Tokyo Day 13: Asakusa (Again) & Komine Pass

I got up early enough to make a start on packing my suitcase. I got the majority of it put away, and was really gutted the whole time. I don’t want to leave Tokyo – there’s still so much I want to see and do! I wish I could take my lovely bed and the entire bathroom home with me too.

Caz was feeling perkier today, which is great because she was able to go to Shizu-Kokoro and experience the magic herself. Before I did anything else, I dropped her off and said hello to Soka. Then I went for a wander around Asakusa again – it’s really such a fab area. I saw three street cleaners who were dressed up as ninjas and went running and flipping around the streets as they cleaned. Sometimes they hid behind cars and walls, in stealth mode. It was so cool! I had fun watching them for a while.

As I walked around, I kept my eyes peeled for more lovely artwork and just soaked up the atmosphere. It was busy but still relaxing and cheerful. I saw someone in a Charizard onesie, holding an actual owl. From what I can gather from the sign they had, they were advertising some sort of owl café. It was so random that it made me laugh.

There was an antique shop that I wanted to check out. It took me forever to find – it’s tucked down a tiny alleyway and you can easily walk right past. There’s an old gramophone at the entrance of the alleyway, which helped a little bit once I slowed down and actually used my eyes for minute.

The shop is called Hotarudo, and it’s absolutely darling. Inside, old-timey jazz music plays on a gramophone and the place is dim and quiet. It’s absolutely stacked with all kinds of antiques from old clothes and bags, to old gadgets, trinkets and ornaments. There were several beautiful things that I was tempted by, but the price was a little too out of budget. It’s a shame, because I would love to own some Japanese antiques. If you like old things, definitely go and check Hotarudo out. I spent ages in there and really enjoyed myself despite not buying anything.

When I returned to Shizu-Kokoro, the sliding door had been left open and Caz and Soka sat inside, chatting away. It was really nice to see Caz so happy and at ease, and I immediately knew she was as zen as I’d been yesterday. We had a little talk with Soka before bidding her farewell. She’d recommended a little food place just up the road that served mostly okonomiyaki. It’s called Sometaro and it’s a little old Japanese-style building. Before we even set foot in there, we could tell it was going to be a really local, authentic place, and we were immediately excited. The fact that Soka often visits for lunch made us trust the place more – our tea sensei can never be wrong!

We stepped inside and were immediately in love. You come in to a traditional Genkan, which is a small stone-floored entryway, and wait to be invited in properly. Before you enter any further, you must remove your shoes so as not to damage the main floor. The step up from the Genkan was almost knee-height on me so it was quite a lunge to get up there. Utilising our tatami-walking skills taught by Soka, we walked carefully over to an empty table in the corner.

The tables were all low with black grill plates (Teppan) set into them, and you sat on the floor - there were cushions provided to save your knees. We had a good look around once we’d sat down. Apart from us, there were only a few groups of people and most of them looked local. It was nice and quiet, and people were really chilled out.

We were soon approached and handed menus to peruse. Both of us decided we wanted a Ramune soda, but also thought to order some sake as we haven’t had any yet! The bottles we got had a surprising amount of wine in them, and it’s strong (and delicious).

The word ‘okonomiyaki’ translates roughly to ‘cooked as you like’ and like any pancake, you can throw pretty much any ingredients into them. I decided on the ‘Mochiten’, which has rice cake, cheese, corn, and dried seaweed. Caz opted for ‘Gyuuten’ – cabbage, egg, sliced beef, and minced meat. The batter and chosen ingredients come in a small bowl, and you cook the okonomiyaki yourself. There were instructions in English on the menu, so we started ourselves off.

First, you tip the contents of the bowl onto the grill in one big blob and let it sit and sizzle for a couple of minutes. Then you take the enormous spatulas and flip the pancake, letting the other side cook for another couple of minutes. I had no idea that using two spatulas was far easier, but I managed to flip mine perfectly with just one! I really impressed myself as I’m not the most dextrous person. Caz’s flip wasn’t so perfect (I blamed the bulky meat), which got us into a laughing fit. A woman who worked there floated over to see how we were doing and was so helpful with Caz’s nightmare.

Once the pancake is cooked, you use a spatula to cut it into small segments that are able to be picked up with chopsticks. Toppings are then added – at Sometaro we had the special okonomiyaki sauce (similar to Worcestershire but thicker), seaweed flakes (aonori), Japanese mayonnaise (seriously, Kewpie is the nicest mayo I’ve ever had), and a little dash of soy sauce which sizzled furiously on the Teppan.

