I used to be the captain of a certain club in high school. Each year we had a tradition where the new members would be forced to go through kimodameshi, a test of courage. When it was my turn to organise it as club captain, I chose an abandoned house where a murder had taken place a year earlier.
There were three new members. We went to the abandoned house in the middle of the night and the new guys were to go in, one by one, and take a badge we had left inside for them.
The first guy went in. We waited and waited, but he didn’t return. So we sent the next guy in to look for him. But he didn’t come back either. Finally, we sent the third guy in. He was physically the strongest, so we had high hopes for him to return. But he didn’t come back either.
It was possible that someone had an accident inside, so the entire team went in to find them. But no matter how hard we looked, we couldn’t find any of the new guys. Then, I heard a noise coming from above. Tonton. Tonton. It was faint, but I could most definitely hear it. Scared, I approached the sound. It was coming from the roof. I opened the window and climbed out.
The third guy we sent in was there. He looked lost, muttering something incomprehensible as he hit the roof with a dirty hammer. Tonton. Tonton. I called out to him, but he didn’t respond. I called the other club members over and we got him down from the roof and took him to the hospital. But he soon passed away.
We continued looking for the other two members, but they were nowhere to be found, and thanks to what happened, our club was abolished.
After that, each year on the day of the kimodameshi, one member of the club would inevitably go crazy and then die. They would all mutter something incomprehensible while hitting the ground with a hammer. Tonton. Tonton. Then, they would die.
Tomorrow is the day of the test. I’m the only one left…
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