by Hiroko Yoda
What if the beleaguered Katsuyori decided to use the rapidly failing mine as a cover story to silence his father’s spy network? The “walking maidens” knew many of the Takeda clan’s secrets, and Katsuyori was undoubtedly getting paranoid as he lost his grip on his father’s legacy. The performance at the mine would have made a convenient ruse to lure the women, who were expert entertainers as well as spies, to the site. These highly trained female ninja were well capable of defending themselves. Suddenly, the overly elaborate plan to get rid of fifty-five “courtesans” in one fell swoop starts to make a lot more sense.
The Attack
Similar to Hachioji Castle and Tabaruzaka, Oiran Buchi is a popular place to test one’s courage at night. It’s isolated, with no residences or buildings nearby. It’s dark. It’s quiet. Cell phones don’t work.
Reports of strange phenomena at the site include:
• The sounds of women crying out in pain, presumably those of the courtesans after the fall.
• Singing voices — old songs of the sort that a courtesan might have known.
• Today, a metal sign describing the fate of the courtesans marks the spot. Rumor says that those who read it from start to finish will be cursed.
The cursed sign of the Courtesan’s Abyss. Dare you read it all the way through?
Surviving an Encounter:
Many “ghost hunters” dismiss reports of phenomena at this location as flights of fancy, pointing out that it only represents the bend in the gorge from which the victims’ bodies were eventually recovered. The truly haunted spot is the one from which the unfortunate women were actually dropped — a place called Shin no Oiran Buchi (“the True Oiran Buchi”). We suppose the general idea behind this theory is that the shock and trauma of being so suddenly dropped, rather than that of dying, is what “imprinted” on the area.
For better or worse, however, the location of the True Oiran Buchi isn’t readily accessible or publicized. Marked by a handful of makeshift wooden grave-markers, it sits atop a precipice that is as treacherous today as it was four hundred years ago. The very real danger of slipping and falling far outweighs any potential danger from the courtesans’ spirits. If by some way you do manage to make it there, we strongly suggest watching your feet instead of looking for ghosts.
Haunted Places: 27
SUNSHINE 60 BUILDING
Haunted Places: 27
SUNSHINE 60 BUILDING
Name in Japanese: サンシャイン60
a.k.a. Sunshine Rokujuu (as pronounced in Japanese)
Type of Structure: Skyscraper (Mixed-use high-rise)
Construction: Steel and reinforced concrete
Stories: Sixty
Location: Ikebukuro, Tokyo
Ground broken: 1973
Opened: 1978
Height: 786 feet (239.7 m)
Elevators: 41
Type of Spot: “Mystery spot ”
Type of Phenomena: Manifestations of various types; Fireballs; Strange happenings; A generally “bad vibe ”
Threat Level: Varies
Claim to Fame
For a brief time in the 1980s, this was Asia’s tallest skyscraper. It may have lost the height title, but it still reigns supreme in another, less publicized category. Sunshine 60 is considered by many to be the world’s most haunted high-rise. But as you’ll see, its reputation has less to do with ghosts than it does with the sheer number of bad things that have happened on this otherwise unassuming patch of Tokyo real estate over the years.
The Story
Urban legend has long treated Higashi Ikebukuro, the Tokyo neighborhood in which Sunshine 60 stands, as volatile ground. Call it fate, call it karma, call it what you will, but it’s a fact that nasty stuff just seems to keep happening here. Don’t believe us? Just take a quick look at a timeline of the area.
1721: Ikebukuro is at this time a sleepy suburb of mansions, temples, and farms. A mysterious individual (or individuals) begin ambushing passer-by in a series of incidents euphemistically described as tsuji-giri, or “sword testing.” They claim some sixty-four victims in total — at one point, killing seventeen in a single night. The perpetrator is never identified.
1895: The convicts of Ishikawajima Prison, established by legendary lawman Hasegawa Heizo (see Ninja Attack!, p. 144) are moved to a new facility in Ikebukuro. Now called Sugamo Keimusho (prison), it is based on then-modern European prison designs.
1920s: As Japan descends into totalitarianism, Sugamo Prison’s mandate shifts from rehabilitating criminals to housing political prisoners, those guilty of “thought crimes,” and others seen by the government as undesirable influences. Their stays are undoubtedly less than pleasant.
1930s-40s: During the war years, Sugamo Prison’s inmates are joined by assorted spies and prisoners of war, all of whom are brutally interrogated and many of whom are executed.
1945 (April): Bombing raids devastate the entire city, Ikebukuro included. The huge number of casualties overwhelms mortuaries; the
731 Ikebukuro residents killed in the raids must be cremated in a mass pyre in a local park.
1945 (August): Sugamo Prison is seized by American forces, cleared out, and used to house individuals accused of war crimes.
1948: Seven men convicted in the Tokyo War Crimes Tribunal are executed at Sugamo Prison. Rather than using the standard Japanese method, the American forces build their own Western-style scaffold to hang the men.
1958: The remainder of the war criminals not sentenced to execution are released after serving their sentences. Sugamo Prison is officially closed.
