CHAPTER 6 : A HOUSE BUILT ON SHADOW LIES
The bells were still ringing when he found her.
The forest was silent now, save for the echoing clang that faded slowly into nothingness. The villagers had fled. Their footprints stained the snow like bruises. Somewhere in the distance, the mountain's shrine burned in slow, reluctant flames.
But in the clearing, beneath the half-collapsed torii gate, she stood.
Small.
Barefoot.
A girl—or something resembling one.
Her long black hair clung wetly to her skin, her ceremonial robe torn at the hem, trailing behind her like ash.
Haruki watched her quietly.
She didn't turn.
She only stood there, hands hanging at her sides, throat bruised from where the rope had failed to kill her.
Failed.
A shimenawa rope—the sacred rope meant to bind impurity—lay snapped near her feet.
He stepped closer.
Her voice broke the silence.
"I'm not dead."
It wasn't a question. Or even a statement of confusion. Simply… fact.
Haruki said nothing.
"I heard them say… I was wrong," she continued. Her voice was fragile. Childish. Detached.
"I wasn't meant to be born."
She tilted her head slowly.
"Father said… I wasn't supposed to live."
Haruki's sword lowered.
He wasn't sure why.
She turned then.
And smiled.
Like nothing had happened.
"Are you here to take me away?"
She asked it so innocently that for a moment, Haruki forgot the ritual fires behind them. Forgot the rope burns around her neck. Forgot the silence of the forest.
"…Yes," he said softly. "Come with me."
She didn't hesitate.
She walked forward, barefoot over broken stones, her steps soundless.
When she reached him, she looked up. Black eyes that reflected nothing. He expected hatred. Grief. Even terror.
What he saw was worse.
Hope.
"You're mine now."
It wasn't a question.
She took his hand without waiting for permission.
And Haruki didn't pull away.
---
They returned to the village by morning.
The villagers didn't question why he carried her. Nor why he refused to explain where he'd found her. They only looked at the bruises. The torn robe. And understood their failure.
Haruki left her at his family home.
He washed her wounds in silence.
She let him.
She didn't flinch when the hot water touched broken skin.
When he wrapped the linen around her wrists, she spoke softly.
"You'll protect me. From Father. From them."
Haruki paused.
He whispered, "Who is your father?"
She smiled.
Eyes closed. Like remembering something sweet.
"He is everywhere."
Haruki's hands trembled for a moment.
She opened her eyes.
"I want to stay with you."
"…Why?"
She looked confused by the question.
"Because you saved me."
Haruki shook his head.
"I only carried you out."
She tilted her head again, expression blank.
"That's what saving means."
Haruki said nothing.
She whispered.
"You're mine now."
---
Days passed.
She didn't leave.
She sat beside the hearth in silence when he worked.
She followed him wordlessly when he patrolled.
She sat outside his door at night, waiting.
He tried to return her to the shrine.
The elders refused.
He tried to leave her at the monastery.
She returned to him before morning.
Finally… he let her stay.
Not out of mercy.
Out of exhaustion.
She ate little. Slept less.
But when she looked at him, her black eyes were steady.
"You're mine."
She said it like breathing.
---
One night, long after midnight, Haruki awoke.
The house was cold.
The fire had burned out.
But she wasn't beside the hearth.
He searched in silence.
And found her.
In the old forest.
Kneeling like a child before a forgotten stone altar.
Her small form shivered in the winter air, her robe soaked with snowmelt, her knees cut and bloodied from crawling.
She sat perfectly still, like a doll abandoned in worship.
Before her loomed the statue.
Time had eroded its features. Half-man, half something else. Long fingers stretched down like roots. Its eyes, where they remained, gazed eternally downward.
She whispered to it.
"I want him."
Silence.
"I want that man."
Silence.
"I'll be good. Please… I'll be good."
Her voice cracked.
The air around the statue trembled faintly. Snowflakes hung suspended, unmoving, caught mid-fall like insects in amber.
Then…
Something replied.
A voice that wasn't a voice.
A sound that wasn't heard.
Only felt.
Haruki stood frozen. The breath in his throat turned to ice.
She looked up.
And smiled.
"Thank you."
---
She rose then.
Her feet bare, leaving no prints in the snow.
And when she passed Haruki, her small hand reached out—
Not to take his.
But to brush his sleeve softly, reverently.
"You're mine now."
She whispered it like a promise.
And walked back toward the house.
---
Beneath the statue, the snow never fell again.
And Haruki never spoke of that night.
Not to anyone.
Not even in the diary they would one day find.
---
"The Gentle Art of Becoming Monsters"
---
You think cruelty is loud.
You're wrong.
Cruelty is quiet.
It's patient.
It waits behind words like "later" and "someone else will help."
It doesn't need fangs or claws.
Cruelty only needs your silence.
It's built in small ways:
In the child you ignored.
In the friend you abandoned.
In the stranger you didn't ask.
And then…
It grows.
---
Monsters aren't myths.
They aren't in the shadows.
They're in bright kitchens, silent bedrooms, empty schools.
They sit beside you at dinner.
They smile at your door.
And sometimes, they speak with your voice.
---
Do you know when it happened?
When you let the kindness in you start to rot?
Maybe you don't.
Maybe you told yourself:
> "I'm busy."
> "I'm tired."
> "I'm not responsible."
But you were.
You still are.
Every time you walked away,
Every time you said nothing,
Every time you chose comfort over decency—
A piece of you died.
And something else… learned to live.
---
It's easy to hate monsters in stories.
Because they're simple.
Because they're not you.
But what if monsters aren't creatures?
What if monsters are made of your choices?
And worse—your lack of them.
---
How many people did you break without lifting a hand?
