Editing Phenomeno:Case 01 (section)

====6====

"In short, it was just a schema."

It was on an evening, about five days later.

Krishna-san was talking to me in the Beatnik club room at the university.

"Or rather, a reverse schema. You see, that house makes people uneasy."

Krishna-san and I were facing each other in the clubroom, with the beautiful evening sun shining through..

"The house...makes people uneasy?" I repeated like a fool, and Krishna nodded in confirmation.

"In the past, Ikaigabuchi investigated similar places too— there are many reported cases around the world where the structure of a building causes strange psychological changes in the people who live there. Some of them turn into murder scenes, and there have been many cases of people who lived there turning to crime. There's no actual scientific proof for the correlations, but I'm of the opinion that they exist. People's minds, after all, are unstable things that can be manipulated in any direction by the slightest load."

"W-Wait a second. What exactly do you mean by that?"

"Basically, that building wasn't built for people."

Those words sent a chill through me like I was gripped by the heart.

"I'll avoid saying their name here. But the architect who built that building was a promising young man who had won several architectural awards since his university days."

As she spoke in remembrance, Krishna-san was illuminated by the golden sunlight, and her beautiful straight-bobbed black hair glittered.

"He was supposedly a very serious person. Maybe too serious. He was the type of person that wondered what buildings are—and he would lose sleep pondering over that. Above all he loved seeing his clients happy, so he put his ingenuity to the test. One day, however, he realized the futility that arose when one person asked him for a different design, and he watched the house he'd put his blood and soul into demolished in the name of 'renovation.' Families change. Preferences change. It's an inevitability in life that can't be avoided, but he couldn't bear it."

—''If you took care of it properly, it would last over a hundred years.''
—''Sometimes, people should adapt to the building.''

"Leaving behind those words, he vanished from that atelier one day. His family reported him missing, but he was never seen again and was eventually declared dead a few years later. That was over thirty years ago. That atelier was his final work, and had at some point been dubbed 'The Wish-fulfilling House.'" 

Krishna-san pointed out the third-floor window, to a visible residential area.

"This country tossed aside countless traditions with the Westernization of the Meiji era. One of these traditions, I believe, is housing. Tiled roofs became scarcer over the years, and the number of buildings that can be lived in and passed down through several generations has become rare. We have entered an age of mass production and mass consumption. We weren't inheriting treasures anymore, believing instead that you could reset life every few decades. That way, we could satisfy the economic activities of supply and demand. But I can't help but feel that this is weakening something that was inherently important to the people of this country."

That story made me recall something.

My father said something similar.

It takes thirty years to grow one strong, healthy tree. And yet, the Japanese lumber industry found itself in danger of going out of business in the face of massive imports of cheap lumber from emerging economies. It wasn't that he was worried about his job. He was afraid that the idea—that you could get an unlimited amount of cheap wood—would become ingrained in the minds of the people of this country. In the past, people would pray to the gods of forests, cut trees while offering gratitude towards them, then carefully built houses with that wood. Whenever they rebuilt, they tried to reuse the original wood whenever possible. Even on this earthquake-riddled island nation, Houryuuji temple<ref> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/H%C5%8Dry%C5%AB-ji</ref> has retained its majestic appearance even after a thousand years. He said that the skill of the carpenters who understood the finest details and characteristics of the wood was, of course, amazing, but what was more important was their reverence toward nature's gifts.

I always agonized over having been born into a family whose business dealt with lumber.

Did I take care of the buildings I lived in as I grew up? Did I ever think about the feelings of those who built them? I thought of the construction sites for renovation and new buildings I saw every day within this grand city, and wondered if a day would ever come when his wish would be fulfilled.

According to Krishna-san, everything originated from the design of that house, which was the intent of the architect. When an architectural friend of Krishna-san took a look at the house, they noted that while it looked simple, it used extremely high-level techniques. Even the rattling of the house was due to the fact that the beams and other structural elements had some mechanisms in them to make the structure squeak, in order to protect the building from wind, rain and earthquakes.

