Kamusari Tales Told at Night (Forest) by Shion Miura

Author:Shion Miura [Miura, Shion]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Amazon Crossing
Published: 2022-05-09T16:00:00+00:00

Yoki had been in a bad mood that day. And not only that day. As a fifth grader starting puberty and a rebellious phase, both at the same time, he was constantly on edge for no reason.

His parents had set out for Mt. Omine on May 4, leaving him, their only son, with Granny Shige, who back then was still able to get around.

“If it gets cold at night, put on an extra blanket,” his mother said.

“Be good and I’ll bring you back a souvenir,” his father said.

But Yoki had sulked and never said a proper goodbye. His parents walked off and crossed the bridge, looking back again and again as they went, before boarding the bus at the meeting place. That was the last time Yoki ever saw them alive.

“It still gets to me,” he said. “Why’d I let ’em go without even a smile? I dream about that morning a lot, and in my dreams I’m always sulking.”

“Your parents must have understood you were at that age.”

I could relate. Until pretty recently, I’d been rebellious myself. My parents were always telling me what to do; I thought talking to them was hard and a pain in the ass. Now, maybe because I’m living away from them, or because I’ve smartened up, I can talk to them a lot more easily. But Yoki hadn’t had time to smarten up before his parents were gone forever.

He responded glumly to my clumsy attempt at offering comfort: “Yeah, I guess.”

His parents were supposed to get back the evening of the sixth, but an accident on a mountain road in Nara had ended their lives. When the police had phoned with the news, Granny Shige had sunk to the floor, receiver in hand.

“What would it be like, being in an accident like that?” Yoki said. “Whoosh, kaboom.”

Granny Shige had been so upset that she questioned the police over and over; it took time for her to grasp the situation. “And ever since, she’s been hard of hearing.” Whether that was the cause of Granny Shige’s deafness, I didn’t know, but a shock like that could well do it to a person, I thought.

Listening to the words his grandmother spoke into the receiver, Yoki had put two and two together. He jumped up and ran all the way to Seiichi’s house. When he rushed in, Seiichi, then in high school, was just setting down the receiver.

“For a second,” Yoki told me, “he looked like the ghost of a cucumber. Pale green with shock.”

In a steady voice, Seiichi said, “You’ll need your wallet and ID. I’ll get someone to drive us.”

By then, the usually peaceful village was in the throes of despair. People stood in front of their houses and out in the road, trading information—what little there was. The search was impeded because the bus had plunged into a valley. Some people hung their heads in concern, while others sobbed, convulsed with grief. Still others stood in clusters and talked about how to get to the site of the accident.

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