The Room with the Rose Wallpaper

PART ONE

事故物件 'jiko bukken'

Accident Property ... A property where an unnatural death has occurred.

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Use headphones while reading for best experience.

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IN TOKYO, UNLIKE some other metropolises, there is a boom-and-bust cycle in the housing and overall construction industry. Skyscrapers alongside prototypical apartment buildings rise and fall in a rolling tide of urban renaissance. If you don’t visit a certain ward for a few months, it’s not uncommon to see an entirely new office building taking the place of the previous, less-fortunate business. It’s not all chrome and escalators, however. The urban sprawl is also spotted with droves of old-construction buildings and historical treasures, a reminder that hyper-modernized Tokyo has ancient and well-preserved roots. If you walk too swiftly down tree-lined Omotesando avenue, you might pass right by a centuries-old shrine nestled between a Starbucks and Gucci store.

Venture into an old-world district, like Yanaka near Tokyo’s Ueno Park, and you’ll be transported to historic Japan and what remains of the buildings not destroyed in wartime bombings or the Great Kanto Earthquake. In Yanaka, not far from one of the nation’s largest cemeteries, a wandering traveler can find the traditional, wooden minka houses lining the backstreets. The essence of these living relics captured in the green scent of freshly laid tatami mats lining timeworn tea rooms and the narrow, wooden verandas that entirely encircle the homes. Keep walking too much further and the hands of time turn again towards futuristic Tokyo, where you'll find multitudes of high-rise residential developments, skyscrapers, office buildings, and mass merchandisers—all established due to an unending, immense demand for retail space and housing across the city's twenty-three wards.

IT WASN'T FAR from the historical Yanaka district where 26-year-old Azumi stepped off a crowded train car onto the Shinjuku station platform. While the Shinjuku ward of Tokyo is known as a major commercial hub with the standard entertainment and shopping adorned streets, it also has a foothold in Tokyo’s red-light underbelly: Kabukicho. The Kabukicho district was less than a ten-minute’s walk from Shinjuku station, and it was where Azumi was headed this early, summer morning. Usually aglow in neon-lit brilliance and flooded with hedonistic twenty-somethings hopping between pulsating clubs and karaoke lounges, in the stark light of day, the streets just looked tired.

Azumi’s heels clicked and echoed across a litter-strewn alleyway twisting behind one of Kabukicho’s bar-lined streets. A piece of a trampled fast-food wrapper stuck to her shoe, crinkling as she walked a couple more steps before pulling it off with an annoyed huff. Streets around Tokyo are typically kept fastidiously clean, but on an early Saturday morning in Kabukicho, the remnants of last night’s revelry were still scattered around the sidewalks and gutters. Azumi, now walking at a swift pace, nearly tripped over a disheveled businessman half propped against a bench near the end of the alleyway. He was still wearing the quintessential office worker's black suit and tie. His crumpled white dress shirt was untucked and seemingly stained in vomit.

Azumi exclaimed and hopped over him as best she could, wearing her own constricting office attire, a black, knee-length skirt and matching jacket, nude stockings, and white dress shirt, not stained in vomit. Today was a big day for her, and it was important not only that she be on time, but also that she look appropriate and well-groomed. She drew in a long, shaky breath and smoothed her hands over her hair, which was flawlessly pulled up into a sleek ponytail.

Until recently, Azumi had been working as a convenience store clerk for the popular FamilyMart chain of stores. The life she was living was neither a dream come true nor a disappointment, at least not according to Azumi. Growing up, she never took a strong interest in her academics and despite her parents’ urging, by her second year of high school, she had abandoned the after-school clubs and team sports she was pressed into joining. It was around this time that her parents began to dote on Azumi’s younger sister, Asami. One year younger, exceptionally outgoing, and generally radiant, Asami grew to be immensely popular among her peers. Though younger, she was already rivaling Azumi in height and, to Asami’s great delight, she had begun to carry flesh in all the right places. Her skin was desirably dewy and clear, which stunningly contrasted with her large, luminous eyes. When Asami entered the same high school as her older sister a year later, their classmates began to jokingly say the two could not possibly be related. Asami would come to embrace this joke as fact, distancing herself from her dreary sister and strategically avoiding being seen with her on school grounds.

Just like her aspirations in school, Azumi could be described as average. However, in a society that places a premium on conformity, Azumi was more than happy with her ordinary figure and unassuming looks. She gladly accepted her normalcy as a cloak enabling her to blend in with the crowd—a blessing, she believed, when you are raised in a city with nearly 14 million inhabitants. So rather than cramming for the national university entrance exam during her third year of high school, Azumi spent her time planning an escape from her home and beastly beautiful sister. When she finally turned twenty and could move out, she left the Setagaya suburbs for central Tokyo. That would be the last time Azumi would see her childhood home or speak to her family members in person.

OVER THE PAST six years, Azumi had been more-or-less satisfied to spend her days working at FamilyMart and living within her means to enjoy Tokyo’s simple pleasures—drinking, eating cheap but delicious food, shopping, and sometimes partaking in nomihodai (all-you-can-drink) specials with her co-workers at local bars. It wasn’t until recently, when she moved into a female-only share house to save money, that she began to question her living arrangements. After just five months in the lively, two-story house, Azumi realized something needed to change. The other girls, while friendly enough, seemed uncomfortable with Azumi's questionable family background and private personality, resulting in either constant prying or awkward avoidance. She knew the courageous thing to do would be attempting understanding and friendships with her roommates, but instead she had begun looking for studio apartments with immediate move-in availability.

Late one Saturday night after everyone had gone to bed or out for a night of drinking, she discovered the following online ad:

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07/17/21, 22:30 | New Arrival!

*Free housing included* Real Estate Sales Assistant needed

Minna Housing Co., Ltd. , Shinjuku-ku, Shinjuku station

Hourly Wage: 1,200 ~ 1,500 yen, part-time

- Transportation expenses paid

- 10 minutes from Shinjuku station

- No experience required! Call if interested, position starts immediately.

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IT TOOK LESS than two weeks for Azumi to pass the interview process with Minna Housing and join their small team of ten employees. There was, however, a small caveat to the job posting that was explained to Azumi at the end of her interview. Her interviewer and soon-to-be manager, Ms. Adachi, told Azumi matter-of-factly that her first task as the newest member of the sales team would be to undergo a probation period in which she was simply to move into company housing and observe her colleagues at work for a period of three months. Ms. Adachi’s unwavering tone and self-assured manner pacified any of Azumi’s hesitations, and she eagerly placed her signature and hanko seal on each of the numerous employment contract pages. With that, an appointment was set for Azumi to return to the Minna Housing office for her first day and introduction to her new living arrangements.

