Countdown

Sabrina Yang '26

At the foot of Mount Fuji lies a dense forest, Aokigahara. It’s often called the Sea of Trees, but has earned its name, the Suicide Forest, after many reported suicides. Although this story is fiction, it’s based on documented accounts.

Five.

The piercing sunlight slithers through the slim cracks of the faded pink curtains as he stares, entranced, at his screen. The narrative of the two in front of him is abundantly clear. Overwhelming tiredness threatens to part his attention from the article on his screen, words blurring together until all he can see is the black fog of text. There is no time to stop, no time to rest, and he is not about to give up. He stands to check his bag one last time. The unique laser blue tape, the portable camouflage tent, and the length of rope.

Four.

He sits down at a smooth cherrywood table as his mother walks in to see him.

“Morning,” she says, “are you busy today? If not, why not go to the market with me?”

Silently, he lifts his head to meet the hazel eyes of his mother. Her eyes are dripping with the honey of love but never sharing its sweetness.

“It’s OK if you don’t feel like it. Maybe you could do the laundry while I’m out?” She continues, “Why not put on a dress? It's beautiful outside and you look so pretty in dresses.”

He just stares at her. No words. No smile. No sound. 

He stands. 

He leaves.

“What time will you come home?”

He disappears.

Three.

A bright light shines on a clear day. A cool breeze blows by, carrying the sweet aroma of sakura blossoms, the petals falling like snow when the gentle breeze brushes against them. The eternal blue sky is a backdrop to the silver-lined clouds drifting past. The sea of trees spreading forever in front of him. A beautiful lush green darkness that few rays of sunlight are brave enough to touch. Perfectly sculpted trees and low-growing plants line the entrance to the once-barren lava field. The countless trails winding around the mountain base each boasts their own views and beauties. Such serenity is hindered only by the sign "Your life is a precious gift from your parents. Please think about your parents, siblings and children. Don't keep it to yourself. Talk about your troubles." He drifts past the sign without a second glance and disappears along the bend of the trail.

Two.

“It’s nice to see you.” A silent voice calls from beyond the trail, “Are you here to join the few from earlier?”

He stands still, the appearance of the ever-familiar voice beckoning him to take one more step.

“Right, you are the quiet one,” the voice sounds disappointed. “What would bring a pretty girl like you to this point? Aren’t all the boys falling head over heels for you?”

He draws in a deep breath and swings around as if he could catch the voice that has haunted him for so long.

“Remember to do the laundry for your mom; a girl must do her housework.”

He claws at his throat as if he could kill the voice and live for HIMself.

“You’ll be fine if you just hide it.”

The ever-prominent voice in his head turns to his friends, two beautiful girls, each with faces full of disgust. 

“You're a boy?” one voice says, “it's ok...” She lies to escape, avoiding my eyes and leaves. I’m left alone with the sight of her walking away.

And my other friend: “If I was trans my parents would throw me out. How brave of you.” Alone. I stand alone as everyone leaves my side. They see me but never walk to me, leaving me alone.
He takes the final step. 

Rejected.

Abandoned.

One.

There is nothing to regret anymore. A simple problem with a simple solution. The spirits spread their hands to catch him, to welcome him into the one place he believes is safe. All that will be left is a missing person report. Stretches of yellow and red tape surround him, tangled on the trees like giant spider webs, each delicate strand of silk eventually leading to a lost soul. He adds his tape to the web. He follows a nearby yellow strand that leads him to a doll, nailed upside down to a tree, another exiled soul wandering the woods. The yellow tape abruptly ends with nothing in sight, no dangling rope. That person must have gone home. He set up his tent and he doesn’t turn back.

Zero.

“Does anyone know what happened to her?”

“I had no clue!”

“Yeah, she always seemed ok.”

“This is the third person. You sure these people have nothing to do with the disappearances?”

“Yes, these people are unrelated.”
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“It’s just another missing one. You know how many random people come to this forest, but not all of them come out.”

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