The next morning, Arata woke with his body screaming for him more than it had when he first went to bed. These events at the lighthouse chased over and into his sleep till they all meshed into this jumble of whispers and shadows, fleeting impressions of a tear-streaked, white face.
He sat up, looking out the window at the thick fog that still clung to the town like a stubborn ghost. It was almost noon, but the sun was hidden, giving the day an eerie, muted glow. Despite everything Mei had warned him about, he knew he needed answers. Whatever was happening in Umigawa, it was starting to feel like he was part of it, whether he wanted to be or not.
He was barely done with breakfast when his phone buzzed in with another message from Sora.
"Hey are you okay? You seemed really out of it yesterday. If you need to talk, I'm here."
Arata paused. Sora was nice, and he knew she actually cared, but how much could he share with her? What he saw was too surreal, too impossible. He didn't want to be told he's losing it.
"Okay," he texted back after a minute. "I'm good. Just need to deal with stuff."
She paused again before writing back.
"If it's about the fog… you can talk to me. I know it's weird. People here don't like to talk about it, but I've heard things. My grandfather used to tell me stories about it when I was a kid."
Arata skipped a heartbeat. "Stories?"
"Yeah. He used to say the fog wasn't natural. That it was alive, and it could see things. Watch people. He said it showed you things you wanted to see, but it was dangerous to believe them."
Arata's heartbeat raced. What Sora was saying sounded like what Mei said, but there was a new aspect: the fog is a watch. Was that the reason why he felt not alone? It did send a shiver down his back, but he pushed it out of his mind. He couldn't let himself be sidetracked now.
"Can we meet?" he typed. "I want to hear more about the stories."
Okay. The coffee shop next to the train station? I'll be there within the hour."
As Arata walked towards the coffee shop, he felt that someone watched him. Every time he glanced back over his shoulder he half expected to see an impenetrable, dark shape at the edge of the fog, but there was nobody. Only the same featureless streets, blanketed by the mist.
The café was small, cozy, with a warm interior that felt like a world away from the foggy, cold streets outside. Sora was already there, sipping on a cup of coffee while staring out of the window. She caught his eye as Arata entered and smiled.
"Hey," she said, waving him over. "I'm glad you came."
Across from her slid into a chair, looking nervously about the room. "Thanks for meeting me," she said. "I. I need to understand what's going on. I've seen things, heard things. And I have no idea what's real any longer."
Sora smiled with sympathy. "You are not crazy, if that's what you're worried about," he said. "I've seen things too, although perhaps not as many things as you. Enough that the fog isn't quite right, though.".
She sipped her coffee, put the cup down, traced the rim with her fingers. "My grandfather used to say the fog was a kind of. mirror. That it showed people things they couldn't see, things they were afraid to face. But he also said it was a trap. If you look too closely, you'll see things that aren't really there.". Or maybe they are, but they're not what you think they are."
Arata's face leaned in, his mind racing. "Are you suggesting the fog is trying to. entice in people, even? Meaning it's behind the disappearances?
Sora paused and nodded. "Maybe. But it's not just the fog. It's the whole town. There is something here, something old, that doesn't want to let go. My grandfather used to say the fog was only one part of it, like a guardian or a gatekeeper."
"A gatekeeper?" Arata repeated, his heart beating with a growing unease. "To what?
"I don't know," Sora admitted, her eyes darkening. "But he always said there were things in Umigawa that shouldn't be disturbed. Secrets that were buried for a reason."
The talk left him with more questions than answers, but he felt strangely relieved. At least he was not alone in this. Somebody else knows about the fog, and she believed him, as well. As they left the café, Sora turned to him, her face stern.
There is something else you need to know," she said, her voice so soft that it took a lot of effort to hear. "I asked around about Mei and… it's strange. Nobody seems to know how she ended up here. She just appeared one day a few years ago, and she's been here since then. People say they saw her talking to the fog as if she understood the words."
Arata's heart went through a skip. "Talking to the fog? What do you mean?
"I don't know," Sora shrugged. "But I think she knows more than she's letting on. Be careful around her, okay?"
That evening, he wandered out for a walk in an effort to clear his head. He found himself walking again toward the beach where he had first discovered Mei. The fog was thicker than ever, swirling around the shoreline, it seemed, like some alive thing, but he could still see the faint outline of the abandoned lighthouse in the distance.
He didn't know why, but there was this urging him to walk towards it as though something was beckoning him. He took two steps forward when suddenly he heard footsteps behind him. Half expecting to see Mei, turning around, he didn't see anyone there. The beach was deserted and silent, still foggy.
Then, just at the corner of his eye, he saw a shadow move. It came through fast between the rocks but he was certain he saw it. So he got up closer, squinting through the mist at something a few feet in front of him to see a figure sitting there. It was too dark to make out any details but he knew it was watching him.
Who's there?" Arata shouted, his voice trembling a bit. The figure did not answer but remained still as well. It simply stood there silently and motionlessly, like a statue.
Arata felt his heartbeat in the chest. He should run. But his legs daren't move. It was as if the fog had wrapped around him, holding him in its embrace. "What do you want?" he shouted, his voice echoing across the empty beach.
The figure tilted her head to one side, a shiver running down Arata's spine. It looked almost as if it had studied him. Then she raised a hand, beckoning slowly toward the lighthouse.
Arata followed that direction. There was nothing: the same old, crumbling thing he had seen a moment before. When he turned round again, the figure had gone, swallowed up by fog.
He stood there for a moment, his head spinning. Did he imagine it? Or was it one of the illusions that this fog creates? He did not know but one thing clearly stood out: the lighthouse was at the heart of things that were happening in Umigawa and if he wanted to get answers, he'd have to go back.
As he walked, he heard a very faint whisper carried on the wind.
Don't let it see you…
The next morning, Arata found a note slipped under his door. It had no name, no signature; there was just one line scribbled in very uneven, shuddery writing.
"Come to the lighthouse tonight. I will tell you everything."
He would recognize the writing anywhere. It was Mei's.