Okonomiyaki is absolutely delicious. We both really enjoyed it, and took our time savouring each bite-sized piece. Half the fun of it is cooking at the table, but the food is so enjoyable to eat too. I’m not a huge fan of egg-flavoured things - I’m here to tell you that these pancakes don’t taste overwhelmingly eggy. So please don’t worry about that if it’s one of your concerns, too.

The sake had gone right through me at this point so I excused myself to the loo, where I was confronted with a squat toilet (washiki). There was a pair of slippers to wear in the bathroom and I spent a long time staring at the instructions on how to use the toilet. I have really rubbish knees and cannot hold a squat for very long; I ended up clinging to the sink in front of me to keep my balance, so that I didn’t fall in. It was an interesting and authentic experience and I’m glad I did it, even despite my initial terror.

I had to leave Caz at Sometaro and find a cash machine as I hadn’t noticed the signs saying the restaurant was cash only. I felt a bit tipsy as I got outside and the cool air hit me, and drifted along the streets feeling very content and silly. I also saw this panda bus, which didn’t help:

After I’d toddled back to the restaurant and we settled our bill, we discussed what to do next. There is a place we’d really wanted to see during the trip. We had previously planned to go after visiting Doryo-do, but it was too dark and the journey was too long. We decided that we simply couldn’t miss it, and set off on the almost two-hour trek to Komine Pass.

I’ll stop here and explain a bit about Komine Pass, another dark tourism site that we were interested in seeing. Back in the late 80s, the so-called ‘Otaku Killer’ murdered four little girls under the age of 10. Their names were Mari Konno, Masami Yoshizawa, Erika Namba, and Ayako Nomoto. I’m not going to go into all of the terrible details, but Murderpedia has a really in-depth page about the crimes if you want to read up on it. I will warn you that this case involves mutilation, cannibalism, and taunting of the victims’ family – it’s truly horrific. The killer, whose name I refuse to use, was apprehended and executed for his crimes.

Komine Pass was a former road that tunnelled through and snaked around the mountains at the very, very edge of Tokyo in Hachioji. A new, more modern road, was built through the mountain and the Pass became a popular hiking trail. It’s less popular since the murders, as the ‘Otaku Killer’ is known to have murdered and dumped two of his victims in the tunnel there. It’s said to be the most haunted tunnel in Japan, so we had to go and see it for ourselves.

To get there, we walked from Sometaro to Tawaramachi station and took the Ginza line to Kanda station. From there, we took the commuter rapid Chūō line to Tachikawa. The Ōme line (which became the Itsukaichi line mid-journey) took us the rest of the way to Musashi-Itsukaichi station. It was a long trip. As we got further from the centre, less and less tourists were on the train until it was just us and locals. We garnered some interested looks from people, as we have before when we’ve ventured further out of the city centre. We rolled into Musashi-Itsukaichi as the sun was setting beyond the mountains.

During the last leg of our trip, we had an encounter with the cutest old man in the world. He was sitting opposite Caz, and I was standing up between them. He looked like he’d just finished work – dressed nicely, with a big black coat and a briefcase. I would put his age at around mid-seventies. As we’d been flying by the suburbs, I was pointing out of the window at things and Caz and I were enthusing about how nice it all was. We were especially excited when the mountains came into view. The sun was coming down and the sky was pink.

I noticed the man was turning theatrically to peer out of the window and then looking back towards us for a while, and sensed that he was wanting to say something. Maybe he was weighing up whether it would be rude to talk to us, or maybe he was feeling nervous about it. I don’t know, but eventually he turned to us, gestured at the window behind him, and said, “Beautiful.” We both nodded and agreed with him. I managed to say “Utsukushī” which means ‘it’s beautiful’, and he was surprised and thrilled that I knew some Japanese. It made him laugh, and we all laughed a bit together. Then he looked out of the window again and remarked, “Lovely sunset.” before turning to smile at us. It was such a nice moment, and I will always treasure it.

When we got to his stop, the man stood up and bowed his head to us. We bowed back and watched him disembark. Once he was on the platform, he turned back and waved at us with a big smile on his face! We waved back and couldn’t stop grinning – my heart feels full just remembering this. I hope he had a wonderful evening.

The station was small and fairly open-air, but it had these beautiful stained-glass windows.

