※This ranks among the scariest tales in Japanese folklore, easily one of the top two. Contains some self-responsibility-themed depictions. Viewer discretion advised.
Real
Original Author: ‘Horror Story Submission: Horror Teller’ ‘Anonymous’ 24 November 2009 12:29
It's not particularly interesting, and I'll try not to drag it out, but I'd appreciate it if you could turn a blind eye to it to some extent.
Right then, I'll write it.
If you find yourself possessed, targeted, or stalked by something, let me make one thing clear from the outset: it's no laughing matter.
Another thing, speaking from my own experience: it's highly unlikely that one or two exorcisms will sort things out.
It takes a long time to slowly erode you, you see. It seems more often than not, it can't be exorcised.
In my case, it's generally about two and a half years.
To be clear, I'm perfectly healthy and able to live a normal life.
Unfortunately, however, it is not clear whether it has ended or not.
I shall begin by writing from the start.
At the time, I was 23. It was my first year in the workforce, so I was just about managing to get by with my new life.
Because the company was small, naturally there were few people who joined at the same time. Inevitably, we became close.
Among that cohort was a chap called ○○ from the Tōhoku region,
This bloke knew all sorts of things, and had an awful lot of acquaintances, you see.
You know how people often say things like, “If you do this, then ×× will happen,” or “△△ will come along”?
I reckon most of those rumours are nonsense, but apparently some of them could actually happen without it being too surprising.
According to him, there are several conditions, and if they happen to all align, that's when it occurs.
In my case, well, it was probably just a bit of mischief.
At the time, I'd only just bought the car and had only recently started living alone,
Above all, the pay was nothing like what you'd get from a part-time job, so I spent my weekends having a right good time.
At the beginning of August, the four of us—myself, the girls I'd picked up and got to know, and ○○—
I went to test my nerve at one of those so-called haunted spots.
The situation was certainly frightening, and I felt a chill, and I had this feeling that something was there, but,
Nothing much happened, so I suppose I just enjoyed the thrill and went home.
It was three days later.
Back then, there was an unspoken rule at the company that new recruits couldn't leave until their boss had gone home, so I ended up staying late every day.
I came home exhausted, and even now, looking back, I still can't quite fathom it,
In front of the full-length mirror by the room's entrance, I did something I shouldn't have done.
I don't think I actually considered trying it; it just occurred to me on a whim.
I shall provide a slightly more detailed explanation.
My room back then was a one-room flat with eight tatami mats, a fifteen-minute walk from the station. Upon entering through the front door, there was a narrow corridor, beyond which lay the eight-tatami-mat room.
The full-length mirror was placed at the entrance to the room, that is, at the boundary between the hallway and the room.
What I'd heard from ○○ was a story about how if you do △ in front of the mirror and look to the right, ◆ will come.
Physically, one ends up in a posture somewhat like bowing.
‘There's no way he'd come,’ I muttered under my breath, just as I turned to the right while still bowing.
Something was in the middle of the room. Its appearance was clearly abnormal.
She was probably about 160 centimetres tall. Her hair was a wild, messy mop that reached her waist, hanging over her face like a curtain.
Actually, there were loads of things stuck to his face like banknotes, so you couldn't see it.
I don't know what it's called, but she wore the white kimono given to the deceased and swayed gently from side to side with small movements.
As for me... I froze.
I couldn't utter a sound, nor could I move a muscle,
My mind was racing at breakneck speed, trying to make sense of what was happening.
Imagine this.
The feeling that something is present in the middle of a soundless room, within a cramped studio flat.
In my head, I know full well what the cause is, yet I can't make sense of what's happening—a whirlpool of confusion.
It's bloody weird, isn't it? I had the light on, but that just made it scarier. You could see that thing suddenly appear.
Only around him did everything appear bluish.
It was so quiet you could almost imagine time had stopped.
For the time being, the conclusion I reached was “to leave the room”.
I picked up the bag at my feet, for some reason slowly and cautiously.
I couldn't take my eyes off it. I thought if I looked away, it would be bad.
As I backed halfway down the corridor (which would normally take three steps, but took ages),
its swaying motion from side to side gradually grew larger.
At the same time, it started making some kind of groaning sound.
Beyond that point, I don't actually remember much. When I came to, I was inside the convenience store in front of the station.
Anyway, I felt relieved to arrive at a convenience store with people around.
But my mind was still in turmoil,
with a feeling akin to anger thinking “What the hell was that?”, and another part of me oddly calm, thinking “I forgot to lock the door”.
In the end, I didn't have the courage to return to my room that night, so I waited out the dawn at a family restaurant.
As the sky began to lighten, I cautiously opened the door to the room. Thank goodness. It was gone.Before entering the room, I stepped outside again and had a smoke while drinking a can of coffee.
I was starting to wonder if there had been nothing there at all. That sort of thing really couldn't possibly exist, after all.
The room had brightened up, and with him gone, I suppose I felt a little more at ease.
I entered the room a bit more boldly than before.
“Right, he's not here,” I thought to myself, switching on the dim light in the room because the curtains were closed.
The scene that met my eyes confirmed last night's events.
Where that bloke had been yesterday, the floor was covered in mud (probably sludge) giving off a terrible stench.
and in quantities far exceeding mere footprints.
It didn't take long to recognise what had happened as fact.
I panicked even more when I realised... wait, I hadn't turned the lights off... ha ha.
Looking at my left hand that pressed the switch, I saw it was covered in mud too.
For a while I couldn't shake off that gloomy feeling, but eventually I thought, well, what's done is done. Well, this is pretty typical of me being an AB type, but even in that state, I cleaned up the mud, had a shower, and went to work. The smell wouldn't go away and it was bloody annoying, and that was a major problem in itself, but taking time off work was a big deal too.
Upon arriving at the office, the usual routine awaited me. I tried to find time to speak with ○○. I was attempting to extract information from ○○, who was involved in the initial incident.
At lunchtime, I finally managed to catch him. Below is an excerpt from my conversation with ○○.
‘Remember that thing we were talking about before, like “if you do △, then ◆ happens”? Well, I did that yesterday and it actually happened.’
‘Huh? What's that?’
‘I'm telling you, something bloody well came out!’