In Kabukicho near the backstreet where Azumi dodged the drunken businessman, Ms. Adachi was waiting at the downstairs entrance to the Minna Housing real estate office. While she was dressed in nearly the identical office worker style, Ms. Adachi differed from Azumi in all other aspects. Middle-aged and strikingly petite, the synthetic warmth of Ms. Adachi’s smile never quite reached her eyes, which remained cold and impartial as she waved to Azumi, who arrived just at the stroke of 9 a.m. Ms. Adachi proceeded to energetically usher Azumi up the stairs and into the second-floor main office. The Minna Housing office had three branches across central Tokyo with this Kabukicho location being the head. The interior was sparse with three desks set up for sales staff to hold meetings with potential tenants, a quaint waiting area, and a small kitchen in the back for employees to prepare their meals. It certainly had none of the glamour some real estate agencies used to draw in customers. The staff here noticeably wore off-the-rack suits, unlike the high-end real estate agents who bought their bespoke suits in Ginza, kept their hair cut and styled always in the latest fashion, and if women, meticulously maintained their makeup and nails. Azumi had even seen some online ads during her search that included a bonus 'maintenance fee' paid to female staff for their routine nail and hair upkeep.

Of course, this was simply Azumi’s observation and didn’t bother her in the least. She found that she appreciated the commonplace appearance and seemingly lenient expectations at Minna Housing. Ms. Adachi directed her towards a vacant desk at the back of the office and brought them each a paper cup full of hot green tea before launching into her company orientation speech. Azumi enthusiastically nodded her head at appropriate points during the speech to indicate she was understanding and attentively listening, though she was preoccupied with her own anxious excitement to go see her new apartment. By the time Azumi thought her eyes might glaze over, the office door chimed as a young man sluggishly walked in, dropping his briefcase at the desk nearest the front door.

“Mr. Saito, good morning!” The annoyance was just barely evident in Ms. Adachi’s high-pitched tone.

“Oh! Good morning,” stammered Mr. Saito, rushing over to where the two women were sitting and quickly bowing to them both. “Please excuse me," he continued, "It’s so nice to meet you and welcome you to the team! I will be accompanying you to your new apartment this morning.”

In contrast to how he had entered the office, Mr. Saito now exuded well-honed social etiquette and a cheery persona. Azumi eyed him from her seat at the desk, smiling politely and responding in kind. From his appearance, she guessed they were similar in age, though his face was prematurely aged, likely from chain-smoking, possibly from heavy drinking. Together, they both explained to Azumi the particulars of her new home. From the apartment building she would be moving to, it would be a convenient eight-minute walk to the Oedo subway line and then just a fifteen-minute commute to Shinjuku station. It was a one-bedroom, one-bathroom unit located on the top floor of a reinforced concrete building that was constructed in 1987, named Park Mansion Nishi-Shinjuku.

PARK MANSION NISHI-SHINJUKU, est. 1987, Tokyo, Japan.

Most importantly, she would be living there rent-free once she signed the lease this morning—an amazingly good deal for that size apartment and the close proximity to Shinjuku. It was made clear to Azumi that this benefit was only extended to her so long as she successfully continued her employment with Minna Housing and remained living in the provided apartment. Reflecting on the stressful past five months in her share house, Azumi had no second thoughts as she finalized the lease and followed Mr. Saito to the station towards her new home.

THE FRONT DOOR to apartment 406 on the top floor of Park Mansion Nishi-Shinjuku was heavy, gray, and metal. Mr. Saito unlocked the deadbolt and gestured for Azumi to enter first. She offered him a shallow bow, mumbling a "thank you," and shuffled herself into the entryway where two pairs of house slippers awaited their arrival. She nimbly slipped off her black high heels and put on the smaller pair of slippers. It was only when she stepped into the main room that she noticed the pungent, stale smell in the air. As if he could read the nearly imperceptible quiver in Azumi’s fixed smile, Mr. Saito let the heavy door shut quietly behind him and quickly began to ramble off a rehearsed spiel about the apartment’s features: wood-panel flooring, a fully-equipped galley kitchen, built-in AC unit...

“Oh! Did we mention the upstairs loft?” Mr. Saito’s booming voice reverberated in the empty space.

Still grinning he motioned with one hand to a steep set of wooden stairs tucked against the back wall of the living room. They led up into what Mr. Saito described as a bonus loft bedroom only available in top-floor units due to the extra ceiling height.

Charmed by this unexpected gift of additional square footage, Azumi quickly forgot about the musty air, reminding herself to open a window as soon as Mr. Saito left her to be alone. Though obviously older than other more luxurious Shinjuku apartments, Azumi felt this place had all the basics she would need, not to mention peace and quiet. To her surprise, Mr. Saito’s introduction to the apartment was unceremoniously brief. After handing her the new keys and move-in documents, he was gone with a simple "good luck" wish and bow of respect before Azumi had even thought to ask about any kind of security deposit or inspecting the rooms for damage. When the heavy door slammed behind him, the sudden absence of his chatter and self-conscious laughter left the apartment hushed in unnatural silence. Azumi, not yet comfortable in such a new environment, warily walked the perimeter of her new living room, running her fingertips across the sand-colored, coarse wallpaper. The unassuming kitchen led to a small, unit-style bathroom that efficiently housed the toilet, sink, and bath in one waterproof room. Earlier, Ms. Adachi told her that altogether this apartment was 350 square feet—plenty for a single woman living in Tokyo, she was sure of that. Now, Azumi wondered if the bonus loft space was included in that number. She glanced at the stairs leading up into the darkness.

At the top of the stairs, Azumi’s fingers traced the wall in the dark for a light switch, cursing herself for not bringing her phone along to illuminate the pitch-black loft. Blinking out into the unknown darkness, a chilling urgency suddenly gripped her as she fumbled and felt around the walls with both hands until her fingertips finally grazed the switch. The lights flickered as the room came to life, awash in a warm, yellow glow. More than a loft, this appeared to be an entire attic space repurposed to be an additional bedroom, and Azumi was surprised by the elegant crown molding—a dark chestnut—lining the room’s unusual framework. She walked into the middle of the room, standing on the balls of her feet to reach her hands high overhead, but the ceiling here was well over Azumi’s height by at least two feet. She let out a small squeal of excitement. Bonus space? This was more like a full bedroom!

