Kaguya Princess (1)
“First time I've scarfed down three ekiben in a day! Koyoming-senpai, Utsuromura is the real deal.”
Arisu said it with her usual cheeky grin, having demolished her bulgogi bento in record time. Arisu is my junior at Occult Kirara magazine. The name's ridiculous on its own, but it pisses me off even more because it suits her delicate features and fair skin perfectly.
Stuck with this one again, huh.
Last special issue, she spotted a flattened fermented snake on the road and lost her mind claiming it was a tsuchinoko. I was sweating bullets the whole time, terrified she'd botch the whole investigation.
I scowled and shot back. “It's not Koyoming. It's Mikanangi-senpai. How many times do I have to tell you? And you ate an extra one yourself.”
Senior-junior dynamics need to be clear. I laid into her sternly, but it was pointless.
“Ehh, Koyoming's cute, though. Hope we spot some apparitions in Utsuromura.”
If I had to describe Arisu, she's a weirdo. No, weirdo's too kind—she's an idiot. A genius who graduated from the University of Tokyo's science faculty, but she's so obsessed with the occult that she applied to a third-rate rag like Occult Kirara. Ghosts, aliens, UMAs—she's dying to see the supernatural, even though she's never witnessed it (not that my own brushes with it were pleasant; she's relentless anyway). Ever since she found out I have a knack for it, she clings to me calling me “senpai” nonstop. It's a hassle having her dig into my past every time, and I want to shake her off.
“Arisu. Just to be sure—never tell anyone our magazine's an occult one, got it?”
People freak out when they hear you're an occult journalist. Makes sense—if a place gets labeled a haunted hotspot, property values tank and creepy otaku start swarming. Who'd welcome that? Especially when we're poking into Utsuromura's bizarre phenomena purely for the thrill. We need to be extra cautious.
So we were posing as reporters from our sister publication's culture section.
“I've got that much sense. We're here covering the Utsuromura Village summer festival as culture reporters. The name was...”
“Na Wo. If you're a reporter, develop a habit of taking notes. How many times do I have to say it?”
“Hehe, sorry~.”
How the hell did someone that airheaded get into UTokyo?
That's when some guy barged up and plopped down right next to me.
“Hey! Koyoming!”
Sunglasses, floral shirt—a total sleazy type. Classic DQN. Never seen him before in my life.
“Who the hell are you?”
I snapped at him, and he took off his shades, winking.
“Fumimoto Yutaro. Looks like we're headed to the same spot—mind if I join?”
He knew our destination. He'd been eavesdropping on me and Arisu. Disgusting.
“Eavesdropping like a creep, and now you wanna stay? Scram.”
“Who's the creep? Occult reporters pretending to be culture ones. Koyoming~ Should I spill the beans to the locals?”
“You threatening me?”
Arisu, who'd been listening to our spat, finally chimed in.
“Senpai, let him join. Doesn't look like anyone's else on this Kisaragi Line train anyway.”
Getting to Utsuromura Village is a pain. You switch trains five or six times, end up at the unmanned Kisaragi Station on some irregular rural line, then take a bus for nearly two hours.
“Arisu!”
“Come sit by me instead, Buntaro-san. Koyoming-senpai doesn't like you.”
Arisu slapped him with some weird nickname, and Yutaro shot to his feet.
“Buntaro? You gonna call me a dumbass name like that?”
“Dumbass gets the dumbass name, right?”
I flinched as he raised his fist, but Arisu stood her ground.
“You little...”
“If you're scared wandering a strange village alone as an outsider, just tag along quietly. Buntaro-san.”
He glared daggers at her for a while before slumping into the seat beside her.
“So why're you headed to Utsuromura?”
“Good question, Koyoming. Getting interested in me?”
He grumbled but grinned slyly when I pressed him. What a pain.
“I'm not Koyoming—I'm Mikanangi Koyomi. Spit it out.”
“Business.”
Business? The word sounded wrong coming from a thug like him.
“I work at a travel agency. Heard there's a hidden hot spring in Utsuromura with miraculous effects.”
Hidden hot springs—natural onsens deep in the mountains, passed around by word of mouth among enthusiasts.
“A secret onsen even Heian nobles sought out! That'll hook 'em. I'm gonna sweet-talk the village into exclusive rights. Can't go back to Tokyo empty-handed.”
