Chapter 15: The Rumor that Brought them Here.
The village elder's house was fuller than I had ever seen it.
The small room was packed with villagers, men and women of all ages, their faces drawn with worry, their voices low. They sat on the floor, crowded against the walls, some standing in the doorway. The air was thick with tension.
I found a spot near the back, close to the door. I wanted to see everyone. I wanted to see their faces when the elder spoke.
The elder sat at the front of the room, his hands folded on his knees. His face was calm, patient, the face of a man who had done this many times before.
He waited until the room had settled.
Then he spoke.
"I have called this meeting to address the arrival of the three visitors," he said. "You have all seen them. You have all heard their questions."
A murmur rippled through the crowd. The elder raised his hand, and the murmur faded.
"They are paranormal investigators," he continued. "They have come because of rumors surrounding this village. Rumors about the mountain. About the shrine. About things that happen at night."
My chest tightened. I kept my face still.
"They intend to investigate these claims. They have already begun visiting various locations, the old bonfire site, the forest, the mountain path."
Another murmur. Louder this time. I heard someone say, "They went to the shrine?"
The elder's voice cut through the noise.
"They will not leave until they believe they have solved the mystery of this village."
The room fell silent.
I looked around at the faces. Fear. Anger. Unease. The kind of tension that came before something broke.
No one spoke.
The elder waited.
Then the room erupted.
"There is no mystery here!" a man shouted. I recognized him, the fisherman. His face was red, his fists clenched. "There's nothing to investigate!"
Another voice joined in. "Tell them to leave! They have no right to be here!"
A woman spoke next, the shopkeeper. "They're disturbing the village. They're scaring people. Asking questions about things that don't concern them."
Several others nodded. The room was filling with agreement.
The elder listened calmly.
He didn't interrupt. He didn't argue. He simply waited until the voices had exhausted themselves.
Then he spoke.
"If we forcibly remove them," he said, "it will make the village appear suspicious."
The room quieted.
"Think about it. If we demand that they leave, they will tell others. They will say that we were hiding something. They will return home and spread stories about a village that refused to answer questions."
He paused. His eyes moved across the room.
"Other paranormal investigators may become interested. Rumors will spread. Eventually, even more outsiders could arrive. And if they come…" He looked at each face in turn. "…if they come, we cannot stop them. We cannot control what they find."
The room was silent now.
The elder's voice softened.
"If we chase away one rumor, we may invite a hundred more."
The words settled over the room like a blanket.
I watched the faces change. The anger faded. The fear remained, but it was quieter now, a deep, anxious stillness.
The fisherman lowered his head. The shopkeeper looked away.
No one argued.
The elder nodded slowly.
"Then we are agreed. We will allow them to conduct their investigation. We will answer their questions when we can, and remain silent when we cannot. We will not interfere."
He looked at me. For a moment, his eyes met mine.
"Let them see what we have always seen," he said. "And let them leave when they have seen enough."
I stayed in my place, the elder remained at the front, his hands still folded, his face still calm.
I didn't know if his reasoning was wise.
But I knew it had changed nothing.
The investigators were still here.
The mystery was still waiting.
And I had a feeling that this was only the beginning.
Then elder called out to me.
"Hikaru-san."
He was seated at the front of the room, his hands folded, his eyes fixed on me.
"What do you think?" he asked.
I blinked. "You want my opinion?"
He nodded.
"I'm an outsider too," I reminded him. "I've only been here a short time."
The elder's expression didn't change. "That is precisely why."
I felt the weight of the room settle on me. Most of the villagers turn to look at me. They were watching me. Waiting.
I thought about everything that had happened since I arrived.
Hinata. Her small hands stirring the rice. Her blank eyes on the mountain. The strange words she had spoken.
The shrine. The hidden rope. The fresh rice. The footprints that vanished.
The villagers. Their silence. Their refusal to answer. The way they looked away when the mountain was mentioned.
The investigators. Their equipment. Their questions. Their determination to find answers.
And Kiri. Gone now. But her questions still lingered in the air.
I took a breath.
"Like you said, Let them investigate," I said.
The room was quiet.
I continued. "If we try to stop them, they'll only become more suspicious. They'll dig deeper. They'll find things we don't want them to find." I paused. "But we should keep an eye on them. Know where they go. What they find. That way, if they discover something, something that should stay hidden, we'll know before anyone else."
The elder studied me for a long moment.
Then he nodded slowly.
"That is a wise approach," he said. "We will allow the investigation. And we will watch."
He looked at the villagers.
"Hikaru-san will be our eyes. She understands what is at stake."
I opened my mouth to object. To say that I wasn't qualified, that I was just an outsider, that I had no right to be involved.
But the words didn't come.
Because I was involved.
Whether I wanted to be or not.
The villagers reluctantly agreed.
Voices that had been raised in protest slowly faded into reluctant acceptance. The fisherman crossed his arms and looked away. The shopkeeper pressed her lips together but said nothing. One by one, they nodded.
The investigators would be allowed to continue their investigation.
