“Each girl was kept in seclusion for years before the ritual, and her intended was the girl’s sole companion during her isolation. My father believes it was an attempt to forge a bond between them, so that their spirits would not return to the village to seek vengeance.
“It’s a carefully guarded secret that the girls were being sacrificed. None of the chosen girls were ever seen after the rituals. My father doubted that the villagers were even aware of the truth. They believed that the couple was sent away from the village after their marriage and the ritual. Aitou would then be safe from bad luck for another three years, after which they’d have to perform the ritual all over again.”
“Where did he learn these specifics?”
“Again, I do not know.”
“Did your father ever find out the purpose for these rituals?”
“It could have been as simple as ensuring a good harvest. There was the great Tenpō famine during the eighteen thirties in Japan, and many families starved.”
“That sounds terrible.”
“People have been sacrificed for less.”
“Was there proof that any of the villagers protested this?”
“Only hints written in the diary my father found. The harvests were always bountiful in Aitou, and villagers probably believed the ceremonies were a cause of this.”
“Did your father learn anything else?”
“He possessed a rough map, supposedly of the village itself. I can’t vouch for its accuracy, but certain houses were marked with names—seven in all. These were believed to be the family residences of the seven girls who had been sacrificed, and—wait.” Kagura pauses, stealing a flustered glance at the camera. “Do I show you a copy of the map at this point? Or will your people add it in later?”
“We can add it in later,” Garrick says, smiling. “I’d like copies for all of us before we set out, if you don’t mind. It might not be accurate, but it’s the best lead we’ve got.” Garrick looks into the camera as well. “That enough, Jerry?”
“Yeah, I think so,” someone else responds, and the video ends.
The fog is thicker now, and I shiver at the encroaching chill. Before I can select the next video file, a hissing noise from Okiku makes me look up. She is staring off into the distance, and her fingers curl. Okiku is about to go on the warpath.
The creature is crawling on the ground toward us. It’s a horrible, horrible sight. Long black hair covers her face, and her fingers end in bone rather than with nails. The remains of a kimono trail behind her, the robe slipping loose from one shoulder, which is completely devoid of flesh.
I don’t sit around waiting for her to approach and strike up a conversation. I snatch up my backpack and the camcorder and race toward the nearest house.
“Ki!”
Okiku is with me as I enter the house and whip out one of the ofudas I had taken from Kagura’s room. The last thing I hear outside before I slide the door shut behind me is the crawling lady’s moan, a desperate cry that rings through the silent village, begging for blood.
Chapter Ten
The Eye
At first, I’m worried that the ofuda won’t stick between the two shoji screens that separate the rooms, but it stays up with little difficulty. It’s more like a barricade than a weapon, but at least it will prevent any creatures from following me in. It occurs to me on hindsight that the ofuda could also prevent me from leaving with Okiku—and I definitely do not want that.
The room I stumble into is a safe haven, mostly ghost-free as far as I can tell. It smells of dry hay and is mostly bare, with a few rotting mats, a broken table, and faded wall scrolls. A small, dusty doll in a kimono, still remarkably intact, sits atop what must have been a family altar used for worship.
There’s nothing here for me to hide behind or underneath in case another spirit shows up. I huddle in the farthest corner to wait things out, just in case the crawling creature is still wandering around. I fish out my tape recorder and an empty doll; I’d rather not take any chances.
Something scratches at the door. I can see a shadow moving across the screen, and then a hand presses against its surface, forming claws where it pushes against the thin wall. There’s a definite maliciousness in the deliberate scrape of the bone.
I know you’re here, it tells me. I know you’re here, and the ofuda is a temporary inconvenience that can be overcome soon enough.
The scraping tapers off. For several seconds, the shadow doesn’t move.
I can feel it studying me through the semitransparent divider.
Then it crawls away, its silhouette slowly disappearing from view.
I still aim the doll at the screen, ready to switch on the recorder should the crawling creature decide to change its mind.
All the while, Okiku is quiet, but I can see from the corner of my eye the way the muscles in her shoulders bunch, her hands knuckled against the floor, poised to strike. When more minutes pass and nothing happens, she relaxes, sitting and tucking her legs underneath her. When she does this, I relax in turn, dropping the doll in my relieved exhaustion.