When we got to the dining hall,
the okami-san, her husband,
and Misaki-chan—with a sad look on her face—were all sitting there.
The three of us knelt down in a line and sat formally.
I spoke first.
Me: “Thank you for everything, even if it was just a short time.
We’re sorry for leaving so suddenly.”
Together, we said:
Me, A & B: “Thank you very much.”
And bowed deeply.
The okami-san stood up,
walked over to us,
and said—
Okami: “No, thank you.
Even if it was short, we’re glad you came.
Here—it's not much, but…”
She handed us each a thick brown envelope,
and a small cloth pouch.
The envelopes were heavier than I expected.
The pouches were feather-light.
Then Misaki-chan, standing behind her,
said with a shaky smile—
Misaki: “Take care, okay?”
Her eyes were watery, like she might cry.
And then she said—
Misaki: “I made some for all of you.”
She handed us three rice balls.
Come on—don’t do that.
I’m gonna cry…
That’s what I was thinking.
I couldn’t even look at her properly.
You’re probably thinking:
Seriously? After all that horror, now you’re getting sentimental?
But honestly…
when you’re parting ways with people who took care of you—
even if the circumstances were awful—
it doesn’t matter in that moment.
You feel it anyway.
After saying our goodbyes, we finally left.
We had taken the bus to get here from the nearby stop,
but on the way back, we decided to take a taxi.
The husband had offered to drive us to the station,
but B turned him down.
Instead, we asked Misaki-chan to call a cab for us.
When the taxi arrived,
the okami-san and her husband walked us out to the car.
To anyone watching,
it probably looked like a touching farewell scene.
But in reality,
we were in the middle of running away.
Just before getting into the taxi,
I glanced back.
I could just barely see the door that led up to the second-floor staircase.
And if I looked closely—
I could swear it was cracked open, just a little.
I quickly turned my head away.
The three of us got into the car,
told the driver where to go,
and we pulled away.
Not long after we’d left the inn,
B suddenly told the driver to change our destination.
He handed the driver a slip of paper and said,
B: “Please take us here.”
The driver glanced at the note,
then gave us a puzzled look.
Driver: “You sure? That’s pretty far.”
B: “It’s fine.”
Then B turned to A and me,
still wide-eyed in the back seat, and said—
B: “There’s somewhere I have to go.
You two are coming with me.”
A and I exchanged glances.
We were probably thinking the exact same thing.
Where the hell are we going?
But after seeing how B had acted that morning,
neither of us could bring ourselves to ask.
We were honestly afraid he’d snap again.
After we’d been driving for a while,
the driver suddenly asked:
Driver: “That car behind us—do you guys know them?”
I turned around, confused.
There was a small truck following right on our tail.
And inside, waving at us—
was the husband.
We figured maybe we’d forgotten something.
So we asked the driver to pull over.
He stopped at the side of the road,
and the husband parked the truck right behind us.
He got out, came over to us,
and said—
Husband: “You can’t just go back like this.”
B: “We’re not going back.
There’s no way we can, not like this.”
The way B and the husband were talking—
it was like they were completely on the same page.
A and I had no idea what was going on.
We were totally out of the loop.
Me: “Wait, what’s going on?”
I asked honestly,
because I was completely lost.
The husband turned to me,
locked eyes, and said:
Husband: “You… went up there, didn’t you?”
My heart slammed in my chest.
How does he know that?
That moment scared the hell out of me.
Not in a supernatural way—
but in a very real, very bad kind of way.
Like I’d done something seriously wrong.
All I could do was nod and say:
Me: “…Yeah.”
The husband let out a deep sigh,
then said:
Husband: “If you go back now,
it’s gonna take you.
Why the hell’d you go up there, huh…
Well, in the end, I guess it’s my fault for not saying anything.”
Take me?
What the hell does “take” mean?
No, no, no—this isn’t happening.
I’m supposed to be going home to a fun summer break.
Panicking, I looked at A.
He was staring at me, eyes wide in shock.
That only made it worse.
So I turned to B.
And he said—
B: “It’s okay.
We’re going to get you purified.
I already called ahead.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
Purified?
Something’s attached to me?!
Am I gonna die?
This whole vibe—it’s totally leading up to me dying, right?
Why’d I go up there?
If it was that bad,
why didn’t anyone say anything to begin with?
I was so terrified,
I started trying to shift the blame—
anywhere but myself.
While I sat there, stunned,
the husband kept the conversation going.
Husband: “Purification, huh?”
B: “Yeah.”
Husband: “So… you can see it?”
B: “…”
A: “Wait—see it?!”
B: “Sorry. I just…
I can’t talk about it yet.”
I lost it.
I grabbed B by the collar.
