The Voice on the Mountain

Tonight, once again, I shall tell you a strange tale from Japan. Relax… but do not turn around too quickly. I am watching just behind you. Heh, heh, heh…

This is said to be the experience of a British traveler.

He was an avid mountaineer, and during his visit to Japan he decided to climb a mountain. But the mountain was not yet officially open. In Japan, the climbing season begins only after a ritual known as yama-biraki—the “opening of the mountain.” It is a tradition in which the paths are prepared and prayers are offered for a safe season. Until then, the mountains are often closed to the public, both for safety and for reasons that are not always spoken aloud.

Still, he dismissed it, thinking, “It’s not such a big mountain.” With only light gear, he entered the forest trail. At first his steps were easy, but before long the path grew steeper, the woods darker. And then—from far away—a voice rang out, loud and clear: “Hey, come on!”

Startled, he realized he had wandered off the course. He turned toward the sound, but no figure appeared. At that moment, something seemed to catch his ankle, and at the same instant, a force shoved him hard from behind. He tumbled down the slope and lost consciousness.

When he awoke, it was night. The forest around him was pitch-black. By fortune, his long experience with climbing meant he carried a GPS device. With it, he managed to send a distress signal, and rescuers found him before dawn.

The first words he spoke to them were: “Is the other man safe? The one who called out to me?”

The rescuers exchanged troubled looks before answering heavily: “…Near the place where we found you, we discovered what appears to be human remains. A search will continue, but—there was no one else on the mountain.”

Later, the remains were identified. They belonged to another British man who had vanished on that very mountain, years before.

So then… whose voice had he heard? Was it guiding him back—or luring him astray? Who was it that clutched at his ankle—and who pushed him from behind?

On his skin, the only proof remained: a dark bruise around his ankle, shaped like the grip of a human hand.

And remember this. Before the mountain opens, priests perform a ceremony of prayer. It is not only to bless the weather and protect the climbers—it is also to pacify those restless spirits that linger where lives have been lost. A mountain closed to climbers is not yet cleansed. Step inside too soon, and you may hear a voice calling… one that leads you where no path returns.