The Harbinger
- Left alone in the dark—go find your own Sun.
That's the phrase Erich heard from his grandma every time shouting and the sound of breaking dishes echoed from the living room. The boy would obediently head toward the window during daylight, or just stare into the dim glow of the wall sconce cutting through the gloomy dark.
Weirdly enough, most of those fights—contrary to what folks usually say about night arguments— happened in the middle of the day. So he'd climb up on the windowsill, stretch his legs all the way to the edge, and just sit there for what felt like forever, watching the thickets of the nearby forest, the sharp wooden fence posts, or the birds fluttering around the garden hose, showering in puddles of leftover water.
God, how he wished he could just become one of those free birds and fly off into the faraway. Or at least turn into that see-through water from the hose, soaking into the soil, with no idea what anger or pain even meant. No one would bother him then, and he wouldn't feel so lonely and helpless. In one way though, he did become like the water he dreamt of—tears kept slipping out of his eyes, trickling down his cheeks. Steady and slow. Drip... drip...
They felt endless. But like the yelling, they always faded eventually. And only ten minutes or so after everything had gone quiet would he finally dare to stick his messy red-haired head out of the room.
The hallway was usually empty, but the moment he pushed the door open wider and his bare feet touched the wooden floorboards, the door across the hall would swing open, and there'd be his grandma's stern, commanding face giving a look that clearly said: -Shut the door and go finish your homework!-
And he'd always obey. Because he knew that underneath that entire scowl, she was actually kind. She just didn't want him getting caught in the crossfire. That was it. Besides, he knew that soon, his parents would be dropping off Louisa—his sister—who, even though she was a couple years older, also had no friends and was stuck living with their Aunt Dorothy.
He'd begged Mom and Dad a hundred times to let Louisa stay with him and Grandma, but they never listened. They always had their own plans. Whether it was separating the siblings or choosing to live a life without their kids in it.
But he didn't hold it against them. Erich knew his folks were busy scientists working together, always off on their expeditions to study pharaohs and hunt for tombs of ancient Chinese emperors. They were passionate, to the point they even wanted to name his sister - Omm Sety after some ancient priestess (whatever that even meant), but Grandma had thankfully talked them out of it— said she'd get bullied in school for a name like that.
Erich himself never really had trouble fitting in at school. He always knew how to hold a conversation, and if some big kid started getting aggressive, he'd just distract them with some weird artifact he'd swiped from his parents' stash—always brought it back, of course! But these days, school stuff was the least of his worries. What really mattered was keeping an ear out, paying close attention to what was going on inside his (well, Grandma's) house.
Everything was silent now. Even Grandma's door stayed shut, which was odd. Erich tiptoed down the hallway like his favorite ninjas, trying to step real light across those old creaky panels. Suddenly, he felt eyes on him. He looked up—and jumped back with a gasp. He always forgot about them...
Those damn masks. Someone had nailed those creepy-ass tribal masks to the wall—twisted mouths, bright paint, hollow, starving eyes that seemed to stare right through you, like they were just waiting to attack and gobble you up! Erich wanted to dive behind the big claw-footed table in the corner— the usual safe spot when he couldn't make it to his room or Grandma's in time.
But curiosity beat fear. So this brave little hero balled up all his courage in one tiny fist and crept toward the spiral staircase that led down to the living room—where, surely, something fascinating was waiting. Step by step, he moved in closer, until he reached the top of the stairs. Victory number one: secured.
Now came the hard part. He had to channel his inner lynx—just like in those wildlife shows his dad sometimes watched, the ones that always made him kinda sad. Those little cats were masters of stealth. So he dropped onto all fours and crawled, elbows first.
It hurt. His elbows kept smacking into things, and even though he had his PJs on like some kind of armor, it still stung. But hey, real spies don't whine, right? He kept moving, stair by stair, inching his way down for what felt like a hundred years until, finally, the bottom. And there—there was the living room.
He saw the wide, soft armchair, and the back of someone's head. It was Dad, still seated. And then—BOOM!
