As the train passed by Matsumoto Station and proceeded north, the scenery outside the window began to shift into white before my eyes. And as we came out of the tunnel... Well, it wasn't exactly a dramatic transformation like that, but it was almost like we had arrived in Snow Country. The mountains of Hakuba, stretching out alongside the tracks, reminded me of the back of a white horse, their namesake. Their pure white peaks glinted dazzlingly beneath a perfectly cloudless blue sky.
"Ah, we're almost there," Mari said, hearing the announcement that played throughout the train. Feeling as though a journey was coming to an end, I felt a twinge of disappointment. Naturally, though, our journey had only just begun.
That day, Mari was wearing a black turtleneck jumper and skinny jeans. The heating on board the train was stifling, so she had removed her jacket. Her hair was long, black and perfectly straight, her face small, eyes sparkling... She really is a cutie, I thought anew.
"Earth to Toru? Come on, get the luggage down."
"Oh, sorry."
I got to my feet and pulled our bags down from the luggage rack. We may only have been staying there for two nights, but the gear and clothing changes necessary for skiing had our bags bursting at the seams. Many passengers carried pairs of skis as well as their luggage. Was skiing really great enough fun that it was worth going to all this trouble? Mari had insisted that it would be, and I had come here trusting in her words, but that did nothing to quell my dread over whether I'd actually like it.
*
Several taxis and buses heading to ski resorts were parked on the roundabout outside of the station. Most of the passengers who had been spat out by the ski train made for them. Mari, on the other hand, surveyed the area, then waved as if she had spotted something.
"Uncle Jiro!"
A silver-grey station wagon that had sat a small distance away began to move, then came to a stop right before the two of us.
"Hey, Mari. Haven't seen your face for a while," said the man in the driver's seat, his face breaking into a grin. "Hop on in."
We tossed our luggage onto the back seat, then sat down next to each other in the middle.
"This is my uncle, Jiro Kobayashi. He's the owner of the pension Spur."
"Nice to meet you. Thanks for letting us stay." I ducked my head in a quick bow.
"No problem. You're Toru, right? I hear this is your first time skiing."
Mr. Kobayashi smiled at me in the rear-view mirror as he began to drive away. Mari seemed to have told him at least a little bit about me.
"Yeah, that's right."
"Mari's really going to put you through your paces. I hope you're ready."
"Uncle Jiro! I'm not that tough."
I laughed out loud, but it didn't take me long to realise that Mr. Kobayashi hadn't been joking around.
2
We hurriedly dropped off our luggage at our lodgings and got changed, borrowing two pairs of skis.
"You know how to drive, right?"
"Yeah. I guess so."
"Then sorry, but would you two mind going without me? We've got some more guests arriving soon. There's another car parked out back... Ah, here's the key."
I brought the RV around front, loaded in the skis, and we set off for the resort. By then it was almost noon, and we should probably have been grabbing lunch, but Mari seemed desperate to hit the slopes as soon as possible. Patches of firm snow covered the road in places, but I felt mostly safe in the four-wheel drive with its studless winter tyres.
We arrived at the slopes fifteen minutes later without getting lost once, thanks to signposts and the guidance of Mari, who seemed to have been there many times before. Since we'd been driving for fifteen minutes in a place with hardly any traffic lights, we had to have covered quite a distance. What an awkward place to build a ski pension in, I thought to myself. I began to worry whether the place would end up being empty except for us.
The car park was so close to the slopes that it shouldn't have taken more than a minute to make it from one to the other, but with me unused to wearing ski boots and carrying two heavy boards on my back, it felt like an eternity.
"...Mari... Let's... get lunch first."
"Don't be a crybaby," Mari said cruelly. "No way. Let's go for one ski first."
It took me half an hour to make it down the beginner's course, falling down every metre along the way. I was starving, exhausted, drenched in sweat, and covered in snow to boot.
"...Please, Mari... Let's grab some lunch now..."
Despite appearing unhappy at the prospect of wasting time eating lunch when she could be skiing, Mari must have been hungry, too. She indifferently tugged off her skis and reluctantly agreed to head to the cafeteria with me.
*
After finishing up a late lunch, yet another crash course awaited me. Thanks to the exertion and all of the tumbles I'd been taking, every muscle in my body was crying out in pain. Even still, by the time we left, I was just about able to slowly snowplough my way down the slope.
As the sun set, the sky suddenly began to cloud over, accompanied by an ominous wind. It was so cold that I was afraid my sweat-covered body would freeze solid if I didn't keep moving.
"Let's call it a day," I pleaded, watching Mari come sliding down from high above. She removed her goggles, studied the sky with a stern look on her face, and nodded.
"...Yeah. We'd better get a move on and go, by the looks of it."
"Really? They didn't mention anything like this on the forecast..."
Mari shook her head slowly. "No. It's gonna get stormy out here tonight. Let's get out of here."
As if lending credence to her prophetic words, it had begun to snow by the time we reached the car park and changed back into our normal shoes.
"I'll drive us back. Your body must be like jelly, huh, Toru?"
"...Yeah. Thanks."
Mari shot a little too recklessly down the road back to the pension. The drive must have taken ten minutes tops, but the sun had set completely by the time we arrived back, and the snow was beginning to fall in earnest.
"On nights like these..." Mari began to say.
"Huh? What about nights like this?"
Mari grinned, shaking her head. "Oh... it's nothing."
3
When we arrived back at Spur, I gave the building another, this time more thorough once over. The exterior resembled a log cabin, whereas the interior was white-themed and stylish. Every nook and cranny of the place was spotless and cosy-feeling.
We dropped our skis off in the drying room and headed indoors. Apparently having been notified of our arrival by the sound of the car, Mr. Kobayashi came out and greeted us.
"Welcome back. How'd he do?"
"About what you'd expect, I guess. I thought he might've had a bit more guts in him, to be honest."
"No minced words here. You might not be able to move tomorrow, Toru. I'll lend you some medicine for aching muscles. Make sure you put some on before bed."
"I will, thank you."
It was then that I noticed a middle-aged couple seated in the lounge, watching us. I bowed my head lightly in their direction.
"I suppose I should introduce you," said Mr. Kobayashi. "This is Mr. Kayama, a man who runs a company in Osaka and once helped me out a long time ago, and his wife, Haruko. Ths is my niece, Mari, and Toru, her friend from university."
"Hello there."
"Good afternoon."
"Your niece? She don't look it," the plump main referred to as Kayama said in a Kansai accent, looking Mari up and down carefully.
Taking a closer look at the woman introduced as Kayama's wife, I saw that she was youthful-looking and pretty, someone you would struggle to believe was truly middle-aged. She smiled cheerfully at us without a word, inclining her head lightly in our direction.
"Out there for a while, was ya? You look knackered."
"Y-yeah, I guess we were..." I glanced over at Mari, forcing a smile.
"Oh, not at all," she replied, however, feigning innocence. "If anything, I wish we could've stayed longer."
"Dinner's at seven. You should get changed and have a shower," said Mr. Kobayashi, disappearing into the kitchen.
*
Unfortunately... or naturally... or appropriately... Mari and I were given separate rooms. The room had a modular bath attached, so I quickly rinsed the sweat off of my body and changed my clothes before collapsing onto the bed. Mari really didn't know when to call it a day.
Just as I was beginning to nod off, I heard a knock at the door.
"Toru? What're you up to? I'm heading downstairs."
...Yeah, sure.
I dragged myself sluggishly off of the bed and made my way down to the lounge with Mari. In addition to the Kayamas we had met earlier, three young women were sitting inside. Mari and I took our seats in the corner.
The women, who had what appeared to be an informational magazine spread out between them, were giggling and conversing about something in voices too low for us to hear. The one in the middle, a thin, long-haired girl referred to as 'Kana', was drawing on the magazine using a red pen she held in her left hand. Maybe it was an Italian place she had her sights set on, or something like that.
The one on the right, called 'Keiko', was a little on the chubby side, and her hair was cut into a short, cute style. On the left, wearing a pair of large glasses, was a girl named 'Aki'.
"Which one were you checking out?" Mari whispered icily.
"None! That's not why I was looking at them!"
As I attempted to explain, the cuckoo clock on the wall signalled that it was seven o'clock. I glanced at my watch. The numbers on its digital dial read 18:55. I hadn't set it recently, and apparently it was now running slow.
Hearing a tut, I looked over in the direction from which it came, and saw Mr. Kayama setting his own watch. Unlike my own cheap watch, his appeared to be an expensive, hand-wound one, so perhaps it had to be set frequently.
As if he had been waiting for the cuckoo to stop tweeting, Mr. Kobayashi came into the lounge.
"Dinner is served. Please make your way to the dining room."
While I usually would have considered it too early to be eating dinner, I realised that thanks to the intense workout I was already starving. It took every ounce of my self control not to break into a run. As the part-time girl and Mr. Kobayashi's wife brought in our meals, Mr. Kobayashi began briefly introducing everyone present.
