The Sea of Trees (Aokigahara)

 

                     

                         The Sea of Trees.

Being here felt surreal. Almost like it wasn’t happening...but it was.

The forest lay out before him in a vast, wooded expanse. A sign in Japanese stood off to the side of the trail that wound deeper into the trees. Although he couldn’t read it Ken had a good idea of what it said; he had been warned numerous times. Stay on the trails. Do not hike after sunset. If you are having thoughts of suicide call this number. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked at its signal strength. With one bar barely hanging in there he wondered how many people got deeper into the woodlands before changing their mind and trying to call only to have no service. How would that end?

“No way to find out except going in” he said aloud to nobody. Not a soul was in sight and for that he was glad. Aokigahara was rather infamous and many people came to visit it for various reasons. As far as forests go it was enchanting. Lush greens and old, hard wood stood in stoic, irregular patterns, littering the landscape. The path was auburn dirt and well weathered, about four people wide walking abreast. Foliage and nature’s debris was strewn about almost like a carpet except upon the path itself. Moss grew heavily on the tree bark and rocks like vellus hairs on old, soft skin. Tourists and natives alike enjoyed the quiet and solitude. The ground was even so hiking would be easy and relaxing. A chance to recharge the ol’ batteries as one of his ex’es used to say.

“Fuck batteries” he said under his breath. He wasn’t going to need them where he was going.

The other reason people came to Aokigahara was to commit suicide. Hari Kari. Seppuku. Ken wasn’t sure if those were appropriate terms since he was “gaijin” and all.

“Formal rituals for samurai but the end result is the same, so what does it matter?” he thought out loud.

For years, likely since before the time of samurais, people had been coming here to kill themselves. It got so bad within the last few decades that the local government posted signs with the suicide help call lines. The nearby populace had volunteers that would make sweeps through the forest to try and find bodies of suicide victims every couple of months.

“I mean, that’s really macabre, if you think about it..” he thought to himself. He wondered if he would happen upon any remains on his trek. “Probably,” he answered to no one in particular. It’d be best to just ignore them. Stuff like that can get into your head and make you question things. Its definitely best to just ignore them.

He looked up at the sun one last time, high over head. Not a cloud was in sight and he questioned why today, of all days, it decided to be so beautiful.

“Nope, none of that, no thoughts of “beauty” and crap like that, on we go, that stuff will definitely get into your head and you are here for a reason” he reassured himself and began to muster off down the path.

His plan was pretty simple as there was no need for any kind of extravagance. He’d walk a few miles down the path, choose a random direction off the path, head for a few more miles that way, and find a nice, serene spot to contemplate life – or what was left of it. His boots made soft thuds as he began walking but soon they became more muffled. The deeper into the forest he got the more of nature’s carpet seemed to mute the sounds of his footsteps.

The walk was quiet and the majesty of the forest was nearly awe inspiring. The hustle and bustle of the city he came from could easily be forgotten here, so far away. The pressures of daily life, to always be moving forward and staying productive like little ants suddenly appeared as unimportant and trivial. There was no time clock to clock in on and no manager constantly looking over your shoulder, no customer upset at some little inconvenience that somehow “ruined” their entire day. The sounds of nature seemed far away too. Not imperceptible but just barely noticeable, like the breeze that had a hard way of fighting through the thickness of the woods. Sunlight was nearly completely blocked out by the forest roof but the ambient light was enough to see the little details of the dried, brown leaves down to their veins that covered the earth. The grass, rocks and roots that snaked haphazardly between tree to tree all seemed to have their perfect spot, as if they were put there by some deific hand with a purpose. As if God himself deemed “this is precisely where this blade of grass should grow” and repeated it with every single thing around him. He wondered if he was included in that scheme.

Before he had traversed more than a couple of miles Ken was passed by a few hikers. Two he passed were quiet and barely glanced at him. He moved to the far side of the trail to give them room. “Kon’nichiwa” he offered lowly as they tread past. Their breathing was heavier than normal and he thought they must have been out here for a while and were returning before sunset. They offered no response aside from a slight head bow and simply kept on walking.

The light had grown dimmer within the last hour and while he couldn’t see the position of the sun he knew it would be cresting soon in the west. Another hiker approached him shortly after encountering the first two. It was a girl, probably in her twenties and Ken noted that she was not dressed for hiking. She had on a long, plain cream colored gown made of thick cotton. It went down to her ankles and barely covered the open toed sandals. She did not appear to be out of breath and when they came to a certain distance from each other she stopped and looked at him. He slowed his pace to almost a halt as he wasn’t used to anyone hiking that would just stop and stare at other hikers.

“Kon'nichiwa,” he said, slightly out of breath. He wasn’t in the best of shape and the walk so far had winded him slightly. Ken noted her skin was pale, almost the same same color of her gown. She held her head downward, looking up at him under her eyelids.

