Like clockwork, my sisters were picked up by Uncle Seiji at around 7:15 and by the time it was nearly eight o’clock, it was my father’s turn to leave for work. One of father’s colleagues came to pick him up, or rather his boss, the police inspector whom my father had known the longest and was friends with.
That left me, my mother, and my grandparents to look after the house.
For my father, as a police assistant inspector his role was to provide field leadership and supervise patrol officers to ensure younger cops followed the law and procedures correctly. In Japan’s police system his rank is the first true supervisory officer position. They are the bridge between front-line constables and management.
Father loved and chose to stay on the patrol division, but due to pressure from his superiors, three years ago he got transferred to the public security division. According to him, it was the saddest time of his life because more than half his time was now spent on office work.
When I was little, he used to tell me stories of the arrest he and his team would make, albeit with a bit of embellishment. Now, because of the nature of his work, he was not allowed to say anything, in case it would put us at risk.
Once he headed off to his job, I realized there wasn’t much to do before I had to start packing. Which made me realize how much of my time had been taken up by school and club activities. Although I called Reika a few hours just before lunch, other than that, without anyone to talk to, I was simply waiting for the hours to pass.
I finished packing my things for the trip then got dressed in a simple long-sleeved, black turtleneck and jeans. I brought a light jacket just in case but there was no need for me to wear it yet so I placed it on top of my luggage.
After getting dressed, I still had around two hours before we leave for the station. Since there wasn’t anything for me to do, I decided to watch some TV to kill some time.
It was around 2:00 pm when my grandmother entered the living room. When she saw me, her face became a mix of resolve and resignation. It seemed like she had finally decided on something.
“Shizuku come with me for a second.”
“Okay?” I answered unsurely. “Where are we going baa-san?”
“Just follow,” was all she said. I turned off the TV and followed obediently.
She led me to the back of the house, past the kitchen and then outside. From the route we took, our destination could only be our shed.
“Uhm, baa-san,” I called to her trying to get her attention. “We are not allowed to go inside the shed.”
“Hmph, really?” my grandmother snorted. “The one who made that rule was me, and I made that on a whim.”
She turned to look at me, a playful expression on her face.
“But, haven’t you ever wondered what was inside?”
It’s not that the thought hadn’t crossed our minds, it’s just that even if we wanted to go in, we could not.
The shed, if it can be called a shed, is as large as a house. Constructed of bricks, it is 3 meters high, 9 meters across and 12 meters long. It has no windows and the only door that leads inside doesn’t seem to have any keyholes.
Our parents often reasoned that there were many things inside the shed that are considered antiques, but they were placed on shelves, and that if we carelessly went inside, we might break them.
But that hasn’t stopped my two sisters, more than once they tried to break in using some tools but were always stopped by the door. There wasn’t even any place to insert a key or even a handle. What was certain was that they were always closed shut.
From my perspective though, there was just no way to get inside.
“Uhm, yes,” I said as I looked at the heavy wooden doors that were still locked tight. “I would be lying if I said I wasn’t.”
“Well, it’s fine,” my grandmother said as she casually pushed one of the doors open. “Be honored, you are the fifth person I have allowed to enter.”
That caught me off guard. I knew my grandmother was strong, or more accurately skilled, but she could easily move those heavy looking doors with ease. But more than that, I wondered how did she even manage to open them. Maybe she used a magnet and the latch was on the inside?
“Come on, follow me,” my grandmother commanded after she stepped inside.
I was a bit excited and quickly followed. But also confused, what could be so important that my grandmother would call me here of all places?
Inside was dark, and the only light source was the open doorway. I could see how the inside was crammed so much if was suffocating. It was a maze of shelf after shelf that were loaded with boxes and crates. There were even large chests whose contents hadn’t probably seen the light of day in decades.
A rusty bin, half filled with tools, nuts, bolts, and screws was standing near the doorway. On one side, old rolled up carpets were propped up with what looked like leftover wood from construction.
As we went deeper, I saw more of the contents of the place. Old models of broken-down machinery of different kinds, quite a number of old fridges, a few heaters, two generators stacked on top of each other and unless I was mistaken a western style motorcycle.
“Baa-san why do we have all this stuff?” I asked curiously as my eyes fell on the bike.
“This one, belongs to a friend,” my grandmother said with a small melancholic smile. “As for the others, well—”
She gave the tank of the motorcycle a loving pat despite the thickness of the dust that were covering it.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
“Shouldn’t we dispose of at least some of it?” I asked as I covered my mouth. The dust gave the impression that it was alive and was trying to stick all over me.
Grandmother seemed unbothered by the amount of dirt and grime that was floating in the air. It was like they were avoiding her and chose to cling on to me for whatever reason.
“It’s fine,” she replied with a shrug. “We have a use for this space other than collecting dust. And besides, the current owner of this bike would collect it in time.”
“And the rest?”
“As I said, we have a use for this place,” grandmother replied slowly. “Shizuku, there are important items here, you may look at them as junk, but that is the idea.”
“What do you mean?”
Instead of answering she went to one of the fridges and opened it. I half expected a variety of insects to just spring out now that their hiding place was invaded, but the inside was clean. Even more surprising, there was a long wooden box propped up at the center.
“Uhm, is that?” I asked letting the question hang in the air.
I think I know what that thing is.
Grandmother smirked, took the box and opened it in front of me. Inside bundled with yellow and white cloth with intricate patterns, was a familiar object. A katana, from the end of the handle to the tip of the blade, was nearly a meter in length and a complete set.
All of the decorative mountings were there from the complete Tsuba (the hand guard), Menuki (the decorative ornaments under the wrapping for grip and aesthetics), Tsuka-ito (the silk or cotton cord wrapping the handle) even the Sageo (which was the cord attached to the saya, used to tie the sword to the belt)
“Baa-san?” I asked unsteadily at the sudden revelation. “Why do we have something like that here?”
