【Japanese Horror】The Hundred Horror Tales — Episode 53: It Never Finished Absorbing It | Haunted Kaidan Tales
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Episode 53 – “ It Never Finished Absorbing It| Haunted Kaidan Tales” (Full Text)
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Episode 53 — It Never Finished Absorbing It
The thin white smoke slowly drifted upward toward the ceiling.
For a while, no one spoke.
The feeling from the previous story still lingered in the room.
Aoi’s words seemed to hang there,
refusing to disappear completely.
—If someone stayed in that world…
and grew up there.
That single thought remained in everyone’s mind.
One candle was gone now.
The room had become slightly darker.
Sōma let out a quiet breath.
“…I don’t even want to think about that.”
He spoke softly.
“If you can’t come back…
that means you’re just stuck there, right?”
He tried to sound casual,
but nobody laughed.
Aoi gave a small shrug.
“But… what if that world starts feeling normal instead?”
She stopped there.
No one continued the thought.
Miwa clapped her hands lightly,
forcing a brighter tone into the room.
“Okay, okay… this is getting way too gloomy.”
“Next story. It’s Dad’s turn, right?”
Everyone’s eyes naturally shifted toward Seikichi.
He had been quietly listening the whole time,
his eyes slightly narrowed,
as if he were thinking about something far away.
“…Aye.”
He answered softly.
The candle flame flickered faintly.
For just a moment,
it felt as though a breeze had passed through the room.
Everyone glanced toward the Buddhist altar room.
Only for a second.
Then they quickly looked away again,
pretending not to notice.
Seikichi slowly straightened his back.
“You know…”
“A white tenugui cloth ain’t just an ordinary rag.”
No one interrupted him.
Long ago,
those cloths were originally used to clean Buddhist statues and ritual objects.
“To wipe away dust.
To keep things pure.”
“The color white had meaning.”
“It meant nothing had touched it yet.”
“No stain.
No impurity.”
“It was used to separate what was clean…
from what shouldn’t be touched.”
The candle flame swayed quietly.
“But during the age of war…”
“The way people used them changed.”
No one moved.
“After battles…
there were bodies everywhere.”
“And somebody had to deal with them.”
“To wipe away blood…
to clean the dead…”
“They used white cloths for that too.”
He paused briefly.
“People said it was to keep the impurity off themselves.”
His eyes lowered slightly.
“But that wasn’t really true.”
The room became still.
“They weren’t removing it.”
“They were just passing it somewhere else.”
The candle flickered once more.
“My grandfather told me this story long ago.”
“Back then…
the traces of war still remained everywhere.”
“Beyond the mountains…
along the rivers…”
“There were still bodies left untouched.”
“And they couldn’t just leave them there.”
“So some of the villagers would go deal with them.”
“Before burying the dead,
they would wipe away the blood and dirt.”
“And the thing they used for that…
was a white tenugui cloth.”
“People said it was to avoid touching the impurity directly.”
“But that was only the excuse.”
“The truth was simpler.”
“They believed the impurity would pass into the cloth instead.”
“That’s why…”
“Once a cloth had been used,
it had to be disposed of right there.”
“You were never supposed to bring it home.”
“You weren’t supposed to let anyone else touch it either.”
“And of course…
you could never wash it.”
“Most people think washing it in the river would carry it away.”
“But that wasn’t what they believed.”
“It would spread.”
“That’s why they never washed them.”
“They left them as they were.”
“And they kept using the cloth…
until no white remained.”
“Once the entire thing turned red…”
“That was the end.”
“You couldn’t keep using it after that.”
“It would hold too much.”
“So they burned them.”
“What belonged to the earth was returned to the earth.”
“And what became smoke…
was returned to the sky.”
“If they didn’t do that…”
“It stayed behind.”
“Inside the cloth.”
He paused for a moment.
“But…”
“There was one man who ignored the rules.”
“A young man.”
“He stripped armor and valuables from the bodies…”
“And hurried off to sell them first.”
“The cloth was left behind.”
“Still stained deep red.”
“The man went back down the mountain after that.”
“He sold the armor and everything else he had taken.”
“Turned it all into money.”
“And spent the night drinking.”
“He still remembered the cloth at first.”
“But eventually…”
“He must’ve thought,
‘It’ll probably be fine.’”
“So he left it there.”
“Even though he knew the rule.”
“He knew it had to be burned.”
The candle flickered softly.
“The next day…”
“Sometime after noon,
he suddenly remembered it again.”
“And the thought started bothering him.”
“So he went back into the mountains alone.”
“He found the place right away.”
“The cloth had been left there the day before.”
