Welcome to the Misty Backwoods

​If someone had told me a week ago that instead of the familiar rush of Tokyo, the blinding neon lights of Shibuya, and the rich aroma of fresh coffee from a twenty-four-hour konbini, I’d be rattling along in a decrepit commuter bus through the middle of nowhere, I would have laughed right in their face.

​Life, however, seems to have a sick sense of humor.

​It all went down way too fast. My parents were suddenly offered an overseas contract that was apparently too lucrative to refuse—a full year’s deployment abroad. A whole damn year. You’d think that at seventeen, I’d be self-sufficient enough. I knew how to cook basic meals, do my own laundry, and even manage utility bills. Leave me a credit card, the keys to the apartment, and we’d have a happy reunion twelve months later.

​Fat chance. In Mom’s eyes, I was still some clueless first-grader liable to burn the entire building down just by microwaving an onigiri. So, after endless family debates, my life was packed into two suitcases, and I was shipped off into exile. To my aunt’s place.

​In a town whose name I hadn’t even seen on a map before.

​The further the rickety bus dragged me away from civilization, the tighter my chest felt. The view outside had mutated beyond recognition. Concrete overpasses and tidy suburban homes had long been swallowed by towering, unnaturally dark pines. The forest pressed right up against the asphalt—thick, ancient, as if it had been thriving here long before the first human ever walked the earth.

​And then there was the fog.

​At first, it was just a faint haze drifting over the road, but as we drew nearer, it thickened, smothering the trees in a heavy, semi-opaque blanket. It was as if sunlight had been permanently banned from this valley. The air felt cold, unwelcoming, and bizarrely muffled—like the mist was swallowing even the roar of the engine.

​With a drawn-out, agonizing screech of brakes, the bus finally ground to a halt.

​“End of the line, kid,” a raspy voice called out.

​I tugged on my backpack strap and glanced around. The cabin was completely barren. Seriously, over the last two hours, not a single passenger had boarded. I’d made the entire trip alone. In absolute isolation.

​Grabbing my duffel bag, I stepped toward the exit. Right on the stairs, some dark impulse made me look back at the driver. The old man in the battered peaked cap turned his head in agonizing slow motion. A wide, unnaturally rigid grin stretched across his face, exposing teeth that were far too straight and pristine for a man his age.

​“Best of luck, son,” he murmured.

​His voice sounded like dry leaves scraping against pavement. A violent wave of goosebumps tore down my spine, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. What the hell was that supposed to mean? A blessing, or a thinly veiled threat?

​I bolted out onto the cracked asphalt of the bus stop. The pneumatic doors hissed shut behind me, and the bus, wrapped in exhaust fumes, vanished into the grey murk in an instant.

​I was left alone with the silence.

​Before I could even draw a breath to calm my racing heart, the silence was shattered by a piercing screech:

​“Reeeen-kun!”

​Tearing through the mist, flailing her arms and nearly snapping her heels on a road sign, a woman came barreling toward me. I didn’t even have time to blink before the air was violently forced from my lungs. She slammed into me with a bone-crushing hug.

​“Oh my gosh, you made it! You’re alive! You’re actually here!” she wailed directly into my neck.

​Her grip was genuinely terrifying—bear-like. My ribs creaked in protest, and dark spots danced across my vision.

​“A-Auntie… running out… of oxygen…” I wheezed, frantically patting her on the back.

​“Ah! S-Sorry, sorry!” She finally let go and took a step back, bursting into clear, bright laughter.

​I gulped down the damp air, my chest heaving, and finally got a good look at her.

​“I… cough… good to see you too.”

​Truth be told, my memory of my aunt was frozen somewhere in the hazy blur of early childhood. She’d visited us maybe twice when I was around seven, and back then, she just seemed like a tall, bubbly adult relative.

​Seeing her now, though…

​She had to be well into her thirties, but she looked like she’d graduated from college just yesterday. Long, silky hair, striking eyes, a flawless figure accentuated by a casual knit sweater, and features that could put fashion magazine cover models to shame. Not a single wrinkle. She was stunning. Utterly, ridiculously gorgeous.

​A stray thought involuntarily crossed my mind: This drop-dead gorgeous woman is my aunt?

​The moment I realized what I was thinking, heat flared in my cheeks. My entire face flushed bright crimson, all the way to the tips of my ears.

​Catching sight of my burning face, her expression melted into pure amusement.

​“Aww, would you look at that! Are you so happy to see your favorite auntie that you’ve turned red as a boiled lobster? How adorable!”

​“That’s not it at all… It’s just stuffy out here,” I muttered, looking away in a desperate bid to salvage my dignity.

​“Right, stuffy in the fog at fifteen degrees!” she teased.

