“Sorry, I forgot something at home!” I say, turning my bike away from the crossing and straddling it. As I pedal off back the way I came, I hear Aya’s voice fading away: “Wait, wait, Suzume! You’ll be late!” My back sweats under the strong morning sun as I stand and pedal toward the hills. A middle-aged man driving a farm truck glares at me as I ride rapidly away from my high school, dressed in my uniform. I veer off the asphalt prefectural highway and onto an old concrete road leading into the hills. Instantly, the cries of locusts replace the crashing of waves. I leave my bike in the weeds and climb over the DO NOT ENTER barricade, then jog up the narrow, dark path that’s hardly more than a wild animal trail.
…Uh-oh, I won’t be making first period, I finally realize when I get to the top of the hill and stand there panting before the old hot-spring village.
There’s a faint smell of sulfur in the air. I heard there was a big hot-spring resort here in the eighties and nineties. Back then, when the economy was so good you can hardly imagine it now, there were lots of people here. Families and couples and groups of friends would come all the way out to the mountains to soak in the baths and go bowling and give carrots to horses and play Space Invaders (whatever that was). It’s hard to believe. But the traces of that lively past are still strewn around and covered with weeds: rusting vending machines and torn red lanterns, discolored hot-spring pipes and signs overrun by vines, mountains of empty cans and strangely untouched bottles of alcohol, and huge tangles of electric wires swirling overhead like some new kind of plant. There’s way more stuff here than in the little village where I live. There’s even more than in the center of town where my high school is.
“Hellooo, are you heeere?”
But there are no people. Eventually, the water dried up, the money dried up, and the tourists dried up. The summer sunshine is lighting up the ruins like they’re some kind of special attraction, but I have to admit it’s kind of creepy around here. As I walk along a stone path cracked by weeds, I call out, a little louder than necessary, “Handsome guy, where are yooou?”
I mean, what else am I going to call him? I cross a little stone bridge leading to the abandoned hotel that used to be the heart of the resort. The round concrete structure is much bigger than any of the other buildings.
“I’m coming in…”
I step into the sprawling lobby. There are multiple sofas in the rubble-strewn room, and enormous tattered curtains hang from the windows.
“Hellooo, are you in heeere?”
I proceed down the dim hallway, peering around. Despite the heat, chills are running down my spine. I might have underestimated these ruins. I shout even louder.
“Um, haven’t I met you somewhere before?”
Even as I say it, I realize how sketchy it sounds. A typical pickup line.
…Maybe I should leave. I suddenly feel stupid. And embarrassed. What was I planning to do if I did find him? If our roles were reversed, if someone I asked for directions followed me way out here, that would be a little scary. Very scary, in fact. Just like this place, which is really starting to freak me out.
“I’m outta here!” I shout in a purposely cheerful voice, turning on my heels. But as I do, I glimpse something that stops me.
“…A door?”
At the end of the hallway is the hotel courtyard. The skeleton of a dome arches overhead, its ceiling long crumbled away, and below is a round space big enough to run a hundred-meter dash in. Clear water has collected on the ground. In the center of the pool, a single white door is standing there all by itself. Only this door, among the scattering of bricks and sun umbrellas, seems to have received special permission to remain standing. Or maybe it’s been forbidden from crumbling. Either way, it stands there all alone.
“That guy mentioned a gate or something, didn’t he…?” I say like I’m making an excuse before walking toward it. Halfway down the low stone steps leading into the courtyard, I stop. Maybe it’s rainwater, or maybe some pipe is still working, but whatever the cause, the water on the tile floor is around fifteen centimeters deep. I wonder briefly if it’s okay to get my loafers wet before stepping into the water. The sensation of water flowing into my shoes is familiar, though the coldness of the liquid surprises me. But as I walk, I forget all of that.
For some reason, I can’t take my eyes off the white door standing in front of me. It’s old and made of wood. Vines wrap around it, and some of the paint has flaked away, revealing the brown grain of the wood. I notice it’s slightly ajar. The crack, maybe a centimeter wide, is bizarrely dark. Why? It’s sunny out, so why is the crack so dark? It’s really bothering me. The faint sound of wind reaches my ears. I stretch out my hand toward the pearlescent knob and brush my fingers over it. The door creaks open.
“!”
I gasp.
Beyond the door is night.
A starry sky gleams with absurd brilliance. Below it, a lush meadow stretches to the horizon. And inside me, a murky vortex swirls into being—a mix of terror that I’ve gone crazy, confusion over whether I’m dreaming, and acknowledgment that I should have known. I lift my left foot out of the water and am about to walk into the meadow. As soon as I feel the bottom of my loafer crush the weeds— Splash! I’m stepping into water again.
“What?!”
On the other side of the door is the courtyard in midday. No meadow, no starry sky.
“Whaaat?!”
Flustered, I look around. I’m in the same abandoned hotel. I look back at the door. Inside it is a square of night cut out from the summer day.
“What…?”
I try to think, but my body springs forward despite myself. The door is right there. The starry sky is right there. I pass through—and I’m in the abandoned hotel. I turn around. One more time, I run through the door toward the pocket of night. But it’s only the hotel on the other side. I can’t get into the meadow. It won’t let me in. I retreat. My foot hits something hard that clangs like a clear bell. I look down in surprise. …Is it one of those Jizo statues you see around town? The head of the little stone statue is poking out of the water. It has a pointy face like a fox, with big ears and narrow slits for eyes. I stare at it, unable to resist. Then I hear a whisper of wind, like it’s talking to me. I place both my hands on the statue and lift it up. There’s resistance, like I’m uprooting something. A big bubble rises in the water. I look down at the statue in my hands. The bottom is pointed like a short staff. Was it stuck into the ground?
“It’s cold…”
Actually, it’s frozen. There’s a film of ice on the surface, which starts to melt, like my body’s warmth is chasing it away. The moisture collects into drops that plop to the ground. Why? Why is there ice in an abandoned hotel in the summer? I glance back at the door. The starry sky and meadow are still inside its frame. To my eyes, at least, they look real.
My heart skips a beat.
Suddenly, the stone statue feels as warm as flesh. I look down and discover I’m holding a furry animal.
“Eeeek!”
Goose bumps spread from my hands over my body, and I hurl the thing away from me. It splashes into the water a good distance away and runs off, sending up a storm of spray. Scurrying on all fours, the small creature disappears into a corner of the courtyard.
“What the heck?!”
W-wait, a second ago that was a stone statue!
“Th-this…this is too freaky!”
I break into a run. This isn’t real; it’s a dream. Or maybe this kind of thing happens all the time, and everyone’s experienced it, but they never talk about it. Yes, that’s definitely it! I’ve got to get back to class ASAP and laugh this off with my friends. That’s all I can think of as I flee back the way I came.