“But…”
“The tenugui was gone.”
“Only a faint stain of blood remained.”
“The cloth itself was nowhere to be found.”
“He figured someone else had burned it.”
“That was the rule after all.”
“You weren’t supposed to leave it behind.”
“So he thought…”
‘That’s the end of it.’
“And he went home.”
“But later that same day…”
“Something strange began happening.”
“When he picked up his sake cup,
his hands kept slipping.”
“Nothing was on them.”
“But he kept wiping them anyway.”
“Again and again.”
“No matter how much he wiped them,
he said they still felt filthy.”
“And after a while…”
“He started touching his neck.”
“He said it felt like something was wrapped around it.”
“Even though there was nothing there.”
“His family checked too.”
“There was nothing around his neck.”
“But he kept touching the same spot.”
“Over and over.”
“As if tracing something with his fingers.”
The room stayed silent.
“And then…”
“The following morning…”
“They found him inside his house.”
“He was sitting against the wall.”
“Still upright.”
“With a tenugui wrapped around his neck.”
“Tight.”
“He was pulling it himself with both hands.”
“His fingers were dug deep into the cloth…”
“But his face didn’t look painful.”
“Only his eyes…”
“They were wide open.”
“Staring straight ahead.”
“But that wasn’t the strangest part.”
“There wasn’t a single wound on his neck.”
“No blood.”
“And yet…”
“From the cloth wrapped around him…”
“Blood kept dripping.”
“Drop…”
“…by drop.”
“Onto the floor.”
“But it never spread.”
“It just stayed there.”
“No one knew where it was coming from.”
“No one even knew whose blood it was.”
“The only thing anyone knew…”
“Was that the cloth was wet.”
“Still red.”
“And it never dried.”
“…You understand now, don’t you?”
“He never burned it.”
“So it never ended.”
“He probably thought somebody else had taken care of it.”
“But that wasn’t what happened.”
“It simply disappeared.”
“That’s all.”
“And what was inside it…
stayed there.”
“A tenugui cloth doesn’t end its job just because it wipes something away.”
“It takes it in.”
“Everything it touches…
stays inside.”
“As long as some white still remains…”
“That means there are still untouched parts left.”
“But he abandoned it before it was fully used.”
“And he never burned it.”
“So what happens then?”
“…It comes back out.”
“Because it can’t stay unfinished forever.”
“What gets forced into something…
will always search for somewhere to go.”
“And it goes to the nearest place.”
“To the one who touched it.”
“To the man himself.”
“It doesn’t let go.”
“You might think you left it behind…”
“But the moment you become involved with it,
it’s already too late.”
“That’s why they said never to wash them.”
“It doesn’t flow away.”
“It spreads.”
“And burning them…”
“Wasn’t meant to destroy anything.”
“It was meant to return it.”
“What belongs to the earth…
returns to the earth.”
“What rises as smoke…
returns to the sky.”
“They had to separate the two.”
“Otherwise…”
“It stays behind.”
“Building up inside.”
He lowered his eyes slightly.
“…The blood from that cloth…”
“Probably never belonged to the man at all.”
“It was simply what the cloth had wiped away…”
“Coming back out again.”
“That’s why…”
“You shouldn’t misuse a tenugui cloth.”
“If you think it’s just an ordinary piece of fabric…”
“You’ll regret it.”
“Long ago,
people kept them separated properly.”
“The ones used to clean Buddhist statues…”
“And the ones used for everything else.”
“They were both white.”
“But they did not mean the same thing.”
“…But these days…”
He let out a quiet breath.
“Nobody cares about that anymore.”
“They wash them.”
“Hang them out to dry.”
“And use them again.”
“You can’t tell just by looking at them.”
“Some still look perfectly white.”
“But…”
“You can never know what’s inside.”
A brief silence followed.
“Whether something still remains in it or not…”
“…You can’t tell by looking.”
No one spoke.
“And there’s no way of knowing where those cloths end up.”
“They might already be mixed in…”
“With ordinary things.”
“And people still use them.”
“Without noticing.”
“Without knowing.”
Seikichi slowly raised his eyes.
“Well…”
He gave a faint smile.
“I don’t use them anymore.”
Then he lowered his gaze again.
“The ones that stay perfectly white…”
“Those are the creepiest.”
He muttered the words softly.
“They look untouched, don’t they?”
“…That’s exactly what makes them dangerous.”
No one moved.
The candle flame flickered faintly.
Seikichi slowly inhaled.
And then—
He gently blew out the flame.
—fuu.
The fire trembled quietly…
…and disappeared.
A thin trail of white smoke rose into the darkness.
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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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