"...And these three are Ran, Sue and Miki... Just kidding. I mean Kanako Watase, Keiko Kitano and Aki Kawamura. They're from Tokyo."
The trio giggled, bowing their heads at no one in particular.
"The quiet gentleman over there gave his name as Ichiro Tanaka."
All of us automatically looked over at the man wearing sunglasses. He didn't react at all to Mr. Kobayashi's introduction, and for a moment I wondered if we had the right guy, but we must have. There was no one else left. A heavy silence briefly fell upon us.
"Alright, then, enjoy," Mr. Kobayashi said cheerfully.
Our meal was as delicious as it was large. By the time he'd finished his after dinner coffee, even the blank-faced man in sunglasses seemed to be wearing a satisfied smile. But when Mr. Kobayashi invited him to come into the lounge, he turned him down with a clear look of annoyance and hastily retreated upstairs.
In the end, the rest of us all assembled in the lounge without him, and decided to pass the time with idle chit-chat. No sooner had we all sat down, however, than suddenly all of the lights flickered, then went out. Girls' screams flitted about in the darkness. I felt someone's hand grope my arm, then grab onto it. It was Mari―Mari's hand. I placed my own hand over hers in reassurance.
Amidst the darkness, I caught sight of my watch's display. It read 20:15.
"W-what's goin' on? Power cut?" I heard Mr. Kayama say, an understandable note of panic in his voice.
"Everything's alright, everyone! Please don't panic. I'll go and fetch us some candles right away."
I could make out Mr. Kobayashi walking swiftly in the darkness. Suddenly, a small light filled the room. He had found the torch he made sure to keep on hand for situations like this.
"Would you come with me, Kyoko?"
The two of them disappeared from the lounge along with the torchlight, leaving us enveloped in darkness once more.
"No!"
"Unbelievable!"
"Aki? You there?"
"Yeah, I'm here."
The three girls were whispering amongst themselves.
"Don't worry," I said, touching Mari's hand. "It'll all be fixed in no time."
Even through her jumper, as she clung to my arm, I could tell how soft her chest was. I felt someone's heart pounding extra strongly at the point where we touched, though I couldn't tell whether it was hers or mine. Weirdly, I found myself worrying that she might realise that my face was on fire if the lights were to come back on now.
At that moment, the torch light returned. The Kobayashis appeared to have brought back several candles with them. They set them upon the large table and lit them, illuminating our surroundings enough that I could just barely make out the faces of the others.
"Looks like the wind's got pretty strong. If a power line somewhere got taken out, we might not be able to get the electricity back tonight," Mr. Kobayashi said apologetically.
"What? But there was something on TV tonight I wanted to watch." The petty complaint came from Aki Kawamura, one of the three girls. "Don't you have your own generator or something?"
"Situations like this are rare enough. It never seemed worth it."
Mari seemed reassured by the light. She pulled away from me and got up, then headed over to the window and pulled back the curtain, peering outside.
"It's so dark that it's hard to tell, but I think it's snowing really hard out there."
"I'm very sorry, everyone, but given the circumstances, it might be best for us all to have an early night tonight," said Mr. Kobayashi.
"Since it's all dark and creepy, this would be the perfect time to tell some ghost stories, don't you think?" suggested Midori, the part-time girl.
"Oh, no! I'm way too much of a scaredy-cat!" Keiko Kitano said happily. Liar, I thought silently.
I really couldn't stomach scary stories myself, but I stayed quiet.
"You mean going around in a circle? Cool, let's do it," Toshio cut in. The flickering candlelight cast across his face made it look creepy.
"Hold your horses, Toshio," said Mr. Kobayashi. "If anyone would rather head back to their room, I'll accompany you. You can take a candle, too. Anyone?"
No one took Mr. Kobayashi up on his offer. They probably felt safer sticking together. I wondered to myself whether it would be scarier to listen to ghost stories as part of a group, or to be all by myself in a dark room.
In the end, I decided to stay with Mari―but that turned out to have been a mistake.
4
With the heating not working, we lit a kerosene heater, and everyone wrapped themselves up in blankets. Then, Mari began.
"This is actually a true story."
The classic beginning to any ghost story. It wasn't true, obviously, but I gulped nonetheless.
"Me and my uncle have an ancestor called Kyuzaemon Kobayashi, who was a large landowner in these parts. He owned so much of the land around here that it's said virtually everything as far as the eye could see from the summit of the mountain belonged to him. It's not a very nice story, but he was apparently a pretty awful guy who milked the peasants who farmed his land dry. Right, Uncle Jiro?"
"Let's not tell that story," Mr. Kobayashi said bitterly. "It's not very interesting."
"Why not? It's a fun story. So, anyway―you've heard of kamaitachi, right, Toru?"
"Kamaitachi? You mean the thing where a vacuum or something is created inside a whirlwind that cuts you?"
"Yeah. Loads of people around here claim they've been hurt by kamaitachi―especially on nights like tonight, in the midst of a blizzard when the wind's like ice."
I'd heard tales of the phenomenon, but assumed they were nothing more than mere superstition.
"As it turns out, most of the people who run into kamaitachi are men. People here say that the souls of women who die in misery come back as kamaitachi, and slice the men who scorned them to ribbons."
Was that the only meagre form of revenge a helpless woman was capable of exacting? I wondered.
"Apparently, Kyuzaemon was a major womaniser, and whenever he set his sights on a girl, he'd get his hands on her no matter what. One time, he had his way with a village girl who was already engaged to be married, and she killed herself by biting through her tongue, placing a curse on Kyuzaemon as she died."
Mari shook her head sadly.
Was the story she was telling really true, passed down throughout generations of her family? I felt an unpleasant sensation akin to insects crawling down my back.
"From then onwards, whenever Kyuzaemon left the house, he'd be assaulted by kamaitachi. Sometimes, it'd be bad enough that he'd return home with his clothes ragged and torn. Eventually, it got to the point where he avoided going outside altogether on windy days. And then one evening, a year to the day of the woman's death, there was a huge blizzard just like this one. Kyuzaemon sequestered himself in the innermost parlour of his mansion, even having his meals brought to him. But he didn't get up the following morning, and when a maidservant went to check on him, she found him lying in a big pool of blood."
I heard someone gulp.
"It was the gaping slit across his throat that had killed him, but his entire body was smothered with cuts. The tatami mat and futon beneath him had been cut to ribbons, too. Only the spot where he'd been sleeping, though―the rest of the room was pristine, almost as if a kamaitachi had manifested solely in that one place and run wild."
We all sat in silence for a while. Then, all of a sudden, a window slammed open, frigid wind and snow blasting in through it and extinguishing each of the candles in the blink of an eye. My heart felt like it might stop.
"Aaah!"
The girls' shrieks echoed in the darkness. I'd got halfway to my feet and yelled something, too.
Someone shut the window, then relit the candles. It was Mr. Kobayashi.
"Calm down, calm down. I just hadn't closed it properly, that's all. At least that happy coincidence helped you scare the living daylights out of us all."
His voice was shrill. Even despite surely knowing the story, he seemed unsurprisingly startled.
"It wasn't a coincidence," said Mari. "When I got up earlier, I tied a loop of yarn around the window, so that when I tugged on it, it'd pull the latch open. Tug a bit harder, and you pull the loop off and reel it back in."
I couldn't believe it―Mari had totally fooled us all. Not that the revelation did anything to quell the frantic hammering of my heart.
Suddenly, the lights flickered back on, bathing the room in a white glow. The power was back. We all breathed sighs of relief. I felt at ease again.
"How about I make us all some tea?" said Kyoko.
I realised that my throat was bone dry.
"Oh, I need to run to the bathroom real quick," said Kanako Watase, getting up.
"Me too," echoed the other two girls, standing up as well. With Midori now also in tow, they swarmed off in the direction of the bathroom.
I knew they were probably freaked out by the story we'd just heard, but even then, why did girls always insist on going to the bathroom together?
As I pondered the question, I suddenly realised that I wanted to go to the bathroom, too.
5
By the time we all got back from the bathroom, the tea was ready. A delicious, floral aroma wafted from it.
"Ooh, that smells great! What sort of tea is it?" asked Mari.
"It's lavender tea," replied Mrs. Kobayashi. "Unusual, isn't it?"
We blew on the hot tea to cool it, taking slow sips and savouring the taste. Midori, who finally seemed to have relaxed thanks to the drink, spoke.
"Hey, Mari―were you the one who came up with that story you told us earlier? It was pretty good."
"Huh? It was a true story. Right, Uncle Jiro?"
Mr. Kobayashi had a slight frown on his face, but nodded. The girls exchanged worried glances.
"Told you so," Mari said proudly, looking back at Midori. There was a brief silence, and then Midori began to howl with laughter.
