Chapter Two: Echoes of the Forgotten

  The vilge of Shimitsu had always been quiet, but today, the silence felt heavier like a thick fog pressing down on Eshina’s chest. The streets, paved with ancient cobblestones, stretched out before him in a colorless monotony. Houses stood motionless, their wooden frames worn and tired, as if they had given up on time itself. The air was stale, and the people… they were wrong.

  They moved with an unnatural rhythm, their footsteps synchronized, their eyes dull like gss. No one looked at him. No one spoke unless spoken to, and even then, their responses were empty, void of warmth or recognition. Eshina had lived here his entire life, yet standing among them now, he felt like a stranger.

  "Something is wrong with this pce."

  He gritted his teeth and pushed forward.

  Eshina had spent the night restless, the weight of the library’s events gnawing at his mind. The voice, the shadows, the book that had opened on its own it couldn’t have been a dream. He had felt it, the cold hands of something unseen pressing against him. And yet, when he tried to expin it to others, their reactions sent a deeper chill through his bones than the experience itself.

  His neighbor, an old woman who had once greeted him with tired smiles, merely blinked when he spoke to her. "Books are for reading, dear," she murmured in a ft tone. "Nothing more."

  The shopkeeper, who had known him since childhood, frowned slightly at his words, as if straining to understand. "A book?" His lips barely moved. "Don’t dwell on such things."

  Even his own mother, though distant in nature, had never been this detached. When he spoke of the library, of the shadows that had whispered his name, she simply turned to him with an empty gaze.

  "You worry too much, Eshina," she said.

  And that was it. No concern, no curiosity just a mechanical dismissal.

  He clenched his fists. Why won’t they listen?

  His breath quickened as he walked the streets, his eyes darting between the lifeless figures around him. It was as if the entire vilge had been hollowed out. Puppets acting out a life that wasn’t real.

  There was only one person left to turn to.

  The old librarian.

  Before the library had been abandoned, it had belonged to a man named Hideo Takashi. A recluse, eccentric and soft-spoken, he had once been the only person who shared Eshina’s love for books. But one day, he had vanished, and the library had been left to rot.

  If anyone knew about the book, it would be him.

  Eshina’s feet carried him to the edge of the vilge, where Takashi’s home stood alone, half-swallowed by twisted vines. The windows were clouded with dust, the wooden door slightly ajar, as if inviting him in.

  A deep breath. Then he stepped inside.

  The air within was suffocating, thick with the scent of mold and something… metallic. The house was dimly lit, shadows stretching unnaturally long across the wooden floor.

  Then he saw him.

  Hideo Takashi sat in the corner of the room, his body hunched over, his fingers tracing the edges of an old book. His face was obscured by long, stringy hair, but his presence filled the room with a suffocating unease.

  Eshina swallowed hard. "Takashi-san?"

  The old man did not respond. His fingers twitched against the book’s cover, nails yellowed and cracked.

  Eshina stepped closer. "Do you remember me?" His voice was barely above a whisper. "It’s Eshina. I " He hesitated. "Something happened at the library."

  Takashi’s fingers stopped moving. Slowly, he lifted his head.

  Eshina’s breath caught.

  His eyes.

  They were wide too wide. Unblinking. The whites of his eyes were stained with veins of bck, the pupils dited as if he had been staring into darkness for far too long.

  A slow, eerie smile spread across his lips. "The library…" His voice was hoarse, as if he hadn’t spoken in years. "Did it call to you too?"

  Eshina took a step back. "What?"

  Takashi chuckled, a dry, hollow sound. "You heard them, didn’t you? The voices. The ones that whisper between the pages."

  A chill ran down Eshina’s spine. "What do you know?"

  Takashi’s hands gripped the book in his p tightly. "Books are doors, boy. Some lead to knowledge. Others…" His head twitched. "Others don’t let you leave."

  Eshina’s throat tightened. "What happened to you?"

  Takashi let out a slow breath, his chest rising and falling in an unnatural rhythm. "I read too much," he murmured. "And one day, the story read me back."

  The room seemed to darken. The shadows along the walls flickered like living things.

  Eshina’s mind screamed at him to run, but his feet were rooted to the floor. "The book in the library," he forced out. "What is it?"

  Takashi’s smile widened, his cracked lips stretching too far. "The beginning of the end," he whispered.

  A sudden gust of wind blew through the room, though the windows were shut. The book in Takashi’s p trembled, its pages flipping wildly.

  Eshina took another step back. "I.. I have to go."

  Takashi ughed a sound that no longer belonged to a man. "You can try, boy," he said softly. "But the story isn’t done with you yet."

  The shadows surged forward.

  Eshina turned and ran, his breath ragged, his heart hammering against his ribs. He burst through the door, into the cold, lifeless vilge. The air outside felt thinner now, like the world itself was shrinking.

  He looked back only once.

  Takashi stood in the doorway, his head tilted at an unnatural angle, his eyes gleaming in the dim light.

  "You’re already part of it, Eshina," he called out. "You always were."

  Eshina stumbled down the empty streets, the echo of Takashi’s ughter chasing him like a ghost.

  And for the first time, he realized

  The vilge had never been real.

  Eshina stumbled down the empty streets, the echo of Takashi’s ughter chasing him like a ghost.

  He was on autopilot, barely aware of the path he was taking. The shadows seemed to stretch further, warping and curling as if alive. The vilge had never felt so empty, and yet, the silence was deafening. His thoughts raced, a haze of confusion clouding his mind.

  It wasn’t until he reached his home that he stopped, standing in front of the door. Something felt… off. It wasn’t the house itself it was the faint sound of murmured voices coming from inside.

  He stepped inside, his heart pounding in his chest. And there she was. His mother.

  Sitting at the kitchen table, as though nothing had ever changed. Her face was tired, but warm, just as it had been when he was a child.

  "Eshina, you’re home early," she said in a soft voice, her gaze never leaving the window.

  He froze, his breath catching in his throat. "M-Mother?" he stammered. "What… What are you doing here?"

  She didn’t turn to face him. "I’m waiting for you, dear."

  His hands began to tremble. No… she’s dead. She died when I was a child. Both of them.

  His mind spun as the walls seemed to close in on him. The memories were clear his parents' funeral, the years spent in foster care, the overwhelming emptiness. His mother… had been gone for so long.

  He took a step back, his chest tightening. "You’re… not real." His voice was barely a whisper. "You’re not my mother."

  The room felt colder now, the shadows creeping closer. The figure at the table slowly turned to face him, her face too calm, too familiar, yet wrong. Her eyes were bnk empty, devoid of any soul.

  "Does it matter?" she whispered.

  His world tilted, and everything blurred. He stumbled out of the house, the door smming shut behind him with a loud thud.

  "Who was that?" he whispered to himself as he ran through the streets, the voice of his mother lingering in his ears.

  The vilge was silent, oppressive, as though the air itself was holding its breath.

  "Who did I just talk to?" His mind screamed the question over and over.

  His heart raced. He turned around, but there was no one there. Only the dark, lifeless streets of Shimitsu.