The Spike at the Crossroads

Episode 2: The First Dialogue: An Irrational Nightmare and the Darkness of This World

"A ghost train...? Did it really appear, Grandma?"

Chihiro let go of her phone, letting it fall onto the bed as she looked into Haru's face.
Haru nodded slightly, tapping her chin with her slender, silver-streaked finger.

"To say it 'appeared' is putting it too lightly. From the day that iron spike arrived, every single night, the entire house would shake like an earthquake, rattling and clattering. ...Chihiro, do you really think ghosts are the scariest thing?"

"Eh? Aren't they? Ghosts are terrifying, aren't they?"

"Listen, dead people, no matter how scary, just stand there looking resentful. What's truly terrifying is the weight of their unexpressed grief... and the cold, lifeless eyes of living people trying to erase it by force."

Haru's voice sharpened for an instant.
In the depths of her grandmother's eyes, Chihiro saw the mouth of a dark memory opening—one that Haru had never shown to anyone before.

"When we took in that spike, I was twenty-three. Genzo was twenty-five.

We hadn't even decided what kind of adults we wanted to be.

Your grandfather, who was more easily frightened than anyone yet incredibly proud, desperately put on a brave face for me.

Into the lives of such young people fell a terrifying spark that could shake the nation.

All we could do was tremble..."

Showa 34 (1959).

After the mud-covered fugitive left the "spike and screw" on that night of torrential rain, Haru and Genzo's antique shop became ruled by an otherworldly, bizarre presence.

Whenever midnight struck, the eerie phenomenon would begin.
—Clatter-clank, clatter-clank, clatter-clank...

From far, far away came the sound of iron wheels grinding harshly against rails.

But there was no railway line for large National Railways trains anywhere near Rokudo Crossing in Higashiyama, Kyoto, though streetcars did run nearby.

Yet, every night, the sound drew closer.

RATTLE-CLATTER-RATTLE!

The old bowls and antiques lined up on the shop shelves bumped against each other sharply.

The air filled with a pungent, burning smell like scorched flesh, and the scent of coal smoke.

"Darling... that sound again...!"

Haru gripped the sleeve of Genzo's yukata tightly, covering her ears beneath the futon.

Genzo, too, gritted his teeth in the dark, desperately holding Haru close to his chest.

"Don't look! Haru, keep your eyes closed!"

Genzo shouted, but his arm wrapped around Haru's back was trembling violently.

The rapid, pounding heartbeat of Genzo pressed against Haru spoke painfully of his desperate bravado and love.

Soon, white, mist-like shadows began to flicker beyond the glass sliding door facing the street.

With a wet slap, a blood-stained palm was pressed against the old glass.
Pale, bloodless faces.

They were men in National Railways uniforms and caps.

Their foreheads were split open, with dark-red blood dripping down.

They stared through the glass at Haru and Genzo with hollow eyes, mouthing a silent plea in unison.

"G... i... v... e... i... t... b... a... c... k..."

Their lips moved slowly.

"G... i... v... e... b... a... c... k... t... h... e... t... r... u... t... h..."

They were the vengeful spirits of the engineers and crew members who had lost their lives in the Matsukawa derailment.

The rusted railway spike was a cursed object that held their deaths and the truth of the incident—and that cursed object was now in Haru and Genzo's hands.

And the terror was not limited to the night.

The next morning, when Haru opened the shop after a sleepless night, she saw men who looked completely uninterested in antiques standing across the street.

Men in black trench coats, their wide-brimmed hats pulled down low.

They took turns casting sharp glances at the shop, and when Haru made eye contact, they quickly looked away and vanished around the alley corner.

"Darling, those men... they've been watching our shop since yesterday."
Haru whispered, her face pale. Genzo clenched his fist tightly at the back register.

"I won't let them touch a hair on your head! It's alright, you must be mistaken!"

Genzo laughed loudly to reassure Haru, but immediately after, his hand slipped, dropping a precious hibachi charcoal brazier to the floor with a loud crash.

Seeing Genzo trembling, his face completely pale, Haru realized he was also at his limit.

"Those aren't ordinary police... They're undercover detectives trying to cover up the truth of the incident, along with the existence of the spike. If they find out that spike is here, we're finished."

We were caught between an unyielding pursuit from "the other world" and a cold-blooded pressure from "this world."

The conscience and sanity of the young couple were caught between these two massive terrors, on the verge of being crushed to pieces.

"I can't take this anymore, Haru. At this rate, the two of us will either be killed by ghosts or buried in the dark by those detectives...!"

"But darling... what will we do with the spike? Throw it away?"

"Throwing it away is out of the question! If we throw it away, we don't know who will pick it up or where. The curse will follow us forever. ...I know, let's send it to a temple."

Genzo looked at Haru with bloodshot eyes.

"There is a famous old temple known for purifying cursed objects and comforting lost souls. We will send it there anonymously, with a letter begging them to lay the souls of the deceased National Railways crew to rest.

We will rely on the mercy of the Buddha to let their souls pass on peacefully. Once the spike is out of our hands and housed in a sacred place, the anger of the spirits should subside. Even the detectives won't be able to lay a finger on something dedicated to a temple."

It was Genzo's desperate "choice of love" to protect their beloved shop and lives.

Rather than merely pushing the curse onto some random stranger, it was an expression of his utmost conscience, attempting to save the souls of the dead through purification and memorial services.

"...Yes. Let's do that, darling. Apply to the Buddha and get that terrifying lump of iron out of our house...!"

Haru nodded through her tears, moved by Genzo's painful bravado and kindness.

That afternoon, Genzo spread out a newspaper, but his hands shook so much he couldn't even wrap the spike.

"I can't... my hands won't listen to me..."

Genzo grimaced in frustration.
Haru placed her hand over his trembling ones, and together, feeling each other's warmth, they wrapped the spike and screw in several layers of newspaper.

They placed it inside a thick kraft paper envelope and wrote the temple's address.

Genzo ran out the back door toward the post office, slipping past the cold, watchful eyes of the undercover detectives.

When he returned in the evening, his shoulders were light, as if a great weight had been lifted.

As soon as he saw Haru, he collapsed onto the floor, his face a mix of tears and a childish smile.

"I sent it. I handed it over safely, Haru. ...Now the Buddha will let them sleep in peace. We can finally live normally again. I protected you..."

The two held each other tightly, shedding tears of relief.
Even the smell of coal smoke drifting from the back of the shop seemed to have faded.

But they did not yet know.

They did not know the depth of the greed of the detectives, who would go so far as to violently seize even a sacred offering to the gods.

And they did not know that to the vengeful dead, anyone who obstructed their salvation and purification would become the "next target" to be mercilessly destroyed.

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　"Thank you so much for reading to the very end!"💗