It was the summer when I was eleven years old. At that time, I had a best friend named Takeo.
Takeo was confident, athletic, strong in fights, and also had a humorous side. He was popular and excelled at everything he did.
Even now, when I reflect on my younger self, I sometimes think of him. Back then, being Takeo’s best friend was my only source of pride, and I was always trying to get his attention. I admired him because he was so different from me.
But Takeo suddenly died. It was during summer vacation. In the middle of the night, a landslide triggered by heavy rain swept away several houses, killing many people. Takeo was one of the victims.
That’s what the world believes. But I know the truth.
It happened on the day of the landslide. We had planned to go fishing at a nearby pond, as usual. Sometimes, a big carp would appear there, and we were determined to catch it.
But Takeo didn’t show up at the pond. At that time, the rain that would later cause the disaster was still just a drizzle. I thought he had skipped our plan because of the rain.
Feeling resentful towards the rain and Takeo, I took a detour on my way home, looking for something interesting. Under the roof of a small shrine in the neighborhood, I found Takeo sitting with his knees hugged to his chest.
“Hey, Takeo, I’ve been waiting for you.”
I said bluntly, and Takeo replied softly, “Sorry.”
His voice was trembling. It was the first time I had seen him like that.
“Did something happen?”
“……”
“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine.”
“Can you promise not to tell anyone?”
“Yeah.”
After a brief exchange, Takeo spoke.
“A strange tall lady… did something terrible to me.”
As soon as he said that, Takeo started crying as if he was releasing everything he had been holding back.
While Takeo was crying, I thought he had been horribly abused by an older woman, and I was furious. I imagined her as a terrible woman who made Takeo cry like this.
I didn’t know what had happened to him. There were no visible injuries, and Takeo was tough, so it didn’t seem like it was violence. It must have been something worse. Maybe she destroyed something important to him or killed his pet dog, Joe…
As I was thinking about these things, Takeo stopped crying. I said with a snort.
“We’ll definitely get back at her.”
“No.”
Takeo immediately denied it.
“If you see her, run away. You’ll recognize her at a glance. She’s taller than the hedges. Probably about three meters tall.”
Takeo said something incomprehensible. Even men aren’t that tall.
“Please promise me. Run away immediately.”
His tone was strong, unlike someone who had been crying just moments ago. It wasn’t the right atmosphere to ask for more details.
“O-okay.”
It was such an outlandish story that I thought Takeo might have had a dream or something, but seeing a side of him I had never seen before made me feel closer to him, and I decided to believe him.
Now I understand that Takeo was trying to protect me. And that he was at the shrine to be protected by the gods.
I don’t remember much about what happened after that, but we talked and played at the shrine in the rain, feeling a bit awkward, and then we went our separate ways. By then, Takeo was back to his usual self.
That night, the landslide took the lives of many, including Takeo’s family. Despite desperate searches, his body was never found.
It was much later, at a family gathering, that I heard the legend of “Hasshaku-sama” from my drunken father.
It was a story about a monstrously tall woman in white robes who abducted boys. There was a scene where the eerie creature inflicted painful sexual abuse on the boys, and everyone listened with a mix of fear and amusement, treating it as a horror-themed dirty joke.
But to me, it was a spine-chilling story.
Everything matched with Takeo’s case. The tall lady, the terrible treatment, and the disappearance.
Takeo didn’t die in the landslide. He was captivated by Hasshaku-sama. I was convinced of that.
Later, I talked to my father about Takeo and asked him more about Hasshaku-sama.
My father said he had heard the story of Hasshaku-sama from my grandfather. when he was child, there was a time when a series of mysterious disappearances occurred, and rumors about them became a kind of trend, creating many stories.
However, in my father’s generation, there had been no such disappearances in the area, and the legend of Hasshaku-sama had faded into a local ghost story, with no need to fear it.
My father tried to reassure me. He suggested that Takeo might have heard the story of Hasshaku-sama from someone and dreamed about it. He explained that when a body is swept away by a landslide, it can be torn apart, making it difficult to find. It was just a series of unfortunate coincidences.
At first, I couldn’t accept it. But as time passed, I gradually came to terms with that interpretation. Little did I know that my own son had encountered such a terrifying entity.