Chapter 3
Part 4
She found Daichi in the old reading room, seated cross-legged beside a low lacquered table covered in books, scrolls, and a thermos of cooling tea. His jacket was folded beside him. A loose shirt clung to his back with sweat, his brow furrowed in concentration.
When he looked up and saw her, his expression softened.
"You came," he said, rising quickly.
"I said I would," Yuriko replied, but her voice had an edge—less warmth than she'd meant to show.
Daichi didn't seem to notice. Or maybe he chose not to.
"I've been researching the old village rites," he said, gesturing to the papers. "This place… it was never just about funeral customs. There are myths here that don't appear in any other regional folklore."
Yuriko sat across from him, folding her hands in her lap. "Myths?"
He hesitated, then reached into one of the scrolls and unrolled it slowly.
Drawn in ink, faded by time, was a simple sketch.
Two girls, identical in dress and size, stood side by side. One was detailed—hair in braids, mouth drawn in careful line.
The other had no face.
Not missing. Just never drawn.
"She appears in every account of the village's death rituals," Daichi said. "Always as the mirror twin. The one who reflects the dying."
"Reflects?" Yuriko asked.
"Stands beside the dying person. Learns their movements. Their voice. Their smile. And when they die, the twin remains—to carry something that can't be buried."
Yuriko's fingers clenched before she realized it.
She was still staring at the faceless girl.
"That's why they called her the second mourning," Daichi continued. "Because she never cried."
Yuriko swallowed.
She didn't know why it disturbed her so deeply.
Or why the image felt more remembered than imagined.
Or why her skin still burned faintly at the wrist—where Maboroshi had almost touched her.
Daichi leaned closer.
"Are you all right?"
She nodded too quickly.
He reached out, placed a hand on hers.
It was warm. Familiar.
But her body tensed.
Not in fear.
But in refusal.
And she didn't know what that meant.