An original story for Shin Kamaitachi no Yoru, written by Korumono Migiwa.
"Nope, it's totally shot." The driver opened the car bonnet and let out a sigh. "I'll call the repair company, but it'll take them about an hour to get here."
Oh, fantastic. Just what I needed.
A light snow had begun to fall outside the taxi. Apparently, we were due for a blizzard that night. I'd been planning this for ages―just my luck for the car's engine to stall out in weather like this.
"How far is it to Brownie from here?"
"About a kilometre, maybe?"
"I'll walk, then."
"Sorry about all this. The road runs straight the whole way there, so you shouldn't have to worry about getting lost."
I paid the fare I owed the apologetic taxi driver for how far he'd brought me, then picked up my luggage and set off. Though it didn't seem like that much of an incline, it was a snow-covered mountain road. I pressed the soles of my shoes firmly into the ground so I didn't slip. Perhaps I was using muscles I usually wouldn't, because my legs soon began to protest their fatigue after only a short distance.
The pension named Brownie was a tourist spot in Tono made famous by the legend of the zashiki warashi. I'd spent all the money I earned at my part-time job coming here, my mind fixated on writing a novel set there, only for it to end up like this. It wasn't even skiing season yet. As an aspiring young novelist making my living through part-time work, I wasn't exactly living in the lap of luxury. Surely the gods could throw me a bone or two?
The bad weather made it feel as if the sun set all the sooner, and my surroundings were already pitch black. There were hardly any street lamps along the mountain road, so I quickly found myself unable to see anything but that which was immediately in front of me. I was a cheerless man, and wasn't dressed in a manner that would attract the attention of thieves, but I couldn't help feeling a little scared in such deep darkness.
...What if I get deceived by a fox? Nah, this is Tono. What if I get deceived by a zashiki warashi? Hmm... Can't I come up with something a bit better?
As I turned over these trifling thoughts in my head, trying to distract myself from how cold and tired I was, I saw a small light ahead of me. It wasn't a street lamp―it was a window with someone in it.
My pace quickened. The cosy little building was clearly built with guests in mind, not as a private home. There was a sign out front reading Pension 'Spur'.
...Huh? The driver had said that the road led directly there... There hadn't been any other roads, had there? I looked at the sign once more, but it wasn't Brownie's.
I was a little hesitant, but the muscles in my legs were screaming, and what had at first only been a light snow had by now become a full-blown tempest of white, beginning to obscure my vision. I didn't have the time to look for another place. Maybe they'd give me a lift to Brownie...?
Cautiously, I opened the front door. There was another door inside behind the first, since this was snow country. The doorbell rang, and I was greeted by the cheerful voice of a man.
"Hello there, and welcome to Spur. Do you have a reservation?"
His warm words of welcome made me feel guilty.
"No, um... I'm looking for a pension called Brownie..."
"'Brownie'? I've never heard of a place by that name."
And with that, my final hope was shattered. But by then, I was wrapped in the sweet embrace of warm, heated air. I couldn't bring myself to venture back out into the bone-chilling wind and snow raging outside.
"...I know I've just shown up out of the blue without a reservation, but would it be okay for me to stay here?"
"Is it just you? In that case, that'd be fine," he replied with a smile. Then, I heard him murmur to himself in a small voice, "He'll be the thirteenth, though... Poor Mari. But what else can I do?"
Goodbye, Brownie. Goodbye, cancellation fee. Fortunately for me, the rates at Spur were pretty reasonable. My lunches would be pretty meagre for a while once I'd paid Brownie their cancellation fee, though.
"Kaito Sakamaki, right? Please, make yourself at home."
Once he had finished filling out the guest register, the man introduced himself. "I'm Jiro Kobayashi, the owner. That woman over there is my wife, Kyoko."
His wife came out from behind the counter and dipped her head briefly in my direction. They were polite people.
Then, I thought I heard someone coming down the stairs. I looked over, and saw a blatantly suspicious-looking man wearing a full-length coat and sunglasses appear from above, startling me.
"Ah, Mr. Tanaka. Will you be wanting your dinner now?"
The man―Tanaka―nodded.
"I'm sorry, but it's still being prepared. Would you mind waiting about half an hour longer, please? If you'd like, you can grab a coffee in the lounge over..."
