Silent Days Chapter 3: Episode 2: Selva Nebbiosa, a School Days + Silent Hill Crossover fanfic

Episode 2: Selva Nebbiosa

Leitmotif: "The Forest Trail" — Silent Hill 2 unofficial complete soundtrack

-:-

Despite its abundance, Makoto hadn't the foggiest how long he'd been on this trail. It just seemed to go on, forever and ever, and he was beginning to feel like a sleepwalker in the mind-numbing whiteness. An exposed tree root caused him to trip, and Makoto was shaken from benumbment to terror. His mind immediately went to the okuri inu, that canine monster said to stalk lone travelers on treacherous paths, and he looked frantically in the direction from whence he came.

Nothing but whiteness.

Dusting himself off, Makoto let out a self-deprecating chuckle. Look at yourself, Makoto: getting scared 'cause of some ghost story… He resumed his trek, and as he went, he thought of Inori Ashikaga, the source of said ghost story. The priestess of Haramihama Shrine, Makoto's "super-friend" had always been a self-proclaimed expert on all manner of things that went bump in the night and would often regale him and Katou with her stories. Makoto, being a more secular person, had always been skeptical of such things, but he liked to listen all the same.

In the present, Makoto wondered if it was such a good idea thinking about spooky stories in a place like this, but it did break the monotony. His mind went back to the okuri inu, and he remembered another piece of Inori-knowledge: the creature's presence would sometimes be heralded by the birdsong of the yosuzume, itself an ill-omened creature. In this forest, however, no birdsong was reaching his ears, so Makoto figured he was in good shape.

Come to think of it, nothing was reaching his ears. No animal or forest sounds, nothing. Just his own footsteps and breathing. Just like—

He pushed down the memories of a certain subway then quickened his pace to a light jog as if to evade them, but those memories in turn gave way to others more macabre. Parts of the Suicide Forest were eerily quiet, too, weren't they? That documentary had said so… Makoto picked up his pace yet more, but the morbid details caught up with him still. Certain trails had to be restricted to the public not only because of the suicides, but the forest itself was so vast and so dense, it was too easy to drown in the Sea of Trees—

Makoto quickened his pace yet more, sweat pouring despite the December chill. Eventually, and much to his relief, a gazebo appeared out of the fog, an old well within it. After a beeline made, the youth sat on the mouth of the well, panting. "C'mon, Makoto." He spoke aloud so as to better calm his panicked mind. "Don't start losing it now…" The fog was just that, he told himself, and this place was neither Ashfield nor Aokigahara…

Just then, Makoto saw in his periphery what looked like some maps and a handwritten note. Had those been there the whole time…? Deciding not to dwell on spontaneous appearances or their implications, the brunet began to read the note.

Makoto,

I see you've decided to be a good
son. About time.

[The young man groaned. Yet another piss at him…]

I'll be waiting where all begins, in
the Cradle of God.

-Tomaru

"Cradle of God"? The hell…?! Makoto checked the maps, none of which had anything marked. This was turning into a wild goose chase, wasn't it? (As if yosuzume wasn't birdbrained enough…!)

For a moment, he considered going back the way he came. Then he remembered that long walk, how he'd nearly driven himself batty, and was in no hurry to repeat the experience. He'd just have to keep going forward. And if that asshole was gonna string him along like this, then he'd just sightsee around this dump as much as he liked. Makoto stuffed the maps into his jacket pocket, then crumpled up his father's second letter before tossing it into the well.

He didn't have to look very far for something to catch his eye, for across from the gazebo was a plaque. Beneath a photo of an old house, Makoto read:

In Memory of the Wish House Orphans.

Wait. Wish House…? He kept reading, and his suspicions were grimly confirmed. Kidnapping. Brainwashing. Imprisonment. Neglect. Makoto suddenly imagined Itaru, his sweet, adoring little sister, languishing in such a place, and a sick feeling welled in his stomach. Before he could tear his eyes away, something else from the text jumped out at him. Walter Sullivan, the serial killer who had haunted Ashfield, had been one of the Wish House Orphans.

Ice shot up his spine and Makoto again made haste, to the wrought-iron gate at the end of the path. Never was he more relieved go through such a gate nor to hear its resounding clang.

-:-

Cookies to whoever can guess the episode title's meaning and inspiration ;)