"Oh, stop it! Were you in on this, Mr. Kobayashi? You almost had me fooled for a minute there!"
Oh, so that's all it was, I thought, but my relief was short-lived.
"No, really. That story actually has been passed down through our family. I also know for a fact that one of our ancestors died horribly, because I looked into it once, years ago. I don't believe a word of the rubbish about kamaitachi or women bearing grudges."
Even if it had happened a long time ago, Mr. Kobayashi seemed to struggle with talking about his ancestor. I suspected that it had less to do with the story being scary, and more to do with him being ashamed of his family's sordid past.
Seeing him so pained took the wind out of everyone's sails, and in the end, no one else put themselves forward to tell any more ghost stories. I was grateful―I was already beginning to doubt whether I'd be able to sleep alone that night after Mari's story.
"O-oh, right, there was something on TV I wanted to watch." It was, of course, Aki, the girl in the glasses, who'd spoken. "Excuse me. Goodnight."
She stood up, and the other two girls followed suit, the three of them heading back to their room together.
"How about we ditch the ghost stories and play a game instead?" suggested Mr. Kobayashi.
Mr. Kayama heaved himself out of his chair wearily. "I fink we should leave the kids to it. Me an' the missus are off to bed."
The cuckoo clock hanging on the wall struck 9PM. In the end, there were only six of us left in the lounge: me, Mari, the part-timers Midori and Toshio, and the Kobayashis.
Toshio retrieved a deck of cards, and we played Napoleon together for a while. The blizzard showed no sign of letting up, but fortunately for us, the power stayed on.
"Oh, it's almost eleven already," said Mr. Kobayashi. "I think it's about time we called it a night."
I let out a yawn, wondering where the time had gone. I imagined that I must look like an anime character realising that there was no ground beneath his feet before plummeting into the abyss, the thought amusing me. Part of me wanted to sneak into Mari's room, but I was dead on my feet, and decided to just go straight to bed instead.
"Goodnight."
Mari and I each headed back to our rooms, leaving the Kobayashis and the two part-timers behind in the lounge.
Since Spur didn't really have single rooms, both Mari and I had twin rooms. Each of the two beds were made from warm-hued wood in a Scandinavian style. Though apparently not a feature of every room, I also had a TV and VCR. I could have borrowed a tape to watch from Mr. Kobayashi if I'd felt like it, but obviously, I was far too tired.
By the time I'd changed into my pyjamas and climbed into bed, the clock on the video player read 23:10. As I watched the numbers blink, an indistinct thought rose from the depths of my mind, but before I could figure out what it was, I drifted into a deep sleep.
6
...Someone was shaking me and calling my name.
"Come on, Toru, wake up!"
It was Mari.
I cracked my eyes open. The place must've felt so cosy and homey that I'd forgotten to lock the door.
"What time is it?"
"It's already twenty to nine. Weren't you listening when they said breakfast starts at half past eight?"
I looked over at the VCR. The blinking numbers on the clock read 8:20.
"But it's only twenty past. ...I'll be right down."
Mari tilted her head in confusion. "Huh? That's weird. Oh well. Everyone else has started eating already, so."
"...Fine. Can you leave now?"
"Huh?"
"...Do you want to watch me get changed or something?"
Idiot, Mari muttered, her cheeks flushed, as she left the room.
I hurriedly threw on some clothes and made my way downstairs, but it turned out that Mari had been wrong when she'd said that everyone had already started eating. There were only seven people seated at the tables, meaning that there was one person missing. It didn't take me long to figure out who: Tanaka, the man in the sunglasses.
"Where's that guy who was wearing the sunglasses?" I asked Midori as she filled my cup with coffee.
"Still asleep, it looks like. I knocked on his door a bunch, but he hasn't come out."
That was weird. He'd been the first one to retreat to his room.
Ultimately, by the time we were done eating, Mr. Tanaka still hadn't appeared downstairs. The rest of us all filed into the lounge.
"I guess there's no point getting up early when the weather's like this," Mari said, staring out of the window.
The snow still showed no sign of stopping, concealing our surroundings behind a curtain of white.
"Is it gonna be like this all day? Are we just stuck indoors twiddling our thumbs?" I said to no one in particular.
"According to the forecast, the current low-pressure system will be sticking around into the night," Mr. Kobayashi answered. "They've even issued an avalanche warning."
"What? But we've gotta be getting back today!" Kanako Watase whined, as if Mr. Kobayashi was responsible for the weather.
"It's too dangerous out there; you'd be better off staying here for today. And besides, I thought you only just got your licence? Stay one more night, for your own sakes. I'll only charge you for meals."
Kanako turned to her two companions. "Well? What do you guys think?"
"What other choice do we have?" said Keiko. "We can't go anywhere."
"Yeah, but remember how reluctant our manager was to give us time off in the first place? When he hears that all three of us aren't coming in tomorrow, either, he'll hit the roof."
"Oh well, too bad," said Keiko.
"She's right. Nothing else for it. Let's stay here," Aki agreed.
Whether I liked it or not, I couldn't help but overhear their conversation. Even once the girls had made up their minds to stick around, they immediately began to argue instead over which of them should phone in to work and break the bad news.
I idly watched Mr. Kobayashi head upstairs, as if he'd suddenly remembered something.
"You're his favourite, Kana. You should do it."
"No way am I his favourite. It should be Aki. She said he touched her ass the other day."
"Are you kidding? That's sexual harassment!"
"Yeah, that's exactly what it is."
...Listening to girls chatting for too long always gave me a headache. I glanced over at Mari, hoping that we might be able to sneak away for some alone time, but at that moment Mr. Kobayashi reappeared downstairs, shaking his head.
"Is everything okay?"
"Fine, fine... One of our guests isn't getting up, that's all. Maybe he's not in his room."
"You mean that Tanaka guy?" I asked. Mr. Kobayashi nodded.
"It's almost ten already, and with how many times we've knocked on his door, there's no way he hasn't heard it."
"Is the door locked?"
"It is, but I have the master key. I was just wondering whether or not I should use it. What if he's fallen and hit his head or something?"
"Have you tried calling... Oh, wait, you can't."
Mr. Kobayashi was adamant that work and play be kept separate, and as such, none of the guest rooms at Spur were furnished with telephones.
The cuckoo in the clock began to sing. It must have been ten o'clock, though my own watch, five minutes slow as usual, still read 9:55.
"Would you mind coming with me?" Mr. Kobayashi asked me once the cuckoo had fallen silent. "I don't really like the idea of going into a guest's room by myself."
"Sure," I replied.
With Mari naturally tagging along, the three of us headed upstairs to the guest rooms. We came to a stop outside Mr. Tanaka's room, and Mr. Kobayashi knocked on the door one last time, just to be sure.
"Mr. Tanaka? Are you there?"
We listened carefully for a few seconds, but no reply came from within. Admitting defeat, Mr. Kobayashi took out a keyring, inserted one of the keys into the lock, and turned it with a click. Then, he opened the door and poked his head inside the room.
"Mr. Tanaka? Mr. T-..."
I saw his entire body tense up.
"Uncle Jiro? What's wrong?" Mari asked from behind us.
Mr. Kobayashi ignored her, quietly pushing the door open and stealthily creeping inside. The two of us followed after him. I could see the edge of the bed over his shoulder.
"What's that smell?" Mari asked with a frown, covering her mouth and nose with her hand.
She was right―a foul stench hung in the air, like a mixture of fish and rusty iron. What was it?
"My God...!" Mr. Kobayashi murmured, stopping in front of the bed.
The layout of the room was the same as mine: a prefab bathroom to the left of the door, and two beds side by side, plus a TV and VCR.
Mr. Tanaka―or perhaps I should say what used to be Mr. Tanaka―still lay in the bed closest to the door. At first, I simply mused that the sheets in his room were a strange colour, but it didn't take me long to realise my mistake: Mr. Kobayashi never would have chosen such sheets; he had far better taste than that.
Both sheets, the pillow and blanket were all completely saturated with dark red liquid. There could be no doubt about it: the stains were clearly blood that had oozed from the body of Mr. Tanaka, lying on top of it all.
7
Mr. Tanaka's body was covered with gashes, but most of the blood appeared to have come from a gaping wound in his throat so large that it almost looked like a second mouth.
"Aaaaaah!" Mari screamed, and dashed out of the room. Though I noticed her leave, I couldn't bring myself to go after her, or to take my eyes off of the dead body before me.
"Kamaitachi..." Mr. Kobayashi murmured, his face as white as a sheet.
"Huh?" I asked, confused, but he said nothing.
Hearing a commotion, I realised that a gaggle of people―probably alerted by Mari's scream―had gathered outside and were peering into the room.
"Ky-... Kyoko! Are you there?" Mr. Kobayashi called, keeping his eyes trained on the corpse.
