Unwanted Kin

In Japan, it’s common practice to honour loved ones who have crossed over every August during Obon (お盆). For those precious few days, it is said that deceased ancestors ‘return’ for a brief visit back in the world of the living. Perhaps to process grief, it eventually transitioned to welcoming the dead with extravagant outdoor festivals, daily banquets, and graveyard clean-ups. It’s a venerable tradition that’s both celebratory and melancholic.

Tending the home altars for the departed is a daily ritual, with offerings presented and incense burned, but Obon at Ryusuke’s family home was a more intimate affair.

His long-term girlfriend decided to join in this year, since their cross-cultural relationship has deepened, especially after the loss of Ryusuke’s mother a few years back. Anahita has always found ways to show up for her grieving boyfriend, and she even pushed back her scheduled trip back home to Gothenburg.

She has been assimilating into new countries and cultures that were not her own since birth. Where her family sought asylum was not a choice she was able to make, but coming to Japan to study was by her own will. Being with Ryusuke, with his good-naturedness, was also her choice. Anahita felt more like herself here than in Sweden or Iran.

“Oyyy-!! Yu Darvish!”

“D…Dad! I know you’re a baseball fan, but that’s a bit rude and mildly racist. That’s obviously not her name!”

“Haha, it’s really okay. Thank you all very much for coming to pick me up at the station. It really wasn’t necessary! I hate to be a burden. I was going to take a Taxi over…”

“Nonsense, Ana. Thank you for coming all the way out here to Shirakawaguchi. This is the least we could do. Besides, the whole family wanted to come see you.”

Between Ryusuke and his father stood the younger sister, who seemed to be uncomfortable in her own skin. She avoided eye contact, seemed distracted, and appeared hesitant about meeting new people. Three years had already passed since her mother died, but the young girl was most likely still processing the tremendous loss. Anahita understood how it must be triggering for Sachiko, with the underlying meaning of Obon and the void of growing up without a mother. 

Anahita initiated by inviting her and the rest of Ryusuke’s family members to take a selfie with her at the train platform.

“Hai, everyone- say cheese~!”

Photos were taken on a five-second timer and in burst mode. Everyone put on their superficially polite happy faces and whipped out the Japanese citizen’s iconic ‘peace’ signs. When Anahita checked the outcome, not only were their faces blurry, but everyone was giving a four-finger salute with palms facing forward in every shot. The young visitor contemplated bothering everyone for a retake, but wasn’t close enough to her boyfriend’s family to make such a presumptuous request. Maybe it was a regional thing? She decided to put her phone away.

Ryusuke’s family home was located deep in an agricultural community in Gifu Prefecture. Anahita was situated in the tatami guest room at the far end of the second floor. It had a balcony with a panoramic view of Shirakawa town, green rice fields, a temple, and its serpentine river that separated civilization from the lush forest beyond the riverbank.

In the corner closest to the balcony was an elegant Kamakura-style vanity mirror crafted from carved Judas tree and finished with a red-over-black lacquer. Anahita marveled at the attention to detail of each carved floral pattern around the mirror. They reminded her of her late father, who would passionately share every detail of artistry in Persian woodcarving that existed before the Sassanid kingdom. While doing so, Sachiko barged into the room from behind, vexingly closed the vanity mirror, and hastily placed a white drape over it.

“Anoo… If you don’t mind, this was my mother’s Sanmenkyo. It’s also bad luck to open any mirrors during Obon. Please refrain from touching it.”

There are unspoken rules in Japan that are expected to be adhered to; they differ by region, generation, and even each family home. Anahita felt terrible for her insensitive, intrusive acts of touching family heirlooms without approval. The guest apologized profusely, but Sachiko abruptly left without any acknowledgement. Around the same time, Ryusuke was about to enter Anahita’s room with a knock, but was nearly tackled by his little sister in her impetuous exit. He shook his head and chuckled awkwardly about the family drama on full display.