As the light was fading fast, we decided to grab a taxi out to the pass itself. There was one idling outside of the station so we went over and asked for a ride to ‘Komine Park’, which is slightly down the road from where we wanted to go. I wasn’t silly enough to make our ghoulish intentions crystal clear, but I’m sure the driver knew what was up. He said things like “…But it’s getting dark.” and “Won’t you be scare?” several times, like the harbinger character in a horror film. And like stupid white people in a horror film we bullshitted that we just fancied a lovely walk near the mountains and wanted to see a quieter place away from the city and that we’d be fiiiiiiine. Seriously, we spend all of our time yelling at people in horror films for making Really Stupid Decisions, and yet here we were doing the same thing. He mentioned that about a year ago, some girls had asked him to go to the same place and added thoughtfully, “Maybe they were looking for the same thing you are.” He was far too polite to confront us, but clearly knew what we were up to.

As we pulled up to a road near the park’s visitor centre, the driver said, “The park is closed.” It wasn’t, but I think this was his last ditch effort to stop us. He suggested that we stop by the visitor centre before our walk, and we agreed in the hopes that he’d worry less. Before we got out of the car, he printed off a receipt with his phone number on it and told us to call him if we needed a taxi. Then he pointed out the bus stop across the road and informed us that catching a bus from there would take us right back to the station. It was really kind of him to make sure we knew where we were going. Having stalled as much as he could, he drove off and we felt sort of bad for putting him in that position. I hoped that he wouldn’t spend his evening fretting about us!

We had almost completely lost the light by the time we walked to the old road – the sky was a darkening blue and the sun had gone down completely. There was a chain strung across the road to stop cars from coming down it, but pedestrians can still enter. As we walked, the mountain rose steeply up to our right, covered in dense trees. Caz asked me what was rustling around up there and I said, “Just some critters.” Which is the sensible answer, but I was paranoid that it was ghosts or monsters, of course.

After a short walk, we came to a large factory or power plant-looking structure which hummed quietly. There were lots of lights around it, which was a momentary relief. From there, we could see lit-up houses and hear voices and laughter from the residential streets. This was the last little glimpse of other humans we had before going further along the Pass. As soon as we passed a gate to stop vehicles and rounded the mountain a bit more, the noise and light was just gone.

There were lots of sharp turns that made the road behind you disappear behind the mountain. The road itself is becoming overgrown with grass and creeping plants. The only really clear part was the middle with the dividing lines still visible. On one side the mountain rose higher still, covered in the stands of trees I mentioned earlier. On the other, a rusted old crash barrier was the only thing that separated us from a sheer, pitch-black drop. Looking over the edge was a huge mistake, it just looked like a void. Our phone torches barely lit the way in front of us, and taking photos with flash didn’t do much better. It was so, so dark and cold up there. The further we walked, the more we slowed down. A great blanket of dread hung on us and our nerves were on a hair-trigger.

Here is a terrible photo of the path that I tried in vain to brighten up. The sky looks really light, but it wasn’t.

I was used to the ambient noises of us walking and the sounds of the trees, but a new noise had suddenly started. It sounded like soft footfalls, coming from behind us like someone was trying their best to creep up. Like they didn’t want me to hear. I spun around so quickly that I don’t even remember doing it, and of course nothing was there. My heart was pounding and I felt like I couldn’t move for a moment – I wanted to scramble but there was nowhere to run. Caz asked me what was wrong, and I told her that the Pikachu coin purse that was hanging from her backpack had startled me with its jingling. I couldn’t bring myself to say aloud what I thought I’d heard, not there. I decided to share that later, when we were back in the light.

We stopped walking at one point and had a discussion about whether we wanted to proceed, the feelings of fear had gotten that bad. Instead, we talked ourselves up and swore at ourselves and told ourselves that we were so close now, that we had to see this through. So we continued, shuffling even slower and clutching each other’s hand. I was afraid that, any minute, the torch would illuminate something that shouldn’t be there. I don’t think I’ve ever been that viscerally frightened in my life. It was like Doryo-do but heightened by the pitch black. Something was sick there.

Here’s one of the photos Caz took of the beginning of the road. She has the better phone and it still couldn’t do much in that darkness. I’m putting it here to give you some idea of the atmosphere.

