that ‘every day is hare.’” “That’s right. But once every day is hare, then it becomes ordinary. Hare is demoted to ke. It’s not special at all. But that’s boring, so people try to create something special again, something that can be hare to them. You don’t hear the term ‘finery’ often these days, but instead, on special days, people get decked out in their ‘nicest’ clothes. We have all kinds of events now in place of the feasts that used to accompany rituals. Amusement parks are part of that. Many guests come to them seeking the same fear that the folks of old used to look for in sideshows.” Gotou tugged on his necktie. “This, by the way, is my lucky tie.” He seemed to have worn it just to meet Takatsuki. “That’s what amusement parks are: places created to be as hare as possible in this era where people have lost the meaning of the term. That’s why, in this super-extraordinary place, I want to provide guests with as much fear, as much of the unusual, as possible. I suppose haunted houses could be considered corrupting, in a sense. But if you scream wildly and then laugh as hard as you can, all of the impurity that has built up in your heart can be wiped clean. I believe that’s the sort of place haunted houses are!” Speaking with his eyes alight, Gotou looked just like Takatsuki during a lecture: extremely happy and somewhat proud. Takatsuki looked at him, seeming a bit dazzled, then lowered his eyes slightly. Before long, another gentle smile appeared on his face. Looking back up at Gotou, he said, “Yes, it was clear from the very beginning that you love amusement parks. You looked like you were having a wonderful time welcoming guests at the gate.” Gotou’s eyes widened at Takatsuki’s words. Not understanding what he meant, Naoya looked at the professor. The corners of Takatsuki’s lips quirked up. “Today’s Riddleman. That was you, wasn’t it, Mr. Gotou?” Surprised, Naoya turned to Gotou. Had that round, red-haired clown really been the subdued office worker–like man in front of him? Gotou scratched his head again. “Oh dear, this is awkward… You noticed, even with my whole face covered in makeup.” “Even in white face paint, your features don’t change. Also, there’s still a spot of white under your chin.” Takatsuki gestured, and there was indeed a streak of white paint there. Gotou rubbed at it with his fingers. “How embarrassing… Truth is, I actually worked part-time as Riddleman when I was younger. I thought I’d give it a try today for old time’s sake.” “Yes, the guests were all quite overjoyed, weren’t they?” Takatsuki nodded kindly. Naoya remembered seeing Riddleman earlier that day. He had been greeting customers as they came through the park gate. The children had been delighted, hugging Riddleman’s pudgy belly. The affected movements he greeted people with had been both light and cheerful, as though he was exemplifying the hare of the amusement park. “I’m looking forward to next year’s haunted house, too, Mr. Gotou. I’m sure it’ll be a lot of fun.” Gotou nodded vigorously at Takatsuki’s words. “Of course!” he said. Takatsuki and Gotou seemed to get along rather well. They shook hands again and promised to meet for drinks sometime before parting ways. When they left the staff room of the haunted house, it was getting dark. The amusement park was still bustling. The shine from the decorative lights, which hadn’t been on during the day, made the rides and buildings look even more brilliant. The haunted house appeared to be attracting more and more people as night approached, and the line to get in was longer than before. Gotou was probably over the moon. “Ah, it was fun to have such an engaging conversation!” Takatsuki said, his mood cheerful as they walked down a path illuminated by countless lights. Without knowing why, Naoya found himself glaring at the professor’s face. “That reminds me, Professor.” “Huh? What? Why are you glaring at me, Fukamachi?” “…Professor, did you maybe know from the beginning that this case had nothing to do with supernatural phenomena?” Naoya had realized it while listening to Takatsuki and Gotou talk. Takatsuki had proceeded with the conversation knowing that Gotou had set everything up. He had apparently been assuming as much since before coming to the amusement park, which meant he had already been thinking along those lines when he heard Rino’s and Airi’s story. Takatsuki simply nodded. “Oh yeah. I mean, I figured that was the case.” “…Right, of course. That’s the kind of person you are, Professor…” Takatsuki’s lack of interest in taking the request hadn’t been because he was feeling unwell. Naoya had completely forgotten. The reason the professor didn’t jump at a particular case was that he thought from the start that the supernatural wasn’t involved. “Then why did you accept the request? There was no need to do an investigation.” “Well, because you said to accept it.” “…I, I did say