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There was something wrong with this village.
That was the conclusion Kafka came to after living there for a year.
Wheeling his bike along the path home from school, he gazed into the forest that surrounded the village. Sunlight trickled through the leaves, and the trees seemed to stretch on forever. The outskirts of the forest looked like something out of a fairytale, quaint and inviting. At night, it was a totally different story. Dark, deep, and forbidding. On his first day moving in with his grandparents, they had warned him not to go into the forest, especially not the dense stretch that led up the mountain.
“Never go inside, no matter what ya see or hear. We’ve lost a few young’uns that way.”
They were so serious when they took him aside to tell him that, faces so shadowed that their wrinkles looked like carvings. He couldn’t forget the troubled expressions they wore that day. It didn’t seem like they were joking.
“And if ya ever hear a voice behind ya or right by yer ear callin’ out to ya, don’t ya ever. Ever. Turn an’ look.”
That had creeped him out at first, but it seemed so silly after a while. What if it was a friend calling out to him? They did that all the time at school, and when he bumped into them at the shopping district, and even on the walk home. He couldn’t let silly superstitions scare him too much.
Tik tik tik tik tik tik
His trusty bike creaked as he hurried past the offerings laid out on the ground by the opening to the path through the forest. There were always offerings there, rice and meat and fruits and sake. But because it was right by the forest, they would end up smeared in dirt and crawling with insects. It was strange how the villagers continued to leave offerings there when no one used that path, not even in summer when the shaded trail would have provided some relief from the sun.
Wiping the sweat off his chin, he contemplated taking that route, but first he would have to get through the wall of flies swarming around the food. Loud and daunting, it was as if they were a gate keeping people out of the forest, a big black buzzing sign that the place was dangerous.
Backtracking and peering through the trees, he could see the path illuminated by the afternoon sun. It looked fine, as long as he could get through before sundown. Glancing around to make sure no one was looking, he stepped through the thick, moving mass of darkness and onto the path. The moment he was inside, the temperature seemed to drop several degrees. Cooling and gently lit, compared to the scorching, searing brightness outside.
“Kafkaaa,” icy breath slithered up his neck as someone called to him from behind. They were so close he could feel their clothes shifting against his own.
Yelping, he turned around and leapt backwards. Familiar cackling laughter followed him as he backed up against a tree, and he frowned. “Soshiro! Don’t scare me like that!”
His friend was doubled over laughing, leaning on his bike for support. A half-eaten ice pop was steadily melting in one shaking hand.
“What are ya doin’ in here? Didn’t yer folks ever tell ya not ta come here?” Soshiro lapped up the runoff from his ice pop. Kafka couldn’t help but follow the flickers of pink, heat rising to his neck. He looked away quickly.
“I uh, thought it’d be easier to cut through,” he confessed. “Don’t you have kendo club today?”
“They cancelled,” his friend shrugged. “Sensei said he had somethin’ urgent come up and had ta leave.”
“Want some?” Soshiro held the ice pop out to him, and Kafka leaned over to give it an experimental lick. Artificial grape burst over his tongue, and he savoured the soothing cold.
“Only flavour they had today,” Soshiro sighed as Kafka closed his whole mouth over the treat. “Ramune ones were sold out. I woulda gotten that instead if they had ‘em, I know ya like ‘em.”
“‘S fine, thanks,” Kafka mumbled around the flavoured ice, sucking noisily to keep the dripping dessert from drooling out of his mouth.
Thin fingers threaded through his hair and he looked up questioningly, lips still wrapped around the ice pop. Soshiro was smiling wide, unusually sharp canines peeking out and a bright flush on his cheeks. His eyes were half lidded, dark maroon gazing down at him with an intensity that would’ve shaken him if he wasn’t already used to it.
“Do ya like it?”
“Mm? Yeah, it’s good.”
Soshiro’s smile got wider somehow, eyes swirling with an unknown emotion. “Ah, that’s good.”
“Here, ya can have the rest,” his friend offered, shifting his grip so Kafka could take it.
Their fingers brushed against each other as he took the ice pop from Soshiro, and a spark of excitement shivered across his hand. His friend’s touch lingered long after he had pulled away. Only a hair’s distance remained between them as they set off down the narrow path together.