Well, not a real boom—just the front door slamming. And Mom's voice shouting: – I get it now! You don't want to hear me.
Erich didn't care what she meant. What mattered was—she hadn't seen him. One less obstacle. The closing door rattled the potted plants by the entrance, and their leaves waved goodbye before the draft died down. Silence returned.
Last stair —done. Erich grabbed the railing and slipped behind the staircase's base. From there, he peeked up, taking in every detail. A real spy always remembers the little things. Otherwise, he ain't a real agent!
In the middle of the living room stood another table, this one covered in papers, drawings, and photos (he couldn't make out the images from that far). One of the photos caught his dad's attention, and he reached for it, still seated, holding it up for a closer look.
That did it. Curiosity overrode caution, and the little sneak crept closer. One crouching step at a time.
And then—a loud slam upstairs! So loud, Dad jolted to his feet and looked around wildly. And then—he saw him.
The boy's mouth fell open in a silent scream. His dad's face—there were no eyes, no mouth, no nose—just this stretched, smooth sheet of skin where all his features should've been! And yet, somehow, even without eyes, Dad was looking straight at him.
In his hand was a photo—of Erich. Taken after baseball practice. He was holding a bat, all proud and sweaty, grinning for the camera.
Dad took one tiny step toward him. And the stealth master? He bolted.
Man, he ran like the wind! The stairs blurred behind him, and soon he was dashing toward his room—no, Grandma's room! And there she was, standing with her arms folded, looking mighty pissed. But honestly? That was the least scary thing he'd seen today.
– What's wrong with you? Why you running around like a maniac?
Grandma... The boy buried his face in her worn robe, the one with stars stitched into the navy fabric, and tried to wrap his arms around her whole body. Her sharp ocean-blue eyes stared down at him.
And that wart... the one with the long hair poking out of it...
He was shaking like mad, and she—maybe for the first time ever—didn't scold him. She just stroked his messy head and muttered gently:
Don't be scared, It's over now. But oh, how wrong she was...
Erich pulled back a little, eyes wide, and managed to whisper:
No, It's not over. There's a monster down there!
Episode 1. The Shores of Suruga Bay.
The well-trodden road, worn down by generations of travelers, was gradually handing over the reins to its wilder sister—one who never took orders from anyone and had no desire to change her primeval ways to suit anyone's needs or demands. And in her rebellious moods, she was thoroughly aided by good old autumn, bringing along her usual entourage of rain, muck, and other unpleasant companions that polite society never seemed to appreciate—no matter the country.
But nature, used to everything, didn't complain. In fact, it thrived in such conditions. The trees bowed their heads in sync with the gusts of salty ocean wind, the grass rustled and leaned toward its mother, the earth, and the majestic, ever-near Mount Fuji hid itself in twisting veils of mist.
As for the animals—well, they weren't big fans of this kind of weather. They always preferred the warmth that matched their spirit. But still, they learned to adapt to the changes year after year. So no one would've been too surprised to see a grey dove darting past here, or a wood pigeon flapping off into the distance. These creatures were just part of the regular rhythm of things—running, hopping, flying with as much energy as they did in warmer times. Though, truth be told, they were already quietly prepping for the winter ahead.
A black flycatcher perched on its usual spot—a thin lantana branch that served as her favorite lookout—and twisted her head left and right. What was she watching? Who could say—and who would even care to ask?
But that lack of interest didn't bother her much. Lately, something new had caught her attention: a growling metal beast speeding along its muddy path. It moved even faster than she could. And maybe that stung a little, because she puffed up her long, sharp tail and narrowed her beady little eyes, glowing faintly blue in the light.
Right here, right now, she was getting ready to compete! She spread her wings and shot off—flying straight at that strange creature whose middle was completely see-through. Across its glassy face— maybe its muzzle?—big rubbery lashes moved up and down, swiping raindrops off the sky. But the flycatcher wasn't scared. She was on a mission to meet this odd beast head-on…
What the hell is this crap?! – yelled the driver, slamming her foot on the brake and jerking her car to a A feisty little bird had just zipped right past her windshield, and the young woman jumped in her seat, nearly launching herself out of it—but the seatbelt harness held her firmly in place.
