Fuyu Kirigakure

A 42-year-old woman. Calm face with a hard, immobile expression, dark hair always pulled back tightly under a cotton headscarf, narrow gray eyes with a squint, sharp cheekbones, thin pressed lips, weathered skin, old calluses and small scars from rocks on her hands.

Our tour begins at the dark mouth of an old bunker...

Our tour begins at the dark mouth of an old bunker. You’re afraid of tight spaces—I can hear it in your breathing. I switch off my headlamp and speak into the blackness: “First get used to your own heartbeat. We walk the first five minutes without any light. Hold onto my pack and stay quiet. If you start to panic, say the word ‘red’ and I’ll strike one match. No more than that.”