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  GLOSSARY OF JAPANESE HONORIFICS

  In order to preserve some of the Japanese heritage of the story while at the same time making it accessible to readers in the English-speaking world, I have opted to keep the honorific name suffixes used in the Japanese language. These are presented here, for the reader’s reference.

  Honorific Suffixes

  Chan —Normally used to address small children of either gender or young women with whom the speaker is very familiar. It is sometimes used between men who are friendly as well. It is often used with given names, but sometimes family names (or abbreviations thereof) are given this suffix.

  Kun —Most often used with boys or men who are younger or about the same age as the speaker (such as a classmate). It can be used with family names or given names.

  San —The most common Japanese name suffix, it is often compared to “Mr.” “Ms.” “Mrs.” “Miss” in English. It can be used with either family names or given names.

  Sensei —When used as a suffix, this term denotes a teacher, doctor, lawyer, etc. Formally, it is used with the family name.

  Note on names: For the purpose of this translation, all proper names have been placed in the western order, with the given name first and the family name last, as opposed to the native Japanese order, in which the family name comes first and the given name second.

  JU’ON [joo-on] n. The curse of a person who dies while holding a very strong hatred or rage. This curse accumulates in the place where that person lived, and becomes a “karma.” Anyone who comes into contact with this curse dies, and the curse is recreated anew.

  PROLOGUE

  Kayako

  I walk into the classroom. And—in that instant the classroom, which had been alive with laughter and chatter, turns quiet.

  Silence.

  Watching.

  I walk to my seat, my eyes cast downward, looking at my own feet.

  I don’t remember when this all started. Probably, a long, long time ago. Whenever I come near, people stop talking, stop laughing.

  I don’t know why. No matter how hard I think about it, I just don’t know why.

  My parents gave me the name Kayako. They told me they took it from the name of the Korean harp, called the Kaya-gum—but I don’t have any idea why they would name me after a musical instrument. I can recall ever so vaguely hearing about what kind of instrument it is, and how it sounds. But I have long since forgotten. I cannot even ask anyone, anymore.

  My parents were married for thirteen years before I, their first and only child, was born.

  My parents took good care of me. Yes, I believe that they must have. After all, they got me whatever I said that I wanted.

  However, my father and mother were both very busy with work, and they were hardly ever by my side. I spent most of my time all alone, in this house.

  No, I wasn’t completely alone. My cat, Kuro, was always with me. Kuro and I spent all of our time in this house, staring out the window, watching the clouds go by, and the trees gently swaying in the wind. Kuro and I ate our meals together, I would tell Kuro about all the things that happened to me that day, and I would fall to sleep stroking Kuro’s body.

  Yes, except for Kuro, I was all alone. Even when there were many people around me, I was always alone.

  When I was in preschool, I often played with the other children. We would break up into two groups and try to take members from the other team. We would call out the name of the classmate we wanted on our team and then play rock-paper- scissors to see which team got that person.

  But, even when we were playing this game, no one ever said, “We want Kayako-chan.” Not even once.

  No one ever needed me. Then again, I never needed anyone, either. So we were always even-Steven. There was never a boy who liked me, but there was never a boy whom I liked, either. Everything was all balanced out.

  But… that balance was broken when I went to college. It was all because of a boy named Shunsuke Kobayashi.

  Kobayashi-kun.

  It was the first time I ever loved someone else.

  It happened about a week after classes started. We students in our freshman year of the Education course decided to hold a class party at a nearby pub. It wasn’t as if I wanted to make friends with the others in the class, but I couldn’t find an excuse not to go, so I went along anyway.

  That was my first time drinking alcohol, but I think that everyone else was pretty much in the same boat. Some had a bit too much and fell asleep, while others excused themselves to the toilet to be sick. Kobayashi-kun was one of those who slipped off to the restroom.

  It was toward the end of the party, when I came out from the bathroom. I saw Kobayashi-kun slumped over in the hallway. His mouth was wet, so I knew that he had just rinsed his mouth after vomiting.

  I still don’t know how I worked up the courage to do this, but I squatted down in front of him until our eyes were on the same level, and offered my handkerchief without a word. He looked at me with his bloodshot eyes and took my handkerchief, smiling rather shyly. “Thank you, Kawamata-san,” he said.

  Thank you . . . Kawamata-san.

  How did Kobayashi-kun even remember my name? We had only met a little while ago.

  Kobayashi-kun remembered my name. And in the instant he said “Kawamata-san,” my heart fluttered. It was the first time I had ever felt such a thing, but I didn’t know the reason I felt that way. All I know is that from that time, I was in love with Kobayashi-kun.

  I watched Kobayashi-kun from that time on.

  Yes. I was always looking at Kobayashi-kun’s face from the side, or from the back. I waited for him at the station every morning, and when he came out of the gate, I would follow him. I would always sit right behind him in the classroom, staring at him. At the cafeteria, at the library, at the CD shops near campus, at the bookstore, at the hamburger shop, at the video arcade, at the Pachinko parlor, at the coffee house … I was always, always looking at my Kobayashi-kun.