"I'm here... What happened?" she replied from the doorway. Mr. Kobayashi turned to face her.
"I need you to... To call the police," he said slowly. "Tell them that... that a guest is dead."
I heard someone let out a muffled scream.
"...Come on, Toru. Let's head outside."
Mr. Kobayashi placed a hand on my back and started towards the door. After swallowing what felt like a rock, I spoke up.
"Shouldn't we make sure he's actually dead?"
Mr. Kobayashi spun around to face me in shock. "Just look at him! No one could lose that much blood and..."
He trailed off into silence, but I continued.
"If we check to see whether he's warm or cold, we might be able to figure out how long he's been dead for."
When I stopped to think about it, I was shocked by how indifferent I was in the face of such a grisly sight.
"...That's not our job. Let's not interfere."
Once we had left the room, Mr. Kobayashi locked the door once more. Then, shepherding the others―who had been waiting outside with bated breath―away from the scene, we headed back down to the lounge.
"Honey..."
Kyoko was standing at the front desk, phone receiver in her hand, her face ashen.
"The phone... It's not working..."
"What?"
Mr. Kobayashi quickly took the receiver from his wife and repeatedly pressed down on the hook.
"You're right... Looks like the line's down. What about ours?"
They must have had a phone using a different line in their bedroom.
"Totally silent. Just like this one," said Kyoko, slowly shaking her head from side to side.
All of us were watching Mr. Kobayashi intently. As he slowly cast his gaze over to the window, our eyes followed.
"No one's getting down the mountain until tomorrow."
"Is there anywhere nearby with a phone we could use?" I asked.
"If we could get a car through all that snow then sure, but... If anyone were to go walking around in the middle of such a nasty blizzard..." Mr. Kobayashi trailed off, biting his tongue, and shook his head.
If the phone lines had been taken out by snow or the like, it was possible that all of the other phones in the area were dead, too, anyway.
"I've got it!" Mr. Kayama, who had been listening uneasily, exclaimed suddenly. "Me phone. I've brought me mobile phone with me. 'Ang on a sec."
A mobile phone, huh? If we had one of those, it wouldn't matter whether or not the landline was working. But as Mr. Kayama got up to head back to his room, Mr. Kobayashi stopped him.
"Don't bother. The reception is so bad around here that mobiles don't work."
"Ugh! But I've gotta call in to work!"
It was Kana, the OL, of course―who else would be complaining about such a thing at a time like this?
Everyone sat in silence for a while.
"...Are we gonna have to leave him there like that all day long?" Mari murmured with a shudder, probably recalling the glimpse she'd caught of the body.
Banishing the grisly image from my mind, I spoke. "I think the more important question is who killed him. They might still be nearby."
Everyone gasped, looking around the room at one another. It was almost like... like they suspected each other.
"Uh, no!" I hastily added. "What I'm trying to say is that maybe the killer hasn't run very far yet, so..."
Even as I spoke, I was aware of how unconvincing I sounded. Everyone from the lodge was present. It seemed far-fetched that someone could have sneaked in from outside in the midst of a blizzard, killed Mr. Tanaka, and slipped back out again. Then that would mean that... the killer was one of us? Horrified, I looked at the faces of each person in the group.
Mr. Kobayashi seemed utterly at a loss over the unexpected situation. His wife was concerned by the state he was in. The two part-timers seemed basically like bystanders. The three OLs were huddled up together, trembling. Mr. Kayama was holding his wife's hand reassuringly, but she seemed somewhat annoyed. And Mari... Mari was gripping onto my elbow tightly with both hands, her face ashen, quaking with fear.
Each and every one of them was shocked in their own way, appearing bewildered or frightened. Could the killer really be amongst us? I didn't believe it for a second.
"Shouldn't we check the locks, Mr. Kobayashi? See if we can find any signs of an intruder?" I said. Mr. Kobayashi's face brightened just a little.
"Yeah. You're right. We probably should do that. Alright. Toru, Mr. Kayama, Toshio―would you come with me?"
It seemed like he wanted just us men to go and make our rounds of the building. We nodded solemnly.
"Great. Kyoko and Midori can make us all some drinks."
"Be careful," Mari whispered as I made to leave.
We moved together as one, checking the locks on all of the windows and doors, starting on the ground floor before moving upstairs. Despite our reluctance, we would have no choice but to go back into the room with the dead body in it. Mr. Kayama and Toshio seemed to be brimming with curiosity before entering, but the sight must have been even worse than they'd imagined, because I saw the colour drain from both of their faces in an instant.
Toshio let out a groan and pressed a hand to his mouth, as if trying to resist the urge to throw up. I did my best to avoid looking, but the stench made my stomach turn. Maybe I was imagining things, but it seemed to have got even worse than before.
Just as expected, the window was locked. And at any rate, if someone had come in from the outside in this weather, they surely would have left damp patches on the floor. I could see nothing of the sort.
"We forgot about the drying room!" I said, the realisation hitting suddenly. No ski pension could do without a drying room. You couldn't just head inside with your skis and boots all covered in snow―anyone coming in from outside would have to head to the drying room first to take off their shoes and set out their skis to dry off. Then, you could go inside without getting everything wet. If the person who killed Mr. Tanaka was an outsider, the drying room was the only conceivable way they could've got inside.
We headed back downstairs and made our way to the drying room. The door had no lock, so we'd gone past it earlier without checking it out. Inside the room, everyone's skis and boots were arranged in an orderly fashion against the wall. None of the items had so much as a drop of water on them, let alone snow. The area around the door leading outside was completely dry, too. Unlike the other door, this one did bear a lock, and it seemed to be shut up tight.
"Nope," said Mr. Kobayashi, shaking his head. "Nobody could've got in through here, either. No one's been in or out of the pension." It was evident from his tone that he knew exactly what implications this revelation carried.
...The killer was one of us.
We headed back to the lounge, a sombre silence hanging over us. The women, who had been sitting quietly with their cups of coffee, snapped around to look at us. We took our seats on the sofa wordlessly, and Midori, looking worried, brought coffee over to us. I'd sat down next to Mari, obviously.
"So... How did it go?" she asked me, seeming like she'd finally managed to calm down somewhat. It was Mr. Kobayashi who answered.
"There were no signs of anyone having been in or out."
We all fell silent for a while, seemingly digesting what he'd said. Mr. Kobayashi turned to his wife.
"So... Is the phone still down?"
"Yes. It doesn't seem like it's working at all."
Suddenly, Kana burst into tears. Aki and Keiko sat either side of her, attempting to soothe her, but both looked like they wanted to cry themselves.
"Is it true that a kamaitachi got him?" Midori asked Mr. Kobayashi, watching the girls coldly.
The question came so out of the blue that we were all left dumbfounded, but the girls all seemed to be waiting for him to reply. Mari must've told them about the state the body was in.
Belatedly, I realised what Mr. Kobayashi had meant when he'd muttered kamaitachi... to himself earlier: Mr. Tanaka's death exactly mirrored the ghost story that Mari had told us. Mr. Kobayashi seemed to try laughing it off, but with little success.
"Who'd you hear that from? Don't be ridiculous. His body was in an awful state, I'll give you that, but it was obviously the work of a human being. Even if the guy was a monster wearing human skin, there's no such thing as a kamaitachi in the first place."
"Then who was it?"
"I don't know. That's for the police to work out, not us."
"I know that, but... But... The police aren't coming!"
"We'll figure something out tomorrow. We just have to be patient until then."
"You don't seriously expect me to stay trapped in here with a murderer until tomorrow!?" Midori cried.
We all exchanged looks once again. I was shocked to see a display of such hysterics from Midori, but maybe, given the circumstances, it was understandable. Not one of the people present looked as if they would hurt a fly, and yet someone here―feigning shock as they sipped coffee along with the rest of us―had sliced Mr. Tanaka's throat open. I couldn't trust anyone or anything.
"Who was that guy, though?" Toshio murmured shortly. "Someone here must've known him."
He raised an important point. The man hadn't seemed to have been acquainted with any of us. No one would've had a reason to kill him. At least I didn't, anyway.
"He signed in as Ichiro Tanaka from Setagaya, Tokyo," said Mr. Kobayashi in reminiscence. "It didn't seem like he'd come here to ski, though. I did think it was a bit odd."
"Something tells me that's not his real name," said Toshio.
I agreed. And those sunglasses... Just what had he been doing at the pension?
"I wonder what made him choose this place?" I asked. "Had he stayed here before, or been told about it by a friend?"
"No. He didn't mention anything like that to me."
"How long was he supposed to be staying here for?"
"He said he wanted a room for two nights."
"Oi, Kobayashi," Mr. Kayama cut in, looking fed up. "Why don't we go back up to 'is room an' go froo 'is belongin's? Maybe they'll tell us somefin' about 'im."
