Still harbouring immense guilt from being the last person to see his younger brother Hinata prior to his disappearance 13 years ago, Keita (Sugita Rairu) leads a quiet life working in a supermarket and keeping himself to himself. He lives with his amiable school teacher roommate Tsukaka (Amon Hirai) who has issues of his own – namely his second sight, although he seems oddly serene about his ability to see ghosts. The pair’s companionable, easy-going lives are disrupted one day following two strange events: first, Keita finds a missing boy in a nearby forest, and then he receives a parcel from his estranged mother which contains a VHS tape he recorded as a child.

It is this tape that gives Kondo Ryota’s feature debut its title, as the footage shows the moment Hinata disappeared on Mount Mushiro, inside an abandoned building while playing hide and seek with Keita. The footage is suitably ominous in its simplicity; there are no jumpscares, or even anything overtly shocking. Instead, there’s just a pervasive feeling of dread as the young Keita becomes increasingly frantic when he cannot find his little brother. Angry with his mother for sending him the tape all these years later, Keita resolves to confront her.

Meanwhile, Mikoko (Sō Morita), a dogged cub reporter, is looking for Keita, having made the connection between his brother’s disappearance and the child he found recently. But as Mikoko tries to get an interview with Keita, she uncovers more and more odd details about the place where Hinata disappeared and becomes obsessed with the story much to her editor’s chagrin.

Kondo Ryota studied under Hiroshi Takahashi whose providence within J-Horror is strong; perhaps the plot device of a VHS tape is a nod to his mentor, but unlike the tape of the Ring franchise, the curse of Keita’s old family video is metaphorical rather than physical. Yet the film is undoubtedly a ghost story, with Tsukaka nonchalant about his ability to see dead people, and Hinata’s presence (or lack thereof) looming large in Keita’s life. A slow-burn mystery unfolds, imbued with the same unsettling atmosphere of Keita’s videotape, uncomfortable in its simplicity.

It is a tantalisingly restrained film, particularly compared to the ghost stories that loom large in cinema. Similarly, Ryota refuses to hold the audience’s hand, opting for ambiguity that leaves us unsure if we can trust our own eyes, let alone the protagonist who seems so remorseful about his brother’s disappearance. As a debut feature, it is particularly auspicious, remarkable in its simplicity – our human desire to fill in the blanks means the narrative doesn’t end when the credits roll.