I wrote this story in Japanese, and it was translated into English with the help of AI.
“Huh? Ugh, not again—the door’s cracked open a little.”
It hadn’t been like this when I first moved into this apartment. Back then, the closet door shut properly. Now, no matter how carefully I close it, a small gap always ends up forming somehow.
“I don’t know why, but these little gaps really bother me…”
Annoyed, I tried to shake it off and get ready for work. If I didn’t hurry, I’d be late.
I started noticing that gap around the same time the gifts began arriving.
“Gifts”—the word itself sounds nice, but not in this case. Because I have no idea who’s been leaving them.
They’ve been showing up in my mailbox on the 16th of every month for over a year now. When I told a friend, she said it sounded like a stalker.
The gifts vary—bath sets, perfume, cute little hand towels. But they creep me out too much to ever use. I don’t even feel safe throwing them away, so I’ve just been letting them pile up.
Today is the 16th again. It’s still morning, so there’s probably nothing in the mailbox yet, but the thought of what might be there when I get home fills me with dread. Still, since the gifts haven’t caused any actual harm, the police won’t take it seriously.
Just as my workday was about to end, a senior colleague who had once trained me as a new employee approached me.
“Hey, we never did that welcome party for Takano, the new guy, right? We’re doing it today. You’re in, yeah?”
“Oh, okay. Are you organizing it, Mizuno-san?”
Mizuno-san was a sharp, beautiful woman with a brisk way of talking. She had helped me a lot since I started working here.
“Well, I wouldn’t say I’m organizing it, exactly. But come on—let’s go out and have some fun!”
“Sure.”
Honestly, I wasn’t feeling up for much tonight, but this sounded better than going home alone.
“Wow, quite a turnout tonight.”
Mizuno-san smiled as she took the seat next to mine.
“Really. It’s probably thanks to you, Mizuno-san.”
“Oh stop—you’re not getting off that easy. I’m still gonna outdrink you.”
It didn’t feel like a welcome party anymore. People from other departments had shown up too. It felt more like everyone just wanted an excuse to drink. I was impressed they’d even managed to reserve a table for this many people.
After a while, the seating got chaotic—people were tipsy and hopping around to different spots. I never really got drunk easily, so I just sat back and watched. Mizuno-san had already wandered off.
“Yo. Mind if I sit here?”
A man from another department plopped down next to me, reeking of alcohol. I didn’t like him—at all.
His name was Yasuda, around thirty, supposedly good-looking and competent at work. But he was notorious for hitting on women, both coworkers and clients. I’d heard rumors that his behavior had cost him a shot at a manager position.
“Rino-chan, you’re so cute. Quiet and modest, but I’ve always thought you were my type.”
“…Oh, really.”
Nothing good ever came from guys like this.
He leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear. It made my skin crawl. Classic sexual harassment.
“Don’t be so cold. You’ve got a body guys would kill for—especially those big, gorgeous breasts.”
As he spoke, he suddenly grabbed my chest—just for a second, then let go. So quick no one else noticed.
“I—I’m going home.”
I couldn’t take it anymore and stood up. I’d pay my share later. I just needed to get away from him.
“Aw, Rino-chan, don’t forget me next time!”
He laughed loudly—an awful, vulgar sound.
I fled home and immediately turned on the radio.
It was a gift from my beloved cousin Masato, who had given it to me back in junior high. He was five years older than me and my cousin on my mother’s side.
Masato’s father was my mother’s older brother, and his mother had originally been a friend of my mom’s. Our families lived close by, and even though we were both only children, we grew up closer than siblings—maybe even more.
When I told Masato I was thinking of using radio programs to study English, he gave me this radio.
These days, you can just use an app on your phone to listen to radio shows. But for me, when it comes to the radio, I always use the one he gave me.
But Masato is gone now. Completely gone.
His memorial service was held just recently. No one really knows the exact cause of his death. All we know is that he fell from a cliff…
Whenever something awful happens, I hold onto the little charm he gave me and listen to the radio he gifted me. It doesn’t matter which station. I just pick one at random—just like we used to do together.