Caz almost gave me a heart attack when she suddenly said, “What is that?” She was pointing to a reflection of our torchlight, which we soon realised was bouncing off of a dusty old road mirror. I calmly asked her to never do that to me again before we moved on. We were literally around the corner from the tunnel itself when we stopped once more. This time we couldn’t bring ourselves to start moving again. Every single cell in my body wanted to leave, and my muscles felt tense and primed, ready to start running away. I think if we’d seen the tunnel itself we might’ve lost our heads completely. So we made the decision to leave. I’ve never been scared enough to have to leave a place before, and I have never felt the way I felt up there tonight.

Again, I’m willing to concede that knowing the history of what happened there might have made us more spooked. So did deliberately making it extra spooky by going on a dark winter evening. But I’m not easily rattled, and Komine Pass rattled me.

We got back to the power station where there were lights and sat down. We had forced ourselves to walk calmly away, back along the dark path and out of the gate. It was exhausting trying to keep ourselves in check when we felt so frightened. Once we were back in the light and sitting down, the abject terror started to melt away and all I could feel was a deep sadness. The place was evil, and terrible things had happened there, but we both expressed feeling melancholy.

We stayed there for a while and said some words for Misami and Mari, the two victims who had been left there. We told them that people still know their names and care about them, and we told them we were sorry that that had to happen to them. Before we left, we said, “Yasuraka ni nemuru.” which means ‘rest in peace’. You can pooh-pooh this if you like, but Caz is a Christian and I have always been very spiritual, and we like to believe we got through to those poor girls.

I was lost in thought as we walked out of the last part of the road. So much so that I walked right into the chain strung across the road. It was at knee height and caught me on my worse knee, so it really hurt. I now have a chain-shaped bruise across my knee like I’ve been hit with one. It was quite funny, though.

This is the new tunnel. Behind the corrugated fence on the left is the entrance to Komine Pass.

Once we were back on the main road, I told Caz the truth about the footsteps I’d heard. She was freaked out, but my blood went cold when she said she’d felt a tug on her bag, like somebody had gently pulled the Pikachu purse hanging from it. She said it was scary but hadn’t felt malicious at all, whereas I was of the opinion the footsteps were definitely not playful or friendly. I don’t know what to make of it, but I’m still getting chills remembering this and writing it down. We’ve decided that next time we’re in Japan, we will visit Komine Pass during the day, with plenty of light. Maybe then we’ll actually make it to the tunnel, and we can gauge how much of our fear response was from the cold and dark. It is one of the more stupid things we’ve done in our lives.

We caught the bus from the stop across the street and it was a relief to be in a warm, brightly-lit vehicle. It was quite a drive back to the train station so we were able to warm up and relax a bit before having to brave the night again. Once we got to the train station, we saw a taxi outside and wondered if it could be our driver from earlier. It was! I approached the window to say hi and he was so pleased to see us. He asked how our walk had gone, and if it was scary. I said, “Um, a bit… it was cold!” and he agreed that it was a chilly night. He asked us what our plans were now, and was really surprised that we had to get all the way back to Ueno. I don’t think he realised how far we’d actually come. We bid him a warm farewell and thanked him again for his help earlier, and he waved us off with a big smile. I’m so glad we got to reconnect with him, and he knows we made it back safely.

I really needed a snack and we were both thirsty, so we popped across the road to 7-11. As we walked in, the girls behind the counter greeted us dutifully then did a huge double take when they realised we are not at all Japanese. It was really funny – I imagine they don’t get too many foreigners out there, so it must have been really weird for them. When I checked out my items, the girl who served me went out of her way to thank me in English which was really nice. I hope we made their shift a bit more interesting.

I honestly can’t remember which station I found this train set in, but it’s so cute!

Back in the city centre, we called a taxi to take us to our dinner destination in Shibuya as it was still cold. We had made the hour and a half long journey from Musashi-Itsukaichi to Shinjuku and wanted to be off the subway for a while. Annoyingly, the top button on my shirt popped off in the taxi and I lost it forever. This was a pain because the top itself is low-cut even with the top button, so I was now essentially standing there with my whole bra out. Luckily, I had a cardigan with me and had to awkwardly button it in a way that kept my shirt together. Once we’d fixed it up, it looked ok and then the situation became hilarious.

We were having dinner at a place called Gyoza Lou. We had read recommendations about it on so many travel sites and blogs, but it still seems like a really local haunt. Every other customer was Japanese, and a lot of them looked like they’d come straight from work to get some food. It was lively and buzzing, people were really relaxed and enjoying themselves. It’s not a huge place, and the kitchen is right there in the middle so you can see everything going on. We sat up at the bar surrounding the kitchen and soaked up the vibe as we waited to be served.