1966: The area is officially renamed “Higashi Ikebukuro” (East Ikebukuro).
1971: The abandoned remains of Sugamo Prison are dismantled.
1973: Ground is broken for the Sunshine 60 building. The skyscraper goes up atop the same ground once occupied by Sugamo Prison. Construction workers report a variety of strange happenings, including a strange moaning sound emitted during the ground-breaking, the unearthing of a large amount of mysterious rotting cloth, a higher than usual number of injuries, and unexplained equipment malfunctions.
1978: Sunshine 60 opens to great fanfare. It breaks the record both for tallest building in Asia and the fastest elevators in the world.
1980: A stone tablet is quietly installed on a corner of the property as a memorial to the individuals who died at Sugamo Prison. It actually sits atop the site of the scaffold where the prisoners were hung. It’s still there today.
1999: In an eerie echo of the unprovoked attacks 278 years earlier, a deranged man armed with a knife and a hammer kills two pedestrians and seriously wounds six others. He is caught and sentenced to death.
The stone memorial erected on the spot of the hangman’s gallows, in the shadow of the Sunshine 60 tower.
The Attack
By day, Sunshine 60 is a clean, bright, and bustling commercial, center. It’s filled with shops, restaurants, theaters, stages, and tourist attractions including an observation deck and an aquarium. There’s even a nod to the darker side of the building’s history. “Namja Town,” a popular date spot for Tokyo teens, is an indoor theme park with a haunted house and other carnival fare. Like many urban commercial complexes, however, it all but empties at night. And that’s when things get strange.
Witnesses have reported all sorts of odd phenomena in and around the building after hours. These include:
• Phantom footsteps echoing through the halls.
• Inexplicable music issuing from empty stages and orchestral areas.
• Mysterious reflections of human faces in the glass doors and windows of the entrance area, ostensibly of those once imprisoned there.
But the most famous incident took place on August 8, 1979, the 39th anniversary of the end of World War II, when a trio of high school students spotted mysterious fireballs hovering over the building that night. Like the “will o’ wisp” and “foxfire” of European folklore, lights of this sort have long been associated with gho
stly phenomena in Japan. When reports of the incident appeared in newspapers the next day, many other locals stepped forward to claim similar sightings.
Surviving an Encounter
For all the strange behavior, there haven’t been any reports of injuries caused by anyone other than human beings. But if you’re the sort who scares easily, let us lay it out for you. Avoid Higashi Ikebukuro at night!
A shrine erected to commemorate the lives lost in the 1721 stabbings. Today the area is home to many homeless people.
Trivia
Urban legend has it that the staircase to the gallows was left intact and incorporated into the structure of the building’s basement. The alleged staircase is supposedly deep within the building’s lower levels and not accessible by casual visitors.
And undoubtedly inspired by its otherworldly reputation, the manga collective CLAMP incorporated the Sunshine 60 building into two of their works, “X” and “Tokyo Babylon,” as the source of occult-magical powers.
Haunted Places: 28
OSOREZAN
Haunted Places: 28
OSOREZAN
Name in Japanese: 恐山
a.k.a. Mount Fear (literal translation)
Terrain: Volcanic
Location: Tohoku, Japan
Altitude: 2,880 feet (278 meters)
Nearest temple: Boda i-ji Temple
Type of Spot: “Reijo” (Hallowed ground - a gathering place for souls)
Type of Phenomena: Encounters with the dead
Threat Level: Low
True Story
Flowers left along the shorline of Lake Usoriko.
It’s hell up on Mount Fear. Literally. Feet scramble for purchase on volcanic scree. The rotten-egg stink of sulfur hangs thick in the air. Boiling steam rises from deep rents in the earth. Murky liquids stained otherworldly hues percolate drowsily in natural stone cauldrons. The only sign of life are the cairns of stones left by previous visitors, the only sound the drone of countless spinning pinwheels left as offerings. Low clouds descend like the lid of a coffin, shutting out the sun and turning the waters of Lake Usoriko a bilious yellow hue. No ripples break its surface. Its sulfur-infused waters are as barren as the landscape that surrounds it.
A couple surveys the wasteland. “Can you remind me,” asks Matt, “why you wanted to come here for our wedding anniversary? There’s nothing living here.”
“That’s okay,” answers Hiroko. “People don’t come to Mount Fear to meet the living.”
Claim to Fame
Over a thousand years ago, a monk by the name of Ennin was studying Buddhism in China when he dreamed a vision. “You will walk thirty days to find the mountain of the dead, carve a bodhisattva there, and promote the Way of Buddha.” He returned home immediately and set off on a pilgrimage. The place at which he found himself exactly one month later was called Osorezan — Mount Fear. His tiny religious retreat eventually grew into the temple now known as Bodai-ji. Mount Fear isn’t actually a mountain but rather sits within a broad volcanic caldera. Locals have long believed that the souls of their loved ones linger here for a time before going to the underworld proper.
As such it isn’t exactly “haunted” in the traditional sense of the term. More precisely it is known as a reijo, which is often translated as “sacred” or “hallowed ground,” but literally means a place where souls dwell. In fact, Mount Fear is classified as one of the “Three Great Reijo of Japan.” (The other two are Mount Hiei in Shiga Prefecture and Mount Koya in Wakayama Prefecture.)