It was weird to have something like a katana hidden inside an old rusty refrigerator. Even weirder was how pristine it was compared to the conditions it was being kept in.
“Shizuku,” grandmother said slowly, as she began to cover up the box. “How much do you know about our family?”
“Uh, I know as much as what I know now?” I responded, taken aback by the question. “And from your stories I guess?”
Grandmother stowed the box inside the fridge and closed it tight. She then looked at me, even with the dim light from outside, I could see her face, a mixture of emotions.
“That is good,” she said as she beckoned me to follow her once more. “Is what I’d like to say, but it seems for your sake—some exceptions—should be made.”
“What kind of exceptions are those?” I asked as I looked around and wondered how many strange things were hidden in this place.
“We shall talk inside,” she replied before walking into the maze of shelves.
Before I could voice my concern the door outside closed with a great ‘THUUUM!!’
“Baa-san!” I said after I recovered myself. By this point darkness had already settled over the room. “We’re locked in!”
“Yes, it’s supposed to do that,” she said sounding incredibly unconcerned.
“Supposed to do that!? Shouldn’t we get someone!? Aren’t we trapped here!?” I said in rapid succession.
“Calm yourself, just wait a bit,” her voice called out from the darkness. “Follow their directions.”
I was wondering what she meant when a soft green light came from above. Glow-in-the-dark porcelain koi fish were placed on the ceiling, and they looked like they were swimming in one direction. With a small measure of trepidation, I navigated through the maze to my grandmother.
When I reached her, we stood at what I thought was the end of the room. It was at the end of the long hallway that was made of shelves and boxes rather than solid walls. Even under the dim light provided by the glowing figurines above, I could see my grandmother’s face enjoying my reaction.
“Baa-san, is there any point in this?” I asked wondering what she could possibly want by doing all of this.
“There is,” she said, her voice a mix of playfulness and sincerity. “And it’s important.”
“If it’s important, then why am I the only one here?”
“We shall speak afterwards,” she said before carefully pressing her hand against the wall.
Thick bands of bluish-white light emanated from her hand. They quickly spread outward tracing the outline of a door that had been completely hidden before.
Under normal circumstances, it would have been impossible to detect any trace of the door or any kind of seam between it and the entrance. But as Grandmother withdrew her hand, the door moved back slightly then slid to the left, revealing a flight of stairs that led down into the dark.
On the side of the walls, I noticed another set of glowing koi fish figurines were lighting the way down.
“Baa-san, you’re starting to scare me,” I said, my voice trembling a bit. “Why do we have something like this!? And what was that!? Some sort of touch screen!?”
“Hahaha, don’t mind the small details! And no need to be scared, you’re with me!” she said, the confidence in her voice made me sigh a bit but at the same time, eased my frantic emotions.
We continued our way down and as with the front door, the door behind us also closed itself without anyone interacting with it.
With my father’s salary and with my grandfather teaching from our dojo, we were making enough for our needs and had a little extra we could put into savings. But I have never thought that we would be well off that we could afford automatic doors or touch panels.
Then again, my grandmother could afford to pay a cleaning company on a weekly basis, and she had a rather high-end looking katana lying around. And from what I could tell there may be multiple, so maybe she had a source of income.
Was she secretly a collector of antiques? Maybe she was buying and selling them? I know some people would pay a lot for such things.
After descending eight flights of stairs, we came to a stop in front of a heavy wooden door. I waited for a moment, thinking that grandmother would touch it again. This time though I heard my grandmother used a key to get it open.
With one hand she easily pushed it open and gestured me to go in first.
As I entered, I smelled the faint scent of lavender and chamomile. Inside was wide, as wide as the shed above. A low decorative stone shelf ran along the entire perimeter of the room. Rows of wooden cabinets and closets lined the bottom of the shelf.
On its top, a single unbroken line of candles was the room’s only source of light. Despite the number of candles burning however, this place felt—cold. Maybe because we were underground.
The entire room was mirrored, whatever was on the left was perfectly mirrored on the right.
Along both walls stretched murals of koi fish with scales white as the moon, swimming up through a towering waterfall. At the top of each waterfall stood a Torii gate, resolute and unwavering, guarding the threshold between something mortal and something far beyond.
The floor was made entirely of highly polished cedar wood, its surface smooth as though it had been tended to for generations. From the high ceiling, hung purple silk banners that displayed a white Mitsudomoe (三巴).
The banners faced the far end of the room. That part was adorned with a depiction of two magnificent dragons rising from a sea of clouds. Their long gold and green bodies twisting with lightning and wind as they soared through the heavens before meeting at the exact center of the room.
At the heart of the chamber, something out of place stood, a small wooden shrine, perched on a raised stone platform. The shrine bore the passage of time, its weathered wood told of an unspoken journey over the years but, it still stood defiant.
In front of the shrine was a chabudai (ちゃぶ台), a traditional Japanese low table, surrounded by four zaisu, one on each side.
After my grandmother closed the door behind us, we walked toward the table in companionable silence. As we drew closer, I noticed that the shrine was open and atop the altar rested a clear round mirror, a shintai (神体). There was also a small ornate box on top of the table.
To others, this place might seem like the perfect setting for some obscene, horrific ritual, yet strangely enough, I felt fine. The fact that I felt calm, walking into a place so out of the ordinary like this, however, was strange to me.
When we reached the table, she sat cross-legged instead of in seiza and gestured for me to take the seat opposite her. I obliged and when I sat down, we were now facing each other with the shrine to her left and to my right.
But, despite my weird lack of fear at how bizarre the situation was, something else caught my attention. Something weirder and more out of place than the room itself.