“I am so sorry she’s that way. She was so attached to her mother, so… She gets a bit territorial with the ways of this house. But… But, hey! No way you would have known, so please don’t take offense. For what it’s worth, Okasan loves that you are here.”

That same night, after indulging in some grilled local river fish for dinner, Anahita tried to help with the cleanup, but Sachiko firmly emphasized finishing the task by herself. The men indulged in a deep conversation about Japanese politics, fueled by Shochu. Without much else to do, Anahita decided to freshen up and retire early to her room. She didn’t realize how exhausted she was until she lay down on the futon.

The feverish dreams she would have were pure chaos, filled with violence and tragedy. She tried to wake up, and once she did, she would see herself looming over her dormant body. Then she would awaken again, only to be stared down by her doppelganger. It seemed like a never-ending vicious cycle. After dozens of attempts to wake up, she finally shot out of bed, covered in cold sweat, and hyperventilating in the caliginous guestroom.

“What was that? That was insane… I…I must be really stressing about trying to be accepted or someth…”

Her thought process was suddenly interrupted by the white drape on the vanity mirror, slowly sliding off to the tatami floor. Anahita was paralyzed in fear, as the mirrors creaked open on their own. Even in the dark room, she could make out multiple figures, swaying in the mirror’s reflection.

“Nonono… This is not real… It’s just another bad dream… I..I just have to wake up…” 

Terrified, Anahita cocooned herself inside the futon cover and tried to rationalize and ignore the nightmare happening in real time. As she prayed in her native tongue and in Japanese, the dragging footsteps that scritched across the tatami’s woven surface came closer and closer. Despite her futile efforts, someone, or something not human, proceeded to crawl in from the foot end of her futon, and the more that it slithered forward, Anahita lost her motor functions. 

There was tremendous weight that huddled on top of her. Whatever it was, it made the fabric unnaturally elongated and created an opening like peering into a dark cave that you shouldn’t have. From within, at a glacial pace, its abrasive, frigid hand crawled upwards in a rectilinear motion. It stopped right below her chest. The pale appendage twitched and blossomed into an open palm.

She could not move.

She could not scream.

She could not breathe.

She could not look away.

Only her eyes were able to follow this ungodly experience, which defied natural logic. Despite the darkness surrounding her, Anahita could recognize the phantom hand’s gesture: Three ivory-pale fingers that radiated like a trident. Then, without warning, it dissipated. The futon cover returned to its natural shape, resting on the contour of the frightened guest’s shivering body.

“What... Was that a horrible nightmare? Or was… Was it some paranormal event? Are the mirrors still open? Ugh…I… I can’t look…”

Needless to say, she did not sleep the rest of the night.

The next morning, though fatigued, Anahita joined the family for breakfast.

“Ohayo, Ana, you slept well… Uhhhh, wow… Was it my father’s snoring that kept you up? Haha. You have some serious dark circles.”

Ryusuke was oblivious to the night of terror Anahita endured. As much as she wanted to tell him everything, it just didn’t seem proper to do so in front of his family.

“Hey, I know! Let’s do something to cheer you up! Shirakawa village is known for the Obon festival. It will be fun! We will eat and dance...”

The residual trauma from the night before lingered, but the Natsu Matsuri festival in the center of the old town was refreshing. Anahita felt protected, being with her boyfriend, among the cheerful locals, and being in the vicinity of the sacred Sakyuryouta temple.

“Um, I have been wanting to say something… Not sure how to start but…” Anahita’s voice trailed off.

“I also have something that I wanted to discuss with you.” Ryusuke countered and swooped his girlfriend away from the festive crowd, beside the faded orange Torii temple gate.

“My Ana. Will you marry me?”