"I don't think that's a good idea... We should leave everything as it is until the police arrive..."
"Well, suit yerself, but if you leave the body in an 'eated room, that fing's gunna start to decompose."
The mere thought of that blood-soaked corpse beginning to rot filled my mind with revolting images.
"Can't you turn off the heating for just his room?" I said.
"We have central heating here. I have no way of doing that."
I'd assumed as much, due to the lack of any heating controls in the rooms. If we turned the heating off altogether, then we'd probably all freeze to death. If we didn't, it wouldn't be long before the stench of decay began to waft throughout the building.
"Waaaah!"
Kana let out an even shriller wail, and the other girls began to sob, too. I covered Mari's hand with my own. As if my act had served as some sort of cue, she spoke up.
"Is it possible that maybe the killer sneaked in last night, before you'd finished locking up?"
Mr. Kobayashi nodded. "Maybe. If so, they wouldn't have had to force any of the locks open. But how would they have locked up after them as they left?"
"What if they didn't leave?"
Mr. Kobayashi was speechless. The killer didn't leave? But wouldn't that mean that they were in there with us right now? Mari continued.
"Maybe they're planning on making a run for it once they can get their car back on the road."
Our eyes all spontaneously travelled up towards the ceiling―to the room where the body lay. Was the killer still upstairs? We'd only been checking out the locks when we'd gone up there earlier. It wasn't inconceivable that they might have hidden themselves away out of sight. I found that far more believable than the idea that one of the people in the room with me was a murderer.
"Well, even if we suppose that's the case," I blurted, lips moving faster than my brain, "wouldn't they try to stop us from calling the police for as long as possible?"
"What do you mean?" asked Mari.
"...They might try to shut us up."
"You don't really think... they're going to kill us all...?"
"It doesn't necessarily have to be that drastic. Cutting the phone line or something like that, though..."
Realisation dawned on me as I spoke. Mari's eyes widened.
"No way..."
"I think we should take a look," Toshio said animatedly. "If you're right, and someone really did cut the line, we can fix it and call for the police."
Mr. Kayama got to his feet, too. "'Ang about! If what you're sayin' is true, surely the murderer's a higher priority than the blower? Let's find 'em an' tie em' up!"
"We don't know how violent this guy might be. I think the smart move right now is to stay out of it. Let's focus on getting through to the police."
"Don't be stupid. Even if the phone was workin', 'ow are the coppers supposed to get 'ere in this weather? We should be focusin' our efforts on catchin' the killer, so we can all sleep soundly no matter 'ow long it takes 'em to arrive."
I could understand both points of view, but Mr. Kayama's plan sounded like it had a better chance of success.
"Let's start by searching the building," I said. "If we don't, we won't even feel safe going to the bathroom by ourselves."
Toshio looked dissatisfied. "I just don't see how anyone could possibly have sneaked in here without someone spotting them."
"Are you trying to say that one of the people here is the killer, then, Toshio?"
"No, I didn't mean it like--..."
Mr. Kobayashi cut in, stopping the argument in its tracks. "Very well. We should go ahead and search the place. Let's not let the killer catch us off guard if we can help it."
Mr. Kobayashi suggested that, like last time, the four of us men carry out the search. If Mari had been her usual self, she probably would have accused him of sexism, but on this occasion she remained silent.
We began with the kitchen and dining room, checking everything from the space beneath the tables to the fridge. We looked behind the counter at the front desk. The bathroom. The storeroom. We went back to take another look inside the drying room, too. No one was hiding in any of them. We even checked the Kobayashis' room and staff quarters, but they were all empty.
We moved on to the first floor. Since we'd already done our rounds of the upstairs earlier, this time we simply took a cursory look under the beds and inside the closets. Of course, we found nothing.
"The only place left is the room where the body is," said Toshio.
"You don't think they've been hiding in there this whole time...?"
"Fink about it," said Mr. Kayama. "The door was locked, an' the window was closed. That's weird, innit? Where'd the killer come from?"
We stood outside Mr. Tanaka's room, rooted to the spot in fear, staring at the door.
"...Then they really must be in there...?"
As I spoke, the image of a man standing on the other side of the door, breath bated and a large razor in hand, sprang into my mind. The moment one of us set foot inside, there would be a glint of silver, followed by a shower of blood gushing from someone's throat...!
I was being ridiculous. Of course that wasn't going to happen. But in that case, I'd have to come up with an explanation for how the killer could've slipped out of a locked room. Or should I consider that, just like in Mari's ghost story, his throat had been shredded by a kamaitachi born from a woman's grudge?
"Don't be daft," said Mr. Kobayashi. "They couldn't just have been waiting around in there all this time. They must've left the room as soon as they were done."
"What about the lock, though?" I asked. Mr. Kobayashi responded with a snort.
"What about it? The locks on the doors here have buttons inside them. If you press the button, the door automatically locks itself."
Ahh, the rest of us murmured. I mentally shook myself off and tried another tack.
"In any case, that room is the last one. If there isn't anyone hiding inside it..."
"I know," said Mr. Kobayashi gravely. "We'd be forced to admit that the killer is one of us." He inserted the key into the lock. "Here goes. I'm opening it."
I heard someone gulp. We stood on our guards as Mr. Kobayashi pushed the door open.
The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. The suffocating odour of blood hung in the air. The first to enter was Toshio, cautiously taking a step inside the room. It struck me as somewhat strange to go inside a room we'd once entered so casually in such a manner, but I couldn't blame him.
To our left was the closet; to our right, the bathroom. Both of these spots, just inside the door, seemed capable of concealing a person. What would we do if the door suddenly slammed open and a bloodthirsty killer leapt out at us? We hadn't even brought any weapons with us.
Toshio indicated the closet with his eyes. We split into pairs, two of us standing on either side of it, and on the count of three, Toshio wrenched the curtain open.
...The only thing inside it was a coat with a faux fur-lined collar. Someone let out a sigh of relief.
Next up was the bathroom. All four of us turned around. This time, it was my turn to open the door. I waited for everyone to give me a nod, and then tugged on the doorknob with all of my might. Suddenly, from behind the door, pounced... nothing.
The shower curtain was pulled back, and the bathtub was empty. Droplets of crimson blood speckled the cream-coloured ceramic washbasin. Had the killer used it to wash off the victim's blood?
"All that's left to check is the beds, I guess..." Mr. Kayama said unhappily.
I was certain there was no way anyone would hide beneath a dead body, but Mr. Kobayashi obligingly took a look anyway. He first checked under the bed closest to the window, then under the one the corpse lay atop. I hadn't meant to look at the body, but once my eyes accidentally fell upon it, I found myself unable to tear them away.
By chance, my gaze drifted over to his left hand, which wasn't caked with blood. He was wearing a watch. If the watch had broken at the time of the murder, maybe we'd be able to figure out exactly when the crime had taken place. I approached the body to investigate, but my hopes were dashed: his digital watch, which looked a good deal more expensive than my own, still worked.
11:16.
I reflexively checked my own watch.
11:16.
The blinking display on the room's VCR read 11:05. What the hell was going on?
"Mr. Kayama? What time is it right now?"
"Hmm? ...It's five past eleven," said Mr. Kayama, glancing at his own watch.
Why had clocks been giving me such a headache today? For the time being, I elected to ignore it.
"Come on, let's get out of here," said Mr. Kobayashi. "No one's hiding in here."
We all filed out of the room. Something about it all was bugging me, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't put my finger on what it was.
8
The four of us returned to the lounge with mixed emotions. Though no one said a word, it must have been plain that we hadn't uncovered any hidden murderers. Seeing the look on my face, Mari cast her eyes down at the ground.
"So the killer really is one of us, then."
An even heavier silence than before fell over us. Whatever wishful thinking we'd been clinging to had shattered into a million pieces.
"I can't take this anymore!" Kana yelled, suddenly rising to her feet. "Who was it? Who killed him? ...You know what? I don't care. Whichever one of you did this, just leave the rest of us out of it, okay? Please..."
She dissolved into a fresh wave of tears, and I couldn't understand another word she said after that. Mr. Kobayashi, who had been staring at her in silence, finally spoke.
"For today, at least, we can't call for help or leave the pension. Not when there's a killer in our midst."
Kana's sobs grew even more hysterical.
"They've already killed once. I'm sure they won't hesitate to strike again if that's what it takes for them to get away. We all need to stick to each other like glue at all times. As long as we're together, the killer's hands are tied."
"What if we need the bathroom?" asked Keiko as she rubbed Kana's back.
"...There's a bathroom right over there, so you can use that. If you absolutely must go back to your room for some reason or another, just make sure you take a couple of others with you."
I wondered if it might actually be safer for us to go one at a time while everyone else was all grouped up together, but maybe Mr. Kobayashi was trying to make sure the killer couldn't escape, either.
"Oh, right," I said, remembering. "What about the phone line...?"