that, yes, but if it wasn’t supernatural, then…” “Plus, I just thought a haunted house would be fun. And as a result, I made a pleasant acquaintance, and you got to enjoy the amusement park. Things turned out quite well, don’t you think?” That was true, but for some reason, Naoya felt guilty, as though he had forced Takatsuki to investigate. Seemingly unaware of Naoya’s feelings, Takatsuki strolled toward the park exit. The small illuminated path eventually connected to another path running along a mirrored wall. The glittering, spinning rides were reflected in the wall’s surface, making it look as though a whole other amusement park was sprawling out inside the mirror. Looking at it, Naoya suddenly remembered something that had been on his mind for a while. “By the way, Professor, the ghost in the haunted house mirror. It’s a woman?” “Huh? Yeah, that was the rumor that was spread. It’s a female ghost covered in blood, so some people think it’s Miss Yoruka, and others say it’s the ghost that was originally haunting the mirror.” “So it’s definitely a female ghost? An adult woman, right?” “Yeah, that’s right, but… What’s wrong, Fukamachi?” “No, it’s just…” Naoya hesitated for a moment. He remembered—what Sasakura had said when standing in front of that mirror. “Mr. Sasakura, when he saw that mirror, he said, ‘It’s just a kid sitting there.’” Takatsuki stopped dead in his tracks. Without a word, he took out his phone, and in a few swift motions, he called Sasakura. Sasakura answered right away. “Hello? Yeah, listen, can I ask you something? Kenji—what did you see in the mirror in that haunted house…? Right. A boy? Hmm… No, that’s fine.” As he talked to Sasakura, Takatsuki’s eyes gradually lit up. They were sparkling, like he was having the time of his life. “Oh, that’s right. KenKen, do you have dinner plans already? No? Then do you want to eat at my place…? It’s fine, right? You have tomorrow off, don’t you? I’ll make whatever you want to eat. I have some wine, and Fukamachi will be there, so let’s all eat together…! Yeah. Okay, then I’ll do some shopping before I go home, so how about you come over in about an hour? Okay, see you.” Takatsuki’s voice was cheerful as he said good-bye and hung up the phone. Thinking that it seemed to have been decided on his behalf that he was also going to Takatsuki’s place, Naoya asked, “What did Mr. Sasakura say?” “He said there was a boy sitting with his legs crossed. There were no such accounts on social media. And there was nothing in that hallway that could have been mistaken for a boy.” “Then that means…” In other words—didn’t that mean it was real? Gotou had said so himself earlier. That there was a story about a ghost appearing in that mirror to begin with. “Wow, this is great!” Takatsuki yelled with glee. “You see, Fukamachi, KenKen saw a ghost once when he was little, too! Ahh, I have to go tell Mr. Gotou about this! Oh, but KenKen is coming over, so I need to hurry and go shopping. I’ll have to tell Mr. Gotou another day!” “Okay, just calm down, please! You’re too old to be jumping for joy, Professor!” Naoya tried quieting Takatsuki, who was hopping around, clutching his phone. It had been a while since the man had gone into large dog mode. There were passersby around them turning to look with judging expressions. It was embarrassing. “Oh, I’m sorry, Fukamachi. I’m being childish.” “I’m used to it, so it’s fine—just try to calm down a little if possible.” “Right, sorry. It’s just that I remembered.” “Remembered what?” “That I love stuff like this! I’m having so much fun right now.” Takatsuki’s face had completely reverted to how it had been before they went to Nagano. Seeking out and taking pleasure in the strange, he wore a childlike smile. But soon after, that expression slowly transformed into a different kind of smile—one that held bitterness, one that seemed pained, somehow. “…Professor?” Without answering, Takatsuki turned his gaze to the mirrored wall. The image of Takatsuki standing there was reflected in it. He stared at the mirror in silence for a while, then reached slowly out with his hand and touched the surface. “In the future, even if I were able to find out about my past, the other me would surely not allow that to stand.” His words made Naoya gasp lightly. Still looking in the mirror, Takatsuki tilted his head to the side a little. The Takatsuki inside the mirror looking back also tilted his head. Just as Takatsuki was reaching out his hand, the other Takatsuki reached out back toward him. Takatsuki leaned his face in toward the mirror. Peering into the reflection of his own eyes, he said, “Hey, Fukamachi. Can I ask you for a favor?” “What is it?” “If I lose my memories again—would you remember for me, Fukamachi?” Still facing the mirror, Takatsuki continued. “And would you share what you remember with me? Everything you saw, everything you heard, everything