About a Place in the Kinki Region p.29: Interview transcript 3

Mhm, hello. It's a pleasure to meet you.

Let's see... Yes, I'll have the Earl Grey. Hot, please.
You're not personally connected with O-kun, are you?
A mutual acquaintance, then. Through this K-san, yes? Or was it through a different ex-colleague?
O-kun called me quite suddenly to let me know—that there's a writer who was researching ●●●●● and, since I'd covered the location years and years ago, that perhaps I could offer some insight. I got the sense it was somewhat urgent. Well, I've been stuck in a bit of a writer's block recently, so I figured it could possibly provide a flash of inspiration. And here we are.
So you're a writer, then. Our industry's not doing so hot at the moment, is it? It's not easy for any of us. Me, I've been having a rough time of it too. Each new publishing deal gets a smaller and smaller first print. Perhaps it's time for a senior citizen like myself to hang up her hat. Now, now, I'm joking with you. Don't you worry. Hah hah.
Ah, O-kun? We first worked together a long time back, when he was editing for a literary department. Must be about twenty years now, I'd say.
A few years on, he transferred elsewhere to do, uhm, what was it now, right, horror content. Yes. Went to edit for 〇〇〇〇. We were out of contact for a good while from then. I suppose my commission fee was too dear. Hah hah.
But we reunited when he started working at a literary department under my current publisher. Well, it's a small industry. At the end of the day, you have to cherish whatever connections you can hold on to.
Ah, speaking of. This interview is for 〇〇〇〇, isn't it? That's the magazine you're writing about ●●●●● for, no? Is it a weekly publication these days? Oh? I see, a special edition publication. Times are tough.
Now, what's the topic again? Right, ●●●●●.
Have you read any of my books, by the way? I'm happy to hear it, thank you.
Well, it's a long story, but have you noticed many of my works are horror-themed?
I'm truly fortunate to have been able to stay active for so many decades now.
So, this must've been about twenty years ago, too. O-kun was a rookie in the literary department. Barely able to stand on two legs, and yet he took over from the person I was working with at the time and became my editor.
While O-kun and I were figuring out what to do for my next work, a department that published children's books sent me a job offer.
They were looking to publish a compilation of scary stories for kids, centred around school. It was for kids of course, but they wanted the content to feel a little more grown-up, so they were looking for an author with experience doing horror.
At that point, O-kun and I were already settling on the idea of a novel themed around 'spreading rumours,' you see.
Well, it seemed to line up, so we decided to make my next work about 'ghost stories spreading through an elementary school.' It would mean I could do research for the novel and the children's book at the same time.
At the end of the day, that novel ended up something entirely different, so the research didn't really help much there. I would say it's an interesting piece nonetheless, so do give that one a read too, won't you?
Ah, excuse me. Let's put that aside. I'd never written a children's book before, and I wasn't at all familiar with what kids would be interested in reading, so the next step was to do some direct research.
The department kindly connected me with three elementary schools around Kanto and Kinki, and we organised interviews with some of the students. We probably should have taken a more senior editor with us but three's a crowd, no?
One of the schools we visited was in ●●●●●.
By the way, do you happen to believe in ghosts? Mhm. I see.
Me? Well, it might be surprising considering I write horror, but I don't.
My personal belief, from my years of experience writing in the genre, is that ghosts are manifestations of people's fears.
Essentially, it's not that ghost stories exist because somebody has seen a ghost. On the contrary, in fact.
If an anatomical model were truly dancing in the science lab at an elementary school every single night, that'd surely be on the news.
Let's use that as an example. In an elementary school, the science labs are specialised rooms, different from your average classroom—and they're often found in specialised buildings. There's naturally going to be much less foot traffic in a specialised wing of the school compared to where the main classrooms are. And because of that, a child who needs to go there on their own for some given reason might feel a sense of anxiety, or a sense of fear. When you don't know why you feel this way, it only exacerbates it. So to explain this fear, they come up with a fiction—a story of a dancing anatomical model. It creates a common understanding.
The fear came from a place in that example, but it could be anything, really.
There's a theory that the reason Jinmenken were such a hot topic a while back was because it explained children's fear of stray dogs.
Now it doesn't seem hard to understand being afraid of stray dogs. But kids who have a pet dog might not grasp the importance of being cautious around them. If you tell those kids that stray dogs are scary, they might not get it. Therefore the Jinmenken, that human-faced dog creature spread around the media, becomes a common understanding which explains a fear of stray dogs.