But that wallpaper… Azumi, turned on her tiptoes and shuffled over to one side of the room, crouching down to examine one of the walls more closely. All of them were covered in Victorian-style white rose wallpaper while the ceilings remained plastered in that same sandy-beige stuff from downstairs. Of all the homes and friends’ apartments Azumi had seen growing up in Japan, she had certainly never come across a place quite like this before. Cute! Her mind swirled with interior design ideas and cheerful plans for her new home—she would need to go shopping for a new floral duvet cover to match the wallpaper tomorrow.

Over the next two days, Azumi moved all her belongings up to unit 406 in Park Mansion Nishi-Shinjuku. To help make the move more manageable, she decided to bribe two of her more approachable roommates with beer and free food, and since one of the girls owned a small car, the move-in was all wrapped up by Friday evening, just in time for a weekend celebrating her new good fortune in life. The golden sun was sinking low on Tokyo’s skyscraper horizon when Azumi, along with her two roommates, dropped off the last of her belongings in the center of her now very cluttered living room, and the three women all let out a simultaneous sigh of relief. Filled with high spirits, Azumi was suddenly emboldened to ask both girls to join her for an evening of drinking, perhaps even karaoke. But before she had thought of the right words to make her proposal, the shorter of the two had already pulled out her phone and was now engrossed in furiously texting and tapping her screen, while the other was clearly charting a course towards the front door. Kneeling awkwardly among her sea of packing boxes and what little furniture she owned, Azumi half-heartedly busied herself with a piece of tape on a box marked "Kitchen." A few moments later, as if in unison, both girls wished Azumi good luck in her new home, offering a swift bow of gratitude for the beer and food, and hurried out of the apartment in a flurry of giggles and waving hands. Once the door had slammed shut and the sound of their footsteps disappeared, Azumi stopped pulling the tape from the box and stood up.

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It was about two hours later, and much like Shinjuku, the streets in neighboring Shibuya were coming to life after dusk as the people and travelers of Tokyo began to descend from their high-rise office buildings and urban dwellings to enjoy a night of drinking and enchantment in Tokyo’s 'Valley of Youth'. An energetic street life feeds the surge of subculture and fashion constantly streaming through Shibuya’s sloping, narrow streets filled with hole-in-the-wall pubs alongside jazz bars, themed dance clubs, designer clothing stores, multistory malls, endless restaurants, and towering Sega arcades. Only a five-minute train ride from Shinjuku station, many choose to begin or end their night of bar hopping at either of these major hubs for entertainment, food, and all-night drinking.

For Azumi, the night was just beginning at 7 p.m. as she entered the chaotic scramble of the Shibuya Crossing intersection. She joined the masses passing through the broad crossroads and moving towards the heart of Shibuya. In her six-inch, black platform heels, she stood a head above the others. With each step, her matching silver metallic skirt and crop top caught and reflected the neon lights beaming down from the jumble of beckoning retail signs and LED billboards looming over the city.

Rather than her normally sleek, black hair, Azumi now wore a shimmery rose-pink wig that she'd twisted up into two knotted buns sitting on either side of her head. Her eyes shone bright and large, transformed by circle lenses to a shade of pink matching her pastel makeup. Tonight, Azumi didn't look or feel like her nine-to-five self.

Awash in the neon glow of greens, yellows, and blues, the vibrancy along with the general excitement in the air made Azumi stomp her way carefree and confident past Shibuya’s main attractions and towards the darker, quieter backstreets north of the station. The frenetic city sounds of buzzing chatter, barmaids calling for customers, and roadway traffic began to fall away, and soon Azumi’s footsteps were all that echoed in her wake as she neared the unassuming building tucked away on a street that slopes down one of Shibuya’s many hillside avenues.

Nearly hidden on the basement level of an office building, the hypnotizing drone of heavy metal radiating from within Bar Neon Noir entices curious passersby to pause, linger, and sometimes come inside. Aggressively rhythmic bass and evocative vocals pour out in resounding bursts every time the bar door swings open and shut. It was by accident that Azumi discovered this place a couple years ago during an alcohol-fueled night of New Year’s Eve karaoke with co-workers. She had wandered off from the group to make a convenience store run and stumbled past Neon Noir along the way. Attracted to the unrelenting, powerful rhythm of the music and the idea of getting away from her rowdy co-workers for a while, she made her way down the basement steps and into the bar’s womb of distorted melodies. From what she remembers of that night, it was the first time she truly enjoyed Tokyo’s nightlife and it sparked her love for music. Since then, she would continue to make an occasion of returning to Neon Noir for nights of escapism, dressed completely unlike her typical, timid self and usually by herself, to enjoy the music and atmosphere, sometimes requesting songs to the DJ when she grew tired of the same playlists.

By now, Azumi was friendly with the bar staff at Neon Noir, and they shouted "Welcome!" to her in unison as she entered from the basement stairwell. After exchanging greetings and a drink order with the nearest of the bartenders, Azumi seated herself at the far-end of the semicircular, black bar top and glanced around to assess tonight’s crowd—small groupings of patrons dotted the bar tables with a few loners, like Azumi, at the bar top. Inside was minimally decorated and kept dimly lit with most of the light coming from the blueish glow of large LED screens playing the music videos or lyrics of the songs blasting from the bar speakers. Azumi idly watched one of the screens above the bar where the DJ was playing something by Maximum the Hormone. The haunting face on the album cover was flickering across all the bar's screens, as if watching over everyone with a ghoulish grin.

What's Up People by Maximum the Hormone

She was just finishing her second whiskey sour and starting to feel good when she heard a voice in the crowd calling out her name. Perhaps lost in thought, she had barely noticed that the bar had begun filling with a lively crowd since she had sat down. Now, she was surrounded on either side by jostling people ordering drinks, laughing, and attempting to sing along in German to something playing by Rammstein. She looked around but couldn’t identify the unknown voice at first glance until she saw his familiar, black-rimmed glasses and long, jet-black hair manifest in the crowd a few moments later. Shouldering his way through the small gathering near Azumi’s seat, Yuki was a little out of breath by the time he reached the bar top. Azumi, with an astute smile on her face, took a good look at her friend. He was wearing a massively oversized graphic T-shirt that said, “CONFORMITY IS A VIRTUE” in English, black and green plaid jeans, and chunky platform boots. His hair was smoothed straight and hanging long past his shoulders. This was the eccentric style Yuki was known for and that Azumi had grown fond of since meeting him at Neon Noir about a year ago. Whenever their paths crossed here, they would share some drinks and stories, but beyond first names, their love of music, some embarrassing childhood stories, and general work/life banter, Yuki and Azumi tended never to get too personal. As if an unspoken rule, when the sun came up and the first trains started to operate, they would go their separate ways and let fate decide when their next meeting at Neon Noir would be.