Masato was my first love. I really, truly loved him. He was kind and handsome.
But he’s gone now.
“I wish I could see you again…”
Music was playing on the radio. I clutched the charm I always carried.
“Masato-oniichan… I had such a horrible day today.”
“Ri… Rino…”
“Huh? Oniichan?”
I thought I heard his voice. Faint, but unmistakably his.
“Rino… Rino…”
“Radio? Is it coming from the radio?”
His voice was barely audible, mixed into the background of the broadcast.
Tears streamed down my face.
“Oniichan… Masato-oniichan…”
“Ri… Rino… he… help…”
Peeee—kkkshhh—gaaa…
The radio suddenly let out a harsh burst of static. His last word had sounded like “help.” Was he asking for help? Was he still suffering?
My head spinning, I turned the radio off and back on again.
The program resumed as usual—no voices, no static. Just… silence.
“Oh, I must’ve fallen asleep without realizing it…”
I was definitely lying on my bed. I thought I had been listening to the radio the whole time, but it looks like I dozed off.
A program was playing on the radio. Leaving it on, I hurried to get ready. Since I had woken up later than usual, I had to rush or I’d be late for work.
From time to time, strange static noises came from the radio.
“It’s been acting weird since yesterday. It’s important to me… maybe because I left it on all night?”
I reached out to turn off the radio. Just then, I heard a clatter behind me. When I turned around, I saw the closet door, which I was sure I’d shut tightly after grabbing my clothes, now slightly ajar.
From that narrow gap in the closet, I couldn’t see anything. It felt like a pitch-black void stretched far into the back, and for some reason, it scared me. I forced myself to open the closet door.
The radio, still playing, continued to emit static-filled programming. I turned it off and left the closet wide open as I left home.
When I stepped out of my apartment and reached the first floor, I glanced at my mailbox.
I’d rushed home the day before and hadn’t checked it. It was the 16th again—maybe another gift had arrived…
I didn’t check the contents and simply headed to work.
When I arrived, the office was abuzz.
“Thanks for your hard work yesterday. Hey, did something happen?” I asked the senior coworker next to me.
“Oh, you know Yasuda? The guy with the flashy love life? He died yesterday.”
“What?! But he was at the drinking party like usual…”
I couldn’t hide my shock. Sure, yesterday had been unpleasant, but I didn’t think it was enough to drive someone to death.
“They say he fell from the train platform on his way home. He’d had a lot to drink, maybe lost his footing. No one saw it happen.”
“You seem to know a lot…”
“Well, it’s already a huge rumor.”
Yasuda was popular with women, but I’d heard some were treated badly by him. Lately, there were even rumors of harassment. I might’ve been one of the victims yesterday.
So maybe someone had really held a grudge against him…?
Still, the fact that someone who had been just fine yesterday could suddenly die left me feeling ill all day.
As I got closer to home, I remembered I needed to check the mailbox.
The gifts weren’t always inside the box. Larger ones were delivered directly. Sometimes a name was written on the sender label, but it was always someone who didn’t exist.
When I reached the mailbox, I saw that the dial lock was undone and a slight gap was visible.
My chest thumped dully.
I thought I heard a faint sound behind me and turned sharply. No one was there. I looked around—still no one.
Nervously, I opened the mailbox. Inside were two small packages and a few other items. They clearly wouldn’t fit without opening the mailbox.
If I tried putting them in, the lid wouldn’t close fully—leaving a noticeable gap.
I wanted to leave them there.
Who knew the combination to the lock? Who was it?
I took the packages and walked to the nearest convenience store, where I threw them away. Since there were no addresses, I was sure they were the usual gifts from the 16th. Even if they weren’t, I didn’t care.
I quickly changed the mailbox’s lock combination.
Back inside, I felt a bit calmer.
I turned on the radio. Classical music was playing. Leaving it on, I went to shower.
After showering, I sat on my bed and noticed something odd about the closet in front of me.
