Phenomeno:Case 12

Case 12: The Gravestone of a Sixteen-Year-Old

When I suddenly aimed my light towards the darkness—

The pale face of a woman appeared there.

The woman, her hair half white, stared motionlessly at me with a hollow expression on her face. I could hear my heartbeat race a mile a minute. My repeated gasps echoed and melted away in the dark room. The woman’s face looked seemed to float in the air, and her eyes, which were slightly out of focus, looked as though they were seeing right through me at something unknown.

Even after I finally realized that the woman was a portrait hanging on a wall, my knees continued to tremble – and from the bottom of my heart, I wanted to cry as I thought about it every time: Why the heck am I doing something like this again? ‘Give me a break’, I groaned, turned the light behind me, and another pale face appeared in the pitch-black darkness.

“Eeeek……!”

When I unintentionally shrieked—

“It’s too bright.” I heard a voice so calm that I froze.

Yoishi Mitsurugi moved her beautiful face away from my light, and then silently passed me by without a word. The sound of her footsteps on the floor rang out in a creepy, creaking noise.

“H…hey, Yoishi. Wait for me.”

Yoishi was in her high school uniform today as well. I don’t know if you’d call it traditional or gothic, but it’s a uniform entirely in black with a black blazer and a black skirt, so when we come to search a vacant house late at night with no electricity, she would always completely blend in with the darkness.

“That was the first one.” Yoishi spoke somewhat happily. “And this is the second one.”

On the corridor wall where she aimed her light, was a painting. It was indeed a portrait. The same woman from before was depicted on it. The same clothes, the same hair, the same expression. Her creepy, somewhat out of focus gaze looking off somewhere was also the same, and the composition of the painting, which drew her from the top of her head down to her breasts was very much the same – but, something felt slightly off. Well, I guess that was to be expected given that they were two different drawings of the same woman.

I tried not to think too deeply about it, and followed Yoishi as she ventured further into the manor.

As I recall, no one lived in this abandoned mansion for about seven years now. A middle-aged woman who was a painter is said to have lived here. That being said, I felt that there were an unusually large number of abandoned furnishings you wouldn’t find in a normal household. Vases of a strange shape, animal shaped plates, carpets with bizarre patterns– in short, the things scattered here and there were things that only a person of a particular sensibility would enjoy.

“Where is the sixth portrait, I wonder?”

Muttering that, Yoishi crossed the hall with no hesitation in her step whatsoever.

“Why do people who see that portrait go missing? And does the sixth portrait truly exist?”

Her words, spun like a whisper, reverberated in the darkness, like a craftsman’s fingers had flicked a narrow and hard wine glass. At that moment I heard a snap from somewhere. It could have been from outside the house, or it could have echoed from the darkness right next to me. Either way, it seemed to me like someone invisible was rejoicing. And as always, I regretted my actions.

--Dammit, I shouldn’t have come here.

---

It was a cold December afternoon -- the day before Christmas.

On that day, I had something on my mind, so I asked for the day off from my part-time job at the Italian restaurant. My boss and colleagues were half cold and half sarcastic, asking me If I had a date, but I still felt really sorry towards them. For some reason, the Japanese enjoy Christmas with great enthusiasm, even though the vast majority don’t believe in Christianity. Moreover, tonight was Christmas Eve, a time more exciting than the day itself. For couples in society, it seemed to be customary to have dinner at a fancy restaurant on Christmas Eve, and the Italian restaurant I worked at was coincidentally very well known in the neighborhood as one such place. Understandably, the reservations were jam packed, and the restaurant employees were probably about to be in for a world of pain from here on.

I easily imagined that would be the case when I submitted my shift, but – I had suddenly realized something. At a time like Christmas Eve, I imagined Yoishi Mitsurugi’s sad figure alone in the loft of my apartment, browsing occult websites. Wouldn’t it at least be better to buy a cheap cake, pop some party poppers and say, ‘Merry Christmas!’ with some stacked cups? She might not have any interest at all in the birthday of a saint who died two-thousand years ago, but even so, a sound high school girl wouldn’t be browsing occult websites on Christmas Eve. At least, not one I’d seen or heard of. And if I went to my part-time job, she would end up being reduced to one of those rare high school girls. That was far and away from the ‘Yoishi Mitsurugi Rehabilitation Plan’ I had aimed for. Feeling that strange sense of duty, I took the day off, despite feeling sorry about it. After my supplementary lectures at university, I headed straight back to my apartment, when I realized – I didn’t exactly know what we should do on Christmas that would be enjoyable?

Should we have dinner at a fancy restaurant?

Or should we go to an area of dazzling lights filled with couples?

--It happened at that moment.

My apartment door suddenly burst open without even as much as a knock.

“Nagito, I’m glad you’re here.”

“…Oh, Ooki?”

The person grinning at the entrance of my door was my university batchmate from the art department, Mitsuru Ooki. He wore a worn-out T-shirt, a wrinkled thin jumper over it, and jeans with holes in them, his usual attire which looked to be quite cold.

“As expected, you’re at home even though it’s Christmas Eve.”

Saying that, Mitsuru Ooki shamelessly barged in without even waiting for an invitation.

“Do you know why I’m here?”

“I keep telling you, I’m not psychic. Why are you here?”

“You’re an expert on scary stories, right?”

“No, I’m not an expert.”

“Really? Aren’t you always reading creepy books in the clubroom?”

Those would be the basic occult-related material that Kirshna-san gave me. But I didn’t feel they were scary or creepy at all, probably because those research materials were academic or folkloristic in nature.

“Listen, Ooki.”

I began to explain to Ooki, who had sat down next to me with a thud before I’d realized.

“As far as the occult is concerned, liking it and being good at it are two very different things. It’s true that I do quite love to read and hear scary stories. But if you were to ask me if I was an expert, then my answer would have to be a hard no. In fact, I’d say I’m a coward compared to the countless occult maniacs on ‘Ikaigabuchi’, I’m a gutless person who’s especially scared of paranormal phenomenon and have no tolerance for it whatsoever, just by talking to me about a bloody woman who has a hollow gaze is enough to burn the image into my brain and make me have sleepless nights.”

“I know quite well that you’re a coward. But still, you have more tolerance than the average person, right? You know a lot of stuff, right?”

“I don’t have tolerance, nor do I know stuff, but I still end up getting involved in the occult, that’s the problem.”

“Well, that’s fine. I want to hear your opinion on something.”

Ooki then pulled the electric heater I was using close to him and began to speak.

“There is – or, I should say, there was -- a female painter by the name of Shizue Namikawa. She’s generally unknown, but from time to time, when her works are exhibited, they have a unique style, attracting interest and admiration from many experts.”

“By ’was’ – you mean to say she’s dead?”

“Yes. She’s been dead for a long time now.”

I felt something strange in the way he said it, and I too sat down on the floor. It seemed like it was going to be an interesting story.

“She was a strange one, for sure. I mean, artists are known to be strange in general, but she was especially strange. She learned how to draw oil paintings by herself after crossing the age of 30, never had any solo exhibitions, and only rarely ever entered competitions around the country. However, even if she won, she’d never appear in person. Eventually, there were over a dozen uncollected prizes to her name. Then, the other day, a person in charge of the competitions really wanted to hand her the prize in person, so he sent over someone to the address where the paintings came from. That house was close to here – but, it seemed no one had lived there for almost seven years.”

“…Huh? What does that mean?”

“It means that the painter known as Shizue Namikawa wasn’t in this world anymore.”

“Uh huh...”

A shudder crawled up from under my feet, and I repositioned my cross-legged legs.

“The organizers checked it with the city and found her death certificate had been submitted seven years ago in August when she was 41 years of age. She was married once in her 20s, but her husband passed away. She had no other relatives and it seems she lived alone for the rest of her life. The place of her death was inside that mansion. One morning, a neighbor called the police and reported her mailbox being full of circulars and mail, and her body was discovered inside. The cause of death seemed to be heart failure, as there was no evidence of criminal wrongdoing. Since she didn’t have any relatives, she was cremated by the city, and her cremated remains are still kept in the city’s ossuary.”

