A Story About Going to Another World? When I Was in Elementary School: “Showa 73 → Rinmyoue”

[1] When I was in elementary school, my little sister and I went to a place that felt like another world. I’m still not sure what exactly that was, so I wanted to share this story with anyone familiar with or interested in these kinds of experiences or occult topics. I’m not very good at writing, and even though my sister and I tried to confirm our memories, some parts are still unclear. I apologize for that, but if you’re okay with it, I’d like to tell you. Also, my replies might be slow. Well, if anyone’s here, I’ll begin.

• [2] I’m here.

[3] >>2 Thank you. It was during summer vacation when I was in 3rd grade and my sister was in 1st grade. Around the end of August, with about a week of vacation left. I think it was about 8:30 PM. My sister and I were sent on an errand to a relative’s house nearby. On the way back, we had to pass through a deserted shrine, which was dark, eerie, and scary, so we planned to run through it. I gave the signal, and we started running across the wide shrine grounds. Then, my sister fell behind me. I rushed back to her, and she looked like she was about to cry, saying, “I can’t get up.”

Shrine (jinja): A religious facility in Shinto. A traditional place of worship in Japan and one of the spiritual centers of the local community.

[4] “What do you mean, you can’t get up?” I asked. She said someone was grabbing her leg. Squinting in the darkness, I saw something like a black puddle forming around her feet. Her right leg was stuck in it, up to about her knee. It was a physically impossible situation. Getting scared, I was about to cry myself as I pulled on my sister’s leg. But it wouldn’t come out; instead, she sank deeper. Soon, I started sinking too. We cried and called for help, but nobody came. The place we sank into was cold, and the black water clung to our bodies. Once we were fully submerged, I lost consciousness.

[5] When I came to, I was soaking wet, caught on a broken tree branch. My body was half-submerged in a black pond-like place, bigger than before. Looking beside me, my sister was in the same state. Near the pond, I could see several wooden houses. The sky was a beautiful sunset. There were no people in sight. We got out of the pond and walked towards the houses. It was a completely unfamiliar place, with no sign of people, and it was terrifying. As we walked, someone called out to us from behind.

[6] It was an old woman I didn’t know, wearing ragged, dirty traditional clothes (kimono). She mumbled when she spoke, so I couldn’t understand her well, but it seemed like she was inviting us to her house. The language was Japanese. She seemed kind, so we felt relieved. Her house was one of the wooden ones. When she opened the rattling door, there were four people inside. I felt uneasy that there were so many people when I hadn’t sensed anyone just moments before. There was a woman in her twenties, a boy about junior high school age, a man with glasses around thirty, and a girl about my age. They all stared at us blankly. The inside of the house looked like an old house from a textbook, with a sunken hearth (irori). Their clothes were also ragged kimonos or work pants (monpe), like something from wartime. The boy was wearing a school uniform (gakuseifuku).

Sunken hearth (irori): A feature in traditional Japanese houses where a square section of the floor is cut out, filled with ash, and used to burn wood or charcoal for heating, cooking, and lighting.
Monpe: Loose-fitting, trouser-like work clothes primarily worn by women, especially common during wartime.
School uniform (gakuseifuku): Uniforms worn by students in Japanese schools. Boys typically wear詰襟(tsume-eri)collared jackets or blazers, while girls wear sailor suits or blazers.

[7] According to the old woman, the man in his thirties (Father) and the woman (Mother) were married. The man was the old woman’s son. The woman in her twenties (Older Sister) and the boy were their children. Three generations lived together. The Older Sister helped us change out of our wet clothes. I was given the boy’s clothes: a collared shirt and pants. My sister was given small, old work pants. During this time, the Older Sister only spoke a few words like “This,” “Wear,” and the others sat silently in a formal sitting style (seiza). It seemed like it was time for dinner, and we were invited to eat with them.

Formal sitting style (seiza): A traditional Japanese way of sitting where one kneels and rests their buttocks on their heels. Often used in formal situations.