Everything around her was grating on her nerves: the endless drizzle, the disgusting slush under the tires, the desolate landscape that only highlighted (in her opinion) how primitive this place was. And now this suicidal bird had apparently decided to end it all by hurling itself at a moving vehicle.
Honestly, the girl didn't give a damn about feathered things—but she really didn't want her windshield smeared with guts and bird blood. Plus, there was that old fear, planted way back in childhood: -Thou shalt not kill living things-—a deeply ingrained, guilt-soaked terror that had no place in the mind of a grown woman. Yet here it was, clinging like fog on the glass.
So yeah, the American girl was extremely relieved that the bird survived. She figured it was a good time to pull over anyway and take a breather. Stepping out of the car, she pulled her parka's hood tighter around her face, flicked her lighter, and lit a slim cigarette with a flavored capsule. Time to call someone who actually mattered.
One ring. Then another.
Roaming kicked in smoothly, and Louisa quickly got through. She was genuinely happy to hear a real, human voice. For the past hour she'd been grumbling at the void—and the void, as we know, is not the best conversationalist. Sure, swearing helps let off steam, but when that steam literally fogs up your windshield and you can't see a damn thing, maybe it's time to give your mouth a rest.
Imani finally picked up. Thank God. Now she could vent. Rant. Rip the whole world a new one.
Babe, sorry to bug I know it's late there and you've got work tomorrow. I wouldn't call unless this damn road was driving me crazy. Talk to me for a bit, yeah?
On the other end came the exhausted voice of Louisa's girlfriend, who did in fact sound completely drained.
Hey there, little I'm all good—go ahead, I'm listening. Are you almost there? Turn right, please. In one hundred meters, take a – Louisa mimicked the robotic tone of her GPS, and both of them cracked up. Then the traveler groaned: That's my only companion right now. Just me and that thing for three hours straight! This weather, this endless drive—it's driving me nuts.
How much longer? – Imani asked About twenty minutes, tops. I pulled over to smoke and call you. I need a break. I've got a meeting in a couple days with some potential distributors, so I'm hoping he lets me crash for a I really don't want to be going back and forth constantly.
A sudden gust of wind drowned out Imani's next words, and Louisa shoved her phone right up to her ear, shouting:
What?! I can't hear—say that again?
Do you thi… it'll wor… with the distri…? – The wind was too loud, breaking up the But Louisa got the gist and answered: Not sure But either way, Japan's a brand-new market for us. Loads of potential buyers. Which means a whole lotta crispy green bills and a sweeter life. – She took a drag and chuckled. – Didn't I promise to take you to Estonia? And who's the wish-fulfilling queen around here, huh?
The connection improved, and Imani's giggle came through clearly:
Of course, you. Think he's gonna take it well?
Louise dreaded that question. She had asked it of herself countless times—back at home, in the cab to the airport, aboard the airliner, and so on. She hadn't seen him in years, not since he had taken off for the Land of the Rising Sun with part of the money from the sale of their parents' house—and never came back.
The silence dragged on, and Imani, truly someone close to her, decided not to torture her beloved's heart any longer and gently changed the subject:
You have enough food and everything else?
More than I bought a whole bunch of local delicacies at the supermarket, so we'll have plenty to eat. Don't worry. Although, I did rent a regular Nissan hatchback with car sharing, and I clearly should've gone for an SUV, given the terrain out here… whatever. That's in the past. Are you doing okay?
Top of the world, boss! Swear on our evil little dog Limba! – Imani blurted out, and now it was the traveler's turn to laugh at her companion's silly Her spirits were gradually lifting, and that meant it was time to say goodbye.
Stay in touch the whole time, got it? – said Imani tenderly, despite being so far
Roger – Louise saluted, flicked her cigarette to the ground, crushed it with a vengeance under her boot, and then watched the stoat darting off into the distance before heading back into the car.