The menu is ridiculously simple. There’s a small selection of drinks and then gyoza. You can opt for steamed or fried, and that’s it. No frills, no pretension, just amazing and authentic gyoza. It’s also really cheap – you can get six gyoza for 290¥ (which is like £2)! We had two rounds each but honestly, I could’ve eaten until I died. No additions or sides were needed, the gyoza was absolutely fantastic and tasty. We probably would’ve had more, but we were really tired from travelling out to Hachioji and wanted to get back to the hotel at a reasonable time to finish packing and get some sleep. I will definitely go back next time I'm in Tokyo!

It’s our last night here in Japan, and we’re feeling a bit miserable. We never want to leave, and we’re also feeling wary about the news of potentially having to be quarantined or isolating at home when we get back, depending on coronavirus screenings. This thing is getting a bit serious, it seems.

Tokyo Day 9: Sugamo & Dark Tourism

We were really hungry when we got up this morning, so popped to Family Mart to find sustenance. I got one of my favourite cartons of strawberry milk and a melon pan with whipped cream inside. I’m aware I’ve been eating like an unsupervised child but it’s all so delicious and exciting! Bolstered by our on-the-go breakfast, we headed over to the train station for our first journey of the day.

We had to get the Oedo Line from Shin-Okachimachi station. On the platform, a ‘bing-bong’ sound happened, which I unconsciously copied. Then a nearby child also copied the sound! It was so funny and cute.

I have to stop here to talk about the kids we’ve seen on the trains. They are so ridiculously well behaved, I can’t believe it. We see groups of schoolkids of all ages, travelling on their own in the big city. They’re always quiet and respectful, which was a culture shock for us. There’s often kids just reading manga or going over their homework, and talking quietly with their friends. Their uniforms are immaculate and so smart. My favourite was a gaggle of young boys who came onto the train pushing each other and horsing around – as soon as they were in their seats, they settled down and were so good for the whole journey. Amazing!

During our train ride (we had to change at Kasuga station to get the Mita Line to Sugamo), I also noticed that my Japanese reading and understanding is already improving. In the short time I’ve been here, I find myself picking up more snippets of conversation, or being able to understand signs without referring to the English parts.

Shinshōji Temple, which sits at the beginning of the shopping street.

Sugamo has a shopping street popular with the older generations, earning it the nickname ‘Granny’s Harajuku’. We didn’t think we’d find much of interest in the shops, but that turned out to be wrong when we walked by a shop called Neko Masshigura. My rough (and amateur) translation of this is ‘full-speed cat’. It was a shop absolutely packed with cat-themed products. It had tableware, hair accessories, masks, hats, phone charms, plush toys, and so much more. If you love cats, I’d fully recommend taking a look.

We looked around for ages because the products were so cute. Caz became enamoured with a white fluffy cat hat with attached scarf/gloves. The girl working in the shop told her to try it on and she and I cooed away at how sweet it looked. She said something about a discount, which I assumed was because Caz had grabbed the display model. But no. The girl got a new, bagged hat to give to Caz when she paid and applied a discount anyway! I have no idea why, but it was so nice of her to do. Caz also found a couple of gifts in the shop for her mum and sister, so it was a successful trip. I had to sternly talk myself out of getting a Kitsune mask because it would have gotten crushed or damaged in my luggage.

Like pretty much everything in Japan, Sugamo has its own mascot: a white duck named Sugamon. You can see illustrations of him everywhere in Sugamo Jizodori on banners, chalkboards and posters. There’s also a cute theme tune that plays over a speaker system. Sugamon was actually the reason we wanted to visit this area (along with wanting to see cute old people shopping). I’d read that there is a gigantic, fluffy duck butt that you pet for good luck and decided we had to visit it. I went confidently to where it had been on Google Maps, only to find an empty space and nearby construction.

Undeterred, I went to an information booth I’d spotted near the temple. An older lady perched inside, surrounded by Sugamon plush toys and various leaflets. I decided to make it easy for both of us and pointed toward the construction before saying, “…Duck butt?” The lady seized one of the plush toys and held it up, then patted her own behind saying, “Hai?” I was over the moon that my terrible communication had worked and nodded enthusiastically. We both had a good giggle about it and she produced a map of the shopping street.