Me: “Are you kidding me?!
What the hell’s going on with you?!”
The husband stepped in to separate us.
Husband: “Hey, hey—knock it off.
You two oughta be thanking B right now.”
A: “But come on—
isn’t it kinda messed up to keep us in the dark like this?”
Husband: “You guys can’t see it.
B's the one in the most danger here.”
A and I both turned to look at B.
He stood there,
with a troubled look on his face.
Me: “Why B?
I’m the one who actually went up there.”
Husband: “Yeah, I know.
But you didn’t see anything, right?”
Me: “What is all this ‘seeing’ and ‘not seeing’ stuff?
What does that even mean?”
Husband: “I dunno.”
Me: “What?!”
His weirdly vague answer ticked me off even more.
Husband: “All I do know…
is that it’s pitch black.
That’s the only thing I’ve ever been told about it.
But still…”
He turned to look at B again.
Husband: “Even if we go through with the purification,
I doubt it’s gonna do a damn thing.”
B turned to the husband, suspicion in his eyes.
B: “Why do you say that?”
Husband: “Because this isn’t the first time it’s happened.
But… I can’t go into the details.”
B: “We won’t know unless we try, right?”
Husband: “That’s true.”
B: “Then let’s go.”
Husband: “And if it doesn’t work—what then?”
B: “…”
Husband: “Once you see it—
things move fast.”
I had no idea what he meant by “fast.”
But the moment he said that,
B suddenly collapsed to the ground and started to cry.
A soundless, breathless kind of crying.
A and I just stood there, frozen.
There was nothing we could do.
Maybe sensing how off everything felt,
the taxi driver rolled down the window and asked:
Driver: “Hey, you guys okay?”
None of us could answer.
And B was just lying there on the road,
crying.
Then the husband turned to the driver and said:
Husband: “Yeah, sorry about this.
We called you out here, but…
mind dropping them off here instead?”
The driver hesitated.
Driver: “Huh? But… uh…”
He looked back and forth between the three of us, clearly confused.
Ignoring the driver,
the husband kept talking to B.
Husband: “Do you know why I chased after you guys?
There’s someone who knows how this all started.
I’m taking you to them.
I’ve already talked to them.
They said to come right away.
There’s no time.
Trust me.”
B was still trembling, sobbing.
He must’ve been at his absolute limit.
His face was twisted in agony,
his voice catching in his throat as he said—
B: “P-please…”
He couldn’t even breathe.
It wasn’t a man crying—
it was like watching a baby break down in tears.
After everything that had happened the day before,
it hit me just how much B had been carrying on his own.
That was the first and last time I ever saw B cry like that.
Hearing his voice,
I turned to the taxi driver and said—
Me: “Sorry.
We’ll get out here.
How much do we owe you?”
After that, we all got into the husband’s truck.
Well—
A and I were in the back, in the cargo bed.
The ride was the absolute worst.
And even though we were bouncing around back there,
the husband was tearing down the road like a maniac.
At one point, I heard A let out a pathetic little scream,
but I ignored it.
I have no idea how long we were driving.
It probably wasn’t that far.
Honestly, I wasn’t exactly timing it—
my tailbone hurt too much to focus on anything else.
We eventually arrived at a regular-looking house.
Off to the side was a small torii gate,
and beyond it, a stone stairway leading somewhere deeper.
But we were brought into the house.
While we waited at the door,
the husband rang the bell and turned to us.
Husband: “Only answer what you’re asked.
Got it?
You guys have a bad habit of mouthing off.
Don’t say anything stupid.”
I couldn’t help thinking—
Of all people, YOU don’t get to say that to us.
After a short wait,
a woman came out to greet us.
She looked pretty normal—
probably in her twenties.
But what really stood out
was the huge mole right in the middle of her forehead.
The woman led us into a tatami room,
a sectioned-off part of the house.
Inside were three men:
a monk (or priest? not sure what to call him),
an older man, and a much older man—maybe in his seventies.
As soon as we stepped into the room,
we heard the middle-aged man mutter:
Man: “Malevolent.”
Husband: “Sit.”
At his command,
the three of us sat in a row,
facing the priest and the two men already seated.
The husband sat down next to us.
Then the elderly man spoke.
Elder: “You’re the husband from [Inn Name], right?
All three of these boys came from there?”
Husband: “Yes, sir.
This one here—B—he’s already started seeing it.”
At that,
the middle-aged man and the elder looked at each other.
Then the monk finally spoke.
Monk: “Sir,
the one who went to the hall—is that him?”
Husband: “No.
The one who actually went in is this one—[My Name].”
Monk: “I see.”
Husband: “B says he just watched from below.”
Monk: “I understand.”