‘Ah, right, right. So you got a pre-cum leak.’
‘You're joking, right? I'm telling you, something bloody awful came out!’
‘I've no idea what you're on about!’
‘I haven't a clue either!!’
No good, we're getting nowhere. Since nothing would progress unless I gained ○○'s trust, I calmly explained yesterday's events. At first, ○○ thought it was a joke, but finally reached a state of half-belief.
After work, we arranged to come to my flat to check it out.
At 10 pm, ○○ and I arrived at the flat, having luckily managed to leave the office early.
The moment I opened the door, the foul stench I'd smelt this morning hit me in the face.
The smell assaulted us, along with the heat, pouring out from the sealed-up room.
Having endured my rather tedious explanation on the way back, ○○
muttered, ‘...Seriously?’ He seemed to believe me.
The question was whether ○○ would offer any kind of solution, but I shouldn't have held out hope.
He left, saying only that we should probably get a purification ritual done and that he'd ask around among his acquaintances,
then fled the scene.
It was exactly as I'd expected, but I'd pinned my hopes on his extensive network.
Not wanting to stay in a smelly place, I stayed at a capsule hotel that night.
Truth be told, I thought tonight might be the end if I went out again.
The next day, I went to a local temple for the time being. I certainly couldn't face going to work. When I explained the situation to the monk, he gave me this rather nonchalant reply: ‘I'm no expert, so I can't really say. Why not take it easy for a while? I'm sure it's all in your head.’ That's just how the world is. That day, I visited several famous temples and shrines in the city, but none of them were any different.
Exhausted, I turned to my family home in Saitama.
To be precise, I wanted to consult a nun known as Sister S, who looked after my maternal grandmother.
Or rather, I couldn't think of anyone else who might take me seriously.
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Allow me to introduce a certain Mr S.
My mother is from Nagasaki Prefecture, so naturally my grandmother lives in Nagasaki too.
Perhaps due to her wartime experiences, my grandmother is a devout Buddhist. Reverend S is the priest at the temple that doubles as his home, which my grandmother visits once a week.
I've met him several times myself.
I'm no expert, but the name of the sect appears in textbooks,
and she has served the Buddha with such steadfast devotion that she bears no comparison to charlatan spiritualists.
She has a gentle disposition and speaks in a calm, kind manner.
Around the time I entered secondary school, my father bought some land and decided to build a house.
Was it called a ground-breaking ceremony? Anyway, the land was purified.
A week later, my grandmother in Nagasaki rang saying, ‘The land isn't auspicious, so Master S is coming to purify it.’
Naturally, my mother thought, ‘But it's already been done, why now?’ and apparently said so.
Then Grandmother replied, ‘But Master S said there's still something lingering.’
In other words, as far as I knew, Master S was the only person we could possibly rely on.
As dusk fell, I arrived at the bus stop near my family home in Saitama just before nine o'clock.
Unlike Tokyo, this town was dominated by factories, so even at nine o'clock, there were few people about.
I walked briskly the twenty minutes or so from the bus stop to my parents' house. Streetlights lined the deserted, dark road at regular intervals.
Inside, flashbacks of the day before yesterday made me quite frightened, but fortunately, he didn't appear.
However, perhaps because it had cooled down with nightfall, I noticed something unusual about my own body.
The base of my neck felt hot.
It's hard to describe, but it felt like a cord was wrapped around my neck and being pulled from side to side.
I touched my neck and felt a chill. It was hot. Only my neck was hot. And it had started to sting.
It seemed like some sort of rash was forming.
I couldn't walk any further and ran flat out to my parents' house.
Panting, I opened the door to my parents' house just as my mother was hanging up the phone.
And the moment she saw my face, she said this.
"Ah, it's you. Your grandmother in Nagasaki called, worried sick.
She said Mr S told her something bad had happened to you and to come over. Did you do something?
Oh dear! What on earth happened to your neck?!"
Before answering, I glanced at the hall mirror. I hadn't considered he might come... why?
The base of my neck bore a perfect red line, as if a rope had been wrapped around it.
Closer inspection revealed a dense rash of tiny bumps rising up.
My body began to shake uncontrollably.
Without thinking, I raced up the stairs without a word to Mum,
and stood before the small Buddha statue in her room, chanting Namu Amida Butsu.
There was nothing else I could do.
Worried, Father came running, shouting, ‘What's wrong?!’
Mother, sensing something was amiss, was phoning Grandmother. I heard Mother's voice. It was crying.
There was nowhere to run. Only then did I understand... that something terrible had happened...
Three days passed after returning to my parents' home and understanding my situation.
Whether it was due to being mentally exhausted or something that bloke had caused, I couldn't tell,
but I suffered from a high fever for two days.
I sweated abnormally profusely from my neck, and by the afternoon of the second day, blood began to seep out.
By the morning of the third day, the bleeding from my neck had stopped. It had only been seeping anyway.
My fever had also dropped to just a slight temperature, and I felt somewhat calmer.
However, I felt an abnormal itchiness around my neck.
It was prickly, painful, and itchy. Whenever my pillow, duvet, or towel touched it, a sharp, small pain shot through me.
I thought the itchiness might be from scabs forming where the blood had come from, so I consciously tried not to touch it.
I burrowed under the duvet, trying not to think about it until evening, but when I went to the loo, I couldn't help but look in the mirror.
I didn't want to see the mirror at all, but I simply had to see what was happening to me with my own eyes to feel satisfied.
The mirror reflected a situation I'd never seen before.
The redness around my neck had completely faded. Instead, the rash had grown larger.
Even now, recalling it gives me goosebumps, it was that disgusting, but please allow me to describe it in detail. I hope you won't be offended.
Originally, the line around my neck was about 1cm thick.
It had turned bright red, and against my naturally quite pale skin, it looked exactly like a red cord was wrapped around it.
This was three days ago.
In the mirror before me, that area was filled with pus.
...No, that's not quite right.
To be precise, the rash forming the red line was filled with pus,
looking as though enormous pimples were clustered together.
Most of them were oozing pus. It was utterly revolting and made me feel sick; I vomited right there.
I washed my neck with clean water, borrowed some ointment from my mother, applied it, and returned to my futon, crying.