Her timing turned out to be spot-on. Twenty-two minutes later, she reached the top of a gentle hill dotted with sparse vegetation, like a cap perched on the head of an endless body made of wet sand.
This winding mass couldn't exactly complain about bad weather the way the rest of the world could—it was taking a permanent icy shower. The ocean lapped at it with rolling waves, stroking and scratching that soaked belly with care and tenderness.
Louise felt it all in her heart and soul, but poetic metaphors were the last thing on her mind at the moment. Right now, all she wanted was to crawl into a warm den and dry off. No one could blame her: reality was brutally simple—get to point B and hope to not head back to point A tonight or tomorrow, praying she'd be taken in.
After taking care of little things like setting the alarm and all that, she took a deep breath of the pure, cold air and headed toward the wooden staircase built into the hill. Though it didn't look brand new, you could tell it had been well maintained—worn parts replaced lovingly. Going down the steps was a real pleasure.
Finally reaching the bottom, she jumped onto the soft surface and trudged into the shifting sands, her heavy boots sinking with every step. It wasn't easy walking, but the sight of a small stone house with a classic triangular roof and chimney gave her the will to push forward. As she squinted, she spotted a lone figure near the house, hammering something into place.
Yes, that was him!
Louise, faking cheerful excitement, waved her arms, trying to get his attention—Look, I'm here! Right here! And the man did notice her, pausing his work, but that was it. No reaction beyond that.
Getting no wave in return, Louise cursed herself, the lousy weather, and this cursed land—and picked up the pace. The shrill cries of seagulls flying in a V over the water screeched in her ears, gratingly obnoxious. Add those damn birds to the list of curses.
The closer she got to the house, the clearer his outline became—he looked lean and wiry now. Yeah, he'd lost a ton of weight and gotten taller over the years. Only one thing hadn't changed—his hunched shoulders, like he was bracing for someone to leap out and attack him at any moment.
The guy was wearing a raincoat with a wide hood now flowing behind him like a cloak, along with tall rubber boots. His light reddish-blond hair was neatly combed to the side, with early gray streaks adding a third color to his hairstyle. As for his face… well, it was a face. Nothing special, really.
Louise wouldn't call him attractive, not quite. A high forehead, an old scar running down his right cheek, a small and not particularly firm chin with a dimple that looked… like, well, a butt. His cheekbones seemed to cut through his thin, parchment-like skin, and the whole face looked pretty worn out.
But his eyes! That's what truly stood out. Those green eyes with a vibrant lime tint—unfortunately framed by sparse lashes. And even there, something was off. That constant fear in his gaze, always shifting, scanning for a safe place to hide.
Reaching a metal pole with crossbars—clearly a laundry line in warmer seasons—Louise dropped her heavy bags and said:
That face rings a bell… could it be my grown-up brother, the one I only ever see in the occasional photo he sends?
Her sarcastic tone didn't land. He stood there frowning, holding a big hammer. So, not yet a guest, just a passerby, she switched tactics to -good cop- mode:
Okay, I see you're in sync with this gloomy day, so… Long time no see, Erich.
He gave a curt nod and gestured toward his house. A mountain fell from Louise's shoulders—hell, the whole hill collapsed. She grabbed her stuff again and marched to the entrance, a veneered door with a shiny handle. She kicked off her not-so-clean shoes and slipped inside in just her socks.
The door shut behind her, sealing off the noisy world from this bachelor's den. You couldn't call her brother a neat freak (or fault him for not being one), but everything he needed was in its place: tools, diving gear, household stuff. Near the entrance were all kinds of fishing gear, some pallets, a crumpled boat panel, and lots of footwear—basic sneakers and traditional zōri sandals.
They moved into a small kitchen with a gas stove, a yellow fridge, and a table covered with a cloth embroidered in branching symbols. Noticing them, Louise tried to start some small talk—forgetting again that etiquette here didn't exactly follow the usual rules.
These symbols are – She ran her hand over the embroidery. – What do they mean?