Before Mr. Kobayashi could finish, Tanaka nodded and headed back upstairs. What was all that about? It was cold outside, sure, but why would he be wearing a coat indoors? And sunglasses, to boot, at night? Mr. Kobayashi seemed to feel slightly awkward at having his attempt to look after the man rebuffed.
"Um, if you'd like anything hot to drink, Mr. Sakamaki..."
"Ah, how about some tea, then?" I answered, feeling as if I couldn't refuse. I hurried upstairs to my room, dropped off my luggage and coat, and went back downstairs.
Upon closer inspection, I realised that both Midori, the part-timer who brought me my tea, and the owner's wife Kyoko had thick eyebrows. I felt almost like I'd arrived in some slightly different world. I sat there looking nervous, until another part-timer, Toshio, began chatting to me in an overly familiar manner.
"Are you at uni, Kaito? Still in high school?"
"Uh, no... I've left university already. I'm making a living through part-time work at the moment."
"What? Don't tell me you're older than me!"
He was younger than me!?
Toshio was a nice, cheerful-seeming young man who stood around six feet tall, with tanned skin and long hair tied up in a ponytail. I'd assumed he must've been around thirty or so...
"I'm in my sixth year at university."
"Oh, then we must be the same age. Still haven't found a job?"
"I'm good working here."
"I guess jobs like this requiring certain skills are doing well these days."
As we chatted aimlessly, someone came downstairs. I thought it might be Tanaka again, but this person was clearly heavier set.
"The news! What about the news?"
He had a Kansai accent. I took a closer look, and saw that he was a plump, red-faced old man who seemed to be nearing fifty. Without waiting for anyone to respond, he began fiddling with the lounge TV. I noticed that the TV's screen was round and protruding―a CRT TV. I wondered if it supported digital terrestrial broadcasts.
Apparently, the old man was Seiichi Kayama, a regular guest at the pension. His wife Haruko joined us in the lounge a few moments later. She seemed as though she must have been a good twenty years younger than Kayama. She was slim and beautiful, but something about her seemed vaguely sad, somehow.
After struggling desperately with the TV for some time, Kayama let out a sigh. "Nope, nowhere's showin' it. Any of you know today's closin' prices?"
"'Closing prices'...? You mean the stock market?"
"Yeah. It's turned into a bit of an 'abit. Can't relax until I've checked 'em."
"There's probably an app you can use to check stock prices..."
I took out my smartphone. I'd splurged and bought myself the latest model so I could write when and wherever I wanted. It was no good, though―the screen displayed the no signal icon. Damn it. I'd completely forgotten that I was out in the countryside. Maybe the signal was weak, or maybe it was interference from the blizzard.
"No good, not even a single bar. Do you have net access here?"
Everyone looked at me in bewilderment as the question left my lips.
"Access... to a net?"
"I have a net you can put your hair up with, if that's what you're asking."
Oh, come on. They didn't have to play dumb.
"By stocks, do you mean FX? Can't you connect to that via PC?"
"...Mate, I'm talkin' 'bout stocks, 'ere, not your bleep-bloopin' video games."
Even Mr. Kayama was staring at me with narrowed eyes like I was some kind of weirdo. I really didn't need the explanation...
"You look young, mate. You in 'igh school?"
The second time I'd heard that today.
"I'm a uni grad working part-time."
"Part-time work? What a waste of a degree. Why don't ya come work for me? I might not look like much, but I'm the president of a company. We operate on a merit-based system, y'see. Someone 'oo's been workin' for us for two years can make buckets more dosh than someone 'oo's been wiv us for a decade."
They were okay with mid-career hires? ...Hang on a minute. I wasn't lacking full-time employment because I couldn't get a job.
"I'm trying to become a writer, so I'm not looking for a job."
I thought he might have been making fun of me somewhat, but to my surprise, Mr. Kayama reacted favourably.
"Oho, a writer, 'ey? 'Ow excitin'! It's good for a man to dream big. Make sure to send an autograph my way when you win a prize, won't ya?"
He clapped me on the back. It hurt a bit, but I didn't mind.
"Ooh, a writer! That's so cool! You must be smart, huh?"
