The second spirit also eventually regained consciousness and revealed she was still alive. Ashamed and unable to face the boy, she refused to give her name but returned to her own body. Days later, rumors circulated about a neighborhood girl who had mysteriously awakened from a prolonged illness.
The incident drew massive public attention. Crowds gathered at the Matsutooya house, debating whether the events proved Buddhist karma or were merely psychological phenomena. Zōkai reportedly dismissed the debates, stating simply that human emotions sometimes break free from the body and wander.
Fascinating Details Not in the Story
The priest Zōkai Etan was a real historical figure with documented accomplishments in Buddhist scholarship and ritual practice. His involvement lends the account unusual credibility—this wasn’t folklore passed through generations but a contemporary report involving a named, verifiable religious authority.
The ikiryō phenomenon has deep roots in Japanese classical literature. The most famous example appears in The Tale of Genji (11th century), where Lady Rokujō’s living spirit unconsciously attacks Genji’s pregnant wife. What makes the Matsutooya case remarkable is the transformation: living spirit to death spirit while still actively haunting. This progression is rarely documented.
Oyuu’s request to “change clothes” before departing reflects deep cultural significance around death rituals. In Japanese tradition, the deceased are dressed in specific garments for the journey to the afterlife. That a disembodied spirit would care about this detail—and specifically recall a robe her mother made—adds a heartbreaking human dimension to the supernatural event.
The second girl’s refusal to reveal her name is equally telling. In a society where reputation and shame carried immense weight, she chose anonymity even in confession, protecting herself from social consequences while still releasing the boy from her grip.
A Question Left Hanging
We’re accustomed to thinking of ghosts as what remains after death. But what happens when the ghost appears before death, and then dies while haunting? Oyuu existed in a liminal state—already separated from her body, already acting as a spirit, yet not quite dead. When her body finally expired, did her experience of death differ from a normal person’s? Was there a moment of realization, or had she already crossed over without knowing?
And the second girl—the one who survived and returned—what did she remember? Did she wake in her sickbed with eight days of lost time, or did she carry the memory of those nights speaking through another person’s mouth?
The priest said human emotions sometimes break free and wander. Perhaps the real question isn’t whether that’s true, but what parts of ourselves are already wandering while we sleep.