"The meaningful space under the stairs is the center-point of a sturdily built house. The kitchen, which gets overused the most, was deliberately omitted. The living spaces were deliberately cut off from one another. It was certainly a house that was built to last."

Krishna-san mumbled as she pushed her red-framed glasses up.

"Normally, houses should revolve around the inhabitants, but not in this case. The inhabitants inevitably begin to feel like the house was built for something other than themselves. This causes a disturbance in the mind’s equilibrium. What do you think would happen when a boy who'd just recently arrived in Tokyo with few friends, decides to live there?"

"So, in other words, it had nothing to do with ghosts?"

"Indeed, you're probably much more mentally fatigued than you realize, having moved to a city alone and all. Then there was that sound. You must have endured it at first, despite feeling afraid. But eventually, you reached a limit, and then what do you think a person would do?" 

Under her glasses, Krishna-san gazed at me with her big eyes. 

"They create a reason to escape from their fears."

"Create...a reason?"

"Yes. They create a reason for the sounds. In other words, you were subconsciously carving numbers into the walls of the house at night."

"But—"

I was speechless, and Krishna-san leaned in closer.

"Think about it, Nagi-kun. Where does fear come from? It comes from the unknown. That’s why people study and learn. They research inexplicable things to escape from the fear of the unknown. All human wisdom has been built up to escape fear. Cooking developed out of fear of starvation, clothing developed out of fear of external temperatures, and buildings and weapons developed out of fear of external enemies. Everything began with human fears. You thought there was an inexplicable sound at night. However, no matter how much you searched the house, you couldn't find the source of the noise. Of course not. You'd have to know that the house was deliberately designed to make sounds, but you had no way of knowing that. So then what did you do? Cornered, you created a reason for the sounds. In other words, a reverse schema."

Is that even possible?

No—it had to be. Otherwise, how would the number "4" ("四") have been carved into the back of a shoe I'd been wearing all along? I was the one wearing it, so it had to have been me.

My lower body was trembling. Another self acting independently of my will. No, I was terrified of the fact that I was not in full control of all my functions.

"Well—"

Krishna-san sat back down and sighed. 

"It was also my fault for knowing there was such a property nearby, and neglecting it. I’m sorry," she said, as she bowed her bobbed head, which flustered me.

"No, no, no, please don’t. It all started with me being greedy because I wanted to skimp on living expenses and didn't immediately move out. Please raise your head," I frantically said.

"Mmhmm, it was your fault," she nodded readily. "There are no shortcuts for granting wishes."

I had no excuse at all, and I just hung my head.

However, I realized there was one question that was still unanswered.

"Hm, wait a second? Then why were the numbers counting down?"

Krishna-san shook her head, saying ‘I don’t know.’

"Huh? You don't know?" When I asked back, Krishna-san’s big eyes glimmered with amusement for some reason.

"I don't know. I don't know, but, I think you probably carved a '10' ("十") on the wall."

"A '10' ("十")? Not a '7' ("七")?"

"Right, the number '10' ("十"). But maybe it wasn't meant to be a number to begin with. It could have been anything for you. Carving anything on the wall as the source of the sounds would have alleviated your fear. But here's where a certain coincidence occurred, which was the cause of this incident. There was an accidental scratch on the spot where you carved, right from the start. You subconsciously remembered carving '10' ("十") somewhere. Yet when you woke up, it overlapped with the scratch that was originally there to create '7' ("七"). And that was what gave birth to something else inside you—a 'ghost'."

...Ahh.

I recalled the first time I saw the numbers, the feeling of uncontrollable anxiety. It was the feeling of knowing that something was happening that I couldn't cope with or understand.

"After that, you continued carving numbers into the wall in accordance with the sound you heard after sleeping. The countdown was probably because of your subconscious desire. If the numbers went up, they would go on forever. I think it was a hope that somewhere along the line it would end one day." Krishna-san then added with a mischievous look on her face, "But you're quite simple. If the countdown had truly finished, you may have ended your life. I'm glad we made it on time."

And with that, she showed me a soft smile for the first time.