Kanako's eyes were sparkling. She seemed like the sort who only read mobile phone novels, though, I thought. Aki seemed like a pretty big reader, and would make for a much tougher customer. Toshio and Midori weren't interested. Keiko... looked like she was too busy eating snacks to care. Oh well.
"In that case, why not write something set at this pension?" asked Mari.
Ooh! Was she interested?
"If it's set at a pension, then I guess it would have to be a love story? Six men and women who meet on the slopes all end up falling in love with each other, or..."
"That sounds like something you'd hear in one of those ancient TV dramas."
Keiko stared at us intently.
"Really? That sort of thing's all the rage right now. Stuff like The 101st Bowl of Mayonnaise."
"Huh? What's that?"
"It's a story about a couple who're gourmet writers. They believe in a legend saying that if they finish an entire large bowl of mayo rice from the secret menu at this one place together, it'll bring them happiness, so they go to all these donburi places. It turns out that the main character actually doesn't have long left to live because he has hypertension and a fatty liver, which he's hiding from the female lead. The main character flies into a rage at a rival of his, which sends his blood pressure too high, and a week later he drops dead."
Keiko rambled on and on excitedly. In a way, it did sound pretty interesting... Maybe I should look it up online when I got home.
"Oh, right―if I'm staying the night here, I'd better call Brownie to cancel my booking. Do you have a phone?" I asked, the thought suddenly springing to mind.
Toshio pointed to the corner of the lounge. A very cutesy-looking white phone with gold borders sat there. I got up from the sofa and walked over to it... and then stood stock still.
"Huh? What's the matter?"
"Nothing..."
The phone... didn't have any buttons! Instead, there was a disc full of holes and with numbers written on it attached. It must've been a rotary telephone. I felt like I'd seen one before at my grandmother's house.
Uh oh. I had no idea how to use the phone. Cold sweat beaded on my back. I picked up the receiver, and heard the same sound I'd expect to hear coming from a normal phone. I tried poking my finger through one of the holes in the dial and pushing, but was met by no resistance. Flustered, I put the receiver back down.
"I guess I won't after all."
"Just calling to cancel wouldn't take long, would it?"
"Uh, it's just, I must've lost the note with their number on."
"Oh, okay. I've never heard of this Brownie before, so I guess it wouldn't be in the phone book, either... Where did you even find out about them and make your reservation?"
"Online..."
"Through computer-based communication, you mean? Can't stand that rot. Just kids messin' about," interjected Mr. Kayama.
'Computer-based communication'? Like old BBS forums and stuff? Was that what old people thought the internet was? But how could anybody run a company in the modern world if they didn't even know about the internet?
"I fink someone's been pullin' your leg, mate. Good fing you're stayin' 'ere."
I wasn't sure how to respond, but Mari was smiling.
"Yeah. The food is this place's real selling point. My uncle's an amazing cook."
Hearing that made me feel like I was glad to be there instead. I mean, there are so many girls here... I thought, a lewd look on my face. Then, I heard the sound of an engine. A car must have parked outside. The front door immediately opened, and a large man stepped inside. He was bearded, and looked a lot like a hiker.
"Ugh, that was awful. My windscreen wipers weren't helping at all, my car got stuck..." the man said loudly as he filled in the guest register. Apparently, his name was Mikimoto.
"Why not go and get something hot to drink in there, Mr. Mikimoto?"
"Oh, thanks. I'll have some tea, then, please."
Mr. Mikimoto dropped off his luggage in his room upstairs, then joined us in the lounge. Now, there were a total of eight guests present. We were packed in like sardines on the sofa. Mikimoto began to introduce himself, even though no one had asked.
"I'm Yosuke Mikimoto, a freelance photographer. If anyone here wants me to shoot some nudes, don't hesitate to let me know."
He seemed a pretty enthusiastic and spirited man. Uh, actually, wasn't that just sexual harassment? I thought so, at least, but Mari was the only one frowning―the other girls seemed fairly pleased.
"Why don't you get him to take some photos of you, Kanako?"
"Noo!"
They sounded casual, jabbing each other with their elbows. Was that how it was? I, as a guy, was kind of put off by it. I had to change the topic.
"Is everybody here now?"
From what I'd seen in the upstairs hallway, there weren't many guest rooms.
"Yeah," answered Midori. "Ichiro Tanaka is the only one missing."
