Cursed Land Chapter 1 Yukako 2

Then, the hectic preparations for the move began. My husband handled the moving procedures at his company, and the application for travel expenses was completed without any issues. While my husband was at work, I went to the ward offices of both our current and new residences to submit our moving-out and moving-in notifications, and took care of changing our addresses at financial institutions and other places. It took about two days to finish everything.

Since it was impossible for me, four months pregnant, to handle the moving preparations alone, I begged my husband to choose a plan where the moving company would do everything. Although it cost more, it made things much easier on both my mind and body.

After finishing the cleaning of the apartment where we had lived for five years, I had my friend Ami come over, and she drove me to my husband's parents' house, which would be our new home.

Ami is a colleague from the company where I used to work. Even after I got pregnant and quit, we have kept in touch. We are close enough to be called best friends, and I feel like I can talk to her about anything.

“What kind of house is your new place?”

I hesitated to answer Ami's question honestly, but I told her the truth.

“It’s old. It feels like a house in the countryside. It’s a bit dark, I think, probably because there isn't much lighting.”

“Why don't you renovate it?”

I agreed with Ami's suggestion for a moment, but my husband's face immediately came to mind.

“We aren't going to be living there that long, and I don't know if Toshiaki would allow it.”

Then, Ami laughed as if teasing me.

“What? Aren't you two happy now that you finally have a baby on the way? I’m sure your husband would be happy to listen to what you have to say, right?”

I felt disappointed in my heart, realizing she didn't understand my husband. I hadn't noticed it until we got married, but Toshiaki, whom I thought was a strong and reliable man, was actually self-centered, stubborn, and decided everything on his own. This move was one of those things. When we were first married, I used to voice my opinions, but the result was always that he would deliberately brush them off or ignore them.

“It’s already been decided.”

Ever since I started feeling exhausted from talking back or expressing my opinions to my husband, I learned to hold it in and swallow my sighs. I still don't know if I should tell Ami about this. It might be better to act like a happy couple so I don't cause her unnecessary worry. I smiled faintly and listed as many good things about our new life as I could think of.

“The people in the Adachino neighborhood association are kind, and even though I say it's the countryside, it's not that rural. There's a new residential area nearby, there's a convenience store, and there's a supermarket within walking distance.”

Hearing that, Ami laughed.

“Can you really count those as perks? What about you, Yukako? The hospital is further away now, isn't it?”

That was something I was worried about too. I had to change all my regular doctors. It takes at least thirty minutes by car to get to the general hospital with an obstetrics and gynecology department.

“You're staying over tonight, right?”

Sorry. I have plans tomorrow, so I have to head back after we celebrate the move today.

You won't be able to meet Toshia-san, then.

I don't need to meet him. I see his face every day at the office, so maybe next time.

I felt a little disappointed, but there was no point in being selfish. Considering the train connections, I couldn't really ask her to stay, as the last train near my parents' house was already approaching.

When I arrived at my parents' house in Yachi, the moving company's truck was already parked alongside the house.

It was a spacious one-story house with 4 bedrooms, a living room, a dining room, and a kitchen, including a Buddhist altar room. There was a small garden and a parking space on the property. Just looking at the exterior, it felt so old that I couldn't tell when it had been built. The outer walls were made of charred cedar boards, and the same type of wood was used for the ceilings and floors inside. Entering from the entrance, you immediately step into the living room. To the left of the living room is the kitchen and other water areas, and to the right is a room leading to the bedroom and the veranda. All three rooms were newly tatami-matted, and the partitions were yukimi-shoji (sliding doors with frosted glass) to let in sunlight. While the wood looked the same, the hallways and the layout of each room made it clear that it had been renovated and expanded several times. The oldest-looking room was the Buddhist altar room, where the tatami mats, which hadn't been replaced, had turned yellow and lacked the fragrant scent of rush grass. When closed off on three sides by sliding doors, the only thing to rely on was the light from the electric lamp.

However, the thing that bothered me most after moving in was the mold. Had there been this much mold during the funeral? Not a single person had noticed. Just two or three days after the funeral, black mold had grown on the hallway floorboards and tatami mats.

The movers roughly cleaned up and set up the furniture. Feeling embarrassed in front of both the movers and Ami, thinking they might assume I hadn't even cleaned beforehand, Yukako waited for the movers to finish their work and leave.

The mold is terrible, isn't it?

As expected, the mold was so bad that even Ami could notice it. The movers didn't say anything, but they must have felt the same way.

It wasn't like this during the funeral.

I filled a bucket with water that I had set out for cleaning and tried to wipe the mold off the tatami in a panic. Ami stopped me.

You're supposed to dry-wipe tatami mold.

She gave me advice with her smartphone in one hand. It seemed Yukako was so flustered that she had forgotten to search for cleaning methods on her phone.

Should we go buy some tools at the home center and at least make it so you can sleep?

Yeah, that sounds good.

Encouraged by Ami's positive words, Yukako nodded.

We bought some reward cakes at a Western-style confectionery shop along the road to the home center, and thanks to cleaning together after we got back, the mold was somewhat better, and we were finally able to have a small party. By the time the sun set, Yukako drove her car and took Ami to the nearest station.