“I like your shirt!” Azumi had to lean close to Yuki to make her voice heard over the thundering chaos of music and drunken conversations in the bar.

“I like your—” Yuki made a general sweeping motion with his hands in Azumi’s direction.

She gave a hint of a smile in reply, the vibrant pinks of her eyeshadow and lipstick sparkling beneath the bar lights.

“Do you want to?” Yuki raised his right hand and made a smoking motion with his fingers, then nodded his head towards the exit.

Azumi promptly drained the remainder of her whiskey sour and thumped it down on the bar top. “You’re reading my mind, Yuki-kun.”

THE PAIR SAT down on a curb outside the bar just as a gentle rain began to fall, slicking the concrete streets and swirling together the glow of city lights in a scene of surreal watercolors. The quiet hit them like a wall as soon as they elbowed their way free from the bar's front door. Neither had yet spoken a word. Yuki pulled a crumpled pack of Seven Stars from his jeans pocket, offering one to Azumi before lighting one for himself.

"Still smoking these old man cigarettes, I see," said Azumi, cradling her cigarette under her palm to shelter it from the raindrops.

"Still going out alone, I see," Yuki looked over at Azumi who was still staring directly ahead.

A long silence spread between the two as Azumi pulled a long drag off her cigarette, letting the smoke leave her lungs freely in an exaggerated, slow exhale. "Actually, I'm celebrating tonight, Yuki-kun." Azumi both affectionately and teasingly added the honorific "-kun" to Yuki's name to remind him that she was a few years his senior.

"Celebrating getting another year older?" Yuki teased back.

"Not this time. Celebrating my new apartment and job—not working at that FamilyMart anymore."

Azumi continued to update Yuki on the recent changes in her life, excitedly giving him the details of her rent-free apartment and bonus room in Nishi-Shinjuku. It had been about two months since they'd last bumped into each other at Neon Noir. Yuki, who worked for a large IT firm in Tokyo's Chiyoda ward, had just come from work that time and was already piss drunk, merrily ranting about office scandals and the annoying co-workers in his department. Though he never said it directly to Azumi, she always felt that Yuki hoped for her to find a better job and seek more happiness in life outside of music and solo drinking.

The rain was starting to let up now. Yuki flicked away the remainder of his cigarette, watching it bounce across the empty, wet street in a flurry of red embers. He pulled his phone from his pocket and motioned for Azumi to do the same.

"Here, hold on a second," said Yuki. He tapped a few times on his screen and Azumi's phone chimed, lighting up with a new notification.

"Whoa. Is this you? How'd you do that?" Azumi's messenger app had a new text message from someone named, "PikotaroYuki," containing just an animated gif of a smiling, winking cat.

Yuki laughed and said, "Yeah, I thought maybe it was about time, you know?"

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AZUMI ARRIVED BACK to her apartment about two hours later. Dead tired, she kicked her shoes off in the entryway and collapsed on her small sofa in the corner of the living room. She didn't have the energy to unpack and arrange her futon upstairs and resolved herself to making the sofa a comfortable place to sleep just for tonight. Pale beams of moonlight were filtering into the room from the window nearby, and Azumi felt the heaviness of sleep wash over her slowly at first, then all at once.

トコトコ...トコトコ...トコトコ...

Tap...Tap...Tap...Tap...

She thought the shuffling sound was coming from her own lucid dream, but as her senses sharpened, Azumi realized the sound of dragging footsteps was coming from above her.

It was at the same moment that her phone lit up and chimed, causing her to jump with a heart-pounding gasp. Azumi clutched around the sofa cushion until she grasped her phone, squinting at the glaring, bright screen. It was a text message from Yuki.

03:32 PikotaroYuki: Not to freak you out, but something you said tonight made me think of this... just thought I'd share with you! :)

She tapped on the message and it opened to show a link leading to some blogger's web page. Pausing for a moment, Azumi listened carefully to the sounds of her apartment, but the footsteps she'd heard coming from upstairs had now disappeared. She was just about to shut off her phone and try to calm herself back to sleep when the blog headline caught her eye.

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Are You Living in a Jiko Bukken?!

HOME >> Yamanote Line Real Estate Column >> Illegal activity & real estate agents?

Release date: 2019/07/15

A jiko bukken is any property where the former tenant died of unnatural causes, such as suicide, murder, fire, or neglect. They can be rented or purchased at very low prices, provided you are okay with the history of the home or apartment.

Under the Real Estate Transaction Law, the real estate license-holder has a legal obligation to inform the tenant or buyer of any known unnatural deaths that occurred in the property.

For properties for rent, the real estate agent is obligated to inform the very next tenant who moves into the property after the incident. However, there is a loophole that is often exploited by menacing agents! The agent has no obligation to inform any future tenants after that first person moves out. Some real estate agencies are known to rent the ‘incident apartment’ to one of their staff for a short period before re-listing the apartment at the full market price. The history of that place is virtually erased after that.

There is nothing to stop a landlord or realtor from renting an apartment to an individual for a month or two, or even ‘renting’ it to themselves. This isn’t technically illegal but isn’t very nice, is it?

According to our source who wishes to remain anonymous, "I’ve hired part-time workers just to live in the jiko bukken properties for a short period of time. This is starting to drive up costs, though, so sometimes I just don’t mention it to tenants in the first place to save money.”

Have you heard of property laundering?

Property laundering is the process of skillfully concealing a jiko bukken property and having someone move in as if it were an ordinary property. Look out for these common signs!