“So that means that the person who sent the picture was someone who pretended to be Shizue Namikawa – Or does that mean it was Shizue Namikawa herself, who was supposed to be dead?”

I connected the story in an unscrupulous, yet exciting way, and in reply:

“Well, the latter possibility isn’t obvious to normal people.”

Ooki tilted his hand to his mouth, seemingly gesturing for something to drink. I reluctantly reached out for the electric water boiler, brewed a pot of tea, and handed it over to him. He took a loud sip and grunted, “Delicious,” before continuing his story.

“So that’s where the official story ends, but the problem comes after that. I was working part-time with the competition organizers the other day and heard it from them directly, it seems there were a lot of strange things about that house.”

“A lot, you say?”

“There are rumors that suggest someone might still be living there.”

“…Hm.”

In short, I guess they want to say that it’s Shizue Namikawa’s ghost.

But recently, I found that I was no longer afraid of the formulaic ghost stories. Was it because I became involved in ‘Ikaigabuchi’ and faced real ghosts? So I arrogantly put on an air of seniority as someone experienced in the path of the occult, and spoke:

“You see, Ooki. This something a person I respect said: ninety-nine percent of the ghost stories in this world are in this world are lies, delusions, and misunderstandings. Isn't there a hobo inhabiting that place or something?"

But Ooki went “Well, hear me out,” and began to narrate.

“You see, it happened just last month. All the competition organizers consulted together, and decided together with the city officials to enter that house. She was a local artist, and they thought that if she still had other paintings, they could hold a private exhibition as a memorial to her. So, as expected, they found quite a few intact paintings in the house. Among them was a quintet of paintings that were thought to be self-portraits were especially wonderful, so they were catalogued along with other conspicuous paintings, and arranged to be taken out at a later date. However, this is where things start to get strange. When the transporter came to pick up the paintings and entered the manor, he found six self-portraits instead of five.”

“Huh? Couldn’t it be a simple mistake?”

“Of course, he thought that was the case at first. But not only he was a transporter, he specialized in paintings. He had an eye for aesthetics far beyond that of an average person. He compared it to the catalogue, and as a result – determined that there really was one more painting after all, so he contacted the organizers to have them check again. Thereupon, the organizer’s appraiser visited the house once more, and confirmed that there was indeed one more self-portrait with the same composition as that of the original quintet. Having no other choice, he seemed to have rewritten the catalogue, however, one day, the appraiser went missing.”

“…..”

“Furthermore, the transporter who first discovered the sixth portrait is now missing too. He didn’t come to work for a while, and a missing person report was filed by his family. After that, the selection of the next person in charge became difficult, so the talk of the solo exhibition died down. Well, I guess everyone felt something creepy about the whole thing. The painter passed away seven years ago. Despite that, her works continue to be sent into competitions. The self-portraits that increased in number at the house. And before you knew it, people began to whisper. Isn’t Shizue Namikawa still inside that house?”

I unintentionally took a gulp, when—

“--How wonderful.”

I suddenly heard a voice, and looked up to see a white face peering in from the loft.

“A….AGGHHHHH….!!”

Ooki, who usually moves so boldly, or what could be called a dull dragging motion, immediately flipped over, and I panicked when I saw him.

“It's here! It's here! A ghost!”

“No, calm down Ooki.”

“AGHH, how can I stay calm? Can’t you see it? Or are you already possessed?”

“I can see her. I can see and hear her. It’s hard to deny that she’s ‘possessed’, but she’s not a ghost or anything. She has legs, eats, sleeps, and browses the internet, a flesh and blood human. Although she doesn’t take baths.”

“…What?”

Ooki, who had his face covered in a cushion, finally raised his head. Thereupon, the pure white, long haired high school girl with miraculous facial features slowly descended the ladder from the loft. No, describing her appearance too positively will lead to misunderstandings, so I should mention that she slept in the loft since she came back from her high school’s end-of-term ceremony today. Her black blouse was wrinkled, and her hair was disheveled in a shaggy way.

“She’s Yoishi Mitsurugi, my flat mate.”

“F-flat mate?”

Yoishi bowed her head ever so slightly. But it was so slight you wouldn’t notice it unless you were used to it, and Ooki surely didn’t notice.

“Why? Since when have you – Is she your girlfriend? And moreover, she’s a high schooler? Dammit, you cunning bastard, you've been enjoying Christmas Eve, haven’t you?”

He turned blue, and then red in a jiffy, what a busy guy.

“That’s not it. Even though me may look like we’re living together, to be honest, she’s parasitizing in the loft portion of my apartment. But anyway, forget about Yoishi and please continue.”

Ooki sat in the formal position for a while as he stared blankly at Yoishi, before eventually clearing his throat once, and drank the last drop of the now lukewarm tea.

“Umm, now where was I… actually, that’s as far as the story goes. In short, that’s how the story of Shizue Namikawa’s solo exhibition was put to rest, and all that’s left is a creepy rumor. Did the self-portraits that were supposed to be a quintet, really increase? What would happen if you were to see the sixth one? The person who told me was scared, saying they didn’t know. So, I came all the way out here to let you know, since you really love scary stories. If you’re thankful, then treat me to something. I haven’t eaten well in the past two days, so a beef bowl would be fine.”

--This bastard, he really did come to scrounge some free food out of me.

As I glared at Ooki’s sloppy face—

“Say, is it alright if I ask you something?”

Yoishi suddenly interjected.

“Does that self-portrait only have a face? Or is it from chest up or a full body portrait?”

Ooki answered, somewhat taken aback by the sudden question.

“Umm…. No, sorry, I didn’t ask that much.”

“Did anyone else see it? Are the appraiser and the transporter the only ones missing?”

“There were probably more people who entered the Namikawa residence, but those two were the only ones who appraised the painting… the others probably didn’t see the sixth self-portrait. I didn’t hear about anyone else disappearing.”

“—Hmm.”

Yoishi whispered that much as she fell silent. Eventually, she staggered up and went back into the loft. As she was climbing the ladder, I was worried her pants would be exposed through her short skirt, but Ooki too was an innocent guy who intentionally averted his eyes.

“…I know I’m late to say it, but she sure is beautiful.”

“Well, her appearance anyway.”

“Where did you meet her?”

“Where? There’s no other answer besides her springing out from an occult site, is there?”

“Springing out from?”

While we were talking in hushed tones, I heard the laptop computer being booted up in the loft, and the sound of vigorous keystrokes eventually started to emanate. Apparently, she was searching for something. And that clacking noise made me recall something.

It was the strange website Sako had told me about in exchange for the job I did. The shadily titled, ‘Heaven on earth’, was a website of negative people devoted to propagating negative words and deeds, in short, it was a site for assembling those who wished to commit suicide. And the person with the handle ‘Lost child’, who was treated as their queen – seemed to have been Yoishi. How I surmised ‘Lost child’ to be Yoishi was due to her deep spiritual knowledge, and her peculiar manner of speech. Words like “It’s strange,” and her unique way of ending sentences, which doesn’t conform to the speech patterns of girls in this day and age, and which was definitely not used in writing. And even there, Yoishi a.k.a ‘Lost child’, spoke indifferently of death. And her unique views on life and death, as well as her spiritual knowledge were popular with those netizens who excessively glorified death. When ‘Lost child’ logged in, they started posting ‘Descent’ like a cult, as if some god had descended.

--What the hell was she was doing at a place like this?

At the time, I was shocked, disgusted, and a little aggravated. I didn’t know why I felt aggravated at the time, but for the time being, I read all past posts from ‘Lost child’ related to death on the website. And – what I found out, was that this site was a little different from the suicide websites that were currently popular. Rather than being a place to gather a suicide buddy or to encourage suicide, the atmosphere was more like that of a university seminar in a sense, with everyone discussing the afterlife and those who had found the answer left (or perhaps committed suicide?). And instead of a professor, the person leading the discussion was ‘Lost child’, a.k.a Yoishi.

