Her attention diverted from her friend to the lights up the ceiling, just like that the air in the room had turned warm despite the coldness that the blackout had filled them in. Their occasional silence also felt unexpectedly comfortable, perhaps they were just that sort of friends. But right now, while sharing their thoughts over a common yet random topic, the actress found herself stepping into the sweet doorstep of nostalgia.Ā ā Really? You should share ! Those are always fun. You see, back in High School we would often have those Test of Courage,ā She laughed lightly,Ā āBut those were always made up! Ever since I starred in the film Sadako , I got called that as a nickname. And of course, I had to play the part during that event.āĀ
āHmm..ā She leaned back, relaxing herself and glancing at Mari from time to time whenever she spoke.Ā ā Peculiar or not, thatās your charm.I do think Mari is really cute. People are either shy or they donāt look at all.Ā āĀ
Mari had a hard time seeing her shyness as something ācuteā. Ā More like something that always hindered her from making real connections, chasing opportunities, living a full life. Almost debilitating. She wondered how something like that could ever be charming. But she was offered a new perspective, and it left Mari thinking maybe it what she liked most about Ai. She was so... refreshing. And the feeling spread out like a noxious weed in the sun every time they spoke.
She giggled lightly, an amused look crossing her features after hearing the nickname.Ā āI donāt remember having thoseĀ ācourage testsā growing up, though they do sound fun.ā She paused for a moment, thinking.Ā ā...I guess I could tell one. Though Iām not sure if any of them are scary anymore. I was like ten when I came up with these, after all. It all seems rather silly now.ā Another laugh, more nervous this time as she straightened and prepared herself to tell the ghastly tale.
āThere was one story... about a woman. She lived alone and spent all her time inside weaving tsumugi silk. Her hands were calloused from the constant starching and binding and blackened from the teichigi.ā A slight pause, rubbing her thumb across her other palm.Ā āOne day, a man visited her home. He knew she weaved tsumugi and asked her to make a kimono for his lover, whom he planned to marry. She agreed, and everyday he would come over to check on its progress. In that time, she fell for him, and she would fantasize about how sheād look in the kimono, and about a potential life with him.ā A small smile entered Mariās features. She remembered how enthusiastically her friend had told this part of the tale, while Mari was confused as to how a woman could fall in love with someone after only knowing them for a few days...
āMany days later, the manās lover came to visit the woman in his stead. She was excited to see the progress the sheād made. The woman, however, was less than excited. She was overcome with jealously, rage, and bitterness every time the manās lover mused about her relationship. So... she led the young woman into the backroom, which was filled with large tubs of teichigi dye, and tools used in the binding of the fabric. The manās lover, lost in a state of confusion, was caught off guard as the woman shoved into one of the large tubs and drowned her. The next day, she waited for the man, who was worried by his loverās disappearance, wearing the finished garb. Her hands, darkened more than ever by the dye, wrapped around his face,ā she cupped her own cheeks with her hands,Ā āand begged him to take her for a bride instead. In his rage he rejected her, and demanded to know where his love was. So she showed him .ā Her hands folded in her lap once more.
āShe fled to the beach, leaving the two in her home, floating in a vat of dye. And, filled with sorrow, she threw herself on the jagged rocks along the shore, battered by the waves and never seen again. Though her spirit still resides there, more haggard and unsightly in appearance than she used to. Sheās said to be incredibly thin, with skin pale as the moon, hair dark like the tsumugi silk she weaved,ā her hands met her messy braid, āand her hands their signature black color. Sometimes you can still hear her wailing in the dead of night....āĀ
She sighed and slumped her shoulders, hands falling to her lap again.Ā āLike I said, seemed much scarier when I was a kid,ā she said with a faint smile, coupled with that nervous laugh from earlier.
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