There was a brief silence,
then the monk turned to B and asked:
Monk: “Is this your first time experiencing something like this?”
B responded with a question of his own.
B: “Something like this…?”
Monk: “Yes.
Experiences where you see spirits or encounter the supernatural.”
B: “Uh… no.
I’ve never had anything like that.”
Monk: “I see.
Strange how these things happen sometimes.”
B: “…I…”
B started to speak.
Everyone in the room turned their attention to him.
Monk: “Yes?”
B: “Am I…
going to die?”
As he said it,
his arms were stiff atop his knees in a formal sitting posture,
but his hands were shaking violently.
The monk answered calmly.
Monk: “Yes.
If things continue as they are—without question.”
B looked like the words had knocked the air out of him.
His trembling stopped,
and he began staring blankly at the tatami mat, fixated.
A cut in.
A: “Die?
What do you mean?”
Monk: “Taken.
That’s what I mean.”
Even with the explanation,
we didn’t understand.
Taken?
By what?
Taken where?
The monk continued.
Monk: “It’s natural you don’t understand.
Now, [My Name]—
when you went into the hall,
did you feel anything… off?”
It became clear that when the monk said "the hall,"
he was referring to the second floor of that inn.
So I answered honestly.
Me: “I heard sounds.
And… weird breathing.
There were lots of talisman-like papers pasted on the door up there.”
Monk: “I see.
You may already realize this,
but there is something up there that isn’t human.”
I wasn’t surprised.
To be honest, I’d already suspected as much.
Monk: “Most likely,
you sensed its presence through sound.
Normally, such entities cannot be perceived by people.
They exist quietly—
unnoticed by anyone.”
The monk slowly stood up.
Monk: “B-kun…
Can you see it right now?”
B: “No.
But I can hear it.
It’s been… scratching at the walls this whole time.”
Monk: “It can’t enter here.
I’ve placed multiple layers of wards around this room.
It’s desperately trying to break through.”
He paused,
then continued.
Monk: “But none of you can stay here forever.
From here,
we’re going to a place called Ondō.”
(Note: “Ondō” appears to be a phonetic reference—possibly a sacred or ritual site.)
Monk: “B-kun,
Once you leave this place,
those entities will appear again.
It will be painful.
But I promise—
I will help you.
So please,
stay strong and come with us.”
B nodded stiffly,
his head moving in sharp, jerky motions.
Led by the monk,
we left the house and passed through the small torii gate next door,
then began climbing the stone steps.
The husband walked with us until we exited the house.
But after exchanging a few quiet words with the older men,
he bowed to the monk and left.
With the only familiar person now gone,
the three of us suddenly felt incredibly uneasy.
We huddled together as we walked,
instinctively trying to stay close.
B especially—
his eyes were darting back and forth,
his back hunched,
completely drained.
So A and I made sure to keep him in the middle,
walking protectively on either side of him.
As we reached the top of the steps,
a large temple came into view.
But the monk didn’t lead us toward it.
Instead, he took us around to the right,
guiding us past it and deeper into the area behind.
There, we found another torii gate—
and more stone steps continuing beyond it.
Before we passed through,
the monk turned to B and asked:
Monk: “B-kun,
what’s it like right now?”
B: “It’s standing upright on two legs.
It’s been following us…
staring at me the whole time.”
Monk: “I see.
So it’s already stood up.
It must be very happy…
that you were the one who noticed it.
That means we’re out of time.
We must hurry.”
Once we reached the top of the stone steps,
we saw a small hut—
much smaller than the temple from earlier.
The monk led us around to the back of it
and called us over.
When we joined him,
he explained that this was the place.
We would stay inside overnight
to have the spirit exorcised.
He told us that there would be no light inside—
none at all.
And from dusk until dawn,
we were not to utter a single word.
Monk: “And of course,
no cell phones.
Anything that emits light is forbidden.
You must not eat or sleep either.”
If we absolutely had to relieve ourselves,
we were to use a strange cloth bag he handed us.
I couldn’t believe my eyes.
Cloth? Seriously?
But the monk assured us
that the inside was specially treated
to prevent any liquid from leaking.
Hard to believe—
but arguing about it wasn’t going to help.
So we stayed quiet.
After that,
he had each of us drink a sip of water
from a bamboo tube-like container.
Then he took some into his own mouth,
and lightly sprayed it over us.
Then the monk told us to go inside the small hut.
We started to enter one by one—
but just as B stepped in,
he suddenly clutched his mouth and stumbled back out, vomiting.
It took us all by surprise.
The monk rushed over, clearly alarmed.
Monk: “Wait—
You didn’t go into the hall today, right?”
Me: “Huh?
No… it was yesterday.”