​Without breaking a sweat, she casually hoisted my heaviest travel bag—not a single muscle on her face straining—and waved for me to follow.

​“Come on, our place isn’t far.”

​We walked down the empty road. Modest two-story houses tucked behind low fences were swallowed by the gloom. There wasn't a single soul in sight.

​“Hey… what kind of town is this anyway?” I couldn't help asking, glancing nervously into the endless fog. “It looks, to put it mildly, kind of creepy. Like the set of a horror movie.”

​“Nonsense!” she scoffed. “It’s not creepy at all. It’s quiet, peaceful, and the air is fresh—not like that polluted smog back in Tokyo. You’re gonna love it here! And besides…” She leaned in and gave me a conspiratorial wink. “The girls around here are drop-dead gorgeous. A real feast for the eyes!”

​I gave an indifferent shrug, adjusting my backpack.

​“Not really interested. I’m here to focus on school, not chase girls.”

​My aunt stopped dead in her tracks. She spun around and stared at me with an expression of pure, unadulterated horror.

​“Wait… Ren… Don’t tell me… are you into boys?!”

​I choked on my own spit.

​“WHAT?! No! Where on earth did you get that from?!”

​“Well, how else am I supposed to take ‘I’m not interested in pretty girls’?!” She threw her hands in the air with maximum theatrical drama. “At seventeen years old! Oh sweet heavens, my only nephew…”

​“I meant romance isn't my priority right now!” I flailed my hands in panic, dying of mortification. “I’m straight! Totally normal! Just… drop it!”

​She stared at me for another second before bursting into a loud, melodic laugh, clapping a hand down on my shoulder.

​“I’m just messing with you! You should see your face right now! Alright, relax. Let’s hurry, or dinner’s going to get cold.”

​For the rest of the walk, she chattered away without pause, bombarding me with questions about everything: how my parents were doing, how my grades were, what was trending in the capital. I barely managed to toss in one-word answers, struggling to keep pace with her boundless energy.

​Before long, we arrived at a two-story house. It was a standard timber-and-siding build with a neat little yard, typical of suburban Japan. Nothing sinister about it.

​We stepped through the front door. The genkan was cloaked in a pristine, almost ringing silence. No extra shoes on the racks. No sign of another living soul.

​“Do you… live alone?” I asked, kicking off my sneakers.

​“Yep, all by my lonesome,” she called back, heading straight for the kitchen.

​I scanned the tidy hallway. Strange. A woman like her… vibrant, gorgeous, fun. I’d been dead certain she’d have a husband, or at least a fiancé living here. With looks like hers, there was no way—

​“Thinking I’d have some handsome boyfriend around, weren’t you?” her voice rang out.

​She was leaning against the kitchen doorframe, arms crossed over her chest, eyes narrowed with a smug squint.

​I froze. “Well… yeah. I mean, you’re…” I caught myself, cutting the sentence short.

​“Pretty?” she supplied with a triumphant grin.

​Pressing both hands to her cheeks, she let out a delighted squeal:

​“Aaaah! You really think I’m pretty?! What a sweet boy!”

​I stared resolutely at the floorboards, deciding that any further commentary would be fatal to my mental health.

​My aunt let out a soft sigh, her face momentarily turning unusually quiet and reflective.

​“Unfortunately, Ren-kun… I have absolute rotten luck with romance. It’s like a curse. Everyone runs away in the end.”

​An awkward silence hung in the air for a beat, but I decided against prying. Instead, I asked:

​“Where’s my room?”

​“Second floor, first door on the right!” Her cheerful persona snapped back instantly. “Make yourself at home while I finish up dinner.”

​Heading upstairs, I found the room. It was clean, bright, and carried the pleasant scent of cedar and fresh tatami mats. A proper bed sat against the wall, flanked by a study desk and a wardrobe.

​Dumping my bags onto the floor, I collapsed face-first onto the mattress.

​Every single muscle in my body throbbed. The travel had drained whatever reserves I had left—the crack-of-dawn alarm, the train transfers, the sheer anxiety, and the rattling bus where my nerves hadn't let me sleep for a second.

​A whole year. I’d have to survive a whole year in this godforsaken place where the sun couldn't even pierce the clouds. I just wanted to go home. Back to my cramped Tokyo room with the view of the monorail…

​With those miserable thoughts swirling in my head, I slipped into a deep, heavy slumber before I even knew it.

​“REEEEN! Rise and shine! Dinner’s almost ready!”

​The yell from downstairs shattered my sleep like a fire alarm. I bolted upright in bed, disoriented and panting. Pure blackness pressed against the windowpanes. Snatching my phone from the nightstand, the glowing screen read: 21:07.

