Every year when Obon comes around, I still end up remembering what happened back then.

It was in the early Heisei era, back when I was still in elementary school. During Obon, our entire extended family would gather at my grandparents' place in the Chubu region like clockwork, and it was a tradition for everyone to party and make a big ruckus together.

My grandfather had three sons, making up the families of the eldest son, the second son, and the youngest son. I'm the only son of the second brother. The eldest brother's family had A, who was in seventh grade, and B, who was in second grade, while the youngest brother's family had a fourth-grade daughter, C. At first us kids were shy, but being kids, as soon as someone showed a bit of friendliness, we all opened up and became fast friends. By this year, we were close enough to chat casually right off the bat.

"How've you been?"

A hand landed on my shoulder, and when I turned around, A stood there looking a bit more mature, which caught me off guard. But when I saw B bashfully hiding behind him, I was able to put on a smile right away. Maybe it was because becoming a middle schooler gives you a slightly more grown-up face—for a split second when I looked at A, I thought he was some lookalike stranger.

"Long time no see, Big Brother A. You too, B."

As us boys caught up with each other, C was standing a little ways off, clinging to her mom and peeking over at us. At first I tilted my head, wondering what was up, but after C's mother smiled shyly and told her, "Go on over," C came trotting over. That's when I remembered, "Oh right, C's always been a bit shy," and called out to her right before she reached us.

"Hey, C, long time no see."

"...H-Hey, long time no see."

And so the four of us cousins gathered together. While the adults chatted in the living room, us kids ran around exploring our grandparents' house by ourselves.

After lunch, we were lying around in the ten-tatami-plus Buddhist altar room where the whole family had eaten together. Falling asleep right after getting full was proof I was still a kid, but seeing B and C nodding off too gave me peace of mind, so I closed my eyes.

But then, my eyes snapped open when A suddenly shook my shoulder.

"What is it?"

"Wake up, you guys."

While I was rubbing my sleepy eyes, A didn't answer my question and went ahead and shook B and C awake too. Patting B on the head as he let out a huge yawn, A looked back at me.

"Let's go out for a bit."

He wore a mischievous grin that even a kid could tell meant trouble.

My grandparents' house was surrounded almost entirely by farm fields, spaced out so far that the nearest neighbor was five houses away. It was deep countryside—the front road ran alongside a cliff with a stream flowing down below, carved into the side of a basin, and behind the house was a mountain.

Because of that, whenever us kids played, our options were pretty much limited to playing in the river or catching bugs on the mountain.

This time, though, after waking us up, A dragged us out, saying he wanted to go to a mountain a bit further away. I was weak against the summer heat, so I would have preferred playing in the river, but for some reason A was stubborn about the mountain and refused to back down. So, led by A, we ended up going for a hike as post-lunch exercise.

A 20-minute walk from Grandpa's house. Where we arrived was past a side road off the main street, beyond a cluster of dilapidated barn-like shacks: a small mountain. It didn't feel very tall, but that was probably because we were practically inside the mountains already. After taking in the view for a moment, we stepped onto the thick layer of bone-dry fallen leaves and headed up the mountain path.

After enjoying the climb for a while, I tried to ask A why he had brought us here, but his response was curt.

"What's up here?"

"Just come on, you'll see."

Walking in the lead, A occasionally cleared spiderwebs with a stick he'd picked up that looked like a wooden sword, pressing relentlessly deeper into the woods.

Before long, B couldn't keep up with A's pace and whimpered, "Bro, I'm tired," crouching right there on the spot. With B whining, C crouched down too, giving me a look that practically begged to go home.

"Man, you guys have zero stamina."

A looked down at us from slightly higher up the trail, resting his stick over his shoulder. I couldn't keep up with A's pace either, so I suggested, "Let's go a little slower."

A stroked his chin thoughtfully, swept aside the fallen leaves at his feet, and crouched down. Then, as soon as he sat down, he began to speak in a calm, measured voice.

"Alright, perfect timing. I'll tell you guys."