Jinmenken were talked about across the country and, similarly, other popular fears are generally present wherever you go. It's why every school has its own Hanako-san, why the ghosts of the deceased rise in any morgue. Like that.
But while the nature of the fear might be the same, they may end up changing names as they're passed down over the years.
Landline phones have all but disappeared, but Mary-san still haunts people's cell phones, sometimes even e-mail too. Not by the same name. It's not 'Mary-san' anymore, but the fear of 'not knowing who you're talking to' will never go away.
It's why we have so many ghost stories about the mountains, about rivers, about the sea. Whether it's centuries passed or right now in the modern day, the fear of nature—something far beyond our control—is always explained away through whatever personification is popular at the time.
However, there are exceptions.
When something terrible happens, but it's constrained to a small area, it can become something of a 'local' ghost story, unique to that location. The elementary school in ●●●●● is one such case.
Did O-kun have K-san send you the book I wrote?
Yes, that's the one. How nostalgic. You've already read through it then, I imagine.
Both 'The School's Nine Mysteries' and 'Scary Rumours Passed Around School' had two stories based on the interviews we did with the kids from ●●●●●.
We had no plans to publish the two in 'Scary Rumours Passed Around School' originally, but the first book sold well and called for more entries. Eventually I was running out school stories to write about, so we decided to expand the scope to include stories that happened outside school, still featuring elementary school kids. Since it came out several volumes later, it was a long time between the interview and publication for those stories.
That interview at the school in ●●●●● was a little unique. At least compared to the others.
It would seem the ghost stories being passed around there had been influenced by something that had happened a few years prior.
That section, 'The School's Nine Mysteries', was a compilation of ghost stories I'd heard repeated by many of the students we interviewed.
Seven of them were taken from a slew of standard fare stories you'd hear just about anywhere—entirely unremarkable, really. But each and every kid brought up the other two.
I asked why this was, and it turned out that those two stories had been passed around a lot recently. Right, you've got the idea. It used to be 'the seven mysteries' like you'd typically expect to find, but these two had been grafted on, making nine.
The two in question were 'The School Bell' and 'Akio-kun'.
Other than those nine mysteries, we'd also collected those two stories from near the school rather than on its grounds—'The Jumping Woman' and 'Akito-kun's Payphone'. Those, similarly, had recently gotten popular at the time. Actually, no, there were three. The third never made it to print, though.
As I said earlier, my next work was planned to be about 'ghost stories spreading through an elementary school,' so this was an exciting development. It fit perfectly.
We went over my theory that ghost stories are borne from fears that are hard to pin down. Even back then, I was digging into what fear could've led to these new stories.
What I discovered was that it led back to the suicides of a parent and child.
I happen to have a newspaper article concerning the incident on hand—I found it attached to my notes from the time. You've got my meticulous organisation standards to thank for that. Here you go.
The child was an eleven year-old boy named 〇〇 Akira-kun. Ah, indeed, you're right. Akira is written as 了.
His mother isn't part of the article, but reportedly she took her own life a year after his death.
When I inquired with the students, they often said their parents told them not to make light of the situation, so they simply didn't talk much about it. The teachers hadn't much to offer, either. Though I did find out that the bell truly does ring a few minutes late, like in the story.
We decided it'd be more productive to ask around the area, so we approached a few housewives out and about and made up some excuse to start a conversation. O-kun had a knack for getting them talking, thankfully.
Out of everyone we talked to, one of them had actually seen Akira-kun's body.
Their apartment was close to the school, and they were returning from a shopping trip at the time—the evening bell rang from the school as they pushed their bicycle, loaded up with groceries, up the slope towards their apartment. That's when they noticed a crowd had formed in the park within their apartment complex grounds.
A child was hanging from a tall tree in the park, they said.
From beneath the tree, a woman was wildly jumping up and down with her hands raised up towards the child, calling his name over and over, trying to get him down. That would seem to have been his mother.
School had just let out, so the crowd was formed by a bunch of children just standing there watching.
The woman we spoke to said she immediately ran over and told one of the kids to get an adult, then made the rest of the crowd leave. She said kids shouldn't see something so horrible.
The boy's mother wouldn't stop jumping and screaming until emergency services arrived and got him down from the tree. Apparently he had already passed by that point.
The police got involved, seeing as he'd somehow hung himself from a tree far too tall for a child his age to reach, and there wasn't anything nearby for him to have used as a stand. When the papers reported on it, however, they definitively labelled it a suicide.
There was only one other person who had anything new to say.