Tanaka? That guy in the weird coat?
"Not everybody," Mari suddenly murmured softly. She sounded sad, somehow. "Toru's not here."
"'Toru'?"
Everyone fell into an abrupt silence, staring at the floor. The air in the room felt kind of uneasy, but I couldn't just leave it alone and not know.
"...Who's Toru?" I asked.
"Toru Yajima was Mari's... boyfriend," Midori replied, like she was struggling to get the words out.
"'Was' her boyfriend...? Did something happen to him?"
"It's because there are thirteen people here right now," Toshio suddenly said in a low voice. "There can only be thirteen people at Spur at any one time..."
"...Because of the number of rooms?"
"No. There can only be thirteen people here."
I didn't get what he was saying. Then, I noticed what everyone was looking at―every person in the room had their eyes on me. Even the Kobayashis, who were supposed to have been in the kitchen preparing dinner. Their eyes were weirdly dark black, and looking at them made me feel uneasy.
"Shall we make him the 'first' this time...?"
"Yeah... If we start whittling our numbers down quickly, Toru might come back..."
They were whispering amongst themselves.
"U-um...?"
Unsettled, I began to get to my feet. Then, I spotted something glinting in Midori's hand. In a flash I turned away from her, and the item plunged into the sofa cushion. It was a fruit knife.
"Huh!?"
I had no time to be in shock. Mari thrust something towards me. It grazed my arm, a hot pain shooting through it. She had a ski pole.
No, hold on a second. Fruit knife aside, ski poles weren't small. How could she have been hiding something like that on her person? All sense of reason told me so―but when I saw what Toshio held in his hand, all of my thoughts vanished in an instant. The dark black thing... was an automatic pistol. Assuming it wasn't a toy...
I didn't try finding out whether or not the gun was real. Instead, I rammed into Kyoko as she tried to sneak up behind me, sending her flying, and made a run for the front door. I heard a sound like a firecracker being set off behind me, accompanied by people bellowing: "Wait!" "You're not getting away!"
Despite having left my luggage and my coat back in my room, I sprinted outside without a moment's hesitation. Piercing cold and snow blew into my face. I had to get away. I just had to get away. Fixated on that thought, I ran desperately through the cold and the darkness. Maybe they'd only been messing around, and this whole thing was nothing more than a plot to scare me? No. Too naive. I discarded the thought. After all, my arm still hurt where I'd been stabbed with the ski pole. I could feel the oozing blood freezing and sticking to my skin.
I thought to myself that if I kept running down that snow-covered road, I'd eventually end up freezing to death. Then, I caught sight of lights coming from a car. It was the hazard lights of a taxi, and the headlights of a tow truck―the same taxi from earlier whose engine had stalled. I was saved! The driver and a man wearing the overalls of a maintenance worker looked over at me, seeming surprised.
"Where'd all that blood come from?"
I came to a stop in front of them. It took a little while for me to catch my breath.
"...At... Spur... The pension... Spur... They..." was all I could manage to get out.
The taxi driver and tow truck driver exchanged looks. Finally, the taxi driver spoke.
"...People sometimes get lost and find themselves there."
What?
"It's true that long ago, there used to be a pension called Spur around these parts. There was a huge incident where a total of twelve people, employees and guests both, were killed there. They still haven't found the person who did it. Ever since then, it's said that people who pass through this area get lost and come upon Spur."
His story sent a fresh chill running down my spine. Twelve people? At the place I went to were the owner and his wife, the two part-timers, Mari the niece, the three girls, the Kayamas, Mr. Mikimoto, and Mr. Tanaka. Including Toru would make for thirteen. That would mean that someone must've survived...
"It's Toru! Toru Yajima must've done it!" I yelled, but the taxi driver shook his head.
"Toru Yajima was one of the victims. He's dead."
Huh? He couldn't be...
"Anyway, you should get yourself to a hospital and have that arm looked at."
The man patted me on the shoulder as I stood there blankly, stunned.
The following day, it was reported on the news that there had been a massacre at Brownie, the pension I was supposed to have gone to, too. Nine people were dead, they said. The faces of one of the victims was familiar to me: Kyoka Tachibana, a girl who was in the same year as me at university.
I had been saved by the gods.