It was the autumn of my first year in university. Since it was a Saturday, I was online at home since midday, browsing various sites. Eventually, I dropped into my usual occult forum and chatted with the other members who were killing time just like me. The topic was the apocalypse from Nostradamus's Great Prophecy, looming just two years away. It was amazing how, even after arguing about it endlessly all summer, we still hadn't run out of things to say. I wondered if Nostradamus himself had foreseen that he would become this famous in the distant future.
Itami: I keep hearing the name "LUCA" lately. Anonymous: What's that? Dora: Ah, I've heard of it. Ruka. Mirakichi: It's supposed to be a savior or something. Anonymous: What happened to the Great King of Terror?! Dora: I guess that's a separate thing. Hitode: What? I've never heard of it. Itami: Rumor is, LUCA will descend in 1999. Hitode: First I've heard of it. Where's it descending? Dora: To our neighborhood! Anonymous: A local hero came to our town! Hitode: Does it have anything to do with the Gospel of Luke? Anonymous: Brought out the Bible code theory. Mirakichi: "And there will be signs in sun and moon and stars, and on the earth distress of nations in perplexity because of the roaring of the sea and the waves, people fainting with fear and with foreboding of what is coming on the world. For the powers of the heavens will be shaken. And then they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory." ...From the Gospel of Luke, chapter 21. Copypasted. Anonymous: Isn't the spelling for Luke different? Lucam. Dora: What about Suzanne Vega's "Luka"? Itami: That's LUKA. Hitode: Nostalgic! I'm tearing up. …………
I certainly had heard the name LUCA before. Whenever we talked about Nostradamus's prophecy this summer, I would always hear it. Every time, it gave me a slightly strange feeling. Because even though I had seen and heard all about Nostradamus during my junior high and high school years, I had never once heard the name LUCA during that time. In other words, wasn't this something that had suddenly started circulating in the past year or so? Yet, looking at the forum's past logs, the name had popped up here and there even before then. It was a mystery. When I asked upperclassmen at university, many of them had known the name LUCA and the rumors about it for a long time. It gave me an itchy, unsettled feeling. It was almost as if it really was a local hero.
The PHS on my desk rang. It was Shisho (Master). He said he had somewhere to go and asked if I wanted to come along. "I'll go." With that, I logged out and turned off the PC. As the screen blacked out, I rubbed my eyes, feeling like the letters "L-U-C-A" were lingering right to the very end.
When I went outside, a clear autumn sky spread out above, and a pleasant breeze was blowing. I arrived at the meeting point, and the two of us—Shisho and I—set off cycling through the town. "Oh yeah. Tonight, we're going to the 'Red Mansion,'" Shisho said as if remembering, while pedaling his bike. "Ah, the Red Mansion," I muttered. It was a well-known haunted spot. I'd never quite known where it was, but of course Shisho knew. However... I thought, watching his profile. He was so deeply immersed in the occult, wandering around day and night drowning in decadent pleasures, and he hardly ever had a part-time job—yet I almost never saw him hard up for money. On the contrary, he hoarded sketchy occult-related items at home with no clue where he got them, showing off new acquisitions to me at every opportunity. Where on earth did he get the money to buy such things? His apartment was certainly a dump, but even discounting that, the math still didn't add up. Someone like me was struggling day-to-day, working a part-time job roasting and selling candied chestnuts at the train station. I was even thinking about picking up another shift.
The man himself, whistling away, slowed his bike to a stop at a certain spot. "Here." When I looked up, wooden slat walls stretched out to the left and right, and part of a traditional Japanese house was visible on the other side. Trees grew thick and lush within the grounds. *It's a huge estate.* Thinking that as I slowly pedaled along, the slat wall just kept going and going... on and on forever. Gradually, I was struck dumb. What kind of ridiculously lavish mansion is this?! It was a residence with an unimaginably vast plot of land. And it wasn't just that the land was large; parts of the house were constantly flickering into view beyond the trees that circled the property. This old guy, could it be...? My mind had just been wandering about why he wasn't short on cash, so I couldn't help but suspect the worst.
We finally reached a gate that looked like a front entrance, and Shisho pressed the intercom. He didn't say, "I'm home," into the speaker. That came as a slight relief. The large wooden gate opened, revealing a long cobblestone path stretching beyond it. Standing right in the middle was an elderly man in formal attire, bowing his head—someone who fit the description not just of a butler, but rather a classic household steward. He didn't say, "Welcome home, young master." That also came as a slight relief. I parked my bicycle near the entrance and, completely clueless, was guided through the grounds. I remember taking off my shoes to enter the Japanese-style house, but then we went back outside, slipping into a pair of prepared outdoor sandals.
There was a mansion set within a vast garden, and within that mansion, there was yet another garden. It was a quiet space. There was an artificial hill, garden stones of all sizes, moss-covered plants, and a large pond where water birds were preening their feathers. Proceeding along the stone path laid over fine gravel, I had to doubt whether we were really inside the city. Weren't we inside the grounds of a temple or shrine in Nara or Kyoto? I looked up to see a few small clouds floating in the refreshing autumn sky. Not a single power line was in sight. Perhaps absorbed by the trees and the multiple layers of walls along the way, not a single sound of civilization, like cars, could be heard. It was a tranquil, miniature-garden-like place.
"This way." There was a single-story building nestled in the miniature garden. Passing through the entrance, we walked down a corridor that smelled of wood and were led into a Japanese-style room. It was a room that let in plenty of natural light.