The guy, now stripped of his outdoor gear and dressed only in a knitted jumper and black sweatpants, grumbled:
– That you're not welcome here.
So that's how it is! She sort of expected something like this on her way here, but not that it would come out so abruptly, so bluntly—and painfully. Still, when you really think about it, what's there to be surprised about?
Years of isolation didn't exactly encourage basic manners in this recluse, who also happened to be her brother. So there was no need to judge him too harshly—maybe he just deserved a little pity. Which is exactly what she offered him, switching to the sweetest tone she could manage:
You've grown up so much, Big You've really become a man. If Grandma could see you now, she'd be proud and happy.
It worked. The mention of their grandmother turned out to be just the softener she'd hoped for. As far as she remembered, Erich had loved the old lady dearly—she'd nearly talked him out of moving to Japan back in the day. So, with a loud sniff through his nose, he turned toward the cupboards and started rummaging around for tea and a sugar scoop.
Your flattery Alright, let's say I'm willing to listen. Why did you come here? Encouraged by her success, Louise rushed into a flurry of words, saying how she really, really
wanted to see her little brother, who had completely forgotten about her despite all the invitations to
visit back in Florida, to go to theme parks—and he hadn't even reacted when she and Imani got married. And Imani, by the way, really wanted to get to know him better too, since they'd never met in person—aside from two brief FaceTime calls.
And so, Louise had taken the initiative into her own tiny hands, bought tickets to Japan, to Honshu island, where her reclusive brother lived. She'd come for a couple of weeks, so they'd have plenty
of time to catch up, explore the local sights, take a breezy road trip and, of course, reconnect after all those long years apart.
She then casually and almost reluctantly mentioned a business meeting she had in Shizuoka, but insisted it wasn't important—because the real reason for her trip was, of course, him. Her dear and beloved brother.
Having blurted all that out in one breath, she sucked the lost air back in and now stared wide-eyed at her brother, waiting for his reaction. But it was hard to read anything on Erich's face—his expressions seemed to range from very grim to just plain grim.
His probing gaze—those eyes that occasionally stopped looking frightened—glided across her supposedly innocent face. But all he did was turn to the stove and set a teapot with a bent handle onto one of the burners.
What a jackass. How could he be like this?
Maybe thoughts do become reality sometimes, because after a brief silence, the master of the house finally spoke. Though his words had little to do with her outpouring. He asked a crucial question:
You take sugar or sweetener? Two spoons of sugar, please. And also—turn around and tell me what's wrong between us. He twisted the gas valve shut, then pulled out an ancient tea set, probably brought over from the
U.S. and once owned by their grandmother, and began laying out the dishes on the table. Along the way, he added:
Is seeing me really more important than closing a deal… Energy drinks! I manage a company that makes energy But my job's not the point here—I honestly just wanted to see you!
Louise gently moved her hands closer to his, but he yanked his away and told her—in a tone that wasn't exactly a suggestion—to go and thoroughly wash her hands. It was fair enough—she really did feel disheveled. So she headed into the bathroom, a simple setup with a toilet, sink, and shower stall. She washed her face, combed her hair, and stared at her tired reflection in the mirror. Pulling down one eyelid, she frowned at the red veins in her eyes and the dark circles underneath.
Mmm… yeah… I really need some rest, and here I am talking in circles like a fool. – She complained to her mirror image, and got an Not from the glass, though, but from the hallway: You wouldn't be having these conversations if you hadn't come So that's on you. Your choice, your fault.
Louise flung the door open and saw Erich standing just outside, drying a washed teacup with a towel.
Were you eavesdropping on me? – She hissed, feeling incredibly – Don't you think that's a little… off? My house, my rules, right? – He shot back, and without meeting her gaze, pressed harder, – I'm asking you again: why are you really here? Be Otherwise, there's nothing left for us to talk about.
Another stupid trait of her brother's — one she'd remembered since they were kids. He took any lie directed at him way too personally. And considering that lying is basically the cornerstone of
modern civilization, it was no surprise he'd become a hermit. Well — not just because of that, of course. The incident was still the main reason.