A spoke in a slow, lingering tone like a professional ghost story teller, but honestly, we thought walking would be way better than sitting around talking in a place full of bugs. But A was oblivious to how we felt and just went on talking in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Actually, my dad told me this, but apparently this mountain used to be a 'Granny Dump'—Ubasuteyama."

"Granny...?"

C repeated the word hesitantly before giving up and tilting her head in confusion.

A repeated it clearly—"Ubasuteyama"—and continued.

"Apparently, back when my dad was about your age, people who couldn't take care of their elderly parents would abandon them deep in these mountains. My dad said there were even people around him who did it, so doesn't that sound legit?"

As a kid back then, I didn't fully grasp what Ubasuteyama meant, but when I looked it up later, it left a terrible taste in my mouth because of how cruel it was.

At the time, though, hearing A's story just made me think, "So what?" without getting what he was driving at. Then A said, "I mean, if it's real, wouldn't something haunt this place? There might even be bones," and I finally understood—he just wanted to drag us along on a treasure hunt, or rather, an exploration.

"Anyway, let's climb to the top and see if we can find something."

With that, A stood up and started walking again, looking like the only one having any fun.

Meanwhile, even though we thought it was a pain, we were hit by the anxiety that we wouldn't be able to get back without the oldest boy, A, around. So we hurriedly fell into line behind him and kept walking.

Though we were complaining on the inside, whenever we spotted rare birds or insects along the way, we'd make a fuss, shouting things like "Woah, what's that?!" or "There's a giant stag beetle!" Every time, A would explain what kind of insect it was and how it lived, just like a bug expert. In a way, I was even thinking of making this my summer vacation research project.

Plus, because the canopy was covered by massive trees and dense leaves, the entire area was shaded like a summer retreat. Free from the summer heat to some extent, I felt halfway grateful to A for giving us a worthwhile experience.

But those carefree thoughts were instantly shattered by a single sentence from B.

"Hey, who's that person?"

Suddenly, B pointed toward the two o'clock direction up ahead and said that. I froze at the word "who," while A turned toward where B was pointing with a face that said, "What are you talking about, we're in the middle of a mountain."

However, there was nothing resembling a human figure in that direction, so we concluded B had just misseen things and started walking again.

But a little while later, B pointed in another random direction and said, "Look, there's a person over there," causing us to stop every single time and search for the figure B was talking about.

Looking around a full 360 degrees, there wasn't a single soul in sight, but I felt a sharp, severe chill piercing me from all directions, leaving me tight-lipped and unable to move.

"B, did you really see someone?"

"I'm not lying!"

Thinking he was being dragged into repeated lies, A questioned B in a slightly angry tone.

But B, who was usually timid and obedient, insisted with teary eyes and a fierce stance that he wasn't lying this time. Gradually, both A and I fell silent, our brows furrowed.

Meanwhile, looking at C, she was standing frozen, staring blankly at a single spot. I stepped up beside her and asked, "Is something wrong?" looking in the same direction. Beyond was just the same ordinary thicket as everywhere else, but for a split second, I saw a black shadow like a crow cross by. The color was that of a crow, but even in that brief moment, it looked larger than me—maybe around the size of middle-schooler A.

Seeing that, I realized that black shadow might be the "someone" B had seen, and I decided to tell A right away.

"A, over there... something moved."

"For real?"

As soon as I reported it, A stepped up beside me quickly and stared in the direction I pointed. Right then, we saw a black shadow slide swiftly between the trees once again.

Seeing it, A let out a shout of near-ecstasy: "Woaaaaah!" I patted B on the head and said, "There really was someone." But B just sucked his thumb, looking down sullenly, and muttered in a voice barely audible, "There's one over there too."

I barely caught his words and let out a soft "Huh?", but before I could process it, A slapped me hard on the shoulder, cutting me off: "There! There! There!" Struck by a middle schooler's strength, I protested, "Ow!", but A ignored me, forcefully pulling my shoulder to make me turn in the same direction. Looking where A forced me to look, several hundred meters away, standing still between the trees, was a jet-black silhouette that looked like a person.