She effectively used her limited English to explain that the big duck butt was currently in storage, to protect it from the construction going on, but that there was a smaller butt that we could visit in one of the side streets. She drew some circles and lines on the map to help me out and I thanked her profusely for saving the day.

We found the corner at Tully’s Coffee that the information lady had circled, but couldn’t see a duck butt from the main street. I scouted ahead because I’m the faster walker. As I rounded the corner, I spotted it immediately, sticking out from a wall. I managed to get back to Caz through my tears of laughter and we quickly went to visit.

What can I say? It was a big, fluffy duck butt complete with a little tail. Above it was a sign that read ‘Sugamon no Oshiri’, which essentially says ‘Sugamon’s ass’. We were thrilled, and immediately began to pet the fur as is customary. A lot of locals walked by us as we were doing this and they all smiled at us and joined in with our excitement. It was so good, and we laughed so much.

Satisfied that we’d earned some good luck, we went back to the Tully’s Coffee to have something caffeinated to keep us going. I was immediately drawn in by the special Valentine’s Day ruby chocolate mocha. It had whipped cream and little sprinkles and the mocha was pink from the ruby chocolate. It was so cute. What was also cute was seeing a small child in there with her dad, working on some homework. She was wheedling at him about it, but begrudgingly getting it done. It was another snapshot of normal life that I’ll cherish.

Our next spot was out in Setagaya again, and we had to take two trains and a local bus to get there. As we were walking to the bus stop, we happened upon a LIFE supermarket. I popped in to have a look around, because I have a thing about foreign supermarkets. The temptation to buy so many things was high. We also passed a nursery that had what appeared to be a post chute outside. At this point, we lost our minds and wondered if it was in fact a child chute. Parents line up in a certain order and catch their kids as they come shooting out of the hatch. This got us into a laughing fit for some time at the bus stop, earning us some nice (though slightly bewildered) smiles from people around us.

The bus ride was really lovely. It was so nice to look out at the more suburban area and watch people going about their daily lives. I love seeing the ‘normality’ of a city – people getting their weekly shopping, riding their bikes to appointments, walking their kids to school. I don’t know why it pleases me so much.

An amazing choice of milk in the LIFE supermarket.

This is the beginning of our ‘dark tourism’ part of the day. Caz and I both have a huge interest in true crime, ghosts, abandoned/haunted places, and things like that. We have the utmost respect for these places, their history, and the people involved. We never touch anything or remove anything from anywhere, but we like to see these places to satisfy our own morbid curiosity. As ghoulish as it may seem to some people, we truly mean no harm in visiting.

Having said that, our next stop was Soshigaya Park. It’s a normal park with green space, a play park and a skate park. Sitting in the middle of it, though, is a single house. It used to be one of a row of houses, but the rest have since been demolished. The house is surrounded by fencing and blue tarps and no one is allowed to enter, except for police officials. This is where the Setagaya murders happened in 2000. A family of four was murdered by an unknown assailant who crept into their house, killing them one by one. He then spent time in their home eating, napping and using their computer. Tonnes of evidence was left behind, but the culprit was never found. There have been more recent talks about demolition, as the house is now becoming structurally unsafe, but it still stands as the family understandably don’t want to knock it down until the culprit is found and punished.

Today was incredibly sunny and pleasantly warm. All around us families relaxed and played together, in the shade of this crumbling house. We sat across the road at the skate park to look at it for a while. It was a really sad-feeling place, and I felt heavy looking at it and thinking of the horror that had happened there. I imagine you’d feel the same sort of way at Auschwitz or somewhere similar. The juxtaposition of the dark, dead house and the beautiful day made it even more stark and shocking to us. There was a policeman outside on guard, and my heart went out to him because it must have been so boring to be there all day. I imagine the guard is there to dissuade urban explorers and ghouls from trying to break in.

We had lunch in the skate park because the weather really was fab. I’d gone for a chicken rice ball this time, and it was round as opposed to the ‘traditional’ triangular onigiri shape. Caz had one of her favourite egg sandwiches, and we both had some crisps to snack on too. We stayed there in the sun people-watching for a good long time. There were so many folk around walking their dogs and just enjoying the day. We got lots of smiles and nods from people who went by as, again, we stuck out quite a lot in this suburban area.

Here's a photo of food to hopefully cheer us up a bit.