"That's right. I'll go and check it right away."
Mr. Kobayashi headed to the front desk and picked up the receiver. From his reaction, I could tell that it still wasn't working. Then, following the cable, he located the phone socket and made sure it was plugged in properly.
"Well, I figured as much. Payphone's not working, either. I guess there's nothing else for it: we'll have to go outside."
Since Mr. Kayama declined to come with us, it was Toshio, Mr. Kobayashi and me who ended up venturing outside. We retrieved our coats from our rooms and bundled ourselves up tightly, then pulled on some gloves. Once we'd put our shoes on, we opened the inner door and stepped out into the small area sandwiched between it and the front door as a group. After making sure that the inner door was shut tight behind us, Mr. Kobayashi opened the door leading outside. I raised my arms to shield my face from the razor-sharp wind and torrent of snowflakes that instantly assailed us.
"Outside, quickly! I'm locking the door!" Mr. Kobayashi yelled, and Toshio and I reluctantly headed through the door.
On the other side was a wooden porch that stood roughly a metre high. Despite the shelter of the roof, the ground beneath our feet was nonetheless covered with snow. My everyday shoes struggled to maintain their grip.
To my surprise, I realised that Mr. Kobayashi―who, taking point, should have been the first down the porch steps―was nowhere to be seen.
"Mr. Kobayashi? Where are you?" I called, but I doubted he would have heard me over the howling tempest. I tried again. "Mr. Kobayashi! Where are you!?"
"...Over here..." came a voice to my left.
Taking care with my footing, I followed Toshio down the steps. Suddenly, the wind changed direction, knocking me flying. I tumbled down the remaining steps and landed head-first in the thick bed of snow.
"You okay?" Toshio asked, looking panicked.
In that moment, a horrible image took shape inside my head: what if Toshio was the killer...? In my mind's eye, I saw him take a bloody razor from his jacket pocket.
I crawled my way across the snow, putting distance between myself and Toshio, and got to my feet.
"Heeey! What's going on back there?"
It was Mr. Kobayashi's voice.
Toshio looked at me with a puzzled expression. Watching him out of the corner of my eye, I jogged towards the voice.
For an instant, swallowed by the raging wind and snow, I couldn't see a thing. I couldn't even tell for sure where Spur, the pension we'd only just left, was. But still, I kept on walking. I huddled inside my coat, shuddering, my teeth chattering. The warmth I'd felt in not so long ago seemed like a distant memory now.
It was cold. Painful. I felt like my ears would be torn clean off.
Suddenly, a snow-covered wall appeared before my eyes, and I just barely managed to avoid smashing into it. Mr. Kobayashi was crouching right next to the wall. Toshio came up from behind and put his hand on my shoulder, causing me to almost jump out of my skin.
"Here," said Mr. Kobayashi. "Check this out."
I could see a box near where he was crouching, affixed to the outer wall of the building. The cable running from it had been cleanly severed.
"So someone really did cut the phone line," said Toshio.
"That's not all. Take a closer look."
Toshio and I moved in closer. The area where the cable had been cut was stained with a dark reddish-brown substance. It was blood―Mr. Tanaka's blood.
All three of us were shivering, and not only because of the cold.
9
"...C-can you fix it?"
"...I've never done it before, but I think I can manage a temporary fix. I'd need to go and grab my tools, though."
Practically falling over each other in our hurry to get back inside, we returned to the pension and explained the situation to the others. I was grateful to find that Kyoko and Midori had made us hot chocolate.
Mari must have noticed how frozen I was. "Laying it on a bit thick, aren't you? You were only out there for five minutes," she said with a laugh.
"I'm not putting it on. Go out there and you'll see for yourself. If I'd spent any longer out there dressed like this, I would've frozen to death. You'd need to be fully wrapped up in skiwear and bring five or six hand warmers with you to make it in that weather."
Toshio nodded in agreement. He must've been far more used to the cold than me, considering that he worked here. For him to be as bad off as I was, this must be quite the blizzard we were stuck in.
Once he'd finished his hot chocolate, Mr. Kobayashi got to his feet, toolbox in hand. "I'll go by myself. It's cold out there. While I'm gone, I want the rest of you to stay put. Alright?"
I was fine with that. I didn't think I could stand going back out there and waiting around for him to finish repairing the line. Toshio seemed to be of the same mind. It didn't look like he had any intention of getting up.
At practically the exact same time Mr. Kobayashi left the pension, the cuckoo clock began to tweet.
Twelve o'clock.
I cast a brief glance at my wrist. 11:55. I wasn't sure why, but for some reason, I felt a strange sense of foreboding. Where was it coming from?
"I forgot all about lunch," Kyoko said to no one in particular. "What should I do?"
No one said a word, leaving it to me to reluctantly pipe up. "I think you should wait until your husband gets back. Besides... I don't think anyone has much of an appetite right now, anyway."
From her lack of objection, I guessed that Kyoko agreed.
The seconds ticked by so agonisingly slowly that I could've sworn someone had cast a spell on us to slow the passage of time. Kyoko paced anxiously back and forth between the lounge and foyer. I peered out of the window from time to time, but the area Mr. Kobayashi was working on must have been out of my line of sight, because I couldn't spot him.
A grim silence had fallen over us, dominating the atmosphere. Even with the prospect of getting the phone working, we all knew that it wouldn't solve the issue at hand. Mr. Kayama had been right: even if we did manage to get word to the police, I couldn't imagine them making it to us any time soon.
Five minutes passed, then ten.
...What if Mr. Kobayashi was the killer?
I was aghast. If it was him, maybe he'd taken his chances and tried making his getaway in the car―only after making sure that none of the others would work, of course...
No, I thought, changing my mind. There's no way. For starters, he was the one who'd discovered that the phone line had been cut. And it was always him taking the initiative and searching the place, too.
...But wouldn't that also have given him the opportunity to hide any evidence that might cast suspicion on him?
The sound of the wind blowing in through the door alerted us to Mr. Kobayashi's return.
"Honey! Are you okay?" his wife called to him, running over.
He was white as a sheet from head to toe and shivering, a layer of snow having settled atop his head and shoulders. I felt bad for ever having suspected him for a second.
"Yeah. I think I managed to get it working, just about. Try calling someone."
Mrs. Kobayashi nodded and picked up the receiver of the phone on the front desk.
"I think it's working. It's making a noise!"
"Call the police."
Eventually, the call seemed to go through. Mrs. Kobayashi began to explain what was going on, so flustered that she stumbled and tripped over her words.
"Give it here."
Taking the receiver from his wife, Mr. Kobayashi briskly and confidently informed the person on the other end of the line that someone had been killed, gave them the address and phone number for the pension, and his own name.
"Are they coming right now?" asked Midori.
"No. Doesn't sound like they'll be able to get here right away. They said they'll come as soon as this blizzard blows over, though."
Someone's stomach rumbled. I guessed that the relief we all felt must have reawakened our appetites. Being cut off from the outside world as we were, merely having a usable phone was a real reassurance, apparently.
It felt as though a trickle of fresh oxygen had seeped into the stale air that filled the room. Partially formed thoughts that had been floating fuzzily around inside my head gradually began to take shape. I got to my feet and spoke.
"Would... Would you all listen to me for a minute?"
Everyone fixed their eyes on me. At a loss, I looked at Mari, sitting beside me. She stared back with confusion written across her features.
"What's wrong? Where's this coming from?"
"It's important. Really important. Mr. Kobayashi... There are a few things I want to check with you."
I turned to face the man, who'd been standing in the same spot this whole time.
"What things?"
"The TVs and VCRs... Which rooms have them?"
Mr. Kobayashi seemed taken aback by my unexpected line of questioning, but didn't hesitate to answer. "Our room and Midori's room have them. In terms of the guest rooms, there's Ms. Watase and her friends' room, your room... And the late Mr. Tanaka's room."
"And those are the only ones, right? There aren't TVs or VCRs in any of the other rooms?"
"Nope."
"Are all of the VCRs the same model?"
"Yeah. We bought them in bulk. But... why are you so interested in the VCRs?"
Instead of answering his question, I continued with my train of thought. "Did anyone with a VCR let someone else into their room last night?"
Everyone shook their heads.
"Thanks. Let me ask about clocks next. My room doesn't have one. The other rooms don't either, do they?"
"...No. To be honest, I wouldn't allow a single clock in this place if I had my way. Since that's not an option, we have that cuckoo clock over there. I believe that recreational time should be a time to let go of your cares and stress, so--"
"Alright. Let me just double check. That cuckoo clock is the only clock in the entire pension, correct?"
"Correct."
"Could I borrow your phone for a minute? It won't take long."
"Well, I don't mind, but... Who are you calling?"
Ignoring the question, I walked over to the phone and began pressing buttons.
1. 1. 7.