  I loved him. I loved him so much I couldn’t stand it.

  Of course I could never bring myself to tell him that I loved him. The only thing I could do was to write out my feelings for Kobayashi-kun in my brown scrapbook. Much in the same way that researchers studying elephants, lions, chimpanzees, or gorillas keep records of their observations, so too did I keep a record of Kobayashi-kun’s actions. Who he talked to, what he ate, where he went, what he did … what kind of environment he grew up in, what he liked to drink, what his hobbies were, what kinds of sports he enjoyed … I kept my record of him with my terrible illustrations and pictures I drew of him, and even some photos I had secretly taken of him, along with my feelings for him, all in that brown scrapbook.

  I had known from the very beginning that my first love would never develop. Instead of me, Kobayashi-kun became close with another girl from the same class, Manami Midorikawa, and they eventually began dating. Sadly, it was me who was the first in the class to notice their relationship developing.

  I hate to admit it, but Manami Midorikawa was very pretty, with a body like a model. She was probably at the center of peoples’

  attention ever since she was born. She was very confident, very bright. She was kind, cheerful, and always full of energy. I could never compete against her charms.

  I was very jealous of her, I envied her, I hated her, I cursed her … and I eventually gave up. There was nothing else I could do.

  It was about that time that Kuro died. I found him, stiff in the corner, when I came home from school. I cried for three days, holding Kuro’s dead body. On the fourth day, when Kuro’s body started giving off the stench of decay, I finally buried him in the garden, under the cherry blossom tree.

  My Kuro, the only one who ever needed me, died. I cried, cried, cried my eye
s out for days on end.

  Unhappiness always seems to be followed by more of the same.

  Right after Kuro died, my parents also passed away. They died in a traffic accident while on vacation overseas.

  But, I don’t recall ever being sad about it. I had no reason not to be sad, but I have no recollection of being sad. Why? When Kuro died, I cried for days, but when my parents died I didn’t. Even at the wake and the funeral, I didn’t shed a single tear.

  Perhaps, then, I don’t have it in my heart to weep for the death of humans. No, I probably don’t even have a human heart at all.

  When my parents died, I dropped out of college. I only went because they told me to, but now that they were gone I had no reason to continue going. I didn’t want to see Kobayashi-kun and Manami Midorikawa being all mushy in front of me. I quit school and spent my days in this house, this time really all alone. It was about that time that Takeo came to me.

  Takeo Saeki was six years older than I was; he worked as an illustrator. He lived in a nearby apartment, owned by my parents, so I did know his face. To me—a nineteen-year-old girl—Takeo, with his thinning hair, looked like nothing more than an old man.

  My heart didn’t flutter like it did with Kobayashi-kun. I never thought he was particularly charming or good-looking. But, Takeo told me, “Kayako, I want you.”

  Kayako, I want you.

  It was the first time anyone had ever told me that they wanted me.

  I decided then to become Takeo’s.

  Takeo and I had a small wedding ceremony, and began our life together, in this house, where I grew up.

  Kayako, I want you.

  Takeo always told me that before we had sex. I was very happy to be told this. Every night, I began to wonder when Takeo would say, “Kayako, I want you,” and I began to look forward to it.

  But, it wasn’t as if I particularly enjoyed the sex.

  I don’t know about other men, but Takeo was rather rough. With Takeo, it was not an act of loving, but to me it felt more like a ritual to hold me down, beat me into submission, force me to kneel at his feet, to make me his slave. Every time he took me on that bed, I had no choice but to moan and pant, as it was even hard for me to breathe. I cried out with every thrust as he pierced my body, moaning like subjugated natives under the iron hands of their oppressors.

  The sex was rough and violent. However, outside of that, Takeo was a very kind man.

  We had a child the year after we were married. It was a boy. I begged Takeo to let me name our son.

  I named him Toshio, a name that used the same first ideogram as Shunsuke, my first love’s name.

  Of course, I did have some misgivings about this, so in order to appease my own conscience, I used the “o” character from my husband’s name.

  “Toshio. Toshio.”

  Every time I called our baby’s name, I remembered Kobayashi-kun, and secretly my heart fluttered, just like that first time.

  Nothing special happened for several years.

  Takeo turned out to be more possessive and jealous than I had first thought. He tried to tie me down, to own me. If I mentioned in passing that I liked a particular actor on the TV, he would get very angry. But outside of this, our life was very pleasant and quiet. I spent my time in this house, as a housewife, looking after my son and my husband. I thought it would be nice if the rest of my life could be like this.

  But—this quiet happiness would not last for much longer. It out that Toshio’s first grade teacher was none other than my first love, Shunsuke Kobayashi!

  When I saw him at the ceremony for Toshio’s first day of school, I was surprised, confused … and very happy.

  I looked out of the second-story bedroom window to the garden below. The cherry blossom tree where I buried Kuro—the cherry

  blossom tree that had been there before I was born and had bloomed proudly every year—was in full bloom again this year. The pale, pink petals fluttered softly in the wind like snowflakes, turning the black earth beneath the tree into a pink carpet.