We got the bus back to the stop near the LIFE store, and then had a journey of about an hour and twenty minutes out to the Hachioji area. We got on the Keiō Line at Chitose-Karasuyama station to Kitano station. Then we took the number 65 bus out to Sakaue, and our destination was a five or six minute walk from there, through pretty suburban streets.

We were heading to the ruins of Doryo-do, a temple established in 1874 with a tragic history. In 1963, an old caretaker was murdered on the site by a robber, causing the closure of the site. In 1973, the body of a murdered college student was discovered dumped on the temple grounds. In 1983, the temple was burned down by an arsonist, leaving only the stone foundations. If you want to know more information about Doryo-do’s history and the murders, I recommend reading this blog post from 2015 about it. I got a fair amount of my background information from it when I researched for this post. We wanted to visit because there are a lot of ghost stories surrounding it, including apparitions and ghostly crying. It appealed to our inner spooky children, browsing the Shadowlands ghost website back in the late 90s-early 00s.

The temple sits upon a hill, in the woods of Kitanodaidonoshita Park, which is reached by climbing about eighty steps. Even though it’s surrounded by a residential area, it feels a lot more isolated. The stairs were a challenge, and I’m exhausted from climbing them, but the view was worth the exertion. The sun was just beginning to set and everything was pink and gold.

We saw several people up there, it seems to be quite a popular park. We saw an old man and his grandson coming back from a walk in the woods, a couple of people running up and down the stairs to work out, and a man photographing the sunset and wildlife. It was really tranquil and we all silently nodded to each other in greeting. The whole time we were at the actual temple site, though, no one was there. I imagine people who aren’t ghouls avoid it when it’s getting dark.

I nominated myself to scout ahead as I usually do while Caz rehydrated and took in the view. Sushi was doing his job well and I had full WiFi signal, so I checked where the temple was on the map as I walked along the path. It appeared to be on my left so, when I spotted a break in the trees and a small track, I figured that was where I had to go. Thus ensued a scramble up a steep incline, sometimes having to grab tufts of grass or tree roots, occasionally having to use my hands and feet like some kind of cryptid. It turns out I just like making my life more difficult, as there were stairs up to the temple further along the main path.

I hauled myself up the last part of the hill, using a tree root as leverage, and the first thing I laid eyes on was a gravestone. It was a small one, set away from everything else in the site, with yellow flowers laid at its base. I have no idea who or what the grave was for, but I stopped there for a moment anyway to pay respects.

Directly in front of me as I emerged from the trees was what’s left of the temple. The stone foundations are fenced off and I didn’t go inside. First rule of these sorts of places: respect the area.

I felt very alone up there, and had a distinct feeling of being watched. I fully acknowledge that knowing some of the history might have influenced the way I felt there, but it was eerie nonetheless. I believe that places do hold energy and memories, especially if something particularly bad or violent happened there. Doryo-do felt ominous, but also sad. It was a balmy evening but I felt unusually cold.

When I’d had a cursory look around, I approached the stairs. To the left was a lovely stone path sloping down, and I decided to take that. For some reason I found myself speeding up, almost running down the slope. I felt like I was suddenly being followed and it freaked me out.

A normal person would at this point go back to their friend. I was going to, but a couple of paths caught my eye. One led deeper into the woods and I decided against going down there – not because of ghosts, but because the light was fading and I didn’t want to get lost. Instead, I started walking on the other path which followed the base of the hill that the temple sits on. It was fenced-in, but the path was natural and unpaved.

I love woodland paths, and was thoroughly enjoying this one until I came upon a broken section of fence. I stopped to snap a photo, took a few more steps, and couldn’t go any further. It was like I was frozen, every single cell in my body screaming at me to turn back. It was an entirely primal lizard-brain reaction that I’ve never experience before in my life. Despite my curiosity about where the path led, I didn’t question the alien feeling and walked back the way I came, as calmly as I could.

Taking the main path (known as the ‘Silk Road’) back to the beginning.

When I got back to Caz, I was deliberately vague about everything I’d felt up at the temple because I wanted her to experience it organically. As we walked back toward the temple stairs, I showed her the tiny path in the trees that I’d climbed up. She laughed at my idiocy, comparing my folly to her method in video games of just climbing everything to explore instead of using paths like a normal person.

Up at the temple, we both got very quiet. Caz walked around the site to take it all in, as I drifted aimlessly around. I kept thinking about my encounter on the path below and wondering what had caused my brain to flip out like it had. Unprompted, Caz said, “I feel like I’m being watched.” We were both shivering despite it not being as cold as it has been over the rest of the trip.