To those who longed for death, ‘Lost child’ did not praise suicide, nor did she denounce it, she merely continued posting her views on life and death with indifference. But at times, her words had a strange gravity about them. As a result, the number of people like me who had been caught up in them had multiplied, and the site thrived as a result.

What will you do if someone triggered by your words really did commit suicide?

Or was that not a problem since the site was only for people who were suicidal to begin with?

I didn’t know. Anyway, taking a glance at her old posts, the feeling I got was that Lost child’s occultic posts were interesting for the moment, and that there was a strange equilibrium there, as if someone who came here to commit suicide was discouraged from doing so.

As I drew that memory in my mind—

I heard Yoishi’s voice saying, ‘hmm’, up from the loft.

“—Did you figure something out?”

“The name of the atelier is ‘Grave keeper’.”

“Grave keeper?”

“I found out when I saw the address, it’s a solitary place behind the Tokyo Metropolitan cemetery. Maybe that’s why.”

After that, Yoishi’s face suddenly peeked out from the loft, and I realized. Her eyes had that bewitching glow about them. The hollow glass bead-look in her eyes was absent, and instead, a dark colored light shone within.

…Oh shit.

What was I gonna do if she asked me to go there? Until now, I had thought that Yoishi was pushing ahead to the world beyond to regain the feeling of ‘fear’ she had lost for some reason or other. And I thought I’d sort of accompany her in this rescue operation. However, now that I had found out about that site – what if Yoishi yearned for death itself? Wouldn’t that change the meaning of the haunted spot investigations?

Yoishi then asked me something incomprehensible:

“Say, have you heard of Hilbert’s infinite hotel paradox?”

“Hilbe…what?”

“David Hilbert. A German mathematician who died seventy years ago. The twenty-three Hilbert problems he presented in 1900 led to the Riemann hypothesis, a theory that stands unsolved to this day in the world of mathematics – but leaving that aside. The problem is the theory of infinity he proposed.”

“…I don’t know what you mean, but, say, could you come down here to talk. My neck hurts like this.”

Me and Ooki still had our heads looking up at the ceiling. However, Yoishi ignored me and continued speaking while looking down on us.

“To explain it in simple terms, it’s a though experiment which states that there exists an infinity larger than any infinity. For example, say there was a hotel with an infinite number of guest rooms. But all the rooms are full. At certain times, a new guest will arrive. Because of the rooms being full, the hotel shouldn’t be able to accept any new guests, but the guest insists on staying. What would you do if you were the manager of that hotel?”

“…”

I looked sideways at Ooki who had a foolish look on his face. He shrugged his shoulders in silence, so it couldn’t be helped, I answered after putting my fist to my lips and thinking it through.

“What to do, you ask… but there really is no other choice here.”

“No, you can still allow them in.”

“Allow them in? But the rooms are full, right?”

I rebutted while raising my head, and Yoishi spoke while looking down at me.

“The answer is to move the guests to the adjacent room in order. If you did that, the first room will become empty, allowing a guest to enter.”

“…Hey, that’s cheating.”

I said something like that – when I realized.

“Ah…I see, so it’s a paradox because the number of rooms is supposedly infinite?”

“That’s right. You must be relieved after listening to the solution now. A hotel like that can’t exist in reality, it’s simply a thought experiment. it’s definitely never the case, but--”

Yoishi’s voice abruptly turned to a whisper, and a sudden chill came over me. It was as if the strong cold outside blew into my room alone. It felt as if something would once again shake the earth I stood on.

“But what if something similar to that did occur in reality? Right, for instance, in the atelier with the title of ‘Grave keeper’.”

“……”

“Say, do you want to know?”

I took a gulp and shook my head.

“I don’t want to know.”

---

But -- in the end, Yoishi and I were once again at a place like this late at night.

Soon after that, Ooki left with a dumbfounded look on his face. Well, if somethings impossible for you, then it's best to give it up right then and there. A normal person would shake their head when asked something like "Would you like to visit the rumored artist’s mansion when the streets are dead late at night?". So, the abnormal Yoishi and I, barged into the creepy mansion late at night on Christmas eve with pocket lights in hand. We were wandering around the large mansion with the smell of old wood and a lot of dust.

“Brr…it’s freezing.”

The house was strangely cold, maybe because of a draft coming in from somewhere, or maybe because it had the creepy characteristic of a haunted place. It’s true that temperatures in Tokyo had dropped dramatically at the end of December, but it was so cold that even the tips of my toes were painful and numb.

As I looked at Yoishi’s slender figure moving ahead of me without even a coat–

I breathed into my hands while the floor creaked as I went. However, I couldn’t really concentrate on the haunted spot investigation today. That was surely because the suicide applicant website I learnt of from Sako weighed heavily on my mind.

--Why was Yoishi on that site?

Was she, too, drawn to the other world? Did it mean that she was more interested in the world beyond rather than just the paranormal? However, up until this point, it felt like she had many chances to die. And in those chances, she wouldn’t have to physically stop any of her biological functions. For example, in that dream mansion of mine, or in the underground labyrinth of the Koumei institute – I had thought that far, when it suddenly occurred to me. Huh…wait a second? Was I the one who destroyed all those chances? She had wanted to fall into the world of the abyss, and yet, was I the one who ended up pulling her back into this world? Was she actually unhappy at my actions?

As I ruminated on such things—

I heard a crack ringing out beneath my feet, causing me to raise one foot with an eeek.

A broken flower vase lay there. It seemed I had trampled on it with my sneakers.

I felt ashamed about mindlessly barging into someone’s home every time, but that’s how it was with searching abandoned places. There may be broken glass scattered about in the dark, and if by some chance that you were discovered, you’d have to make a run for it. That’s why I always apologize internally, “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry,” as I move ahead while wearing my shoes. Krishna-san always told me to have respect for the deceased – and though it was true that no one had lived here for a long time, this was once a treasured place where someone lived and spent their days.

I gently moved the broken pieces of the vase to the corner and bowed.

And at that moment—

I suddenly felt someone’s gaze behind me.

I turned around and aimed my light, to see the swaying shadow of ornaments. I felt like the shadows were one too many when compared to the number of furnishings. Suddenly, I felt a dull pain in the back of my ears, and a cold chill ran through my back and transmitted through the rest of my body.

“—S, say, Yoishi.”

I took a gulp and called out to Yoishi, who had already moved further down the hallway.

“I know it’s too late to ask now. But do you know of the Youth Protection Ordinance?”

However, Yoishi neither stopped in her tracks nor looked back.

“In short, society isn’t so lenient as to let a high school girl live together with a university student. You living together with me makes me culpable to a crime, and I’d lose the trust of society which I could never regain. In the first place, that apartment is for bachelors only, and it’s forbidden for two people to live there together.”

I regularly said that kind of thing to Yoishi, to the point where it was something she was fed up of hearing. It had already been three months since we started living together, and even though it was forbidden to get used to this type of life, the simple reason I purposefully talked about it in this pitch-dark place was because I was afraid. If I kept talking for now, my fear would diminish.

“You’re trying to look for a new room, right? I don’t know if you’ve forgotten, but I’m only letting you stay at my place because you don’t have anywhere to go. You know we can’t continue living together forever, right?”

However, Yoishi continued walking without looking back, so I stomped past her down the creaking hallway, aimed the light at her face, and spoke:

“Hey, wait! Even if, hypothetically speaking, we must live together, there would still have to be manners and rules.”

“…..”

“You should properly dispose the bags of snacks and plastic bottles that you finish eating and drinking. Also, it's time to get those uniforms cleaned. I'm lending you my jersey to sleep in, so don't sleep in your uniform.”

“Ah, how annoying.”

