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V13 Story II – Part 04

Rather than fear, I felt a mix of disgust and anger at the sight of the bodies still trapped. I clenched my teeth hard. Asato turned on his heel and moved through the altered landscape of the Mayuzumi estate, where flowers and vines had overtaken the buildings.

In the spirit world, distance has no meaning. I couldn’t be sure if common sense applied in this place either, and wandering carelessly might disorient us. Yet Asato moved with purpose, as if he had a clear destination. I hurried to follow him, focusing on his back and trying to ignore the surroundings. Staring too long at the red world made me feel dizzy. I was used to seeing the spirit world, but this place was different. Unfinished. Traces of the real world bothered me, like a bone stuck in my throat.

Eventually, we came upon the remnants of a house that still retained some of its structure. Vines with small flowers hung down like curtains between the slanted roofs. Asato slipped through them.

I followed, but as I pushed aside the curtain, a sharp pain shot through my fingers. I pulled my hand back, and I noticed a small bite mark. The flowers nearby shook as if mocking me, but my churning stomach made them still again. I patted my stomach to thank Uka, then carefully ducked my head to pass through the curtain.

My eyes widened. Beyond the curtain sprawled a scene that resembled the inside of a stomach.

Debris had seemingly been absorbed into the surroundings. Countless splinters protruding from the ground had turned into what seemed like cilia. With each step across the fleshy field, an unpleasant sensation ran through the soles of my feet, sending chills across my entire body.

The environment was harsh for humans, but Uka seemed to like it. She wriggled gleefully inside me. I rubbed my belly in response. Suddenly, I felt a presence behind me. I looked over my shoulder, but there was no one there. However, I could still feel a gaze lingering on my neck. I highly doubt I was just imagining things. We were being watched. But there was no one in sight.

“Hey, Asato,” I called.

Even I could sense that something was amiss. It was hard to believe he hadn’t noticed the gaze. But Asato continued walking in silence. As I watched his back, something gnawed at my mind. Asato referred to this place as hell. He had spent what he felt like a hundred years in the spirit world, but even then, he wouldn’t call that place hell. He had witnessed, and even created, far more harrowing scenarios himself. His menacing remark from earlier seemed to carry a different nuance. I tried to recall his exact words.

Right. He had called this place the Mayuzumi clan’s hell.

I realized I had stopped in my tracks. Asato kept moving forward, unbothered. I quickly resumed walking, and once again, the sensation of being watched returned. A sharp, burning gaze seemed to pierce the back of my neck. I turned around, but again, there was no one there.

I continued walking. Even with my back turned, the presence did not return. Looking back would only reveal a desolate sight. I gave up on identifying the source of the gaze and pressed on.

The sole of my leather shoe sank into a red puddle.

Splash.

The child whimpered. I turned sharply and caught a glimpse of a white figure darting away.

It sank into the sea of debris, leaving a dirty white afterimage in my vision. Mottled all over, it was larger than a kitten but smaller than a full-grown dog. Its movement was too swift to be human. Squinting, I tried to make out what it was. It seemed familiar. I knew the identity of that mysterious silhouette, but I couldn’t quite recall what it was.

A sense of foreboding stirred within me as Uka wriggled uneasily in my gut. Meanwhile, Asato continued on, and I reluctantly followed. Before us rose a smooth, red hill, resembling a human tongue. I had no memory of such a feature in the Mayuzumi estate. It was as if the undulating walls and floors of the spirit world had manifested here on the ground. As we crested the hill, the land dipped into a bowl-shaped depression.

At the bottom of this flat bowl, something peculiar stood.

“Is that a house?”

It wasn’t exactly a house. It looked like a section of a one-story building had been cut out and placed at the bottom of the bowl, for completely no reason. It seemed as if someone had plucked it from the mansion and set it down there—a bizarre sight. Without a second thought, Asato descended into the bowl.

Wary of the unstable ground, I followed after him. The closer I got, the stranger the structure appeared. While the surrounding buildings had crumbled into rubble, this room remained untouched.

The shoji screens facing the veranda blocked the view inside. Just to be sure, I checked the sides of the building, only to find smooth, white walls. It wasn’t paint. Walls of an unknown material sealed off the sides.

It looked like a rectangular cake that had been sliced. The knife must have ruined the cream.

Absurd thoughts flitted through my mind as I circled the building cautiously like a wary dog, before returning to the front. Asato stood there, staring at the sliding door, seemingly deep in thought.

“Asato, what is this place?” I asked.

Without responding, Asato jumped onto the veranda. I had no time to stop him. He placed his hand on the sliding door and casually opened it.

Slam.

A suffocating stench wafted out. It was sweeter, more metallic, more acrid than the air outside—a mix of blood, decaying flesh, and fat. I imagined blood-soaked flesh and organs. Cautiously, I climbed onto the veranda and peeked inside. The room was dark, but I could just make out the shapes within. Despite opening the sliding door, Asato didn’t step forward. As my eyes adjusted, I realized that it wasn’t that he wasn’t moving forward. He couldn’t.

The tatami mats were completely covered with wicker hampers. Their lacquered surfaces gleamed eerily in the dim light.

The hampers’ soft, rounded lids reminded me of people curled up, hugging their knees. The stench emanated from within them. The room held nothing else—no other objects, no people. I was perplexed. The hampers filled the entire space, but that was all. It was as if these baskets were the only things of significance here.

Asato remained still. But standing there wouldn’t accomplish anything. I steeled myself and slowly reached out. My fingers brushed the edge of a basket. It felt indescribably slimy. The hampers were covered in congealing blood. I lifted the lid. It opened easily, tipping backward onto the adjacent basket.

Thud.

I peered into the basket. My vision was flooded with blotches of white and red.

I immediately pulled my eyes away. I recognized the body part inside, but seeing it lined up in rows like that was deeply unsettling. I closed my eyes, pressing the image seared onto my retinas against the back of my eyelids. Then, I exhaled the breath I was holding. The sickly sweet scent of rotting flesh filled my lungs. I was certainly shocked, but I also felt an odd sense of relief, thinking, Is that all? With my eyes still shut, I wondered.

Why were there so many of these things here?

Inside the basket, packed tightly like freshly caught fish, were women’s pale legs.

All the legs had been severed below the knees.

The cuts were rough, as if someone had struggled with a poor-quality blade, dragging it back and forth. The stiff toes were curled, but the skin still looked fresh, as though the owner had been alive just moments ago. Even the fine hairs remained intact and lovely. But the flesh gave off the smell of putrefaction. There were a lot of inconsistencies. These legs were undoubtedly a product of the spirit world.

Asato crossed his arms and studied my face rather than the legs. “Odagiri, you seem worse than before. It might not be my place to say this, but it would be worth reflecting on how your past self would view your current actions. Even I find this sight appalling. What happened to you, Odagiri Tsutomu?”

“Really? These are just products of the spirit world, aren’t they?” I replied. “No point in praying for them or anything. Sure, it’s creepy and not something you’d want to look at for long.”

I placed the leg I had been holding back into the basket and picked up the next one. It had been severed in the same way. I compared it with the others. The cuts were identical, and the toenail shapes matched. It was clear. All the legs in the basket were the same. Normally, a person only has one left leg. These weren’t real legs but replicas made by the spirit world. The question was, what were these imitations based on?