I’ve forgotten?” Though his words were presumably meant for Naoya, Takatsuki never once looked away from his own reflection. Staring intently at his own image, he spoke in a quiet voice. “That way, I can know. Even if I can’t remember…I can at least know.” He was declaring war—on the other Takatsuki, who could very well have been looking back at him from inside the mirror. It was a declaration of his determination to never give up. Ah, Naoya thought. In that case—then I… “…I understand. Okay.” For so long, he had been wondering what he could do for this man. If that was all he was asking, it was no burden. Naoya stood next to the professor, looking at Takatsuki’s reflection. That reflection was staring back at him. “I promise,” Naoya said. “I won’t forget.” In the mirror, Takatsuki’s face trembled. “Even if you do forget, I’ll remember. And I’ll tell you all of it. Everything we saw together, heard together, everything I remember.” It wouldn’t matter how many times the other Takatsuki tried to take away his memories. As Takatsuki got closer to discovering the truth of his past, Naoya would surely be at his side. Even the other Takatsuki couldn’t reach as far as Naoya’s memories. “So don’t worry. You’ll be okay, Professor.” The reflection of Takatsuki’s mouth turned up at the corners. Like he might have been laughing at Naoya, as if anything he said mattered. But when Naoya looked up at the face of the man standing next to him, he could see that his smile was a result of an extremely complex mixture of emotions. He looked somehow happy and yet bitter, daring as he challenged his fate, and yet there was a hint of remorse there, too. Naoya tilted his head. “…Professor?” “No, it’s nothing. Thank you, Fukamachi.” Looking down, Takatsuki breathed a small sigh. Then, looking not through the mirror but at Naoya directly, he shrugged a little. “Well, you’re even more indispensable to me now. I’ll need you to stay at my side from now on.” “…That’s nothing new.” “Yeah, that’s true—you’re exactly right.” Takatsuki took one last long look at himself in the mirror, then turned away. Once more, he set off toward the park exit. “That’s right—tell me about the trip to Nagano, Fukamachi.” “Huh? But I already told you all about it.” “You told me about the mountain god and the festival, but I haven’t heard about all the details of the trip. Like what we ate, what we talked about, whether we had a pillow fight at the hotel that night.” “We didn’t have a pillow fight. As for what we ate… Um, I’ll tell you as much as I can remember.” “Right. Then tell me, please. About all the fun things we did in Nagano.” Takatsuki smiled. Naoya dug through the memories in his head. He remembered most of what they ate. He wasn’t sure how well he could recall the details of their conversations. He decided for the time being that it was fine to skip over the embarrassing stories Kazu had told about him as a child entirely. Then, turning suddenly to peer into Naoya’s face, Takatsuki said, “That reminds me. I kept forgetting to tell you.” “Tell me what?” “I’m glad we went to Nagano. I felt some peace of mind after hearing what you told me.” He smiled softly. Naoya paused for a moment, then hurried to start walking again. “Why?” “Because that old man, Mr. Nakamura, said that even if a child who went to that festival returned to the village as an adult, they’d be chased away. Those taken by the mountain god must be kept away from the village. That means the mountain god’s influence only extends to that village. As long as they stay away from there, the people taken by the mountain god can live safely.” “Oh…” Takatsuki’s words made Naoya realize something. That village’s underworld was contained only to that village. The hordes of dead that chased after them, the hill that led to the underworld—outside of the village, they were no more than old legends. Even if they truly existed, they were of no danger as long as Naoya didn’t go back to that place. And Naoya didn’t think he would ever be visiting that village again. “You don’t have to be plagued by nightmares anymore, Fukamachi. I’m so glad.” Naoya let out a sigh at that statement. He felt as though something had been building up inside his chest since his return from Nagano and that it had just left his body along with that breath. They were almost at the exit of the amusement park. Compared to the brilliantly illuminated inside of the park, the scenery outside seemed much darker somehow. But no matter how dark it was, Naoya didn’t think he would ever feel the same fear he had experienced inside the haunted house. He heard a voice in his head say, “Now that you know, are you satisfied?” He had a definite answer to that question now, he felt. There was meaning in knowing. Their going all the way to Nagano had indeed been worthwhile. That was Takatsuki’s and Naoya’s interpretation of that trip.
Chapter 18
61 min read