1. Was the rent severely discounted? An apartment where there was a violent death, in particular, will be a lot cheaper because the agent cannot successfully rent it at the normal price.
2. Have your neighbors said anything odd? It's possible that your neighbors might know more than you or even tell you if something happened there. Keep your eyes and ears open.
3. Was the name of your apartment building changed recently? If a murder happened there, it can sometimes spread quickly on social media or news sources. This can disgrace the apartment company name, so the owner might change the name (sometimes very subtly!) and just pretend that what is rumored online is about another apartment building.
4. Does one room look unusual or different than the others? If a violent death happened there, blood stains may have soaked into the floor or walls, or body fluids may have seeped into the floor. To remove the traces, most apartments are remodeled but in an unnatural way. Look out for a home where the baths and toilets are old, but another room in the house looks newer. Be careful of any room in your home that appears strange or recently renovated.

NOTE: In fact, I have heard that some companies even use their own agents to sign a contract for these ‘incident apartments'. Usually, the employee doesn’t actually live in the apartment, though.

Actually, there was a jiko bukken near me, so let's talk about that. There was a tragic incident in my neighborhood, near Ayase station, where a ramen shop owner was stabbed to death by a former employee around midnight. After that, the shop just sat there unoccupied for a long time. More than a year later, the store was demolished and turned into a vacant lot, but after a while, an apartment building was constructed, and people started moving in. After a couple months, many new residents living on the first floor had become severely ill, but the cause was never determined. I'm sure you don't know anything about this incident because many crimes go unreported or are kept out of the public eye to keep crime rate statistics low. Just a tip... You can find out about stuff like this on 2channel...

The old ramen shop prior to the incident & its demolition

Personally, I couldn’t live in those apartments even if the old place got demolished. Anyway, below are some tips if you believe you are living in a jiko bukken! Thanks for reading and stay safe out there everyone <3 <3 <3

How to Cure Your Home

• Morijio Salt

Keep salt in your home when you live in a jiko bukken. Put it near the entrance of your home and replace it twice a month. It has cleansing properties and keeps evil from entering. If your house is already impure (cursed), you can try scattering the salt across the floors, too.

• Ofuda Talisman

You can get this from your preferred shrine. Hang the talisman you choose in your house for protection. You can also ask for a more specific Ofuda to be placed in the room or near the object that is causing you trouble or harm.

• Shimenawa Sacred Rope

This is a handmade rope or wreath made of rice straw that acts as a barrier between the otherworld and this world and will prevent the invasion of evil into your home. It is strung across shrines, wrapped around sacred objects, and used to enclose spaces to protect their purity. Pay attention to where you hang it and the direction it faces—it makes a difference!

• Purification Ritual

Finally, as a last resort, house purification may be performed on request to purify your home and protect you. For it to be most effective the ceremony should be performed before you move into an existing house, especially when it is old and has accumulated a lot of kegare (i.e., defilement, such as by contact with death or malice).

Sources: Japan Property Central & Savvy Tokyo

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PART TWO

怨霊 ‘onryō’

Vengeful Spirit ... A ghost believed to be capable of causing harm in the world of the living.

……

AZUMI’S HANDS WERE nearly trembling as she finished scrolling to the bottom of the blog post, reading the last of the author’s suggestions for curing a cursed jiko bukken property.

Does one room look unusual or different than the others?

Reading that headline and the description that followed had struck her with a dreadful anxiety that had now settled deeply in the pit of her stomach. Azumi admittedly wasn’t all that spiritual or knowledgeable of the supernatural, despite being raised in ultra-superstitious Japan. During her childhood, Azumi had again disappointed her parents by never sincerely adhering to or enthusiastically participating in the many Shinto or Buddhist customs practiced by everyone year-round in Japan.

Once when she was only seven years old, she had terribly embarrassed both her parents and grandparents during the Shichi-Go-San (Seven-Five-Three) Festival, an important day held each autumn where families and their children pray at shrines for the children’s health & safety as they continue to grow. That day was Azumi’s first time being dressed in a full, traditional kimono, and she had been complaining of feeling itchy, squirming uncomfortably ever since the elderly woman at the kimono rental shop had tightly wrapped her in seemingly endless layers of fabric and cinched her tiny waist with an obi belt.

While sitting for the special ceremony and listening to the Shinto priest read prayers for what felt like forever, Azumi started fidgeting so willfully that her mother was beginning to pinch and scold her in hushed whispers. When the priest finally beckoned for Azumi and her parents to come to the front and join him so he could bestow Azumi with a personal blessing, she shot up from her seat so fast that a small, startled cry escaped from her grandmother. To her family’s horror, rather than walking up to the priest, Azumi was shuffling away in the opposite direction as quickly as she could, stripping off layers of her kimono as she went and leaving them in a rumpled trail behind her. Perhaps not wanting to acknowledge the indignity of the situation, her family hesitated momentarily to react, so it was the bemused priest who called out to Azumi, “But child, don’t you at least want your piece of chitose ame candy?” This red-and-white candy was the customary gift given to children after their ceremony.

As if she had not already brought them enough disgrace, standing disheveled near the ceremony room exit scratching at her bare stomach, Azumi shouted back in a hoarse voice, “No, it tastes funny!”, before running out of the room.

For some reason it was that day and the bewildered look on the priest’s face that Azumi was remembering now as her mind churned over all she had just learned. Jiko bukken properties were nothing new to Azumi, and she’d never really given the issue much thought either way, but the details about menacing real estate agents, property laundering, cursed homes… and… Azumi’s racing thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound from above her.

バタバタ... バタバタ... バタバタ...

Thud...Thud...Thud...Thud...

It was the sound of a rapid succession of heavy footsteps, not like the lightly shuffling feet from before, and Azumi was sure this time that it had come from the upstairs bedroom.

……

IT TOOK AZUMI just a few moments to climb the narrow staircase to reach the room upstairs, but the climb up felt agonizingly long, as her mind was clouded with fear and her body, anxiously trembling in a cold sweat, seemingly did not want to cooperate. Though Azumi’s instincts were telling her not to come near this room, that the sound of these footsteps somehow meant her harm, her logical mind was saying that she needed to go see for herself and not to let her imagination get the best of her.

This time, she quickly found the light switch in the darkness and held her breath as she flipped it on. With the sudden burst of light, the room’s elegant wallpaper now took on a garish life of its own. The glare shining across the blooms of roses appeared lurid and alien to Azumi, her eyes still adjusting to the new light as she took several, cautious steps into the room, glancing to her left and right as if something or someone might manifest within the empty room at any moment. She was standing now directly in the center of the room, and the silence of the apartment, of the deathly quiet night, surrounded her with a ringing muteness in both her ears. Azumi was facing the backwall of the room with her back turned to the doorway where she had entered from the steep stairway. The angled ceiling loomed and crept above her head as if it might draw near and swallow Azumi where she stood. A prickling sensation on the back of her neck warned Azumi that, behind her back, something was watching her from the doorway—she felt an adrenaline-fueled rush of heat flush her face and cripple all her senses, leaving her with two choices—remain where she stood or turn to face it.

