"Who first fell in love with the moon" - (10)

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No matter how bizarre or outlandish a ghost story may be, it is ultimately just a story fabricated from people's mouths, and in the process of being passed down, it is added to and modified by all sorts of people. It starts from a small idea, with rough and plain content as its foundation, and as people imagine, desire, and fear it, seemingly plausible elements are constantly added, making the plot fuller and more unique, and then it gains vitality and survives through word of mouth.
Yes, it's just a story. Even if it's been mistakenly incorporated with mysterious and bizarre elements, the essence of ghost stories is still just a story.
And I, the "me" of today, am about to become the male protagonist of the story.
As agreed with Akisaka, I will immerse myself in the legends of ghost stories in the way they are passed down, and then she will analyze and decipher them.
It feels like the foot soldiers on the front lines of an ancient battlefield, with samurai following behind, waiting for the low-ranking soldiers to absorb the first wave of arrows and spears, and then, after the chaos in front, to find an opening, to send their elite troops to charge into the enemy ranks and carry out a satisfying massacre.
No matter how you look at it, this sounds like a very tragic thing.
However, if the "warrior in charge" behind them were not fierce and menacing men, but rather charming and adorable young girls, it wouldn't seem so unacceptable.
Moreover, compared to the foot soldiers who were conscripted from the fields, resolving the school incident was already of great importance to me, so there was even less reason for me to complain.
I strolled around the campus at a leisurely pace, aimlessly.
Among the seven incredible ghost stories, which seem unrelated, there is one key point that is triggered in an environment where no one else is around.
This is easy to understand. After all, as a story, in addition to its horror, it must also add enough realism as a seasoning, and on top of that, it must have a considerable amount of ambiguity as a buffer. Otherwise, if a perfectly good person is murdered in full view of everyone, it loses the kind of eerie, intangible chill that is like being enveloped in mist, but which, upon reflection, leaves a deep, lingering terror, it becomes the naked, brutal, and bloody tone of a chainsaw killer.
During this time period, the club's classrooms are still full of people, and the students coming and going from time to time leave little room for most of the ghost stories to unfold on their own.
So the only thing we can explore right now is the first ghost story. That is, the strange maze/stairs/warehouse.
The legend is still too ambiguous. There is no fixed time or place. Or to put it another way, it can be triggered in any corner of the school.
The legend is that it was triggered in a very idealistic way by some unlucky student who noticed which step he had reached.
So I chose to wander around the area near the warehouse and laboratory building, which were located in a corner.
Then I started to recall the ghost stories that Akesaka had told me. In fact, our school has a very long history. It is said that the earliest school building was just a low bungalow. At that time, the area that would become the school district was still farmland.
The earliest version of the first legend's ghost story is closer to the folk tales of spirits disappearing from the countryside.
It was about a playful student who went missing while playing hide-and-seek in the fields where rice paddies were still growing thick. The adults searched frantically but couldn't find him. A few days later, the missing student returned. Apparently, he had gotten lost on a completely unfamiliar road and, after walking for a long time, when he was hungry and thirsty, he met a kind person dressed in very old-fashioned clothes. The person then gave him directions and helped him get back.
It's very mundane, with absolutely no twists or turns. There's no reason or horror in the story, only a constantly winding road.
Oh, speaking of which, the reason Akesaka suggested I walk here, besides the fact that it's sparsely populated and almost deserted after school, was for another reason—this area was the last to be developed by the school. If we're talking about matching the first, original version, this might be the most suitable location—the site where the fields used to be.
Akisaka explained: "Although the versions of ghost stories are constantly being updated, ghost stories, which are inherently fictional, usually appear in the form of the version that is most widely circulated among the people. However, stories that have been passed down are still stories. As versions that have been discarded like shed skins in the past, there may still be faint remnants that have been passed down to the present."
Will my fate be to temporarily step from reality onto the strange path of the original version, or will it, as the latest ghost story says, lead me into a dark and gloomy warehouse?
I have no idea?!
Maybe nothing will happen.
I suddenly stopped in my tracks, because I had already silently counted to 660. According to the latest version circulating, the 666th step would be a prerequisite for triggering the ghost story.
one……
This is precisely the ambiguity of the ghost story. Over the years since the school was founded, so many students have come and gone. Even if someone only had a sudden urge to do it, they might count to 666 steps. If it were guaranteed to trigger, then this school would have been plagued by frequent disappearances long ago.
But the reason it is a strange tale told by students with a deliberately mysterious air, rather than a terrifying legend that makes people tremble with fear, is precisely because of that strange feeling of distance—a feeling that seems both close at hand and far away.
But I came here today specifically to chase after it.
