“The people at the foot of the mountain claim the marsh is full of vermin and pests, but that’s a lie. It’s a clean place.”
I could see a faint glimmer between the dense tree trunks, like light reflecting off the surface of a mirror.
“Since you’re already here, why not go take a look? There’s not much for you to do in the house, after all. And I can get dinner ready while you’re gone.”
“You don’t need to do that…”
The house was like a solid black wall backlit against its surroundings. As I turned my eyes away from Itsuhara, I made eye contact with a human figure on the second floor. It was the same child from earlier. He was staring straight at me from the second-floor veranda, his eyes like glass beads. The child immediately disappeared, slipping behind the fluttering laundry. Miyaki, who had followed my gaze, turned her eyes back toward the ground and then briefly toward the dry well.
“Come on, big bro! We’re here anyway; why don’t we go see it?” Miyaki said.
She certainly knew how to roll with the punches. I nodded absently, thinking of Misaki and her own brother.
We exited from the rear of the house, making our way through the woods, thin branches clawing at our cheeks and the sleeves of our clothes. Eventually, we reached the marsh, which was surrounded by reeds. The path was unpaved, unkempt, and was riddled with puddles, the surface gradually changing from ground to water the farther we went. If we weren’t careful about where we stepped, we could easily sink.
A large, fallen tree was poking out from the center of the marsh, like a grave marker.
“This place looks like it hasn’t changed since the war…”
“Which war? The first? The second? Or the third?”
“You need to get some new material.”
“Who said I was joking?” Miyaki said, shrugging. Whatever that was supposed to mean. The cold air transformed into steam, drifting along the surface of the water.
“I don’t see any signs of those poisonous bugs or giant serpents the villagers at the foot of the mountain mentioned. Do you?”
“Maybe they were imaging things. Their statements were all over the place.”
“We don’t know what the god of this region is supposed to look like yet, either.”
I ran my tongue over my dry lips. Other than some vague ideas about some sort of guardian kami, I wasn’t sure what the people here believed.
“I get the sense there’s something we’re not being told,” I said.
“And not just in general—with the Itsuharas, too. The child…”
“It’s the same kid who threw the note earlier, right? I already noticed.”
“No, there’s another child.”
I did a double take.
“Shou is a boy,” she said. “Itsuhara told us he was a mistress’s child they took in because she wasn’t able to have children of her own. But there were girl’s clothes and shoes hanging out on the veranda.”
I stared at the marsh, at a loss for words.
The families with names from one to ten. The way they shunned the villagers at the foot of the mountain. The sacred springs. And a well where they disposed of impure things. It all had to mean something, but I still wasn’t seeing the bigger picture. Was this really the sort of place Misaki had grown up in?
“Now I finally have a place to come home to,” Misaki had once mentioned off the cuff, right after we had gotten married.
Even now, I wondered: If I had asked her to explain herself then, could things have been different? But at the time, it felt like if I asked, Misaki might disappear.
Just then, a thin shadow slipped through the marshlands. I caught a brief flash of pale skin interposed between the dry reeds.
A light, lingering bruise above the exposed knee, the slenderness of the fingers as they hung down idly by her thigh. A sense of dread and, at the same time, profound nostalgia hit me. My eyes subconsciously began to travel upward, even as I pleaded for them to stay fixed on the ground. She turned toward me, her neck, so slim that it looked like it would break, tilted to the side.
“Katagishi?”
I jerked my head up, startled by the sound of Miyaki’s voice. There was no one else there. Crimson clouds drifted across the tattered patches of narrow sky reflected on the muddy waters.
“Sorry. We should head back soon,” I said, shaking my head and making my way across the muddy path.