I couldn't think of anything. The only thing I felt was fury: 'Why me?'
Just as I'd cried myself out, my mobile rang. It was from ○○.
At times like this, even the tiniest glimmer of hope becomes an incredible source of energy, doesn't it? Honestly, I've never been so happy to receive a call.
‘Hello?’
“Oh! Are you alright~!?”
‘Nah... like I'm alright...’
“Ah— so it's bad?”
‘It's not just bad. Haa... Seriously, don't you have anything?’
'Well, I asked some mates back home, but... none of them really knew anything... Sorry.'
‘Ah, and?’
Honestly, I reckon he did what he could for me, but I was in no state to appreciate it back then.
It must have sounded pretty selfish coming out of me.
『Well, on the flip side, a mate of a mate knows someone who's really good at that sort of thing.
I could introduce you, but it costs money...』
「!? They charge money?」
『Yeah, apparently... What do you reckon?』
「How much?」
『From what I heard, it's about half a million yen to start with...』
‘Fifty thousand yen~!?’
From my perspective back then, even though I was working, fifty thousand yen was an impossible amount to pay.
I was reluctant to part with the money, but if it meant freedom from fear and suffering... I had no choice.
‘...Alright. When can you introduce me?’
'That person's apparently in Gunma right now. I'll ask my acquaintance, so hang on a bit.'
To jump ahead a bit, while I was repeating “Namu Amida Butsu” before the Buddha statue, my mother was phoning my grandmother.
Word quickly reached Grandmother, who consulted with Dr S (though “consultation” seems less accurate than “pleading for help”).
Ultimately, it was arranged for Dr S to come to us.
However, Dr S is very busy and, above all, elderly. It was decided he could only come three weeks later.
This meant we had to endure three weeks of anxiety and dread, living in a state where anything could happen.
Given the situation, I couldn't feel at ease unless I did whatever little I could.
○○ called back after 11 pm.
‘Sorry to keep you waiting. I spoke to an acquaintance who said they could get in touch and come tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow?’
‘Well, tomorrow’s Sunday, isn’t it?’
Right. So it’s been five days since I last saw him. Strangely, I’d completely forgotten about work.
‘Right. Thanks. Will he come to my place?’
“He said he'd come to your place. He's apparently driving, so email him your address.”
‘What about you? I'd like you to come too.’
“I'll be there, I'll be there.”
‘Is it alright if I pay later?’
'Probably fine, yeah?'
‘Right. Give me a call when you're nearby.’
It was a terribly disorganised affair, but what could you expect from a young whippersnapper like me?
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That night, I had a dream. Beside me as I slept, a young woman in a white kimono sat in seiza position. When I became aware of her, she placed three fingers to her forehead, bowed deeply, and then left the room. Before exiting the room, she bowed deeply once more. I couldn't tell if this dream was connected to him.
The next day, I received a call from ○○ after midday. I guided them over the phone and went out to meet them.
It was ○○ and his friend, plus a man who looked to be in his late thirties.
He didn't strike me as an ordinary sort. He had a thuggish air about him, and I couldn't imagine what sort of work he did.
My parents were suspicious because I hadn't explained things properly.
He introduced himself as Hayashi, though I'm almost certain it was a false name.
Hayashi: ‘Well, I've heard about T from him. It's become rather troublesome, you see.’
(Sorry for the late clarification. T is me; please read “he” as ○○ in the conversation.)
Father: ‘So, what brings you here, Mr Hayashi?’
Hayashi: "Well, this is beyond what an amateur can handle.
Father, listen. You might find this hard to believe, but if things continue like this, T-kun is in danger.
So, he came all this way because his friend T-kun is in danger and he wants help."
Mother: ‘Is T in danger?’
Hayashi: "Well, I've had quite a bit of experience with this sort of thing, but this is the worst I've ever seen.
This room is absolutely saturated with bad energy."
Father: ‘...Excuse me, but may I ask what your profession is, Mr Hayashi?’
Hayashi: "Ah, you're curious? Well, I suppose it is a bit suspicious turning up out of the blue with this sort of talk.
But listen, if we don't properly exorcise the spirits and purify the area, T-kun really will be taken away, you know?"
Mother: ‘Um, could we ask you to handle it, Mr Hayashi?’
Hayashi: "Leave it to me, absolutely. This sort of thing really needs someone specialised like me.
But you see, Mum. There's some risk for us too, so we'd need a little something wrapped up for us.
You understand, don't you?"
Father: ‘How much would be enough?’
Hayashi: ‘Well now~, I'd need at least two hundred thousand yen...’
Father: ‘Bloody hell, that's steep!’
Hayashi: "Even so, he specifically asked me to come and help his friend, taking time out of my schedule.
If you say no, well, it's no concern of mine, you see.
But if two million yen is all it takes to save T-kun, I reckon it's a bargain."
Hayashi: "Besides, T-kun went to the temple and they wouldn't even see him, right?
Only a handful of people understand this sort of thing. Are you going to start searching all over again?"
I listened silently.
When I heard two million yen, I did glance at ○○, but ○○ looked rather embarrassed too.
In the end, neither Father nor Mother could offer any more insight into something they didn't understand, so they reluctantly agreed to let it be.
Hayashi promptly announced he would perform an exorcism that very night.
He said he needed to make preparations and left the house once.
Returning in the evening, he set up candles, plastered talisman-like papers all over the room, placed a crystal ball at his feet, held prayer beads,
He poured what I think was sake into a cup. It was starting to look rather proper.
Hayashi: "Mr T. I'm going to perform the purification now. This should sort it out.
Father, Mother. I'm sorry, but could you please step outside for a moment?
It's not impossible the spirit might go to you instead."
Reluctantly, my parents agreed to wait in the car outside.
As dusk fell and darkness descended, the purification rite commenced.
Hayashi chanted something akin to sutras, dipping his finger into the cup at regular intervals and flicking droplets towards me.
Half-convinced, I lay on the futon with my eyes closed. Hayashi had instructed me to do so.
It had been quite some time since the purification rite began.
The chanting of sutras began to falter.
With my eyes closed, all I could perceive was the unpleasant atmosphere and the sutras growing increasingly strange.