“W-what did you just say?”

“Why must you always annoy me about it?”

Yoishi spoke as she focused her light at my face in opposition.

“Why…that’s, you….?”

I was about to say that it was a part of the ‘Yoishi Mitsurugi plan’ – before I held my tongue.

The plan was already in shambles, and now that I had seen that website, I didn’t see the point in what I was doing. That’s right – the reason I was feeling dissatisfied and irritated with that site was because of Yoishi’s handle, ‘Lost child’. She had used her real name, even on Ikaigabuchi up till now, yet why would she choose a handle name now? It was because she didn’t want the people she associated with in her daily life – being me in this case, to not know, and she wanted to be able to express her true feelings without reservation to anyone. Furthermore, did that mean that she didn’t want to tell me her true thoughts? That was too cold towards me, who had thought of her as a ‘war comrade’.

Even so, was there any meaning in me accompanying Yoishi to yet another haunted spot? And how much longer should I keep doing it for? Was I afraid that she would die? Was I afraid she would end up broken? Was it a sense of responsibility of not being able to abandon her after getting to know her?

Once I think I’ve abandoned something, it leaves an extremely bitter aftertaste. Even now, I was still worried about Akane Nanamori. Yoishi had said that the girl selling ghost photographs didn’t have long to live. It might be true because she said it, but Akane Nanamori was still just a young kid, who should enjoy a long, long life from now on. Even now, it weighed heavily on my mind, wondering if there was still a way to save her.

--As I thought such thoughts, Yoishi muttered.

“You’re surely the clingy type.”

“…Eh?”

“As soon as you become someone’s boyfriend, you’d be the type to spend twenty-four hours a day asking where did you go? Who did you meet? What are you doing tomorrow? What are you thinking? And so on. The clingy annoying type that interrogates and pries through each and every detail. As a result, the type who’d make things worse by depending too much on your girlfriend, who starts stalking her, and resorts to violence in the end.”

“….Y,y,y,you bitch.”

Without even knowing what others are thinking – that’s really all you have to say? You’d really say that to someone who’s in tears and accompanying you to a haunted spot? Without care for the place or the situation, I shouted:

“You! Don’t you think you’re a waste? You really are a fine person. Aren’t you really pretty? Isn’t the reason you stand out at school because you throw up and scatter a sour smell everywhere without care for your surroundings? If you took a bathed properly and acted normally – you’d be beautiful enough make ten out of ten heads turn in a crowd.”

“There’s no meaning to appearances. In the first place, isn’t the only reason you’re associating with me is because you think I’m so damn pretty? Isn’t the reason you go to haunted places with me is because you think I'm breathtakingly beautiful?”

…You, would go that far?

I was flabbergasted with my mouth open — when Yoishi suddenly stopped moving.

She looked my way, as her large eyes opened even wider.

“W-what’s wrong?”

I called out to her, when I realized. I noticed a shift in Yoishi’s gaze. I thought her large eyes were staring at me, but they were instead pointed at the side of my face – in short, they were looking right behind me.

“Wa—you, where are you looking….?”

I felt a chill down my spine as if I had been doused with cold water, and reflexively crouched, when—

“There it is.”

Yoishi aimed the penlight behind me. Having ended up crouching down, I timidly turned around –

That woman was there.

There, perhaps, was the self-portrait of Shizue Namikawa hanging on the corridor wall.

“This is the third one.”

After exhaling a deep breath, I too aimed my light there.

It was a framed self-portrait about 700 x 600 cm in size. Inside the wooden frame, that middle-aged woman was there. Her pale face was filled with what could be called a hollow expression, and both of her eyes were strangely slightly out of focus as she stared at me.

“The style of painting is changing.”

“…Style of painting?”

“The self-portrait in the drawing room right by the entrance had a somewhat realistic style. However, beginning with the second portrait, the emphasis was put on colors, and the primary colors are even more striking in this third one. The Fauvism-like uninhibitedness strongly permeates this work.”

As I cocked my head in puzzlement, Yoishi started walking ahead. Her footsteps creaked the floorboards of the dark, narrow corridor as she moved her feet towards the darker depths of the mansion.

Having no choice, I made to follow her, but the further I went, the less I understood the structure of this mansion. From the outside, it didn’t look like a large mansion, but instead seemed to be a long and narrow arrangement of rooms in the back. It was connected with the forest at the back of the cemetery, and the mansion was surrounded by thick and tall zelkova trees. That might have made it hard to get a full picture of the mansion. The ceiling was high, and it might have had an attic, but it was a single-story house in the style of a western mansion.

“This is the fourth.”

Eventually, Yoishi spoke at the center of the slightly open living room at the end of the hallway. At the end of her aimed pen light, was indeed a similar self-portrait in a frame. However, when I saw that picture, I gulped. This time, even as someone ignorant about art, I could tell. The style of painting was definitely different. The subject was drawn in a somewhat more distorted style, making it look like it was the work of a different artist altogether.

“I don’t understand it well, but it’s like that, right? The series of self-portraits are intentionally drawn in the same composition, but in different styles.”

“Right, intentionally done.”

Yoishi then repeated in whisper.

“And how much of it was intentionally done, I wonder?”

--How much? What did she mean?

Most of the things she spoke of were cryptic, but she then said something even stranger.

“Why did Shizue Namikawa name this place ‘Grave keeper’?”

“Huh?”

“To begin with, no one knows when and how the occupation of a grave keeper first arose. The most common theory is that it was created to protect the bodies buried in the ground from dogs and crows, but there are also other theories that it was created to protect the relics buried with the dead in the coffin - necklaces, rings, and other precious metal items. However, the commonality in those myriad theories is that the grave keeper is an existence that is the antithesis of a grave robber.”

Saying that, Yoishi turned back to me.

“Say, don’t you think it’s strange? In the age of burials, a hole was dug in the ground, and the body was buried in a wooden coffin. The wood would eventually rot and turn to dust. The same went for corpses. If that’s the case, a strange thing happens. Where did the space they had secured go when they disappeared with the earth?”

“No, where you ask – but the body and the coffin turned to dust, right? In short there’s no such thing as a space. It turned into dust as is, right? It all comes out even.”

“Maybe so.”

Yoishi answered somewhat happily, as if she had already guessed my answer.

“There must always have been a cavity between the corpse and the coffin so that precious metals and other relics could be placed in it. So, the total volume of the coffin crate and the body is definitely smaller than the total volume originally secured by the coffin's outer crate. In other words, after a certain amount of time has passed, the grave should be hollow underneath.”

No, but that’s…

Still, I thought. The grave might have indeed collapsed with the passage of time. It may have been the grave-keeper's job to pour earth over it again and stamp it back into place.

I was about to object with that argument – but stopped at the last moment when a thought struck me. Right now, I had that original thought inside me. I felt like it was the reason I stood her now. But what if I were to say it out loud and Yoishi would deny it all again completely with the theory of the world beyond? At that moment, the place I stood would surely collapse. Something would end up tumbling and flipping over. Not to mention the fact that this was a place the supposedly dead artist lived, and it was close to midnight. I should keep the last thoughts to myself and keep my mind safe—

That was the answer I had reached after wandering with Yoishi many times in the depths of the world beyond.

When I looked up, Yoishi wasn’t there anymore. I raised my light in a panic and moved ahead. She was standing in front of a door a little further ahead. She stopped while clutching the brass doorknob, which gave off a dull light.

“Is something wrong?”

I called out to her, and Yoishi turned her pale face towards me. And after that, she silently aimed the light at my back – at the path I had come from.

“…W,what is it? Was something there?”

Yoishi continued to stare at the darkness beyond with those dark eyes of hers, but—

“…It’s nothing.”

She shook her head in the end. And in a single breath, flung open the door.

• Creaaaaak* -- An unpleasant wooden creaking sound rang out in the surroundings, and I involuntarily shut my eyes. It was because I sensed something oozing out together with the dust from behind the door. However, I sensed Yoishi had moved ahead, so I slowly opened my eyes and took deep breaths as I followed her.

