The Moving Anatomical Model

Off camera, Katori-chan felt the joints in the mannequin's limbs. They were movable and detachable; a little force was enough to pull them off.

A faint sneer crossed her face. The quality was terrible, far worse than the anatomical model with removable organs she had made at the abandoned elementary school.

The moving anatomical model was a classic Japanese school ghost story.

Although the story dated back to the last century, it remained well known even in the Reiwa era. Its enduring popularity made it one of the most iconic school mysteries.

Inspired by it, Amami Katori had built an anatomical model herself that could crawl short distances across the floor and even launch its prop organs.

It was that abandoned elementary school video that had established her reputation.

With the economic downturn showing no end in sight, competition in livestreaming was growing fiercer. All kinds of pretty young women were flooding into the industry, and simply lowering necklines, raising hemlines, and showing more skin was no longer enough to attract much of an audience.

Her haters accused her of doing nothing but flaunting her sex appeal, but who knew how much effort Amami Katori put in behind the scenes?

Amami Katori was certainly not a trainee shrine maiden, as her public persona claimed. She was actually the daughter of the owner of a small rural machine shop in Wakayama Prefecture, and she had grown up trailing after her father and playing with screws, learning from everything around her.

Among Japan's forty-seven prefectures, Wakayama Prefecture had remarkably little presence. Although it ranked somewhere in the twenties or thirties, the name still left many Japanese people with a string of question marks floating through their minds. Wakayama Prefecture? Yes, that place existed, but where was it? In Shikoku or Kinki?

When Amami Katori was in high school, the economic climate kept deteriorating. The lost twenty years had become thirty, and those thirty looked set to become forty or fifty. Her family's factory, a modest operation to begin with, finally buckled under the strain and closed down, bankrupting the family. Unable to afford university, Amami Katori simply left the countryside for Tokyo to look for an opportunity.

Young people like her were a dime a dozen in Tokyo. She stood out no more than any of them.

Although she found work as a prop maker, she could barely save any money. She could see exactly how the rest of her life would play out.

Tokyo did not belong to her. If Amami Katori wanted to stay in the city, her only realistic option was to find a good husband while she was still young.

Then she ran into a few childhood friends who had come to Tokyo before her and were working in livestreaming. After talking it over, they decided that behind-the-scenes staff could only earn so much. Amami Katori was pretty, too, so she might as well debut as a YouTuber.

After plenty of struggle, she finally built up a small following and earned a little money, giving her some breathing room to think about the future.

Maybe I could make a place for myself in Tokyo on my own?

What troubled Amami Kanon most at the moment was whether she should accept the confession from Kogiso, who handled scriptwriting for the team.

Kogiso was also one of the companions who had followed her into the abandoned mall today, but they had become separated during the initial chaos. Perhaps Kogiso was with Hayama now.

She felt no real spark with Kogiso and regarded their relationship as nothing more than an ordinary friendship. But Kogiso was indispensable to their little team, and a rejection might sow the seeds of a split just as their livestreaming team was gaining momentum.

Just then, she thought she faintly heard a string of screams, followed by a distant clattering and crashing, as though someone were tearing through cupboards and overturning boxes. But when she strained to listen again, she heard nothing.

Katori shook her head and continued streaming, holding the selfie stick in one hand.

Amami Katori explored the clothing section for a while. According to the script, a horror scene should have been set up here, but even after she circled the designated spot several times, the staged scene that should have appeared was still nowhere to be seen.

"Takagi's dropped the ball again."

With no other choice, Amami Katori could only pretend nothing was wrong and leave through the clothing section's back door.

"Katori-chan has explored the whole clothing section, and luckily nothing bad happened. Should I go meet up with Hayama next? But this mall is so big, and I don't know where they are. I'm scared I'll get lost, and I'm scared I'll find something else terrifying..."

Amami Katori adjusted the angle of her selfie stick to point at herself, putting on a fragile expression as though she were about to cry.

Of course, it was entirely an act. She had memorized the floor plan of the abandoned mall's underground level and knew exactly where she was and what rooms were nearby.

Amami Katori had now entered the corridor outside the clothing section's back door. Another mannequin stood just a few steps from the doorway.

"The mannequin behind Katori-chan looks just like the male mannequin at the entrance. They're both missing their eyes."

A comment flashed across the screen.

Amami Katori paid it no mind and kept walking. After only a few steps, a click came from behind her, a soft sound resembling a footstep.

"Who's there?"

Amami Katori looked back and shone her flashlight down the pitch-black corridor. There was still nothing there except the mannequin.

Thinking she had misheard, Amami Katori turned around and took a few more steps. Click, click. This time, she heard the footsteps perfectly clearly, as though something were following her.

"Hayama, is that you? Or is it Takagi or Kogiso? Come out right now, or I'm going to get angry."

Amami Katori swept her flashlight back and forth between the floor and ceiling, but she found nothing unusual. There was nowhere in the corridor for anyone to hide. She was normally bold, but even so, her scalp prickled and her heart pounded.

Finally, the flashlight beam settled on the male mannequin standing in the corridor.

Was that mannequin getting closer to me?

Maybe I'm imagining it. After all, visibility is terrible in this corridor at night. I can't see any reference points clearly, so it's hard to judge the distance.

"I guess I'm getting a little paranoid. After all, I'm only a helpless girl. All alone in a place like this, I can't help letting my imagination run wild."

This time, Amami Katori took a precaution. She adjusted the selfie stick again and raised it with the camera pointing at herself.

That way, the viewers could clearly see both her and the scene behind her. If anyone was secretly following her, her fans would spot them.

She continued forward. This time, she finally stopped hearing footsteps following her. But just as Amami Katori breathed a sigh of relief, she saw that the livestream's comments had exploded!

"Run-!"

"Run-!"

"Run-!"

She looked back and saw the mannequin's limb joints and neck twisting wildly at grotesque angles, making strange creaking noises. Then it toppled facedown onto the floor, its limbs flailing madly as it began crawling in a bizarre, horrifying posture.

A chill unlike anything she had ever felt shot up Amami Katori's spine into her brain, leaving her legs trembling and her scalp prickling.

As though someone had taken the lead and jumped the starting gun, a crowd of mannequins streamed out through the back door, scrambling over one another as they crawled and ran across the floor, lunging toward Amami Katori!