Whether that silhouette knew we were watching or not, it began to dance in small, twitchy movements.

Seeing that, we couldn't help but chuckle.

Still, I wondered why it looked so dark despite it being daytime. Or rather, why its entire body was pitch-black. I thought even in the shade, nobody could look that black during the day, but seeing its cheerful dance made all those doubts feel insignificant.

"Maybe it's a local? Should we call out?"

A asked me what to do with a half-smile, but I thought it was better not to call out to an adult we didn't know. Even if it was our grandfather's hometown, if they were some kind of creep, us kids would be helpless if attacked. But I couldn't voice such a negative opinion in the face of A's unhideable curiosity, so I gave a cowardly answer: "Up to you."

Then A took a deep breath,

"What are you doing over there?!"

...and actually shouted out to it.

Having him yell right next to us, C and I made sour faces and covered our ears.

Then, as if the voice had reached it, the figure's movements stopped dead, and even from a distance, we could tell it was staring right at us.

"Oh, it noticed us."

"It's looking this way."

Once the figure looked at us, we surrendered ourselves to the quiet flow of time, swallowing our saliva. Neither side moved; we both just stood there motionless, keeping our distance—a strange encounter that was almost like a silent understanding between two parties.

And once again, it was B's words that broke the silence.

B tugged hard on the hem of my shirt and said,

"Hey... there's one over there, too."

...pointing in a completely different direction from where the first figure was.

A and C must have heard B too, because they turned at the exact same time as me, and over in that direction, we saw another identical black figure standing stock-still, watching us.

Exactly identical silhouettes watching us from two different spots. Receiving such unprovoked scrutiny, cold sweat began to break out on us.

"...Hey, did we do something wrong?"

Intimidated, A whispered to me in a weak voice. I felt the same way, unable to understand why those figures were silently staring at us, my mind on high alert.

"Maybe we're not supposed to be here...?"

Suggesting trespassing or private property as a possibility, I immediately told A we should retreat.

"Yeah, my dad would kill me if he found out. Let's head back."

He surprisingly agreed right away.

Realizing even A was no match for a scolding from his dad, he turned on his heel, patted B's head, and said, "Let's go home!" C and I fell into line behind A and B.

But for some reason, the figures started following us, matching our pace.

A noticed it too, and I could tell his walking pace was getting faster and faster.

Because of that, B and C started running out of breath, so I called out from the back, "You're going a bit too fast!" but A just had an overwhelmed look on his face and yelled, "Hurry up!"

Instinctively, I looked behind us and saw the figures pushing through the branches, heading straight toward us.

This is bad.

Reaching that realization on instinct, I took the hand of C, who was already exhausted. "C, just a little further!" I said, and broke into a run with her.

A was practically carrying B as he rushed down the mountain, but since I wasn't as big as A, pulling C along meant the distance between us and A's group kept widening.

Then, just as we cleared a patch of bushes ahead, C must have tripped on a vine—with a small squeal, she tumbled down, and I went down on my knees along with her.

I hurriedly pulled C up, but her knee was scraped, and she instantly burst into tears: "Wahhhhh!"

My mind was filled with panic about the figures closing in from behind, but I couldn't abandon C right in front of me. I patted her head, saying, "It's okay, alright? Hang in there just a bit more," then pulled her up by the hand again and broke into a heavy jog.

A and B were nowhere in sight ahead of us, but carrying C, I thought of nothing except getting off this mountain.

Right around then, from what felt like a considerable distance back, I heard a violent rustle-rustle-rustle!—I thought those figures had started sprinting toward us at full speed, and my heart nearly leaped out of my chest.

Just keep running.

That single thought consumed me. Without any room to worry about C's injury, I kept sprinting while practically supporting her over my shoulder.

RUSTLE RUSTLE RUSTLE!

Just as an exceptionally loud noise sounded right behind us, I caught sight of A ahead at the end of the open trail, beckoning frantically: "Hurry! Quick!" Relief washed over me. Just a little more—if we reach there, we'll be okay. Strangely, that's what I believed.