In this case, about the mother.
Apparently, she and her son lived in a house close to the school.
The boy's father passed not long after he was born, so the two of them lived in that house by themselves.
They described her as very friendly sort, but a little odd. People gossiped that she was part of some out-there religious group. Still, she hadn't been causing any trouble or anything.
After the boy's suicide, anyone who interacted with her could tell she was severely depressed. I mean, understandably so.
However, a few months later, her behaviour suddenly changed.
When people ran into her, she was full of energy and would talk your ear off if you let her.
The magazines and variety shows were discussing the suicide as suspicious and brought forth all kinds of explanations, from murder to bullying to domestic abuse, so her neighbours tried not to avoid her, as they pitied her more than anything.
She then started sticking strange talismans, or stickers, or something, all over the walls and windows of her home. A neighbour had come by to deliver some mail, and saw through the gap in the front door that the inside was chock-full of those talisman things.
When her house was completely covered in them, she started sticking them to telephone poles and noticeboards all over town. She even began handing them out directly to anyone she came across.
She'd tell them things like "it's such a wonderful discovery!" and "god bless you!"
She'd totally lost the plot.
And not long after that, they found she'd hung herself in her home.
Earlier I mentioned there were three stories from the surrounding area, but one never went to print.
It was about that house.
After her suicide, people in the area started calling it the 'Talisman House' and said that the ghost of a woman in a red coat would show up there.
In life, she'd often been seen wearing a similar coat, apparently.
I couldn't really write a story about an abandoned building that actually existed, right? And if I had, it'd have to reference a real-life tragedy far too closely. Obviously that's morally unacceptable.
So I nixed it.
On that point, I would wager a guess that 'The Jumping Woman' was inspired by her.
The description of the woman never ended up in the book, but the kids all mentioned she wore red—not to mention, the connection with jumping is obvious.
I had my concerns about publishing the stories inspired by Akira-kun, but I went over it with O-kun and we decided to include them—with the name changed to 'Akio-kun' and 'Akito-kun.' Of course, we didn't mention that he'd taken his own life.
Actually, there's a bit more to Akira-kun's so-called ghost story. It would've made the entry in 'The School's Nine Mysteries' too complicated, so it got left out.
As it goes, Akira-kun was offered up as a substitute for 'Mashiro-san.'
Indeed. The very same 'Mashiro-san' listed in the nine mysteries.
It seems to me to be based on 'The Cow's Head'. The story that nobody knows because anyone who learns it dies. Ghost stories tend to be quite derivative like that.
One of the kids we interviewed said their older brother, who had since left the school, told them that Akira-kun died for the sake of being a substitute.
This 'Mashiro-san' had found one of the students, and they chose Akira-kun as their substitute—and that's supposedly what caused his death.
I imagine that rumour started due to all the speculation that he'd taken his own life due to bullying.
It's unrelated to Akira-kun, but I found out that he wasn't the only student from that school that had supposedly committed suicide.
According to what I was told, there had been another.
When this one took place, the news at the time was focused on a major national incident. That, combined with the fact it wasn't seen as suspicious like Akira-kun's, led it to only be featured in the local papers as a minor story.
The child in question was a girl. She'd jumped to her death from an apartment block in the same complex that housed the park where Akira-kun had been found hanging. This was a few years after he'd died—I have to wonder if suicides have been a recurring issue there since.
Hm? No, not at all. I don't believe there were any ghost stories centred on that girl.
The suicide didn't have many witnesses, which might be why it wasn't that well-known.
Even so, they said that the reason she took her own life is because she befriended Akira-kun, only for him to eat her up.
It's a strange chain of events, that she was supposedly eaten, but then went on to commit suicide. Well, rumours about the paranormal tend not to be logical.
Not long after, that ghost story 'Akito's Payphone' started spreading around. So it was also suggested that perhaps she'd made a wish to Akira-kun on the phone.
Thinking about it rationally, if more ghost stories sprung up every time somebody died, the number of school mysteries would keep increasing to an absurd extent. So it'd be more sensible to simply link Akira-kun to an existing ghost story in the form of 'Mashiro-san', I would think. Instead, he ended up as his own independent thing.
The events as told by the students generally line up with the situation regarding Akira-kun and his mother, but they're prone to embellishing certain details.
After all, if the witnesses all went missing, from whom exactly did the story originate? Hah hah.
There you have it, though—that should be everything I have to offer about ●●●●●.