How many wounds did you cause without leaving a mark?
How many hearts did you help silence?
---
The monster you fear isn't outside.
It's the kindness you buried.
It's the apology you never said.
It's the question you never asked.
It's the love you chose not to give.
That's all a monster is.
Someone who once had the choice to care…
And chose not to.
---
And yet, you'll still ask:
"Who hurt them?"
You did.
---
But don't worry.
Monsters don't blame their creators.
They thank them.
---
So, tell me:
Who have you forgotten?
Who needed you?
Who died quietly in your silence?
Are you sure you're human?
Or did you just become the most dangerous thing of all:
A person who learned how to look away…
And feel nothing.
---
Now, continue.
Because monsters never pause.
But perhaps, just once, you should.
---
---
The rain had not stopped since morning. At Kurokawa Central Police Station, the walls themselves felt heavy, suffocated by the weight of unspoken truths. Water dripped down cracked windowpanes, the rhythmic tapping against glass a somber metronome counting down to inevitable ruin.
In the main hall, Captain Rei-sama stood silently, her gaze fixed on nothing, yet seeing everything. Around her, the station stirred with subdued urgency. Souta-san, Renji-san, Mika-chan, Aiko-san, Kenji-san, Naomi-san, Riku-san, and even Dr. Haene-san herself occupied the space like shadows trapped within walls. None of them spoke of the morning's horror, but their eyes did.
---
Takashi Narita sat alone in the interrogation chamber. His hands trembled as he held the photograph of the girl. Rain-soaked, blood-smudged, but smiling. The photograph was decades old, yet he clutched it as if it was his final breath.
Across the glass, Aiko-san watched him, her throat tightening. Kenji-san's arms remained folded, jaw set like stone. Naomi-san stood near the door, breathing slowly through her nose as if trying to force reason into her lungs. Riku-san fidgeted, unable to meet anyone's eyes. And Daisuke-san... silent, as always, lingered at the back.
Captain Rei-sama's voice broke the silence. "We start when he breaks."
But they all knew. He already had.
---
Dr. Haene-san wasn't supposed to be there. But she was. Her white coat clung to her in the damp cold. Curiosity, she claimed. None questioned her further. Not now.
Mika-chan approached with soft footsteps, standing next to Souta-san and Renji-san near the monitors. Her voice was hesitant. "He's scared. Of his own memories."
Souta-san muttered, "Monsters know fear too."
Renji-san said nothing. His sketches from the case files lay clutched in his ink-stained hands. He kept drawing the same house. Over. And over.
---
And then Takashi Narita began to speak.
"I had no mother. Just a father who drank and said I ruined him... until Hajime."
The rain outside intensified, as if the sky itself strained to listen.
"Hajime was born to another woman. They said she died when he was small. Maybe she did. Maybe she escaped. I envied him, you know? Father never hit him. Never screamed at him. Never told him he was a mistake."
His voice cracked. His tears were dry.
"But Hajime... he saw me differently. He told me once, 'We're shadows, not sons.' And I believed him. He followed me. Watched me. Protected me. Loved me. Until he didn't."
Outside, Kenji-san whispered, "What does that mean?"
Dr. Haene-san shivered, replying softly, "It means the brother never stopped watching."
---
Takashi continued, his voice fragmented.
"I married young. My first wife... Aya-chan. She smiled like sunlight. She cried a lot too. Said someone whispered from behind doors. That shadows moved in the mirrors. I said she was mad."
He laughed, a hollow sound that made even Rei-sama stiffen.
"She was right. It was Hajime."
Naomi-san flinched.
Takashi clutched the photograph tighter. "She disappeared. But not really. He killed her. He told me he saved me. I believed him. I married again. A safer woman. Quieter. She loved me. But then..."
Silence.
Captain Rei-sama leaned forward. "But then what, Takashi-san?"
Takashi shook, voice breaking. "Then she met Hajime too."
Rain battered the glass as if it, too, wanted answers.
"She found my letters. The ones I sent to the girl. She confronted me. She said I needed help. Hajime said she'd leave me. That she'd take everything."
He whispered, "So I let him stop her."
Souta-san muttered a curse under his breath. Mika-chan pressed her hands to her mouth. Even Riku-san's knees threatened to give way.
Aiko-san's whisper cracked the air. "And the girl?"
Takashi sobbed. "She was my happiness. My freedom. My last chance to be loved. Hajime said he'd keep her safe. But she screamed. I heard her scream. And I did nothing. I did nothing!"
---
Silence swallowed the station whole.
Daisuke-san, who hadn't spoken once, finally stepped forward. His voice was quiet. "Where is your brother now, Takashi-san?"
Takashi's answer was softer than death.
"In the river."
Captain Rei-sama's fists clenched. "You killed him."
Takashi didn't deny it.
"I had to. He said the girl was his now. I couldn't let that happen. Not again."
---
Hours later, inside the cold silence of the holding cells, Daisuke-san visited him alone.
Takashi Narita sat, rocking slowly, whispering to ghosts.
When Daisuke-san approached, Takashi lifted dead eyes.
"You know," Takashi whispered, "how it feels to be loved by shadows."
Daisuke-san paused.
Then, with a tired, hollow smile, he replied softly.
"I don't remember what it felt like to be loved at all."
The sound of chains echoed softly as Daisuke-san walked away.
And behind him, Takashi's broken laughter bled into the rain.
---
Outside, the team stood silent. Souta-san. Renji-san. Mika-chan. Captain Rei-sama. Dr. Haene-san. Aiko-san. Kenji-san. Naomi-san. Riku-san. Daisuke-san rejoined them, gaze lowered.
Aiko-san spoke last.
"Case closed."
But no one answered.
Because in their hearts, none believed her.