Kunekune
This happened when I was a kid, during a trip to visit my grandmother’s old family home in Akita.
We only went there once a year, during Obon※1, so the moment we arrived, I was already bouncing with excitement. My brother and I rushed outside to play.
The air there was nothing like the city’s—so much fresher.
As the clean breeze brushed over me, my brother and I ran circles around the rice paddies, laughing the whole way.
Then, around noon, just as the sun climbed to its peak,
the wind suddenly stopped. Dead still.
And right after that, this weirdly lukewarm breeze started blowing through.
I remember grumbling, “It’s hot enough already—why the hell is the wind warm now?”
My earlier good mood had totally vanished.
That’s when I noticed my brother was staring off in another direction.
There was a scarecrow standing that way.
“What about the scarecrow?” I asked.
But he shook his head and said, “No, past that.”
His gaze stayed locked ahead, eyes squinting.
Curious, I squinted too, peering way out across the fields.
And sure enough—I saw it.
What... what is that?
※1：Obon（お盆） — A Japanese Buddhist tradition honoring the spirits of ancestors. Families often return to ancestral homes and visit gravesites during this summer holiday.
From that distance, it was hard to tell what it was exactly,
but there was this white, human-sized thing out there, twisting and writhing around.
And the weirdest part?
There was nothing but rice fields all around it—no people anywhere nearby.
It struck me as strange for a second,
but then I came up with a perfectly reasonable explanation.
“Maybe it’s a new kind of scarecrow?
Yeah, that’s gotta be it! I mean, scarecrows that move—never seen that before!
So maybe some farmer thought it up.
It’s probably just moving from the wind that’s been blowing around!”
My brother seemed convinced by my surprisingly logical explanation—
but only for a second. His expression vanished.
The wind had stopped. Completely.
But the thing… it kept moving. Still slithering, still twisting.
My brother stared and muttered, shocked,
“Hey… it’s still moving… what the hell is that thing?”
He clearly couldn’t take it anymore.
He turned and ran back to the house,
then came back with a pair of binoculars.
Looking a little excited now, he said,
“I’m gonna take the first look. You wait here a bit, alright?”
Then, full of energy, he lifted the binoculars and peered through.
Then, something changed on my brother’s face.
His expression twisted, draining of all color,
and suddenly he was pouring sweat—cold sweat.
The binoculars slipped from his hands and hit the ground.
I was scared out of my mind just watching him,
but I still managed to ask,
“What did you see?”
He answered slowly.
“You… shouldn’t… know…”
But it wasn’t his voice anymore.
That wasn't how my brother sounded.
And then he just turned around and started walking back toward the house in slow, stiff steps.
I stood frozen there.
I wanted to pick up the binoculars—see for myself whatever had made him turn white.
But his words echoed in my ears. I hesitated.
Still, I couldn’t stop wondering.
From this far away, it still just looked like a weird, twisting white shape.
Creepy? Sure.
But not horrifying. Not like that.
But my brother… he’d looked broken.
Alright. No more wondering.
Whatever it was, I had to see it with my own eyes.
I bent down, reached for the binoculars—
And that’s when my grandfather came running toward me.
He was panicked. Absolutely frantic.
Before I could even ask what was wrong,
he shouted at me,
“DON’T look at that white thing! Did you see it? Did you look through those binoculars?!”
I froze, stammering, “No… not yet…”
He let out a huge breath of relief,
muttered, “Thank god…”
and dropped to his knees, crying.
I still didn’t understand what the hell was going on.
But after that, they brought me back to the house.
When we got back to the house,
everyone was crying.
At first, I thought it was because of me.
But no… that wasn’t it.
Then I saw him.
My brother.
He was laughing—like a madman.
Twisting, writhing, his limbs moving in a grotesque dance…
like that white thing we’d seen out in the field.
Watching him like that terrified me even more than the thing itself.
The day we were set to leave, my grandmother pulled me aside and said this:
“It’s better if your brother stays here.
Things would be too cramped back in the city…
And if people saw him, well… he wouldn’t last even a few days.
It’s best if we keep him here,
and… maybe after a few years…
we’ll let him go—back into the fields.”
I broke down. I couldn’t stop crying. I screamed.
Because the brother I used to know—
he was already gone.
Even if I came back next summer,
even if I saw him again…
it wouldn’t be him anymore.
Why did it have to end up like this?
Just days ago we were running around, laughing together.
Why…?
I wiped my tears, climbed into the car,
and we drove away from my grandmother’s house.
As we drove away, my grandparents stood outside, waving goodbye.
And then—just for a moment—I thought I saw my brother waving too.
I grabbed the binoculars, wanting one last look at his face.
He was smiling…
But tears were running down his cheeks.
That was the saddest smile I’ve ever seen. A smile unlike anything I'd seen on him before…
and I knew I would never see it again.
Then, we turned the corner.
He disappeared from view.
Still, I couldn’t bring myself to lower the binoculars.
I kept staring, crying, scanning the fields that stretched endlessly into green.
“He’ll come back to normal someday… right?”
That’s what I told myself as I remembered the old days.
When we played together. When he was still my brother.
I kept staring through the lens, lost in memory—
—and that’s when I saw it.
Up close.
The thing I was never supposed to look at.
The Wriggler.
(Kunekune.)