The moment I entered the room, an acrid smell pricked at my nose.

This… was that. The smell of turpentine oil used in oil paintings.

“It seems this was the real atelier all along.”

As Yoishi said, it was a space around 24 square meters in size. Illuminated by the light, an easel and a wooden stool stood out at the center of the room. There was a single window on the right side of the room, covered with thick, sooty curtains. On the wall to the left were several works of art, some completed, others that were obviously abandoned. And on top of those large and small canvases laid out on the floor – the painting was in the center of the white, plaster wall.

“This is the fifth portrait.”

Yoishi stated indifferently – but I didn’t know anymore. It was blended with countless colors to the point where it was only consistent with previous paintings in Shizue Namikawa’s outline, her hairstyle, and the strange look in her eyes.

“…Say, Yoishi. Just what was Shizue Namikawa trying to do? Why did she go to the trouble of drawing these paintings in a different art style?”

Yoishi responded in a whisper:

“Just as writing has an aspect of organizing thoughts, so does painting. Shizue Namikawa might have been trying to extract something by repeating the same motif again and again. If I had to say, I’d say that this is an abstract painting, but they are far from the cubism and expressionism of Picasso and others.”

With that somewhat difficult reply, Yoishi focused her light elsewhere.

“And from here on, if we were to find a self-portrait, it would be the sixth one in question, but—”

Yoishi then spoke in a whisper, ‘It’s strange’.

“…W, what is?”

“There are no other doors in this room.”

“Huh?”

“The rooms end here.”

Hearing that, I, too, aimed my light at the surroundings to confirm.

Sure enough, I didn’t see any other door besides the one we entered through. Which meant that this canvas hanging on the wall right might have been the sixth painting. Saying that, I crouched down, aimed my light, and checked the discarded pictures one by one. Yoishi soon crouched down next to me, and we both checked all the paintings together, but in the end, none of them were portraits, but rather, landscapes and pointillism.

“…It’s not here. So, isn’t that all there is to it? The rooms end here, and the sixth painting never existed in the first place, right?”

I spoke praying somewhat that that was the case – however, Yoishi had her arms crossed, and her fingers on her lips as she thought about something.

“It's not like those two disappeared because they found the sixth painting, it might have just been coincidences piled together. Those kinds of countless misunderstandings often accumulate and circulate in the form of a ghost story--”

“Wind.”

However, Yoishi suddenly announced that as she began to survey her surroundings.

“The air in this room is moving.”

She muttered, and began to walk around the creaking floor, eventually she moved one easel out of the way and crouched before the wall. She then began to feel around the wall here and there.

“Here – these boards are different from the wall. They’ve been painted with the same color so it’s hard to tell, but this might be a sliding door.”

She declared, and without waiting for my answer, she quickly began to move the stuff on the other side of the easel.

“See, there are signs that the floor has been cleaned of dust. It means that someone other than us has opened it recently.”

“Was it the people who disappeared?”

I asked with a gulp, and Yoishi replied:

“Say, did you feel a sense of discomfort when you heard your friend’s story?”

“…Eh?”

“For example – the fact that the transporter was the one who discovered the sixth portrait before the appraiser.”

Her words sent a chill down my spine.

The words Yoishi Mitsurugi always spoke. 『The real ghost stories had a sense of discomfort about them.』『A sense of discomfort as if something important has been skipped over.』

“How could the transporter find the sixth portrait even though the appraiser only counted five? Perhaps that was because he was a specialist in transporting paintings, so he persistently checked that painting in comparison with the others. In short, he felt the need to check the other paintings to make sure there wasn’t another self-portrait among them. Was that all the paintings there were? Were there any other rooms? And that is when he found this – and entered. And, without a doubt, it was the same for the appraiser who learned of the existence of the sixth portrait.”

As her words reached my ears, a terrible sweat broke out all over my body.

The cold air was rising, and a chill ran through my back – Yoishi traced her hand along the wall, found a small hole, put her finger in it and dragged it sideways. A terrible *screech* sound rang out, and beyond the darkness, an even darker darkness appeared.

It reminded me of the black of the black sea I had once seen.

And, in front of that pitch black darkness that was seemed to pull me in, I suddenly remembered.

Come to think of it, that time we played ‘Dear Nostradamus-sama’ in the club room, I – That’s right.

Didn’t I inadvertently take my hand off the ten-yen coin? It’s far too late now, but that didn’t cause any problems, did it? If something terrible were to happen from here on – no, wasn’t I already in the ‘abyss’ as Yoishi put it…?

“Say…Let’s stop.” I spoke at last as my voice trembled.

The portraits, which looked like pictures at first were taking a bizarre turn. As I checked them one by one in this dark house, I began to be seized with strange thoughts. It was as if this house was inside the mind of the painter – no, it was as if I was engulfed in the whirlpool of thoughts left behind by the painter.

The fifth painting was strange in the first place. If I were to end up seeing the rumored sixth one, I felt like something would end up happening.

“Well, it’s fine if you want to stay here.”

“….”

“I’m not forcing you to do anything.”

Yoishi spoke in the same snide manner as earlier, stooped over somewhat happily and ventured deeper into the darkness.

--Ah, that’s right.

I muttered somewhat desperately to myself.

It’s just like you said, one’s life and wandering around haunted places are all one’s own responsibility. I wish I could do the same. It’s something I think about every time, I always want to turn back one step short of the breaking point of my limits. If I don’t do that, then one day, my mind will surely collapse. I would someday be swallowed by the darkness of the world beyond.

--And yet – why do I always fail to do that? Why do I keep following the girl who’s entranced with the world beyond, who searches for the true face of fear?

That was surely because I thought of her as a war comrade. She came to help me in that dream mansion, the source of my greatest fear. I’m still here thanks to that. And – I realized something there. Something had happened in Yoishi’s past. Something so terrifying that the feeling of ‘fear’ itself was snatched up from its roots. That’s why I had made the decision to stand by Yoishi’s side, just like how she had done for me. Even if I couldn’t help her solve the fundamental problem, I promised myself that I would at least share half the burden she carried. Even though my commitment wavered at times, I still wanted to protect that much somehow, for as long as I existed. That’s what I always thought.

However—that was dependent on a condition.

That she, herself, treated it as a problem to be solved.

That’s why I was irritated when I learned she was hanging around that suicide website as a ‘Lost child’. I had been working hard for her rehabilitation, and yet, if she herself yearned for death, it would all amount to nothing. My actions, my resolve, my determination, would be nothing more than tilting at windmills, and moreover, Krishna-san’s words would turn out to be true: 「Those who are entranced by the depths of the darkness cannot be saved.」

I suddenly recalled the negative thoughts plastered over a portion of the suicide website.

Of course… there had been many times when I wanted to throw my life away. But there were just as many times I was thankful to be alive. I am sure that both feelings would come alternately in equal proportions in the future. I live my life with the hopeful expectation that If I could get over the tough times now, then better times would surely be waiting ahead for me.

But, seeing the countless words posted on that site, I realized how naïve I was. On that site were endless stories of parental abuse, the cold betrayal of close friends, and the relentless abuse of teachers. A feeling of loneliness as if the world was telling you that you are nothing, and filled with an emptiness that took away the color of this world. I, too, might one day end up envisioning death as a sweet fantasy when thrown into that whirlpool of despair. I, too, might end up wanting to run away from everything.

There is an argument in this world that people who commit suicide are weak. Even I think that sometimes. But the basic premise that all humans should know is—

That no one chooses death by nature.

There is a harsh reality in which people are driven to the point where they can only choose ‘death’. They stand on the edge. The slightest push would be enough for them to choose death.