The setting reminded Kafka a little of how they first met. Soshiro was a year younger, so he hadn’t seen or spoken to the boy when he first moved there, even though there was plenty of talk about the boy’s family. Always in hushed tones that Kafka would overhear in the late afternoons, when not many people were around and there wasn’t much to do.
According to the adults, the father-son duo served as emissaries of the local mountain god, keeping him content and carrying out his will. Something their entire family had done for generations. Bad things happened when the mountain god got angry, they said. Kafka didn’t believe in these things, it was just old folk tales to scare children away from the treacherous mountain forests. Seeing the adults take it so seriously was weird though. None of his classmates cared about all these superstitions either, but the adults would make decisions based on what the Hoshina family said the mountain god told them. It felt kind of like a cult, or a scam.
Scandalised whispers from the gossiping aunties at the village sundry store told him there was another son, an older one, who had run away to the city chasing a university degree. It wasn’t hard to see why, and he wondered if the other son would do the same.
Right at the beginning of his first summer with his grandparents, the whole village gathered on the morning of an overcast day in June to see Soshiro off. In place of his father, he would be making the ritualistic journey up the mountain to deliver offerings to their mountain god. Sombreness hung in the air as Kafka squeezed his way to the front, watching the boy slowly walk towards the dense forest. He seemed so small in front of the large swathe of trees that swept up the mountain, and he was dressed in restrictive traditional clothing. Kafka wondered how the boy was going to make it up to the shrine and down again when he could barely take a full stride. Seeing him disappear into the darkness of the trees, he couldn’t help but feel uneasy.
Kafka’s unease only grew when it began raining not long after, continuing on through the afternoon and all the way until evening. Thin droplets beat persistently against the classroom window as he stared out at the shifting trees in the distance. The fog and rain made it look like the forest was creeping closer. Tapping his pen against his cheek, he wondered if the boy was alright.
As the sun began to set and Kafka tapped away at his controller, an uproar started up outside his bedroom window.
“He’s not back yet?!”
“Dammit, I knew he was too young ta do this right.”
“Shh, not so loud, Hoshina-san might hear ya.”
“How could this’ve happened?”
“Don’t matter how it happened! It’s gonna get dark soon, we gotta go find ‘im!”
Soon the village was in a frenzy and no one would stop to explain anything.
“Jus’ stay put at home!” they all told him, before shoving him aside and running off with flashlights and rain gear.
From the shouts and snippets of conversation he could catch, he put together that Soshiro hadn’t returned. Looking out at the forest that seemed to press in closer and closer, he found himself moving before he realised it. Throwing on a jacket and rain coat, he snatched up a small torchlight they used for power outages and ran out to join the search. He didn’t know the kid, but the thought of him being lost or injured or worse, out there all alone… he couldn’t just sit still and do nothing.
Plunging into the thick foliage, the difference was like night and day. The moment he stepped inside it became much harder to see in front of him, and a low fog covered the ground. He had to slow down or risk slipping and falling.
“Hoshina-kun!” he called out, shining his torch into the gloom. Nothing.
“Hoshina-kun!” he tried again. Still nothing. He must have gotten lost somewhere deeper in the forest. Taking a step up an incline, he could hear one of the adult search parties in the distance.
“It’s gettin’ too dark! We hafta leave now!” a loud voice bellowed over the others. There was a hush, and some protests, and then they began moving further away. Back to the village.
Kafka stood where he was for a stunned moment, one foot braced against a slick root. They were just gonna give up like this? A kid was missing out there! Gritting his teeth, he continued to power forwards and upwards. There was no way he was going to just give up.
Water invaded his shoes as he trudged through the muddy ground, drenching them until his feet were squelching around inside. He called out from time to time and stopped to check for a response, but the pouring rain made it hard to hear anything.
Sweeping his flashlight through another clump of trees, he noticed a scrap of white on the forest floor, reflecting the weak beam of his torch. His breath caught in his throat. Was that…?
“Hoshina-kun!” he yelled into the curtain of rain and howling winds. Scrambling over as quickly as he could, he knelt down beside the white beacon he had seen. That small sliver was about all that was still white. The kid’s robes and face were streaked with dirt and blood, almost blending into the forest floor.