Monk: “Strange…
I performed a temporary purification on you.
You should’ve been able to enter Ondō.”
I didn’t understand what he meant.
Then the monk’s eyes landed on B’s hip pouch.
Monk: “While staying at the inn,
did any of you receive anything from someone?”
Nothing came to mind at first—
but then A spoke up.
A: “We got our pay today.”
It was so obvious, we hadn’t even thought about it.
And yeah—
now that I think about it, that was something we were given.
Me: “Oh, and the little cloth pouch.”
A: “The rice balls, too.
If that counts.”
I remembered the small bag the okami-san gave us
when she handed over our wages.
And Misaki-chan had made us rice balls that morning, too.
After hearing this,
the monk turned to B.
Monk: “B-kun,
do you still have any of those items with you right now?”
B: “The rice balls are in my big bag,
but I still have the wages and the pouch on me.”
He took both out of his bag.
The monk first opened the small cloth pouch.
Then said—
Monk: “This is…”
He widened the mouth of the pouch,
so we could all see inside.
We all leaned over to look inside.
And then we froze—
gasping.
The pouch was filled with fragments of fingernails.
Lots of them.
They looked exactly like the ones that had stuck to my feet.
That same red and black, half-rotted look.
B immediately threw up again.
And seeing that,
I couldn’t hold it in either.
The air was suddenly thick with the stench of vomit.
Even the monk winced in disgust.
He told B he’d be taking all of his belongings.
Then he turned to A and me.
Monk: “You two as well.
Please hand over everything.”
I gave him my phone and wallet,
and told him the pouch was in my travel bag—
asked him to dispose of it.
The monk nodded.
Then he had B drink from the bamboo tube again,
and sprayed him once more with the water.
After that,
the three of us entered the Ondō.
Monk: “You must not open this door.
Everyone else will be at the main hall.
No one will come here until morning.
And—
do not speak to whatever is on the other side of the wall.
Do not speak at all within this Ondō.
Do not give it your name or your location.
Please follow these instructions
without exception.”
He looked at each of us in turn.
All we could do was nod.
By that point,
we already felt like we weren’t allowed to speak.
We were too scared to say anything.
Once the monk confirmed our silence,
he closed the door behind us.
And then, without another word,
he walked away.
Inside the Ondō*,
the air was cool.
*Ondō — A traditional structure used in some Japanese purification rites, where individuals stay in complete silence and darkness to rid themselves of spiritual afflictions.*
I’d been worried about whether we’d really be able to last the whole night
without food or water—
but with this temperature,
it felt like we could manage.
The building itself was old.
There were small gaps here and there in the wooden walls.
Nothing major—just tiny slits.
It was still midday,
so sunlight streamed in through those cracks,
letting us clearly see A and B’s faces.
But being able to see each other,
while being completely forbidden from speaking—
it was a first for all of us.
I nodded,
trying to convey: “We’ll be okay.”
And both A and B nodded back.
After a while,
we stopped even looking at each other.
Eventually,
we were all just sitting in silence, facing different directions.
We wanted to talk—
but couldn’t.
And with no idea how much time was left,
we could only sit there, helpless.
Time felt endless.
But somehow, it was still light outside.
Then A started rustling around—making noise.
I turned toward him, thinking I should stop him
before he got too loud.
That’s when I saw what he had.
In his hands were a pen and a small scrap of paper.
He showed them to us silently.
He must’ve smuggled the pen in, ignoring the monk’s warnings.
The paper?
It was the wrapper from a stick of gum.
None of us would’ve had actual stationery, of course.
That was probably the only thing he could find.
What the hell is he doing…?
That was my first thought.
But given how isolated and vulnerable we all felt in that moment—
unable to communicate at all—
I couldn’t bring myself to scold A.
In fact…
it felt like a tiny light in the darkness.
I can’t really explain it,
but it gave me an overwhelming sense of relief.
A scribbled something down on the wrapper,
then handed it to me.
A: “You guys okay?”
I took the pen from him
and wrote in small letters,
leaving as much space as I could between the lines.
Me: “I’m okay for now. What about B?”
Then I passed the wrapper and pen to B.
B: “I’m fine too.
Haven’t seen or heard anything.”
The wrapper and pen made their way back to A.
And just like that,
our silent exchange had begun.
A: “4 sticks of gum left.
That means 8 pieces of paper total with wrappers and foil.
Let’s write small.”
Me: “Got it.
We won’t be able to do this once it’s dark,
so let’s ‘talk’ while we can.”
B: “Okay.”
A: “What time do you think it is?”
Me: “No idea.”
B: “Maybe around five?”
A: “We got here around one.”
Me: “Then maybe four-ish?”