And strangely enough, 'Lost child' was the bulwark keeping them at bay. No, they themselves were acting as a bulwark against each other. That might look like licking each other's wounds to an outsider who has never thought of dying. But still, they're keeping a balance at the edge. And that balance is in no danger of collapsing. For them, the collapse of the balance might be the push on the back they need to change their fate to death.

That's right -- could it be that they are... Always giving it a try?

Aren't they constantly ‘testing’ their fate in some way?

They always want to ask someone whether they're better off alive or not, whether it was alright that they were born or not, isn’t that why suicide applicant websites keep popping up?

Come to think of it, Akane Nanamori also said it when I asked her about Yoishi. That "She might simply be giving it a try." And "Because I'm the same."

That means that, in short…

"I want to get to know you a little better from up close."

At that moment, I finally recalled the line Yoishi spoke when she came to my apartment.

Those were the words she spoke. Was she ‘testing’ me by stepping deeper into the abyss, where there is no help? How far could I follow her -- How much of her darkness I could be exposed to before I would let go? Was that the thing she was desperately ‘testing’ up until now?

"—Dammit!"

I took a gulp and then – I shouted, “Dammit,” out loud, once more.

“This…goddamn idiot was…”

I cursed out loud and plunged into the mouth of darkness that lay in front of me.

“Hey, Yoishi, wait. I’m coming.”

However, I stopped in my tracks the moment I jumped in.

I thought Yoishi might have moved further ahead already, but there she was. It really seemed as if she had melted into the darkness with her penlight turned off.

….Heeey, don’t scare me like that!

I was about to say out loud, when–

“--Why?”

With her head hung down, Yoishi asked me.

“Aren’t you afraid right now?”

“…Eh?”

“You’re scared out of your mind, aren't you? And being scared is something that should be quite painful for a normal human. Why do you move forward in the face of that pain?”

That was—

Because I couldn’t leave you alone, or because I didn’t want to end up hating myself, or maybe because I was really interested in the occult. I could think of countless reasons, but I felt none of them were appropriate, so I said, “Shut up.”

“Waiting alone in a place like that is way scarier. I mean, telling me you’re not forcing me to do anything -- so you're saying that your occupation of my loft is not forcing me to do anything? With the words you utter by calculating the endurance of my occult-loving nature, aren’t you the one who always forces me in tears at the end?”

Giving those absurd arguments, I aimed my light at the darkness.

“Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

I grabbed Yoishi’s hand, and continued forward.

To a somewhat hesitant Yoishi, I declared:

“Give up already.”

“…..”

“I might be annoying, and I might have the temperament of a stalker. But I’ll always be by your side.”

“…..”

“If you don’t want that, then work hard. The day you can smile cheerfully is the day I’ll stop being annoying.”

With those words, Yoishi gently gripped my hand in return.

And in the darkness-- we began to walk.

We began to walk towards the darkness, one that we might have to face in the near future.

“In all likelihood, I believe it leads to a barn.”

Yoishi eventually muttered and passed me by to lead the way into the darkness.

A moldy odor prickled my nostrils.

Something soft caught my face.

I realized it was a spider web and hurriedly brushed it off with my hand.

The darkness was immensely dense. A hole that seemed to lead to hell – no, it was the slope that connected this world to the next, Yomotsu Hirasaka. I felt as if I was descending down that slope. Although I'm ashamed to say this so soon after speaking with such bravado, but I was already regretting it. …Ah. Just recently, I had managed to get through a situation like this. In the basement of the Koumei Institute, that infinite corridor where this world and the other world seemed to merge. Why was I wandering in such a place again after throwing snot everywhere and escaping death from the scruff of my neck? It was hard to believe that this place was in Musashino or Tokyo. I don’t think It was a place where people would live anymore.

“If there is a sixth portrait, it should be close by.”

As Yoishi finished speaking, the ceiling suddenly got taller. I felt the intimidating air around me suddenly decrease. When I aimed my light, I saw a space of around 13 sqm.

The floor was bare earth, and a worn-out spade leaned against the rough wooden planks that made up the wall. There was also a dirty stepladder. It was indeed a barn just like Yoishi had said, and I finally breathed a sigh of relief seeing traces of a place once inhabited by humans.

But--

I turned my face where Yoishi silently aimed her light, and my body froze.

There was a forehead there. A frame in the same shape as the previous five portraits.

And in the center of it – on a white canvas, was that woman.

Drawn in the same position, she looked at me with her distorted gaze. She looked at me, as if pleading something directly to my brain.

This was, in short—

“The sixth one.”

Yoishi declared with an ecstatic expression.

But – but, I didn’t know anymore. I don’t know if it could be called a painting. I never saw a painting in such a style. The outlines were so blotchy and crumbled that you couldn’t tell if it was a painting by Shizue Namikawa without prior knowledge. The area around her eyes was dark. It was so dark I didn’t know what kind of pigment was used to express such a black color, but her gaze was clearly directed at me. There was a passionate will pleading to me for something, with a darkness that was enough to pull me in.

“…How wonderful.”

Yoishi spoke with an ecstatic expression, however, I was, as expected, in tears.

The earth was shaking.

My knees were trembling to the point of making a sound.

--I didn’t want to be here anymore. Not for a second longer. That was the warning sound blaring inside me. I shouldn’t look at this picture anymore – and that it didn’t belong in this world.

Did she sense my body shivering relentlessly?

“Let’s leave.”

Saying that, Yoishi pulled my hand.

And then, as if to lead me above water from the deep ocean depths where I was about to drown, she pulled me, and ran.

And as if entrusting everything to the feeling of her cold, soft hand – I ran as well.

---

The shadows of the tall zelkova trees stood in a row, the clear night sky spreading out above them.

I didn’t remember how far or where we had run to.

Before I realized, I was in a dense covering of grass thick enough to make me choke.

The chirping of insects reverberated around me. There, I repeated breaths deep enough to monopolize all the oxygen around me. I inhaled oxygen as if it were such a delicious thing, and I spat out all the ominous things trapped inside my lungs. I was freed from the feeling of being trapped, of something hanging right above my head, and the feeling of pressure as if my body was being twisted into something, a hollow smile soon appeared on my face, and I even let out a laugh.

“We can leave from here.”

I raised my head to see Yoishi standing in front of me, staring off into a dark thicket. It seemed that barn had an exit, and instead of going back all the way through the house, we exited straight out.

“---Where…is this place?”

I looked around once more as I asked, but Yoishi began to walk without saying a word; Flustered, I followed her.

Yoishi Mitsurugi bravely straddled ahead through the thicket. Even though it was a moonlit night, we continued on a path so rough I could only find it by shining a light at my feet.

The path gently sloped down.

How far are we going? I was about to ask, when my vision abruptly widened.

For a moment, I thought I had come to the sea.

However, when I looked closely, there were countless gravestones silently lined up.

Ah, this place is…

it seemed to be the southern end of the K cemetery managed by the Tokyo Metropolitan government, which had over 40,000 gravestones, and covered an area of around 650,000 sqm.

Yoishi and I stood motionlessly under the dark sky facing the gravestones that stretched to the horizon.

The clouds moved in the pitch-dark sky.

The moon and stars peeked out.

Only a cold wind blew through them.

A winter wind blew across, as if raining down from the clear starry sky.

And it was faintly permeated with the aroma of incense permeated into the ground.

Right now, in front of our eyes, was an ending of one side.

Someone’s life. Someone’s conclusion. A tiny trace of someone once having lived in this world.

And – why was it, I wonder? I was standing right in the midst of countless graves, and yet, strangely enough, I felt no fear. All the people here, were dead. I was comfortable with death, and to die was to finally be at rest.

Eventually Yoishi slowly began to walk again, and I followed.

On both sides of the path were tall, overgrown weeds that had been untouched for many years – Suddenly, I saw many stones lined up in one direction.

“Ah…”

“It’s the section for those who have no one to mourn their death.”

Yoishi’s whisper unintentionally startled me.

