Ereshan clutched the stone tightly in his palm as he made his way down the dusty village path, the weight of unseen eyes prickling at his back. Whispers curled like smoke from the small gathering that had watched him at the hill, yet as he walked, the fear that had hung thickly in the air seemed to vanish. The villagers went about their evening as if nothing had happened—feeding livestock, drawing water from the well, calling their children in from the fields. No angry cries, no wary glances.
Maybe it's nothing, Ereshan thought, his thumb unconsciously tracing the strange, warm surface of the stone. When he reached the crooked wooden steps of his home, the scent of grilled fish and sweet herbs greeted him. The door was open, swaying gently with the evening breeze. He stepped inside. "Kaa-san, I'm home," he called, trying to steady his voice.
From the simple kitchen, his mother looked up with a bright smile. Her name was Sayuri—a woman in her late forties, yet time seemed to move gently around her. The fine lines at the corners of her eyes only deepened her beauty, and her hair, long and dark as river water, was tied back loosely with a faded ribbon. She wore a simple farmer's kimono, sleeves rolled up, her hands deftly preparing dinner with the grace of someone who belonged to the land itself.
"Where have you been all day, Ereshan?" Sayuri asked, not unkindly, but with a mother's quiet edge of worry. She wiped her hands on a cloth, glancing at him with eyes like calm, deep ponds. "I was about to send Daiki to look for you."
Ereshan slumped lazily onto the worn tatami mat near the low dining table, kicking off his sandals without ceremony. He pulled the stone from his pocket, placing it on the table with a soft thud between them.
"They were scared of this," he said, nodding toward the small, smooth rock. "Everyone just... froze when I picked it up. Then they acted like nothing happened. It's weird, right?"
Sayuri leaned over, wiping her hands again on the cloth before picking up the stone. She turned it over in her fingers, examining it from every angle. Her brow furrowed slightly, but there was no flicker of recognition or fear in her eyes.
To her, it was just a stone—grey and unremarkable, warmed only by the heat of her son's hands. She set it back down carefully, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "You and your imagination," she said with a soft chuckle, though there was no cruelty in it—only that patient warmth mothers saved for boys who still believed in monsters behind the trees.
"It's probably just another one of those old village legends," Sayuri continued, reaching for the steaming pot over the fire. "You know how stories grow larger with each telling. A pebble becomes a jewel, a crow becomes a spirit, and before you know it, the whole village thinks the world's ending."
She ladled rice into two bowls, her voice light and unconcerned. "Eat first. Then you can tell me all about the haunted rock that scared grown men."
Ereshan stared at the stone, his stomach grumbling at the smell of miso and grilled fish, but a quiet unease crawled at the back of his mind. The stone hadn't looked special. It hadn't even felt special. But when he held it... something inside him stirred, like a whisper too soft to hear yet impossible to ignore.
But in the end, hunger won. Ereshan picked up his chopsticks and ate heartily, shoving mouthfuls of rice and miso into his mouth, the strange stone forgotten for a while as warmth and fullness settled into his belly.
Sayuri smiled faintly as she watched him, that tired but content look mothers wore when their sons, no matter how strange, came home safe and sound.
When the bowls were emptied and the fire had burned low, Ereshan stood up, grabbing the stone again. It felt heavier now—or maybe that was just in his mind. "I'm just gonna get rid of it," he muttered, half to himself.
Sayuri only hummed in reply, already beginning to clean up, not bothering to turn around. Ereshan stepped outside into the cool night. The wind smelled of damp earth and woodsmoke, and the stars blinked lazily overhead.
He walked a little past the porch, standing where the field opened up beyond their small home. He gripped the stone tightly, pulling his arm back, ready to hurl it as far away as he could. But...
Just as his muscles tensed to throw, something in him faltered. He stared at the stone. It was just a stone. And yet, a whisper, too soft to be a voice, seemed to brush against the edge of his thoughts. Ereshan lowered his arm. He hesitated only a moment longer, then turned back toward the house.
