Chapter 6 — Whispers of Aokigahara

The forest loomed before them like a black ocean of trees. Aokigahara had always been a place of whispers and shadows, but now… it had grown, stretched, consumed. What had once been a dense woodland at the foot of Mount Fuji was now three times its former size, sprawling like a living curse across the land.

Agnes adjusted her appearance as they entered the treeline—her hair shifting to crimson streaked with black, her eyes fading to soft brown. The transformation was seamless, yet uncanny.

Rika gasped softly. “Your hair… and your eyes… they changed.”

Agnes gave a small smile, almost embarrassed. “It’s nothing special. I’m just an android, programmed for adaptation.”

Her voice was calm, but her report to Kohaku carried no levity. “Scan complete. The forest has expanded to three times its original size. Once inside, navigation becomes unreliable. Any human who enters risks losing their way permanently.”

They pressed forward. The deeper they went, the quieter the world became. Not even birds dared to sing. Only the crunch of broken twigs beneath their boots, and the faint static hum of Agnes’s sensors.

Soon, Rika’s steps slowed. Her violet eyes widened as she stumbled into a clearing littered with bones. Human skulls lay scattered in the dirt, tangled among the roots of twisted trees.

She fell to her knees, whispering a prayer. “…So many… they couldn’t find the way out.”

Then she heard it.

“Rika…”

Her head snapped up. Beyond the mist, two familiar figures appeared, hands reaching toward her. A man and woman, their faces worn but kind.

“Mother? Father…?” Her voice broke. Tears welled in her eyes as she stepped forward. “It’s really you…”

Her hand trembled as she reached toward them.

But a firm grip caught her arm.

Kohaku’s gauntleted hand pulled her back. His voice, heavy and distorted through the mask, rumbled in the silence. “Rika. Do not forget. We’re still inside Aokigahara.”

The illusion shattered. The figures dissolved into fog. Rika blinked, disoriented, her tears burning as she whispered, “K-Kohaku…?”

Agnes’s scanner flickered. “No life signature detected. Only spectral interference. She was caught in a hallucinatory field.”

They set camp as the sun bled into the horizon. The forest groaned in the night, low howls echoing like mournful cries.

Rika fell asleep beside the campfire, her face pale. And in her dreams, the whispers returned.

“Come closer, Rika… come to us…”

The voices carried her name, again and again, until she covered her ears and screamed—yet no sound escaped her mouth. Shadows stretched toward her. Her parents’ faces smiled, but their eyes were hollow voids.

She woke in a cold sweat. The fire still crackled. Kohaku sat silently, sharpening his blade, while Agnes monitored the perimeter.

Morning came, bleak and gray. They shared a meager breakfast in silence until Rika finally snapped, pointing at the masked hunter.

“Wait a second—how do you even eat if you never remove that helmet?”

Agnes tilted her head, answering smoothly before Kohaku could. “He already ate before you woke up, Rika-san.”

Rika blinked, frustrated, her cheeks puffing slightly in a pout. “That doesn’t answer anything…”

They continued their march deeper into the forest. The air grew heavier, the mist thicker. Faint cries echoed from the trees—soft at first, then louder.

“Help me… please…”
“Don’t leave me here…”
“Save us…”

Rika’s hands trembled. “These voices… they sound so real.”

Kohaku walked on, silent, unmoved.

Finally, Rika stepped in front of him, eyes blazing despite the fear in her chest. “Wait! At least show me you’re human—that you can feel fear too!”

But the masked man only brushed past her, his heavy steps crunching the soil. He didn’t slow, didn’t falter. His silence was louder than any scream.

Rika clenched her fists, her lips trembling. “Damn you…” she muttered, pouting again though tears threatened at the corners of her eyes.

Suddenly Agnes froze, sensors flaring. “Detecting… a human frequency. Recent. Less than two hours old. Someone entered the forest.”

Then came the sound. A child’s scream, shrill and terrified, cutting through the fog.

Rika’s heart lurched. “A child! We have to help them!”

Kohaku’s voice cut sharp and cold. “Ignore it. That’s no child—it’s a restless soul.”

But Agnes turned, her eyes flashing with confirmation. “Negative. Frequency is pure. It belongs to a living human.”

Rika spun toward Kohaku, her violet eyes blazing with fury. “How can you just walk away? What if it’s real? What if a child is dying out there?!”

For the first time, his steps halted. He didn’t turn, didn’t speak immediately. The forest howled around them, shadows moving in the mist.

Finally, he muttered, low and reluctant. “…Prove it.”

The three turned toward the echo of the scream, unaware that crimson eyes had been watching them from the fog. A silhouette lingered, then melted back into the mist—leaving only the sense that something ancient and hungry was stalking them.