Chapter 7
3. The Man-Eating God
The forest at night spread out so black that the boundary with the sky became indistinct.
"Katagishi-san. I've been thinking, like with the abandoned school building—don't you think we keep stepping into places we shouldn't and ending up in danger we could've avoided?"
Carefully navigating the path with gnarled tree roots jutting out, Miyaki let out a pitiful voice.
"What are you talking about? We're paid with tax money, so this is the least we can do."
"Yeah, yeah. Doing the jobs no one in the private sector wants is a public servant's privilege, right?"
A small stone kicked by Miyaki hit my heel, as if voicing her dissatisfaction in her place.
"In horror novels, it's always something like the whole village hiding a secret and sacrificing clueless outsiders, right?"
"Sacrifices or whatever... Honestly, besides Karahara, the other villagers don't seem to take it that seriously. At most, they just don't want the neighboring city's police getting involved."
"That's exactly it. I can't believe it."
The canopy of trees hanging like a ceiling rustled in the night breeze.
"Even if you think you're living normally, your organs might be getting eaten away without you knowing. They say the victims have no clear reason or pattern. Isn't that terrifying?"
I shrugged, though I wasn't sure if she could see it in the darkness.
"Maybe a lot of people just don't care as long as nothing happens while they're alive."
"But are you really sure nothing happens while they're alive?"
I recalled the wound on Karahara's abdomen, as if torn open by a beast, and shook my head.
"Speaking of sacrifices—"
"That's a bad way to start a sentence."
The leaves stirred in the wind, torn as if bitten through, and moonlight poured down from above.
"I wonder if there really was a shrine maiden who offered herself to the man-eating god."
"I don't know... I looked it up before we came, but there's no record of it. It might just be a convenient lie added later to fit the story."
Something touched my right hand holding the penlight. It felt too soft to be a branch or leaf.
I shifted my gaze slightly to the right. The black forest just continued endlessly.
The wind grew louder, buzzing like it licked my eardrums. What rose up then wasn't just black, dangling dead leaves.
It was a bundle of black hair, wet and clumped like dried seaweed.
I had stopped walking without realizing it.
A woman stood there, long black hair hanging down to her waist.
Her face and upper body were hidden by her hair, but the scarlet hakama below told me she was dressed like a shrine maiden.
The waist of the hakama had changed color to something closer to dark brown than scarlet.
The woman's hands trembled as she touched the hair hanging over her stomach.
I wanted to tell her to stop, but no words came out.
The curtain of black hair parted to the sides as if being forced open. The center of her white kimono's stomach was marked with blood-drawn curves layered over each other. It was the same diagram Karahara's grandmother had left in her notes.
The woman untied her sash and loosened the front of her kimono.
Inside was a hollow. A black hole opened like the hollow of an old tree.
"Katagishi-san!"
Snapped back by Miyaki's restrained voice, I found nothing in front of me anymore.
The sweat running down my spine cooled rapidly.
"What happened..."
"That's my line. Are you okay?"
In Miyaki's concerned gaze, my tense expression was reflected.
I clenched the penlight between my teeth to keep from dropping it due to sweaty palms, then wiped my sweat against my side. Unconsciously, I touched my own stomach. The feel of ribs and flesh pushed back against my palm. It wasn't hollow.
I steadied my breathing and asked again what had happened.
Miyaki silently pointed beyond the animal trail.
I didn't want to look, but I slowly turned toward where Miyaki was pointing. The woman was no longer there.
The slope visible through the trees opened up a bit as it rose, and I realized we were nearing the summit.
I started to step forward, but Miyaki grabbed my shoulder to stop me.
On the ground, wet with gravel and dead leaves reflecting the moonlight dully, there was something like a large lump of rock.
The lump was trembling slightly. A muffled voice echoed from it.
"Please... I beg you..."
I quickly turned off the light and covered my mouth. Miyaki gave a small nod in the dark.
The lump was a person. Bent over completely, hands on the ground, prostrating and muttering something.
In the dark, I saw wiry white hair fluttering, standing on end—it was an old woman. As my eyes adjusted, I could make out the back of her maroon down jacket and the pleated skirt with a faded floral curtain-like pattern.
