1. Clearing the Gathering of Evil Spirits
Suddenly, his
vision darkened.
The slender
young man walking from the front gate to the entrance door stopped in his
tracks.
Before him, the
entire house appeared to be shrouded in a black mist. The building ahead was a
one-story wooden house with a black tiled roof, black wooden siding completely
black in color.
This young man,
who had come as the new caretaker of this house starting today Minato
Kusunoki blinked in disbelief. He wiped his eye with the back of his hand
holding a piece of paper, then looked again.
And sure
enough, a black haze was covering the house’s surroundings.
Even though it
was close to noon, perhaps due to the overcast sky providing insufficient
light, the haze persisted. Just a moment ago, there had been no problem at all.
Looking to his
right, beyond the tall wall surrounding the house, the mountain was just
beyond, and even there, a shadow was cast.
He had just
thought that the green trees, which were particularly vibrant with leaves in
late spring, were the source of the light.
“Could it be…
my eyesight has worsened…?”
He lowered his
gaze to the map on the paper in his hand, which marked the location of the new
house and had the words “Here is the new house!” written on it. It was
something he had drawn himself. Although he could see it, he felt that the ink
color seemed strangely faint.
Frowning
slightly and tilting his head with a perplexed expression, Minato furrowed his
brows.
Kusunoki
Minato, 24 years old.
He was hired as
the caretaker of a vacant house built in a remote mountainous area. He had just
arrived.
He had never
even met the owner, who was a distant relative who had built the house.
That relative
had passed away, and now another relative was the owner. However, they had no
intention of living there, and after showing the house to potential buyers, all
had declined. The house had been vacant for two years.
It was a
somewhat cursed property.
The house was
built by a single, unmarried relative who was a former CEO of a construction
company. It was constructed with meticulous care, with carefully selected
building materials and nails, with a particular focus on quality.
However, less
than a month after its completion, the relative died suddenly. He had been
looking forward to spending his old age here, and he seemed to have enjoyed the
house greatly.
Leaving it to
decay would be too cruel, and so the responsibility for its management was
handed over to Minato.
He was the
second son in the family business of a hot spring inn, unmarried, without a
wife or lover.
It wasn’t that
he was happy to be rid of the house; he thought it was a good chance to leave
his parents and older brother for once.
His friendly
relations with his parents and brother remained unchanged.
The wind,
strong this spring, blew his hair and the paper pieces around him. The weight
of his bulky Boston bag pressed on his shoulder.
He couldn’t
just stand there forever.
“Well, for now,
I’ll try going inside,” he decided.
He took out the
key, inserted it into the lock, and turned. It opened smoothly. As he held the
paper in one hand and grasped the doorknob, he suddenly jolted back as if
struck by static electricity.
“What? Static
shock?” he wondered, frowning and waving his hand to dispel the tingling
sensation.
Unbeknownst to
him, the black miasma—an ominous spiritual fog—that had enveloped the entire
house as he grasped the doorknob suddenly dispersed.
The horde of
evil spirits that had been writhing in the sky was suddenly banished.
The house,
which had looked dull just moments before, now stood with a clear and dignified
presence against the vibrant greenery.
Minato, who had
only been watching his own hand, was unaware of this.
He picked up
the dropped piece of paper, hesitating slightly, and touched the doorknob
again.
This time,
nothing happened, and he was relieved. He pushed the door open.
Inside, a faint
smell peculiar to houses lingered. However, the smell of fresh wood like a new
house was still stronger.
He turned on
the circuit breaker and looked around the interior.
The layout was
a spacious, elongated 1LDK. The exterior looked like a traditional Japanese
house, but the interior was all wooden flooring and Western-style.
It was fully
electric, barrier-free. The appliances and furniture were well-organized and
ready for immediate use.
He murmured as
he saw the refrigerator in the kitchen, which was quite large for a single
person.
“All of this is
almost brand new,” he said quietly.
He stored his
brought food in the cold refrigerator, which was starting to emit a faint
chill. Everything electrical in the house was practically brand new.
“Thank you for
letting me use it,” he said, placing his hands together as if in gratitude.
He looked back
and turned his head, noticing that the overall dust layer was visible, and the
air seemed stagnant. It had likely not been cleaned in a long time.
He took out his
memo pad from his coat pocket.
First, he
thought, “Start cleaning the rooms. Next, check the appliances”
He habitually
took notes, always carrying a memo pad and pen.
After finishing
writing, he placed the memo pad on the kitchen counter, then stood in front of
the large window facing south in the dining area.