An old man was sitting at the back of the room. He was wearing traditional Japanese clothing. His writing hand stopped dead on a heavy, black wooden desk. "You've come." At that voice, the butler or steward who had guided us here silently bowed and left the room. "Hey," Shisho replied in a casual tone. Then, pointing at me, he said, "This guy is sort of an apprentice of mine." The old man glanced at me once, then stared at Shisho with an air of total disinterest. "Any changes?" "None." Sitting side-by-side with Shisho on the cushions facing the old man directly, I felt somewhat uneasy. Shisho sat cross-legged with a sullen look on his face, a complete contradiction to his cheerful whistling just moments before. "Any sign of that thing showing up anywhere?" "Nope." "..." The old man simply nodded without a hint of disappointment or dejection, pulled a sheet of *kaishi* paper from the hem of his kimono, and coughed into it to clear his phlegm. "I've got a tube running through my heart." A withered hand pointed at his chest. His clothes were slightly raised, as if some sort of device had been installed underneath. Was that a pacemaker? Shisho looked away from the old man, lowering his head with a strained face, and muttered something under his breath. *My betrayed heart.* It sounded like he said that. "Let me know if it appears." The meeting seemed to be over with nothing actually happening. Following Shisho's lead, I bowed my head and left the room, which was far too large for just one old man to occupy. On the way back, I followed behind the formally dressed old butler just as I had when we arrived. When we reached the long cobblestone path leading to the entrance gate, the old butler handed an envelope to Shisho. Without a word, Shisho accepted it. Money. I instinctively knew.
As I turned my back on the bowing old butler and headed toward the gate, a woman was squatting by the bicycle parked near the entrance. When I got closer, she looked up. I was surprised to see it was someone I knew. "I knew it," she said with a laugh. It was a university classmate named Sunami. Among the college students who all dyed their hair, her lustrous, short black hair—rare for these days—was her trademark. Today she was wearing easy-to-move-in pants and an autumn sweater. "I thought I recognized that bike."
More importantly than that, I couldn't get over why she was here. When I blurted out the question, she answered casually: "This is my house." No way. *Her?* The girl who barely scraped by academically and threw herself into part-time jobs was the young lady of a house like this? The same girl who, as a penalty game while everyone watched with curious eyes, had been forced to clear a strip-mahjong arcade game with no audience? Whose eccentric speech and behavior at the very first freshman mixer had become legendary, making her someone nobody in the department didn't know?!
My head was spinning, battered by the biggest shock of the day, and I blurted out some idiotic reaction like, "Oh. That's great, then," before hastily chasing after Shisho, who was already trying to pass through the gate, completely ignoring our exchange. "Come over and hang out sometimeee," her voice echoed at our backs.
That night. Shisho and I had come to an abandoned suburban building known as the "Red Mansion." Originally a love hotel, the building retained traces of what must have once been a flashy exterior, but was now thoroughly stained and dyed in shades of gray.
The origin of the name Red Mansion allegedly came from the owner's only daughter, who favored red clothes and red accessories. The hotel's exterior was also said to be entirely blood-red. Rumor has it that when the hotel went bankrupt and closed down, the entire family locked themselves in a single room and committed double suicide by setting it on fire. The ghost of the daughter who burned to death back then supposedly still lingers on these grounds, attacking anyone who dares to venture into the abandoned ruin out of morbid curiosity. "And she attacks anyone wearing red," Shisho whispered as we stepped onto the property. Despite it being autumn, he was dressed in just a single T-shirt. I was forced to match him. Thank goodness mine was long-sleeved, at least. Though it was a simple white T-shirt, it had a different color accent printed on the chest. Naturally, it was red. It was issued to me by Shisho specifically for tackling this haunted spot.
*This guy...* Under the faint moonlight, the overgrown grounds and the abandoned building beyond sank into a sea of gray. As I stepped quietly forward, I swallowed the words of exasperation that rose all the way to my throat. Instead, what slipped out was, "What was that money all about?" Though I didn't expect him to answer me now. "I'm just playing along with the delusions of an old man whose days are numbered," was all he replied.
"It appeared!" Shisho uttered a short exclamation. Following the direction of his gaze, I saw a black mass oozing like sludge from the gap in the half-tilted front entrance door. A chill ran down my spine. The black mass flew through the air in a straight line right toward us. Fast. In an instant, my feet locked up, unable to move. "Crap." Shisho braced himself, keeping his eyes on the entrance. Beside him, I felt like closing my eyes.
Scattering an eerie aura, the black mass closed in right above our heads. In my upward glance, hair. I felt like I saw disheveled hair within the mass. The very second I thought it was going to wash over us, the oozing malice stiffened. The black mass lost its focus, its outline blurring as if in confusion. Seizing that opening, Shisho slapped my shoulder, turned around, and started running. We ran. We ran. Feeling the presence of something closing in on our backs again. The two of us ran for our lives.
"Did you see it? Did you see it?" Shisho shouted excitedly as we ran, pointing over and over at the chest of his T-shirt. Drawn in, I looked down at my own T-shirt while running. I could see the chest area in the moonlight. A white background with a red accent. Letters. Words were written there in red fabric. *Yellow.* Shisho's shirt had the word *Blue* on it. "The Stroop effect works on ghosts, too!"
What an idiot. While running for my life, I thought it anew. *Such a total idiot!* He was a man full of mysteries, leaving everything a puzzle, and hesitating to speak of his past. But for now—at least for now—I had no choice. I'd give him the benefit of the doubt, just for today. I figured that was fine for now.
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