B: “Only three hours in…”
A: “This is gonna be a long one.”
Just like that,
we kept writing little things back and forth
until we filled the first wrapper.
Then A started writing again.
A: “[Your Name], your handwriting’s too big.”
I gave a little shrug as if to say sorry.
Then A handed me the pen,
so I wrote—
Me: “I’m hungry.”
I passed it to B.
He didn’t write anything—
just handed the wrapper back to A.
A: “Me too.”
He passed it to me.
Even though we’d all been feeling so anxious before,
once we had a way to communicate,
we didn’t really have much to say.
Then I decided to write something down
before the sun went down.
Me: “No matter what happens—let’s see this through.”
B: “Yeah.”
A: “What if I scream?”
Me: “Shove something in your mouth.”
B: “There’s nothing to shove in.”
A: “Should I just take my shirt off now?”
Me: “Let’s just believe…
that nothing’s going to happen.”
B didn’t respond to that last line.
And after I wrote it,
I kind of regretted it myself.
The monk never said
“nothing will happen.”
In fact,
his warnings made it clear—
he was expecting something to happen.
The truth was—
even though we were desperate for time to pass as quickly as possible,
deep down, we were absolutely terrified of nightfall.
Not just night—
even that very moment,
just sitting there in the silence,
was honestly unbearable.
The only thing keeping us sane
was that we could still see each other.
Just having a visual connection—
that was our one lifeline.
But after what I wrote earlier,
the whole mood had turned heavy.
Wanting to break that silence,
I asked B for the pen and wrapper,
then wrote:
Me: “Say something—anything.
No use wasting time.”
Totally passing the buck.
A looked a little unsure,
but after thinking for a moment,
he wrote something and passed it back.
A: “Okay, then—what’s the first thing you’re gonna do when we get back?”
Me: “Nice. I’m going to Tsutaya first.”
B: “Why Tsutaya?”
Me: “I forgot to return a DVD.”
A: “How long did you rent it for?!?”
Yeah, it was a lie.
I just needed something—anything—to lighten the mood.
But it worked.
Even just a little.
After that,
A and B each started writing down
what they were going to do once they got home.
Little by little,
we started to settle into the silence.
Time passed—slowly but peacefully.
Then, when we were down to the last few scraps of paper,
B wrote something.
B: “I’m going to follow everything the monk told us.
I don’t want to die.”
Both A and I stared at that last line.
“I don’t want to die.”
I’d never said those words in my life—
not seriously.
Probably the same for A.
Because we’d never really considered death before.
It always felt far away.
But now, here was someone right in front of us,
saying it from the bottom of his heart.
And that hit hard.
I looked B in the eyes and gave a firm nod.
After that,
we didn’t write anything else.
But somehow,
the loneliness was gone.
With each of us aware of the others’ presence,
we simply sat together—
and waited for the sun to set.
As we sat doing nothing,
the sound of cicadas was deafening.
But slowly, my ears adjusted—
and I stopped noticing it.
That’s when I felt it.
Something was… off.
I focused harder.
And then, beneath the droning of the insects,
I started to hear another sound.
The more I listened,
the clearer it became.
And before I could even think it through—
I knew.
It was that breathing sound.
I looked at B.
It was dim in the room,
so I couldn’t see his face well,
but he didn’t seem to have noticed anything.
Could he not hear it?
Wait—
had B ever mentioned the breathing before?
Maybe he’d never actually heard it.
Or maybe he just hadn’t picked up on it yet.
A dozen thoughts raced through my mind.
Then B noticed how stiff I was.
He started glancing around anxiously.
In a situation like this,
your nerves can’t help but be on edge.
He caught my change in behavior immediately.
Then his eyes stopped—
fixated on one spot.
He was staring straight over my shoulder.
I saw his eyes go wide—
the whites growing huge.
A noticed too,
and followed B’s gaze.
But it seemed like he couldn’t see anything.
I was too afraid to turn around.
Even so,
that breathing sound kept pouring into my ears.
It was close—
I could feel it.
Not moving.
Just there.
Breathing.
Hhhhhyuu… hhhhhyuu…
We stayed frozen for a while.
Then,
we started hearing a dragging sound—
something being scraped slowly around the Ondō.
A must’ve heard it too,
because he suddenly grabbed my arm.
That sound…
it circled the building.
Once. Twice.
Then the breathing changed.
“Kyu… kyuuehh…”
An unfamiliar, wet sound—
inhuman.
Even though I couldn’t see it,
I could tell it was moving.
Circling us.
I could feel A’s heartbeat pulsing through his grip on my arm.
I didn’t have the nerve to check on B,
but I figured he was frozen too.
None of us moved.
Not a muscle.