His eyes sparkled like stars. Traffic's a nightmare—good luck with that—but he'll figure it out.
One thing he said stuck, though. Empty-handed. Empty... void...
Utsuromura. Utsuro—void, hollow. Mura—village. Village of the Void.
The kanji differ, but no doubt. Not some rabbit pun.
Why name a village “Village of the Void”?
Ugh.
Drip. Drip.
Blood was pouring from my nose before I knew it. Worse than last time.
“Hey, Koyoming, you okay? Here, handkerchief.”
“Senpai, nosebleed! You sensed something again, right?”
“No. Just tired.”
I stared out the train window. The sky hung heavy, rain imminent. Far off, the rusted sign for unmanned Kisaragi Station came into view.
1) Ekiben: Bentos sold at Japanese train stations.
2) Tsuchinoko: Japanese snake yokai said to have a thick body like a beer bottle.
3) Apparitions: Anomalous phenomena that defy scientific explanation.
4) UMA: Unidentified Mysterious Animal. Unknown lifeform.
5) DQN: Slang for a delinquent or lowlife.
6) Heian Period: Japan's medieval era (794–1185) with Kyoto as capital. Peak of folk magic.
“Yuuki-kun, why the bamboo grove?”
“Need a lot. Gonna cut some.”
I answered Reika-san's question straight. In rural Japan, bamboo's uses are endless.
Top priority: Shioshodoshi, the omega of Japanese gardens. I'm reviving that clacking beauty.
Scoop cold noodles floating in water with chopsticks—Japan's summer staple, nagashi somen. I can make a launcher for that too.
Wanna come over and have some nagashi somen?
Zukyun♡
That's the plan.
“Gonna gather it yourself? If you need bamboo materials, shall I get some from the Hoozure estate?”
Grateful for Reika's kindness, but I can't keep relying on her family. Plus, nothing beats the homemade touch.
“Nah, it's fine. Gonna dig bamboo shoots too. Know any groves?”
Bamboo shoots are early-to-mid summer treats—not too late yet. Fresh ones are a rural delicacy.
“There's a bamboo grove in the village. B-but!”
Ttek! Reika raised her index finger.
“The bamboo grove is a maze where every path looks the same. You might get lost, Yuuki-kun?”
Lost at my age? Mortifying just to think about.
Reika-san's concern was valid, but I had a clear fix.
“Don't worry, Reika-san. I'll stick to the entrance.”
Farm near the visible entry—no need to venture deep.
“Really, Yuuki-kun? Can I trust you?”
“Yup. Oh, and I'll snap some photos too.”
I pointed to the camera around my neck. Yuuki-kun brought it from Tokyo—an old-school film camera, pretty cool. Inherited from someone?
“Understood, Yuuki-kun.”
“Got anything to cut with? No blades at home. Struggled to even slice a watermelon.”
If my samurai blood hadn't awakened, I'd have watched that melon warm up helplessly.
“Gu, gu-eh.”
Buntaro, the Hoozure servant, spoke up from behind me. He offered a huge hand, presenting an item.
Acquired!
Razor-sharp edge—slices bamboo (or spines) in one swing.
He's sweating buckets in just a fundoshi, but perfect timing. That blade looks fierce enough for bamboo—and human vertebrae.
“Yuuki-kun, wait...”
“Buntaro-san's so prepared. Thanks!”
“Gu, gu, eh!?”
He wriggled bashfully at the thanks. Big guy, but pure-hearted like a country bumpkin.
“...That's weird... ■■...should've been fine.”
Reika muttered, tilting her head.
“What was that, Reika-san?”
“Nothing~. Buntaro treasures that axe—just make sure to return it?”
“Of course.”
With Reika-san's guidance, we reached the bamboo grove entrance.
“Don't enter the mist. Don't look up when the bell tolls. Got it?”
She stressed the village ordinances one last time and left.
This is the bamboo grove!
Ooh, packed with green stalks. Pre-monsoon, so plenty of shoots and mid-height bamboo!
No need to go deep despite Reika-san's worries. Quick job.
This ain't just gathering materials.
In a game, it'd be crafting menu click-clack.
Lucky I'm handy—whip up anything in a snap. Garden waterway's done, so simple shioshodoshi is a breeze.
I was smirking contentedly when I spotted something odd at the grove's edge and approached.
...Jizo Bodhisattva, right?
The stone statue's head was severed clean off.