“Huh? Didn’t I leave it open before I went out?”
It was closed now—or rather, just slightly ajar, just like that morning.
I shook my head over and over. I must be imagining things. I had been in a rush, after all…
“Rino.”
I thought I heard my brother Masato’s voice softly call my name from somewhere.
“Maybe it’s coming from the radio again?”
I put my ear to the radio.
“Rino… that guy… died… good riddance…”
I pulled back. I was sure I’d heard it—“It’s good that guy died,” in my brother’s voice.
“Brother… no one deserves to die… that’s not right…”
I suddenly felt deeply sad and started to cry. It wasn’t Yasuda’s death that made me cry—but the fact that my brother had said something so cruel.
The next day was Saturday, and I had no work. With no particular plans, I decided to go buy some groceries and opened the front door.
“Eek!”
Right by my feet were the two small packages I had thrown away at the convenience store yesterday. They looked a bit dirtier than before, but they were unmistakably the same ones.
I quickly shut the door and went back inside.
“W-Why? I definitely threw those away yesterday…”
My heart was pounding. I was scared—honestly scared. I felt sick. I wished my brother were here in times like this…
But I had almost no food at home, so I couldn’t afford not to go shopping. I mustered my courage and rushed outside, avoiding looking at the packages. I locked the door and went shopping.
When I came back, both packages had disappeared from beside the door.
Lately, strange things have been happening. Maybe I imagined it earlier? Maybe I was subconsciously stressed?
“Am I just tired?”
I put away the groceries in the fridge.
Then I flopped onto my bed and turned on the radio.
Even if I was tired, too many inexplicable things were happening. Something felt off—but hearing my brother’s voice through the radio from time to time, that was something I still cherished.
The closet door was slightly ajar. I hadn’t touched it since coming home yesterday. I’d been pulling clothes straight from the laundry pile.
“Run…”
Suddenly, my brother’s voice came from the radio.
Did he just say “run”?
“R-Rino… run. Get… out… of… the room…”
A wave of tension surged through me.
Why would my brother say something like that? Was he trying to warn me of some danger in this room?
Without turning my head, I looked around.
Gradually, the sound of my heartbeat and breathing grew sharper in my ears.
Sweat was beginning to form in my palms.
Because — there were subtle, tiny differences in the room from when I’d left it earlier. The tissue box had shifted slightly, the cup I’d left in the sink was now on the table…
But the scariest part was that—hidden in a corner of the room—were the two small packages. The same ones I threw away, the same ones I’d found outside my door that morning.
The closet — still just barely open — made a faint clattering noise, but it was drowned out by the sound of the radio.
“Run… Rino.”
I must be the only one who can hear my brother’s voice… right?
I have to escape—someone is in that closet—the person who left the gifts—Brother—I’m scared.
“Oh no, I forgot to buy miso.”
I said that aloud as I stood up. If they noticed I was trying to flee, I might get caught. So I pretended I had a reason to go out.
I didn’t actually need miso. It was just the first thing that popped into my head.
I just hoped that whoever was in the closet didn’t want to confront me directly. Maybe they just wanted to rummage through my things while I was away?
If not… then maybe, just maybe, it was a psychopath. I’d read somewhere that in situations like this, psychopaths prefer waiting. They don’t come out—they like imagining the moment the unsuspecting victim opens the door themselves…
From the bed to the door wasn’t far. My apartment was tiny. But that short distance felt incredibly long today.
With every step, I felt like my heart might stop. I could feel how nervous I was.
Just as I neared the front door, a loud bang sounded behind me. I jumped and turned around.
A man in dark clothes was rushing toward me.
I tried to open the front door—but it wouldn’t budge. It was locked. My hands were trembling and wouldn’t move as I wanted them to.
Still, I managed to force the door open.
“Kyah!”
I meant to scream “Help!”, but no words came—only a shrill cry escaped my throat.
“Kyah!”
I tried again to shout “Help!”, but still, all that came out was that same yellow cry.