Right, those were certainly graves – or what used to be graves. Some of them had already toppled over. Some had already decayed to the point where the epitaph couldn’t be deciphered. There were withered flowers in vases that had already broken down since who knows how long, and muddy cups of sake also lay scattered about.

“—Say, Yoishi.”

Trying my best not to look at the mass of graves with no one left to tend to them, I asked.

“Did you figure out that what happened in that house? Who was sending Shizue Namikawa’s paintings to the competition and for what purpose? And why was the sixth portrait in a place like that?”

“If you were to ask me who it was, there’s no answer other than Shizue Namikawa herself.”

“No…but Shizue Namikawa died seven years ago, right? That’s why it became a ghost story, right?”

“That’s not it.”

Yoishi declared without looking back.

“That was… future mail.”

“…Eh?”

“A system where you can post something to someone many years in the future. If you were aware of a system like that, you could send a mail to a competition after your death. The question is, why would Shizue Namikawa do that – and why did the sixth self-portrait originally not exist? There were only five self-portraits in the beginning, as had been originally appraised.”

“Wai--”

With a cold feeling as if something rubbed my neck, I asked.

“Wa-- wait a second. Didn’t we see it? There was definitely a sixth painting. It was hidden in some obscure place like the barn. It was so creepy that the people who found it got scared and disappeared--”

As I said the words out loud, a terrible premonition quickly began to grow inside me. The hill road we were walking on became markedly steeper.

Yoishi broke the branches that extended to her face, flung them at her feet and spoke:

“We proceeded to the back of that house from the entrance. We thought that the style of the paintings changed from the entrance as we moved from the entrance to the interior. But that wasn’t the case. Everything was in reverse; the barn was the entrance.”

“…The barn was the entrance?”

“I didn’t call that painting we found in the barn a portrait. I only called it the sixth one. And that was not even a canvas. When I looked at it closely, I understood – it was merely a window frame designed to fit the same frame as the other five self-portraits.”

“…No, wait a second… then, what? Are you saying that when I was there… I was only looking outside the window?”

“Yes. The only thing we saw outside that frame-like window was the scenery we see here now. And, if you saw something else besides this scenery--”

“Then that, was something not of this world.”

I suddenly felt something rear its head from one of the graves in my surroundings.

The sixth self-portrait—no, the window frame made to look like a canvas I had seen earlier, was drawn in my mind once more. The moment I recalled the hollow depths of those eyes, that gaze that pierced through my back – the air rang in my earlobes.

Just as my legs were about to wobble, the path abruptly ended.

It was – the main street that ran through the center of the cemetery. We were thrown out on the paved road wide enough for large vehicles to pass each other. I saw a sidewalk lined with black cherry tree trunks.

Yoishi silently continued on that sidewalk. A little further away, I saw a tower that looked like a memorial monument. It seemed to be the center square of the cemetery, and we proceeded to it. Eventually, we reached a fountain without running water, and Yoishi sat down at a nearby bench.

From there, I looked back on the road we made our way from. I could barely make out the roof of that house beyond the dark copse we had just passed through. If you saw it from here, you could tell. That house was located on top of a hill, overlooking the cemetery.

“Why did Shizue Namikawa call that atelier ‘grave keeper’? It probably stemmed from her life.”

As Yoishi quietly began to narrate, I sat down beside her.

“She didn’t have single relative. She was married once, but death parted her from her husband. She lost the family she had finally gained. I don’t know where her husband is buried, but the possibility is high that he is here close to her home in the K cemetery. Although I heard that this cemetery was popular and booked several decades in advance. That means she might have waited for a vacancy in the community cemetery. No, Shizue Namikawa must have been waiting for a grave to open up day after day.”

“No… I mean, you’re just guessing, right…?”

When I asked her, Yoishi slowly turned to face me. Her face, illuminated by the moonlit night, was pure white, and her eyes were filled with emptiness. However, there was a definite sadness in them.

“She learned to draw by herself around that time – which proves everything. She continued to paint and wait day after day for a grave to become vacant. However, she finally realized. Having no relatives, if she were to die – she would not be able to protect her husband's grave, even if she got one. Even though they met through a fated encounter, they would end up sealed in tombs that no one would care for. The tombs with no one to care for them should have been infinitely filled must have been nothing but emptiness for her.

Infinitely… filled---?

Thereupon, I finally realized.

“I see… you said it in the apartment. Some story about some hotel…”

“That’s right, Hilbert’s infinite hotel paradox – the thought experiment that there is an infinity greater than any infinity - applies precisely to this cemetery. Every day, someone dies. And they go to their graves. However, the land is finite, and the number of graves will one day be insufficient. When a grave has no left to care for it, it indeed becomes empty, but even if you stop thinking of the person in that grave, it doesn’t erase the existence of those within. They've been relegated to a realm beyond the reach of thought, but they definitely exist. And – perhaps, in her mind, graves with no relatives to tend to them were not infinite, but merely infinite because they were displaced.”

“Then… why did she use a future postal service to get her paintings in the competition?”

I tried to ask –

But somehow, I had already realized it. Even so, I wanted to hear Yoishi confirm it with her words. Yoishi gazed at me with a sad look, exhaled a white breath up into the night sky, and spoke the words.

“She allowed the dead to soar back into the world of the living as paintings.”

“……..”

“She lived as a grave keeper, and continues to be one even after death.”

Those words—

Endlessly echoed inside my ears.

“I don’t know whether Shizue Namikawa decided to protect the grave as a painter or became a painter to protect the grave. However, if she continued to send her paintings through the future postal service to competitions, whether or not they won prizes, the existence of the sender would be sure to be noticed. If a painting were to gain a bit of recognition, someone would one day visit her house. And her thinking probably was – that If there were many paintings left inside, then they might be kept for safekeeping somewhere. If they were kept by an appropriate organization, then as long as society existed, the safety of the paintings would be assured. And the longer it took for the paintings to be discovered and stored, the better. After all, the more pictures of the dead that are transcribed, the better. Because that’s the only way to return someone without any relatives back to this world. To gain time – that’s why she used the future postal service.”

No—that was madness.

It was a concept and action outside the bounds of common sense.

But—

I don’t know why, but now, here in the middle of this vast cemetery late at night, I understood her feelings painfully well.

Right, she was just doing what she had to do as a ‘grave keeper’.

“The idea of transcribing infinitely increasing number of dead on a limited canvas would indeed fail. However, we as humans are doing it, we bury an ever-increasing number of dead into limited graves and have yet to fail.”

“……..”

…I didn’t know. I had no idea. I never thought about it before. I had a vague idea that I would obviously be buried after I passed away – but, if I never got married, if all my relatives passed away, and in the instance of not having even a single friend who cared for me… my life might be labelled as one with no connection whatsoever.

I suddenly felt a fear different from that of ghosts, and let out a deep breath.

And then looked up at the jet-black sky.

Tokyo’s skyline had few stars in it, but—

In them, it felt like me and Yoishi were alone right now.

In the endless darkness that was ahead and behind, it felt like we walked together hand-in-hand.

“When I go to an art museum, I sometimes see a painting I can’t help but be fascinated by.”

“…Eh?”

I looked to my side, to see Yoishi swinging her legs back and forth, as she looked up at the monument.

“From time to time, it would make anyone halt in their tracks, and it’s not a famous painting. The colors aren’t gaudy, and the composition isn’t extraordinary – but still, it’s a completely fascinating painting. I thought it was because the feelings of the artist and my feelings matched… but could it be that the painting was not drawn by human hands?”

“…Hey, stop it.”

In a large quiet art museum with no one around--

The image of Yoishi from behind, standing face to face with a single painting, drew itself in the back of my mind.

The painting, with the dead seared into it, merely stares at Yoishi, and Yoishi stares back at it with an entranced expression.

“But – even so, I’m still fascinated with the possibilities of the painting that can be created in such a way. A painting is a true representation of one’s humanity on a canvas.”

With those words—

What Yoishi was about to say inside the mansion finally sunk into me.