The tape recorded voice of a woman announced the time. At the fourth stroke, the time will be... twelve... fourteen... PM and... ten... seconds...
Beep, beep, beep, boop.
The time matched that on my watch exactly. In the blink of an eye, all of the pieces of the puzzle finally fell into place. I was fairly sure I knew who the killer was―the person who had sliced Mr. Tanaka's throat open and cut the phone line using the very same weapon. All that was left was to confirm my suspicions.
After a momentary silence, I addressed the others. "I'd like to take a look at everyone's watches, if I may. Wristwatch, pocket watch, it doesn't matter. I only need to see any sort of timepiece you have on you right now."
Everyone exchanged puzzled looks, but none of them refused my request.
"What's all this about?" Mari asked in a whisper. I looked over at her with calming eyes.
Surprisingly enough, none of the three OLs had watches with them.
"There's a clock in the car, but..."
"That's fine," I said.
Mari had one, of course, but said she'd left it in the pocket of her skiwear.
"Loads of girls hate wearing watches," she said.
Neither Mr. Kobayashi, Midori or Mrs. Kayama were wearing watches, either. Ultimately, only Mr. Kayama, Toshio and I had them on.
"What time is it right now according to your watch, Toshio?" I asked. "As precisely as you can, please."
Glancing down at his watch, Toshio replied, "Twenty past twelve... and thirty seconds, as of right now."
"What about yours, Mr. Kayama?"
"That's weird... Mine says it's four past twelve on the dot." He tilted his head in confusion. "Is this bloody fing on the blink again?"
I shook my head ambiguously. "That is strange. It's a quarter past twelve. I know that's the right time, because I just called the speaking clock."
Toshio, wearing an uneasy expression, looked up at the cuckoo clock on the wall. "...Are... you sure...? But, if that's true, then... what does that...?"
"I know who did it. Who killed the man calling himself Tanaka."
10
No one said a word. No one laughed, either.
It was Mari who spoke first. "Well?"
I could see concern in her eyes. Was she worried that I was going to point the finger at the wrong person? Or was she scared that I was going to accuse her? Not in a million years. Collecting myself, I posed a new question.
"Toshio. Do you remember the last time you set your watch?"
"The last time...? Not really, no. It's a quartz watch, so it pretty much never goes wrong."
"Who set the cuckoo clock, then?"
"...Me, I think. Before the skiing season began, I changed the batteries and set the time."
"To the same time as your watch?"
"Yeah... So you're saying my watch was already off by that point?"
"I believe so. Even quartz isn't immune to extreme fluctuations in temperature." I paused, turning to face Mr. Kayama. "Now then, Mr. Kayama. Your watch looks pretty expensive. I assume it's reliable."
"Very. It does stop sometimes, though, if I forget to wind it."
"Is it working okay right now?"
"Like a charm."
"When was the last time you set it?"
Mr. Kayama chewed his lip thoughtfully. Finally, a look of sudden realisation came over his face.
"Looks like you've remembered," I said. He began to fidget, his eyes darting about restlessly. The others glanced back and forth between the two of us, baffled. "Alright. If we go over everything we've learned so far, it goes a bit like this. Spur's clock was set by Toshio; therefore, it was running five minutes fast. Of course, Toshio's watch was five minutes ahead, too."
No one interrupted. I continued.
"But clocks aren't the only way to get the time. You could see it on TV, hear it on the radio, call the speaking clock... or see it on a VCR. The lack of any other clocks in the pension besides the cuckoo clock makes the time displays on the VCRs here really conspicuous. Isn't that right... Mr. Kayama?"
He didn't respond.
"Before I went to sleep last night, and when I woke up this morning, I noticed that the time display on the VCR in my room was blinking, but I didn't know what it meant."
One of the group let out an exclamation of surprise. It was Toshio. He must have been familiar with how the VCRs worked.
"Toshio―would you mind explaining to me why it was blinking?"
He nodded, then obliged. "The VCRs here all have a feature that causes the numbers on the displays to blink whenever the power goes out to warn you. The blackout last night... it threw off the time on all of the VCRs."
"But our VCR at home resets to midnight when there's a blackout," Mari interjected.
Toshio shrugged. "It must be an older model. The timer on most of the newer ones keeps working for a little while even when the power goes out. Unfortunately, while ours are newer than yours, they're still a bit dated: the timers stop during a blackout, then start again when the power comes back on."
I spoke up once more. "Is it making sense yet? This means that ever since the blackout last night, the time on the VCRs has been off by eleven minutes, and sixteen minutes behind the cuckoo clock. If they were initially set to the same time as the clock, that would mean that the blackout lasted for sixteen minutes."
"That can't be right," said Mr. Kobayashi. "I set the time on the VCRs according to the speaking clock..."
"Oh, okay. In that case, the blackout must've lasted for eleven minutes. But that's not what's important here. What really matters is that, at the time when the crime seems to have been committed, there were three different times visible in the pension."
"Three different times...?" asked Mari.
"Yeah. First, there's the one on the cuckoo clock, which was set by Toshio's watch. Then, there's the time on the VCRs, which is off. The third and final time is the one shown on my watch... the one we just determined to be accurate.
"A few moments ago, I checked the times on Mr. Kayama and Toshio's watches. Naturally, Toshio's matched the time on the cuckoo clock. That's to be expected, since he was the one who set it. What could Mr. Kayama's watch possibly have read, then?"
My question fell on deaf ears. The others simply studied the man intently as beads of cold sweat began to form on his forehead.
"The time on Mr. Kayama's watch was different from both mine and Toshio's: eleven and sixteen minutes slower than ours, respectively. Now... Doesn't that remind you of something?"
"The VCRs, right?" said Mari. I nodded enthusiastically.
"Bingo. Curiously enough, the time on his watch matches up with the time on the VCRs, which was thrown off by the blackout."
"It's a coincidence! Don't mean nuffin' weird's goin' on or nuffin'!" Mr. Kayama retorted.
"That would be true, if the time was correct―but it's not. Strange, don't you think?"
"These fings 'appen!"
Left with no other choice, I decided to play the ace up my sleeve.
"You're right. I can't definitively say that such a coincidence is outside the realm of possibility―except in your case, that is, Mr. Kayama. You see, before dinner last night, I saw you set your watch by the cuckoo clock over there."
"What are you getting at?" Mari asked, puzzled.
"...What I'm saying is this. When we sat down for dinner last night, Mr. Kayama's watch was set to the same time as the clock. Afterwards, Mr. Tanaka went back to his room, which was followed by the power cut, and then finally the lights came back on. But for some strange reason, a mere day later, his watch is behind by a whole sixteen minutes, just like the VCRs.
"All of this can only mean one thing: at some point after the blackout, he must've gone into one of the rooms containing a VCR and set his watch to the same time. Now, let me ask you all the same question again. Is there anyone here who's staying in a room with a VCR who's invited Mr. Kayama inside? There isn't, is there? In case anyone's wondering, I certainly don't remember ever inviting him into my room. Which means..."
I paused and took a deep breath before continuing.
"...Last night, following the power cut, Mr. Kayama paid a visit to Mr. Tanaka's room. Whether it was before or after the murder, I can't say, but while he was there, he caught sight of the display on the VCR. Digital displays seem so trustworthy, don't they? And so, believing that the VCR was showing the correct time, he adjusted his watch to match."
"Darling!" Mrs. Kayama cried sorrowfully, gripping her husband's shoulder. "Is what he's saying true!?"
Mr. Kayama averted his gaze. His reaction seemed to persuade her that I was right.
"Why...? Why would he do such a thing...?"
Mrs. Kayama looked back and forth between us.
"I can't even begin to imagine what his motive might've been. You'd have to hear it straight from the horse's mouth. What I will say is that I don't believe he set out with the intention of killing Mr. Tanaka. I guessed as much from the fact that after the crime, he panicked and used the murder weapon to cut the phone line. If the crime was premeditated, I imagine he would've cut the line beforehand."
From the look on Mr. Kayama's face, I could tell I had hit the bullseye.
"It probably started off as a calm discussion, at first. That must be when he set his watch. Then, they got into an argument or had some kind of disagreement, and he killed Mr. Tanaka. If the murder wasn't planned, then the weapon must've been something belonging to Mr. Tanaka. The only blade I can think of that someone might take with them on a trip is a razor. Did Mr. Tanaka have the sort of razor a barber might use on him, by any chance?"
11
A few beats later, Mr. Kayama―who had been staring silently at the floor this entire time―began to speak in a strained voice, as if uttering each and every word took every ounce of strength in his body.
"...That bloke... was a snake."
Mrs. Kayama jerked her hand away from his shoulder as if she had touched something hot, pressing it to her mouth instead.
"Darling..."
"...I'm sorry, Haruko. I 'ad no other choice. That bloke, 'e... 'E was Eiji Kuroki, a former sokaiya... Nah, a yakuza. 'Ichiro Tanaka'? What a joke."