At first I hadn't noticed, but my neck was unusually painful. It had gone beyond itchiness; I was clearly feeling pain.
I clenched my teeth, trying not to open my eyes and endure the pain, when the chanting stopped.
But something was odd.
I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but it felt like an awkward ending, and for it to be over, no one said anything.
Above all, the pain in my neck showed no sign of abating; if anything, it was intensifying.
I felt chills, and something seemed to be straddling the futon.
I mustn't open my eyes. That was absolutely forbidden.
I knew it... but I opened them anyway.
Opening my eyes, a terrifying sight met me.
Hayashi sat to my right, performing a purification ritual over me as I lay in bed.
Facing Hayashi, that bloke sat in seiza position, flanking me.
Hands resting on his knees, he stretched his upper body forward, peering intently at Hayashi's face.
Between Hayashi's face and that bloke's face was barely a fist's width of space.
With a puzzled look, tilting his head, moving his face in small, owl-like jerks,
muttering indistinctly, he peered intently at Hayashi's face.
Thinking back now, he might have been whispering something to Hayashi.
Hayashi sat with his head slightly bowed, his gaze fixed downward, not blinking, his mouth slackly open, drool hanging from it.
His face seemed to be smiling slightly. Occasionally, he gave a small nod.
I stared, forgetting even to blink.
Suddenly, his neck stopped moving. The next moment, he turned his face towards me.
I frantically squeezed my eyes shut, pulled the futon over my head, and chanted “Namu Amida Butsu” over and over.
The image of him moving his face like an owl, right close to mine, flashed behind my eyelids. It was terrifying.
I heard a rattling sound, then the sound of someone running down the stairs. It seemed Hayashi had fled.
I was so scared, so scared, I stayed buried under the futon.
When my parents arrived, switched on the light and pulled back the futon, they found me curled up, my body rigid.
Hayashi got into the car without so much as a glance at my parents, and vanished somewhere with ○○ and ○○'s friend who were waiting.
From what ○○ told me later, he apparently said nothing except ‘Get the car out’.
Far from resolving anything, my situation had only grown worse,
and I had no time left to wait for Mr S three weeks hence.
Four more days had passed since I last saw him.
It might be obvious, but my neck had improved considerably. Though the scar remained, my physical strength had clearly recovered.
The fever had broken, and my body was fine now.
But that was only physical. I was terrified, whether it was morning or night.
The thought of when and where he might appear filled me with dread.
Sleepless nights followed one after another. I could scarcely keep anything down and was constantly alert to any signs of movement around me.
In less than ten days, I reckon my face had changed considerably.
Mentally cornered, I had no time to spare.
Naturally, there was no question of maintaining any semblance of a normal working life. I had my parents contact my company and resigned.
(Though I only heard this later... apparently they gave him a proper dressing-down when he made the call.)
Everything terrified me. Even the slightest rustle of laundry or the swaying of the persimmon tree visible through my window
had me cowering alone, wondering if it might be him.
There were still over two weeks left before Professor S was due to arrive. To me, it felt like an eternity.
My parents, unable to bear watching any longer, forcibly shoved me, trembling with fear, into the car and drove off somewhere.
Father kept saying, ‘Don't worry,’ ‘It'll be alright.’
In the backseat, Mum held my shoulders and stroked my head. How many years had it been since she last stroked my head?
With no sense of time (at least for me then), we drove on into the night.
It's embarrassing to admit, even now past twenty, but perhaps comforted by Mum's closeness, I fell into a deep sleep for the first time in ages.
When I awoke, the sun was already high in the sky. I felt refreshed after sleeping so soundly for the first time in ages.
It seems I'd actually slept for a full day and a half. I doubt I'll ever sleep for that long again.
Looking outside, the car was moving through unfamiliar scenery.
Gradually, familiar scenery began to come into view. A train ran down the middle of the road.
The car had arrived in Nagasaki. Even I was genuinely surprised by this.
Out of concern for my persistent fear, they'd apparently avoided planes and bullet trains, opting for the car instead.
They must have stopped for breaks several times along the way,
yet I could never repay the debt I owe to my father, who drove on without proper sleep, and my mother, who stayed close to me the whole time to keep my fears at bay.
It would take a lifetime, and still I doubt I could repay it.
My grandparents live in Yanagawa, Nagasaki. Upon arriving in Yanagawa, we parked the car at the bottom of the slope, and my parents went to fetch my grandparents.
(My grandparents' house is reached by climbing stone steps off the slope.)
During that time, I was left alone in the car.
My parents had gone out together
to help my grandmother, who had poor mobility, and to carry the luggage we were taking to Mr S's house.
The fact that I'd said, ‘It's fine, go ahead,’ was proof I'd really underestimated the situation.
Perhaps the fact I'd slept soundly for the first time in ages, and that I was now in Nagasaki, quite a distance from Tokyo and Saitama, had made me let my guard down.
Sitting curled up in the backseat of the car (cross-legged, you know), staring blankly out the window, a sudden pain shot through my neck.
It was excruciating—perhaps an exaggeration, but incomparable to any pain I'd felt before.
When I touched my neck, it felt slippery. ...Blood was coming out. The blood on my fingertips dragged me back to reality, whether I liked it or not.
At that moment, before fear or thoughts of him being nearby could take hold,
a resigned feeling came first: ‘Not again...’
I felt so fed up I started to cry.
I'd be glad if you understood,
but when unpleasant things keep happening one after another, even if there's a short break between them, it just leaves you feeling utterly hopeless.
It's tough when you start to get your feelings sorted out, only for something awful to happen again.
This time, I'd let my guard down a bit, which made it even worse,
I was crying while muttering things like, ‘What the hell am I supposed to do?!’ or ‘Give me a break already!’
My parents came back in the car with my grandparents, but they immediately panicked.
After all, there I was – the problem child – bleeding from my neck, slumped over in the back seat, crying. There was bound to be trouble.
‘What happened?’ ‘Say something!’ ‘I can't take this anymore!’ ‘T-chan, pull yourself together!!’
‘What the hell happened!?’ ‘What are we going to do?’
At that moment, I couldn't help but yell, ‘Shut the hell up, all of you!!’