No one looked down on the old woman pressing her forehead into the mud without concern for the dirt.
Only her voice seeped into the wind.
"Please kill that woman..."
I gasped and looked at Miyaki. Her pale profile didn't move at all, eyes fixed on the old woman.
"She's a wicked woman. My son is being deceived. My husband's death was her fault too. I know it. She only wants the house my husband worked so hard to build for us. Once I can't walk anymore, she'll treat me like garbage and kill me. Since I married at nineteen, I've served my in-laws faithfully and endured hardships. All I have left is my house and my son. I can't stand her taking everything from me. I've never done anything wrong. But I don't care if I go to hell. So please, kill that woman..."
The hatred in the old woman's muffled voice bled into the night, making the darkness even deeper. Moonlight traced the outline of her hunched back.
Then, something stood in front of the old woman.
It looked like a bundle of straw the size of a child.
From both sides, horn-like branches protruded.
Just as I was about to call out to Miyaki, it was right in front of me.
A beast with no eyes, no nose, no ears, no mouth.
The center of its bristly camel-colored fur split open, revealing a frog-like bloated belly. Red rubber hose-like intestines and balloon-like organs pulsed continuously.
I had suspected it. The victims, supposedly without rhyme or reason, had all made wishes to the man-eating god and were eaten in return.
The villagers didn't care about having their organs removed after death—they were offering prayers to the grotesque god.
The woman in shrine maiden garb stood to my right.
I somehow knew the mouthless beast was smiling.
The woman was looking at me. I felt her gaze pressing from within her hair.
Now that you've come this far, won't you offer yourself too?
There's probably only one way to stop this.
Someone has to offer themselves again like that shrine maiden and make this god stop eating people.
"I—"
A rustling sound ran down the slope.
I turned to see Miyaki forcing a faint smile on her stiff face.
"S-Sorry. My foot slipped..."
The beast and the shrine maiden were gone. In their place, the old woman, drawn by the sound, was looking at us through the trees.
"Alright, let's run."
I grabbed Miyaki's hand and dashed down the rugged slope.
I felt eyes on me. I didn't know if they belonged to the beast, the shrine maiden, or the old woman.
Gasping, we burst out at the foot of the mountain, where a filthy hospital stood like a ruin. Looking up, I saw sheets still hanging on the rooftop, fluttering. Above them, a full moon, bloated as if stuffed to bursting, glowed.
The village at noon wasn't exactly lively, but it was filled with a peaceful brightness that didn't hint at anything sinister.
Miyaki, sitting in the passenger seat of the van, sighed as she looked down at the report.
"No immediate problems, huh."
"I'll explain the details verbally so nothing goes in the records. Only to people we can trust."
I lit a cigarette with my lighter and exhaled smoke.
The unmanned station, hazy in the light, was deserted, but now that the old woman had seen my face, we couldn't stay in the village.
"Aren't you going to buy a taiyaki?"
"I don't feel like eating..."
"Because it's not red bean paste?"
Miyaki gave me a tired laugh.
In the back of the station building, I saw a small hotel, maybe three or four stories tall. A taxi pulled out from its prison-like brown walls, driven off while a hotel worker in a white shirt and vest waved goodbye.
I recognized the man standing still, watching the exhaust trail.
His hair was parted, and he wore a uniform, but the dark circles under his eyes and his thin frame made it clear—it was Karahara.
Karahara glanced at me for a moment.
His customer-service smile dropped, replaced by a blank expression of resignation. With dull eyes, he glared at the station and the tracks beyond the fence, then turned on his heel and disappeared into the hotel.
"As long as nothing happens while we're alive, it's fine."
I opened the window and let the smoke out.
"We're all just muddling through, right? Even if we don't understand, as long as we get by in the moment, we don't care. I don't even know what your last job was."
"Do you want to know?"
I shook my head.
"I'm not trying to verify the rumor that Katagishi is divorced at his age either."
Miyaki's voice, laced with a smile, stung my ears.
Beyond the windshield, I saw the same woman minding the taiyaki stand in front of the station. I jammed my cigarette into the portable ashtray. Still smiling, but that crying mole made her look as miserable as ever.
"It's true."
I closed the window, checked my seatbelt, and stepped on the accelerator.