But just a few meters before reaching A, having a moment of relief made me carelessly glance back.

When I turned around, even though there was still distance between us, I saw several, dozens—maybe even hundreds—of those black figures running after us in pursuit.

"Eek!"

A high-pitched squeal escaped my throat, but carrying C, I summoned every last drop of my strength and burst into the open space where A was standing.

We both collapsed onto the ground, and lying there, I finally looked up at the clear sky, breathing heavily, before turning toward A.

A was looking down at me, asking, "Are you okay?", but the first thing I asked was, "What was that?!"

A looked toward the mountain and shook his head, but I pushed myself up slightly to check the mountain with my own eyes. Just as A implied, no matter where I looked across the mountain, there wasn't a trace of those black figures anywhere.

Truly relieved this time, I spread my arms wide into a starfish pose. I finally found the energy to check if B and C were okay; looking at them, they were leaning against a nearby stone wall, breathing heavily with utterly exhausted expressions.

On the way back, we were almost completely silent, but I unconsciously asked A, "What do you think that was?" Of course, A had no way of knowing the answer, so he replied with the shortest, most powerless voice of the day: "Who knows."

That night after dinner, B and C must have been exhausted because they fell asleep right away. Their mothers carried them off to the guest rooms, and after A and I finished taking our baths, we returned to our respective guest rooms to sleep without talking much.

That might have been the hardest I'd run since sports day sprint races. Young kids like B and C were forced to run a distance that had left even me and A breathless. It made sense they'd fall fast asleep from exhaustion.

Thinking that, I fell asleep alone in the bedroom where my parents' futons were laid out side by side.

The adults were probably drinking and making noise right about now, but right then, that distant commotion was a comfort that restored my terror-frayed nerves.

Before long, the voices of the adults became a lullaby, and I drifted off to sleep.

I don't know how much time had passed, but I woke up to a strange noise.

Creak... The sound was the floorboards creaking as someone walked along the veranda—a characteristic feature of my grandparents' house. Catching that faint creak in my ears was what woke me up.

Glancing beside me, the neighboring futons were empty, and hearing the adults drinking in the living room meant my parents hadn't come to bed yet. Since the restroom was past the hallway with the veranda, I assumed someone was just going to the bathroom and closed my eyes again. But somehow, I realized the creaking was heading right toward the room where I was sleeping.

Creak...

Too slow for an adult, too light for a kid.

That sound reached my ears at steady intervals, but before long, another sound—a voice—joined it.

"...Ehhhh..."

Phonetically, it sounded like it was pronouncing "eh," a muffled, low voice like a child's or a woman's. It echoed faintly, moving in sync with the creaking floorboards as it approached the guest room where I lay.

Judging by the voice, I thought it was a woman and pictured the mothers of each family, but something felt off, so I dismissed the thought. If anything, it sounded like an older voice—yeah, close to Grandma's. But it still didn't quite sound like Grandma's voice either, and the question of who on earth it could be churned through my mind.

"Heehhh..."

As I was thinking that, the voice sounded almost directly behind me, right beyond the paper sliding door, making my spine snap straight. A strange cold sweat broke out; I pulled the futon tightly over myself, curled up with my back to the door, and waited, trembling.

Slid... slid-slid...

The sound of the paper door sliding open fueled my panic even further.

Someone was definitely stepping into the guest room where I slept. Logically speaking, the only ones who would do that were my mom or grandma, but the eerie atmosphere felt completely different from any family member or relative. Heart pounding wildly, all I could do was stay silent.

"Ain't it nice... ain't it nice..."

The voice belonged to an old woman, similar to Grandma. But that voice, speaking right behind my head, didn't belong to any relative I knew. Aside from the terror of a stranger breaking into the room, more than anything, that raspy, choked voice and breathing were more than enough to freeze my spine.

Something was definitely standing right behind my head, at the top of my futon.

I could feel the fabric near my pillow sink and pull under the weight of someone stepping onto the futon.