Like, how the hell am I supposed to explain anything at a time like this? You lot can't do a damn thing yourselves... just shut up! That's what I was thinking.
Things just go wrong on their own, I quit my job, I nearly get scammed...
And these people are running around for a useless bloke like me...
Thinking about it now, it's really embarrassing.
And, just once in my life, my old man suddenly slapped me across the left cheek.
Bloody hell, it hurt. Dad was incredibly strict and we'd had countless arguments,
but I'd probably never been hit once since I was born.
(His policy was never to hit his children, something I'd heard a million times before.)
Then, in a quiet but stern tone, he said just one thing: ‘Apologise to your grandfather and grandmother.’
Somehow, that calmed me. Or rather, I was so shocked that the despair I'd felt vanished completely.
Once I'd regained my composure and apologised to everyone, I suddenly felt a new resolve.
In the car as it started moving, my grandparents' words of encouragement overwhelmed me, and I cried again.
Turns out I was far more fragile than I ever thought I was.
Upon arriving at Mr S's house (which is also a temple), I felt a sudden lightness.
It wasn't so much that something had happened, but rather that I'd simply allowed myself to feel relieved.
Passing through the gate and down the narrow stone-paved path, a man of early middle age welcomed us.
Come to think of it, I always seemed to find visitors at Mr S's house.
No doubt many people visited regularly, much like my grandmother did.
Led further in, we entered through the back entrance and proceeded to a Buddhist altar room about ten tatami mats in size.
Just as I remembered, Professor S was seated in seiza position on a cushion laid before the Buddha statue, slowly turning to face us.
(Forgive my clumsy Nagasaki dialect, written from memory)
Grandmother: ‘T-chan, it's alright now. Professor S will see to it.’
Mr S: ‘It's been a long time. You've grown so splendidly. How time flies.’
Grandmother: ‘Mr S, is T-chan alright, do you think?’
Grandfather: ‘Alright? What do you mean? He's only just arrived. Even Mr S can't tell yet.’
Grandmother: ‘He told me to keep quiet. I was just so worried, I couldn't stand it.’
Why was that... Just because we'd come before Dr S, my grandparents – who'd been so flustered until then – had calmed down.
That sense of calm passed to my parents and me too. I took a deep breath and felt as if something bad had left my body.
My parents seemed to be nearing their physical and mental limits already,
‘You must be exhausted, won't you? Mr S will look after you now, so why not go next door and rest?’
Taking advantage of my grandfather's affectionate words, I went into the next room.
Mr S: ‘Right then, T-chan, come over here.’
Summoned by Mr S, I knelt facing him.
Mr S: "Now then, I-san and the others, please relax in the next room. I'll be having a talk with T-chan.
Leave the rest to me. Don't come back into this room until I say it's alright, understand?"
Grandfather: ‘Mr S, please take good care of T-chan!’
Grandmother: "T-chan, we're worried about you, you know. But Teacher S will sort things out properly.
You just need to listen to what he says, alright? Hmm?"
Seeing my grandparents repeatedly pleading with Teacher S and speaking to me like this, the tears welled up again. I'm crying non-stop, aren't I?
Professor S told me to come closer, and we sat knee to knee.
Taking my hand, she looked at me for a while with a gentle expression, saying nothing.
For some reason, I felt like a child again, watching my parents' faces, wondering if I'd done something wrong and was about to be scolded.
I was completely absorbed by the atmosphere emanating from the woman before me—daring to write it, an old lady smaller than me and clearly weaker in strength—
an atmosphere that was neither intimidating nor anything of the sort.
People like that really do exist.
Ms S: ‘...I wonder what to do.’
Me: ‘...’
Ms S: ‘T-chan, are you scared?’
Me: ‘...Yes.’
Miss S: ‘I suppose so. We can't just leave things like this, can we?’
Me: ‘Er...’
Miss S: ‘Ah, it's alright. It's my business.’
What's alright about it!? I was overflowing with the feeling that it wasn't alright at all, and finally couldn't hold back any longer and blurted it out.
I really am immature as a person, aren't I?
Me: "Er, what's gonna happen to me? I need this sorted out soon, properly.
What the hell is this? Why's that bloke stalking me? I'm bloody fed up with it.
Mr S, can't you do something about it?"
Mr S: ‘T-chan...’
Me: "Look, I haven't done anything wrong, have I!?
Sure, I went to □□ (that haunted spot), but I wasn't the only one.
Why's it just me who's gotta go through this?
Does it have anything to do with being told not to △ in front of mirrors? I really don't get it!! Argh! It's so bloody annoying!!"
"Doh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
‘Doh~ Doh-ru-ru’
‘Chir-shitte’
...I couldn't make head nor tail of it. (Honestly, I'm completely baffled, so I'll just write it as it is for now.)
‘Doh~. Shitte-doh~ Shitte’
A high-pitched, monotone voice, like a parrot or a myna bird, reached my left ear.
It took me a moment to realise it was repeating ‘Why?’
I was looking into Mr S's eyes, and Mr S was looking into mine.
But Mr S's usually gentle face seemed expressionless...
I knew something was in my left field of vision. I kept catching glimpses of it.
I shouldn't have done it, but I turned my head left. Feeling warm blood trickling down my neck.
It was standing there. Bent double, peering up at my face.
I know I'm repeating myself... but I couldn't make sense of it. I couldn't accept what was happening.
This was a temple. Mr S was right in front of me... Why? Why? Why...?
He looked exactly as I'd seen him a week ago. His face was right before mine.
Moving his head in small, owl-like jerks, he peered at me curiously.
‘Why? Why? Why? Why?’
He kept asking the question in a parrot-like voice.
Surely... Hayashi must have heard this voice too. I don't know if he was whispered the same words as me...
I forgot to breathe, my eyes and mouth wide open.
No, it's more accurate to say I couldn't breathe properly.
I think I occasionally failed to inhale, making a sort of ‘Kohyuh’ sound.
While all this was happening, that bloke started moving his hands,
slowly peeling back the paper-like thing stuck to his face.
I knew I shouldn't look!! I knew it was absolutely forbidden and I wanted to run, but I couldn't move!!
He'd got so close I could almost see his jawline.
Inside, I was screaming, ‘STOP! Don't peel any further!!’
