Chapter I

The gentle aroma of incense wafts through the corridors, reminiscent of the rituals performed to honor ancestors. Silence envelops the hallways where children usually play, leaving behind an aura of tranquility that feels almost reverential.

In the heart of Tokyo, amidst the vibrant cityscape, I, Sato Ayato, serve as the caretaker of the Agatsuma Apartments. 

"It's that time of the year again huh..."

"Obon."

Each year, as this season approaches, I can sense a subtle shift in the building's aura. 

The rooftop, usually a place for stargazing or quiet contemplation, has taken on a reputation of an inadvertent stage for these poignant departures.

(Flashback)
“Don’t look at the God of Death, look at me!”
(End of flashback)

My heart sank with the burden of the untimely departure that I had failed to prevent, the echoes of the event now reverberating through the otherwise hushed halls.

"How did I missed the part where he is just shouting there himself?"

As I continued my rounds, a mix of emotions enveloped me—anxiety, regret, and a deep-seated sense of helplessness.

Then suddenly a thunderous voice echoed from the rooftop. It pierced through the serenity of the building. 

Alarmed and propelled by a sense of urgency, I abandoned my tasks and bolted towards the stairwell leading to the rooftop.

Reaching the top, I pushed open the door to the rooftop. The sight that greeted me was familliar—a lone figure stood at the edge, his silhouette carved against the evening sky. 

Tears streamed down his face, a stark contrast to the quiet and desolate rooftop. His voice trembled with anguish and desperation, as if arguing with an invisible presence. 

"Stop! I can help you. I'm here!", I desperately shouted. 

"It's you..."

"You saw me here last year at the exact same day."

"What do you mean?"

"You didn't help me! It's your fault! All of it!"

He grabbed my shirt as he is shouting and I tried to defend myself by pushing him away. 

"Stop it! I don't know what you are talking about. I'm here to help you."

I extended a hand, my voice offering solace, attempting to bridge the emotional chasm that seemed to separate us. But as our eyes met, his tears continued to flow, his anguished expression now softened, a retreat from the fervor of the moment before.

In that moment, as he continued to weep, the resounding roar of fireworks pierced the calm evening air, signaling the commencement of the Obon festival celebrations.

"You see those fireworks? Isn't beautiful?"

My focus on the man in emotional distress was abruptly disrupted. 

When I turned my attention back towards the man, a chill ran down my spine. His silhouette was no longer visible against the skyline. The place where he once stood, in the midst of turmoil, was now hauntingly empty.

In that brief moment when my attention wavered, the man had made his irreversible decision.

Tears cascading down my cheeks, an overwhelming sense of anguish and bewilderment washed over me. In the midst of the celebratory fireworks, I found myself grappling with an unanswerable question—a profound sense of confusion and despair.

"For decades, I had faithfully served this aging building, attending to its needs, and fostering a sense of community among its inhabitants."

Yet, the tragic sequence of events that transpired, the inexplicable chain of sorrow and loss, left me questioning the cruel twist of fate that had chosen this place, my sanctuary of service, as the stage for such tragic occurrences.

I stood on the rooftop of the Agatsuma Apartments, found myself succumbing to the weight of the unexplained, stepping off the edge and into the infinite unknown.

In that heart-wrenching moment, amidst the stillness of the night and the continued crackling of the fireworks, I joined the tragic narrative that had unfolded in the Agatsuma Apartments, my departure becoming an indelible part of the haunting legacy that had befallen this place during the Obon season.

With the first light of day, the initial stirrings of the waking city began to color the surroundings. Residents cautiously emerged from their apartments, their expressions carrying a mix of curiosity and unease, lingering in the wake of the tragic events that had transpired during the night.

However, as the community slowly gathered outside the building, only one body was discovered near the structure. It was the caretaker, Sato Ayato, the man who had served the Agatsuma Apartments with dedication and care for decades.

It’s said there are two types of people: those ruled by the desire for life—Eros and those ruled by the desire for death—Thanatos. 

Most of the people in the world are the former, but the caretaker was unquestionably the latter.

In the intricate fabric of myths and folklore, the embodiment of death is often personified, taking on various forms, not solely restricted to an individual but occasionally represented as an object, an enigmatic and symbolic entity.

Stories around the community started to intensify...

The building itself, akin to the god of death, might represent a convergence of various lives, stories, and experiences. It becomes a vessel that hosts the ebb and flow of existence—a physical manifestation of the cycle of life, where people come and go, marking the transient nature of our mortal journey.

Later that morning, a sign was posted at the building

(Agatsuma Apartments Hiring: Caretaker)