I shut my eyes tight
and clamped my hands over my ears—
trying to block it all out.
Just disappear.
Please, just go away—
I kept repeating it silently in my head.
I had no idea how much time had passed.
Could’ve been just a few minutes—
or much longer.
When I finally opened my eyes and looked around,
the Ondō was completely dark.
I couldn’t see a thing.
And the sounds—
they were gone.
I didn’t know if that meant the terror had passed,
or if it was still lurking just outside.
I couldn’t move.
Then that silence—
that pitch-black silence—
brought with it a whole new kind of fear.
I strained my eyes—
but there was nothing to see.
I couldn’t even call out—
“Are you there?”
“You okay?”
But I could still feel A's hand gripping my arm.
So I knew he was there.
And then,
worry for B hit me like a wave.
He’d seen something.
Clearly.
I tried to find him in the dark,
but I couldn’t see a thing.
I carefully shifted A's hand from my right arm to my left,
and began slowly walking in the direction B had been in—
bringing A with me.
I moved as quietly as possible,
trying not to startle A either.
It was too dark to communicate.
And I knew—
if even one of us panicked,
it would all fall apart.
I had no idea where B was.
So, still holding onto A with my left hand,
I reached out in front of me with my right—
waving it slowly from side to side as I walked forward.
Suddenly, my fingertips hit something solid.
My heart thumped hard in my chest.
From the texture,
I could tell it was a wall.
That’s weird—
I’d walked in the direction where B had been.
But he wasn’t there.
Panic started to set in.
I turned and carefully followed the wall,
moving slowly around the perimeter.
But again—
another wall.
I was lost.
Frustrated.
About to cry.
I kept swallowing down the urge to whisper
“Where are you, B?”
With no idea what to do,
I just stood there—
tightening my grip on A’s arm.
Then A gripped me back—
and slowly began to move forward.
He led us to the wall,
then pressed my hand against it
so I could feel our position.
Then, step by step,
we started tracing along the wall’s edge.
When we reached a corner,
we changed direction,
still following the wall.
Eventually,
A came to a stop.
He suddenly tugged my arm—
pulling my hand toward something warm.
It was trembling.
A small, rapid, human-like shiver.
We’d found B.
But right after that—
a new doubt crept in.
Is this really B?
And if I’m honest,
I started questioning A too.
He’d been with me the whole time, sure—
but how did I know for certain it was him
holding my arm?
The darkness had pulled me deep into paranoia.
As I stood there silently,
A once again took my arm
and started moving slowly forward.
I followed.
Then—
just barely—
a faint light appeared in my vision.
At first, I didn’t understand what it was.
But then I realized—
Moonlight.
It was slipping in through a small crack in the wall.
A was leading us toward it.
Even now,
I don’t know why we hadn’t noticed it earlier.
I’d heard of your eyes adjusting to the dark,
but we were so consumed by fear,
we couldn’t focus on anything.
It had felt completely pitch black.
But in that moment—
seeing that sliver of light—
I felt saved.
From the bottom of my heart.
And I felt grateful to A.
Later on, I asked him about it.
A: “I didn’t see anything.
Didn’t hear anything either.
Well, I did hear some kind of dragging sound…
But maybe that’s why—
I was able to keep a clearer head than you guys.”
I remember thinking:
He’s tougher than he looks.
Under the faint moonlight,
I could see that A was holding B’s arm on the other side.
B’s face, illuminated in the glow,
was soaked with sweat and tears.
I didn’t need to ask
what he’d seen, or what had happened.
The night was nothing like the day.
It was incredibly quiet.
Far off in the distance,
we could hear the soft chirping of bell crickets.
We stayed there like that for a while,
completely still.
And yeah—
it’s kind of embarrassing,
but the three of us sat together holding hands—
like a little circle, huddled up.
But in that moment,
it felt like the safest thing we could do.
And more than anything,
just being able to see each other,
even in the faintest bit of light—
made all the difference in the world.
After a while like that,
the inevitable finally happened—
just as we’d expected.
A had to go.
It’s just a natural bodily function—
none of us could avoid it forever.
He quietly pulled the cloth bag the monk had given us
from his pants pocket,
stood up,
and walked a short distance away.
In the silence,
the sounds A made echoed awkwardly.
It was such a goofy, pathetic noise
that B and I couldn’t help
but glance at each other and smirk.
And that’s when it happened.
“B-kun.”
A, B, and I: “…”
In an instant,
our bodies froze.
Then again—
we heard it.
Coming from just outside the door
we’d entered through earlier.
“B-kun.”
We immediately knew
whose voice it was.
We’d heard it that very morning.
Misaki-chan’s voice.
“B-kun, I made you some rice balls.”
