Reiko stirred awake.
The morning sun barely pierced the paper windows, casting the room in a muted gray. Her chest was tight. Her body, heavy. The memory of last night clawed at her mind—the girl, the twisted smile, the pounding door.
A knock came at her door, gentle but firm.
"Reiko-san?" a familiar voice called.
She blinked, sitting up. "Shin…?"
The door slid open and Shin Kazumi stepped inside, carrying a folded jacket over his arm. His usual easygoing demeanor was gone, replaced by a tight, concerned expression. His black hair was mussed, as if he had run all the way here.
"I heard what happened," he said, kneeling by her side. "Saika-san sent for me."
Reiko managed a weak smile. "You came…"
"Of course," he said, his brow furrowed. "You look like hell."
She laughed weakly, then shivered. "It wasn't a dream, Shin. I saw her. A girl… she called herself Kasumi."
Shin's eyes narrowed. "Kasumi?"
She nodded, hands clenched in the sheets. "She wasn't alive. Or if she was… she wasn't human anymore."
A heavy silence fell between them.
Shin finally broke it. "Then we need to find out who she is. Before she finds you again."
Reiko hesitated. Her locket—still cold against her skin—seemed to pulse faintly, almost warningly.
"I think," she whispered, "the answers are in the Miya-zaki Shrine Forest."
Shin frowned. "Where we first met?"
She nodded. "Maybe someone there knows about her."
Shin hesitated only a moment before rising. "Then let's go."
They left the Sakuma estate after a terse conversation with Saika, who reluctantly allowed them passage under strict orders to return before sunset.
The sky was a bruised shade of blue as they crossed into the forest surrounding the old Miya-zaki Shrine. Mist curled between the trees, and the path—barely visible—snaked between ancient stone markers covered in moss.
Reiko wrapped her arms around herself. The air was damp and cold, carrying a strange, metallic scent.
The deeper they went, the quieter it became.
Even the birds seemed to hold their breath.
Near the shrine grounds, a small cluster of old men and women tended to the mossy graves and shrines. Reiko approached cautiously.
"Excuse me," she said, bowing politely. "I'm looking for information. About… a girl named Kasumi."
The old people exchanged wary glances.
One woman crossed herself and hurried away.
Another man shook his head and turned his back.
Only one person remained—a gnarled old man crouched near a half-broken shrine, chiseling away at the moss. His back was hunched, his skin like worn leather. His eyes, however, were sharp and alert beneath heavy brows.
He looked up, fixing them with a stare that rooted Reiko in place.
"You seek Kasumi?" he rasped.
Reiko nodded slowly. "You know about her?"
The old man set down his chisel and rose to his feet with surprising grace.
"I am Takezo Kiba," he said. "Caretaker of this shrine. And the last one who remembers what truly happened."
Shin stepped closer to Reiko protectively.
Takezo smiled, but it wasn't kind. It was grim. Knowing.
"You two best sit down," he said, gesturing to a mossy bench nearby. "Because the story of Kasumi... ain't one the living like to hear."
They obeyed, sitting opposite him.
Takezo wiped his hands on his trousers and stared off into the misty trees.
"Years ago," he began, voice low, "this village suffered a horror that almost wiped it off the map. Children vanished. At first, one by one. Then, in groups. Boys, girls, young ones barely old enough to speak."
Reiko's stomach twisted.
"We thought it was a spirit. Or a curse. Some even said the mountain gods were angry. But no—" Takezo's mouth curled bitterly. "It was a man. A monster in human skin. A serial killer who preyed on the pure."
Shin's fists clenched.
"The villagers searched for months. But it was always too late. We found their little shoes in the rivers. Dolls floating in the ponds. Pieces…" Takezo paused, his voice cracking. "Pieces no one should ever have to bury."
Reiko felt bile rise in her throat.
"And then," Takezo whispered, "my daughter Kasumi… was taken."
The forest seemed to lean closer around them.
"I searched for her myself," he said. "Through every cave, every pit. I nearly lost my mind. And then one night—one cursed night—"
He shivered, wrapping his arms around himself.
"—I found her. Just before dawn. In the clearing where the Miya-zaki Shrine stands."
Reiko covered her mouth, fearing what was coming.
"She was sitting there," Takezo said, voice cracking. "So still. So cold. Blood dried all over her white yukata. Her little hands clutching her doll… like she thought it would save her."
Reiko's eyes burned with tears.
"I buried her myself," Takezo whispered. "Right here, by the shrine. We thought it was over."
"But it wasn't," Shin said softly.
Takezo's eyes gleamed in the mist.
"No," he said. "It was just beginning."
The old man leaned closer, voice dropping lower, like he feared the trees might overhear.
"Three nights after her funeral," he said, "I came home from the shrine. My house was dark. My wife was asleep. And I…"
He choked.
"I heard humming. A child's lullaby. From Kasumi's room."
Reiko's skin crawled.
"I went up the stairs," Takezo whispered. "The door… it was unlocked."
He looked at them, hollow-eyed.
"And there she was. Sitting on her bed. Smiling. Just like the day before she was taken. Same clothes. Same age. As if nothing had happened."
Shin swallowed hard. "But it wasn't really her, was it?"
Takezo laughed bitterly.
"No," he said. "Not Kasumi. Not anymore."
"What happened?" Reiko whispered.
"I tried to hold her," Takezo said. "She was cold as ice. And when I touched her…"
He lifted his hand. Even now, after all these years, faint scars crisscrossed his palm.
"She screamed. A scream that didn't belong to her. It was like every child's death… every horror… poured out of her mouth. And then she vanished."
The trees seemed to close in tighter.
"Since then," Takezo said, "Kasumi appears to those tied to the blood of the cursed. Those like the Sakuma family. She whispers. She smiles. She waits."
"For what?" Shin asked.
Takezo's voice was barely audible.
"For the heir who will remember."
A heavy silence hung in the misty air.
Reiko's hands tightened around the locket at her throat.
"Me," she whispered.
Takezo nodded solemnly.
"You wear the locket," he said. "You carry the memories. You… are the key."
Reiko's heart thundered.
"But why does she want me?" she asked.
Takezo's mouth twisted.
"Because the Sakuma bloodline," he said, "made a terrible bargain long ago to survive. And now the debt is coming due."
A sudden gust of wind tore through the trees, rattling the shrine bells.
Takezo stood, gathering his tools.
"Beware the girl with the smiling face," he said, voice fading into the mist. "She remembers what you forgot. And she wants you to finish what was started."
Before Reiko could ask anything more, he was gone.
Swallowed by the forest.
Shin and Reiko sat in stunned silence, the mist curling around their ankles like grasping hands.
Finally, Shin spoke.
"What do we do now?"
Reiko touched her locket, feeling its coldness, its weight.
"We find the rest of the truth," she said, voice steady despite the fear gnawing at her.
"Before Kasumi finds me again."
And somewhere, deep in the forest, a child's laughter echoed.
Thin. Hollow.
Waiting.
To be continued...