With the incessant ringing in her ears still numbing her sense of hearing, Azumi deeply inhaled a shaky, long breath, before turning on one foot and looking behind her towards the doorway and the darkness that sat behind it.

。

。

。

。

。

。

The woman’s face appeared, stark white, covered in branching, purple veins, and stricken with a passion of pain and horror flaming within her coal-black eyes. It was so near to Azumi’s own face that it entirely filled her field of vision. Dark tendrils of long, decayed hair swarmed around Azumi’s head and body, snaking in different directions until Azumi was enwrapped in the stringy black coils, feeling them twist and tighten on her limbs, suffocating the breath from her body.

“…Aiko,” the ghostly voice wailed the name, “…Aiko, Aiko, Aiko!”

Azumi fell to the floor in a daze, struggling for ragged gasps of air. Her vision blurred, faded, and finally blacked out altogether, leaving just the sound of the wailing woman quaking in her ears. Then, Azumi lost consciousness, falling into a deep, disturbed sleep.

……

“AIKO!”

The disembodied scream just inches from her face woke Azumi with a jump. She was still lying in the same place right in the center of the attic room, but faint morning light was now filtering up and into the room from downstairs. The horror of last night’s incident came back to Azumi in one giant wave of realization, and she leapt to her feet, looking around the room wildly, her eyes wide with terror. In a rush of panic, she hurried downstairs, nearly stumbling on the final step, and toppled into the living room, catching herself at the last moment on the edge of the sofa. Within reach on the sofa cushion, her phone was blinking to indicate she had missed messages or calls. She clutched for it, snatching up the phone and holding it near to her, as if it were a sacred lifeline to reality, keeping her safe from whatever malice was unfolding within her apartment.

06:55 PikotaroYuki: Morning, hope you aren’t too hungover today. Let me know if you read that blog post I sent. Get some coffee later?

Azumi hadn’t even noticed that her head was throbbing with a splitting headache, and she couldn’t tell if it was from drinking at Neon Noir last night or just from how distressing the last few hours had been. Her fingers flew across the phone’s screen, typing out a prompt reply to Yuki.

07:22 AdzukiAzumi: I read it, Yuki. Can we meet?

07:23 PikotaroYuki: Sure, but my schedule is getting tight. Meet me tonight? I’ll text you when I’m free.

07:24 AdzukiAzumi: OK, Yuki. That sounds good. The sooner the better. Just let me know when and where.

……

AFTER ARRANGING TO meet with Yuki later that night, Azumi quickly threw on a pair of jogger sweatpants and a hoodie she found stuffed inside one of the boxes she had still yet to unpack. Shoving some clothes and toiletries into a backpack, she grabbed her phone charger and a bottle of water, then fled her apartment and headed towards Shinjuku to find an Internet café.

Azumi stopped in front of an old, tall building off a street lined with clothing shops, cafes, and bars that hadn’t yet unshuttered their businesses for the day. The sign on the front of the building read, “ネットカフェ: 6- to 9-Hour Stay, From ~980 Yen!” Like some of the Internet and manga cafes in Tokyo, Net Room Manboo was primarily catering to the city’s urban poor, who used the hostel-like accommodations inside the cafes to avoid a life of homelessness on the streets. For Azumi, this was the perfect way to get out of her apartment, for at least today and overnight, to figure out what was going on and what to do next.

Inside the net café, the staff kept the lights dimmed to near complete darkness everywhere but inside the main entrance, the shower & bathroom area, and the reading lounge/kitchen, enabling the café’s cyber-homeless residents to restfully sleep any time of day or night. Finding her way back to the small booth she rented for the café’s nine-hour period proved to be a challenge. Looking down and keeping her head low, Azumi scuffled past a sleepy looking man in a rumpled suit, and slipped into a makeshift cubicle that would be her private booth during her stay. Inside the booth, she was provided with a faux leather foam sleeping mat, a small overhead light, a desk attached to the cubicle wall, and a PC with unlimited Wi-Fi access.

Azumi self-consciously sat down in her booth, being careful to make as little sound as possible so she wouldn’t disturb any of the net café’s sleeping customers. Once she had settled in and made herself comfortable, she turned on the PC, drumming her fingertips across her lower lip in anxious anticipation as the machine booted up.

2CHAN, or FUTABA CHANNEL, an image and textboard website based in Japan, allows people to anonymously share information on a variety of topics. The privacy 2chan provides sets it apart from mass media and the eyes of hypercritical society, propelling the website to become an influential part of Japan’s Internet subculture. Azumi only had a surface-level understanding of the Internet, limited to social media and Googling things, and so the 2chan homepage looked foreign to her as she sat staring at the screen like a mystified voyager about to venture into unknown territory. She had decided that 2chan would be a good starting point for her research into her new apartment since the blog article Yuki shared with her mentioned it as a resource. Determined to find out everything she could about Park Mansion Nishi-Shinjuku and the possibility it was a jiko bukken property, she began her investigation by typing “Tokyo jiko bukken Park Mansion Nishi-Shinjuku” into the 2chan search bar.

After about fifteen minutes of scrolling through irrelevant results and images of purportedly haunted apartments around Tokyo, none of which were her own residence, Azumi cleared her search and irritably typed a new query into the search bar: “how to get rid of jiko bukken ghosts”.

The below post was the first to catch her eye.

……

2chan ふたば☆ちゃんねる

Name: HIMAWARIさん | 14/01/01, 16:53 | No. 3627850

Shared to: #creepy #paranormal #happynewyear #howIgotdumped

A Happy New Year’s Post

Happy New Years, アホ! On this joyous day, I'm sharing something I found about one of my favorite topics—paranormal and creepy sh*t. Read it, enjoy it, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.

Wrathful Ghosts: Yūrei & Onryō Spirits

Similar to ghosts in western folklore, yūrei are the spirits of the deceased who are left roaming the earth for various reasons and can cause harm to the living, depending on the type of yūrei. Each yūrei haunting is unique, as each human life and death is. As such, there is no standardized way to deal with them. Each has its own reasons for haunting, and its own terms to be fulfilled before it rests.

