A Gathering of Spirits: Japan's Ghost Story Tradition: From Folklore and Kabuki to Anime and Manga (29 page)

 CHAPTER 30: IN A HAUNTED HOUSE

We’ve already seen examples of a haunted house; in the movie
Kwaidan
, the first story featured a man returning to his traditional house, which is rundown and full of foreboding shadows. It turns out to be as haunted as it looks.

The
Ghost
Hunt
account of Urado provides a western-style haunted house, although, with its endless revisions and additions and pointless remodeling, with windows looking at nothing and stairs climbing nowhere, it might make more sense to look back to a word used in Shirley Jackson’s classic novel
The
Haunting
of
Hill
House
. In that book, Hill House is described as “deranged.” The house itself was disordered, sick.

The creators of
Ghost
Hunt
drop one hint about their own sick house in the “Bloodstained Labyrinth” story, which takes up tankobon volumes 6 and 7 of the manga. It takes a while for blueprints of the house to turn up, but, when they’re examined, it turns out that the mansion has 106 rooms. However, there has to be at least one room not on the blueprints where the ghostly outrages take place, plus a way to access the hidden room. In short, the house actually has 108 rooms, and 108 is a magically loaded number in Japan. (see
Anime
Explosion
)

When Takashi Shimizu, writer and director of
Ju-On
, said that “In old Japanese houses, even during the day, it is dark deeper inside,” he didn’t just mean the architecture. He also meant the ever-present reminders of death within life, reminders which Shimizu considers uniquely Japanese. These can include the Buddhist altar and/or Shinto shrine in the home, ancestral poems on the walls next to teacups, portraits of departed ancestors. Certainly the annual Obon festival is itself a reminder of the departed members of the family.

Ironically, Shimizu’s definition of an “old” Japanese house is one built after World War II. In his film
Ju-On
(remade in the west as
The
Grudge
), the house itself is modern concrete and wood, and perfectly mundane, but has more than its share of weirdly lit corners and closets, where anything can be lurking at any time. (In the
Ghost
Hunt
manga, one character comments that it’s possible to create a scary moment just by leaving the door to a storage closet slightly ajar.)

Volume 3 of
Lagoon
Engine
by Yukiru Sugisaki is an account of a case in which the Ragun brothers have to deal with a haunted house. There are definitely surprises along the way, as well as scares.

 98. A child’s feelings

The volume begins with a statement that makes sense only at the end: that “a child’s feelings can only be fully understood by other children.” We’ve seen this already in stories involving the ghosts of children: the
Ghost
Talker’s
Daydreams
OAV, volume 2 of the
Ghost
Hunt
manga, and others. In this case the two tween-age Ragun brothers are put in charge of investigating a haunted house.

Mr. Kanuma approaches the boys’ father, Hideaki Ragun, who was reported to be one of the best at getting rid of the spirits haunting his house. Mister Ragun says that he trusts the judgment of his sons, who have been trained in the family business since infancy. Mister Kanuma explains that his family had built a new house and was trying to sell their western-style mansion. However, any realtor who tries to show the house gets injured, either by losing their footing or by having something fall on them. Only Mister Kanuma can enter and leave the house safely.

On their first day in the house, Yen and Jin notice that the walls are covered with pictures of birds, which Mr. Kanuma doesn’t particularly like. They also find that the house is filled with a variety of spirits, that they’ve put up a barrier to keep the boys from roaming through the house, and that one of the Ragun boys’ familiar spirits has been injured by the house spirits. They get the spirit healed after school (at a doctor whose practice doesn’t exactly exist in three dimensions) and they return to the Kanuma house. This time, they get sent on a wild chase throughout the house, although they seem never to leave one room. Amid all the pictures of birds, they find one picture of a boy.

This provides the answer, especially when they talk to the spirit of the boy in the painting. The boy was Susumu, son of the owners of the house. About the time he was seven years old, one day his mother was simply gone. He repeatedly asked his father about her, but he would only tell the boy that they can’t be together; the boy retreated into his picture books of his beloved birds. Mister Kanuma tried to move his son to a new home, but the boy slipped at the top of the stairs…

“I kept waiting here because I thought, if I wait here, dad and mom will come back.” In time, though, the memories of his parents faded and the spirits of the birds began to mean more to him. He gave the Ragun brothers a message for his father, who was still apologizing for the death of his son: “Tell my dad that it’s okay.” This story reminds us that “people try to avoid facing their pain. They hold it deep inside. For living things, as well as for things that have died, the greatest relief, apparently, is to forget.” Susumu was able to Become One with the Cosmos once he had delivered his message for his father. Mister Kanuma, however, needed a bit more persuasion, since he had forgotten to mention one other important piece of information: he was dead, too. In a twist that again recalls M. Night Shyamalan, the spirit of a dead man had approached the Raguns for help with the house. He and his wife had divorced when Susumu was seven; then father and son had died. Of course, the elder Ragun’s confidence in his son was justified; the boys tell Mister Kanuma’s ghost, “That was obvious right when we first met; you’d be surprised how many people we get like that.”

xxx

It may not be orthodox Japanese beliefs in ghosts, but the notion of forgetfulness, of not realizing one is even dead, has gained currency in recent kaidan. It seems that, the younger the ghost, the more likely it is to forget, as in several cases of
Ghost
Hunt
that involve the ghosts of children. We also saw this in the case of Sayo in
Negima
: the girl who seemed to forget that she was a ghost, or at least for whom it no longer seemed to matter.