The reasoning was simple: if they were allowed to investigate and eventually leave satisfied, perhaps the rumors would die with them. No more outsiders would come. No more questions would be asked. The village could return to its quiet, hidden existence.
I watched the faces around me. The tension was still there, lingering beneath the surface. But the anger had cooled into something else, a resigned watchfulness.
The meeting began to break up. Villagers rose, stretching their stiff limbs, murmuring to each other in low voices.
I stayed in my place, waiting.
Then I heard it.
Two villagers were standing near the doorway, their heads close together. Their voices were barely above a whisper.
"We can always give them a few false clues," one said.
The other nodded. "Just enough to keep them busy. Send them in the wrong direction. They'll waste their time and leave."
"Exactly."
I said nothing.
I kept my face still.
But I realized then, the village had already decided to manipulate the investigation. They would allow the investigators to stay, but they would control what they found. They would feed them lies, mislead them, keep them chasing shadows until they grew tired and left.
The compromise was not a compromise at all.
It was a strategy.
I said nothing.
But I filed the information away.
People began leaving, their footsteps fading into the evening air. The house grew quiet. The lanterns flickered, casting long shadows across the room.
I was about to leave when the elder's voice stopped me.
"Hikaru-san."
I turned. He was still seated at the front of the room, his hands folded, his eyes fixed on me.
"You didn't tell the investigators everything about Hinata, did you?"
I paused.
The question hung in the air between us.
I answered honestly.
"No."
He studied me. "Why?"
I thought about Hinata. Her small hands stirring the rice. Her bright smile. The way she had curled up on my lap and fallen asleep. The blankness in her eyes on the mountain. The words she had spoken, words that didn't belong to her.
"Because I don't want strangers questioning Hinata," I said.
The words came out before I could think about them. But they were true.
Hinata was not evidence. She was not a case study. She was not something to be examined, analyzed, picked apart by people who saw her as a piece of a puzzle.
She was a child.
She was my friend.
And I would not let anyone use her.
The elder studied me for a long moment.
His eyes were unreadable. I couldn't tell if he was judging me, weighing my words, or simply waiting.
Then he nodded.
Just once. Slowly.
"That is the right answer," he said.
He didn't explain further.
He simply turned away.
I left the house.
***
The evening air was cool against my face. The stars were beginning to emerge, scattered across the darkening sky.
I walked home.
But the elder's question lingered in my mind.
How long could I keep Hinata safe from the questions that were coming?
I was walking home when I saw her.
The female investigator, Aiko, I remembered, was standing near the well, her notebook in her hands, her gaze fixed on the mountain. She looked lost in thought, her pen hovering above the page.
She noticed me before I could decide whether to avoid her.
"Hikaru-san," she said, her voice warm. "We met earlier. At the market."
I nodded. "I remember."
She smiled. "I was hoping to run into you. I have so many questions." She gestured toward the mountain. "This place is fascinating. I've never seen anything quite like it."
I didn't respond. I just waited.
She seemed to sense my caution. Her smile softened.
"I'm not here to cause trouble," she said. "I'm just... curious. Like you."
I studied her. She was younger than I had first thought, maybe late twenties. Her eyes were sharp, observant. She had the kind of face that was easy to trust.
"How did you hear about this village?" I asked.
She laughed lightly. "The internet, of course. An online rumor went viral. Someone posted a story about a village in the mountains where strange things happen. Disappearances. Sightings. An old abandoned shrine." She shook her head. "It sounded like fiction. But the details were specific. Too specific to be made up."
I felt my chest tighten.
I knew exactly which rumor she was talking about.
And I knew who had spread it.
Kiri.
For a moment, I could almost hear her voice again.
She had asked questions when I wouldn't.
She had noticed things I had ignored.
And before she left, she had decided the village was worth warning someone about.
I couldn't blame her.
But now three investigators were standing in the village because of it.
But I didn't reveal that.
"I see," I said simply.
Aiko continued, her voice bright with enthusiasm. "Some of the details were accurate. The shrine. The mountain. The bonfire. But other parts were completely wrong. Someone mentioned a curse, a curse that affected anyone who stayed too long." She laughed. "I don't believe in curses. But I do believe there's something here worth investigating."
I listened carefully.
The rumor had been distorted. Some details were true. Others were exaggerated or entirely fabricated.
That told me something important:
The investigators had come here because of a story that had already been twisted. They were looking for something that might not exist. They were chasing shadows.
But they were also asking the right questions.
And that made them dangerous.
***
We reached my house.
I stood at the door, my hand on the latch. The evening was quiet. The stars were bright. The village had settled into its usual nighttime stillness.
Aiko was waiting behind me. She had followed me this far, her questions still lingering in the air.
I hesitated.
Then I turned back toward her.
"Would you like to come inside?"
Aiko blinked, clearly surprised.
"I'd like to ask you some things," I said. "About your investigation. About what you've found so far. About what you're looking for."
Her expression shifted, curiosity, caution, interest. She studied me for a moment, weighing my invitation.
Then she nodded.
"Thank you," she said. "I'd like that."
I opened the door.
I stepped inside. She followed.
The door closed behind us.
