Hey, can I tell you something?
Do you know Shinobazu Pond? The one in Ueno Park, where lotus leaves drift across the water. During the day, couples row boats out there, laughing, looking so happy. It's a peaceful kind of place, really.
But listen — just wait a moment. I heard this from a friend of mine.
This friend knew a girl — I'll call her A. Not long after A started dating her boyfriend, the two of them went out to Ueno together. Late spring, the afternoon edging toward evening. At the boat dock on Shinobazu Pond, they rented a boat and pushed off onto the water.
I'm only going on what I was told, so I can't swear to every detail — but A says she's never forgotten that day. The sunset was reflected on the surface, she said. Beautiful. Every time her boyfriend pulled the oars, the water opened into rings. She felt so happy.
But then. When they drifted out toward the middle of the pond.
The smell of the water changed.
Up until that moment it had been the ordinary smell of a pond — earthy, a little muddy. Then suddenly: something cold, something sweet, something like — flowers. Not lotus blossoms. Heavier than that. A sweetness so thick it was almost suffocating. A said, *doesn't something smell strange?* Her boyfriend couldn't smell anything at all.
And that was when she noticed.
Looking back toward the shore, she could see people queuing at the boat dock — and there on the surface of the water, the shadow of their boat. Two shadows inside it.
But.
When she leaned over and looked down at the water, there were three shadows.
The boat's shadow, their two shadows — and one more, just behind the stern. Tall. Thin. Standing upright, as if rising from the depths. A grabbed her boyfriend's sleeve and they both stared down at the surface together.
And the shadow slowly raised its face.
As though looking up at them from beneath the water. She couldn't make out any features. Only the outline. But it was turned toward them. She was certain of that.
A said she couldn't make a sound. Her boyfriend laughed it off — *you're imagining things* — and started rowing back toward shore. But A couldn't bring herself to look behind her. Not once, the whole way back.
Those few minutes before they reached the dock. She felt something watching her from behind the entire time.
Not just watching — more like being touched. A sensation at her shoulder, as though slender fingers were slowly, softly, stroking it.
She never turned to check. Because she didn't know what she might see if she did.
Three weeks later, A and her boyfriend broke up. No particular reason — just a feeling that things weren't working anymore. Neither of them could point to anything specific.
The night of the breakup, A was alone and crying — and then, faintly, she smelled it again. That thick, sweet floral scent.
Her window was closed.
There's an old story that Benzaiten grows jealous, and maybe that's all it is — just a superstition. But that's not the part that stays with me.
It's the third shadow A saw on the water.
Whatever was looking up at them from the bottom of the pond.
What on earth, I keep wondering, was it waiting for?
You know — Shinobazu Pond is out there right now, still and full of water. Lotus leaves on the surface. Boats lined up along the dock.
And that shadow, I think, is still there tonight. Down in the water, waiting.