 FINALE

In Japan, ghosts are (a) Evil, (b) Good, or (c) None of the above?

In this book we’ve met some ghosts who were scary, homicidal, driven by vengeance, and others who were cute, sweet, or harbingers of good luck. The deeper we look into Japanese ghost lore, the more kinds of ghosts we seem to find. This is as it should be: in the Japanese perspective, being freed from life also frees the spirit from earthly consequences.

Yuko the witch from CLAMP’s
xxxHolic
, put it this way: “Good and evil are concepts that humans decide. Those concepts don’t apply to non-humans.” In one of the
Ghost
Hunt
stories the same confusion applies: the spirits inhabiting one site are described as “a swirl of something extremely evil and something extremely good.” Although this described a seacoast site in Japan, the character said that she’d felt the same conflicted swirl at a Native American sacred site.

Yet the humans affected by the hauntings certainly can end up feeling that they’re on one side or the other of a line between good and bad, between curses and blessings. Watanuki finds a girlfriend (of sorts) in the zasshiki, even as Okiku’s ghostly search for the tenth plate drove her beloved master to madness.

But are mere mortals stuck with the ghosts and their desires to have an effect on this world from beyond?

The most common strategy we’ve seen is to pray for divine intercession, so that the spirit may find the peace it lacked. But there are other ways as well of keeping peace between this world and the next. One way was set down by Lafcadio Hearn in his classic collection
Kwaidan
; a short story originally titled “Diplomacy” shows how even a vengeance-seeking ghost can be undone, simply by an understanding of human nature:

 99. The Ghost Who Did Nothing

A man was sentenced to death by beheading. He was forced to kneel in the central courtyard of a mansion; the courtyard was criss-crossed with stepping-stones. The man’s hands were tied behind his back, and canvas bags full of pebbles kept him from moving. As the preparations were being made for the beheading, the condemned man shouted out: “My Lord, I am being killed for a crime which I did not choose to commit. I did what I did because of bad karma and stupidity. What I did was wrong, but killing a man like me over a mistake would be just as wrong. Killing me will provoke resentment on the part of my spirit.”

The owner of the mansion, a high-ranking samurai, knew that this was how ghosts worked, so he said, “I am sure that your spirit will threaten us all after your death. However, do you think that you can demonstrate the power of your spirit before your death, if you are feeling resentful now?”

“My Lord, I am sure that I can, but there is little I can do now.”

“Then let me propose something. Directly in front of where you’re kneeling is a stepping-stone. When you have been beheaded, try to grasp the stone with your teeth. That would certainly scare us and convince us of your power.”

“I will bite it!” the condemned man said angrily. “I will bite it! I will bite it!”

The sword flashed in the sunlight; two long jets of blood sprayed from the neck where the head used to be. The head rolled upon the ground. Suddenly it seemed to leap up and grasped the edge of the stepping-stone between its teeth. It hung there for a few seconds, then fell back to the ground.

The samurai seemed unconcerned by all this. As he held out his sword, an attendant poured pure water on the bloody blade, which he cleaned with several sheets of paper.

For days thereafter the servants of the household lived in a state of fear. They saw the disembodied head grasp the stone in its teeth, and felt that it was only a matter of time before the dead man’s vengeful spirit manifested itself. The samurai, however, continued to act as if nothing was wrong.

Finally, the servants, after jumping at every rustle of wind and every movement of a bamboo plant, asked their master to say a special service on behalf of the vengeful ghost.

“There is no need,” the master replied. “Nothing is going to happen.”

The leader of the servants wanted to ask how this was so, but didn’t want to contradict his master. The samurai, being a wise man, anticipated the question:

“The reason is simple enough. When I gave him something to do with the last of his spirit, it took his mind away from thoughts of vengeance. He died focused on grasping the stepping stone, which meant that he had to clear his mind of thoughts of revenge. Don’t worry about it.”

And the samurai was right. Nothing at all happened.

xxx

The book is almost finished. The game is almost done; in our
hyaku
monogatari
session there’s one candle left burning, one tale left to tell. How does it end?

In a cemetery, or a crematorium? With the ghost of a man, or a woman? Perhaps of a child who doesn’t quite understand what’s going on? The ghost of a criminal consumed by resentment? Or of a priest, wanting to do one more good act in the world?

This is your chance. You get to make up the final story. It could be something that actually happened to you; even if it didn’t, try your best to convince the audience that it really did happen.