The sun had almost set, leaving the area shadowy and dim. Darkness seeped from the cracks between the branches, which sprawled across the sky like a spider’s web. I could hear the villagers’ voices drifting from a distance. Even with how close together the houses were, there seemed to be too many voices. I climbed the slope leading toward the Itsuhara house, lending Miyaki my hand as we progressed. But as I opened the gate leading into the backyard, Miyaki and I were both left speechless. So many people had gathered in the yard, which was shrouded in darkness, that it was impossible to make out the shadow of the house along the ground. The villagers turned as one to stare at us.
“Welcome back, Rokuhara.”
The faces of the villagers, bathed in the light of the bonfire, looked like clay puppets coated in orange paint. Their faces were all thin, lifeless, and vaguely similar.
“What’s going on here…?”
I glanced over my shoulder toward the path behind us, but several of the villagers had already circled around, blocking our escape. Miyaki and I were led farther inside, pushed forward by the villagers who were behind us.
“Of course, we gathered when we heard you had returned, Rokuhara. We’re all here, Ichihara to Tohara.”
Itsuhara nodded enthusiastically. The other villagers nodded along with her.
“It was a surprise, the way you showed up so suddenly. But I’m glad to see you both show fortitude.”
“Yes, not like those cowards at the foot of the mountain.”
Laughter rippled through the crowd. Itsuhara held up her hand. A searing light burned my eyes.
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
The light danced ever so slightly as the woman chuckled. She was holding a flashlight, which she now switched off. She handed it to me, making sure that I held it firmly in my hands.
“Does your sister need a flashlight as well? Will one be enough for both of you?”
“What are you planning to make us do?” Miyaki asked, her voice flinty.
Itsuhara laughed and shook her head. The villagers blocking the way forward parted to either side. The simple stonework well now stood before us. They must have led us around in a circle so that we’d wind up at the opposite side of the well from where we had viewed it earlier, next to the perimeter wall.
It wasn’t visible from the other side of the garden, but a square metal plate had been embedded into the ground behind the well. One of the men stepped on it, and the plate, apparently a trapdoor, yawned open. The smell of mold and rust wafted up from within.
“To become family, you must enter and see for yourself.”
Itsuhara opened the door the rest of the way, gesturing with a pointed finger.
“See what…?”
“The god that keeps us safe.”
I glanced to the side. Misaki appeared tense.
“Don’t worry. Unlike the cowards at the foot of the mountain, you two should be fine. We all enter. To take The Lonely God’s mind off its sorrows for a time.”
Itsuhara narrowed her eyes, which were like black hollows. The child from earlier clung to her legs, staring up at me.
“What should we do…?” Miyaki whispered quietly. But we weren’t going to be able to fight our way through so many villagers. Besides, how were we going to learn the truth if we didn’t see what was waiting down there?
“Let’s go in.”
I flicked the flashlight on once more.
The villagers all bore the same smile. I turned my back to them, taking a step toward the rusty iron trapdoor frame.
As I pointed my flashlight at the opening, a set of faded stairs appeared beneath the light. The villagers waited until we were fully below ground level and then closed the door behind us.
“They’re going to open it back up for us again, aren’t they?”
“Let’s hope so.”
The only sounds I could hear were Miyaki’s voice and our own footsteps. The underground space was larger than I had expected. I waved the flashlight around but could not see any walls, only loitering darkness.
As the stairs ended abruptly, my shoes made contact with the earthen floor below. I heard a sound like something heavy being dragged. Pointing the flashlight behind us, I spotted a wooden cell. The darkness formed a flat sheet behind the bars. No, not a sheet, a coil. Layers and layers, winding and curving against one another. I soon began to hear other sounds as well: the crawling of legs, the fluttering of wings. The cell resembled the zashikiro we had seen earlier. The coiled shape inside turned, scales slithering against scales. Between the gaps, I was able to make out the ghostly afterimage of hair, a white face.
“Miyaki, I just had a thought…”
There was an old practice known as kodoku. A kind of curse magic where poisonous creatures were trapped together, devouring one another until only a single being remained.
“I’m not sure I want to hear it, but go on…,” Miyaki said, her voice trembling.
“What if there’s a good reason this creature is alone?”