​I’d been out for over three hours.

​Rubbing my stiff neck, I dragged myself down to the kitchen. The mouthwatering aroma of pan-fried pork hung thick in the air. My aunt, clad in a homey apron, was working a frying pan with intense focus. Seeing me, she tapped her forehead with a guilty grimace.

​“Sorry for waking you, sleepyhead! But we have a minor catastrophe on our hands. I could’ve sworn I had enough miso paste and soy sauce left, but we’re scraping the bottom of the tub! Without them, the soup is ruined.”

​She thrust a crumpled bill and a scrap of paper into my hand.

​“There’s a twenty-four-hour konbini just a five-minute walk from here. Take a left out the front door, then right at the intersection. Run over quick, will you? You can get some fresh air and scope out the neighborhood while you're at it!”

​“At nine at night?..” I mumbled. But one look at her pleading eyes broke my resolve. “Fine. I’ll be right back.”

​Stepping out onto the porch, a shiver rattled through me.

​At night, the town didn't just feel unwelcoming—it was downright unsettling. The fog had dropped so low and grown so thick that the sparse streetlights were reduced to sickly, dim halos, failing to illuminate the ground beyond three paces. There wasn’t a trace of sound: no hum of distant traffic, no barking dogs, not even the chirping of crickets. Just a dead, suffocating vacuum.

​Following my aunt’s messy directions, I took one turn, then another, nearly losing my bearings in the labyrinth of identical, mist-shrouded lanes. Finally, the bright, welcoming neon signage of a small convenience store cut through the gloom. A beacon of civilization in this grey void.

​The automatic sliding door opened with a mechanical chime.

​Inside, the store was deserted. Aisle after aisle of chips, instant ramen, and canned drinks were bathed in harsh, blinding fluorescent light. The sole occupant was the girl standing behind the cash register.

​At the chime of the bell, she didn't just look up—she jumped, as if hit by a live wire. Snapping into a rigid, military salute of a posture, she locked a pair of wide, unblinking eyes onto me.

​“W-Welcome… valued customer…” she barked out, her cadence stiff and unnaturally loud.

​I recoiled slightly.

​What is wrong with her? Is she on something?

​“Uh, evening…” I muttered uncertainly, ducking into the seasoning aisle as fast as I could.

​Grabbing the miso paste and soy sauce, I was about to head back to the counter when a bizarre noise drifted from the back of the store. A rustle. Followed by a dull, scratching sound, like fingernails dragging across linoleum.

​I cautiously peeked around the shelf of canned goods.

​The counter was completely empty. The girl was gone.

​Frowning, I stepped closer. The sound came again—and this time, it was accompanied by a low, guttural, threatening hiss.

​I took one more step and peered over the partition.

​My brain flat-out refused to process what I was looking at.

​The cashier was on all fours on the dirty floor. Her back was arched upward at an impossible, grotesque angle—the exact posture of a cat poised to pounce. Her fingers clawed into the baseboard, her shoulders raised, and her glare was locked with pure venom onto the shadowy gap beneath the floor safe. Baring teeth that looked disturbingly sharp, she let out a continuous, wet hiss:

​“Shhh-ssss-aaagh!”

​I froze, the tub of miso clutched uselessly in my hands.

​“Um… Excuse me… Are you alright?”

​The girl went rigid. Her neck jerked, and her head snapped toward me with sickening speed. Her eyes were wide discs, her pupils constricted into razor-thin slits. For one eternal second, we just stared at each other.

​Then, reality seemed to crash back into her skull.

​With a high-pitched squeal, she collapsed onto her knees, frantically smoothing down her uniform vest as a violent blush consumed her face.

​“A-Ah! Y-Yes! Everything is wonderful! Just fantastic! It’s… it’s workplace ergonomics! You see, my lower back! Sedentary shifts, spinal strain, poor circulation! Physical therapists recommend the Cat-Cow stretch for spinal decompression! Yes, absolutely, that’s exactly what it is!”

​She rattled it off with the speed of a machine gun, scrambling to her feet so fast she nearly knocked the barcode scanner off the counter. She practically ripped the items out of my hands.

​“Paste, sauce, need a bag? No? That’ll be six hundred and forty yen thank you for your patronage please come again have a great night!”

​Wordlessly, I set down the cash, took my change, and gathered the groceries. Without a single word, I turned on stiff, wooden legs and walked out into the night.

​The sliding doors sealed shut behind me.

​I stood on the curb, breathing heavily, staring blankly into the fog.

​What in the actual hell was that?! What kind of Cat-Cow stretch was that?! She was hissing at the damn dust bunnies under the safe!