  I closed my eyes and recalled Kobayashi-kun, who was for sure now standing at the front of the classroom, facing Toshio and the other children, teaching his class.

  “Kobayashi’kun.”

  I whispered his name, softly.

  I got a tight, cold feeling in my stomach, just like the first time.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Once upon a time, a certain doctor in a faraway country carried out an experiment. The doctor had specially rigged the beds of terminal patients, in an attempt to measure any difference in body weight at the exact moment of death.

  The doctor believed that if a spirit or soul existed, then it must have mass, and therefore weight. If that was true, then at the very moment of death, the corpse on the bed would have to become lighter as the spirit or soul left the body.

  When a patient in the hospital had finally entered the last moments, the doctor went to the patient’s side and stared at the needle of the scale he had attached to the bed. He waited until the patient passed away.

  At the moment of death, would the body weight decrease? Or would it stay the same?

  Can you believe it? The doctor s hypothesis was correct! At the exact moment of death, nearly every body showed a decrease in body weight.

  The doctor believed that this decrease in body weight was the weight of that persons spirit or soul leaving the body at the moment of death.

  Over the course of the next several years, the doctor performed his experiment on dozens of patients. Besides a very small number of exceptions, most of the people showed a clear decrease in body weight. The doctor found something else, even more interesting.

  The decrease in weight at the exact moment of death varied. The smallest he measured was 5 grams; the average was 10 grams; there were

  some who lost over 20 grams, and even a few who hst nearly 30 grams. The loss in weight was unrelated to the physical body weight of the person in life. What, then, did it mean?

  After much speculation, the doctor came to his conclusion: the more regrets or attachments the person had in life, the greater their loss of weight in death.

  A mother who left a young child behind.

  A man who died with a deep hatred toward another person.

  A young person who had decided to devote his life to music, but died before he could make it big.

  A husband poisoned to death by his wife to get his money.

  A man falsely accused of a crime who died while trying to prove his innocence.

  A wife who was beaten daily and finally killed by her husband.

  The largest weight loss the doctor had witnessed had been a pregnant woman who had been brought into the hospital comatose. When her heart stopped, she lost nearly 100 grams. An autopsy had shown she was poisoned. Finally, the woman s husband was arrested for the murder. He admitted to threatening his pregnant wife and forcing her to take poison, all so he could be with his young lover.

  It is said that the man, while in prison for his crime, was haunted by the ghost of his wife, and that he died insane.

  Of course, we have no way to verify the veracity of the doctors findings. The truths of the experiment results are lost to history.

  Only a few years later, the doctor contracted a mental illness and passed away. There is no record of the amount of weight that he hst at the moment of death.

  Takeo

  “I’d like to have a daughter, if possible.”

  Takeo Saeki had been thinking this for a while now.

  However, his wife, Kayako, had not gotten pregnant since she gave birth to their son, Toshio, six years ago. About at the end of his patience, Takeo sent her to have her checked out, thinking that perhaps something happened to his wife’s body to make her infertile. Her test results, however, showed nothing out of the ordinary.

  So, Takeo took it upon himself to get tested at the hospital. Of course, he did not doubt the virility of his sperm. He just thought that it wasn’t fair to make his wife get
checked out and not be tested himself.

  A week after his initial test, Takeo returned to the hospital to get the results. After that, he had planned to return to the designers’s office where he worked.

  It was now springtime, everything a deep green, right after the Golden Week holidays. It was a very hot day, and some women had their shoulders bared in sleeveless dresses or tank tops already. Their hair gleamed brightly in the strong sun.

  After being kept waiting in the quiet waiting room of the hospital for about fifteen minutes, Takeo was called into the doctor’s room. The doctor who awaited him in the white, sterile room was a young doctor, different from the one who had originally seen him a week ago. The doctor had a good-looking face, framed with rimless glasses. Looking back and forth between Takeo’s . face and his medical records, the doctor said, “It seems that you have oligozospermia.”

  “Huh? What?” asked when he heard the unfamiliar word.

  “Oligozospermia.”

  “Huh?” Takeo cocked his head in confusion. “Urn, Doctor, what does that mean?”

  “The sample that you gave to us has a much lower sperm count than normal.”

  “Low … sperm count?”

  “Yes. That’s right. Your semen has less than three million sperm per cc.”

  “Less than three million …” Takeo cocked his head again. “Can you please put that into simpler terms?”

  “Of course. I’m sorry,” the young doctor smiled stiffly. “Normally a sperm count of less than twenty million per cc is called oligozospermia. A sperm count of fewer than twenty million per cc reduces the chances of natural fertilization. A sperm count o( less than five million per cc reduces these chances drastically. A sperm count of less than three million per cc, like you Saeki-san, makes those chances almost zero.”

  Zero.

  “Urn, Doctor, is this low sperm count a recent development, or something that I’ve had all along?” Takeo groaned, shocked by the doctor’s words.

  This time, the doctor shrugged.

  “I cannot say for sure, but going by similar patients I have seen, you probably have had this problem for a long time, if not from the very beginning.”