Mr. Kayama huffed out a humourless laugh.
"When I first started up my company, I got a little 'elpin' 'and from some yakuza types wiv sortin' out labour disputes an' all that. Everyone else does it, so I felt like I 'ad to do it, too. But then I started finkin', nah, this ain't right, an' cut ties wiv 'em... Or, tried to, anyway."
Mr. Kayama grimaced.
"Then some sorta new anti-gang law got passed... I s'pose the readies weren't flowin' in like they used to no more, 'cause they started blackmailin' me wiv whatever they could scrounge up. I'd been in bed wiv 'em in the past, so it weren't like I could get the Old Bill involved."
As she listened to her husband's story, Mrs. Kayama began to weep.
"...Kuroki was the worst of the lot. 'E followed me the 'ole way out 'ere, an' told me to give 'im fifty million yen or 'e'd run me outta business. My company's only small, so that weren't the sorta dough I could come up wiv overnight. I fort maybe if we talked fings over, we might be able to work sumfin' out, but then at the end, 'e... asked me whether I wanted to keep my family safe..."
Mrs. Kayama lifted her gaze and looked over at her husband.
"That... I wanted 'em to stay in one piece, right? I just... snapped. Next fing I knew, my 'ands were wrapped round 'is neck."
Mr. Kayama looked down at his hands.
"...When I realised what I was doin', I let go sharpish, but 'is eyes were wide an' 'e was foamin' at the mouf. What else could I do? I spotted a big razor inside 'is bag, so I grabbed it an' cut 'is froat. Fort it'd look like that fing from the ghost story last night done 'im in."
Thus concluded Mr. Kayama's long confession. I regretted sticking my nose in rather than leaving it all to the police. All I'd wanted was to make it out of the dark situation we'd found ourselves in...
We must all have been pointedly avoiding looking at Mr. Kayama. That was why none of us realised what he was up to until we heard Mari scream.
12
"Nooo!"
I looked up and saw that Mr. Kayama had grabbed Mari from behind. The blade of the razor, caked with reddish-brown stains, was pressed against her pale throat, ready to slice through it at any moment.
"Mari!" I yelled.
Her mouth opened and closed repeatedly like a goldfish, as if she were trying to call my name, but the only sound that made it past her lips was her breaths coming in gasps. I tried to reach out to her.
"Don't move! Please, just stay still. I don't wanna 'urt 'er."
His request came off as more of a desperate plea than an intimidating threat―and that was exactly why I believed that if it came down to it, he was fully prepared to slice Mari's throat wide open. I had to keep him calm.
"Darling, stop this! Please! Just stop!" Mrs. Kayama begged tearfully. Mr. Kayama gave a slow shake of his head.
"Sorry for bein' so useless, Haruko..." he said as he dragged the ashen-faced Mari out of the lounge and towards the foyer.
Mr. Kobayashi tried to slowly and quietly shuffle towards him, but Mr. Kayama noticed what he was up to.
"Don't try nuffin' funny, now, Kobayashi. ...Go get one of the cars started. Don't matter whose it is. Bring it to the front door."
"I can't let you go. Don't do this."
"Shut your gob an' do it!"
Mr. Kobayashi surveyed our faces for a moment, then nodded in resignation and headed for the rear carpark. Mrs. Kayama began to sob. Whether out of fear or sympathy, Kana started crying, too. A wave of irrational anger swelled within me. Mari wasn't crying―what did she have to cry about?
He must have had some trouble getting the frozen engine started in such cold weather, because it was more than ten minutes before we heard the sound of it drawing up out front. Mari was already halfway unconscious. She looked as if she might collapse onto the razor herself if Mr. Kayama hadn't been supporting her.
"Hang in there, Mari!"
"...Toru..." she said weakly, opening her eyes a crack.
Mr. Kobayashi came back inside, covered in snow, the wind blowing in behind him.
"Alright. I've done exactly what you asked. Let go of the girl."
"Nah. Not yet. Get over there, all of ya! Now!"
We all did as we were told, gathering in the corner of the lounge.
"Nobody moves from that spot. I'll let 'er go at the bottom of the mountain. You know what'll 'appen if I get down there an' find the Old Bill lyin' in wait for us, right? If you do, you'll keep your moufs shut an' be'ave."
There was nothing any of us could do to stop him. He dragged Mari down the steps of the front porch, then climbed into the car, its engine still running. Unable to just stand there and let it happen, I bolted to the front door.
"Mari!"
No sooner had I spotted a white van―a thick layer of snow covering its roof and bonnet―kicking up snow, than it had vanished into the white darkness in the blink of an eye. I stood there for a while, staring blankly into the darkness, until finally I pulled myself together and spoke to Mr. Kobayashi.
"Let... let me borrow your car. Please."
"So you're going to chase him down, and then what? Even all of us collectively were totally helpless. Exactly how do you plan on stopping him all by yourself?"
I didn't know. I just knew I had to do something, instead of sitting around waiting.
"Let's take my car," said Toshio. "I've driven around these parts more than anyone else here."
I felt almost like I had a guardian angel looking out for me.
"...Th-thank you!"
Toshio sprinted outside to grab his car. Mr. Kobayashi looked at me.
"Please... Bring Mari home safe."
"...I will."
Mr. Kayama had a head start of five or six minutes on us, in our four-by-four Range Rover. Once my seatbelt was securely fastened, Toshio drove away. For once, the roar of the diesel engine was reassuring. A layer of powder snow was forming on the windscreen faster than the car's wipers could scrape it away.
Now and then, I caught glimpses of clusters of cedar trees alongside the road that looked like white paint on a white canvas. Even though it was broad daylight, even with our headlamps on, we could only see a few metres ahead of us. If you took your eyes off the road for even a second, you'd probably lose sight of it and go careening into the trees.
Toshio clung to the steering wheel tightly, speeding along as quickly as he could manage.
"You might want to brace yourself."
I certainly didn't need telling: the car was bouncing around so violently that I'd already been holding on for dear life.
The heater still hadn't fully fired up yet. We began to shiver, our teeth chattering. I wondered whether we might end up buried in the snow, undiscovered until spring came.
Toshio kept turning the steering wheel from left to right. I had no idea how he could even tell when bends in the road were coming up.
The rear of the car began to skid. I barely had time to register it before the vehicle was sent spinning like a top. It couldn't have been more than a moment, but it felt like an eternity to me. Finally―perhaps a hundredth of a second later―we came to a crashing halt. I was thrown against the left hand door, knocking the air from my lungs.
For a minute or two, Toshio and I coughed violently and uncontrollably.
"H-... Hey... You alive?"
"Yeah... I think so."
We exchanged slight smiles.
It seemed as though we'd crashed into a wall of snow along the edge of the road on the passenger side of the car. We both undid our seatbelts and crawled out through the driver's side door.
Yet more wind and snow awaited us outside the vehicle. We must have put about a kilometre between us and the pension. There was no way we could walk back, and we hadn't even been able to rescue Mari...
At that very moment, a low explosion rumbled throughout the air around us, making the branches of the trees quiver.
"What was that?"
We set off into the white darkness, heading in the direction the sound had come from, tripping and stumbling clumsily across the snow that crunched underfoot. As I walked, I noticed imprints of fresh tyre tracks in the nearby ground.
We followed the tracks, until suddenly the clusters of white trees gave way to a wide open space. There was no path. I almost lost my footing, but Toshio managed to grab onto me before I could fall.
"There's a sharp bend in the road."
The tyre tracks ignored the curve, heading straight towards the edge of the cliff. The guardrail had crumpled like paper. I cautiously leaned over the edge, peering down, and saw a blaze raging near the narrow mountain stream far below. The foul stench of burning rubber and gasoline assaulted the back of my nose.
"...Mari. Mari. Mariii!"
I fell to my knees in the snow, grief-stricken.
"...Mari..."
I remembered the bright smile she'd worn on the ski slope, and earlier. Her back at the pension. Calling to me. Calling my name, just like she had that morning, when...
"Toru! Toru!"
I turned around, and saw Mari tottering unsteadily towards us from out of the incessantly falling snow.
I wasn't dreaming. It was really her.
Struggling to maintain our balance in the snow, we rushed over to her.
"That car..."
There were tears running down Mari's cheeks. I'd never seen her cry before.
"Mr. Kayama, he... He let me out... Then he sped up, and..."
I wrapped my arms around her shoulders, casting a look back over my shoulder at the wrecked guardrail. Maybe he'd never intended to take Mari with him in the first place... Or maybe, at the eleventh hour, the voice of his conscience had won out.
"He... didn't have to go and die..." Toshio muttered.
I didn't want to think any more. Mari was safe and sound. That was all that mattered.
Forgetting all about the icy cold, the three of us simply stood there for a long time, watching black smoke rising from the depths of the valley.