[8] We were served green rice, miso soup with no ingredients, and a small portion of what looked like wild grasses. I was surprised. My sister made a face showing strong dislike. We put our hands together and said “Itadakimasu” (Let’s eat), and everyone started eating. I tried asking, “We want to go home, how can we do that?” Mother: “Where did you come from?” Me: “From XX City in Tokyo.” Mother: “I don’t know that place. How about you, Father?” Father: “I don’t know it either.” Mother: “Then we don’t know.” No matter how many times I asked, the family seemed not to know “XX City in Tokyo,” or even “Tokyo.” They mentioned a few place names, asking “Maybe here?”, but they were names I’d never heard before. “Then, where is this place?” I asked. They said, “This is Kanagawa no Shoujoushi yo.”

Itadakimasu: A Japanese greeting said before meals, expressing gratitude for the food and those who prepared it.
Miso soup (miso shiru): A traditional Japanese soup made by dissolving miso paste in dashi stock. Ingredients vary widely.

[9] Since we weren’t eating much, they said we could finish later, so we quietly ate what was served. The green rice had an indescribable taste, unlike anything from our world. Sort of sweet, sort of bitter. There were bugs in the wild grasses. As I hesitated, my sister took them. After we finished eating, the Father explained various things. This place was called “Kanagawa no Shoujoushi.” They told me the kanji characters, but I forgot them. But it wasn’t Kanagawa Prefecture. It was August, and the date was supposedly the day after the one we went on the errand (according to my sister). As we talked, I felt there was a disconnect in understanding between us and this family. So, I asked a fundamental question: “What year is it in Japan here?” The Father then told me, “In Japan, it’s Rinmyoue 12.” I panicked, “What’s Rinmyoue? Isn’t it Heisei?”

Era name (nengou): Japan’s unique era name system. Eras change upon the ascension of a new Emperor or significant events. Examples: Showa, Heisei, Reiwa.

[10] Apparently, in this world, the Showa era ended in its 73rd year, and the next era was called “Rinmyoue.” And… they were in the middle of a war. Neither my sister nor I knew much history, but looking back now, it seems the history diverged from what we know around Showa 20 (1945), leading to a history we’d never heard of. That must be where the worlds split. The Father and the others seemed to think we had some kind of illness, repeating, “You poor things.” My sister asked me, “Can’t we go home?” I felt anxious too, but replied, “I’m sure we can.” However, my sister told me later she knew I was scared too. Since it was already dark, we decided to stay the night.

• [12] What were the clothes like for the people in the other world (tentative)?

[13] >>12 Hmm, like I wrote before, basically ragged, faded, or dirty. Like something between traditional Japanese clothing from World War II and peasant clothing from the Edo period… I guess? There were some Western-style clothes too. What we were wearing was, for me, a T-shirt and shorts, and for my sister, a tank top and shorts, both of us in sandals. No one said anything specific, but the Older Sister looked at our clothes like, “What is this?”

[14] Continuing the story. The next morning, the Older Sister took us to a clinic. The clinic was large, and there were many people in military uniforms around. A doctor in a white coat and glasses came out and asked us about what had happened. We explained everything as best we could, and he listened with a smile, nodding along. After that, he asked us some questions and told us to play with specific toys. The Older Sister and the doctor talked in another room. I eavesdropped and heard something like this: Doctor: “Are these children relatives of yours again?” Older Sister: “No. They’re lost.” Doctor: “Since we’re at war now, they must have suffered some shock that caused a mental disorder.” Older Sister: “Is that so?” Doctor: “It’s strange how they can lie so easily, like breathing. Or perhaps they truly believe they experienced such things.” Older Sister: “They were wearing strange clothes too.” Doctor: “Then perhaps their parents are also mentally disturbed.” Older Sister: “Will they be hospitalized?” Doctor: “Yes, I think so.”

