Chapter 0
Part 1: Prologue, The God Descending One by One
Ah, that shed? It's quite a mess, isn't it?
It wasn't a typhoon. If it were, it wouldn't make sense that only the shed was damaged — the house and the road would be wrecked too.
It's not due to construction either. Don't worry about it. It's not an incident or an accident. If a truck had crashed into it, the hedge wouldn't be untouched, and no matter how strong someone is, they couldn't flatten it like that.
But saying someone destroyed it might not be too far off. Or rather, maybe it was something.
It's that time of year.
Yes, once a year.
No, it's not a disaster. It used to be the day of a festival. It's not like someone got too excited and broke it during the festivities. There's no one left around here with that kind of energy. We don't even hold the festival anymore.
Maybe we should, though.
Originally, it was a festival to give thanks to the god. The Harvest Festival? Something like that. Maybe things like this happen because we stopped doing those things. Still, worshipping the one behind all this seems a bit much.
Yes, they're gone. Or rather, a long time ago, when a big road was built through this village, they said the god left, saying they no longer needed to watch over us.
Oh, you've been on that road? That huge pothole, right? Apparently, there's no money to fix it, so it's been like that since the year before last.
What can I say?
Right, there are lots of other big roads too. But when it comes to expanding roads, there are rice fields and other obstacles. Like that little shrine over there. It was in the way, apparently.
Of course, we didn't treat it carelessly. The priest properly purified it before moving it elsewhere. So I don't think it's about being angry.
Since that year, during the festival when the god comes down from the mountain once a year. I think it was when my second child had just started elementary school.
As usual, we set up little stalls, hung lanterns, the kids did bon dances, and we carried the portable shrine to the shrine.
Back then, there were still a lot of kids in the village. They wore animal masks from those Friday anime shows and danced to those songs. Even the schoolteachers wore festival coats, and even normally quiet people acted like someone else entirely. Those were fun times. It was lively.
Then, when everyone was heading home at night, saying it's over—
There was a huge bang from the direction of the elementary school.
Well, it was dark, so we thought maybe a truck crashed into the school building. If someone got hurt, it'd be serious. We still had all that festival energy, so we all rushed over to check.
Mosquitoes buzzing, frogs croaking, we ran down the rice field path pulling our kids along.
When we got to the dark elementary school, people were shouting, "There, over there!" and rushed to the gate — which was completely intact.
We wondered what the sound was. Maybe a gas explosion? So we went to check, and a voice called out from behind the pool.
My child's homeroom teacher had just fetched the key from the janitor's room, but they were so shocked they collapsed.
We said, "What is it?" and turned on the pool lights to look — and when it lit up brightly, there it was.
The water had been drained, so the pool was all dried out.
From one end of the twenty-five-meter pool to the other, it looked like a long white hose had been stretched out.
But at the diving platforms, numbered one through five, a finger with a round nail was hooked onto each one.
It was an arm — a huge one.
We thought it was a prank, so we called the police, but they said it was real.
But no such creature exists. It was really big, but it was a human arm.
We couldn't treat it as a crime either — I mean, no one has an arm twenty-five meters long.
Our police and hospital are basically neighbors, so we just kind of left it be. We didn't know what to do, so we carried the arm to the shrine like we would with the portable shrine.
Thankfully, there were still people around from the festival. Everyone looked serious, and we didn't want a passing truck to see it, so before dawn, we dragged that long white arm, slippery with everyone's sweat, and brought it there.
Since then, every year around this time, a giant body part falls somewhere in the village.
That shed of ours was hit too. Something came crashing down from above. We figured it was finally our turn. Our neighbor got hit about four years ago. What hit ours was an eyeball. A huge, round one, glistening. It's weird to say it was well-mannered, but it landed gently right on the flattened shed roof.
Even if you ask what to do, there's nothing we can do about it. This sort of thing is just beyond us.
Well, it's only once a year, and no one's been hurt. After all, it's a god — it wouldn't do something to hurt people.
Even if we wanted to leave, this place is where people like that can't really go. The ones who'd flee are long gone.
Still, I wonder — if that body is up in the sky, how much of it is left?