Hiroto's Will

Benjamin Drew

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Hiroto’s Will

“Oh? I don’t think any packages were supposed to be delivered today?” Hiroto thought to himself as he approached his two-story town home, blanketed in a thin cover of snow. Mid December in Kyoto brought about these changes, which hurried Hiroto to quickly scoop up the unassuming package and slide into his house. Hiroto lived only with his newly wedded wife, Tanaka, and they recently purchased this house in the previous spring. They’ve been married for a happy two years and purchased this house with the expectation to grow a flourishing family. He himself worked a bland 9-5 at a small marketing firm, whereas his spouse worked at a busy brokerage firm. It was a traditional modern looking Japanese house, no different than his neighbors other than the name on the mailbox. Hiroto brought his package into the kitchen and placed it gently on the empty kitchen table. “Tanaka must not be home yet; she always works late during this season.” He once again thought.

He slung his knapsack on a chair and grabbed a knife from the kitchen drawers. He towered over the box, looking down on it, completely unsure of what the contents might be. It was addressed directly to him, Hiroto Fudo, but there was no shipping label and his name was written in black sharpie. He slid the knife under the flaps, cutting the tape and slowly opening the box. “What the-!” Hiroto jumped back in a mix of overwhelming excitement and a suspicious curiosity. The shoddy cardboard box contain cash; $200,000 Yen to be exact, as well as a small black book. Hiroto quickly shut the curtains in his kitchen, and his heart rate began to race, he grabbed the box and jolted into his bedroom.

“Is this a joke, haha? All this cash? I don’t… I don’t know what this is?” His thoughts and words failed to comprehend, but his hands made quick work of the situation. He excavated the box, placing all the cash spread out on his bed. He then grabbed hold of the small black book. It was wrapped in one of the finest leather’s Hiroto has ever seen in his thirty two years of life. It fit comfortably in his hand as he pulled back the cover, revealing the first printed page.

Written in a red, blood colored ink was an indescribable and repulsive story, filling page after page as Hiroto flipped frantically, growing worse and worse as each paged passed. He began sweating bullets, flipping faster and faster, nearly ripping each page out of the book with a growing rage and anxiety. “What is this, no. No, I never did this! What!” Hiroto screamed as his spirit began to crack. “No!” He threw the book across the room, slamming it into the wall. It wafted to the floor and laid on its back. The pages cycled, revealing the final page in the notebook. Hiroto fell onto the floor in the process, panting like a wild animal running nearly escaping a predator. The shockwave from him hitting the floor was almost enough to think there was another earthquake. Hiroto jumped right back up and quickly scanned his front yard, looking for any sign of something, anything that could have delivered this package to him.

There was nothing. No sign of life, not in his yard, or anywhere in his small neighborhood. He turned back to the book, which still laid gently on the floor of his bedroom, opened to the final page of the book. He walked slowly to it with a grotesque look covering his face. He was smitten with dread and coated with a strange defeat. He dropped down, landing harshly on his knees; his anxiety had spiked to a level never before seen, and he could barely keep himself standing. Instead of a blood red ink, there were four words printed in thick black. There were four more words, but to Hiroto’s eyes, they were completely illegible.

The truth will prevail.

Hiroto fell back once more, overcome and trembling in absolute horror. This simple black leather book overtook his ability to formulate any logical thought in his head, freezing him onto the floor. After moments of shock, he regained some of his senses, and grabbed the book. “What? Why can’t I pick it up? What!” Hiroto began sobbing. “WHY CANT I PICK IT UP!” The book did not move. It was as if it was glued to the floor, or as if it became the heaviest stone. Hiroto pried at the edges of the book until his fingers began to bleed, but to no luck. The book would not move from the floor, the pages would not flip, and the final words of the book seemed to force its will upon Hiroto. He quick admitted defeat to this supernatural book, propping himself up against the wall as tears rushed down his face like a broken dam. His mind was numb to the world, as his understanding of life was completely shattered.

“Why me? Why…” Hiroto mumbled and fumbled his words. After a brief moment however, a primitive instinct kicked in, swiveling his head point at the cash in his bed. His mind was empty, but his body began to move. Quickly, he grabbed the cash on his bed, shoved it in his work bag, and sprinted out of his house as fast as he could.

“Now boarding, flight 1754 to Los Angeles, California.” The loudspeaker echoed throughout the airport. Hiroto shuffled his feet slowly, attracting wandering eyes to his unnatural movements. He clenched his knapsack tightly across his chest, securing it as he moved forward in the line.

“May I see your boarding pass, sir?” The flight attendant asked.

“Uh.” Hiroto muttered. He waived the pass and began boarding the plan. To the naked eye, Hiroto may look like a zombie, or a starved man desperate for food. He plopped into his seat at the back of the plane, locked in his seatbelt, and closed his eyes for the last time in Japan

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“Hiroto, I’m home!” Tanaka burst through the front door of her home, eager to see her husband and relax for the night. It was Friday after all, and every Friday, the couple watches a different movie until they fall asleep. She exited the threshold and entered the kitchen. “Huh? Hiroto ordered something? Hiroto, where are you?” She yelled once again. There was no response. She shrugged it off under the assumption Hiroto ran off to the grocery or liquor store. She grabbed the remote to the kitchen television and flicked it on. Up popped a reporter for the local news. “Hiroto?” She once again hopelessly called. Tanaka made her way upstairs as she searched for Hiroto.

“Breaking news…” The voice of the reporter rang through the silent house as Tanaka entered their bedroom. “… we just received news that a Japan airlines…”

A terrifying scream ricocheted through the house, followed by a loud thump. Tanaka’s face was painted in an unadulterated horror as her eyes locked on the book. She slowly scooped it up and flipped through the pages, reading the blood red story as she went. The book was one hundred pages long, but filled out like a diary, with different entries dating back to two days after Hiroto and Tanaka first started dating. Each entry contained a story far worse than the previous and was described in spine shivering detail.

“…flight 1754, from Osaka to Los Angeles California reportedly exploded midflight. Precisely one hour and forty minutes into the flight, flight control lost contact with the plane. Search and rescue teams have located the plane, but it is not likely that there are any survivors.” The news reporter continued.

Page after page, entry after entry; there were names and dates and stories. All horrifying events, all secrets of Hiroto never to be told to the public. Tanaka wept as she flicked through in shock and dismay. One hundred accounts, one hundred records of times Hiroto cheated on Tanaka. One hundred people, one hundred victims that Hiroto violated, then stole from this planet. One hundred souls never to be seen again, one hundred spirits ripped from this plane of existence. Tanaka cried a river, soiling the pages as she went. She arrived on the final page of the book, reading 8 words in black print. The truth will prevail. Those who lie, die.