Whoever it was kept speaking,
leaving just enough time between lines—
like they were waiting to see if we’d respond.
There was no emotion in the voice.
It sounded mechanical—
like a machine reading a script.
I felt B’s hand tighten around mine.
“B-kun.”
Silence.
Then, all at once—
as if something had snapped—
“B-kun, I made you some rice balls.”
“Welcome~”
“I made you some rice balls.”
“B-kun.”
“Welcome~”
“I made you some rice balls.”
Over and over again,
the same lines repeated.
Again.
And again.
It was not normal.
It was terrifying.
Even though it was Misaki-chan’s voice—
it scared the hell out of me.
The monk had told us
no one would come to the Ondō.
And that voice—
that flat, unnatural cadence—
it wasn’t human.
I was sure of it now—
whoever was outside that door,
it wasn’t Misaki-chan.
I suddenly felt A grab my arm—
and B’s too.
His grip was tight.
He’d heard it too.
The three of us sat frozen,
staring toward the door of the Ondō, unable to move.
The voice continued,
endlessly repeating—
“Welcome~”
“B-kun.”
“I made you some rice balls.”
Then—
the door began to shake.
Rattling violently.
No. No. No.
Whoever—whatever—was out there,
was trying to force its way in.
I instantly started thinking:
If it opens, I’ll run.
Run as fast as I can.
The monk said they’d be at the main hall—
but wait… where even is the main hall?
All I could do was plan my escape.
I couldn’t think of anything else.
Then it started—
BANG. BANG.
Like it was throwing itself against the door.
Slamming into it, again and again.
Still speaking in that flat, lifeless tone.
Then—
it began to move.
Slowly scraping along the wall,
shifting left—
following the outer perimeter of the Ondō.
It would stop for a moment,
then shift left again.
Over and over.
What the hell is it doing…?
As I sat there frozen,
a terrifying realization hit me.
There was a gap—
a small slit—
in the wall near where we were sitting.
And that thing…
was moving right toward it.
What if it can see inside?
What if we see it?
The thought alone made my skin crawl.
I couldn’t stay there.
I grabbed A and B
and pulled them with me,
moving quickly toward the center of the room.
It was still moving.
Slowly—
but without stopping.
I wished even the sound of my heartbeat would go silent.
I didn’t want it to know we were there.
Though,
deep down…
I already knew it did.
I started clenching my jaw so tightly,
my teeth chattered uncontrollably.
So I bit down on my finger
as hard as I could.
And then—
I saw it.
I saw the thing.
Just as it passed the wall slit.
Bathed in moonlight,
its face came into view.
Until now, I’d only heard it.
But now—
I saw it.
Its face was pitch black,
with long, narrow white eyes
floating starkly in the darkness.
And the banging we’d been hearing?
It wasn’t just slamming the door.
It was smashing its head against the wall.
Again and again.
Its face would vanish from view—
probably recoiling, pulling back—
Then—
SLAM.
It would hurl itself into the wall with sickening force.
Even as it smashed its head into the wall,
its long white eyes stayed wide open.
I couldn’t look away.
It wasn’t sleep paralysis—
my body was shaking like hell.
Maybe I was just too captivated
by the sheer unreality of it all.
It was like nothing I’d ever seen.
Even with all that violent force—
its head repeatedly slamming into the wall—
it kept speaking in that same flat, robotic voice.
That thing…
it wasn’t human.
Not even close.
Eventually,
it seemed to lose interest in the slit in the wall.
After ramming its head a few more times,
it continued its slow shuffle to the left,
moving around the perimeter again.
In my head,
the image of it slamming into the wall
kept looping over and over.
My memory synced with the sound,
and I could picture it all in perfect detail—
the shape,
the motion,
the sick rhythm of its self-inflicted violence.
Honestly,
I couldn’t tell you how long it was there.
The line between what I saw
and what I imagined
had completely blurred.
Later, A told me—
after it finally disappeared and the silence returned,
the three of us didn’t say a single word.
A stayed quiet out of caution.
B was paralyzed by fear.
And me?
I was still trapped—
watching that scene play on repeat in my mind.
Apparently, when A tried to guide me back toward the moonlit wall,
he grabbed my arm and thought I’d died.
My body had gone that stiff.
A told me later
he genuinely thought I’d gone into rigor mortis.
As for B,
he’d clenched his jaw so tightly in fear
that his gums started bleeding.
And just like before,
A hadn’t seen the thing himself.
But this time,
when it finally left—
A said it let out a bizarre shriek,
like a crow croaking:
“AAGHH… AAGHH…”
Only A heard that part.
After that second “visit,”
none of us ever truly relaxed again.
Not even for a second.
