Nure-Onago

The villagers had always warned against wandering near the old river after sunset.

It was a place of peculiar misfortune, where the water ran unnaturally cold, even during the warmest months, and where a thick, suffocating mist gathered among the reeds long before nightfall. Fishermen spoke of strange footprints appearing along the muddy banks, of mournful sobbing carried upon the evening breeze, and of a disheveled young woman who wandered aimlessly beside the water, her clothing perpetually soaked.

Those unfortunate enough to encounter her described a beautiful but frightening creature, with long, tangled black hair that concealed much of her face. Some claimed she wept inconsolably, while others insisted she merely stumbled about, dripping water and grinning at anyone foolish enough to approach. Dead leaves and river weeds clung to her garments, and wherever she wandered, the ground became damp beneath her feet.

The villagers called her Nure-Onago.

Nobody could agree upon what she wanted. Some believed she was the restless spirit of a woman who had drowned in the river long ago, condemned to wander its banks in search of something she had lost. Others whispered that she was something far older, a mischievous and unpredictable yōkai who delighted in frightening unsuspecting travelers.

Whatever the truth, the warnings remained the same.

Never follow the sound of a woman weeping beside the river.

And should she turn to smile at you, do not smile back.

For some believed that returning her unnatural grin would invite terrible misfortune, perhaps even a fatal illness.

Yet, on this particular evening, you would find yourself wandering along that very river.

The rain had begun shortly before dusk.

What had initially been a gentle drizzle had gradually developed into a steady downpour, transforming the narrow woodland path into a winding ribbon of mud. The surrounding trees bowed beneath the weight of the rain, their branches creaking softly as the wind stirred through their leaves.

You had been traveling between villages when the weather turned against you. With the nearest settlement still some distance away, you had little choice but to continue along the riverside path, hoping to find shelter before darkness settled completely.

The river flowed sluggishly beside you, its murky waters swollen from several days of rainfall. Occasionally, something disturbed its surface, sending ripples outward through the floating leaves.

Then, somewhere ahead, you heard it.

Someone was crying.

The sound was faint at first, almost indistinguishable from the pattering rain. A woman's voice, trembling with quiet, miserable sobs.

As you continued forward, the weeping became clearer.

There, beneath the drooping branches of an ancient willow tree, stood a solitary figure.

A young woman.

She was dressed in a faded, waterlogged kimono, its once-delicate fabric stained with mud and clinging heavily to her slender frame. Long strands of black hair hung across her face and shoulders, dripping continuously onto the ground. Tangled among her locks were small twigs, decaying leaves, and strands of green river weed.

She stood with her back partially turned toward the path, her head bowed and her shoulders trembling.

At first glance, she appeared to be an unfortunate traveler who had fallen into the river.

But something about her was terribly wrong.

Despite the heavy rain, the woman seemed far wetter than she ought to have been. Water poured from her hair in thin, continuous streams, collecting around her bare feet. Her skin, glimpsed beneath the tangled strands, possessed an unnatural pallor, almost bluish in the fading light.

And although she was crying, her shoulders occasionally jerked with movements that seemed suspiciously close to laughter.

As you approached, the woman's sobbing abruptly ceased.

For several moments, she remained perfectly still.

Then her head tilted.

Slowly.

Farther than seemed comfortable.

A faint, wet sound escaped her throat.

"Hhh... hhh..."

She turned toward you.

Through the tangled curtain of black hair, you glimpsed the face of a beautiful young Japanese woman. Her features were delicate, almost sorrowful, with large, dark eyes and pale lips. Yet there was something profoundly unsettling about her expression.

Her eyes were fixed upon you with an intensity that seemed almost hungry.

A drop of water slid down her cheek.

Then another.

Her lips began to curl upward.

What started as a timid, almost bashful smile gradually stretched into an impossibly broad grin.

"Heh... hehehe..."

Her laughter emerged in a strange, bubbling cackle, as though her throat were still half-filled with river water.

She took one stumbling step toward you.

Then another.

Her movements were awkward and uneven, her bare feet dragging through the mud. With every step, water dripped from her garments, leaving small puddles in her wake.

"Hehehehehe!"

The laughter grew louder.

She was clearly expecting something.

A scream, perhaps. A frightened retreat. The familiar sight of another traveler fleeing into the darkness at the mere glimpse of her unnatural smile.

After all, that was how these encounters usually ended.

But you did not immediately flee.

And that seemed to confuse her.

The woman's laughter faltered.

Her broad grin remained, but her dark eyes narrowed inquisitively as she studied your face.

For a moment, she looked almost offended by your failure to react appropriately.

Then, with a peculiar little huff, she leaned forward and deliberately widened her smile, exposing her teeth.

"Haaaaah... hehehe!"

Still, you remained.

The yōkai blinked.

Her expression slowly shifted from malicious amusement to bewilderment.

She had frightened countless travelers along this river. Some had stumbled backward into the water. Others had fled so desperately that they abandoned their belongings upon the path. A few had even fallen to their knees, begging her to spare them.

But rarely had anyone remained long enough to look at her properly.

And even fewer had looked upon her with anything resembling concern.

The woman straightened, her soaked hair falling across her face once more.

For the first time, she seemed uncertain of what to do.

A low, questioning sound escaped her lips.

"Nnnh...?"

She took another step toward you, this time without laughing.

The rain continued to fall.

For several moments, the two of you simply regarded one another beneath the willow tree.

Then her attention shifted toward your belongings, particularly anything that might offer warmth or shelter. Her gaze lingered upon them with an almost childlike curiosity before returning to your face.

She raised one pale hand.

Long, slender fingers emerged from the dripping sleeve of her kimono. There was mud beneath her fingernails, and a small, decaying leaf clung to her wrist.

Tentatively, she extended her hand toward you.

But just before her fingers could touch your clothing, she stopped.

Something peculiar passed across her expression.

Suspicion, perhaps.

Or hesitation.

She glanced toward the river, then back at you, her lips trembling between a smile and a frown.

A moment later, she abruptly turned away.

Her shoulders began trembling once more.

"Hhh... hhh... ahhh..."

The mournful sobbing returned.

Yet this time, it sounded strangely deliberate, almost as though she were attempting to remind you of the pitiful woman you had initially discovered beneath the tree.

She glanced backward through her wet hair.

Waiting.

When you did not immediately abandon her, she slowly turned around again.

Her expression was different now.

The malicious grin had faded into something smaller, quieter, and considerably more difficult to interpret.

Perhaps she was merely devising another way to frighten you.

Perhaps she was curious about this peculiar stranger who refused to behave like the others.

Or perhaps, beneath her unsettling laughter and mischievous cruelty, there existed some faint remnant of the lonely woman she was rumored to have once been.

Whatever the reason, Nure-Onago seemed unwilling to let this encounter end.

She shuffled closer until only a few paces separated you.

Her dark eyes searched your face.

Then, slowly, she extended her cold, dripping hand once more, turning her palm upward as though expecting you to place something within it.

"Ahh...?"

A faint, crooked smile returned to her lips.

Behind her, the river gurgled softly against its muddy banks.

The surrounding forest had grown unnaturally quiet.

And although the path ahead remained unobstructed, you had the distinct impression that leaving this strange woman behind would not be quite so simple.

For the first time in what might have been decades, Nure-Onago had encountered someone who had not immediately run away.

And now, it seemed, she wanted to know why.