Here we meet Okiku, the heroine of “Banchō Sarayashiki,” a well-known ghost story in Japan. In this story, she bravely helped to save the true ruler of Himeji castle and overthrow his imposter. She protected herself and her lover by defying an undesirable suitor. In revenge, the suitor framed her for the theft of a gold plate and hoped to blackmail her into marriage. When Okiku still refused, he killed her and tossed her body into the castle’s well. There she remains, her wronged, restless spirit forever counting the plates in search of the missing one. People stopped visiting the well after dark, for fear of confronting her wrathful spirit.

Okiku’s untimely, violent death caused her spirit eternal torment, and spread fear to those she once loved. But there is another category of yūrei which present their feelings in much more harmful ways. When people die with strong emotions, such as rage, jealousy, or hatred, their spirits remain connected to the human world, enacting vengeance on anyone or anything which crosses their path. They behave more like forces of nature than ghosts, being powerful enough to inflict illness and death and even cause natural disasters. Of all the types of yūrei, these are the ones which no one ever wants to encounter. These are the onryō. Aside from their abhorrent deeds, what makes onryō so terrifying is that they can seldom be reasoned with or banished. Unlike other yūrei, their desire for vengeance is insatiable.

The onryō are not only dangerous to individuals but are also believed to be capable of causing extreme havoc. Many plagues, earthquakes, famines, fires, storms, and the like have been connected to the vengeful ghosts.

They induce fear not only because of their unnatural actions and appearances, but also by providing a glimpse of the corruption that extreme emotional upset can create. With understanding them comes the realization that we could also become them if the circumstances arose. Traumatic events leave their mark on the physical world.

Is There an Onryō Near You or Your Home?

Many theories about how you get rid of a vengeful ghost exist. Since it is such a prominent figure in the Shinto religion, most of the rituals originate there. Often, certain measures are needed to get rid of an onryō. They are said to be very hard to get rid of, though.

While most yūrei only haunt a person or place until they are exorcised or placated, an onryō’s grudge-curse continues to infect a location long after the ghost itself is gone. So, can one ever get rid of them if they follow you or haunt your home?

According to folklore, the onryō are victims of battle, murder, or suicide, who roam the earth to remedy the pain that has been inflicted upon them. Contrary to popular belief, these spirits aren’t inherently evil, but are rather made to be so, due to cruel and bitter circumstances. In all my research, the best solution I’ve found to curing the soul of an onryō is to appease them with an act of justice—assuming you are not the one who originally caused their demise (in that case there is basically no hope for you, friend).

The onryō have great powers, and can kill their enemy in one go, if they so desire. However, they prefer to inflict a slow and torturous punishment, until the culprit loses his mind, gets killed, or commits suicide.

An onryō’s wrath not only effects the wrongdoer, but his friends and family as well. So even if you never wronged the onryō, causing its untimely death, if it views you as a threat, you may be in danger. They slay and destroy anything that comes in their way. The vengeance felt by an onryō can never be satisfied, and even if the spirit is exorcised, the space will continue to contain negative energy for a long time to come.

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みんなさん! Once again, don’t go looking for trouble on account of my posts—after what happened last month, I am not looking to get banned!! Anyway, Happy New Years! Leave a comment below if you’ve found any other or better ways to free the spirit of an onryō and bring peace to these wrathful souls.

Sources: Symbol Sage, Moonmausoleum, & Fox Spirit

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Replies: (sorted by most liked)

• Anonymous - (119 likes): The easiest way to get rid of an onryō is to let it do whatever it wants. Once it gets its revenge, it will rest in peace. If you can’t manage that, you can also help the ghost by slaying its killer or giving its body a proper burial, if that hasn’t been done yet.
• Kaori - (88 likes): Most theories suggest that onryō can be appeased with an act of justice. After all, they are just trying to clear their memory of their life on Earth.
• Fumi - (32 likes): You need a priest to perform a cleansing ritual, like an exorcism, if you want to forcefully remove an onryō. That’s what I’ve always heard.
• Kami-sama - (28 likes): Has anyone heard of that method where someone put a piece of holy paper on the onryō’s forehead? You’re supposed to write the name of a specific kami (deity) on the paper to banish the spirit from the cursed place, or something like that…

……

Azumi finished reading the 2chan comments and hastily wrote down two notes to herself on a piece of scrap paper:

• Aiko—Who is she? What happened to her?
• An act of justice or proper burial?

If this was real, if this was really happening to Azumi, and if an onryō had really shown itself to her, then this was not something Azumi was going to ignore. She had never approached her life that way. When she felt her parent’s affections dwindle and turn towards her younger sister, she accepted her fate with the keen awareness that, if she wanted to change her life, she needed to take responsibility for her own wellbeing and happiness. It was that same deliberate tenacity that now gripped Azumi and drove her forward, but towards what solution, she feared she did not know.

She sat in the darkness of her secluded net café booth, uneasily pondering her next course of action. In her mind, she was rashly proposing then shooting down a seemingly countless number of ideas for what she should do next: Go back to the apartment building to talk to the neighbors? Try out some of the jiko bukken cures from that other blog article? Risky, but try to see what her manager, Ms. Adachi, knows?

Suddenly, Azumi’s phone started to chime and buzz, making her lurch for it to silence the annoying sound before it could disturb any of the other net café patrons. It was a text message from Yuki.

07:23 PikotaroYuki: Shinjuku Center Building, rooftop. Use code 316 in the elevator. 9PM?

07:24 AdzukiAzumi: OK, but why there?

07:25 PikotaroYuki: Haven’t you ever wanted to try rooftopping in Tokyo? People would pay good money for this kind of access, Azumi. Trust me.

……

IT WAS JUST after 8 p.m. and despite the net café’s central location, when Azumi stepped out of the building’s first-floor entrance, she was pleasantly surprised to find that the surrounding streets were unusually hushed and vacant.

She turned left and began to aimlessly walk in the direction of Shinjuku’s business and skyscraper district. Less than a fifteen-minute walk from where she was staying, Azumi knew she was leaving early, but couldn’t bear to be cooped up in her dark, tiny booth at the café any longer, trapped with her avalanche of anxious thoughts.

Azumi placed one earbud in her left ear, leaving the other dangling free, and pressed play on a playlist labeled “Late-night vibes.”