Buried flesh would one day return to dust. And Yoishi said that there should be a space left behind. I thought it was the job of the grave keeper to fill that space, but – that wasn’t it. They were already there. No matter what the physical condition may be, the dead are still lying there, just not visible.

『The grave keeper is an existence that is the antithesis of a grave robber.』

Those words vividly came back to me.

And those grave robbers were—

All of us living humans, wasn’t it?

Finally arriving at that answer, I sank down deep into the bench.

I looked up at the black sky, so wide and so black that I felt faint – and took a deep, deep breath. I realized how small the field of vision a human like me had in the face of a universe large enough to swallow me.

…That’s right. The night skyline of Tokyo that looked to be painted black at first glance, actually had a lot of stars if you looked closely. They were always there, just not immediately visible. And the story of that something hotel was surely applicable to this universe as well. As long as the end of the universe could not be confirmed, its mass could be said to be infinite – and as long as there were stars that humans didn’t know of, they too could be called infinite. That was the exact opposite of Schrodinger’s cat, there could be infinite possibilities in this world; ghosts exist, as do UFOs, there might be ancient earthlings still dwelling on the surface of the moon, Nessie might exist on Loch Ness, Ogopogo in Okanagan lake, even father time, and even Hitogata might be real – Ahhh, to sum it all up.

“Well… it might be good if there’s one painting drawn by a dead person in this world.”

Yoishi nodded in response.

“Of course, everything is my guess, but…but if such a painting were to exist – no, if it were to exist for me, then…”

As I looked at her from the side – Yoishi spoke with an innocent face, as if an evil spirit had been removed from her.

“For the first time in my sixteen-year life, I have a feeling I would find meaning in this endless corridor-like world.”

“…Corridor?”

Her words were the final piece of the puzzle.

…Ah, so that’s why… you were using the name ‘Lost child’?”

The moment I asked her that—

“…………………”

“…………………”

After a long silence, Yoishi finally said, “Eh?” and she looked at me.

And in response I too said, “Ah,” as I realized.

…Damn it.

“W, why do you know that name…?”

“Ah, sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. Umm, I heard it from Sako – no, I asked him, um, in short…”

I answered Incoherently, but Yoishi turned bright red for some reason.

“T, that handle was a mistake. Before I’d realized, I ended up with that handle, and started talking with it, and it would have been weird to change it after so long.”

“Well, if it’s a site like that, it’s not a particularly weird handle or anything.”

I consoled her for the time being, and then gently asked her.

As naturally as possible, trying my best not to sound reproachful.

“Say, Yoishi… Do you want to die?”

“…Eh?”

“I mean, that website – it’s for people looking to commit suicide, right?”

In response, Yoishi stared at me unblinkingly and said, “That’s not it,” and shook her head.

“No? Then what were you doing there?”

When I asked her that, Yoishi put her finger on her chin for a while as if lost in thought – and spoke:

“You could say -- it was for persuasion.”

“Persuasion? Who were you trying to persuade?”

“Someone who was already long dead, but didn’t realize it.”

“…Huh?”

After a while, when I understood the meaning of those words—

• Thump**Thump**Thump* I got goosebumps all at once.

“I found that site by accident. I was browsing it somewhat for a while, but there were posts on there that were obviously strange. A person who had left the words ‘goodbye’ a few weeks ago and disappeared began to talk about death again. Their expressions were somewhat distorted and inconsistent. At first, I thought it was another person pretending to be them -- but I suddenly realized. Ah, this person already ended up killing themselves.”

“H..Hey hey hey!”

“But it seemed the person in question hadn’t realized it. They spoke of ‘that world’ with the same enthusiasm as always. That’s why I tried to talk to them. And I was leading them to realize that they were already dead.”

“…No, leading them? You…”

“That’s right, I shouldn’t have gotten involved. They kept gathering one after another. Most of the time, half of the replies I had were from the dead. As I thoroughly defeated their arguments, the gallery ended up getting bigger, and yet those in the gallery would have no idea of the fact that I was trying to drive the dead away, and the handle of ‘lost child’ I had intended to use as a throwaway ended up completely set in place…”

As I looked at Yoishi pouting with dissatisfaction—

I felt my insides churn. Unable to bear it, I ended up bursting into laughter. Uhahahahaha, with my mouth wide open, I roared with laughter in the cemetery at night.

--That’s right. She was always like that. She would chase the paranormal, had her feet in the world beyond, peered into the abyss, and at the same time, she would help those who could be helped. If she met someone who was about to be swallowed by a world without hope, she would, in her own way, hold out a helping hand. Because she herself was a ‘lost child’. A ‘lost child’ who wandered this endless corridor, a ‘lost child’ that knew the pain of continuing to search for something to believe in.

And—

She wasn’t the type to use a handle name when talking seriously to someone.

She always spoke with her own name, even on the Internet.

And – Thereupon, I finally realized.

The reason Sako had told me about that site was… to inform me of Yoishi’s state as a bulwark on the site? That she had strangely taken on the burden on a site where suicidal people had made the decision to die?

Was he trying to tell me she wasn’t there because she wanted to die? And, that she herself was just a ‘Lost child’?

“Damn it… that bastard, making things hard to understand!”

Yoishi cocked her head in puzzlement, when--

I suddenly heard a gut-wrenching thud echo through the night sky.

When I looked up, I saw that the night sky was dyed with multicolored fireworks, as they scattered in a brilliant display.

I looked at the watch to see it was exactly midnight. In short -- this moment – was the birthday of Jesus of Nazareth, Christmas had begun.

From there, the sound of fireworks went off one after another, *Bang* *Boom*. The sky in the direction of the station twinkled brightly, as if there was a countdown event going on somewhere. I heard boisterous cheers as well. And the fireworks that shot up to the sky in succession dyed the night sky in a colorful way, and scattered. It was a breathtakingly beautiful sight.

“…Ugh, I can’t believe we’re in a cemetery late at night on Christmas.”

I muttered in disgust, but – well, I guess that was typical of us.

As I looked at the blazing petals spread out in the holy night – I thought I’d say ‘Merry Christmas’ for the time being, so I turned to face Yoishi besides me, however, I froze on the spot.

She was merely swinging her legs back and forth, as she stared up at the fireworks.

Her white, beautiful face, dyed in the light of the fireworks, still had the youthfulness of a sixteen-year-old. Her eyes under her long eyelashes began to show a faint glint of will, and her straggling hair blowing in the wind caught her small nose rather than her large eyes, and she brushed it off with her pinky finger.

As I looked at her in fascination—

Yoishi suddenly turned around to face me, and tilted her head curiously.

That surprisingly cute gesture made my heart skip a beat.

At that moment, an unknown passion boiled up inside me. Oh shit, I thought to myself, as I laughed in order to brush it off, scrambled my hair, and after hesitating for a moment – reached out towards Yoishi.

I wrapped my hands around her soft cheeks.

And, as I looked directly at Yoishi who had a blank expression as she gazed at me –

I pinched the flesh of both cheeks and pulled them to the left and right.

So soft.

“Un…”

The corner of Yoishi’s mouth opened.

Her white teeth peeked out. It was an artificial thing, but it was definitely her smile.

“….pu”

“T...this is humiliating.”

“…Ah, emm, sorry. I just wanted to know what kind of face you’d make when you smiled.”

She brushed off my hand in response, and complained about something or other, but—

That kind smile that appeared for a moment made me feel like I was rewarded for everything.

--Ah, that’s it. The ‘Yoishi Mitsurugi Rehabilitation Plan’ was a long way off, and it might not be possible for me alone to see through the goal, but – despite that, she was still only sixteen. If it took her sixteen years to become like this, it would be fine if it took her another sixteen years to get back on track. Life still goes on. There was no need whatsoever to be impatient.

Illuminated by the light of the fireworks in the middle of the cemetery –

I put these thoughts in my hand as I gently patted Yoishi on the head.

---

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