Minobu (Yamanashi Prefecture)
In a little shrine not too far from the town, a loving couple lived peacefully. The man had broad shoulders; he was tall with large dark hair and tired eyes, dressed in traditional monk clothes. The woman had pink hair tied in a ponytail. She dressed in a white kimono and a red hakama that fitted loosely around her body. They dedicated their lives to the gods of Shinto; their parents were monks too, and their grandparents as well.
One day, the wife became pregnant. It was the greatest joy of their lives. A little one running through the shrine at the thought their hearts warmed with love.
After nine months
The peaceful silence of the night was shattered by a cry of pain that pierced through the sky. In the little shrine, three people were reunited to witness the birth of the child; a midwife assisted the two monks in the delivery.
The husband stayed silent but gave a hand for his wife to hold.
The midwife, already tired after four hours of labor, started seeing the head of the baby and shouted, "Push! The head is already showing! You only need to push a little more and it will be over!"
With a final shout, the wife gave birth to her child. The blood loss and the pain caused her to weaken. She looked at her son and smiled, then turned to see her husband as she muttered some weak words:
"Haruto, take care of our child—"
Her breathing stopped, and her heartbeat came to a halt.
Haruto, the husband, looked terrorized and hugged the corpse of his wife, tears rolling down his cheeks while muttering, "No, no, no, no, no, don't leave me, Himari. I can't be without you. Please come back."
He started crying and muttering until a loud scream tore across the room, causing him to look back at the midwife and his child. His eyes widened with fear.
His child had pink hair like his mother, but he had four arms and what seemed like a second face. His abdomen had a mouth—a grotesque sight that left the midwife and Haruto traumatized. Haruto looked at his own child, whom he thought was cursed by the gods. His mind couldn't process any rational thought. The death of his wife had affected him greatly, and the horror of seeing his own child as cursed by the god he and his wife had worshiped all their lives left him with deep mental scars.
He looked at the child and then at the midwife, who had a terror-filled face. She began to run toward the exit. She opened the door and left screaming, "A curse! A curse!" She didn't care that it was late at night. She didn't care about wild animals. Her only thought was the cursed child and how she would become cursed if she touched him.
He lifted the corpse of his wife, looked at the baby one last time, and left to bury her in front of the shrine where they had lived for so many years. After spending three hours burying Himari, he returned home only to hear a cry coming from the room where the baby was born.
He entered the room to see his son crying, requesting the warm embrace of a mother, yet he only encountered the coldness of hate. Haruto then looked at his son, and in an instant his face fell, his eyes filled with anger, his mind filled with negative thoughts.
"You killed my wife," he whispered.
"You are cursed, and you killed my wife," he whispered a little louder.
He approached the baby, and with trembling hands he reached for the child's neck. When his hands were placed on his neck, just before putting force behind his grip, he remembered the words of his wife:
"Haruto, take care of our child."
He looked down at the baby with what could only be described as pure, deep hatred in his eyes at a child whose only fault was being born in a body different from the rest of humanity.
"Your name from today onward will be Noroi, you damn curse," he said as he took the baby, not carefully but with repulsion. He didn't even warm the milk to feed him, disgust present in his eyes as he fed the infant. After feeding him cold milk, he left the child on the floor of the shrine and began walking toward his bed. The events of the day hit him like a truck. When he dropped onto the bed, he started crying and cried all night until he fell asleep.
Three Years Later
In the deep mountains, a shrine could be seen. In front of the shrine, a little boy was sweeping the leaves at the entrance. But this boy was not normal. He was wearing loose clothes that didn't match a child his age. He was tall for his age, but not enough for the clothes to fit properly. The clothes were a hakama that was cut in the middle to prevent the child from stepping on it and tripping, and a kimono that was ragged and brown from overuse. It was cut at the sides to let two more pairs of arms be free. The front of the kimono was open to expose the child's chest, where a second mouth rested on his abdomen. His face had four eyes in a way that made it seem like he had two faces.
This was Noroi, or more commonly named by the monk in the shrine, Noroi no ko, which means "the cursed child."
To the child, the monk living in the shrine was a monk who had found him in front of his torii gate, crying, and then decided to adopt him. He was grateful to the monk for letting him live there, but thinking about how he treated him—screams, blows that made his head spin—his only food being rice with only two servings a day—a frown marked his face as he had no affection toward the man.
Hearing steps coming toward him, he straightened up and made a neutral face.
"Good morning, Haruto-bosan," Noroi said with a neutral expression and his back toward the man.(-bosan or o-bosan is a term used to call the monks of the shrines.)
The man behind him had long black hair. He was tall and wore deep dark green traditional monk clothes. Wrinkles marked his face after spending so much time frowning.
"Brat, I want all of this clean before dinner. If it's not clean enough, you will receive two hundred swings on the back from the keisaku. Did you understand me?" he asked with impatience and annoyance.
"Yes, Haruto-bosan," the child responded without much emotion, his face blank. The man grunted in annoyance and left with heavy steps.
Noroi sighed. It seemed like he was going to be punished hard today. It didn't matter if he did his job well; he would always be punished by the monk, who seemed so bitter about life, always looking at him as if he were the origin of all his problems. But Noroi always wondered: if that was the case, why would he keep him? It didn't make sense.
After cleaning the same spot for four hours, the monk came back and shouted, "You brat! What is this? It's so dirty even a pig wouldn't touch this floor!" he said, fuming with rage burning in his eyes.
"Remove your kimono and put your arms high!" he said, his voice full of resentment and anger.
I removed the kimono from my upper body and held my arms high. The monk, who already carried the wooden stick, began hitting Noroi's back. Every hit carried malicious intent, and Noroi flinched with every blow he took.
After the beating, Noroi's back was red and swollen, his breathing ragged and his arms heavy and tired from being held high. But the day didn't end there. After eating his cup of rice, the monk ordered him to go into the forest to pick up wood.
As Noroi began walking through the forest, he saw multiple animals that he deemed beautiful, such as deer, rabbits, and squirrels. Noroi loved being in the forest. All his worries about being beaten or yelled at were gone. He just enjoyed the view and relaxed.
After gathering enough wood in the basket he carried, he returned home, the monk waiting at the door of the shrine—not because he was worried or wanted to thank him, but to yell at him.
"You are late, you brat! I don't have wood to cook, and you arrive this late! Tomorrow I want all the shrine cleaned up before sunset! We have visitors!" he said, his voice full of rage and veins bulging on his forehead as he grabbed the basket violently.
"Yes, Haruto-bosan," I said with no expression on my face and my posture straight, my back still stinging because of the beating.
I walked toward the kitchen and grabbed my bowl of rice. I held it with a blank expression adorning my face. I turned and left for my room—a little broom closet where I barely fit. My bed was just a dirty blanket in the room. I sat down and started to eat the rice slowly.
I settled the bowl at the side of the blanket and as i layed down my back stinging, my eyes getting red as i started to sob. Tomorrow is going to be another day, I muttered to myself as I fell asleep on the dirty rag.