Poet Tatsuo Hasegawa was looking for a quiet place to work at the time.
He found an unbelievably inexpensive house in Setagaya Ward and decided to rent it.
Since it was so inexpensive, he had a vague idea that something might happen to it.
However, Mr. Hasegawa, who had lived alone all his life, had cultivated a strong spirit from childhood that was unperturbed by even the slightest problem.
It is said that the Hasegawa family members had a terrible way of dying, as if by fate or something.
He also said that the family had split up and that Tatsuo was the last survivor of the Hasegawa family.
Therefore, he was rather pleased to be able to rent a spacious house in Setagaya with a dense garden at a reasonable price.
The move was completed without incident, and he was working at his desk writing every day.
One day, he went out into the yard and casually looked at the house and noticed something strange.
There was a room on the second floor of the house that he did not recognize.
Mr. Tatsuo entered the house and looked for the room where it should be, but could not find it.
Finally, he found the end of the second floor hallway to be suspicious.
When the wooden wall was peeled back, an entrance appeared from inside, with a slab of wood hammered in the shape of a batten mark.
After removing the boards, Tatsuo peeked inside and was startled.
It was a purely Japanese-style room of about 8 tatami mats with a sunken hearth in the middle.
“Why is this room turned into an empty room?”
Mr. Tatsuo was indeed beginning to feel a little creeped out.
His work space was on the first floor, and as he concentrated on writing that night, he suddenly felt the presence of someone behind him.
When he turned around, he saw a large pillar in the corner of the dimly lit room.
“Was there a pillar here?” But when I looked at it more closely, I found that
A small elderly man was sitting cross-legged next to the pillar, looking at Tatsuo and smiling at him.
Mr. Tastuo thought inwardly, ‘At last, it has appeared,’ but strangely, he was not afraid.
He thought that he must be the owner of this place or something and had come out to greet him, and he was amazed at his boldness.
After that, the old man appeared every night, but he did not say or do anything, so I left him alone.
Then Tatsuo’s health gradually deteriorated, and in the end he became almost bedridden.
With no relatives, he contacted a poet acquaintance of his (I think her name was Momoko Yoneyama, or something like that), and she told him that she was going to take care of him.
“You’re going to die if you keep going like this,” he was told.
According to Mr. Yoneyama, “there must be something in the yard that the family cares about very much.
You had to find it and make a memorial service.”
The next day, Mr.Tastuo got up and went out into the garden.
While sweeping up fallen leaves and other debris with a bamboo broom, he found a corner of the garden where the soil looked different, so he dug it up.
When he dug up the soil, he found a large quantity of photographs and photo albums that seemed to belong to the family.
Afterwards, Tatsuo investigated and discovered the horrific tragedy that had befallen the family there.
In the end, Mr.Tastuo did not elaborate on the matter.
