We come at least the final story, about a caving expedition that goes wrong and the personal impact of it. Rounding out the collection is the Epilogue which fills in one gap while reminding us the themes of the collection.
For an explanation, see 7 Days of [Koji Suzuki’s] Dark Water.
“Forest Under the Sea”
Sugiyama and his friend (and fellow amateur spelunker, Sakakibara) have been searching for unexplored caves when they stumble upon one that seems to be new but accessible. Sugiyama does not plan to venture far until they can plan a proper expedition, but Sakakibara pushes further and further inside. Until disaster strikes.
Sugiyama, running out of light and food, has to decide to wait or go forward. Going back is no good. He makes a desperate choice. Years later, we learn from his son the outcome of Sugiyama’s choice.
While being trapped in a dark watery underground is plenty of horror, this one is more about the need to move forward and the love a man might have for his family even when things are dire. It feels immensely personal.
An interesting way to finish out the collection, reconfiguring many of the themes and echoes into a different sort of tale.
“Epilogue”
A short companion to the Prologue, the Epilogue returns to the same grandmother we first met in the collection. She reminisces about how she had to overcome a medical condition years earlier and how she walks near the water for her health. Years before, she found an item which she has thought about for decades.
This object has inspired her to keep going, but also inspired in her the habit of telling stories from debris she finds — the stories in this collection are ostensibly told by her based on items she has found though such a view only slightly holds up to any deep dive — and fits mostly in the context of “Forests” compared to the others.
Does not add too much, just helps to finish out the song.
DEEPER DIVE: “Forest Under the Sea” and Epilogue
HERE BE SPOILERS!
NOTE: Spoilers will not be obfuscated.
It would be incorrect to say that Millennial content creators created liminal horror but they have definitely expanded it to the point that we now consider its existence as part of the wider horror genre.
However, looking back at this collection from the mid-90s it is worth noting just how much Koji Suzuki was playing around with similar themes without, perhaps, the language to truly touch upon the tropes. The recurring elements of dark water and the space beyond makes its own visual dictionary of liminal horror elements. Protagonists are often in between one stage of their life or the next.
Cracks have opened up and water flows down.
“Watercolors” is the thesis of Suzuki’s writing process and “Forest Under the Sea” is thesis of Suzuki’s characters. Both feature water flowing from above to below but while “Watercolors” is about the process of rising up to find the source of a leak “Forest” is about following the water down to try and find a way out.
The underground water that welled up from this stretch of mountains fed a tributary of the River Tama, and upon swelling to much greater proportions, flowed into Tokyo Bay. Beneath the rock that felt so rugged to the soles of his feet ran the groundwater in streams formed of rainwater that had percolated through the hard rock. As Fumihiko Sugiyama thought of that crystal-clear water, something struck him as strangely incongruous. He lived in a high-rise condominium with a magnificent view of Tokyo Bay. He gazed upon the River Tama every day and could clearly remember the color of the water. The water was quite filthy and could only be described as a dirty blackish gray. He wondered how the unsullied, crystal-clear water flowing from the source could be transformed into such an unsightly mess by the time it reached Tokyo Bay.
Knowing as we do by this point that the characters are transfigured by the water, we can see hints of what is to come. The transformation into horror.
The title is an odd rejoinder to the first story’s title. In the way that “Floating Water” makes little sense, then neither does “Forests Under the Sea” [in any context related to the story].
I wonder, just a bit, if the sexual imagery of the story is intended. Sugiyama throwing caution to the wind to climb down the shaft. The curtains of rock. The slick of the walls. An inverted trip back into the womb.
But not a quitting. Not a retreat. A rebirth of sorts. A return to the water because eventually everything returns to the water.
Even when we know there is no way out, we sometimes have to press ahead in search of one, no matter how dim the prospects.
Sugiyama is the rare character of this entire collection who faces the horror and chooses to move through. It does not avail him much, but it gives him a form of control.
We also get our upteenth reference to the number four as he waits four days before trying to travel out. Suzuki knows what he likes.
Then in the Epilogue we find out that Kayo, the grandmother from the Pro-/Epilogue, is the one who found Sugiyama’s note to his son and this prompted me to go back and re-read the Prologue. Here was a reminder that these stories are given from her to her granddaughter as prompts from trash found floating up. Stories, water, and debris. It does not do a lot on its own but it works well enough to give us a glimpse into some untold elements from “Forest.”
The Debris Guessing Game
It also makes an interesting game to try and figure out what debris might have inspired each story. The Epilogue directly confirms Sugiyama’s film case and letter. Angelica from “Solitary Isle” makes a direct appearance. We see a bit of a shipwreck which could have been from a couple but “The Hold” seems likely. Others are more playful guesswork.
For “Floating Water,” it seems a red bag with Hello Kitty upon it makes the most sense. Likewise, for “Dream Cruise,” we can imagine a child’s shoe with Mickey Mouse.
How about “Watercolors”? Noriko’s time as a dancer does nothing much for the plot, so perhaps something hinting at a dancer? Maybe. I guess it would likely be strands of multi-colored hair.
This primarily leaves “Adrift” and while it could be a number of things — a bottle with something unidentifiable inside, a piece from a rescue raft — the great difference from the others, which all rotate around Tokyo Bay and the new construction in some way, brings to mind the dream about crushing your own legs. Something a grandmother might feel while out for a walk to keep the pained joints moving.
That or grandmother has an ancient cursed object just sitting somewhere near her house. Tricksy old woman.