Discover Japan's stories—across time, across language.

| Original Title | 浅茅生 |
|---|---|
| Author | 泉 鏡花 |
| Genre | Modern Short Fiction |
| Author Type | Male Author |
| Summary | On a sweltering, windless night, Yuikichi languishes in his second-floor room, tormented by oppressive heat and restless insomnia. Through his half-open window, he glimpses an ethereal figure in the vacant house across the way—a woman of haunting beauty, her pale form draped in a moonlit yukata. Their unexpected conversation across the rooftops drifts like a dream: she speaks of unbearable suffering, cryptic regrets, and a plea for secrecy that hints at unspeakable trauma. Her voice carries echoes of tragedy—a stillborn child, a spectral monk with a clanging bell, and nights steeped in delirium—yet her words dissolve into ambiguity, leaving Yuikichi unnerved. As clouds shroud the moon, the boundary between reality and illusion blurs. Shadows twist into menacing shapes; insect cries crescendo into phantom whispers. The woman’s presence grows increasingly spectral, her gestures fraught with unspoken dread, until a chilling climax leaves Yuikichi trembling in the dark. Lyrical and unsettling, this tale weaves gossamer threads of longing, guilt, and otherworldly forces that linger long after the final page. |