“Hello,” she responded in English. This took him by surprise. Since he’d gotten off the plane few people spoke to him, and fewer than that used English. He recalled how a custom’s agent asked him why his ticket was only one way to Japan and that his visa would only be good for a few months. That gentleman spoke nearly perfect English.

“Oh, you speak English” he replied. He’d come to a full stop now, a couple of yards away from her. He took some deep breaths trying to catch up on breathing. Maybe a short chat would be a good rest before he started off path. He was sure he’d need more energy for that anyway.

“I do. I speak many languages. Its why I walk the trails. Why are you here?” she asked. As she was speaking to him, she lifted her head and looked at him directly. Her face was smooth, devoid of emotion. It caught him more than a little off guard when she asked him such a specific, and in his mind, rather invasive question.

“Um...I… I had always heard how beautiful Aokigahra was and wanted to hike through it while I was visiting Japan,” he lied. It was partially true but a lie of omission is still a lie. He figured that would probably suit her though, no one would really care why anyone was here, for hiking or for...other purposes.

She took a small step toward him. Her manner wasn’t threatening, it seemed more so that she was trying to discern if what he said was true and that by somehow being closer to him would help her determine that. Reflexively he stepped back a half step.

“You are not dressed for hiking through Aokigahara,” she said matter of factly.

“Ironic, considering...” Ken thought to himself.

“Are you here for more than just hiking?” she asked, stone faced.

Ken blinked repeatedly at her. What the devil is she getting at? Was this lone girl really out here hiking trails to find possible suicide victims? While he blinked at her it occurred to him she herself hadn’t blinked yet. Had she? He blinked slowly three times in silence a few more times as he pondered that. They’d been engaged in conversation long enough a she should have blinked. Why was he thinking about this? It was all very odd.

“I don’t know what you mean?” Ken stammered. He began to consider all the ways the conversation could go if she was asking if he was there to kill himself and he admitted to it. What was her motivation? Was she here to help people? She looked like she could be poor, maybe she was following victims so she could loot their body of any valuables after they did their deed. Why did he always seem to immediately think the worst of people? “Because – you’ve been burned too many times” his voice in his head answered himself.

“I only ask because if you know of Aokigahara then you also know it is a haven for the depressed. The sullen. Those who feel they have nothing left worth living for seek refuge in eternity here. I would ask them to reconsider.”

Ken was a bit awed by her straightforwardness. He supposed if you were dealing with potential suicide victims who had made up their mind there was no point in beating around the bush.

“Look, I’m really just here to hike the trails. The sea of trees? I’ve just always wanted to see it. I know it has a dark history but that’s not what I’m here for. I’m just here to...” he thought for a moment...”recharge my batteries.” He felt no guilt lying to this complete stranger. His life was his business and no one else’s. He’d do with it as he saw fit. Ending the pain, like thousands of others here had, was his choice to make.

“Very well. It will begin to grow dark soon. Be careful on the trails and do not wander off. Many who have never leave the forest. Also, be wary of those you meet. Some yūrei are not benign. Some seek to empower this cancerous growth,” she stated. Still her face remained emotionless, as unyielding as the trees themselves in their indomitable stances.

“Uh ma’am, whats a yūrei?” he asked as she began to walk again down the trail away from him. She hesitated a moment and turned. “In your language they are called ghosts. A faint soul, or a dim spirit. The ethereal remains of those who were here before and left, but have not completely departed. They are rare and few who live will see them. But here...in these woods, they are legion. Those who come and never leave feed their numbers and they grow, as the forest grows. Not all growth is good, remember that. When I spoke of this place being cancerous it was not a metaphor.”

She looked at him for only a moment more before turning around and continuing down the path. Ken watched her walk slow and steady steps, her head slightly held down looking at where her felt would fall, as she grew smaller and smaller into the distance. As it grew dimmer with the sun setting he thought he began to glimpse through her, as if she were an airy watercolor composition that began to fade away, revealing nature through it. Soon she disappeared completely and he was left puzzled.

“That’s my cue” he said to himself and turned abruptly. He looked deep into the woods in the direction he had faced. Then, steadying himself with resolve, he began to march purposefully off the trail into the waning light as dusk settled.

The footing was much trickier off trail but not impassible. He slowed considerably and the night had settled in around him before he made much progress. As sunlight faded during the walk he passed a row of shoes, each one distinct and unique, lined up in a row. None had a match and they were all different sizes. Some were men’s shoes and some were women’s and one was a child’s. They all looked faded and worn. He wondered how long they’d been sat there, so purposefully, like the rocks and grass and roots earlier. Not too far past that he saw his first body. It was a man, still hanging from a rope secured to a low lying branch, his feet dangling just inches above the ground. Inches that made the difference between life and death. He couldn’t make out too many details as dark as it was but he noted the man was in a business suit and had short hair. The decay made it impossible to make out any features on his face, especially from this distance but he was thankful he couldn’t smell it. He pivoted away to give the poor soul a wide berth. “I don’t want anyone wandering near me, and he probably wouldn’t either” he thought to himself.

