No matter what kind of difficult situation one may find oneself in, some opening, some opportunity to fight one's way out, can always be found. What's most important is to hold fast to hope, to face the future with courage.
So read the message. There had been dozens like it placed about the grasslands leading up to this, the Forest of the Dead. He realized with a macabre sense of enlightenment that these were to be the final caveat for those who ventured into these woods, one last desperate plea to stall them from submitting themselves to Death's harsh embrace. Abandon All Hope, a sign that leads to Hell and Hell alone. The irony, of course, was not lost to him.
Kenji had heard of this place in tales spun by his grandmother all those years ago. Aokigahara, place of the dead, home of demons and death and dark omens. These legends, spoken in hushed tones next to a roaring fire, now whispered their way into his skull. He steadied himself, breathing in a lungful of fresh air. Nonsense. All nonsense. There was no curse, no ghosts, no demons, no signs. It was all superstition, of course, and superstition had a way of bringing out the worst in people. And the Hell that was Aokigahara would testify that all too well.
Kenji continued his devil's pilgrimage, leaving the sign behind as he ventured deeper into the forest. Down in the little town that was his home, the wind blew constantly in the shadow of the Mountain. Now, the world was still and silent. It was if someone had walked over his grave. Kenji shuddered at the thought, told himself that it was fine, that everything would be all right and the world would continue to turn, even after today's work was done and buried. But the silence, dear heaven, the silence was deafening. It was as if he had stumbled into a hollow chasm in the Universe, an forest-shaped oblivion between worlds. Nothing spoke, nothing moved, nothing made any sound at all. The legends said that the animals, even the small, treacherous insects, had abandoned this place long ago. Even the sunlight seemed apprehensive, its dim light down cast into the forest only to be carved to tattered pieces by the trees and their nothing-color leaves.
Kenji swallowed hard, dreading and anticipating the moment he had come here for, the pain in his stomach aching for the boon for which he had traveled so far and trusted so much hope. He had heard stories of curses and devils and Hells, sure, but also of others, people like him driven so far by desperation and poverty that they had come to this place seeking some small and damnable solace. A solace of wealth and reprieve. Too long had he been poor, too long had he toiled without reward and nothing at all to show for it.
For all the promise this place offered, there was no deny that deep in his heart, Kenji was afraid. He kept glancing around, always aware of the shadows in the corner of his eye. He half-expected a specter or boogeyman to come sprinting towards him. He could almost – literally and figuratively – feel the harsh breathing of Death chilling down his spine like icy water.
Kenji lost his footing, spilling himself onto the leaf-covered ground. They cracked underneath him, shattering the quiet dim that had settled over the forest eternities ago. Kenji sighed, pulling himself up and –
Grey, ragged skin stretched over the skull like parchment. Dark blue shirt, khaki pants, sandals. The rope around its neck was a disturbingly crimson red. The branch that had bore the rope had given up its ghost long ago, leaving the body to slump down to the ground against the base of the tree, its head snapped over at an awkward angle. It wasn't like in the movies, when the dramatic music plays and the hero gasps in horror at the atrocity before him. The corpse was nothing more than a corpse, and the plainness of it disturbed him more than zombies or vampires ever could. It simply was, needing nothing more than its presence to corrupt and disturb.
Kenji rose to his feet, took in a heavy breath. This is what he had come for, yes? This was his bounty, his mission, his treasure. So why be afraid? Why fight the destiny he had chosen when it stood there, so broken and destroyed, just waiting to be snatched up? An icy chill cooled his stomach as he approached the body. The closer he got, the more he wished he had stayed away from Aokigahra, this place called the Sea of Trees, a forest of death and pain and regret.
Kenji bent down next to the body, getting down on his haunches as he came face-to-face with the suffering dead. The corpse faced downwards, its lifeless eyes forever gazing into the earth. Kenji swallowed hard, said a small, silent prayer, and got to work.
He checked the front pockets first, finding nothing more than a cell phone and a pair of keys. Tentatively, he reached around, removing out the dead man's wallet. He opened it up, finding two five-hundred yen coins and pocketing them. There was a photo ID on the man's driver's license. Once upon a time, the rotting shell before him had been a handsome, if somewhat sickly-looking young man with pale skin and long, curly hair. He glazed over the name; there were some things that we better left unknown. Kenji folded the wallet back up and returned it to the man's back pocket.