Our nerves were strung so tight
that our bodies couldn’t keep up anymore.
We all just sat there,
heads bowed,
never once making eye contact.
B couldn’t hold it in anymore—
he soiled himself.
But A and I didn’t react.
We didn’t feel anything about it.
Not disgust.
Not shame.
That night…
was the longest night of my life.
I’d never been that drained—
never seen faces that pale,
never shown one like that myself.
I’d never seen anything like that thing, either.
And yet,
everything is burned into my memory.
Crystal clear.
Even now,
I can’t forget it.
Light began to spill through the gaps in the Ondō wall,
and we knew—
dawn had come.
But still,
we couldn’t lift our heads.
We just sat there, motionless.
The chirping of sparrows—
the distant sounds of morning life from nearby houses—
every bit of it pierced my chest like a blade.
Can I really go back to living after this?
That thought honestly crossed my mind.
When the sunlight finally reached deep inside,
we heard footsteps approaching in the distance.
We immediately tensed.
The steps drew closer,
circling around to the back of the building.
Then they stopped—
right in front of the door.
We held our breath.
A rattle.
Then—
creeeak—
The door opened.
Standing there…
was the monk.
The moment he saw us,
his expression crumpled—
like he was about to cry.
“You all… did so well,”
he said softly.
I’ll never forget the look in his eyes.
They were…
the kindest eyes I’ve ever seen.
My legs gave out beneath me.
And I—
a grown man—
started bawling like a child.
Without hesitation,
the monk stepped into that Ondō—
reek of sweat and urine and all—
and placed a hand on each of our shoulders.
One by one.
From his robes,
I caught the faint, familiar scent of incense.
Something warm and nostalgic.
And in that moment,
for the first time in what felt like forever—
I truly believed we were alive.
I cried again.
Like a little kid.
After a while,
when I still couldn’t stand up,
the monk called for the older man to help.
With both of them supporting me by the shoulders,
we began walking back toward the house from the day before.
On the way,
we passed the large temple we’d seen when we first arrived.
That’s when we heard it.
A scream.
A human scream—
starting low,
then suddenly rising to a high-pitched wail.
Right in our ears.
As we reached the house,
A leaned close and whispered to me:
“Hey…
was that the landlady’s voice just now?”
I didn’t want to believe it,
but yeah…
it kind of sounded like her.
Still,
I was too exhausted to care.
I just wanted inside.
Somewhere—anywhere—that wasn’t that place.
But when we got to the entrance,
the young woman with the big mole on her forehead
looked down at us, clearly disgusted.
She wrinkled her nose and said:
“Get in the bath. Immediately.”
Honestly? Fair.
We reeked.
No argument there.
So the three of us—
still shaken, still barely functioning—
climbed into the bath together.
No way were we splitting up.
We were still too scared to be alone.
After our bath,
we were brought back to the familiar tatami room.
Three futons had been laid out.
I guess that was their way of saying:
“Sleep. First, sleep.”
Somewhere deep down,
I felt safe in that house.
And besides, I was completely spent.
More than anything,
my body moved before my brain did.
The three of us collapsed face-first into the futons—
and passed out like mud.
As I drifted into sleep,
the dumbest thought crossed my mind.
I should probably call the other two—
the friends we were supposed to travel with.
Let them know we’re not coming.
They were probably packed and ready to go,
waiting for us.
Completely unaware
that we’d just barely survived whatever the hell that was.
That their vacation was about to get canceled.
Oh—
and before we left the Ondō,
I’d asked B something.
“Hey… You’re not seeing anything anymore, right?”
And B had answered—
his voice firm, certain.
“Yeah. I don’t see anything.
We made it.
Thank you.”
And hearing him say that—
just that—
made me decide not to tell anyone about the pee incident.
Because we’d made it.
We were alive.
And that was more than enough.
After we woke up,
the monk sat us down
and finally told us the truth.
That’s when we learned—
what we’d experienced wasn’t just fear.
It was something much deeper.
Something born from human darkness.
From belief so strong,
it warped reality itself.
We learned what B had seen.
What I had seen.
What A had heard.
And once we understood it all—
truly understood—
We made our decision.
We were going to run.
Again.
To everyone who’s stuck with me this far—
thank you, truly.
I never imagined it would end up this long.
Maybe, after all that buildup,
the ending didn’t quite live up to expectations.
If so, I’m sorry.
But I didn’t want to twist or embellish what happened.
So I wrote it exactly as it was.
I know it’s gotten really long,
so I’ll go ahead and wrap up the story here.
What comes next—
is the truth behind everything.
If you’re curious,
feel free to keep reading.
But if you feel like this is enough—
then hey,
maybe we’ll meet again sometime.