Then, the warmth of someone exhaling "hah... hah..." washed over my ear.

"Ain't it nice... ain't it nice..."

This time, I heard it clearly right next to my ear. Dripping with malice, sinister and lingering, it felt like whoever it was was smirking.

Slid...

As something passed over my head, I felt the futon sink near the pillow on the side I was facing. Opening my eyes to a crack, I saw an arm extending down, resting a hand there.

Faintly visible in the night light, the arm was thin, made of nothing but skin and bones like a burdock root. Desperately holding my breath, I prayed with all my heart for someone—my parents, anyone—to come save me: "Someone! Please, someone!"

But my prayer went unanswered.

As if mocking my desperate wish, dried, seaweed-like hair suddenly dangled down from above my field of vision, followed by a wrinkled, decrepit old woman's face peering down right at me.

The old woman's face, like her arm, was leathery skin stretched tight with no fat underneath.

Revealing blackened teeth, the old woman repeatedly opened and closed her mouth, laughing maniacally: "Abababababababa!"

For a moment, I was so horrified I thought my heart would leap out of my mouth, but then I lost consciousness.

Probably a few hours later, I was shaken awake forcefully by my mother. The first thing Mom said was "What's wrong?!" as Dad turned on the light and looked down at me, asking, "Are you okay?" I looked at my parents with a bewildered expression, but when I asked, "What happened?", Mom just hugged me tightly.

Once I slipped out of Mom's suffocating embrace, my parents told me what happened after I fainted.

Apparently, while the adults were drinking in the living room, a chorus of screams—"Kyaaah!" and "Waaaah!"—suddenly erupted from all the guest rooms from all the kids, including me. Expecting a burglar, the men rushed into each room, but there was no intruder—just the dark night and the kids. But when they turned on the lights, the kids were squirming in agony in their futons, each one muttering a drowning groan: "Ababababa..."

By the way, it turned out I had wet the bed, so Dad immediately told me to go change.

Shortly after hearing that story, I finally remembered that an old woman-like creature had come into my room before I passed out, and I immediately told my parents.

However, since there were no signs of an outsider breaking in, my parents didn't believe me even when I testified, brushing it off with "Did you just have a scary dream?"

But when A's and C's parents came over and mentioned, just as I had testified, "The kids say they had a dream about an old woman coming in," my parents' faces darkened. Conversely, A's and C's parents, who had thought it was just a fuss over kids having a bad dream, turned pale like my parents when it was confirmed that all the kids described the exact same "old woman" and had screamed at the exact same time.

Then, from the living room where A was, I could hear A's trembling voice. He was probably talking to Grandpa, who was growling in a voice laced with anger, "Listen here, tell me everything!"

"...Today, we all went to the mountain... and then, we were chased by some weird human-like shadows..."

It was easy to imagine him speaking reluctantly on the verge of tears, but even while getting scolded by Grandpa, A blurted out today's experience in his clumsy vocabulary.

Meanwhile, eavesdropping on A and Grandpa's conversation, Dad kept checking with me between pauses: "Is that true?" So I went along with Dad's verification process like a machine, just nodding at regular intervals.

Afterward, us kids were gathered in the Buddhist altar room to sleep together. When I asked A and the others, "Did you guys dream about the old woman too?", A turned deathly pale and asked, "You too?", while B and C were sniffling and hiccuping after having cried so much.

Since the Buddhist altar room was adjacent to the living room separated only by sliding doors, the kids slept side-by-side in a row that night. The fathers and Grandpa kept watch in the living room with the doors open, dozing off occasionally, while the mothers slept in their respective guest rooms.

The next morning, Grandpa announced he was taking his three sons and A to head to that mountain. I didn't know what they were going for, but A was probably going as a guide. We elementary school kids were kept under the supervision of Grandma and the mothers, playing as usual or helping prepare lunch.

About three hours later, the phone rang, and Grandma, holding the receiver, looked surprised: "Oh my goodness!"