It is a purgatory-like area, deliberately sought out by those looking to make contact with the recently deceased. The desolate landscape, steaming vents, and all-around eerie atmosphere are also considered a sort of “image training” for one’s own eventual visit to the underworld. (For an in-depth look at what awaits, see chapter 7). In fact, the stream that one must cross to enter the Bodai-ji temple area is called Sanzu-no-kawa — The River Styx. The living can cross back over and return home. The souls of the dead cannot.
The volcanic landscape of Mount Fear.
The Medium is the Message
Twice yearly, Bodai-ji temple holds weeklong festivals in which local itako — spirit mediums — gather to hold sessions for visitors.
Itako is the name for a shaman of the Tohoku region (the northernmost part of Japan’s main island of Honshu). They are almost always female, and many are blind as well. They are famed for their ability to locate and channel the souls of the dead in a technique that is known as kuchiyose. For a set fee — usually in the ¥4,500 (US $50) range — an itako will contact a deceased loved one and channel their voice through her body. The only trick: the spirits inevitably speak in the itako’s natural voice regardless of gender or nationality. That means a thick Tohoku accent, impenetrable even to many native Japanese speakers. Good luck trying to figure out where Grandma left that long-lost family egg salad recipe.
Itako employ a variety of methods for contacting the dead. The use of ritual chanting over a Buddhist rosary is most common. In times of old many hundreds of young women trained and worked as itako; today, theirs is largely a dying art (no pun intended), with numbers dwindling to just over a dozen.
Whether you believe in the supernatural abilities of the itako or not, there is no question that they perform a positive community service. In times of old, this was one of the few ways a sight impaired woman could earn a living. And their presence is often of great comfort to the bereaved. The coastal areas surrounding Mount Fear were home to many fishing villages, and over the years no small number of men who headed out to sea failed to return. The itako still perform an important role in easing the pain of grieving family members. In fact, their ability to help surviving families come to grips with suicide is currently the subject of a 1.1 million yen study by the Aomori University of Health and Welfare.
The Attack
People come here to meet the dead. Remember that ¥4,500 you just paid to the itako? There is no attack. If you make contact with a loved one, consider yourself lucky.
That said, we heard an interesting story from the driver of the bus that took us to the mountain several years ago. One day, he was seized by a whim to purchase one of the shiny foil pinwheels from Mount Fear, but rather than leaving it in the “underworld” as is custom, he brought it home as a present for his daughter. She happened to fall sick with a fever several hours later, and when his wife learned from where the pinwheel had come, she blew her stack. He was forced to drive back to the mountain, climb a fence, and plant the pinwheel — in the dead of night. When he returned, his daughter’s mysterious fever had broken.
A pinwhell spins amidst the mist and gloom atop Mount Fear.
Surviving an Encounter
“Survive?” Come on, quit worrying! The whole point of coming here is contact. Try to ignore the sulfur fumes, and focus on those who are in the process of moving from this realm to the next. Mount Fear is pretty much the last, best chance you’ll get to make contact with them.
It’s standard to make offerings, both out of respect and out of a desire to make the spirits’ time here more comfortable. These include:
• Coins (particularly five-yen coins, as their Japanese name (“go-en”) is a homonym for good fortune
• Pinwheels (commonly left behind as playthings for the souls of children)
• Canned drinks, snacks, and other refreshments
• Objects of personal significance to the recently deceased (we’ve seen everything from toys and items of clothing to jars filled with pachinko balls, so feel free to leave whatever you think they’d like to have with them.)
Welcome to Hells
In Japan, the word jigoku, literally “hell,” generally refers to the underworld as a whole rather than as a place of punishment per se. In addition to the “hell” atop Mount Fear, there are other hells as well. These places earned their names because of their sulfurous, volcanic landscape rather than any association with the supernatural. These include Unzen-Jigoku of
Unzen-Amakusa Park in Kyushu, and Jigokudani (“Hell Valley”) of Nagano, whose natural hotsprings are populated not with the souls of the dead but rather snow monkeys.
Haunted Places: 29
THE GUIDING JIZO
Haunted Places: 29
THE GUIDING JIZO
Name in Japanese: 導き地蔵
Location: Kesennuma- Oshima
Terrain: Island
Size: Roughly 3.5 square miles (9km2)
Access: Ferry from Kessenuma Port
Origin: Folktale
Date of Event: 1770s?
Cause of Haunting: Natural Disaster
Type of Spot: Holy Ground
Type of Phenomena: Doppelgänger (Death Omen )
Threat Level: Low (for observer); high (for those affected)
Claim to Fame
This spooky tale hails from the local folklore of Kesennuma, one of the areas hardest hit by the 2011 tsunami. The setting of the story isn’t explicitly clear, but appears to be set in or around the 1770s.
The island of Kesennuma Oshima is located twenty-five minutes from the mainland by ferry. After the 2011 tsunami, it was almost completely cut off from the mainland for weeks, save for periodic visits by American naval ships.