Year 985 – Heian-Kyō, Japan

Today I suffered those hallucinations again. It’s true that I began earning my reputation as a writer by telling frightening stories about those masked beings—stories that made my books and poems spread throughout the empire. At first, I thought my curiosity had turned into obsession; but I’m not mad, nor am I the liar so many claim I am.

Today, on my way home, I noticed I was being followed. I passed by a woman, and I swear she looked at me, though I couldn’t see her face beneath the long black hair that covered it. I felt she was a woman of unimaginable beauty. She watched me carefully, almost analytically—and before I realized it, that familiar feeling returned.

I felt hands gripping my shoulders, and a voice whispered in my ear, telling me to go on, not to be afraid, that everything would be all right… Fortunately, I managed to react in time thanks to a passing carriage that jolted me out of the trance. By the time I came to my senses, half of my body was already submerged in the river.

It’s the third time in just a few weeks that I’ve nearly lost my life. I truly believe all the stories my ancestors told were real. I’m certain those damned spirits are looking for me—and that the river woman is one of the Shinigami who stalk me from the shadows.

I do not know what they want from me, but I’d better walk with my eyes wide open.