He threw her body in the well and thought that was the end of her, of the harm she would have brought him. He would go back to his life, forget his mistake, honor his wife the way he was supposed to. In time, he became an honest man, save for the dark secret he forgot. He lived his life, honored his wife, and the girl who tried to ruin everything was no more. Nine years passed. His wife gave him three sons, and he knew he was blessed, that he’d been forgiven.
But the girl in the well did not forget. She did not forgive. She did not live her life because he took it from her. She vowed vengeance, and it stewed and festered in her every wound. To pass the time she painted all the ways she would destroy him on the stone walls of the well with her own blood and the pus seeping from her wounds.
In time, her body grew bloated and fat, parts of it rotting and falling away away. She thought she would leave the world soon, but then she gave birth to a daughter, his daughter, and she named that child Fukushū.
She spoke the child’s name with her last breath, and then she died, but Fukushū learned quickly of her mother’s vengeance, of all the ways her father tried to hurt them from the pictures on the walls. As the last piece of her mother rotted away, Fukushū promised they would have vengeance, and every year for nine years she gave birth to herself until there was one of her for every lie her father told her mother, for every time the knife plunged into her mother’s belly.
They would avenge their mother by devouring all of their father’s blessings, and he would know he was not forgiven. He would come to understand that vengeance does not forget.