Prologue

Moonlight glazed over the shingles of the house's roof, the only sort of illumination in the starless night. A warm breeze blew through the trees in the humid summer air, intertwining the chirping of cicadas. It was a typical August night, humid no matter what time it was. It was a night that no one would dare go out in unless they truly desired to. The forest surrounding the house was in utter silence, minus the distant howl of a dog and the irritating sounds of various summer insects. The glow of three flashlights interrupted the setting of solitude, a blinding light in complete darkness.

"So, who wants to go first?" The leader of the trio of boys asked, standing confidently in front of the gate. The house was in traditional architecture, a huge wooden structure with two stories surrounded by a once tranquil garden.

"How about you, Takeshi?" The boy turned his flashlight to his friend.

Takeshi squinted at the light, turning his head away from the glow. "Shouldn't you go first, Akio? You're our leader…" He tried to sound as reasonable as he could, forcing his fear back.

"Yeah, sure. You're my subordinate, and so are you, Kouichi." Akio gave a warning glance at his other accomplice, who lit a cigarette with the flick of his lighter. "I say Takeshi goes first. Don't you agree?"

Kouichi shrugged in response, blowing smoke into the air. "I don't see an issue. I love it when rookies act tough and immediately piss themselves as soon as they see one dead body."

"Good. Then, Takeshi, you get the honors of looting the murder house. Maybe you'll get lucky and find a real corpse. You could grow a pair and screw it. Only girl you'll ever get anyway…" With a shove, Takeshi was forced through the gate and into the garden of the house.

Takeshi didn't dare look back at the other boys, keeping his focus on the garden. The scenery was well maintained for the months of neglect, every tree and plant neatly trimmed to the last uneven branch. The only thing out of ordinary was the huge, murky pond in the corner of the garden. Even in the darkness, he could tell the slimy green surface of the water, a green and brown concoction that sickened him to look at. He could barely think of what could be in those waters.

Averting his eyes from the pond, he slowly slid open the door leading inside. Even with the gate closed, he was painfully aware of the burning gazes of his friends, wishing desperately to escape them. In truth, he was terrified of what could lie in this house, all the stories and rumors running through his head. However, he needed to prove himself, prove he was strong enough to join their group.

His flashlight flickered as he made his way to the rooms, looking for anything of value. He hit the flashlight once to get the light to return, turning it to a small table with an antique vase perched on top. The flowers in the vase had been long dead, its petals wilted and scattered onto the table and tatami mat below. The vase itself, however, was something that caught his eye. It could be something that could be sold for some fair money, an item worthy of Akio. Takeshi picked up the vase, discarding its contents on the floor and tucking it under his arm. He moved onto the next room, the small kitchen full of unused utensils and supplies. He rummaged through the utensils, uncaring of what noise he made. He scavenged every cabinet, even turning on the sink out of curiosity, though nothing came out from it. Once every inch was upturned, he approached the fridge, the only thing he hadn't looked at yet. He didn't expect to find anything that wasn't rotten, but he had some small hopes to find any unexpired booze to bring back to Akio and Kouichi. He took the flashlight into his other hand to open the door. A cold chill coursed through his body at the touch, though he dismissed it with a shudder. Swinging open the fridge door, his eyes caught some cases of alcohol instantly. His other senses, however, were strangled by the heavy scent of rotten meat. He instantly held his breath to avoid the horrific stench, resisting the urge to vomit. Turning his head away, he reached for the case of alcohol, hoping it'd please his friends. He clutched the cardboard handle of the six pack, the rotten smell erased from his thoughts. Instead, they were replaced by the thoughts of the warm liquid trickling down his throat. He desperately needed it himself after coming to this abandoned place.

A cold force slammed down onto his wrist, gripping so tightly he could barely feel circulation. Takeshi's heart practically jumped out of his chest, everything forgotten in that instant. The flashlight and vase slipped from his free hand, glass shattering over the wooden floor, mixed with the cracked plastic of the now broken flashlight. He frantically pulled at his other arm, his nails tearing into his flesh as he tried to loosen whatever had a hold of him. His nails were covered in blood, but he ignored it, tearing viciously into his own flesh. He forced himself to look at whatever this thing was, hoping he could do something to escape. The figure met his gaze, causing him to freeze at the sight. A heavily decayed corpse stared back at him, maggots crawling out of its empty eye sockets and into its skeletal mouth. Takeshi didn't know when he'd screamed or how loud it was, but he was certain he did at that moment. The possessed corpse—if anyone could fully understand what it was— lunged at Takeshi, emitting a shriek loud enough to make a person's ears bleed. That was when Takeshi noticed its concealed weapon, a large kitchen knife, lodged into his abdomen. The apparition released its grip, causing Takeshi to stumble onto the floor. He leaned up against the wall, clutching at his abdomen, the blood easing through his shirt like a thin cloth. His vision blurred and blood trickled from his mouth and nose. The only thing he could see was a bright figure in front of him, though he couldn't make anything out. He waited for the other two boys to save him, hoping they'd heard the scream. But all there was was the glowing figure looming above him and the sound of incoherent whispering. They were surely taunting him, insulting him… mocking his efforts to please his comrades. He tried to tell them to stop, to shut up, but all that came out was a gurgling noise as blood bubbled out of his lips. It was the last thing he heard as he closed his eyes and took his last breath, the ghostly figure smiling down on him as he finally succumbed to his wound.