A long time ago, I heard this story from a colleague at work in a coffee shop.
Mr. K (my colleague) worked at a restaurant in Susukino when he was young.
One day after his early shift, he dropped by a bar after work with a senior co-worker who was also on the early shift.
Both Mr. K and his senior liked to drink, so they decided to leave the bar before the sun went down and have a real drink at his house.
The senior’s apartment was located along the Sosegawa River, which was a short walk from Susukino, so we decided to go there.
The two of us decided to walk along the river.
As the apartment approached and the area became quieter away from the downtown area, they heard footsteps behind them.
When they turned around, they saw a boy wearing a baseball cap walking behind them.
The boy was walking silently with a downcast look on his face.
Wondering what was going on since it was time to go, they started walking again toward their apartment.
The boy also followed them.
Mr. K said that by that time, they both already knew intuitively that the boy walking behind them was not alive.
He said that although they had no particular proof, the air around them was already strange.
They both looked at each other and stopped on the spot because they thought that if they left him alone, he would follow them to the apartment.
The boy behind us also stopped.
Mr. K said there were no people around unnaturally, just the three of us on the street at night.
Mr. K said a couple of words to the boy, but he just stood there with his head down.
“I thought to myself, Well, they’re not human anyway, so I don’t have to be shy. I had been drinking, too,” Mr. K said.
Mr. K took off the boy’s baseball cap.
Under the baseball cap was a face without eyeballs.
Anyway, I ran away. I was so surprised.”
Mr. K answered.
I asked him what the boy looked like.
“It’s just like a living person. I can touch them and know they are there.
There is a unique presence, but I can’t say it in words.”
The answer came back.
Later that day.
I happened to run into a friend from high school, and we went to a bar together and bit into some yakitori, and somehow we got into a ghost story.
“I have a special story to tell you, I saw this story last year,” he said, and I listened to it.
“I heard footsteps behind me,” he said.
I asked him, “Is that the kid in the baseball cap?” I asked him.
He replied, “No, it was a girl in a kindergarten uniform. She was crying.”
I said, “Did you see his face when you were out in the middle of nowhere? What did you see on his face?”
“Bloody.”
After hearing Mr. K’s story, I heard three more stories about the same place and the same situation.
The situation was almost the same in each case, but what emerged was different.
Mr. K was a boy in a baseball cap, his friend was a kindergartener, and the other case was a girl in elementary school.
In each case, two men were said to be looking at a child who was seriously injured with bloodshed.
When I dug up the dirt in the neighborhood, I found several dead children and the culprits were two men.
I keep checking the local paper every time I remember, wondering if that will happen someday.