He stood up and backed away from the corpse as if it were a jack-in-the-box ready to spring to life. An almost sickening thrill rushed within him. He had done it. That wasn't so hard now, was it Kenji? And there was so much more to do. A thousand yen was a start, nothing more. He continued on into the forest, the coins heavy in his pocket. Silence held its empire over the forest.
It was almost seven minutes before he came upon another body. This one was of a woman, wearing gray shorts and a tank top. Unlike that of the man, her eyes were closed, blinded to the thief that had wandered into her open grave. Her face was rotted, more than the man but still discernible. She was decayed, but still recognizable as something that had once been human. A knife lay next to her, still sharp and gleaming in the small sunlight. The woman had cut her wrists and simply sat here, waiting for death. There was an expression that almost bordered upon peace written across her face. Like all the others here, this woman had died of her own hand. She three-hundred yen on her, all in various kinds of coin. It wasn't much, but money was money, wasn't it? There was no wallet, only a cell phone now rusted and decayed.
He left the body behind as he journeyed further into the woods. It was getting easier now, the guilt slowly lifting off his head. The dead were dead, and he was alive, right? It only made sense that he should gather the remains of their shattered lives so that he could avoid their hellish fate. That made sense, didn't it. The circle of life, a feeble but worthwhile redemption for the dead beyond their passing.
Kenji continued on for three more hours, looting the bodies of the suicides. They had all come to this forest seeking rest, and rest they did. This place was a magnet for agony, attracting the broken and hopeless to their final resting place. Aokigahara, the Forest of Trees and Grave of the Hopeless. Legend made their way into the truth, and truth into the legend. This place was cursed, a dark nowhere between Earth and Hell. That's what the stories said, and even now, Kenji was inclined to believe it. They're was something dark at work here, something sinister. But it did not stop him, did not hinder him. He was desperate, and any money was good money.
He continued on his pilgrimage, looting the bodies of the dead as he went. The further he went and the fatter his pockets became, the more the act itself seemed to go numb. One dead, two dead, three dead, four, all gone by their own hand. Most had hung themselves, others had cut their wrists or necks or even their ankles. But there were some that he could find nothing physically wrong with. Had they come here, dejected and destroyed, only to lay down and let their bodies die naturally, to starve themselves of water and food? It was a possibility, of course, and the only sensible possibility. But the old stories crept back into his head, haunting him in his wake.
As the sun was making its descent and the sky was turning a twilit tingle of rust, Kenji came upon what would be the last corpse he would ever loot. He had about ten-thousand yen on him now. It was decent money, sure, but not quite what he had been hoping for when he set out here. He had looted what, six, seven, eight...
God, he had lost count, hadn't he? He swallowed hard, approaching the last corpse and silently promising himself that this would be it, and as soon as he was done here, would would forsake this damned forest and be done with it, for now and all time.
The last body was lying on its back, arms and legs splayed in a Christ-like spread-eagle. It's clothes were indistinguishable, rotted to plainness by time and decay. It was lying in a small clearing, undisturbed by fallen leaves or branches, as if it had been left undisturbed in the time since its passing. Kenji knelt down next to the body, ready to loot and finish his task. The corpse gripped a revolver in its left hand; there was no bullet hole, curiously enough.
Kenji reached into the front pockets. Nothing, not even some loose change. He sighed with frustration, and pocketed the gun. Who knew? It could be worth something. He reached his hands up under the naked rotting carcass. He flipped it over, intending to check the back pockets for –
Bright, crystalline, shining in the light of the falling sun, the diamond shone at him like heavenly splendor reaching down into the Inferno. He blinked, unsure if what he was seeing was real of a fabrication of the Forest of the Dead. Licking his lips, he reached down and touched it, to feel –
It was real. Yes, yes, it was real! He could touch it! He could actually touch it! But was it really real? It could be a fake, a knockoff cheaper than the dirt beneath it. But what if it –
Wait. This person, this suicide, had died here with this thing in its possession. Whatever this thing once was, it had blown its brains out to escape...something. Was this jewel a part of it, a conspirator in his death? They could be cursed, like the stories his –
No. There were no curses, no ill fates or magic jinxes. There was only his own luck, and he would make his own destiny. He discarded most of the yen he had found on the other bodies, replacing them with his new treasure. Now he would leave, he would go back to the village, yes, and he would never be poor again. No more Kenji the dishwasher, no more Kenji the workman, Kenji the peon, Kenji the fool. He had left a pauper, but would return a king.