Anything I want to ask in return? Yes, well... I did tell you I took this interview on the off chance I'd get some inspiration, but there's honestly nothing I want to ask you.
Rather, I'd like to give you some advice—as your contemporary.
I've heard a little about it from O-kun, that there's a ghost story spreading around the country regarding ●●●●●—and it's claimed a few lives. It seems to me to be related to this very topic, of a mother and child.
If that's truly the case, it's a terrible, terrible thing to be talking about.
Ah, I apologise, I'm not trying to accuse you of anything.
No, nothing of the sort. It's ultimately a matter of cognisance.
I don't believe in ghosts, like I told you. But at the same time, I'd rather not stare into the abyss overlong, as it were.
Why, you ask? The reason should be obvious. I don't want to upend the status quo.
What if you were to tell me a story that forced me to accept the existence of the paranormal? How exactly am I supposed to handle ghost stories from then on?
Speaking purely hypothetically, if ghosts—or something similar—did exist, then they are inarguably a threat to humans at the very least. It's like the coronavirus.
Once you interact with them, make that first contact, they'll start lashing out wildly. And the way they lash out follows no logic, either. It's beyond the pale.
If that's all true, then writing about all of these ghost stories I've researched over the years is essentially like spreading that danger to my readers.
No, I don't even want to consider it. It's absurd. How could that even be possible?
And so, I'd like to give you some advice.
Think of it as nothing more than an old crone's rambling, if you will.
By refusing to believe in something, it's as if it doesn't exist at all in your world.
As for me, I don't believe in ghosts.
You, on the other hand, would appear to believe a ghost is involved in this situation.
Furthermore, you're trying to uncover its true nature.
What you're doing isn't much different than when I was trying to find the origins of those school ghost stories, but the distinction is in your actual objective.
There are some things better left untold. Please give up.
As the saying goes, 'in truth, a ghost is little more than withered silver grass.'
Learning that the ghost you thought you saw was simply some dry grass shaking in the wind is relieving. But, what if it turned out it wasn't just dry grass?
In researching 'The Jumping Woman' and the school ghost stories, all I found was dry grass—a paranormal rumour borne out of a very real tragedy, the suicide of a child and his mother. But you, what exactly are you hoping to find?
...Very well. I can tell you have no intention of giving up.
I see. In that case, I won't hold myself back.
There's one more thing you may be interested in hearing.
The family of an old acquaintance of mine died at the dam in ●●●●●.
It was around 6 or 7 years ago now. I wonder if it would be better to describe them as 'murdered.'
The father worked as a designer in the publishing industry. He was young, but his talent was undeniable—he'd designed the cover for one of my books, as it happens. He lived in Nagano but whenever he was in Tokyo, we'd always go out for a meal alongside my editor.
Supposedly he pushed his wife and daughter off the edge of the dam.
The police claimed they looked at the incident from all angles and ultimately concluded he'd killed the both of them as part of a murder-suicide, but couldn't bring himself to take his own life.
That can't be possible, though. He truly, sincerely, loved his wife and child.
As he told it, they'd had a hard time conceiving. He and his wife talked it through and they decided to adopt instead. He loved that girl like she were his own flesh and blood. He'd show me pictures of her—she was such a cute child.
Being single at this age and listening to him go on and on about her, it was like I had a granddaughter. He even promised to bring her with him next time he was in Tokyo...
It's nothing but a coincidence. That's what I'm choosing to believe. But you can come to your own conclusions.
...By the way, are you married? Single, is it. I suppose that's quite common in this industry, not that I'm one to talk.
Hm? Oh, I see. A divorcee. Well, that's nothing out of the ordinary these days.
Are you keeping up a good diet? I know it's not easy when you live alone, without anyone around to help. It just looks as though you're not doing so well, you know? Your complexion looks somewhat poorly. No, you shouldn't treat yourself like this. You can't be sustaining yourself on cheap store-bought junk food. Obsessing over ghost stories like this is just going to lead to depression. If you don't mind, I could introduce you to someone. I think you'd be a good match—they're a wonderful person.
Ah, pardon me. I shouldn't be sticking my nose in your personal business. When you get to my age, you start to lose certain inhibitions. I know I'm just being a bother.

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Translation Notes 25-34
The translation notes are organised by part. Please be careful of spoiling yourself by reading ahead.


This is an amateur translation of the web novel 近畿地方のある場所について as posted to kakuyomu.jp by the author 背筋. The web novel is freely accessible to the public, and this translation has no relation to any other adaptions. I claim no rights or ownership of the content presented.