“All right, you can come on out now!”
Mio set the carrier down on the floor and opened it. A dog with a brown tail burst out of the case, free at last.
The mere sight of the roll of neck fat around the red collar was enough to charm Mio. It reminded her of Roku, the Shiba Inu her family had kept when she was a little girl. Her mother had been distraught after they lost Roku, and she swore never to go through that kind of sadness again, so they didn’t get another pet. Mio had always hoped to have a dog of her own again once she was a working adult.
Of course, this dog was entirely ignorant of all this, but it remained notably calm for a meeting with two strangers, not wary of Mio or Kaname at all.
It was a very friendly-looking mini Shiba with big round eyes.
“What’s its name?” Mio asked.
“Hatch,” said Kaname.
If the family he’d borrowed the dog from was in the complex, then perhaps the smell of similar building materials put Hatch at ease, even if the actual surroundings were different. To Mio’s surprise, Kaname seemed knowledgeable about handling a dog and treated it very naturally. Hatch trotted over to his hand and buried its snout in the palm. It did not seem concerned about him at all.
While Mio wasn’t exactly beaming, there was something about the way Kaname interacted with Hatch that made her feel warm inside. When they’d reunited at her college in Kanazawa, he’d worn that same collared shirt, and Mio had been prepared to believe he was immortal. However, close inspection revealed that Kaname had aged since their high school days. He still looked totally at home in the uniform, but there was something more reassuring and confident about him now.
Where did he come from, and who was he really?
Unsurprisingly, the apartment Kaname rented was sparse to the extreme. The only signs that someone lived here were the bedding, and a toothbrush and facial cleanser by the sink. There wasn’t even a refrigerator in the kitchen. Thankfully, Kaname had made preparations for Hatch: He’d gotten the dog’s food from the owner and set up a potty area, too.
Seeing the toothbrush and facial foam in front of the mirror gave Mio a strange feeling. She was strangely impressed that someone who seemed so unalive had basic biological habits. This glow of admiration filled her as she stared around the empty room.
“I had the movers bring in a bed and curtains for the apartment I thought you might use, Miss Harano. Though you could also use one of the units that’s still furnished.”
“Still furnished?”
“Yeah. A bunch of the families here basically got up and left in the middle of the night. But I wasn’t sure you’d want to sleep in the bed a stranger left behind.”
This situation was growing more unsettling, and Mio refrained from comment. Kaname stood, holding the puppy. Hatch licked at his fingers. Having determined that the dog wouldn’t run away, he headed for the door with the dog in his hands, no longer bothering with the carrier.
“Let’s take a look at one more place for today.”
Kaname led Mio to the top floor of north building.
A placard that read Sawatari and a wreath of dry flowers hung on the door. Dead petals and leaves littered the floor beneath.
Kaname already had the key, and he opened the door to the Sawatari residence.
The moment Mio set foot inside, she gasped reflexively.
It was an incredibly tasteful and fashionable home, like something out of a magazine photo shoot. The art on the walls, the beautiful wooden coat rack, table, and chairs. A refrigerator with a pristine, unmarked surface. And the rooms were so spacious. Clearly, this was a special unit with a different layout and specifications from the others.
Kaname let Hatch down. The dog yipped.
What was it about this place? The picture-perfect interior only made it creepier that no one was around, particularly because Mio normally wouldn’t enter a stranger’s house without permission.
“Where are the people who live here?”
“Either dead or gone. They’re saying the missing wife might have something to do with it.”
Kaname spread his arms like bird wings, closed his eyes, and took a deep, slow breath, just as he had in the elementary school library.
“They’ve been here, too. I can’t be sure if the rumor is accurate or not, but they worked their way into the school committees and housewife cliques, slowly foisting their darkness on others.”
The phrase foisting their darkness stimulated Mio’s memories.
Her phone, back in high school. All the frightening LINE messages. The harassing words that never stopped. The waves of guilt because she unhealthily agreed that she bore some fault for what he said…
“They try to foist their darkness on others,” Kaname had told her while his eyes remained fixed on Kanbara. “Family massacre. You slip in through a single family member, ensorcelling them while you wriggle your way in among the group. You browbeat them with your logic, convince the other party they’re in the wrong, and impose your supposedly correct will upon them. Once you’re in among the family, it’s only a matter of time until they’re all under your control…”
At the time, the phrase “family massacre” sounded preposterous, unbelievable even. However, hearing Kaname talk about it again in this empty, recently lived-in apartment gave them an eerily realistic weight. Had this family suffered the way Mio had under Kanbara’s pressure?
“What do you mean, ‘foist their darkness’? Are you saying that wife did the same things Itta Kanbara did to me?”
It was getting dark outside. This probably wasn’t Kaname’s first time in this apartment. He opened a door by the entryway, revealing a shoe rack with a breaker box above it. Kaname opened the breaker box while Mio noticed there were children’s sneakers on the rack. So this family had a child. It made her heart hurt.
After Kaname pressed a switch on the wall, the lights came on. And now that everything was illuminated, Mio finally got her answers.
“The ones I’m looking for foist their darkness on others to bring out the others’ darkness and drag them down to their level. They pressure and trap their prey, sap their ability to think and fight back, and make them lose track of what’s right. By limiting their perception, they can breed their darkness inside their targets and make them unpleasant.”
“Unpleasant?”
“Yes. They become aggressive, attacking other people and inflicting their darkness upon them. In this way, they spread death and darkness to those around the original targets, and the damage continues to spread. I’m guessing it’s already happened and played out here at this complex.”
“And ‘they’ did this?”
“Yes. Kaori Kanbara.”
Mio gasped. Kanbara—the same last name as her track and field club senpai. Kaname was staring Mio right in the eyes. She summoned her courage and asked, “That was Itta-senpai’s last name.”
“Yes. They’re a family.”
She forgot how to blink.
“Want to see?” Kaname took out his smartphone, searched for an image, and showed it to Mio. “You know that site that collects info on every home that’s had an incident? Houses where people died from accidents or suicide, all collated so you can see the causes and times of death in one place?”
“…I’ve heard of it. Never actually looked at it, though.”
“This is the site’s map of the area before the Kanbara family moved here.”
Apparently, the site was designed to display a slice of time. There were several candle icons across the map. Each one represented a person’s death. The many rows of candles conjured a mental image of the departed. Tapping on an icon brought up the details of that death.
“And this is the area after they were here.”
Kaname changed a setting. Suddenly, a vast wave of candles appeared on-screen. An especially large one hung over this apartment complex, and when Kaname touched a finger to it, a pop-up listed many entries.
South Bldg, Unit 515. Subject jumped to death from hallway.
Subject fell to death from roof.
North Bldg, Unit 601. Subject was murdered.
North Bldg, Unit 701. Subject was murdered on veranda…
Mio remembered the placard on the door to this apartment. Was this the Unit 701 on the list? Mio almost turned to look at the veranda. The word murder made her feel very uncomfortable.
However, it didn’t stop at this complex.
Smaller candles were all over the map. The arrangement resembled a ritual at a shrine or temple.
Candle after candle, fresh and new, where there hadn’t been any before.
“When that family shows up, people die. That’s the kind of family they are,” Kaname stated.