The Footprints of the Drowned

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 a tale from a small port town in the Seto Inland Sea.
It happened to a young couple who had come there on a brief journey.

Their inn was an old, modest lodging,
but the meals—prepared with the sea’s fresh bounty—were so delightful
that they decided to extend their stay.

That night, however, something strange occurred.

Shhh… shhh… 

The husband awoke to the sound of sliding footsteps across the tatami.
His wife’s place beside him was empty.

He assumed she had gone to the restroom
and was about to drift back to sleep—when he heard it:
a faint dripping, the sound of water, just outside the window.

He slid open the shoji.
The narrow road from the inn to the harbor lay under the moonlight,
glistening as though submerged beneath the tide.

Was it flooding? A disaster?
Fear for his wife struck him at once.

And then he saw her.
His wife, moving slowly, ever so slowly, toward the harbor.
Something inside him knew—it was not right.

He rushed outside, seized her hand.
She gasped awake, bewildered, with no memory of why she was outdoors.

The street was dry once more.
Yet in the moonlight he could see faint traces:
as if something had crawled along the earth,
leaving a trail toward the harbor.

And beside it… her footprints, laid neatly one after another.

They did not sleep until dawn.
Even within the room, faintly, almost imperceptibly, came the sound: 

shhh… shhh… across the tatami floor.

Here, allow me to share an old belief from the Seto coast.
They speak of the footprints of the drowned. 

It is said that those who perish in the sea rise with the tide,
leaving wet tracks as they wander, searching for a home.

One must never follow those tracks.
For if you do, you too will be “welcomed.”

The couple only learned of this tale much later.
Fortune spared them that night.

But had they both been drawn onward, following those ghostly marks…
Who can say what might have become of them?

When you stay in places bound by old beliefs,
take care—
and listen closely to the silence of the night.

Ah, yes… such dreadful things truly do happen in this world.
And so, until our next tale, we must part ways.
May you remain safe… until then. Heh, heh, heh…