【Japanese Horror】The Hundred Horror Tales — Episode 0: Prologue | Haunted Kaidan Tales
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The Hundred Horror Tales — Prologue
The cry of cicadas pounded endlessly in his ears.
The village, surrounded by mountains, felt like a place where time itself had stopped.
Sōma Shiraishi sat on the old wooden veranda, gazing absently at the garden.
No matter how many times he checked his phone, the signal bars never rose above one—or vanished to zero. Messages refused to send, the little spinning icon circling in vain.
“…No signal. Guess this place isn’t part of the modern world.”
He muttered to himself.
But of course, there was no one to answer him. Only the whir of the fan blades and the chorus of cicadas echoed through the quiet room.
This was the Nakamura house—
his mother’s family home, now lived in only by his grandfather. Every year, relatives gathered here during Obon.
For city-born Sōma, though, the heat, inconvenience, and silence combined into a triple blow. It was less a holiday and more like training.
The TV was static. No Wi-Fi.
The nearest convenience store was a thirty-minute walk. At night, insects sang in deafening chorus.
The only thing that seemed abundant here was time itself, dragging on endlessly.
“…Hot as hell, too.”
His T-shirt clung to his back against the tatami. Even the fan’s breeze couldn’t help.
As he wiped the sweat from his brow, the hallway creaked sharply.
“Sōmaaa, big brooo!”
The bright voice came with the sound of running feet.
In burst Aoi Nakamura—his cousin, a fifth-grader—wearing a sunflower-patterned shirt.
Her ponytail bounced as she proudly thrust her picture diary at him.
“Look, look! I drew last night’s fireworks!”
On the page, colorful fireworks filled the sky… and for some reason, a smashed watermelon lay on the ground.
“…The watermelon kinda stole the spotlight.”
“Right!? Uncle Shūji tripped and crushed it! It was so funny I had to draw it! I’m never letting him live it down!”
Her innocent grin made Sōma chuckle softly.
“You’re kinda cruel, you know that?”
“Hehe. But hey, even my super-smart city big brother looks all summery right now!”
“What does a ‘summery face’ even mean?”
“All sweaty! Like you’re drying up into a raisin!”
Just then, a faint whiff of incense drifted from the butsuma, the family’s Buddhist altar room.
Peeking in, Sōma saw Grandpa Seikichi Nakamura sitting upright, hands pressed together in prayer.
Wearing a dark jinbei, his back perfectly straight, he resembled a sturdy tree.
When he finally opened his eyes, Aoi asked timidly:
“Hey Grandpa, aren’t you hot?”
After a pause, Seikichi answered:
“…At this time of year, the heat doesn’t bother me. What I feel more is… the presence of the other side drawing closer.”
Aoi immediately ducked behind Sōma’s back.
“Eek! Don’t say stuff like that—it’s scary!”
“Then maybe don’t peek into the altar room.”
“But I want to look and listen!”
Sōma gave a wry smile. At that moment, the sliding door rattled open.
“Hey, we still got any barley tea left?”
In stepped Shūji Nakamura.
White T-shirt and vest, a faint tattoo on his sunburned arm—he looked intimidating, but his voice carried a breezy tone.
“Oh, everyone’s here. Noisy as ever, huh, Aoi?”
“It’s boring! No internet, too hot outside, nothing to do!”
“Then read a book or something.”
“No way! My brain won’t work in this heat!”
“…Then what the hell am I supposed to tell you to do?”
Flopping down in front of the fan, Shūji gulped his tea.
A cheerful voice followed him into the room.
“My, my, so you’ve all gathered here already.”
It was Miwa Takeuchi—Shūji’s older sister and a distant aunt to Sōma—wearing an apron.
Her permed hair and orange blouse seemed to glow in the summer light.
“The tea’s nice and cold. Don’t let our city boy shrivel up.”
“Seriously, this is life-saving…”
“Sōma, you’ve slimmed down a bit, haven’t you? But breathe in enough country air and you’ll be fine! Go pick some tomatoes from the garden.”
“…If I do that, I might never make it back to Tokyo, Aunt Miwa.”
Laughter spread through the room.
Soon, everyone was seated in a circle on the tatami.
Outside, the cicadas screamed. Inside, an odd hush fell.
“…Guess Obon’s about the only time we all get together like this,” Shūji remarked.