​My head spun, thoughts tangling together in a knot. I took a step forward, wanting nothing more than to sprint back to safety, when someone slammed into me at full speed out of the grey haze.

​The impact caught me dead in the shoulder.

​“Ouch!” I yelled, losing my balance and hitting the pavement hard. Miraculously, the bottle of soy sauce survived in my grip.

​Whoever had crashed into me went down with a heavy thud right alongside me.

​“Ow-ow-ow… that hurt…” a girl’s voice whimpered.

​Shaking the dizziness from my head, I propped myself up on one elbow and looked at her. Sitting there was a girl roughly my age. She was wearing a high school uniform: a dark navy blazer bearing an unfamiliar crest on the chest. I recognized that crest immediately—it belonged to the school I was supposed to transfer into in two days.

​“Hey, are you alright? Watch where you’re—” I began, reaching out a hand to help her up.

​Then my gaze fell to the asphalt between us.

​Lying right there, bathed in the garish glow of the neon sign, was an object.

​Pale. Small.

​A human finger.

​A severed index finger, complete with a neatly manicured nail. Not a single drop of blood. The base ended in a clean, smooth cut.

​My heart skipped a beat. Time ground to an absolute halt. The breath solidified in my throat. I stared dumbly at the severed digit, watching my sanity unravel as cold terror flooded my veins.

​The girl followed my gaze. Her eyes blew wide with pure, naked panic.

​Without making a sound, her hand darted out like a striking viper. She scooped the finger off the asphalt, jammed it deep into her blazer pocket, scrambled to her feet, and blurted out in a single, terrified breath:

​“S-So-sorry-gotta-go-excuse-me!”

​She bolted, vanishing into the fog with such terrifying speed you’d think a pack of wolves was snapping at her heels.

​I was left sitting on the freezing ground.

​Alone. In the dead of night.

​A minute passed. Maybe two. My fingers went numb against the pavement.

​“No…” I rasped under my breath, pressing the heels of my hands into my temples. “No, no, no. I imagined it. It’s just stress. I’m just exhausted from the trip. It was… a keychain. A rubber prank prop from a gag shop. A Halloween novelty. God knows backwater towns are full of weirdos. First the cashier with her ‘ergonomics,’ now this lunatic with cheap movie props… I’m dreaming. Yeah. I’m still asleep on that damn bus.”

​Scrambling to my feet, I clutched the grocery bag like a lifeline and sprinted toward my aunt’s house.

​The house was warm, smelling of savory pork and safety. The sharp contrast with the horrors outside finally forced my pulse down to something resembling normal.

​“Oh, you’re back!” my aunt greeted me, taking the bag. “I was starting to think you got lost in the woods. Thanks, you saved dinner!”

​She tore into the packaging with a bright hum, splashing the sauce into the sizzling pan. I stood rooted in the middle of the kitchen, leaning heavily against the doorframe, burning a hole into the back of her head. My throat felt parched.

​“Auntie…” I called softly.

​“Hmm?” she replied without turning from the stove.

​“Tell me… does anything weird ever happen in this town? Have you ever noticed anything… unusual? Like, with the people here?”

​The ladle in her hand paused. She turned around slowly, looking at me with genuine, unmasked confusion.

​“Weird? What do you mean, Ren-kun? It’s just an ordinary country town. People here are simple, kind folk. Sure, the local kids act up sometimes out of boredom, but there's practically zero crime. Did something happen? Did someone mess with you?”

​She looked at me with such clear, innocent concern that I felt like a raving lunatic. What was I supposed to say? “Hey Auntie, the convenience store clerk was hissing like a feral cat, and a high school girl dropped a severed human finger and sprinted off into the fog”? They’d ship me straight to a psych ward before breakfast.

​“No…” I forced a weak smile and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Never mind. Just seeing things. The fog plays tricks on your eyes; my imagination got the better of me.”

​“Ah, happens all the time!” she laughed cheerfully. “The mist around here is something else; it takes some getting used to. Now sit down, food’s ready!”

​Dinner passed in surprising peace. The food was incredible, and the piping-hot soup helped thaw out the lingering dread clawing at my chest. We exchanged a few idle comments before I thanked her and trudged back upstairs.

​I didn't have the energy for a shower, let alone unpacking.

​Kicking off my jeans, I crawled under the heavy duvet and stared at the dark ceiling. Somewhere outside the glass, ancient pine branches scratched rhythmically against the eaves, rocked by the night wind.

​A cashier on all fours. A schoolgirl with a human finger. The bus driver’s sickening grin.

​“Tomorrow…” I mumbled into the pillow, my eyelids turning to lead. “I’ll deal with all of this… tomorrow…”

​And the darkness pulled me under.