Grimes - So Heavy I Fell Through the Earth

An electronic hum of heavy-hitting, hypnotic bass balanced by a sweetly mesmerizing voice poured into her ears and across the night, transforming the city’s character through a musical lens. The neon-lit streets took on the life of the music's trance-like harmony as Azumi marched forward, breathing in the cool, night air and attempting to free her mind of thought and worry.

Catching a glimpse of her shrouded figure as she strode past a building lined in reflective glass windows, Azumi felt pleased with the look she had managed to put together from the items she had haphazardly brought along to the net café. Subdued yet intriguing, her outfit was entirely black and accented in lace layers. Her tulle skirt and form-fitting top created a feminine silhouette, set off by an edgy, spiked choker tied around her neck. She'd loosely tied her long, dark hair into two pigtails sitting high on either side of her head, and her eyes were brilliantly large, glossy and dark thanks to the black circle lenses she wore over her own eyes.

Azumi was walking nowhere in particular, but simply killing time until her rooftop meeting with Yuki at 9 p.m. She decided she would walk in the general direction of the Shinjuku Center Building and roam the skyscraper district around there until it was time to venture to the top of the building. Her mesmerizing playlist kept her moving at a steady pace without paying much attention to her surroundings or the countless number of strangers she wove past as she neared this busier area of Shinjuku. Azumi slowed her steps as she approached a crosswalk blinking yellow, then flashing a red hand signal to indicate pedestrians should stop and wait for the traffic to pass. Growing impatient as more and more commuters amassed to wait at the crosswalk, Azumi cut diagonally through the crowd and down an alleyway adjacent to the main street where she was once again alone.

The businesses lining the alleyway were either closed for the day or no longer in operation, leaving the area abandoned of people and noise. From above, glowing red lanterns illuminated Azumi's path down the long, straight alleyway. Gradually at first, she felt the familiar prickling sensation manifest on the back of her neck and shiver down her spine. Azumi stopped walking and muted the volume on her phone, pulling the single headphone out from her ear. She stood motionless directly beneath the rouge glow shining down from one of the paper lanterns hanging above her and swaying gently in the evening breeze.

For several moments, Azumi only heard the faint discord of city sounds in the far-off distance, and she was just about to put her headphone back in when she noticed the ringing in her ears, nearly imperceptible at first, but growing louder at an alarming rate. Suddenly, silence fell across the alleyway as if consumed by the vacuum of space, and what Azumi heard next struck her with such a bewildered terror that she took off running down the length of the alleyway and towards Shinjuku Center Building, purely from her natural instinct of fear and without looking behind her.

怖い声

…….

IN HER FRANTIC, breathless state, it took Azumi a couple attempts to figure out how to key in the elevator code and bypass access to Shinjuku Center Building's rooftop level. She was beginning to worry that she was drawing too much attention to herself, when finally the elevator accepted her entry and began rapidly ascending the 54-story skyscraper. When she reached the rooftop door, it was difficult to push open from the inside because the wind was blowing with such a force on the outside. Finally, using one shoulder, she shoved the door open and was instantly awestruck by the dazzling view of Tokyo’s cityscape, so breathtaking that at first she didn’t notice Yuki’s shadowed figure sitting farther away on the very edge of the building, his legs hanging off the side above the immense drop.

Yuki was sitting down, facing out and away from Azumi and didn’t hear her approaching him until she was close enough to reach out and touch his shoulder. The two exchanged a brief nod as a greeting, and Yuki reached one hand out to Azumi, guiding her to sit down on the building ledge next to him.

"Okay, I admit it," Azumi said.

"You admit it?" Yuki replied with a puzzled expression.

"I admit that I would pay for this view! Rooftopping? How have I never thought of this before!" Azumi was suddenly beaming as she soaked in the exclusive, birds-eye view of Tokyo's dark hours.

Yuki smiled back at her, studying Azumi's face as she gazed fixedly out into the night. Her eyes and lips were painted an ultra-dark, shimmery shade of deep purple that reminded Yuki of amethyst stone.

“Tell me something,” said Yuki. They were sitting close enough together that he barely needed to raise his voice above a whisper for her to hear him above the howling wind.

Azumi peered back at him with questioning eyes that gleamed under the moonglow.

“Why do you look like a different person every time we meet up? Why not just go out looking like… I don’t know… you?”

Azumi pondered his question for several moments while the wind filled the moments of silence with whistling, brisk gusts. Finally, she turned to him and said, “When no one knows your face in a city like this, in a city as big as Tokyo, then you get to choose who everyone—every stranger I pass or random person I meet drinking—sees me as.” She paused briefly here, as if reflecting on the words she’d just spoken, before continuing, “So when you see Neon Noir Azumi, you’re just seeing who I fancy myself being that night. Because it doesn’t matter. No one knows who I really am to say, ‘Wow! You look different!’ To them just seeing me, that’s how I’ve always looked and seemed. That’s the Azumi they get to know for a few hours.”

Yuki was staring pensively at the Shinjuku streets far below, watching the masses of people and cars move through the city's maze of sidewalks and roads. From up here, they looked like ants trudging along a network of concrete pathways. Speaking slowly at first, he said, “Yeah, but… isn’t that lonely? I mean, doesn’t that make you feel like you’re not really ever letting anyone in?”

Azumi chuckled to herself, looking down at her feet swinging back-and-forth over the edge of the building. “It’s actually the opposite, Yuki-kun,” she replied. “I get to go out, be free, and connect with people without any of the risk.”

“Risk of what?” Yuki asked.

“Risk of disappointing anyone with the real me,” Azumi said. Then, she suddenly reached over Yuki and grabbed the open saké bottle she noticed he’d been sipping from and took a long gulp. She drained a quarter of the bottle in one swallow and shook her head vigorously from the rush of alcohol burning down her throat. “Let’s dance!” she exclaimed, hopping up quickly and wobbling around on her feet enough to make Yuki’s palms sweat.

After several minutes of laughter and teasing Yuki, urging him with no luck to come dance under the stars with her, Azumi returned to her spot next to him with a sarcastic pout.

"You're more fun when you're drunk, know that?" Azumi said in a playfully provoking tone.

Yuki laughed softly under his breath and replied, "What's gotten into you tonight?"

Azumi suddenly grew quiet and the smile faded from her face. Turning to him she said, "I need to tell you something, and I hope you can help me because I think it's getting worse."

......

End of Part Two

To Be Continued...