I took a deep breath, and after a moment I started walking again, taking steps forward at a pace that was almost the same.
The road in front of us was a narrow path divided by a green belt. The streetlights, too far away, could only cast dappled, uneven light through the well-grown leaves. It wasn't pitch black, but the distance was still quite significant.
The further you go, the further you are out of the streetlights' illumination range.
The trees in front were neatly arranged in two rows, like attentive waiters welcoming guests. However, this scene, which was commonplace during the day, took on a completely different feel after being shrouded in darkness at night.
My heart skipped a beat for no reason. No matter how much I encouraged myself and gave myself optimistic advice, I suddenly felt a heavy pressure in my heart.
However, I did not forcefully suppress this emotion, nor did I even try to take out my phone to add even a little bit of light.
The reason is simple. Although Akesaka didn't explicitly say it, it can be inferred from her words that ghost stories born from the students' fear and curiosity are typical folk tales that combine various elements. They are also eerie stories imbued with the subconscious of the masses. Humans who carry an aura of "suspicion and terror," like the reckless protagonists in these stories, are the best characters to be embedded in "ghost stories."
I must be prepared to play "this kind of role".
I resisted the urge to turn on any lights and kept walking steadily, step by step, deeper into the green belt.
The cicadas chirped in the sweltering trees, at least bringing a familiar sense of comfort. But the further you went in, the more inexplicable the chirping and swaying of insects seemed to emanate from the bushes on both sides and the branches of the roadside.
These sounds certainly wouldn't scare a grown man like me into turning and running away; I kept walking.
Night had fallen... The ground beneath our feet was completely dark. The area too far inward was no longer within the reach of the distant streetlights. Only the faint, scattered light could barely discern the outline of the bushes that encircled the path.
There was a long strip of shrubs, neatly trimmed by the school janitor. They were the most commonplace things during the day, things that wouldn't even catch my eye, but in the darkness, they seemed to be tinged with a layer of indistinct blackness. As the sound of my shoes and the stone slabs became clearer, everything was gradually becoming unfamiliar.
Yes... I'm not familiar with the green belt at night. Even after studying at this school for so many years, I have no interest or inclination to enjoy a nighttime stroll along the forest trails.
This feeling is truly a first for me.
The campus is familiar, but I've never truly been familiar with this place at every moment.
Strange insects seemed to be buzzing in the bushes, and every now and then small animals would hear my footsteps and be startled, causing the branches to rustle.
Time, invisible and intangible, has begun to gradually reveal a corner of its true nature.
Little by little, I blended into the silhouette of the shadows of these unfamiliar bushes. The stark contrast between day and night made me realize that the campus, which I used to recognize with my eyes closed, was gradually blurring in shape, as if it were about to become a form that even I could not recognize.
The tension in my heart built up, and my steps began to falter.
The pace of progress slowed down, becoming sluggish due to inner hesitation.
It felt like a night breeze was blowing. Even though it wasn't cold, I hunched my shoulders and hugged my arms to my chest as if I were afraid of the cold, looking around anxiously.
Naturally, all that could be seen was the outline of a shadow. But retreating was impossible.
The promise I made to Akesaka is far more important than this fear. Besides, no matter how much things change, this will always be my school.
etc……
strangeness!?
I stopped.
As far as I remember, one of the reasons it was so far from the streetlights was because it was a dead end.
Although it wasn't that there was absolutely no way out, since the path ahead led to an abandoned building that was blocked by a wall, there was no need to bother preparing lighting for that area. As I recall, that distance was only about thirty or fifty meters.
I've been walking for about five minutes, which is quite a distance for a normal student's stride.
But it seemed like there was still a road ahead, and we didn't encounter the wall we expected at all.
"I ran into him?" It was hard to say whether it was good or bad. My first thought was to take out my phone and call Akisaka.
"Moshi moshi..." Oh, it's not so bad. The call went through normally, and Akisaka answered the phone normally. There was no signal loss, and there were no ghostly screams or anything like that.
The only drawback is the extremely poor signal here, with a constant intermittent static when you speak. However, it's a very common type of static, and to call it paranormal would be a stretch.
As I explained my deductions to Akisaka, I touched my chest. There, I saw the talisman Akisaka had placed there. According to Akisaka, it should heat up when encountering ghosts or monsters, and be able to repel evil attacks. Moreover, the degree of heat would vary depending on the strength of the opponent.
It feels slightly warm now, like the heat that comes from using a cell phone for a long time. The "mark" that Akira drew on my arm seems to be holding up well...
I breathed a sigh of relief. Although I came with the worst in mind, it would be great if I could get through this safely.
Five minutes later...
Ten minutes later...
I remained standing in the same spot, without encountering a single person.
The talisman on his chest continued to radiate a slight warmth, probably still symbolizing safety.
My phone rang; it was Akira's number.

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"Who first fell in love with the moon" - (10)

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