As my second scream left my mouth, the man clamped a hand over it and dragged me back into the apartment.
Help me. Help me. Somebody—Brother.
My body was stiff and barely moved, but I resisted him anyway.
Then—the police burst in. The man was immediately subdued. Apparently, they’d been patrolling nearby and came right away when they heard my scream.
My legs gave out, and I collapsed to the floor.
I don’t remember much after that. Only that more officers arrived, and a kind female officer gently spoke to me…
The next day, I asked my landlord to change the lock on my front door.
It turned out that the man who had been hiding in my closet was the same person who had been leaving gifts for me every 16th of the month.
Through the investigation, we found out that Yasuda hadn’t simply slipped and fallen. He had been pushed onto the tracks by that man and was hit by a train.
The man had witnessed Yasuda sexually harassing me.
I don’t know what was inside the latest packages. I don’t want to know.
Apparently, the man didn’t enter my home with the intent to attack me at first. He was upset that I never brought the packages inside and just wanted to place them in my home.
Even so, he had a spare key to my apartment. Learning that he had entered my home multiple times without my knowledge made me feel utterly sick.
My family told me to come back home, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave this apartment. It holds so many memories of my brother, Masato.
Just before my brother died, it was here—on this bed—that we first became physically close.
I cried from the overwhelming happiness. My brother cried too. That’s why I can’t even think about leaving this place.
Cousins are allowed to marry in Japan… I truly believed we would.
On my next day off, I went to the cliff where my brother’s body had fallen. It was the first time I’d been there.
The cliff faced the sea. I remembered Masato once told me it was where he had gone on his first date with a woman he was seeing at the time. I hadn’t come here for that reason—just stumbled upon the place—but he said she was afraid of heights and had looked adorably frightened.
He had even talked about marriage… but she betrayed him.
She got drunk and slept with another man. Not just once—multiple times after that.
Eventually, she and my brother broke up. After that, she wandered into the road and was hit by a car.
Her body tested positive for drugs. They said her mind had broken down and she probably ran into the road while hallucinating.
“Poor brother… from such a high place…”
I looked down from the cliff where Masato had fallen. It was truly high, and jagged rocks jutted out below. Even for someone like me, who wasn’t especially afraid of heights, it was terrifying just to look.
When my brother died, I wanted to follow him. But after he made love to me, he said something—I could never break that promise.
“Rino, you must never die. Please, promise me you’ll live a long life.”
He made me swear it.
Maybe the death of that woman—so soon after they broke up—was a massive shock for my kind-hearted brother. For someone like her…
That evening, as I returned home, I saw someone standing in front of the apartment. I recognized his face.
“Hey. Long time no see.”
“Why are you here?”
“Well, I need money.”
“I don’t have any.”
“Is that so? You sure you wanna say that? I could go straight to the cops, you know.”
“You don’t have any proof.”
“But you’d definitely be suspected, wouldn’t you?”
Someone from the building passed by, eyeing the man and me suspiciously.
“See? You’re already being watched.”
“Come with me a minute.”
I took him to a nearby park. It was nearly empty—there were hardly any playgrounds left there, and no one else around.
“So?”
“I’m telling you, I need cash.”
“Why now, after all this time?”
“Oh, right. You didn’t know, did you?”
What is this man talking about?
“The stalker guy—you know, the one who was arrested? He’d been paying me off on your behalf until now.”
“Why?”
“To keep me away from you. I thought he was going to kill me at first. But when I told him that if I died, the proof of how you drove that woman to death would come out, he started paying up quietly. You really ought to thank him.”
“You told him everything… didn’t you?”
“Yeah. How you used me to ruin the woman who was with your cousin. The part where we drugged her drink to knock her out, and later got her hooked.”
He was smirking.
“Please don’t tell me… others know too?”
It was a mistake to trust someone like him. I used up all the money I’d saved…
“I was gonna ask you for money, but then I met your precious cousin. He offered to pay instead, so I told him everything. He made me promise not to come near you again… but now that he’s dead, I don’t have to keep that promise, do I?”
