"It is about to be evening, Sanju Maru!" a booming voice echoed sharply through the freezing, narrow streets.
A young boy who had been diligently cutting firewood came into view. He wore torn garments that had been stitched over and over again, the mismatched fabrics of the patches giving his clothes a jagged, uneven appearance.
"Yes, Mother," the young boy responded dutifully, turning away from the smoking coal oven. A grey plume of smoke rose from it, covering most of their yard.
"Make sure you call your little brother to come inside the house immediately. It is about to get dark outside," the woman added. She looked remarkably thin, yet her commanding voice carried the vague, lingering strength of someone who had once been far more robust. She, too, wore a heavily patched kimono, her long black hair completely hidden beneath a faded headwrap. Her hands and face were covered in layers of dark soot, matching the baskets filled to the brim with raw charcoal resting at her side.
On one side of their house was a small shrine on the far end with a small Torii gate and three incense sticks that plumed alongside the smoke coming from the coal oven.
Within the harsh confines of the Rokuhara district, they managed to scrape together a meagre living solely by manufacturing and selling charcoal. She glanced up toward the horizon, watching the sun cast a bleeding, deep crimson hue across the sky as it prepared to set.
"I wonder if your father and elder brothers will be coming home tonight…" she murmured softly to herself.
The boy splashed a bucket of water over the remaining embers of the oven, watching the steam hiss into the cold air before walking away. "I heard that there is an overwhelming amount of work required in the fields right now, Mother. I highly doubt he will be coming back anytime soon."
"Hmmmm, what a shame it's been two weeks now since they left." The woman spoke her voice sorrow filled.
Outside, the dirt streets were a chaotic blur as harsh, urgent voices sliced through the chilling air. One by one, the local shopkeepers were hurriedly slamming their wooden shutters closed, and the neighbourhood scrambled to retreat indoors before the final light vanished.
"Shinju Maru…!" Sanju called out, his eyes darting frantically across the marketplace near the closing storefronts. "Tch. Where the hell did that brat wander off to?" Sanju muttered to himself, navigating the rapidly emptying alleyways.
"Sanju! What are you still doing out at this hour? Get yourself home," an old woman closing down her Udon stall called out sharply. "You know exactly how dangerous it gets the moment night falls."
She was short and stubby, aggressively stacking heavy clay pots and securing them tightly onto her wooden cart. Standing at the front of the vehicle, holding the pulling harness, was an immensely large man with a round, vacant face, strong as an ox, but clearly dull of wit.
"Yes... Obaasan Gayu," Sanju responded, inclining his head in a respectful, albeit rushed bow. He exhaled a sharp breath, clearly anxious. "I am just looking for my little brother, and then we will head straight back."
"Make it quick, then," the old woman grunted, tossing a heavy rope over her cargo. "And give my warm greetings to your mother. Tell her I have some spare shiitake mushrooms at the house if she needs any."
"Yes, thank you. I will pass it along," Sanju responded, bowing one last time before quickly jogging away.
'If he isn't anywhere in the market, he must be hiding out in that abandoned house again,' Sanju thought, his expression souring into a glare as he accelerated his pace. 'Tch… that stupid brat. How many times have I told him to stay away from that place? What does he think will happen if the owners suddenly return? He's just going to bring more unnecessary trouble down on Mother and Father.'
….
"There you are, Shinju Maru!" Sanju roared, storming into the dilapidated, rickety old house.
Inside, his younger brother and a handful of his friends were completely caught red-handed, right in the middle of a rowdy wrestling match on the Tatami.
"B-Brother Sanju…!" the young boy stammered, his voice shaking violently as the game ground to a sudden halt.
"Don't you 'Brother Sanju' me!" Sanju bellowed, instantly lunging forward and grabbing the boy firmly by the ear. "How many times have I explicitly told you? The moment it starts getting dark, you get your ass back home!"
Sanju glared over at the three other boys huddled in the shadows. "And what about the rest of you? Didn't your parents teach you any better?"
The three culprits were already kneeling rigidly on the floorboards with their hands high in the air, instantly braced for punishment.
"Tch. Just get up, let's go," Sanju grumbled, releasing his brother's ear.
The kids didn't need to be told twice. They scrambled out of the abandoned house, running one by one into the dimming streets. As they made their way back onto the main road, the group slowly fractured, with the other children waving hurried goodbyes as they split off toward their respective homes.
"See you tomorrow, Shinju. I will win for sure." Their voices murmured, grinning at each other with bruised faces.
"No, you will not," Shinju responded, waving his hand.
Sanju and Shinju continued their trek alone, their footsteps echoing through the now completely deserted market district. They approached the familiar corner where the pottery stall had stood just moments prior.
"Sanju..." A strained, hollow voice suddenly called out from the gloom.
"Ha?!" Sanju froze, his posture tensing.
"Brother Sanju… someone is calling for you from inside Obaasan Gayu's shop!" Shinju whispered, tugging anxiously on his older brother's sleeve.
Sanju's blood ran cold. 'Huh? But that's impossible... I just watched her and her companion pack up the cart and leave not even a few minutes ago.'
"Help me... I have fallen..." the woman's voice pleaded again from the deep shadows of the storefront.
And right at that exact moment, the very last sliver of the sun began to dip beneath the horizon, plunging the Rokuhara district into absolute, suffocating darkness.