He turned to leave. He had used the mountain to navigate his way through the Forest, making sure he didn't get lost in the graveyard of suicide. He followed the trail back, leaving the diamond's owner behind him, a small signpost on his journey to wealth and fortune.
Twilight fell over Aokigahara, but for Kenji, all he could see was the bright light at the end of the tunnel. He walked, almost with a bounce in his step, the treasure jiggling around in his pocket. He was excited, almost ecstatic. When he had come here, he had been timid, afraid. But that was all gone now, replaced by joy and shock at what his mission had accomplished.
He followed his own trail for what felt like an eternity, the twilight giving way to night. Despite the weight of the treasure in his pocket, the spring slowly began to go out of his steps, which became quick, nervous steps as a blanket of darkness covered the sky. He was getting afraid now, wanting nothing more to be done with this place so that he could return home with his bountiful –
A sound, almost like a whisper. Not a thing in his head, not the song of a distant bird. It was a sound, a complete and audible sound. And it was a voice.
No, it couldn't be. It couldn't possibly be...
He set off again, this time faster than before. He didn't even know what direction he was going in now, as long as he was going somewhere, as long as he was moving further and further away. The sooner he was out of the Forest, the sooner he could rest. Today was the first day of the rest of his life, after all, yes, that's what he kept telling himself. Tomorrow would be a new day, and the horrors of Aokigahara would be behind him, a painful memory among painful memories.
There it was again! This time more real, more audible. There was no denying it now, no hiding it away. This was a voice, an honest-to-heaven voice. He was not alone in this Sea of Trees. A hiker, another thief perhaps? Or a lunatic who roamed the woods, feasting upon the flesh of the dead like it was caramel candy? He swallowed hard at the thought.
Something touched his shoulder. He jumped, yelping like a puppy. It was just a leaf, fallen from its limb. He backed away from it nonetheless, breathing hard. His eyes darted in all directions, scanning the forest around him for any sign of life. Nothing. Just the endless ocean of foliage and the sound of his own beating heart.
It was nothing. Just a fairy tale, just a fairy tale.
“I was a doctor once.”
The words crawled into his skull. Like the body, there was nothing dramatic about the words, no flair or style or accompanying music. Just two words, two dull, dull words so simple they could tear down his wall and destroy his feeble sanity.
He turned around, slowly as if dreading what he would see. A woman stood under the moonlight, her clothes flayed and worn and her skin leathery, peeled like one of the walking dead returned to haunt the living. Her eyes shone in the pale light of the full moon. Head lopped to the side, broken. Once upon a time, she may have been beautiful, but that day was passed and this was the night.
“I had everything once. A husband. A child. A family. Life and food and breath. But then I lost it all. Disease took my baby and the bottle took my love. With all my medicine and all my cures and all my cheap talk, there was nothing I could do. I couldn't save them, I couldn't do anything. I sat every night, watching their graves, wanting them, loving them, hating them for deserting me. I came here, hoping to find them. All I wanted was my family. But I can never see them, no, they're not mine to see. The Forest holds me now, Kenji Nokumora. It holds me here, and it will hold you too!”
Kenji turned, and ran. He didn't care where, he didn't care how far or how high or how low. His thoughts turned to vapor, his logic to dust. There was nothing but death now. He prayed that he was insane, that his was all his mind playing tricks on him.
In his head, the old words of his grandmother played in his head, over and over again like a broken record. Aokigahara, the Forest of the Dead, Grave of the Lost, the Silent Wood. They were all stories, just stories, fabrications spun by the old to frighten the young.
Something caught on his jacket, and he fell backwards. He hit the ground, and before he could scramble to his feet, his vision was filled the visage of a man, a noose tied round his neck. He was fresh, his eyes still intact and his skin barely grayed. He looked down at Kenji, a half-grin on his face.
“I never knew a soul. The loneliness. The despair, the hatred, the self-loathing. My job was the worst. Everyone was always watching me, judging me. My friends, no, my friends were the worst. They told me to stop the violence, the cutting, laughs. But I laughed anyway, and I'm still laughing. I came here, found my real friends. And now, we can all laugh and weep together. You'll be my friend, soon. And we'll laugh. Oh, we'll laugh!”