“Hey! Are you ok? Wake up!” Kafka tried shaking thin shoulders, but there was no response. Checking the kid’s chest, he heaved a sigh of relief when he saw it still rising and falling. It was shallow, but there.
Pulling the kid closer to him, it was worryingly easy picking him up in a bridal carry. Almost as if he were hollow. Keeping the kid pressed close to his core to share some warmth through his raincoat, he scouted around for someplace they could hide out until morning. Whatever remaining daylight was fading fast, and the kid was in no shape to make the trip down the mountain.
“Dammit,” he cursed under his breath as the rain began to thunder down and the winds picked up, ripping at his flimsy raincoat.
Kafka curled himself around the kid’s frail, cold body. “Hang in there!” he yelled over the noise, “I’ll find somewhere safe for us!”
Something snagged at his ankle and he almost pitched forward into empty air, but he caught his shoulder on a sturdy trunk and landed on his butt instead. Kafka held on tight to the kid as they slid down several metres, before coming to a stop at the base of a large tree. Taking deep breaths to calm his pounding heart, he looked down at the unconscious bundle in his arms and grinned with more bravado than he felt, “Don’t worry! I’m not letting you go!”
Scooting himself around slowly, he wedged them behind the large tree. It kept out some of the wind and rain, the best option they had for shelter. The rain was steadily getting worse, so he unzipped his raincoat and wrapped it around the kid too. He was so cold, deathly cold. His jacket kept out most of the water that clung to the kid, but it seeped into his already sopping wet pants. Kafka wondered how long they could hold out like this. The winds were only getting stronger, so powerful it felt like the tiny raindrops blown into his face were flaying his skin. As someone who lived in the city all his life, he had no idea if this extreme weather was normal. All he could do was hold on to the kid in his arms, raincoat flapping in his frozen grip, and hope it would end soon.
A loud crash shook the ground under him and he whipped his head around to look at the source. Lightning flashed overhead, illuminating a small nook made of twisted root structures, large chunks of dirt and debris scattered at its entrance. He figured the storm had knocked the soil loose and caused it to come crumbling down.
Bundling the kid up in his arms again, he braved the short trek around the tree they were hiding behind and hunkered down in the small opening. Inside, things were much calmer. Their makeshift shelter kept out the wind and rain, and he had just enough room to take off his raincoat and shove it into a gap above them to form a makeshift door. Without the elements lashing at them, he pulled the kid into his arms and removed the thick, sodden shirt clinging to chilled skin as gently as he could. It was caked in so much dirt and blood that he had no idea how he spotted it in the first place. Giving the kid a once over, he found an injury to the back of his head. Hair matted down with blood and long since dried. It looked bad, but leaving the shelter when it was dark and wet and cold would be stupid, even for him.
Kafka set the shirt aside and removed his own jacket. Then he zipped it up around the kid’s ice cold body to keep his companion comfortable. There was still some residual heat, and he hoped it would help the kid warm up a little. Left in only a thin shirt, he was suddenly aware of how bitterly cold it was.
“The adults in this village must be crazy, huh?” he mused as he dusted rainwater out of the kid’s hair with trembling fingers. “Sending you out here like that.”
Setting the kid against his shoulder, he kept one arm around the boy to keep him in place as he tried to get comfy. It was going to be a long night. Staring out into the darkness, he could barely make out the shadows of the trees, shuddering and dancing in the wind.
“Kaf… ka,” a thready voice called for him. So close it was right by his ear.
He jolted and turned, but all he could see was the kid, passed out on his shoulder. Laughing at himself, he squeezed the nape of his neck nervously. The village’s paranoia was starting to get to him. The kid probably woke up for a moment and called out to him. Carding his fingers through the boy’s damp hair again, he sighed with relief. That was good, it meant the kid was alright. As he pulled the boy closer for warmth and settled in, he had a thought. Quiet in the back of his tired mind and quickly forgotten.
Hm? Did I ever tell him my name?
Throughout the night, the storm raged on outside, so fierce that he was a little worried their shelter wouldn’t hold up. At one point, rain started dripping through on the kid’s side of the shelter so he pulled the boy in closer, until he was practically sitting in his lap. Feeling the steady rise and fall of a chest against his own, stronger now than it was before, made him a lot braver. Someone was counting on him, so he couldn’t mess up out here.