As the wind turned he caught a whiff of rotting flesh. Sweetly pungent and assaulting, he gagged a little. The thought of that happening to him made him pause. “No, its natural, its to be expected, let’s get on with this...” he said aloud as he began to move his feet again.

Darkness settled to the point he could barely see a few feet ahead of him and he was wrestling with this question of whether this would be far enough, deep enough in the wood, that his corpse wouldn’t bother anyone until it had rotted away to nothing. He sat down. The earth was chilled, and wet from condensation. His feet throbbed. He wasn’t sure how far he’d walked but he knew it was a good hike. He reached into his pocket and his hands felt the pills. He’d chosen them because he didn’t want to have any pain. Just a swallow or too and it’d be easy to find sleep and never wake up. He pulled them out of his pocket.

“I didn’t bring any fucking water?!” he exclaimed to himself loudly. His eyes rolled. If a person were in the mental state to end their life he supposed its forgivable to forget to bring something to help wash down the pills.

He began to swallow them, one by one, forcefully.

Gulp. Gulp. Gulp.

They tasted horrible. He thought they should probably gel coat them from now on and wondered if anyone ever thought of that before, as bad as they tasted. He managed to finish them all off and laid back, staring up at the blackened forest canopy and feeling the cool, wet unyielding earth hold him.

His mind began to wander. He thought about all the people who had wronged him in life, all the bad luck that life had bestowed upon him, all the bullshit and undeserved stress that had been heaped on his plate for the last 35 years. His job, his ex, his family, his ‘friends’. He wondered if anyone would miss him and how long it would take before they realized he was never coming back. He wondered if they’d realize where he had gone to. He did mention coming to Japan to a few people but they would assume it was his vacation. He’d always wanted to visit, they knew that. They just didn’t know he planned on staying. The forest roof seemed to slowly descend encroaching on his thoughts. The darkness came closer, ever closer. Nature’s sounds languidly drifted off, farther and farther away.

A branch snapping a few feet from him jarred him out of his deathly reverie.

“I don’t know if there’s bears in here but if so I hope I’m delicious.” he slurred.

Another branch snapped, closer this time. Ken sat up. The earth didn’t feel as cool as before but was still as hard and firm. Off in the distance was a glowing, flickering light. That meant people, or a person.

“Well, fuck. I wish it were a bear.” He clambered forward and stood up. It’d be best to move before he couldn’t move at all, and get as far away from them as possible. Surprisingly he had no issues moving right now, and it’d be best to take advantage of it. Then something caught his attention. A voice.

The woman on the path’s voice, to be exact. He listened intently…

“And when will it be finished? When does it all end? How many souls must pass to satiate the hunger?” she asked. Her voice sounded different from earlier. There was a slight...tremble to it? Ken began to walk slowly, oh so slowly forward, taking gentle steps so as not to be heard as he approached.

“There is no end, as you know. Every night we must repeat the cycle and each day more will come- perish- feed the yokai. The enchantment grows. The daidarabotchi that slumbers beneath this forest and mountain will one day awake and the souls his yokai have fed him will not be enough. His stomach is a bottomless pit. It will set out to consume the world.” Ken came around a large tree to see the woman he’d met on the trail sitting before a small fire that didn’t smoke talking to a man in a disheveled suit with short hair. His back was to him. Behind him, in the direction Ken had walked, he heard a low growling and chomping. A dull pain crept into his stomach.

“Today I met an American on the trail” the girl said quietly. “I am afraid he was not here to hike, though his words said otherwise.”

“Hai,” gruffed the man. “It shows how far the cancer has reached. The bear spirit sounds as if he’s found him already.”

The low, soft sounds of mastication continued behind him as a horrible realization began to set in.

 

Hawllk. Hawllk. Hahhmm.

Abdominal cramps began to assault him. It felt like something was ripping his guts out and he somehow felt…lighter. Ken’s face slacked as a slow realization began to dawn on him. He stepped back around the tree to deer eyes’ stare at a misshapen bulk of patchy fur peeling soft tissue from his body’s torso, only to devour it with bland satisfaction. One boot was missing and his corpse jerked and moved as the sunken muzzle of the ursine beast hunched over it took bites and chewed deeply within a shredded cavity of flesh. Lighter and lighter with each swallow.

Gulp. Gulp. Gulp.



The End. (really)