Of course, the answer would be yes, but she no longer felt it would be prudent to bring up the haunting experiences from the night before. Anahita forced herself to compartmentalize her concerns and embrace the monumental life event in front of them. In the spirit of commemoration, Ryusuke cheerfully handed his cellphone to a fellow villager passing by and asked them to take their photo. While putting up their customary ‘peace’ signs, they both lightly bumped their heads and giggled shyly as the shutter went off on the camera. After thanking the kind villager, the two lovebirds nonchalantly looked at their photo.

All seemed good, except their faces were distorted, and both of them peculiarly had the ‘peace’ signs, with their pale knuckles facing the camera. Ryusuke giggled and taunted Ana that she had made such a beginner-’ Gaijin’-mistake with the hand gestures.

“Hahaha, Yooooo- It’s very hip-hop; this style don’t you think?”

“No…No! I did it the regular way, with the palm facing forward! I swear! The other day too… Yeah! At the platform!… All of our hands turned weird then, too!”

Puzzled by the panicked reaction to his mockery, Ryusuke apologized and reassured Anahita that it was probably a mental glitch many make due to stress or…

“About that… Last nigh…” Anahita finally felt as if she had found the right moment to tell her soon-to-be life partner about the strange occurrences from last night. However, they chanced upon a group of relatives who lived nearby, and Ryusuke introduced Ana as his ‘Fiancée’. She put back her friendly mask on and did her best to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach.

That very night, the couple returned to the family home, and Ryusuke immediately announced their engagement to his family. The father brought out the one-litre sake bottle and insisted on celebrating.

“Yu-chan, come over to the home altar, and let us announce this wonderful news to Okasan and the ancestors!”

“Dad! Would you please stop projecting your Yu Darvish fanboyism to your future daughter-in-law, and actually call Ana by her name?”

Despite the terrible night and the strange photographic phenomenon from earlier, Anahita was heartened to be included in Ryusuke’s family. While having dinner in the living room with the family, Ana couldn’t help but repeatedly gaze upon her deceased mother-in-law’s altar photo with her gentle expression. She wished in her heart to ask Okasan permission to marry her son.

…Also, for her protection over both of them…

While the men continued to drink and debate baseball, Anahita and her future sister-in-law awkwardly cleaned the dishes in the kitchen. Without making eye contact, Sachiko congratulated the engagement, but also laid down the family law.

“Just so you know, we do Obon differently than what you may have studied,” Sachiko said dryly.

Perplexed, Anahita requested more clarity.

“On the last morning of Obon, that’s tomorrow. We will have breakfast with Okasan. She will be here.”

Before she could ask for further elaboration, Sachiko interjected with annoyance.

“It might seem bizarre to outsiders, but for our family, this is the only time we get to spend more time with her. So… Just don’t react to ‘anything’, okay? Just… Let us be.”

Sometimes, the best thing to comfort grieving hearts is to say nothing and nod in acknowledgement.

In Anahita’s birth culture, the process of death and mourning is as complex as in Japan. From ritual washing of the deceased body and placing them towards Mecca before burying them. Memorial gatherings would last for months, and when guests arrived at a family home, photos of the deceased were presented and spoken about in the present tense, as if they were still ‘around’. She is painfully aware of how to cope with loss.

That night, to her relief, Ryusuke was allowed to sleep in the same guest room along with Anahita. He was already unfolding two futons on the tatami floor by the time she freshened herself up.

“Hey, no funny stuff. It won’t be proper.” She said so, eyeing her fiancé, but while facing the draped heirloom vanity mirror.

“Oh, of course. Don’t worry. I just thought we could get up early together tomorrow. Okasan is coming for breakfast, so all hands on deck with the Obon feast. Good night!”

“Um…Okay. Oyasumi...”

The clunky auto-rotating neck of the electric fan sharply clicked every half-turn, making Anahita flinch every time. Then there were the constant muffled conversations and the strange sounds of furniture being shifted around in the kitchen below, which were so distracting. What was father-in-law or Sachiko doing at this hour? More importantly, what did she, and also Ryusuke, mean by ‘Okasan is coming for breakfast’?