But all that came out of my mouth was a pathetic gasp like, ‘Ah... ah... ah...’
It was bad!! Really bad! Really bad! And then, ‘Bang!!’
No exaggeration or hyperbole – I literally jumped up. I thought my heart would burst.
Bang!!
The sound made me jump up.
Having been sitting seiza-style, I nearly toppled over as I spun round and immediately started running.
It wasn't like I was thinking about it; my body just moved on its own.
But because I wasn't used to sitting seiza, my legs were numb and I couldn't run properly.
My legs tangled from the numbness, and because I wasn't looking where I was going,
I smashed my head straight into the wall. It didn't hurt at all.
Blood was streaming down my forehead... but I was so panicked I couldn't see anything around me.
Blood got in my eyes and I couldn't see a thing.
I flailed my arms about, searching for the exit. But I seemed to be looking in completely the wrong direction.
‘Not yet!’
Suddenly, Mr S shouted loudly.
I couldn't tell if he was addressing my parents and grandparents behind the shoji screen, or me.
I didn't know, but that voice was enough to freeze my movements.
I flinched and froze on the spot. Once again, my mind was spinning furiously, trying to grasp the situation.
Well, grasping it was impossible, really. I just obeyed what Mr S said.
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My movements halted, and as if to confirm that my parents and grandparents, who were about to enter the Buddhist altar room, had also stopped moving,
after a brief pause, Teacher S began to speak.
Mr S: "I'm terribly sorry, T-chan. That must have frightened you. It's all right now, come back over here.
I-san, it's alright, please wait just a little longer."
I could hear something being said repeatedly from behind the shoji screen (or perhaps it was a fusuma sliding door), but I don't remember what.
Wiping the blood, I returned to Mr S's side, and he lent me a hand towel. I don't know if it was incense or what, but it smelled nice.
Only now, having arrived here, did I realise that sound was Dr S clapping her hands. (I hadn't had the presence of mind to ask.)
‘T-chan, you saw it, didn't you? Did you hear it?’
‘I saw it... kept repeating “Why?”’
By this time, Dr S's face had already returned to its usual gentle expression.
This time, I too focused solely on answering slowly and as calmly as possible.
Well... I'd given up trying to figure it out, though.
‘Right. You were asking “Why?” weren't you? What did you think it was?’
I had absolutely no idea. I hadn't even thought to try and work it out.
‘?? ...No... umm? ...I don't know.’
‘Was that scary for you, T-chan?’
‘Scary... yes.’
‘What was scary?’
‘Well... it wasn't normal. It was a ghost...’
By this point, my brain had surpassed its capacity for thought. I had absolutely no idea what Miss S was getting at.
‘But nothing actually happened to you, did it?’
‘Well... blood came out of my neck, and it tried to peel off something like a talisman. It was clearly not normal...’
‘True. But apart from that, nothing else happened, right?’
‘...’
‘It's tricky, isn't it?’
‘Um, I don't really understand... I'm sorry.’
‘It's alright.’
Mr S explained it to me in a way I could understand. Or perhaps “advised” would be more accurate.
First off, that thing is undoubtedly what you'd call a ghost or spirit.
As for whether it's what you'd call a so-called evil spirit, Mr S seemed unsure whether he could definitively say that.
It clearly falls into the troublesome category, but Mr S said he didn't sense any malice from it.
As for what happened to me, he answered thus:
"Even without ill intent, being too strong can lead to this.
That person was terribly lonely, you see.
“I want to talk, I want to touch, I want to be seen, notice me, notice me!” – that's what they kept thinking.
T-chan, you might not realise it, but you radiate warmth.
People tend to think well of you, and that must have made them think, 'Oh, how lovely. They seem so kind.'
So, I think she was just overjoyed that someone finally noticed her.
But you see, T-chan is so much weaker than that person.
So, just being near you makes her scared, and her body reacts."
Ms S spoke slowly, as if to a child, avoiding difficult words.
I've no idea what to do anymore.
I'd convinced myself he was definitely some kind of evil spirit or a nasty piece of work.
I thought getting Mr S to perform an exorcism would be the end of it...
But then Mr S started talking as if he were defending him...
"Right then, we'll have to sort this out somehow.
T-chan, it'll take time, but I'll sort things out for you."
That one sentence truly saved me. Ah, it's alright now. I thought it was finally over. I felt relieved at last.
I shall write down what Master S taught me. These are words I never wish to forget.
"Even if they look frightening, even if they are things you do not know, think of them as suffering just as you do.
Think of them as waiting for a helping hand to be extended."
Mr S began chanting sutras. Not for purification, but so that the creature might find peace.
That night, my forehead was split open, and if I looked closely, the mark on my neck was badly torn and painful, but I slept soundly.
(Even after the sutras ended, seeing me still flustered, he laughed and let me stay the night.)
The next day, though I thought I'd risen early, Mr S had already finished his morning prayers. ‘Good morning, T-chan. Now, wash your face and have your breakfast. Once you've finished, we'll be heading for the temple.’
I'm not involved in any way, so I hesitate to write much, but just a little.
As I mentioned before, the sect to which S-sensei belongs has such a long history it's even in the textbooks,
and both believers and practitioners are found all over Japan.
The teachings are the same, but due to geographical reasons, there are separate head temples in the east and west.
The one I was taken to was the western head temple.
After staying at the head temple for a while,
to enhance the virtue I inherently possess (though I still can't explain what that is exactly),
and so that I could offer prayers at the head temple to help that chap attain enlightenment a little sooner, as S-sensei explained.
The one who was most delighted to hear this was my grandmother. My father still seemed sceptical.
In the end, I said, ‘It's alright now. I'll go,’ so he didn't object.
Upon arriving at the head temple, a young person sent to greet us was waiting and bowed respectfully to Mr S.
We paid our respects to the head temple's representatives in a small building (though calling it a hut felt inadequate given its size and grandeur) tucked away beside the main hall.
Here too, Mr S adopted a remarkably deferential posture.
I later heard that Master S was actually quite an extraordinary person; it wouldn't have been surprising if he'd attained considerable status had he wished.
(‘It's lonely, but hierarchies do form, don't they?’ Master S remarked.)
