Unit 6E

The storm arrived just as the microwave pinged. Through his sixth-floor window, Ryo watched as lightening illuminated the identical apartment blocks of Kita-Kashiwa, their looming silhouettes stark against the purple-black sky. Thunder followed soon after causing the lights to flicker once, twice and then die completely.

 

Ryo stood motionless in his dark apartment, still holding his heated bento. In the sudden silence, the hum of his refrigerator fading to nothing felt oddly final. He placed the food on his counter and fumbled for his phone, switching on its flashlight.

 

Ten past eight. Too early for bed, too dark to read. He remembered the emergency candles in his kitchen drawer - a gift from his mother when he'd moved in six months ago. "You never know," she'd said, and he'd rolled his eyes. Now, as he lit the first one, the small flame casting shadows that danced across his walls, he felt a flicker of gratitude.

 

The building settled into the kind of quiet that only comes with a power outage. No TV sounds bleeding through walls, no washing machines spinning, no elevator hum. Just the rain against his window. Shining the stark light around his small apartment, Ryo found his food. At least he has that, he thought. He began to eat but something made him pause.

 

Footsteps.

 

Ryo tilted his head, listening. They were coming from the corridor outside, moving with a strange regularity. Not the hurried steps of someone searching for a flashlight or checking on neighbours, but steady and rhythmic.

 

More footsteps joined the first, falling into the same monotonic rhythm. Curious, Ryo moved to his door and peered through the peephole. In the darkness of the hallway, he could make out the glow of a phone light moving past. Yamamoto-san from 6C, he recognized her floral housedress. She walked stiffly, her free arm swaying in time with her steps.

 

Behind her, another light appeared. And another. His neighbours, walking in procession, all matching that steady pace.

 

Ryo opened his door slightly, holding his candle. The small flame revealed Suzuki-san from 6A, the young salaryman who usually rushed past with a quick bow. Now he moved with the same mechanical gait as Yamamoto-san, his face slack and eyes fixed ahead.

 

They were all walking toward the end of the corridor. Toward Unit 6E.

 

Ryo frowned. Nobody lived in 6E. The previous tenant had moved out weeks before he arrived, and the building manager had mentioned something about repairs being needed before it could be rented again. He'd never seen the door opened, never heard sounds from within.

 

Yet now, in the darkness, his neighbours moved toward it like iron filings drawn to a magnet. Even the old man from 6D, who rarely left his apartment, shuffled past Ryo's door in his house slippers, his footsteps punctuated only by the tap of his walking stick as he moved.

 

Lightning flashed again, and in that instant, Ryo saw what his candle's glow had hidden - all of his neighbours were smiling. Not their usual polite smiles of passing recognition, but wide, empty grins that didn't reach their eyes.

 

From all around, Thunder cracked, and Ryo jumped, nearly dropping his candle. The flame flickered, sending shadows skittering across the walls. He counted his neighbours as they passed: seven, eight, nine. Everyone from the sixth floor.

 

A sound drifted back from the direction of Unit 6E - a low hum, which Ryo felt through the soles of his slippers rather than heard. It matched the rhythm of their footsteps perfectly. Ryo's heartbeat quickened as he realized he could feel it too in his chest, like a beat from a distant drum.

 

He should close his door. Call the police, maybe. But his phone showed no signal. The storm must’ve knocked out the mast, he thought. His hand refused to push the door shut. Instead, he found himself stepping into the hallway, drawn by a mix of horror and fascination.

 

His neighbours had stopped moving. They stood uniformly around Unit 6E's door, still swaying slightly. Their phone lights created overlapping pools of brightness on the floor, all pulsing in unison now. Even their breathing seemed synchronized.

 

Ryo pressed himself against the wall, trying to stay in the shadows. The humming grew stronger. Ryo noticed that the light seeping from beneath the door of Unit 6E wasn't steady, like someone's emergency lighting. It pulsed. Brightened and dimmed. Brightened and dimmed.

 

Like a heartbeat.

 

His own heart lurched, trying to match the rhythm. His body wanting to sway with the others. The candle trembled in his hand, its flame dancing to the same awful tempo.

 

The door to Unit 6E began to open.

 

Ryo wanted to run, but his feet felt heavy, anchored to the floor. The humming was all around him now, pressing against his eardrums. His neighbours' faces turned toward the widening gap, their empty smiles growing broader.

 

Light spilled out – not the warm glow of candles, but something colder. Bluer. More alive. It pulsed with purpose, each beat sending waves of shadow down the corridor but there was something about it that felt profoundly wrong. Something false, like a broken promise.

​

A sharp pain in his hand broke the spell. The candle had burned down, hot wax spilling over his fingers. He hissed and dropped it, the flame extinguishing instantly. In that moment of pain, the humming's hold weakened just enough. Ryo stumbled backward, fighting the urge to look through the door of Unit 6E.

 

As one, his neighbours step forward, moving into the pulsing light. Yamamoto-san first, then Suzuki-san, then the others. Their shadows stretched behind them, growing longer and darker with each pulse of light, until they seemed to blend together into a single mass of shifting darkness.

 

No, Ryo thinks. Closing his eyes tight, focusing on the burn on his hand. Anything to resist the drumbeat pulling him inside. He won’t let it pull him in. With gritted teeth, he clutches his hand, fighting against the pull. Gradually, the pulse begins fade, until only silence and darkness remain.

 

Ryo slumps to the ground not daring to open his eyes. The seconds tick by counted only by his ragged breaths. Through his closed eyes, Ryo sees the lights flicker back on, flooding the hallway with harsh, artificial brightness. Alone in the quiet corridor, he realizes he’s the only one left untouched, the only one who resisted.

 

As the hum of the building settled back to normal, Ryo slowly opened his eyes, blinking in the harsh light. The corridor was empty, doors shut tight, the silence deep and thick. He staggered to his feet, catching his reflection in a window—eyes wide, face pale, like a stranger looking back at him. For a moment, he thought he could still feel the faint echo of that pulse beneath his skin, as if a part of it lingered, buried but not gone.

​

Around him was only silence now. The door of Unit 6E was closed.