"Alright? I hope you've learned your lesson to not enter the world of ghosts out of pure curiosity. And you should respect all beings as well as the living. That's the main goal of Ikaigabuchi, after all."

And the Krishna-san who said such things with complete seriousness, was, as I had imagined, a pure and straightforward person.

Although—

She had a far more moe-like character look than that of a father or big brother.

   ◯

And with that, the complex, tangled and inexplicable threads had been unraveled.

According to Krishna-san, she'd realized that the structure of the building caused anxiety in the psyche of its inhabitants the moment I made my first post. In an effort to keep it under wraps, she indirectly tried to tell me through Karasu-san—but Karasu-san was pretty careless to begin with, and she became drunk on top of that, so the important message never got across to me, which is why things had escalated to this point.

In any case, everything had been solved, so it was alright.

''"I'll give you a warning, though."'' As I was leaving the house, Krishna-san had told me. ''"You don't seem to have much tolerance for this field. Maybe I shouldn't be saying it as an administrator for an occult site, but you shouldn't delve into the occult genre too much. At the very least, make some friends in Tokyo you can confide in, get a girlfriend, and construct a proper, solid identity before you dabble in the occult as a hobby. And especially— don't get into it like that girl named Yoishi."''

...Which sounded about right.

As Krishna-san had said, Yoishi was abnormal. She had, how to put it, it was as if she had her feet planted firmly on the other side. Her bizarre level of focus on the paranormal was probably what helped shape those urban legends.

Stepping out of the western club building, I was met with an extraordinarily beautiful sunset.

The clear orange color shone straight to the depths of my soul.

Damn.

My tear glands had weakened completely after this incident, and I was about to burst into tears again out of of thankfulness for the peace I had gained. But with a gulp, I managed to hold back the tears. There were a lot of students about, and beyond the gate of the western club building was the affiliated high school. There were many high school girls going home as well. I didn't want to embarrass myself as a university student.

Just then—

I suddenly noticed one of them was staring at me.

She was a slender girl with beautiful black hair and fair skin. Her uniformed figure was dazzling, and the way she stood there made her strangely stand out from the rest of the world...

"Wait...what?" I eventually realized that I recognized the beautiful girl, and I couldn't restrain myself from running over to her. "Are you, by any chance, Yoishi?"

The girl then turned her glass bead-like eyes towards me.

"Oh, it's you."

Judging from her sleepy reply, she apparently wasn't staring at me.

Yoishi, dressed in her school uniform, stood out in a different way, partly because of her looks. As ever, she was someone far removed from the concept of ‘ordinariness’.

"Yo, how unexpected. You attend our affiliated school? What year are you in?" I spoke to her with a big smile on my face.

"That has nothing to do with you."

Yoishi's response was quite cold.

There was not a hint of that vitality-filled, ecstatic look in her eyes when she faced the paranormal.

"I hadn't come to school in a while—looks like I shouldn't have come at all," she muttered with a disgusted expression, but I noticed she didn't have the irritating odor from before. It seemed she'd taken a bath. Glossy black hair, an ironed white blouse, and a black tie. I narrowed my eyes as I gazed at the contrast, and said, "Pretty good."

"What is?"

"Ah, it’s better for you to live clean and dressed like that. And you look good in that uniform."

However, Yoishi turned her back to me, saying, "How absurd". 

I intended to praise her, but it apparently just annoyed her.

"If you have nothing to say, then I'm going."

She turned on her heel, and I hurriedly stopped her.

"You were staring over there, did you want something from Krishna-san?"

"—Krishna." She reacted to that name, and her glass bead-like eyes immediately became full of life. "I see—then Ikaigabuchi is here."

As usual, she was very responsive to anything occult-related.

I then got carried away and dared to drive the conversation in that direction.

"I owe you a lot too. I was told all about that house. Didn't know something like delirium over a building even existed. I completely freaked out when I learned the truth."

I was probably on a high after having been freed from my bottled-up anxiety. I kept on rambling. I was babbling on and on. Everything I'd heard from Krishna-san, about the truth of the incident. I talked about the architecture of the house, the regret of the architect who disappeared, and even the housing problems that Japan was facing today, and so on.