Less than an hour after that, B muttered, "Police car." Hearing a police siren in the distance, we all looked outside from the veranda and watched as two police cars passed in front of the house, driving off toward the mountain Grandpa and the others had headed to.

I heard this when Grandpa and the others came home: human bones had been discovered on the mountain. Decades had passed since death, but according to the police, they belonged to an elderly female.

That night, all the relatives gathered for our second dinner together, followed by free time. However, as I lay on my back digesting my food, the phone rang again. Grandpa rushed to answer it, and after hearing whatever was said, he let out a lifeless, drained comment: "I see... so it really was."

Returning to the living room after hanging up, he sat back down and let out a deep sigh: "It really was the old lady from the XX family."

Hearing Grandpa's words, the three fathers chimed in together, "I see," and for some reason, my dad patted my head.

On the other hand, I saw A's dad poke A on the forehead, saying, "We're going to the temple tomorrow."

The next day, I thought only A was going to the temple, but for some reason B, C, and I were brought along as well, forced to chant long sutras alongside the chief priest. Confusing rituals followed after that, and sitting in the unfamiliar seiza posture caused us to lose feeling in our legs halfway through, but after about two hours, we finally saw the end in sight and breathed a sigh of relief.

Once the ritual ended, we returned to Grandpa's house, enjoyed our free time, and eventually the time came for our three-day, two-night Obon visit to end.

After saying goodbye to C and B, I went up to A at the end. Taking advantage of a moment when the adults weren't looking, I whispered to him, "What was all that about the police cars and the temple?" There was no special reason, but among us kids, A was the closest to an adult, so I figured he must know what happened.

And true to expectations, A told me the truth behind his parents' backs.

Two nights ago, when all the kids screamed from having the same dream about the old woman, A let slip, "Could it be because of that...?", which led to him being interrogated by his parents and Grandpa, forcing him to confess that we'd gone to Mount Ubasute during the day.

Simply put, the story of Mount Ubasute that A had told us was an actual historical fact in Grandpa's village, practiced routinely up until a few decades ago.

As a prime example, the mother of one of Grandpa's acquaintances had gone missing thirty years ago. Rumors swirled in the village that the acquaintance, exhausted from caregiving, had abandoned his mother halfway up that mountain.

Just to be safe, the local volunteer fire department back then secretly gathered people to search the mountain without telling the acquaintance, but because they found nothing, the rumors died down, and the case remained an unsolved missing person incident.

But now, thirty years later. The story connects to the police cars from last night. Because A described the details of the dream, Grandpa thought the description sounded uncannily like the acquaintance's missing mother, so the next day, they decided to go check out the location with A as their guide. My dad—Grandpa's three sons—had also known the acquaintance's mother, so the three of them went along with Grandpa.

And when they arrived at the site, they found what were clearly human bones, leading them to call the police, which brought out the squad cars.

By the way, the acquaintance had passed away from illness a few years ago, and his house was maintained by his son and daughter-in-law who visited occasionally. It so happened they were visiting for Obon; when Grandpa's group ran into them and explained the situation, asking if they had any of the mother's remains, they said they kept her extracted teeth, which were then used for identification.

Once it was conclusively proven that the bones belonged to the acquaintance's mother, we were brought to the temple for an exorcism just to be safe.

"It really was Mount Ubasute..."

A muttered that thought after laying out the whole truth, but there was no smile on his face.

By the way, when I asked how they knew it was the acquaintance's mother from the dream, he told me it was because her way of laughing—"Ababababa"—was so distinctive.

Having survived such a rare experience, I safely made it to high school. Returning to my grandparents' house for Obon after a long time, I reunited with B, who had grown significantly taller and tanned, and C, who had become a high school girl using youth slang and acting strong-willed. I deeply felt the passage of time. Meanwhile, A had failed his university entrance exams and enrolled in a safety school, looking even more flippant than before. But regardless of his appearance, because he was the original cause of our terrifying ordeal, C chewed him out every single time she saw him.

Even so, I'm grateful that our entire extended family is healthy and living well, without a single person missing.