It was a certain summer day.

The incessant buzzing of cicadas echoed, and heat haze rose from the ground. The humid air clung to your skin, and not a single leaf on the trees stirred in the wind. The sun beat down mercilessly, and even the sunlight filtering through the mountain trees seemed to carry a feverish heat.

The mountain path you had casually chosen that day was supposed to be a well-maintained trail for hikers. At first, the path was wide, and you could see other people in the distance. But as you walked further, the presence of others vanished, and even the chirping of birds fell silent. Before you knew it, only the surrounding trees stood in silent vigil.

Even when you tried to turn back the way you came, the scenery was completely unrecognizable. Similar trees, similar rock faces, and similar narrow paths stretched on forever, until you no longer knew where you had come from.

When you pulled out your smartphone, it only displayed the words "No Service."

At that moment, the cicadas suddenly stopped singing. A silence so profound it made your ears ache. It was the instant all sound vanished from the world.

From out of nowhere, the voices of children singing reached your ears.

A nursery rhyme everyone has heard in their childhood.

And yet, the song felt terribly cold and eerie, as if the entire mountain were singing it, or as if it were being whispered right behind your back.

It was a melody that should have felt nostalgic. Yet, a restlessness stirred deep in your chest, and the more you listened, the heavier your feet became. The voices sounded close, but no one was in sight. Strangely, curiosity won out over fear, and you continued down the narrow path as if following the voices.

Eventually, the trees opened up, revealing moss-covered stone steps. At the top of the steps stood a massive vermilion torii gate that seemed to pierce the sky. Beside the gate was an old wooden sign, with the three characters for 'Mikado Village' carved clearly despite the weathering.

If people lived here, you could ask for help. With that thought, you climbed the steps and passed through the torii gate.

In that instant, the summer heat that had been clinging to your skin vanished as if it were a lie. A chilly breeze blew through, making you turn around instinctively. However, the mountain path that should have been there had disappeared without a trace, replaced by an unfamiliar village.

Wooden houses that felt strangely nostalgic. Lush, swaying fields. Time flowing slowly.

But the most alien thing in that landscape was the countless red torii gates standing all throughout the village.