However, Yoishi's reaction was worse than I'd expected.

Without turning towards me, she muttered emotionlessly, "That's good to hear," and walked away. 

I was weirdly bothered by her somewhat lonely, slender back, that looked as if it would fly away if someone blew on it, so I followed her.

"You're looking kinda down, what's up? Is something still bothering you?"

The moment I said that, I remembered.

Come to think of it, that day, she said something to me at the house. 

『Did you notice?』

...Right. What did she notice back then?

When I asked her that, she halted in her tracks.

She slowly turned around and answered with another question.

"Do you really want to know?"

Those cold black eyes were going to swallow me—

I heard something inside me say, don’t do it.

From here on was a story you shouldn’t know, it warned.

"You can still turn back," said Yoishi. "If you peek from this side, you’ll end up being seen by the other side as well – It’s that kind of story."

Those words, also spoken by Krishna-san, gave me goosebumps once more.

But—

I wonder why.

At this moment, a bizarre sense of excitement assailed me. I wanted to view the world as she did. I wanted to stand where she stood. I wanted to know the secret of how her words would always shake the world I believed in so much.

"I'll listen. So tell me," I said, and the moment I did, either my mind was playing tricks on me, or did Yoishi seem to have a slightly forlorn expression on her face?

However—

I would only later realize that this was the turning point.

A bizarre, grotesque, irredeemable story about wandering through the darkness of humanity began right here.

The journey around the boundary between this world and that one -- the journey around "Ikaigabuchi”(Abyss of the Spirit World), began at this very moment.

Eventually, Yoishi nodded once and then began to narrate.

"I’ve been wondering for a while. Why is it called 'The Wish-fulfilling House'?"

"Why? Because--"

"The title lacks a subject. Whose wish is it fulfilling?"

Those words gave me chills--

I immediately began regretting my decision.

"That house isn't a house of hope. The only thing I felt was intense malice from within," Yoishi whispered with the expression of a princess who'd been locked away in a dark castle for a millennium. "The architect with an unusual love of architecture who disappeared. The countdown that began with '7' ("七"). The mysterious space under the stairs. Someone's Wish-fulfilling House. There's only one answer that ties everything together."

My goosebumps wouldn't disappear.

What was she trying to say? What was going to come out of this?

The night-colored girl uttered with a glimmer in her dark eyes:



"The architect is still inside those stairs."



"W-wait a sec--"

"Of course, he’s not alive anymore. But then it all comes together. Why there's a meaningless space under the stairs. Why it was named 'The Wish-fulfilling House.' And why the numbers began with '7' ("七")."

"Wait, that doesn't explain anything. It didn't start with '7' ("七"); it was originally '10' ("十"), and I just happened to write the number over an already existing scratch—"

"Wrong." Her words twisted my world. "You originally wrote '10' ("十"). That much is true. But there was never a scratch originally. Someone added a scratch that changed it to '7' ("七")."

"How...how can you say that happened?"

"I saw it."

"Saw what?"

"I saw your scrawled '10' ("十") had been scratched from the top, and turned into a '7' ("七")."

"Then...then, the reason Krishna-san kept saying there was no ghost in that house was because—"

Yoishi turned her eyes to the western club building, with a sad look on her face.

"Ignorance is bliss, after all."

...Ha.

"That is that person's kindness, something I lack."

...Hahaha.

Hahahahahahahahahahaha.

I had to laugh, or else I would have gone insane.

"You're lying, aren't you? You're making this all up, right? Oh, I got it! It's an occult story you read somewhere!" I continued laughing, praying that that was the case.

Yoishi looked at me sympathetically with a mournful gaze.

"It's all true. Because—" When I could no longer utter a word in rebuttal, Yoishi quietly landed the final blow. "After you were carried out, some man I'd never seen before was clicking his tongue on the stairs."




As the world went dark—

Only Yoishi's cold, sweet voice reverberated.

"Welcome...to the world on ''this side''."

























<noinclude>