Ohaguro-Bettari

The old shrine had long since fallen out of favor with the villagers.

Once, it had been a sacred place where young lovers came to pray for happy marriages, where newlyweds offered thanks for their unions, and where lonely souls knelt before the altar to beg the gods for companionship. Generations ago, its grounds had been filled with the fragrance of incense, the ringing of ceremonial bells, and the cheerful voices of couples seeking blessings for their futures.

Now, however, the shrine stood forgotten at the edge of a dense forest, its weathered wooden buildings slowly surrendering to the passage of time. Moss crept over the stone lanterns, weeds sprouted between the steps, and faded prayer plaques hung crookedly beneath the eaves. Few villagers dared venture there anymore, particularly after sundown.

Some claimed the shrine's guardian spirits had abandoned it. Others whispered that something else had taken their place.

There were stories, of course. Stories of a mysterious bride who appeared among the shrine's shadows, dressed in the elegant wedding garments of a woman awaiting her marriage ceremony. Travelers spoke of glimpsing her standing motionless before the altar, her back turned toward anyone who approached. At first, she appeared perfectly ordinary, perhaps even beautiful.

But those foolish enough to approach her never remained long enough to admire her.

They returned to the village pale and trembling, babbling about a woman without a face, whose only features were a grotesquely smiling mouth filled with teeth as black as lacquer.

The villagers called her Ohaguro-Bettari.

And they knew better than to disturb her.

You, however, knew nothing of these warnings.

Your journey to the shrine had begun that morning, driven by a longing you had carried quietly within your heart for many years. Although your life was comfortable enough, it had become painfully lonely. You had watched friends and neighbors marry, raise families, and build lives alongside those they cherished, while you remained alone.

It was not wealth, status, or admiration that you desired. You simply wished to find someone with whom you could share your days. Someone who might welcome you home, sit beside you during the quiet evenings, and grow old alongside you.

And so, having heard that the old shrine had once been renowned for blessing marriages, you resolved to make the long pilgrimage yourself.

You brought offerings carefully prepared for the occasion: sweet rice cakes wrapped in delicate paper, a small bottle of fine sake, fragrant incense, and a beautiful arrangement of flowers. Among the blossoms were red camellias, symbolizing deep affection; chrysanthemums, representing enduring happiness; and delicate white blossoms chosen for their associations with purity, devotion, and lasting union.

Perhaps the shrine's spirits would take pity on your loneliness.

Perhaps they would finally answer your prayers.

By the time you reached the shrine, the sun had disappeared beyond the distant mountains.

The forest was unnaturally quiet.

No birds sang among the branches. No insects chirped beneath the fallen leaves. Even the wind seemed reluctant to disturb the ancient trees surrounding the sacred grounds.

Passing beneath the weathered torii gate, you noticed several stone lanterns lining the overgrown pathway. Their interiors were dark, their surfaces coated in moss. Yet farther ahead, through the partially opened doors of the shrine's main hall, a faint golden light flickered.

Someone was already there.

You approached cautiously, your footsteps softly disturbing the fallen leaves.

Inside, dozens of small candles illuminated the neglected altar. Their flames trembled despite the absence of any noticeable breeze, casting long, restless shadows across the wooden floor.

And standing before the altar was a woman.

She wore a beautiful white bridal kimono, its long sleeves hanging gracefully beside her slender figure. Her glossy black hair was arranged in a traditional bridal style, decorated with delicate ornaments that glimmered faintly in the candlelight. Her hands rested neatly before her, and her head was inclined toward the shrine's sacred offerings.

She stood with her back to you, perfectly still.

For a moment, you wondered whether another lonely soul had come to seek the same blessing.

"Excuse me," you called softly.

The woman did not respond.

You stepped farther into the hall.

"I apologize for disturbing your prayers. I didn't realize anyone else would be here."

Still, she remained motionless.

Something about her silence was unsettling. The longer you observed her, the more unnatural her stillness became. Her shoulders did not rise or fall with her breathing. Her fingers never twitched. Even the fabric of her kimono seemed untouched by the faint currents of air moving through the old building.

Then, very slowly, her head tilted.

Not toward you.

Away.

As though she were deliberately refusing to show you her face.

A faint sound escaped her.

"Hee... hee... hee..."

It was a woman's giggle, soft and strangely playful, yet carrying an unpleasant hollowness that made the hair along your neck prickle.

You hesitated.

"Are you... quite alright?"

The giggling stopped.

For several agonizing seconds, the shrine fell utterly silent.

Then the woman began to turn.

Her movement was slow, almost ceremonious. First came the delicate shift of her shoulders, followed by the graceful sweep of her white sleeves. Her elaborate bridal ornaments trembled softly as her head turned toward you.

And finally, you saw her face.

Or rather, the terrible absence of one.

Where her eyes should have been, there was only smooth, pale flesh. Her nose was entirely absent, leaving her face unnaturally blank and featureless.

Only her mouth remained.

A wide, crimson-lipped mouth that suddenly stretched into a horrifying grin, revealing two rows of gleaming, jet-black teeth.

"HIIII-HI-HI-HI-HI!"

Her shrieking laughter erupted through the shrine.

It was impossibly loud, rising and falling in a grotesque imitation of a delighted bride's laughter. Her mouth widened farther than any human mouth should, exposing the dark lacquered teeth within. Her head jerked forward, and her pale hands lifted toward her cheeks as though she were a bashful young woman overcome with excitement.

The candle flames flickered violently.

Shadows writhed across the walls.

And somewhere outside, the ancient shrine bell began to sway, though no wind stirred its rope.

Ohaguro-Bettari leaned toward you, her dreadful grin stretching from cheek to cheek.

She knew precisely what would happen next.

It always happened.

