Narukami Pass Shelter

Mountain rain begins without warning.

Miyu was the first to notice.

“...Did someone leave the window open?”

She looked up from the back seat of the aging van, pushing wet strands of hair behind her ear. Outside, the mountains were already sinking into darkness even though it was only five in the evening.

Kengo clicked his tongue from the driver’s seat.

“It’s closed. Probably just the humidity.”

But Miyu kept shivering.

Something cold still lingered against the back of her neck, like the breath of someone standing far too close.

The seven university students from a film club had come to Narukami Pass, deep near the border of Nara and Mie Prefectures, to shoot a “haunted location investigation” video.

An abandoned village swallowed by landslides ten years ago.

A sealed tunnel hidden in the mountains.

And the local rumor of “the child who disappears when it rains.”

At first, it had only been content for views.

At least, until they arrived.

The mountain road had no guardrails. Thick fog devoured the headlights, leaving only a few meters visible ahead. Their phones had lost signal over an hour ago.

“How much farther?” Ryota asked from the back.

“The old tunnel should be close,” Kengo replied while zooming into an offline map. “The village ruins are past it.”

Then the van suddenly slammed to a stop.

Everyone lurched forward.

“What the hell?!”

A figure stood in the middle of the road.

White.

A child.

Standing motionless beneath the rain.

Red rain boots.

Yellow umbrella.

Head lowered.

Not moving.

“...Why is there a kid out here?”

Nobody volunteered to step outside.

Every time the windshield wipers swept across the glass, the child somehow looked closer.

No.

Not closer.

The child never moved.

Yet the distance kept shrinking.

“Kengo, back up!”

“I’m trying!”

The engine roared, but the tires only spun helplessly in the mud.

Then—

BANG.

Something struck the rear of the van.

Everyone turned.

A wet handprint pressed slowly against the back window.

Five fingers.

Long and thin.

Not a child’s hand.

“...Someone’s there,” Haruka whispered.

At that exact moment, something flashed past the passenger-side window.

A pale face.

Eyes too large.

And a grin stretched almost to its ears.

The scream inside the van shattered the silence.

Kengo slammed the accelerator, and the van lurched violently forward through the mud.

There was no sensation of hitting the child.

But in the rearview mirror, they saw it.

The child still stood in the road.

And behind the child—

Another figure.

An adult wearing a black raincoat.

Its face unnaturally white.

◆

The old Narukami Tunnel looked like the entrance to a grave.

Cracked concrete walls leaked water, and freezing air poured from the darkness inside.

“We’re really staying here?” Haruka asked shakily.

“We wait until the rain stops,” Kengo answered, though sweat glistened across his forehead.

The tunnel walls were covered in old paper talismans.

Most had rotted black from moisture.

But one looked newer.

DON’T ENTER.

The warning was written in thick red marker.

“Yeah, that’s not creepy at all,” Ryota muttered nervously.

Then something echoed from deeper inside the tunnel.

Clack.

A small stone rolled across the ground.

Everyone froze.

Beyond the reach of their lights—

something was watching them.

“...Hello?” Kengo called out weakly.

No response.

Instead, they heard water splashing.

Drip.

Step.

Drip.

Bare feet walking slowly through puddles.

Coming closer.

“This is bad... let’s leave,” Miyu whispered as she grabbed Kengo’s sleeve.

Then Takumi, standing at the back of the group, screamed.

“WHO’S THERE?!”

Everyone turned.

At the tunnel entrance stood a figure.

Long black hair.

Skin pale as paper.

A black raincoat soaked by rain.

Its face floated in the darkness.

Smiling.

Too wide.

Then the portable LED lanterns suddenly died.

Darkness swallowed everything.

Someone cried out.

Footsteps ran wildly.

Wet breathing echoed nearby.

And then—

Crunch.

A horrible sound.

Like flesh collapsing.

“...Takumi?”

No answer.

When the lights flickered back on, Takumi was gone.

On the wall beside them, written in blood, were the words:

—Still six left.

◆

Panic exploded through the group as they fled the tunnel.

But the road they came from was gone.

No mountain path.

No van.

No guardrails.

Only fog.

“That’s impossible...” Haruka collapsed to her knees.

Then, from somewhere deeper in the mountains, festival music drifted through the mist.

Taiko drums.

Flutes.

Children laughing.

Dim lantern lights glowed faintly ahead.

But the village had supposedly been abandoned for years.

“...There are people there,” Kengo said. “Maybe they can help.”

Nobody agreed.

But nobody argued either.

The rain was getting heavier.

And there was nowhere else to go.

They followed the lights.

Beyond the fog stood a small village lit by swaying lanterns.

People in yukata walked quietly through the streets.

But none of them had faces.

Smooth skin where eyes and mouths should have been.

Miyu nearly choked on her own breath.

Among them stood one figure with a face.

The black raincoat.

The pale skin.

The split grin.

The thing slowly raised one hand and waved at them.

Someone screamed to run.

Too late.

Every lantern went dark at once.

The village vanished into blackness.

Then came the sound of footsteps.

Dozens of them.

Children giggling.

Wet breathing beside their ears.

And a whisper in the dark:

“...Still five left.”

Someone disappeared.

Nobody could tell who.

Because in the darkness, every scream sounded exactly the same.