But this? Definitely the pepper on an already inedible dish.
She stood straight, fixing her gaze — which wasn't that hard, since her brother clearly hated direct eye contact — and said bluntly:
I came here on business. And meeting you — that's a bonus story I thought we could write together. Don't you think so? Is that what you wanted? – She snapped, working herself up into a fake rage. – You pushed me into it! I told you the whole truth. Can I warm up now, at least?
Round won.
Erich lost his nerve almost instantly and looked just like the scared little kid she remembered. So she brushed past him like it was nothing and headed toward the kitchen.
The bossy-mom voice worked way better than persuasion or explanation ever could.
As soon as she sat down at the table, the master of the house took the seat next to her and started pouring tea. Louise breathed in the deep aroma and gave a satisfied grunt, which brought a tiny smile to her brother's face. Clearly, he appreciated it, because he said:
Sencha's my favorite I really recommend it. I haven't been to the store in a few days, though, so there's nothing fancy to offer.
Louise patted the bags beside her and picked one up onto her lap.
Got it covered. Let's keep things simple and stick with regular custard I'm betting you haven't had those in ages.
For the next ten or fifteen minutes, they ate in silence, washing down the treat with fragrant tea. Then Louise asked for an ashtray.
Smoke outside, okay? I like the air fresh in Well, fine. Killjoy. I'll go later anyway.
You still need some pushing, the American thought.
Could we at least make it a little warmer? It's chilly in
Her brother stood up and flipped the switch on the gas heater. A thin blue flame lit up, and the air gradually filled with warmth — not just in temperature, but in atmosphere too. Erich was even the one to start the next conversation:
I appreciate that you finally chose to be honest with If you hadn't told the truth, I would've asked you to leave. So, good timing — and good choice.
Fair No use hiding it. – the schemer agreed.
Her brother nodded, swirling a hand over the steam rising from his teacup.
I'm not saying we'll manage to build something we never had in the first place. But you can stay here for the time you're in Japan. My only condition... …don't go into the locked room with the sacrificial altar and ten – Louise growled in a spooky voice. Then shuddered, realizing her brother hadn't even twitched in amusement. With dead seriousness, he replied: Much simpler than Just talk less. You're not used to my kind of exotic food yet, right? Well, excessive conversation feels exotic to me. Let's ease into this new reality together.
She didn't have much choice but to agree to the terms.
Seeing her nod, Erich relaxed his tone a little and even asked how Imani was doing.
Why would you care? – Louise shot back without thinking, then instantly regretted Still too early for that kind of sass. But to her surprise, her brother looked completely satisfied with the answer. He actually smiled this time and muttered into the table:
But that is the polite thing to ask in your society, isn't it?
Wait a second — did that dry stick of a man just use sarcasm? Incredible.
Louise yawned and covered her mouth with her hand, suggesting they pick things back up after she caught a little nap. The heavy days behind her were starting to hit hard.
Erich seemed genuinely happy at the prospect of a short break from her company, so he showed her to one of the two small rooms in the house. It was all very spartan: a bed, a nightstand with a lamp attached, a crooked chair, and a clunky old wardrobe. A small rug with tassels at the corners coiled along the floor.
You really are a fan of minimalism, huh? – Louise said with a smirk, dropping her purse on the wobbly chair.
Her host just shrugged and asked where her bags were.
In the I couldn't carry everything myself. – She paused, expecting him to offer help. When he didn't, she muttered: Fine, I'll get them No thieves around here, I hope? He snorted, raking a hand through his hair. There are no people
For some reason, that line — which he thought was funny — hit her the wrong way. She just stared at him in silence, full of quiet suspicion. To break the tension, she gave a little cough and acted like she was deeply invested in her purse. She pulled out her wireless earphones, phone, and the rest of her stuff.
Erich stood frozen, clearly not sure what to do next. So Louise skipped the subtle hints and just asked him to leave. He snapped back to reality and bolted out of the room.