Hello. My name is Sesuji. Thank you for reading this story. Well, I’m not sure if story is the right word for it, but thank you for reading this collection of short articles and other pieces.
I’m a freelance writer living in Tokyo. Sesuji is the pen name I’m using for this project; I use a different one for my main work.
I mostly write for horror and paranormal magazines, though sometimes I contribute to radio programs and local TV shows dealing with horror stories. I used to work as an editor for a small publishing house and have spent twenty-odd years in this corner of the industry. But at the end of the day, those subjects will always be a niche interest, so I’ve recently begun taking whatever work I can get, such as for magazines about dining or gambling. It puts food on the table, so I can’t complain.
Some readers might find this sudden interjection by the author jarring. But what you’re about to read, which includes my own personal story, will prove crucial to your progress through the book. And once you have understood everything, I would like to ask for your cooperation.
That is why I created this book, so I hope you will read to the end.
My friend has gone missing, and I would like you to provide me with any information you might have.
I should start by explaining that I did not write the articles appearing in this book.
Nor did Ozawa, my friend who disappeared.
I simply collected a series of articles and snippets from a certain magazine released by the publisher my friend works for (or used to work for), along with some other sources, then I bundled them all together under the title About a Place in the Kinki Region. This book contains numerous stories related to a specific place. To be precise, I am talking about an area encompassing multiple locations within the Kinki region, hence the title of this book.
That place spans several prefectures, so its name varies depending on the location. But you could circle the entire area on a map without lifting your pen.
I will provide more details later, but I have decided it’s unwise to disclose the precise location. So the name of any spot mentioned in the story that falls inside this zone will be written as .
I met Ozawa, my friend who is now missing, four years ago, just before the coronavirus ravaged Japan.
It was at an in-person meetup for an online community of horror-story fans. Not only am I a horror enthusiast myself, but I find such events useful to source ideas for work, so I often attend them.
This particular group was interested in horror movies, and I remember our small group met at a café in Koenji to discuss the topic.
Ozawa came with his then-girlfriend (he told me they broke up a couple of months later). She liked horror movies and he loved all movies, including horror. A naturally inquisitive person, he listened attentively to what the other members were saying and eventually struck up a conversation with me, as I happened to be seated next to him. He was friendly and a very good listener, and after a while, our conversation strayed from movies. I began telling him the horror stories and urban legends that I had run across throughout my career as a writer.
He was in his second year of university at the time, and I remember being surprised at how fun it was to talk with him, despite our nearly two-decade difference in age. After the meetup, he and I would sometimes update each other on our lives via social media.
One year ago, he sent me a DM.
Long time no type! I started a new job at a publishing company in the spring, and they assigned me to a department that does a magazine on the paranormal! Since that’s right up your alley, I had to let you know. It’s been a while, and I’m sure there’s a lot I can learn from your experience, so I thought I’d invite you for a drink. How about it?
We met up for the first time in several years, and I could tell he’d matured. He already looked like a working adult. I felt like a parent seeing their child all grown up, even though it was only the second time we’d ever met face-to-face.
Nestling into an izakaya I frequent in Nakano, we toasted our reunion and caught each other up on recent events. Then he told me about his new job. As it happened, I had written a couple of pieces for that very same company. It’s a midsize publisher focused on books and magazines.
“I was looking for a job as an editor of literary works, but they assigned me to a different department… Either way, I got the job, so I intend to make the best of it.”
He had been assigned to his publisher’s mook editorial department. For those who don’t know what a mook is, it’s a portmanteau of magazine and book. If they’re associated with a regular magazine, they might also be called “supplementary issues.” Essentially, the word refers to these one-off editions, as well as anthologies of articles or comics commonly sold at convenience stores. Ozawa was now working as an editor for this kind of publication.
“Of course, since I’m still a fresh graduate, they didn’t want me to work on an issue all by myself. So I started out just shadowing my bosses and running errands.”
Then one day, a senior employee presented him with an opportunity.
“Editors usually spend a couple of months on each book, but since I’m new and still helping out on various projects, they said I could work on something of my own over the course of a year. By the way, do you know the magazine called that we publish?”
The magazine he’d named was a monthly publication focused on the paranormal that was quite famous in certain circles.
Though it began as a column in a weekly entertainment news journal called , it eventually expanded into its own magazine and was a long-running mainstay in its genre, in print for over two decades.
It published a surprisingly wide-ranging assortment of articles, including authentic creepy stories, reports on paranormal hot spots, urban legends, unsolved mysteries, and even UFO sightings. Somewhat surprisingly, this wide breadth of content proved popular with readers, and many paranormal and horror enthusiasts are still devout fans of the magazine. Unfortunately, a downturn in the publishing industry a few years back forced it to stop publication and dissolve its editorial department. Afterward, it hung on to life as a mook, published as so-called supplementary issues at irregular intervals, or occasionally as a convenience store book under a different name.
I had written a few pieces for the magazine at the start of my freelance career and even received some work for the supplementary issues after regular publication ended. They hadn’t given me anything recently, but Ozawa’s first assignment was to edit the next supplementary issue.
While I didn’t say this to Ozawa, I understood his boss’s thinking. Times had changed, and a magazine specializing in the paranormal was never going to fly off the shelves. The people buying it would likely be die-hard fans or curious folk just looking for something to kill time, so it would make for a good practice project for a newbie. According to Ozawa, the magazine didn’t have a designated editor and the publishing house simply assigned the job to anyone in the mook department who could meet the publication date. It obviously wasn’t bringing in much revenue.
Despite all this, he seemed excited to be working on something of his own.
“I suggested going out to paranormal hot spots frequented by horror-related YouTube channels and mixing in interviews with some of the more famous streamers, but…”
His boss rejected the whole idea. I could easily guess why.
“He said reporting and new material like that costs money. And while it would probably make for better content, it’s a newbie’s job to create good work while keeping costs as low as possible.”
The reason sounded plausible enough, but I could tell the publisher just didn’t want to waste their budget on the project. In fact, the most recent supplementary issue of the magazine in question had clearly been pieced together using back issues. Every single article induced a feeling of déjà vu, and even an outsider like me could tell the magazine was determined to spend as little money as they could paying third parties.
“Creating something with no budget means I have to use articles that have already been published. But this is my first assignment, so I want to do the best I can.”
To my surprise, he had decided to comb through every past issue, including every article from back when the magazine was only a column in a weekly journal. That would mean hundreds of issues, maybe more. But Ozawa had a curious mind, and this was his first job. It seemed he was more than ready to put in the effort required.
“In my downtime, I hole up inside the company archives and read. There’s a lot of research material in addition to the old magazines, but everything is crammed haphazardly inside cardboard boxes with no organization whatsoever. So it’s going to take a lot of time to check through everything. For now, though, my plan is to look through it all, pick a theme, and then think about what kind of special feature would work for it. They gave me a little bit of money to hire a freelancer to write something new, and I’d like to ask you once everything’s decided.”
I agreed immediately, delighted to help my friend with his first job.
He contacted me again about a month later…