[15] I didn’t fully understand, but I vaguely thought that if we were hospitalized, we wouldn’t be able to go home. The window was shut from the outside and had bars on it. Doctors were outside the door. We wanted to escape, but didn’t know how. While my sister and I were discussing “What should we do?”, the doctor came in and said, “Get in this vehicle,” leading us to a green truck. “You two have tried very hard, so I’ll take you somewhere fun,” the doctor said, but my sister and I knew we were being taken to a mental hospital or something similar. As we got in, the Older Sister gave us back the clothes we were originally wearing. There were about a dozen other people in the back of the truck besides us. About half of them had vacant eyes. Some were restrained. Outside, the doctor was telling the Older Sister, “It’s tough around here; we get someone suffering a mental breakdown about once every three days.” The truck started moving. It drove along a road, seemingly heading towards the mountains. At one point, we saw a person lying dead on the roadside. It looked like they had been shot. Soon after, a man with a missing right leg who was riding with us screamed and jumped off. There was a dull thud, and he disappeared from view. The driver kept going without pause. At first, I thought about jumping off somewhere to escape, but I got scared.

• [16] If they didn’t know Tokyo, maybe things were different from much earlier than Showa? But the fact that your current language worked suggests the history might have diverged around the Meiji or Taisho era.

[17] Eventually, the number of people dwindled, and the truck entered a mountain road. It shook violently. Before the mountain, there were lots of people dancing frantically, throwing tangerines at us, and laughing hysterically. Many tangerines landed in the truck bed. I was hungry, so I ate one; it was very delicious. However, considering the apparent lack of supplies at the first house, I wondered where those tangerines came from. Also, the people throwing them didn’t seem to be the ones being institutionalized. Once in the mountains, the grass was overgrown, and the ground looked soft. My sister suggested, “Maybe it’ll cushion our fall if we jump off safely?” But it was dark, and I couldn’t see my footing well, so I was scared. However, my sister jumped off in an instant. Steeling myself, I jumped too. It was indeed okay, but I hit my shoulder on impact. It hurt a lot. My sister ran over, and I felt relieved that we had managed to escape.

[18] >>16 Ah… you have a point. I don’t remember the details perfectly (it was before history class really started for me), so maybe the history was only similar up to a point. Though, I question how much the people in that house knew about their own world.

• [19] I don’t know how many years ago this happened, but why did you decide to tell this story now?

[20] >>19 As I mentioned briefly in [1], we still don’t really know what that experience was. Right after we came back, we wanted to know, so we told people around us a few times, but they didn’t really listen seriously. Then, searching online for things like ‘other world,’ I found other people’s experiences and thought, “Ah, maybe people on forums will actually listen to stories like this.” I talked it over with my sister, and we decided to share it on a Sunday when we had time.

[21] Sorry for the delay. Continuing the story. Escaping was good, but we were at a loss about what to do next. The tangerines weren’t enough, we were hungry, our bodies ached, it was dark, and even though it was supposed to be summer, it was cold. I started crying. My sister started crying too. We cried, saying “I want to go home.” We walked hand-in-hand while crying. Thinking we might find something if we went downhill, we started descending the mountain. But we were quite high up, so of course, we didn’t reach the bottom quickly. Around the time we stopped crying, we heard a dog barking somewhere. We both listened silently and walked towards the sound. We found it quickly. It was a large, brown dog. A haggard-looking man in his forties was with it. The man wore a military uniform and carried a backpack. He was tending a fire in a cave-like place. When the man saw us, he just said, “Ah-” and nodded to himself. He beckoned us over, had us sit by the fire, and gave us each a piece of hard bread.

• [22] Well, this is a true story, right? Then please tell it.