The stranger would scream. Perhaps stumble backward, dropping whatever they carried. Perhaps flee so desperately that they would trip over the shrine's threshold and scramble through the courtyard on their hands and knees.

She had frightened countless visitors this way.

It was her favorite amusement.

She waited eagerly for your terror.

But it never came.

Instead, you remained standing before her.

Your heart was undoubtedly racing, and the sight of her unnatural face was unlike anything you had ever encountered. Yet as the initial shock faded, your gaze drifted toward her exquisite bridal attire.

The carefully arranged hair ornaments. The elegant folds of her white kimono. The unmistakable care with which she presented herself as a bride.

Something about it struck you as strangely poignant.

Had she once been a woman awaiting her wedding day? Had she been abandoned by someone she loved? Or was she simply a lonely spirit who delighted in wearing the garments of a bride whose ceremony would never come?

Whatever the truth, you found yourself feeling something other than fear.

Slowly, you lowered your head in a respectful bow.

Ohaguro-Bettari's laughter faltered.

"Hii... hi...?"

Her mouth remained open.

You straightened, carefully setting your offerings before the altar. Then, from your arrangement of flowers, you selected a particularly beautiful red camellia.

Holding the blossom delicately between your fingers, you approached the strange woman.

"I hope you'll forgive me for intruding," you said gently. "I came here to pray for a marriage... for someone who might love me."

The yokai's grin twitched.

You extended the flower toward her.

"But I never imagined I would encounter such a beautiful bride."

Silence.

Absolute, suffocating silence.

For the first time in longer than she could remember, Ohaguro-Bettari found herself utterly bewildered.

Her wide, black-toothed smile remained frozen upon her featureless face.

A flower?

You were offering her... a flower?

She glanced downward—or at least appeared to, despite possessing no eyes—toward the crimson blossom held between your fingers.

Then back toward you.

"Hih...?"

A tiny, questioning noise escaped her mouth.

Her pale fingers twitched at her sides.

Surely this was some manner of trick.

Perhaps you were too frightened to think clearly. Perhaps your terror had rendered you foolish. Or perhaps you simply had not understood what stood before you.

She leaned closer.

Much closer.

Her smooth, eyeless face hovered mere inches from yours, and her enormous mouth stretched open once more, displaying every one of her blackened teeth.

"HIIIIIIII—!"

She unleashed another shrill, dreadful cackle directly into your face.

But you did not flee.

Instead, you smiled faintly and held the flower a little higher.

"It's for you," you explained. "If you'd like it."

Her laughter died abruptly.

For several moments, she simply remained there, her mouth hanging open in an expression that might almost have resembled astonishment.

Then, slowly, one of her hands rose.

Her fingers were long and pale, with delicate nails that looked almost translucent in the candlelight. They hovered uncertainly above the flower, withdrawing once before reaching toward it again.

At last, she accepted the camellia.

The blossom looked extraordinarily vivid against her ghostly white hands.

Ohaguro-Bettari turned it between her fingers, examining the delicate petals with an almost childlike fascination.

No one had ever brought her flowers before.

No one had ever called her beautiful.

Certainly, no one had ever looked upon her dreadful face and addressed her as a bride without recoiling in disgust.

Her enormous grin slowly diminished into something smaller, though no less unnatural.

She lifted the camellia toward her face.

For a moment, she seemed to imitate the familiar gesture of a woman admiring the fragrance of a flower, despite having no nose with which to smell it.

Then she made a peculiar little sound.

"Hee... hee..."

It was quieter than before.

Almost shy.

She glanced toward the offerings arranged upon the altar, then toward you again. Her head tilted slightly to one side.

You had come seeking marriage.

You had brought gifts meant to honor love, devotion, and lifelong companionship.

And you had given her a flower.

The implications of this seemed to occupy her thoughts with increasing intensity.

Very carefully, Ohaguro-Bettari tucked the red camellia into her elaborate bridal hairstyle.

She adjusted it once.

Then twice.

Finally, she turned her head toward you, presenting the flower nestled among her ornaments.

Her black-toothed mouth curved upward.

"Hihihihi..."

This time, her laughter was almost musical.

But beneath that strange, delighted sound, something far older and more unsettling stirred.

For countless years, Ohaguro-Bettari had known only the fleeting pleasure of frightening those who wandered into her domain. She had never considered what might happen if someone chose to remain.

And now, standing before her was a lonely mortal who had come to an abandoned shrine in search of a spouse.

A mortal who had called her beautiful.

A mortal who had offered her a flower traditionally associated with love.

Perhaps, she thought, this was no coincidence.

Perhaps the shrine's forgotten spirits had finally answered a prayer.

Or perhaps...

Perhaps the prayer had been answered by the wrong spirit.

The candles nearest the entrance suddenly extinguished themselves.

One by one, the remaining flames along the walls dimmed until only the candles surrounding the altar continued to burn.

Behind you, the shrine's heavy wooden doors creaked slowly inward.

They closed with a soft, deliberate thud.

Ohaguro-Bettari did not appear to notice.

Or perhaps she simply did not care.

Instead, she stepped closer, her white bridal robes whispering against the floorboards. She reached for your hand with surprising gentleness, her cold fingertips brushing against yours.

Then, with her other hand, she pointed toward the offerings upon the altar.

Toward the flowers.

Toward herself.

And finally, toward you.

Her head tilted expectantly.

"Hee... hee... hee..."

The sound was still eerie, still unmistakably inhuman.

Yet there was something almost hopeful in it now.

Something that suggested the lonely bride had misunderstood—or perhaps understood perfectly—the meaning of your visit.

And as her pale fingers curled a little more firmly around your hand, one unsettling possibility became increasingly difficult to ignore.

You had come to the shrine praying that someone might someday wish to marry you.

And the bride standing before you seemed to believe that you had come to marry her.