If you really need at least one clue, here’s one sentence from the middle of a ghost story. It actually comes from an episode of Ken Akamatsu’s popular manga
Negima!
, about a British boy-wizard teaching at an all-girl junior high school in Tokyo (among other tasks). At one point the wizard and his students take the traditional field-trip to Kyoto; at the inn one night, some of the girls have gotten together to (yes) tell ghost stories. The manga looks in on the girls and catches one in mid-story, with an appropriately chilling line:

 100. The Ghost Story You Write

. . . The next night, that comic-book artist was working by himself when, from the radio that he knew he had turned off, came a voice… a woman’s voice… a voice that was not of this world…

[
1
] To give the anime its full title,
Heisei Tanuki Gassen Ponpoko
, meaning the Heisei-Era Tanuki War Ponpoko—the last word is actually more of a sound effect.

There’s also a comic twist on the nopperabou legend in Osamu Tezuka’s manga
Janguru Taitei (King of the Jungle)
, which gave rise to the TV series
Kimba the White Lion
. In the manga, Leo, the son of Kimba, is exploring a human city dressed as a little girl, complete with curly blonde wig. When he loses the wig to a gust of wind, he hurriedly chases it and puts it back on—backwards. A passer-by looks at the base of the wig covering Leo’s face, then runs off in terror yelling that he’s just seen a nopperabou.

[
2
] The Edo period lasted from 1603 to 1867; also called the Tokugawa period, since Japan’s shogun for this period of over two centuries came from the Tokugawa family.

[
3
] Igarashi Satsuki, “Ghost stories,”
NewType USA, Vol. 4
, 9 (September 2005), p. 70.

[
4
] Reid, T. R.
Confucius Lives Next Door: What living in the East teaches us about living in the West
. 1999. New York: Vintage/Random House, p. 90.

[
5
] We’ll meet up with other Hungry Ghosts later in this book.

[
6
] http://www.scu.edu/diversity/bonodori.html

[
7
] “Japanese fest offers bridge to ancestors.” Shia Kapos, Special to the Tribune
; Chicago Tribune
; Jul 14, 2006; pg. 10.

[
8
] Just as the ancient Greeks believed that the dead had to cross the River Styx, the old Japanese belief is that the dead have to cross the River Sanzu; hence the belief that spirits come and go to Obon by water. More later on the River Sanzu.

[
9
] http://www.cctv.com/english/TouchChina/School/Culture/20020725/100056.html

[
10
] Urameshii (with an extra “i” at the end) is a Japanese adjective; ghosts supposedly can often be heard moaning “Urameshii” (meaning, bitter or resentful, following the idea that ghosts stay alive, as it were, because of some slight or grudge.)

[
11
] Nabeshima is a name of a family renowned for their pottery; however, the Nabeshima clan was also afflicted in legend by a demonic cat. See the “Cats and Dogs” chapter for the story of the “Vampire Cat of Nabeshima.”

[
12
] Yoh confronts Faust in “Chokohama Cemetery” (a thinly-disguised Yokohama Cemetery; see later), one of the few western-style cemeteries in Japan, where bodies are interred in coffins rather than being cremated.

[
13
] Uji was a resort town just south of Kyoto, on the banks of the Uji River. Long famous for cultivating green tea, Uji is also the location for the final chapters of Lady Murasaki’s
Genji Monogatari (The Tale of Genji)
, which we’ll encounter in chapter 9

[
14
] http://users.skynet.be/mangaguide/au1795.html

[
15
] Pronounced “holic” (the x’s are silent), the title means “addicted to [fill in the blank]”.

[
16
] http://www.intelihealth.com/IH/ihtIH/WSIHW000/333/8014/346702.html, accessed July 27, 2007.

[
17
] See the chapter on school ghosts.

[
18
] http://www.physorg.com/news113818898.html, accessed November 10, 2007

[
19
] Tyler, Royall, Japanese Tales. New York: Pantheon, 1987, pp. 46-47.

[
20
] Doremi is a Japanese name as well as the syllables for the first three musical notes in a scale. Using musical terms to name the seasons of the TV series isn’t the only musical reference; one of the witches, a girl named Onpu, is also a young and popular singing idol; the word “onpu” also refers to the use of musical notes and symbols in text messages to signal a sing-song speech pattern or a happy state of mind.

[
21
] The subsequent revelations make sense in the context of the bath. This openness in a place where literally all barriers are down is a common occurrence in Japan, and not only in its popular culture. The Japanese describe this feeling with a made-up English-sounding word: “skinship.” See Kittredge Cherry’s
Womansword: What Japanese Words Say About Women
(1987: Kodansha), pp. 89-90.

[
22
] For the history of this project, see the chapter on “School Ghosts”.

[
23
] http://d-training.aots.or.jp/GTJ/html/s.html#shinjuu, accessed February 21, 2007

[
24
] “Japanese Ghosts” by the appropriately named Tim Screech, from
Mangajin #40
(http://www.mangajin.com/mangajin/samplemj/ghosts/ghosts.htm), accessed June 16, 2007.

[
25
] http://www.st.rim.or.jp/~cycle/KAPPAE.HTML, accessed November 4, 2006. One of the hallmarks of the Meiji era in Japan was the aggressive belief in western science, dismissing traditional Japanese spirit-worship and folk practices about ghosts and monsters as evidence of a feeble mind.