I stayed at the head temple for a while, treated as a guest, yet living much like everyone else.
It was probably thanks to Master S's kind words.
During that time, I truly felt how fortunate I really was.
Women tormented by vengeful snake spirits for forty years,
or those whose entire families and kin had fallen victim to curses, leaving them utterly alone,
yet tracing their lineage revealed they were descendants of distinguished samurai families...
I never knew so many people endured far greater suffering than I did...
Whether it was the harsh living conditions, the nature of the place itself, or perhaps because of what Mr S had said,
the fear had largely subsided. (That said, I did get quite a fright when I suddenly felt like he was right beside me for a moment.)
About a month after leaving it at the temple, Master S came to visit.
‘Well, well, it seems to have improved considerably.’
‘Yes, thanks to you, Dr S.’
‘Have you seen it since then?’
‘No... not once. Perhaps it's passed on or gone somewhere? This is the head temple, after all.’
‘I don't think so.’
Her face twitched.
"Oh dear, I'm sorry. I've frightened you again, haven't I?
But you see, T-chan, there are many suffering souls here.
Our job is to help as many of them as we possibly can."
I suspect, though, that the words of Teacher S included that fellow too.
‘T-chan, you should stay here a little longer and study. It's such a rare opportunity.’
I followed Professor S's advice. That incident was still weighing heavily on me, and I found myself wanting to stay here a little longer.
Besides, though the days flew by... well, I suppose I liked the feeling that time was passing slowly.
(Though that sounds contradictory, I know.)
And so it went on, until I ended up staying for three whole months.
During that time, Professor S never showed his face around here. (He'd only been here once, two months prior.)
I suppose I felt uneasy without hearing Professor S's words.
But sadly,
After being cut off from the noisy world I'd been in for three whole months, the feeling of something missing grew stronger.
It had been a full two months since Mr S had last visited, and at last my time at Motoyama was drawing to a close.
Having packed my things, I thanked each and every one of the people who had looked after me, and was about to leave with Mr S.
But when I looked, Mr S, who should have been beside me, was gone.
Huh? I thought, turning around, only to find him a little way behind.
Had I walked too fast? I wondered, turning back.
He said with a gentle expression, ‘T-chan, why not stay here? Don't go back.’
Truthfully, I felt a little pleased, as if Mr S had acknowledged me.
"No, I couldn't do what these people here do.
I really think you're all amazing. I couldn't possibly imitate you."
I answered, feeling embarrassed,
‘It's not that. It's more like you shouldn't leave.’
‘Eh?’
‘Because you're still here, aren't you?’
My face twisted again.
In the end, I managed to leave Motoyama two months later. I'd ended up staying for a full five months. I doubt I'll ever again have someone who isn't family look after me for such a long stretch. Dr S told me, ‘I think you're probably fine now, but do come in once a month for a while.’ He said it was because he didn't know for certain whether that bloke had vanished or was just hiding.
My long stay in Motoyama finally came to an end, and I returned to my daily routine.
My mother had sorted the apartment handover, and my belongings had been moved back to my family home.
When she opened the apartment door, there was a smell like something had been smoked, and apparently small insects had gathered on the floor near the centre of the room.
It seems it was too frightening, so she came back without doing anything that day.
The next day, with no other choice, she plucked up the courage to open the room again. The smell remained, but the insects had vanished.
I feel terribly sorry for Mum, but I'm glad I didn't have to see it.
Returning to my parents' house, I checked my mobile for the first time in about half a year (come to think of it, I hadn't even noticed before).
There were an enormous number of missed calls and messages. The most frequent were from ○○.
From the emails, it seemed he felt a sense of guilt, blaming himself for how things had turned out.
He kept in touch diligently – apologising, suggesting solutions, telling me he'd found someone like this.
I also heard from my mother that ○○ had come to the house.
On the second night back, I rang ○○.
The line was noisy. ○○ was slurring his words; I couldn't make out what he was saying.
...He'd been out drinking.
I hung up for now and sent a text saying “I'll kill you”. After all, in this world, strangers are just strangers.
The next day, I received an email from ○○ saying, “I'd like to apologise. Could you spare some time?” The fact it wasn't a phone call probably meant it was awkward.
Come nightfall, ○○ came to my house.
He'd gone to the trouble of travelling all this way. He must have been feeling quite remorseful and reflective.
(Needless to say, the main reason was that I disliked him being out at night.)
The moment I opened the door and saw ○○, I punched him twice.
One punch to ease his own guilt, the other as penance for going to that bloody party and pissing me off.
Sometimes getting punched feels more satisfying than being forgiven with words. Well, the second punch was purely my personal anger, mind.
I explained the whole story in detail to ○○, and that evening we were both excited and frightened... Looking back now, it seems like just an ordinary day.
○○ told me what happened after that night.
When we fled that night, Hayashi was clearly acting strangely.
○○, who had been waiting in Hayashi's car with friends, apparently realised immediately that something was seriously wrong.
But Hayashi's panic when he jumped into the back seat was apparently beyond the ordinary, so they had no choice but to drive off.
‘If I'd resisted or hesitated, who knows what he might have done?’
○○'s words spoke volumes about the situation.
○○ apparently escaped when the car pulled away from my house and got caught at a traffic light near the motorway entrance.
"I mean, he started laughing halfway through, then shaking,
saying stuff like “I'm not like that” or “I wouldn't do that” – it was terrifying."
The image of him whispering something came back to me, and I struggled to erase the mental picture.
He hadn't come back to my place simply because he was too scared.
He apologised, saying, ‘Sorry for being such a coward,’ so I forgave him. I'd be forgiving too if I were ○○.
After that, no one knows what happened to Hayashi.
This time, even ○○ seemed properly pissed off, apparently grilling the friend who introduced Hayashi.
Turns out Hayashi was a hopeless bloke, not even cut out to be a proper con artist.
He'd been persuaded to introduce him on a whim (just to earn a bit of pocket money, apparently).
According to ○○, ‘I gave him a proper thrashing, so cut me some slack!’
But I was gutted that my own tip-off had led to this mess, so this time I mobilised every connection I had...
Of course, no one around me had ever heard of or been involved in anything like this,
so all I got were vague “probably” or “might be” levels of information.