Call me if anything happens.

Yukako returned a smile at her reliable friend's words.

"Understood."

After waving her hand and watching Ami pass through the ticket gate, Yukako let out a long sigh. She felt drained by a mix of exhaustion and relief. However, anxiety immediately began to sprout. Once she returned to that house, she would have to spend some time alone. The thought of being in that space all by herself was depressing. Before she knew it, she found herself thinking that way for some reason. The house, which had been somewhat bright during the day, would be wrapped in quiet darkness by the time the sun set, and she couldn't help but have the unpleasant imagination that her mother-in-law's corpse was still there.

She entered the supermarket adjacent to the station and bought a television program magazine at the magazine corner. While she was at it, she bought a bento box, drinks, and ingredients for tomorrow's breakfast, deciding that her husband would just have to make do with a bento box for today.

She felt that if she turned on the television, the silence and darkness would retreat. She found herself wishing for that strongly. She felt that the darkness wasn't creeping in from the outside, but rather coming from the Buddhist altar room at the center of the house.

That's right, she was uncomfortable with that Buddhist altar room. On the night of the wake, she had been left alone with her mother-in-law in the dim room. Following the instruction that a pregnant woman should stay seated, she had stayed in the room with her mother-in-law, though she felt guilty. Veins were visible on her dead mother-in-law's bloodless, pale skin. A blue-black mark remained on her neck, a painful remnant of her suicide. Countless Japanese dolls were lined up tightly in the alcove, sandwiching her mother-in-law. The magnificent black and gold Buddhist altar surely housed the memorial tablets of the Ino family's ancestors. Unlike most old houses, there was no portrait of the deceased. That was why she didn't even know the face of her father-in-law, who she heard had passed away. Staring at the gaunt face of the old woman, she remembered vaguely thinking that she felt her mother-in-law was still in her sixties.

She parked the car on the property and entered the dark house with the lights off. As if afraid of the darkness, she hurriedly turned on the entrance light. With a click, the light from the bulb-colored fluorescent lamp illuminated the area. Despite the warm hue, she felt the cold shadow lurking throughout the house even more. The damp air brushed against her skin. It was indeed musty. She would have to endure this smell for a while. She might as well consult her husband about renovating at least the tatami mats and the floorboards.

For some reason, the air inside the house felt heavy. Trying to convince herself it was just the humidity, she entered the living room where she had cleaned with Ami. Closing the yukimi shoji screens, the smell of mold was slightly mitigated. As she ran the air purifier at full power, an image of the mold spores floating in the air being sucked in came to her mind.

She placed the plastic bag on the low table that had originally been in the house and took out the television magazine from the bag. Sitting sideways on the tatami, she wondered if a floor cushion would be more comfortable than a cushion. She picked up the remote and chose a comedy show to sweep away the heavy air. She laughed lightly while watching the funny manzai on TV. The sound of her own voice echoing in the room felt chilling, so Yukako turned up the volume on the TV to try and dispel her sense of loneliness.

Suddenly, she looked up at the wall clock, and the hands were pointing at eight o'clock. Usually, her husband wouldn't be home at this hour. But for today, she wanted him to come home early.

It was three years ago that her husband started coming home late. They couldn't have children, her husband was irritable, and Yukako herself was emotionally unstable as she had just started fertility treatment. She knew her husband was only reluctantly going along with the fertility treatment because he wanted children. He would sometimes implicitly blame her for not being able to conceive. Asking him to have sex according to her ovulation day was unbearable for Yukako. She sometimes harbored unspoken feelings toward her husband, who wanted children but wasn't cooperative. She wanted to reproach him, saying that a child couldn't be made by her efforts alone.

Even after they had a child, her husband's nights were late. There were times when he would stay overnight at the company and not come home at all. On his days off, he wouldn't show any appreciation for his family and would just fiddle with his smartphone. Even when she spoke to him, he was absent-minded and wouldn't take her seriously. She didn't want to think about it, but she had unpleasant imaginings. She was afraid to put those imaginings into words. So she put off her anxiety and focused only on the child. However, if the same life as before continued in this new environment, what should she do? Her anxiety and resentment only continued to grow.

Suddenly, there was the sound of the entrance sliding door opening. Yukako stood up reflexively, opened the yukimi shoji, and stared at her husband illuminated by the light across the hallway.

"I'm home."

Even from a distance, she could see her husband's good mood. While she was happy he came home early, a doubt also arose as to why he was early today.

"You're early."

Unable to find any other words, the honest words slipped out of her throat.

"We just moved into our new home today, didn't we? Here, cake."

Her husband held up the cake box he was holding in his left hand.

"Ami was here today."

"Is that so?"

"I had cake with Ami."

Exchanging trivial words, we entered the living room where light was spilling out.

"Then, I guess you didn't need cake."

"That's not true. I didn't buy any for you, Toshimasa."

At that, my husband gave a wry smile.

"That's harsh. What about dinner?"

"Sorry, I bought a bento at the convenience store."

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