The site was a perfect setting for a couple of atmospheric photos of me in my plague doctor mask (which I’ve been carrying around for the whole trip). Fearing that I’d come across as insensitive and not wanting to offend any ghosts, I explained aloud what I was doing and thanked them for humouring me. This might sound silly to some people, but I didn’t want to take any chances. I also wanted to reiterate that I mean no harm.

Caz was unnerved by how dark the clumps of trees were getting so she flipped on the torch we’d gotten at Donki for this very purpose. Somehow the focused torch light made the place more ominous. She pointed the beam down a hill near the back of the site, where we could see a sort of wooden structure. Wanting to know what it was, I asked Caz to keep the light there as I scrambled down the hill to see (I know, I know – I’d be the first to die in a horror film).

It turned out to be a seating area with a wooden canopy. A strange place to put a bunch of benches, but I imagine the view into the woods is probably nice on a summer day. Caz cast the torch beam around so I could have a good scan of the area. I spotted a fence off to the left, behind a stand of trees. I felt like I knew what it was before I even went over there, and I went anyway.

Sure enough, it was a tiny cemetery, fenced off with a heavy metal gate. Before I engaged my rational mind, I’d tried to pull the handle. It was locked. I’m glad about this because I don’t think I should have gone in there. It was a tiny standing space surrounded by graves, in the middle of the woods. I took a really quick snap of it (forgetting to put the flash on) and scurried back up to Caz, and told her what I’d found.

I attempted to lighten this in Photoshop. It didn’t go well, but you get the idea.

There were several statues of varying sizes around the site, and they all hat red hats on. Some of them wore scarves and offerings of flowers and wine were placed near them. They were very nice statues, but the setting made them incredibly creepy. I later found out that one of the statues is said to be cursed, so I’m really glad I didn’t actually touch any of them. The cursed statue is so because thieves took its head – it has a new one now, but you can tell it’s newer than the rest of it. Also, apparently the thieves drove a white car, so if you visit Doryo-do in a white car I’m sorry but… Ya cursed.

By this time we were rapidly losing the light and neither of us wanted to be up there in the pitch dark. I already felt as though we’d hung around long enough, and didn’t want to overstay our welcome. We needed the torch at this point to see our surroundings and the path back to the stairs, which made everything look ten times creepier.

We forced ourselves not to rush as we walked down the stairs away from the temple – we felt as though we would get into a panic if we sped up. At the base of the stairs, we stopped to look at the sign about the temple and quietly thanked any lurking spirits for letting us have a wander around (and for letting me take photos in my plague doctor mask). After a short bow to the stairs, we took the path back to the way out.

Away from the bulk of the trees, we were met with a twinkling view of Hachioji as evening drew in. It was a calming sight, and we felt much less edgy on seeing evidence of other humans. We hadn’t seen or heard any of the rumoured ghosts up at the temple, but the atmosphere up there was heavy and melancholy enough for us to have felt sufficiently scared.

Once we were down the many stairs and away from the woods, we felt a bit less spooked. It was helped by walking by people’s homes and smelling dinner cooking around us. It smelled amazing, and we wistfully imagined being invited in for some home-cooked grub. The bus stop we had to wait at was right outside a police box which was also comforting in the dark.

It took forever to get home. The journey was just under two hours and involved a bus to Kitano station, the Keio Line to Shinjuku, walking to Shinjuku-Nishiguchi station and then getting the Oedo line back to Shin-Okachimachi before walking down the street to the hotel. I’m glad we went, though, because it was a really good experience and a fun adventure.

On the bus, Caz was doing some more reading about the history of the Doryo-do site. She found out something alarming. The path on which I’d had the frozen feeling, and needed to turn and walk away from? Supposedly that was where the body of the murdered college student was discovered. I’d only known about the older caretaker who was murdered there before we made this trip, so it was doubly frightening to find this out as I was unaware of the younger victim.

When we got back to the main city, we really couldn’t be bothered to find somewhere to eat so we just went back to the hotel and ordered some food. God bless UberEats – it really does make life a lot easier. We ordered from a traditional place because we fancied proper Japanese food after smelling the delightful dinner aromas in Hachioji. I had a lovely noodle bowl with veggies and a slice of tofu on top. I’ve never had tofu before and I really enjoyed it!