“…She’s dead… That’s impossible…”

Anahita didn’t mean to ponder out loud, but as she did, the distracting sounds from below ceased on cue. The bride-to-be suddenly had chills tingling down her spine. She immediately feared she had offended whatever restless entities loomed in the after-hours. Anahita retreated into her fiancé’s futon for protection. As if he was expecting her, Ryusuke silently embraced his shivering Ana. Huddled together, Anahita was eventually able to rest for the night.

The next morning, Anahita woke to an empty futon. The chopping sounds and jovial conversations down in the kitchen were already in full swing. Feeling tardy, she quickly got herself ready and went downstairs to join in on the family tradition.

Ana did not want to be left out.

Once she arrived in the kitchen, Ryusuke and the family were already seated at the dining table and were all smiles. Even Sachiko was giddy with anticipation. As Anahita situated herself, a doorbell rang.

“She’s here! She’s here!”

“Okaeri- Okasan! Come in! Come in!”

Though puzzled by this family ritual, Anahita empathetically went along with the theatrics the best she could. It was the way Ryusuke’s family dealt with Obon season. However, there was no doubt someone was sliding the front door open, and creaky footsteps on the wood floors lugged from the foyer to the hallway. The foot dragged and inched closer to the kitchen entrance, then it stopped.

“Ana, would you get the sliding door behind you for Okasan?”

There was no cast of a shadow behind the glass door.

Every cell in her body urged her not to. Something behind that door was not of this world. Yet, what kind of a fiancée would she be if she didn’t honor the family’s matriarch?

“It’s fine, I got it. Welcome home, Okasan!”

Sachiko couldn’t allow the non-family member’s indecisiveness to scare off her mother. The dedicated daughter proactively slid the door wide open, grinning from ear to ear.

The entire family cheered and clapped. As she was returning to her seat alone, Sachiko’s ponytail was callously yanked by an invisible force, as if to claim dominance. Anahita couldn’t help herself and gasped out loud. Her future sister-in-law glared back before returning to being all smiles.

The empty chair next to Ana slowly dragged itself back, then the chopsticks that were stuck upright in the bowl of rice dropped to the floor one by one. Then pieces of Yam from the mountain vegetable stew began to be flicked off from the bowl, one by one. Everyone else laughed and cheered, while Anahita froze in terror.

“Ha… Haha! Okasan is such a prankster this year! Let the Yams roll!”

As the family credulously mimicked tossing the round yams onto the floor, Ana shivered with raw nerves. She finally gathered the courage to face who, or what, she was sitting next to.

There was nobody there. Only a faint outline of a person in a combination of thin fog and fading shadow. It swayed periodically like a broken metronome.

Gradually, the hand of the silhouette figure in the empty chair became clearer to see. It slowly raised one fist. It pointed its index finger out perilously towards Anahita. Its jittering wrist lifted, cracked, and creaked in the wrong direction, all while it continued to extend its finger upwards.

Anahita knew she shouldn’t have, but she instinctively had to look in the direction it insistently pointed.

She saw lifeless, dark Mauve feet, dangling…

She gazed into the contorted face that remorsefully gawked down at her loved ones…

She was painfully familiar…

Her terror and shock forced her to recoil out of her chair. The family members were stunned by Anahita’s sudden jolt.

“It…It…Ititit..It’s not her. It’s not her. It’s not her! IT’S NOT HER!!”

Trying ineptly to calm his fiancée, Ryusuke chuckled nervously.

“Ana… Hey. Breathe. Yes, this might all be a bit obscene, but you have to relax. She…”

“The one sitting there is not Okasan! She hangs right above it! Don’t you all see it?”

With resigned acceptance, the family looked at one another, then at Anahita.

“Tell us, then… Who is sitting next to you in our kitchen?”

Of course, Anahita did not want to fathom such a ghastly thought.

Before long, it whispered into her ear.

…Four…

…Three…

…Two…

…One…

…You…

…Had a…

…Head...Start…