“All right,
let’s do it,” he said, pulling back the thick curtains.
The wide yard
outside the window came into view.
He opened the
sliding door to the garden.
It was designed
so that you could enjoy the Japanese garden view from anywhere in the house,
with a broad engawa (veranda).
The roof
extended over the garden, blocking the sunlight, making it very comfortable.
The previous
owner had been very particular about the garden.
He had designed
the house so that you could enjoy viewing the Japanese garden from any angle.
However, now,
it was hardly recognizable as a garden.
Just a barren,
overgrown open space.
Scattered with
weeds and thin, poorly planted trees, surrounded by variously sized rocks, with
a hollow in the shape of a gourd.
In the center
was a stone drum bridge and a stone lantern near the engawa, which stood out.
Scattered
across the yard were fallen leaves and branches, likely souvenirs from the
surrounding mountain trees that had grown over the high wall.
It looked quite
melancholy.
He sighed
involuntarily.
A beautiful new
house paired with a sad, neglected garden such was his impression. Having grown
up in a family where the gardens of the hot spring inn were well-maintained by
professional gardeners, he felt the disparity keenly.
For now, he
decided to leave the garden for later and focus on the house interior.
“Time to
clean,” he muttered, heading back inside as the wind pushed him forward.
◇
He spent two
full days cleaning.
The inside of
the house, with its high airtightness, was not too problematic, but most of the
outside perimeter was infested with insects.
He swiftly
shooed them away and wiped the windows.
After
thoroughly polishing both the interior and exterior, the house regained its
new-like shine.
Early morning.
Stretching his arms toward the ceiling, he moved from the bedroom to the
kitchen.
“Ugh… so tired.
By the way, what was that black mist around the house earlier? I can’t see it
now… was it just my imagination…?” he wondered.
He noticed a
sticky note on the refrigerator had fallen onto the floor.
He usually
wrote the contents inside, but upon picking it up, he saw that the writing had
become faint, and parts of it were smudged.
“Is it time to
buy a new pen?” he muttered.
He stuck the
note back on the refrigerator door.
While sipping
water from a bottled drink he took out, he glanced back casually and looked at
the newly emerged bedroom.
The sticky note
that had been on the bedroom door was also on the floor.
He gulped
audibly.
In his family
home, every door had a small board hanging on it for notes about plans for the
next day, shopping lists, messages to family members. It was always in plain
sight when opening and closing doors, helping prevent forgetfulness.
He pressed his
finger against the adhesive part of the fallen note and peeled it off.
“…The glue is a
bit weak… maybe I should buy new sticky notes,” he thought.
The notes he
had stuck elsewhere on the front door, for example had also come loose.
The house
lacked hallways, with the living room opening directly to the entrance, so the
notes had fallen near the entrance.
He took them,
checked the back, and saw the writing had completely faded.
“Guess that’s
it for now,” he said.
He felt uneasy
without the notes, so he wrote “Shopping list, sticky notes, pen” on a new one,
stuck it on the front door, and pressed it firmly several times.
In his family
home, he was used to writing things on the boards on each door, like “Check the
windows, gas main shutoff,” but here, the feeling of missing that was already
nostalgic.
He wistfully
touched the remaining adhesive on the fallen notes, recalling the missing text.
“Oh, right, the
gardener’s coming today,” he remembered.
There was no
time to waste. Turning his back to the front door, he headed outside.
The weather was
clear and sunny, a cloudless blue sky stretched overhead.
He opened all
the windows wide to air out the house before guests arrived. Opening the window
facing the garden, a gust of wind swept through the interior.
A bucket that
was placed on the floor was knocked over loudly, spilling a large amount of
copy paper that fluttered out the window into the yard.
Paper fragments
filled his field of view.
“Whoa!” he
exclaimed, instinctively shielding his eyes with one arm.
A bundle of
white paper fluttered past him, slipping through the air, swirling and
scattering in all directions.
In an instant,
the faint mist over the garden vanished.
Thanks to the
flurry of paper, the previously gloomy garden was suddenly filled with gentle
light.
But Minato, who
was watching this transformation, did not see it.
Feeling the
movement of the paper swirling and the bucket spinning to a stop, he finally
lowered his arm.
What he saw was
the barren garden, now scattered with white paper fragments.
“Oh… I’d better
pick these up… so annoying,” he muttered, lamenting the mess.
He descended
from the polished engawa and began gathering the scattered paper pieces one by
one.
Most of the
words written on the copy paper had disappeared, leaving only faint traces.
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