CHAPTER 1
Few had been brave enough to climb Mount Osore and enter the Castle of Bones. None of them returned. Or so the local legends said.
But Nagisa didn’t believe in old ghost stories, so he trudged along the path, feet slipping on stones and the thin layer of mud. He looked down at his new shiny boots. Good for a night out in the city; worst choice for this sort of endeavor. Even so, he wasn’t about to back down. His friends would mock him forever.
He regretted accepting their dare while drunk and now finding himself on Mount Osore, after dark, heading straight to the place where people disappeared. He shook his head. Those were silly children’s stories. Sensationalist gossip to attract tourists. Of course they returned. It was just an old castle, uninhabited for hundreds of years.
The cold spring air bore the woodsy scents of bark and moss. An oppressive silence dominated. Tall trees lined the path, their roots snaking across the forest floor. The full moon peeked through the branches, offering a faint light, enough for the forest not to be swallowed by pure darkness.
Nagisa stopped, his body shaking. Fear? No. There was nothing to fear. It was just the chill in the air. Should’ve brought a thicker jacket, but it was his first time traveling to Mutsu city in Aomori Prefecture and he didn’t realize how low the temperature could get.
Turning on his heels, Nagisa peered down the path through a gap in the trees. Grey smoke rose in the distance; steam emitted by the fumaroles of Osore-zan Mountain Range volcanoes. Inside the caldera stood the Osore-zan Buddhist Temple. The warm orange lights from its interior created eerie shapes in the smoke. For a second, Nagisa wished he had listened to theitako—the shaman women of the temple—and not gone up the hill behind the Buddhist Temple, where Hone-jo supposedly was. But that wouldn’t have been as fun for his friends.
With a heavy sigh, he continued up the path. The flashlight from the souvenir shop—bought to avoid draining his phone's battery—was too dim, so he made his way up with slow and careful steps.
It wasn’t supposed to be a long climb. He checked his phone. Only fifteen minutes since he passed by the Buddhist Temple. Somehow, it felt like an eternity. Perhaps because he was alone or because of the peculiar stillness surrounding him.
He listened.
No owls hooting or flapping of wings. No crickets chirping or rustles in the grass from little crawlers of the night. No wind through the leaves. Nothing, but perfect silence.
Not perfect. Nagisa’s heavy breathing echoed in his ears. Heart pounded in his chest. He dug his nails into his thighs, closed his eyes for a second and drew in air to calm himself.
He exhaled and walked again, rubbing his arms, still tempted to just run back to the hotel. Tree branches tangled in his hair and he ducked to avoid them slapping his face. He shouldn’t have accepted the stupid dare. So what if they made fun of him? It was better than braving Mount Osore at night. No point in turning back now, though. Not when he was nearly there.
The path widened and the ruined building appeared from between the trees. Hone-jo wasn’t an actual castle, but the nickname of an old two storey mansion rumored to have belonged to a lord. Nagisa had researched online, finding a few sparse details on a forum dating more than ten years back. The only current accounts available were those from people who claimed to have lost their friends to this place. Namely, drunks in a club in Aomori city whom Nagisa didn’t believe.But his friends had found the stories hilarious, daring him to climb all the way, and check the Castle of Bones.
Built on top of a base made of river rocks and twice Nagisa’s height, the castle was in a pitiful state. Its curved roof was chipped and the sliding papershojidoors and windows were full of holes or missing altogether, exposing the darkness within. Stone stairs led to double sliding wooden doors, the only ones still intact.
Large and imposing, the building did look like a small castle. The nickname made sense.
Nagisa shivered. All he had to do was go in, take a few pictures, and return to the hotel.Come on. You made it. Why be a coward now?
He checked his phone. Thankfully, there was still one signal bar and he could call the emergency services in case something happened. An unread message from his friends waited for him.
still alive?
yeah. taking a stroll through the castle.Nagisa typed back.
you and the ghosts. how romantic!
Nagisa sent a heart emoji, then pocketed his phone and rolled his eyes. He planned on scaring the living shit out of them when he returned.
Carefully ascending the stairs, Nagisa slid the double doors open with unexpected ease. He’d thought they’d be stuck. In fact, the entire entryway seemed to be in quite a good shape as if begging visitors to justcome in. He swallowed the knot in his throat and walked inside. A pungent smell of rot assaulted his nostrils. Dead animals? Or maybe dead humans, like the rumors said?
Nagisa pulled the collar of his T-shirt up to his nose, breathing in the smell of fresh detergent, and pushed forward. The entryway’s stone floor stood one step below the rest of the house, and its wooden walls were black with mold and possibly fungus, too. Nagisa grimaced and made a mental note not to touch anything. There must’ve been furniture here once, maybe a shoe cabinet and whatever else people kept in thegenkanentryway hundreds of years ago. It was empty now.
He climbed up the wooden step, walking into the main hallway. It stretched in three directions and he lit them with the flashlight, checking their length. Rooms extended on each side of the hallway, but he couldn’t tell how many. Coated in darkness, the castle’s interior gave the impression of being even more spacious than it probably was.
Since his friends required pictures as proof, he snapped a few, struggling with the phone’s flash. Browsing through them, he frowned. They were distorted and some had strange white spots. According to one of the people at the club, it was common knowledge that ghosts created such spots on cameras.
Bullshit.
Nagisa took more pictures, cursing under his breath. If they weren’t clear, his friends would make fun of him for shaking the camera in fear. Maybe the castle, ghosts and photos weren’t the problem. Maybe he just needed new friends.
Annoyed at the pictures’ quality, he gave up and decided to explore the middle hallway. If he ignored the cold and darkness, the castle wasn’t that scary.
The thin sliding doors of the rooms lay on the ground in pieces and thetatamifloor mats inside were torn apart and spotted with mold. Some of the painted parchments hanging on the walls had survived and Nagisa stepped into a room, mesmerized by one of the paintings. It depicted a man in a red and golden kimono who sat cross-legged in the grass, playing a flute. This might’ve been the castle’s lord in his youth. Nagisa imagined the sound of the flute, graceful, ethereal, traveling with the wind, through the trees, beyond the mountains. He could almost hear it. Beautiful. Magical…