“No!” yelled Kenji, muddling away on his stomach, his haunches, his feet. He ran, on the verge of tears now, through the black woods of Aokigahara.
There was no time, no time at all. The diamond bounced around in his pocket, though he barely remembered it was there. All around him voices echoed around him, snatches and snippets of stories reaching him through the darkness. Above him, a body fell from the sky, stopped dead by the rope around its neck. The thing was still alive, crying bloody tears as a cry escaped its lips. All around him this repeated, twisted figures descending from above only to snap in place by the ropes that held them. Gunshots, screaming, weeping, all orchestrated around him, an audience of one. The stories crawled into his ears over the bedlam, telling him stories of pain, of sorrow, of agony, of death, and of eternal damnation here in the Sea of Trees.
Kenji halted to a stop, cupping his hands over his eyes and shutting his eyes as tight as he could. In his gasping breaths, he sang an old lullaby, something to soothe the children and ease them to sleep. It would all stop, it would have to stop, he couldn't take it anymore. They were around him now, he could feel it. He was surrounded by the broken, the hopeless, all here to tear him asunder for his sins.
A thought occurred to him. Yes! It was his hope! His only hope, his only chance. He opened his eyes, reached into his pocket and retrieved the diamond. He threw it onto the ground, where it landed sharp-side up, staring into the black abyss that was the sky. He yanked out the money next, scattering it all around him.
“I give it up!” he yelled. He looked around. He was in a small clearing, and in the distance he could see the shapes moving about the forest. It was them. The dead, the suicides, the agonies. He breathed heavily, reaching his hands up in surrender. “I don't want it! Please, just let me leave. Just let me leave...Just let me leave...Please, just let me leave.”
The dead clamored all around him, smiling in the darkness.
“Come with us, Kenji Nokumora,” said one, or all. “Dance with here. Dance with us here, under trees. We will dance together, laugh together, weep together.”
He spun around in all directions, looking for a way out, a way home to his dinky little apartment in his dinky little town. Tears ran down his face. He wanted to go home, now more than ever. To be warm, to be fed, to be alive.
The gun. Of course! The gun! He reached into his pocket. This is what they want! This is their judgment, their punishment. He pointed the gun to his head, anything to be rid of them anything to be free, anything –
He tripped, and fell backwards to the ground. He cried, tears streaming down his face. They were coming for him now, yes, coming to kill him and make him hurt and make him bleed. The vengeful dead come to claim the living for their own. He tried to pull the gun to his head, but couldn't. Something was hindering him. Of course, they didn't want him to commit suicide. They wanted him for themselves. They wanted their justice.
He lay there, sprawled on the ground, a child weeping in the woods. All around him he could hear the voices of the damned, their echoes and stories pouring into his head. They never stopped, never ceased their narratives of heartbreak and bitter ends. It went on like this, hours on end, the tales spilling and spilling and spilling. The night wore on, the seconds moving like eternities.
Kenji awoke, in the light of the morning, his head buried in the ground. His face was sweaty, his body filthy and gross. Slowly, he rose to his feet.
Was it over? A dream, a nightmare brought about the old stories? He wasn't sure. Maybe it was real. Maybe it was all real. But he had made it, hadn't he. He was alive. And, for once, that felt greater than treasure in the world.
He was still in the clearing, and the dead were nowhere to be seen. On the ground was the scattered yen that he had offered to them in exchange for his life. The money was rotted, unusable, worthless.
He looked down, and saw his body lying on the ground before him. He was small, even in death, the gun gripped in his hand. But it wasn't the gun, no. It was the diamond, its sharp point pierced through his heart. Aokigahara had claimed him for its own, and now he would stay here, and laugh, and dance, weep with the rest of them now and forever.
The thing that was once Kenji Nokumora turned, and walked deeper into the forest. Silence had fallen, and would remain for all time, here in the Sea of Trees.
Postscript: Aokigahara is a real place. With over 80 reported fatalities a year, it is the second most popular suicide location in the world. Information on this disturbing place can be found with a simple internet search. While this may sound incredibly preachy, suicide is a real issue and should be treated as such. If anyone is offended or feels that this issue has been exploited in any way in this story, then please tell me and I will remove the story straightaway.
Just saying. ^_^
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