Then, when dawn broke, everything stopped. The wind died down and the rain cleared up. So suddenly it was as if someone had hit the pause button on the weather. Peeking outside, the forest was calm and inviting after the violently stormy night they just sat through. Dappled sunlight streamed down and the air filled with the usual forest noises. Rustling leaves, cicadas chirping, and birdsong.
“Look! We can go now,” he told his little companion. No response, but that was okay.
Tearing down his raincoat, he shook off the rainwater and folded it dry side up. Trapping it under his unconscious companion’s arms, he lifted the kid again and crawled out of the shelter. Hefting his precious load further into the crook of his arms, he started making his way down. Since it was a mountain, as long as he kept descending, he was sure he could find the village once he reached the bottom.
Travelling down the mountain was surprisingly easy. The ground was slippery with rain, but the slope was gentle and he never lost his footing. In this part of the forest, the trees were also less dense, giving him a clear path. Moving slowly, he resisted the urge to just charge his way down the moment the road was in sight. Relief exploded in his chest as he stepped out onto a paved road, the village a short distance away.
“Yes!” he yelled in triumph. “We’re almost there!”
Shooting the kid another reassuring grin, a genuine one this time, he set off at a brisk pace. The sooner they returned, the sooner the kid could get help. For once, he was grateful for the heat of the sun, thawing out their chilled bones. Yawning wide and shaking away his tiredness, he focused on putting one foot in front of the other. As he got closer to the village, he noticed a group gathered at the entrance, ready to continue their search from the night before.
“Hey!” he yelled, trying to catch their attention. Winced when his voice cracked. “Hey, I’ve got him! He’s hurt!”
That seemed to do it. A few blurry figures broke off from the group and hurried over to them. It was getting harder to see, darkness creeping in at the edges. He felt them take the kid out of his arms.
“He needs help.” Kafka needed them to know this. “His head, he’s hurt.”
“I think ya need some rest yerself, son,” a strong hand landed on his shoulder. It was the last thing he heard before the blackness closed in and he passed out.
Waking up was slow and syrupy, with someone by his ear calling out to him.
“Kafka, Kafka, Kafka,” the voice was unfamiliar, but sweet and beckoning. The lyrical way this mystery person was saying his name was nice. Spilling from a fanged mouth with a languid smile. “I’m never lettin’ ya go either.”
When he opened his eyes, he couldn’t remember what he had been dreaming about. The ceiling was a bright white, the sounds of a bustling hospital distant behind a closed door. Bolting upright he looked around for the kid he brought back with him, and sagged back against the pillow when he found the boy sleeping peacefully in the bed next to his. There were bandages around the kid’s head but he wasn’t hooked up to any machines, which was a good sign. Hopping off his own hospital bed, he padded to the window to look out over the town. From there, he could see the school he was going to, and the shopping district he hung out in with his friends. Biking into town from the village every morning just for school was a pain in the ass, but it was the only way he was getting back to the city again. Good grades, a good school, a good job.
Something tugged at his sleeve, and he followed the fabric down to a thin hand.
“Kaf… ka?” bleary red eyes peered out at him.
Taking the boy’s hand, he cheered, “You’re awake!” He started to pull away, “Wait here, I’ll go find a nurse!”
With whip-like speed, the kid grabbed his wrist and Kafka winced at the tight grip. He was strong for someone who almost died. “Don’ go.”
Heart melting at the plea, he took the boy’s hand again and pulled a chair over to sit down, “Okay, I’ll stay.”
The grip on his arm slackened, and heavy lids closed over hazy eyes. After a few minutes, the boy was asleep again. As promised, Kafka stayed until he was discharged later that day.
After that, they were inseparable. Or rather, Soshiro wouldn’t leave him alone. Everywhere he turned, there would be an impish face waiting for him. He didn’t mind it though, it was kind of cute.
On days Soshiro didn’t have kendo club, he would run from the middle school to wait by the high school entrance gate with a smile on his face. “Kafka, let’s go home together!”
During the weekends he would show up at his house with a little backpack on his shoulders, “Kafka, let’s go inta town today!”
When holidays rolled around, he would call and ask, “Kafka, can I stay over?” They would go to sleep in different futons and somehow wake up in the same one.
