Hachishakusama - Ms. Eight Feet Tall

The ancestral hometown of my father's family lay barely a two-hour drive from our humble dwelling, nestled amidst the farmlands. During summer vacations, I frequently sought solace in the company of my grandparents, who never failed to comfort me with their warm affection. It has been over a decade since my last visit to their humble village. A visitation that occurred during my formative years in high school. With the onset of spring break and the caress of favorable weather, I started my journey on a bicycle toward my beautiful hometown.

Upon my arrival, a mild chill seized my bones, prompting me to recline momentarily within a sun-kissed enclave beside the road. Suddenly I was disturbed by an unfamiliar sound, a peculiar vocalization that resonated through the air like an ethereal hymn,

"Popo, Popoppo, Po, popo…"

Neither mechanical nor ordinary, it bore a supernatural semblance to the human voice. Scanning my surroundings, my gaze alighted upon a snowy white hat, perched atop the verdant hedge. As the hat traversed a gap in the foliage, a figure, adorned in a white dress, emerged. Such a view could only be described as towering, as the hedge itself stood a colossal two meters in height.

Before I could fully understand this enigma, the figure vanished into thin air, leaving no trace of its existence. The enigmatic sound also dissipated into the ether. At the time, I attributed the figure's tall stature to the possibility of towering footwear or an eccentric masquerade. Peculiar indeed, yet I perceived no further significance.

Later, while partaking in tea with my venerable grandparents, I recounted the tale of the mysterious encounter, casually labeling the enigmatic figure as a transvestite. However, when I casually mentioned the odd sound "po, po, po" chant, a wave of panic washed over my grandparents. My grandfather, overcome with urgency, bombarded me with a torrent of inquiries,

"When did you see it?

How much taller was it than the fence?

Did it fix its gaze upon you?"

My answers came as swiftly as his inquiries, prompting him to hastily retreat to the hallway, where he sequestered himself behind a sliding door, ensuring I remained oblivious to the conversation taking place. Silence enveloped the room, Grandfather returned presently, revealing that I would be spending the night under their roof.

Baffled by the gravity of the situation, I inquired about the malevolence of the mysterious woman. Grandfather, with a glance toward my grandmother, entrusted her with the huge task of explanation.

In a tremulous voice, Grandma commenced her revelation,

"It appears that Hachishakusama has taken an interest in you.

But fear not, my child, Grandpa is making the necessary arrangements."

Gradually, she unveiled the truth, fragment by fragment, a truth that portrayed Hachishakusama not as a mere mortal but as a monstrous entity, got her nickname Ms. Eight Feet Tall due to her towering stature of 8 feet tall. Hachishakusama possessed a changeable appearance, capable of assuming the guise of both youth and age, yet she would always exhibit an otherworldly height, always accompanied by disturbing laughter "Po Po Po."

Once captured by Hachishakusama's attention, her victims would face a grim fate, succumbing to a grisly demise within a matter of days. The last recorded victim of Hachishakusama's wrath had met their tragic end fifteen years prior.

Subsequent revelations unveiled a local belief that Hachishakusama was confined within a shrine near our village, restrained by four statues of Jizo, a benevolent deity safeguarding children. These statues were strategically placed in the cardinal directions: north, south, east, and west to uphold the seal.

The village had entered into a peculiar agreement with a neighboring village, granting them certain advantages in exchange for their vigilant watch over the malevolent entity. For instance, the village enjoyed priority access to water resources. However, as the years stretched into a dozen, and with no sight of Hachishakusama one couldn't help but question the wisdom of the elderly men who upheld this fragile pact.

At the time, I found myself grappling with the incredulity of the tale. Nevertheless, my skepticism disappeared as Grandpa returned in the company of an elderly lady named K-san. She pressed a small paper charm into my trembling hands, urging me to keep it close.

Grandpa and K-san promptly withdrew to the upper floor, leaving me with an undeniable sense of fear. When nature called, and I sought to excuse myself to the bathroom, Grandma insisted on accompanying me, leaving the door open and maintaining an unwavering gaze as I relieved myself. It was at this moment that the gravity of the situation truly sank in.

Soon, I found myself led to an upstairs bedroom. The solitary window stood shrouded by newspapers, upon which a charm similar to the one I held was affixed. Each corner was put up with small piles of Morishio, sacred salt, while a wooden box bearing the visage of Buddha sat atop a nearby table.

I was instructed to remain within the confines of the room until the following morning seven o'clock, forbidding me from coming out under any circumstances (a bucket had been thoughtfully provided for my convenience). Grandpa made it very clear that neither he nor Grandma would engage me in conversation until the designated hour arrived. K-san advised me to keep the charm close and seek solace in prayers to Buddha.

The room had a comfortable bed and a television. Grandma had thoughtfully laid out a spread of snacks for my sustenance. Yet, my attention proved elusive, as my mind remained consumed by a potent mix of anticipation and unease. Thus, I lay on the bed, enfolded in the sheets, and eventually started to sleep.

When my eyes fluttered open, the luminance of the late-night program flickered upon the television screen, indicating a time approaching 1 a.m. It was then that a tapping sound roused me from my drowsiness, a persistent and insistent rhythm. In a feeble attempt to drown out the disconcerting noise, I indulged in a cup of tea and a snack, while increasing the volume of the television. However, the tapping persisted, growing louder and more imploring.

Suddenly, a voice reverberated through the hallway,

"Are you alright? If you're too scared, you can come out",

It called, purportedly my grandfather's voice. Instinctively, I moved toward the door, only to halt abruptly as a realization washed over me, Grandpa had adamantly declared that he would not speak to me until seven o'clock. The voice persisted, growing more persuasive,

"Come here, it's alright."