“True. Lounging around together like this—it’s something only the countryside allows,” Miwa said, fanning herself.
“But really, there’s nothing to do.”
Sōma muttered, and Aoi jumped in at once.
“Yeah! Nothing! It’s too hot for bug-hunting, my diary’s already done, and I’m sick of cards!”
“You managed to kill every time-killer there was, huh.”
“Uncle Shūji, come up with something fun!”
“Don’t dump it on me…”
The mood loosened—until Shūji spoke again, almost casually.
“…How about we tell some scary stories? Might cool us down.”
The room shifted, just slightly.
“Whoa, that’s the best idea! Let’s do it, let’s do it!”
As expected, Aoi was the first to bite.
Eyes sparkling, she leaned forward. Miwa chuckled.
“You really do love scary stories. Don’t come crying when you can’t go to the bathroom at night.”
“Th-then… then I’ll make Sōma big bro come with me!”
“…Yeah, no.”
“Meanie!”
Their laughter filled the room, and even Sōma allowed himself a faint smile.
Still, under it all, he felt a prickle of tension in the air.
“Remember how we used to do this?” Miwa said wistfully. “Ghost stories.”
“Yeah. Back in middle school, we even did courage tests in that abandoned house up the mountain.”
Shūji laughed at the memory.
“And even right here, in this house. We’d light candles and take turns telling stories…”
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
“…Didn’t something weird happen once? After one candle went out, we heard a noise…”
“Maybe. But wasn’t that just the wind?”
The room quieted again, memory slipping in like a draft.
Then Grandpa Seikichi murmured:
“…Stories can stir things. Calling them closer.”
All eyes turned to him.
His voice wasn’t loud, barely louder than the fan, but it carried weight.
“Scary tales aren’t the same as reminiscing. When you speak them, something might notice. That’s what people always said.”
Sōma studied his grandfather’s calm face.
The words felt heavy, as if carved from old truth.
But Shūji laughed lightly to dispel it.
“Pops, you say stuff like that and it does get scary. You trying to spook us for real?”
“Heh. Still… I feel a little cooler now,” Miwa added.
A bit of laughter returned, until Sōma spoke up quietly:
“…Then why not go all the way and try Hyaku Monogatari? The One Hundred Tales.”
The room stilled. Everyone turned to him.
“One Hundred Tales… you mean that?”
Miwa asked.
“Yeah. You light a hundred candles, tell a story each, and blow one out after every tale. At the end… something appears.”
Sōma’s lips curved faintly.
“Of course, we can’t make it to a hundred. But even a handful of stories could capture the mood.”
Aoi’s face lit up.
“Yes! Yes! Let’s do it! I’ll set up the candles!”
“You’re hyped before we’ve even started,” Shūji sighed.
“So we each take turns, blowing out a candle with every story,” Miwa confirmed.
Sōma nodded. “That’s it.”
“…And if we do reach the end?”
“Legend says something shows up. But who knows—until we try.”
Silence fell again.
But now, it wasn’t hesitation. It was anticipation.
“I think we’ve got some candles around. I’ll grab them,” Shūji offered, standing.
“I saw some in the altar room!” Aoi cried, tugging him along.
They returned with a handful of white candles.
“Only five. But that’s enough for a trial run.”
“Plenty,” Miwa said with a knowing smile.
“Let me light them!” Aoi declared, striking matches.
One by one, tiny flames flickered to life.
Their glow painted each face with a warm, red hue.
“…So, who goes first?”
Sōma’s calm voice asked. Aoi’s hand shot up.
“Me! I’m first!”
“You’ll just get scared halfway through and cry,” Shūji teased.
“No way! I’m braver this year!”
“Say ‘more grown-up,’ not ‘more different,’” Miwa corrected, and laughter followed.
Then Seikichi, eyes closed, spoke softly:
“…Very well, let us begin.”
The candle flames wavered, as if stirred by unseen breath.
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The Hundred Horror Tales is an original Japanese horror anthology inspired by the tradition of Hyaku Monogatari.
Five storytellers gather around flickering candles to share chilling tales—urban legends, ghost stories, folklore, daily fears, and real encounters.
Can you endure until the last flame goes out?
- Follow for more:
• Twitter: @KaidanTales
• YouTube: @HK_Tales
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