I shook with rage. I’d never felt this furious before.
“You bastard—!”
I lunged at him, but he knocked me down hard.
“All I care about is money. This is your fault. If that guy hadn’t been caught, I wouldn’t have come back. I’ll be back—so be ready with the cash.”
Then he walked away like nothing happened.
I scraped my knee and twisted my foot, but somehow I managed to get home.
Inside, I turned on the radio and clutched the charm my brother gave me—the one where I’d hidden a small piece of his ashes.
“R-Rino…”
My brother’s voice came from the radio.
“I’m sorry, brother. I didn’t care if you dated someone. But I couldn’t stand the thought of you marrying anyone but me…”
I sobbed.
“R-Rino… it’s okay now. It was my fault I didn’t realize how you felt. That’s why… I tried to carry all the blame alone.”
“Brother…”
“We… were cousins. The law might allow it, but I didn’t think our parents would. That’s why…”
“Brother…”
“I couldn’t forgive you… but I still wanted to protect you. I loved you so much… But I couldn’t bear it anymore… and gave up on living. Please forgive me.”
“It was my fault…”
Beeeep. Ksssshh. Zzzzzz…
Suddenly, the radio went silent—his voice was gone.
“Please, brother, let me hear your voice again…”
I clutched the radio and cried.
“Rino… that man will die soon.”
A voice—clear and unmistakable—came from inside the room. I looked up and froze, staring at the closet.
The voice had come from the small gap in the closet door. And there—yes, I could see him. My brother.
He was standing pressed against the inside of the closet door, staring out at me through the crack. It startled me, but I wasn’t afraid. How could I be afraid of him?
“B-Brother…”
Only static came from the radio.
I set the radio down on the bed and stepped toward the closet. I stood before the slightly open door.
“Brother…”
Feeling his presence behind it, I slowly opened the door.
But inside—there was no one. Only the static noise of the radio filled the room.
That night, I dreamed the man who threatened me was run over by a car and died. In the dream, my brother held me in his arms.
Since then, the man has never shown his face again.
Even now, sometimes I still hear my brother calling my name through the radio.
Sometimes, I see him through the gap in the closet. And I wait for those moments—long for them.
“Rino… you belong to me, and me alone. I’ll protect you… from anything.”
Today again, my brother speaks to me through the radio.
“Hey, listen to this for a second.”
A guy who joined the company the same year as I did started talking to me.
“This is something from when I was a kid. But it really happened.”
And so, his story began.
“Back then, I had a radio in my room, and I used to listen to it all the time. Sometimes I’d leave it on, and my parents would scold me for it…”
His story continued. I had no choice but to nod along while half-listening.
“Then one day, I started experiencing sleep paralysis. I think it started when I was in middle school? Back then, we were living in one of those apartment blocks that looked like housing complexes. It all started one afternoon when I was home alone, taking a nap. Suddenly, I was paralyzed. That was the first time. Then I heard the sound of someone coming in through the front door. I was terrified. I knew for sure it wasn’t my family. And it wasn’t a burglar either.”
Looks like it’s going to be a long story.
“On top of that, the whole time, the radio was making this static noise—like ‘shhhhhh.’ That’s when I thought, ‘This is bad.’”
Being forced to listen to a story you’re not interested in is pretty rough.
“After that day, the sleep paralysis kept happening. And every time, the radio would be making that same static noise. At first, I thought it was just broken or something, but eventually it got too creepy, so I decided to throw it away.”
That sounds like the sensible thing to do.
“But that very night, after throwing it out, I had sleep paralysis again. And I heard that same static sound from the radio. But this time, I heard something else too.”
Something else?
“A deep voice saying, ‘Die, die, I’ll kill you.’ It was filled with this murderous intent—it was seriously bad.”
He glanced over at my face.
“Hey, I realized something—it sounded a lot like your voice…”
“Yeah, it probably did. That was my voice.”
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The Storytelling Wolf