Although desperate for it to be my beloved grandfather's voice, an unsettling shiver coursed through my veins. That's when I noticed the salt in the corners of the room, its pristine whiteness slowly morphing into a sinister hue.

I sank to my knees before the wooden figurine of Buddha, clasping the darkened charm tightly in both hands, I began to pray fervently for divine intervention. "Popoppo, Po, Popo..." The tapping on the window resumed, now louder and more insistent than ever before. In a horrifying twist, a distinct hand slapped against the glass, despite my location on the second floor. In that harrowing moment, I had no choice but to continue my desperate prayers to Buddha.

The night stretched on, a seemingly endless ordeal of fear and uncertainty. My recollections of those hours remain hazy, blurred by the weight of my terror. All I remember is the unyielding commitment to my prayers, seeking solace and protection from the malevolent presence that loomed outside.

The television broadcast slowly transitioned into the morning news, and as I glanced over, the clock on the screen displayed 7:13 a.m., casting a glimmer of hope upon the room. The tapping ceased, the haunting voice dissipated, and the once-pristine salt in the corners had turned a foreboding shade of black. With fear, I cautiously opened the door.

Grandma and K-san stood there, their faces etched with concern. Grandma, tears streaming down her face, mustered a trembling smile and assured me that everything would be alright. Descending the stairs, I found my father patiently waiting for me. Grandpa returned from outside, joining us swiftly.

The scene outside was marked by an assembly of men, congregating near a van. Grandpa's car stood in front, while my father's vehicle followed closely behind. I was guided into the middle of the van, surrounded by eight relatives, three on each side and one in front and behind me. One man assumed the driver's seat, while K-san occupied the passenger side. I was instructed to keep my eyes closed and my face pointed downward.

"You are the only one who can see Hachishakusama... do not look at her!"

Our convoy embarked on its cautious journey, commencing with a slow and deliberate pace. We hadn't covered more than twenty kilometers when K-san warned us that the true test lay ahead. She began chanting ancient Buddhist phrases, infusing the air with an aura of spiritual protection. And then, the chilling laughter resurfaced, resonating through the vehicle's confines. "Poppopo, Po, pop, Popopo..."

Gripping the charm tightly against my chest, I fought the temptation to steal a quick glance out the window, an impulse I would soon regret. Against the backdrop of our accelerating speed, I caught sight of a white dress, seemingly motionless beside the van's window. The figure inclined its head, as if attempting to peer inside, and a gasp involuntarily escaped my lips. The man beside me immediately commanded me to shut my eyes, and I complied, clamping them shut with all my strength.

Though the other occupants of the van couldn't perceive Hachishakusama, they were all privy to the events that unfolded next, the relentless tapping. I couldn't ascertain the duration of this macabre symphony, but gradually, it diminished into silence.

K-san ceased her chanting, announcing that we had reached a place of temporary safety. The cars pulled over, and my father and Grandpa expressed profound gratitude to the men who had come to our aid—relatives united by blood.

Grandpa and K-san had devised a plan to confuse Hachishakusama, surrounding me with individuals sharing the same lineage. It was deemed safer to attempt our escape during the daylight hours rather than the shrouded cloak of night.

K-san requested to see the charm that had turned dark in my grasp, a charm I had momentarily forgotten. She reassured me that we were now safe, but handed me a new charm to hold onto until I reached home. The weight of the previous night's horrors still hung heavy in the air as my father and I embarked on the drive back.

During the journey, he opened up about a friend from his youth who had fallen victim to Hachishakusama's clutches. The realization of the danger I had narrowly escaped settled in, mingling with the grief and loss that now enveloped our family.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, as life gradually regained its rhythm. The haunting memories of Hachishakusama began to fade into the recesses of my mind. However, the passage of time couldn't erase the nagging sensation that the malevolent entity still lingered in the shadows, waiting for another opportunity to strike.

Two years had passed when the sad news of my grandfather's passing reached me. Regrettably, circumstances prevented me from attending his funeral, further deepening the veil of sorrow that cloaked my heart. In the wake of his departure, I struggled to reconcile the superstitions surrounding Hachishakusama with the rational explanations offered by the world.

But despite my attempts to dismiss it all as mere fables, there were moments when the chilling voice resurfaced, whispering its haunting call: "Popopo..." The tendrils of fear coiled around me once again, a stark reminder that some horrors defy rationality and persist beyond the boundaries of comprehension.

Grandma's voice broke the silence, jolting me back to the present. It was a phone call tinged with urgency and trepidation. She relayed the distressing news that one of the Jizo statues responsible for sealing Hachishakusama within the shrine had been found broken, its shattered fragments aligning with the road leading to my very home. A wave of unease washed over me as if the remnants of that ancient evil were inching closer, seeking retribution for its imprisonment.

As I reflect on the events that unfolded that fateful night and the subsequent revelations that emerged, I am left with more questions than answers. Does Hachishakusama still wander the realm, hungering for unsuspecting victims? Or has she retreated into the depths of myth and legend, waiting for the perfect moment to resurface? Only time will unveil the truth, or perhaps some secrets are meant to remain shrouded in darkness, forever haunting the depths of our imagination.

So, I carry on, bearing the weight of that encounter, forever wary of the echoes of "Popopo" that linger in the recesses of my mind, a constant reminder of the existence of something sinister and otherworldly, a presence that may never truly release its grip on my soul.