His friends began teasing him about it too when they saw Soshiro around campus waiting for him. “Hibino, yer little duckling’s here ta see ya!”
In winter, he remembered asking, “Don’t you have any other friends you hang out with?” They were both huddled under the same blanket, watching a rerun of some old anime.
“I have you,” Soshiro pressed closer, a content smile on his face.
“What about the other people in your class?” Kafka reached out of their blanket cave to grab a chip from the lone bag laying on the floor.
The pressure at his side eased, and Soshiro’s cheery lilt fell to a hush, “Since I got lost in the forest that day, they’ve been avoidin’ me. I think they think I’m possessed.”
Kafka slid an arm around the boy to comfort him, hand going up to rest on his bowed head. These people and their superstitions. Even the ones in town weren’t immune, isolating a kid for such a dumb reason. After that, he didn’t ask again.
“What are ya thinkin’ about?” Soshiro peered up at him curiously, bangs shifting across his face.
“Nothing,” Kafka shook his head and stared out into the forest instead. The dense parts of the forest looked scary even in the daytime. Shifting shadows among the trees that sometimes looked like people. But their limbs were missing or too long or twisted in strange angles. Living in the village and hearing their superstitious ramblings was starting to get to him.
Following his gaze, Soshiro asked, “Are ya scared?”
“No! ‘Course not!” he grinned, hoping it was convincing. By the pinch between his friend’s brows, it wasn’t.
Then Soshiro’s expression eased and he laughed, lips curling with mischief, “I like when ya smile.”
“Gah, don’t tease me!” he shot back. It was a near constant running gag between them - Soshiro complimenting his looks, squeezing his waist, holding his hand. Only, he was starting to… like it. His heart would pound and his cheeks would flush. And he didn’t want his friend to know.
In the corner of his eye, the shadows seemed to shift closer and a prickle went up his spine. Soshiro paused, and he did the same, despite every bone in his body telling him to run. Kicking down his bike stand, his friend stepped forward, closing the gap between them. So close that ruby eyes and a fanged smile were all he could see. Their breath mingling. The heat lingering by his neck rose to his face and he swallowed nervously.
Sinewy arms wrapped themselves around his waist, and a warm body pressed itself against his. “I won’t let anythin’ touch ya.”
Kafka patted Soshiro on the shoulder, feeling ashamed. One year younger and gutsier than he was. As the older and bigger one between them, he should have been the one doing the reassuring. He wasn’t sure what they could do against a forest ghost, but he was happy Soshiro was willing to fight one for him. “Thanks, I’m counting on you!”
A shriek rang out behind him, high and sharp, and his skin crawled. “What-”
Soshiro’s grip around him tightened, fingertips digging into his back that bordered on painful. “Probably an animal or somethin’.”
“Yeah… Yeah probably,” he agreed. There was a lot of wildlife in the forests, it had to be an animal. The nature documentary he watched said that some of them screamed to find mates.
With an indulgent tilt of his head, Soshiro buried his face in the crook of Kafka’s neck. The slow pull of a rare, open-mouthed smile bloomed against the curve of his jaw and sent his heart thundering like a bullet train down shuddering tracks. Shoving down the urge to leap away from embarrassment, he wound his arms around thin shoulders and returned the hug.
“Ya got nothin’ ta be afraid of Kafka,” Soshiro’s tiny fangs scraped against the skin of his neck and he shivered. “Yer safe wit’ me.”
That’s a weird way to put it.
Laughing, he agreed. “Yeah, it feels a lot safer with the two of us, huh?”
Soshiro released his grip to trace the rise of Kafka’s shoulder blade and hummed his agreement. And as the wind rustled through the trees, he thought he could hear urgent whispers among the susurrus. “Danger,” they said. “Run.”
But as soon as Soshiro pulled away, they disappeared.
Shuddering, Kafka cast one last glance into the deep forest again, and let out a breath when he saw nothing unusual. No swaying ghosts or ghouls staring back at him from the darkness. Gripping his bike handles until his knuckles turned white, he laughed again, more nervous this time. “Let’s go, this place gives me the creeps.”
Nodding, his friend toed his kickstand back up and followed beside him, satisfaction curling across his face.
The forest was quiet the rest of the way out.