Without a word, without looking back at the fields, he quietly slipped into the house, past the dying fire, and into his small room. He set the stone carefully on the windowsill, where the moonlight could touch it. Then he lay back on his futon, staring up at the wooden ceiling, listening to the night sounds, feeling the strange thrum beneath his skin.
The door slid open with a soft rasp. Sayuri stood there, a woven shawl draped over her shoulders, her long dark hair tied loosely at the nape of her neck. In the dim light, the soft lines around her eyes and mouth made her seem both wise and gently worn by the years. "You're still thinking about it, aren't you?" she asked, stepping into the room. Her voice was low, almost a whisper, as if afraid to wake the spirits of the night.
Ereshan didn't answer at first. He just stared at the stone on the windowsill, feeling its silent pull. Sayuri knelt beside him, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She gazed at the stone too, but there was no fear in her eyes, only understanding.
"Listen, Ereshan," she said, her voice steady, "Ashihara no Nakatsukuni... this land we live in... it's special. A small island, yes, but a blessed one. Here, humans and yokai have walked side by side for longer than any of us can remember. Some of us see them every day. Some... may never see them at all."
She paused, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from her son's forehead. "But just because we don't always see the spirits, or understand the things they leave behind, doesn't mean we should fear them," she continued. "Most of the time, they mean no harm. They live their lives, just like we live ours."
She smiled softly, the faintest crease in her cheeks. "So you shouldn't let the villagers' fear weigh on your heart. They've forgotten what it means to share this world. You don't need to be afraid of a stone. Or the stories that cling to it."
Ereshan looked up at her, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. Outside, the wind rustled the tall grass, carrying with it the scent of coming rain. Sayuri gave his hand a gentle squeeze before rising to her feet. "Get some sleep," she said. "The morning always brings clearer thoughts."
Ereshan nodded slowly, the weight of Sayuri's words settling in his heart. He lay back on the thin mat, pulling the rough blanket up to his chest. The stone rested quietly on the windowsill, catching a sliver of moonlight. Slowly, his breathing evened out, and the pull of sleep overcame him.
He drifted into dreams almost immediately. Strange visions swirled before him—vast, endless seas reflecting twin moons, misty forests where massive trees whispered ancient songs, temples suspended among stars, and mountains that bled rivers of fire.
Places he had never seen, could not name, yet somehow felt painfully familiar, like a melody half-remembered. Then, scenes shifted without warning. The stars fell. The sea blackened. The mountains crumbled into ash. Darkness swallowed everything.
A sudden chill pierced his dream, sharp as a blade. In the dream, Ereshan found himself back in his own room. The walls trembled, the wooden floor cracked beneath unseen pressure. The air grew thick, suffocating.
Then—A shadow dropped from the windowsill, its body a rippling mass of smoke and blackened muscle. Two eyes flared in the darkness, red as molten embers, burning with malice.
Before Ereshan could move, before he could even scream, the thing lunged—Straight past him.
It pounced upon Sayuri, who had returned to check on him, unaware. Ereshan watched in frozen horror as the creature tore into her with savage claws and gnashing fangs, ripping her delicate frame apart as easily as tearing rice paper. Her scream was a choked gasp, lost beneath the gurgle of blood.
Ereshan jolted awake, his body slick with cold sweat. He gasped for air, clutching the blanket tightly to his chest as he darted his eyes around the darkened room.
Nothing. Only the familiar creak of the old wooden beams overhead and the rhythmic drum of rain battering the roof. A rumble of thunder rolled across the sky, shaking the house gently.
He pressed a trembling hand against his chest, feeling the hammering of his heart slowly begin to settle. "It was just a dream..." he whispered hoarsely to himself.
Just a nightmare. No blood. No shadows. No monster. Sayuri was safe in the next room, probably asleep by now after their talk. Ereshan exhaled slowly, his breath misting faintly in the cold night air.
He glanced once at the window where the stone still sat, faintly glistening under the stormy light. He shook his head and lay back down, pulling the blanket over his head like he used to do as a small boy.
But outside... Beyond the misted glass, in the rain-soaked darkness. Two pairs of red, burning eyes stared at Ereshan's house.