[24] As we hesitated with the bread, the man asked, “Where did you come from?” I wasn’t sure what to say, but I stuck with, “From XX City in Tokyo.” This man seemed to know Tokyo and XX City, which was a relief. Man: “Going home?” Sister: “Home? Yes!” Man: “Ah, got it.” After we finished the bread, he handed me the dog’s leash and said something like, “Follow this one, and you’ll get home. Don’t let go of the leash, no matter what.” I say “something like” because the man’s accent was so thick, I can’t reproduce it accurately in writing now. He seemed to tell my sister, “Your older sister (referring to me as ‘brother’ due to the clothes) is injured, so help her out with anything that looks like a burden.” The man seemed like he wanted to come with us but couldn’t. We thanked him and parted ways.

[25] >>22 It’s true, it really is. I’m just grateful you’re listening. So many people just assumed it was a lie…

[26] The dog walked slowly for us. It kept leading us deeper and deeper into the mountains, which made me worried. I think we walked for about three hours. It let us take breaks, but we were exhausted. We were still in the mountains, but suddenly the air changed. What had been cold and gloomy became that warm, humid air typical of summer heat. The dog stopped right at the boundary between the cold air space and the warm air. “Is this it?” I asked, and it barked once. I petted it, thanked it, and the dog ran back the way we came. Walking down the path in the warm air, it gradually got brighter, and the surrounding trees became shorter and fewer. We emerged onto an unfamiliar alley. Unfamiliar, but it was clearly some town street. There were apartment buildings; we knew we were back.

[27] Relieved, I asked someone passing by, “Excuse me, where is this?” The person looked at our clothes strangely but answered. It was somewhere on the edge of Kanagawa Prefecture. Of course, Tokyo was right next door. We didn’t have money to get home, so we picked up some loose change we found under a vending machine and called home. My mother answered. “We’re here in Kanagawa now, but we don’t have money, how should we get back?” I asked. She replied, “It’s not that far, just walk,” and hung up. Seriously, it’s far, I thought, but she’d hung up, so we had no choice but to walk. It was around 8 AM, three days after the day we went on the errand. By the time we reached home, the sun had already set.

[28] When we got home, our parents came out. When we said, “We fell into a puddle at the shrine and went somewhere weird,” they looked creeped out and threw salt on us. We took a bath and ate dinner. We were exhausted and fell asleep immediately. I thought for sure the police would have been called since we were gone for three days, but they weren’t. Apparently, the neighbors, relatives, friends, and school didn’t know. Our parents threw away the clothes we were given in the other world right away, saying they were dirty. So, when we told people, we had no proof, and they didn’t believe us. After that, we went back to the shrine, but we never saw that puddle again. We never met anyone who had a similar experience, and my sister and I often talked about what it could have been, but we never found an answer.

Throwing salt: In Japanese folk belief and customs, the act of scattering or throwing salt to purify defilement (kegare) or unclean things.

[29] Ever since learning the term ‘other world,’ I’ve always wondered if maybe we were sent to another world. Was that an other world? Also, who were that old man and the dog?

[30] Ah, I think I’ve told most of what happened.

• [31] Your mother is quite curt, isn’t she?

[32] >>31 Both my parents are sort of curt, or rather, I feel like they’re not very interested in us.

• [33] Maybe the “Spacetime Old Man”?
• [34] It was interesting, but your mother is harsh. Anyone would worry if their kids were gone for 3 days, and normally they’d come pick you up.
• [35] It’s impossible that nobody made a fuss when you were gone for 3 days.
• [36] Your parents’ reaction is more surprising than the other world events.

[38] >>33 Ah… I surprisingly never considered that. Maybe so. >>34 Both my parents had driver’s licenses, but… maybe they thought it was a waste of gas or something? >>35 If it had been a school day, there might have been a fuss, but at that point, it was still summer vacation, so only our parents knew we hadn’t come back. Maybe my sister’s friends called, but perhaps they just said we were “out”? >>36 Really? (lol). Seems like everyone’s surprised by my mother’s reaction. But our family has always been like this. Well, back then, I figured they wouldn’t freak out if we disappeared, but I was surprised they didn’t at least call the police (lol).

• [47] Well, I believe you. The world is full of mysteries.