So all I could say was, 'There must be several conditions that, if they happen to align by chance, cause this to occur.'
After that, I kept to Mr S's instructions and visited him once a month. The first year it was monthly, the next year once every three months. Perhaps out of apology to me, ○○ started coming round to the house more often, even when there was no particular reason, and he always contacted me before going to see Mr S and after returning.
About two years after seeing him, Miss S told me, ‘It seems you needn't worry anymore. T-chan, just pop in occasionally from now on. But don't go doing anything strange, now.’
Is it truly over… I cannot say.
Three months later, Professor S passed away.
Beloved Professor S, I wished you could have taught me so much more.
Yet, for now, I wish to believe it is over.
Two months have passed since Professor S's funeral.
The loneliness and sense of loss at having lost someone dear began to fade, and I had returned to my daily routine.
Amidst the hustle and bustle of each day, I sometimes find myself suddenly recalling that time.
It feels so utterly detached from everyday life that I sometimes wonder if it really happened at all.
I wouldn't tell anyone such a story, nor is there any need to; I simply strive to live each day to the fullest.
It was amidst such utterly ordinary days that a letter arrived from my grandmother.
Upon opening the envelope, I found my grandmother's letter and another letter inside.
Alongside her words to me, my grandmother's letter contained this:
'This is the letter given to me by Mr S.
The forty-ninth day has now passed, so as promised to Mr S, I am passing it on to T-chan.'
Professor S's letter. Now, I cannot verify the truth of the words written there, and I hesitate to reproduce them verbatim, so I shall paraphrase.
ｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰ
It's been ages. S here. Quite some time since we last spoke, hasn't it?
Are you alright now? I do hope you haven't been feeling too anxious...
Oh dear, I suppose one does get rather roundabout with age.
Today, I wrote this letter because I wanted to apologise to you, T-chan.
But it's not that I did anything wrong. It couldn't be helped at the time. Still... I'm sorry.
That day when T-chan came to my place, I was actually terribly frightened, you know.
Because what T-chan brought along was simply beyond my capabilities.
But T-chan was scared, wasn't she? So I thought I mustn't be afraid myself.
To tell you the truth, sometimes no matter how much you reach out, you get no response at all. That time, I suppose I was just lucky.
T-chan, how was life at Motoyama? Did it take your mind off things at all?
Every time I saw you, I told you it wasn't time yet, didn't I? Do you remember?
I thought if you went back now, it would be terrible.
So, even though I knew it would be boring for a young girl like you, I couldn't let you leave.
I prayed every day, but it just wouldn't go anywhere.
But it should be alright now. It seems to have moved away. But listen, T-chan, if... if you ever feel that pain again, go straight to Motoyama. There, you'll probably find yourself stronger, so it won't be able to touch you so easily.
Finally, there's something I must tell you properly. If it becomes too painful, surrender yourself to the Buddha. When only suffering remains, make up your mind. I don't want T-chan to die, you understand. But if it's not over yet, then for T-chan, the painful time will never end.
T-chan, you must have met quite a few people at Motoyama, right?
Truly evil things, you see, take their time tormenting you. They never let it end.
They want to see you suffer, to grin and gloat.
It's frustrating, but sometimes even with all our efforts, there's nothing we can do to help when we see someone suffering right before our eyes.
We want to help those people too... but there's often nothing we can do...
The teacher tried everything to save T-chan at least, but honestly, I can't be confident.
I don't sense any presence, and I think they're gone, but we mustn't relax yet.
They might be waiting for us to let our guard down.
Right? T-chan. You must never let your guard down completely.
Always stay alert, avoid suspicious places, and don't do anything unnecessary.
Trust me. Right?
I'm sorry for telling nothing but lies. I know it's too much to ask you to believe me. Still, please believe that I prayed to the Buddha right until the end. I always pray that T-chan may live each day in good health.
S
ｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰｰ
As I read, I can feel my hand trembling as I hold the letter.
I'm breaking out in a sickly sweat. My pulse just keeps racing.
What on earth should I do? Is it... still not over?
Suddenly, I get the feeling he's watching me from somewhere.
Can I really escape this now?
What if he was just hiding, and could appear before me anytime he wanted?
Once doubt takes hold, there's no stopping it. Everything starts to seem suspect.
Could it be that Mr S suffered at the hands of that thing?
Is that why he left me this letter?
In the end... has nothing changed at all?
Could it be that Hayashi has been haunted by that thing?
What on earth did that bloke whisper to him?
Something more direct than what he said to me... Did it drive him mad?
Mr S lied to me to spare my worries, but
was it something that “had to be lied about”...?
In the end, knowing that, wasn't Mr S worried right up until the very end?
The more I doubt, the more confused I get. I have absolutely no idea what to do.
This is all I know...
Everything about a story that spanned two and a half years, and even now, I'm not sure if it's truly over.
In the end, I never understood the reason, nor did it conveniently resolve itself, nor was there anyone nearby who knew anything.
Was it something brought about by knowledge acquired from who knows where?
Or was there some kind of causal relationship involved...?
I simply cannot comprehend it; it can only be called coincidence.
But it's far too painful to be mere coincidence.
Did I truly commit a sin deserving this much suffering? Surely not?
If not... then why? It's utterly unfair. That's how I honestly feel.
If there's one thing I can tell you, it's this:
"If you get possessed by something, targeted, or hounded, I'll say it again – it's no laughing matter.
Even if someone says it's over, you mustn't let your guard down until the very end."
And… I’m terribly sorry to bring this up at the very end, but there’s something I must apologise for. There are several small untruths woven into this story. I hope you’ll overlook them, as they were told partly to make things easier to understand, and partly because there were things I simply didn’t know. I realise this likely made many parts rather confusing. Please accept my apologies for that too.
But... that's not what I want to apologise for. I've been lying about something far more fundamental to the very basis of this story. I don't think you noticed, and I took care to ensure you wouldn't. Because I believed it wouldn't get across otherwise. You might sense contradictions. You might be disappointed... But I wanted someone to know this story.
I'm ○○.
…It's no use regretting it now.
参照元：https://toki.5ch.net/test/read.cgi/occult/1305088227/
