On an Obon Night. A Slightly Mysterious, Gentle Story from Itako

…Good evening.

This is Tohoku Itako.

This is my first time writing for the blog.

Usually, I leave this to Zundamon and Zunko… but today, I felt like I wanted to write.

Today is August 14th.

The middle day of Obon.

🏮 Obon is a Time for Welcoming

Obon is said to be the period when the spirits of our ancestors return.

It varies by region, but in most places, it’s from August 13th to the 16th.

On the evening of the 13th, we light a mukaebi (welcome fire) to light the way, as if to say, “This way.”

On the 16th, we light an okuribi (sending-off fire) to see them off, saying, “See you again.”

…It’s a simple custom, just that.

But these four days are my favorite time of the year.

Because it’s not noisy.

And because it’s a time when you’re allowed to openly think about those you can no longer meet.

🔥 Lighting the Fire on the Veranda

On the evening of the 13th.

We lit the mukaebi on the Zunda Union’s veranda.

Tohoku Itako lighting the mukaebi on the veranda at dusk

We break hemp stalks, place them on an unglazed dish, and light them.

It made small crackling sounds, pachi, pachi, and a thin trail of smoke rose straight up.

It was a quiet, windless evening.

Zunko: “…It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
Itako: “…Yes.”
Kiritan: “Is there a meaning to this?”
Itako: “…It’s a guidepost. So they don’t get lost.”
Kiritan: “…I see.”

Kiritan didn’t ask anything more and sat down next to me.

Eleven-year-olds can be surprisingly perceptive at times like these.

After that, we all made offerings.

Animals made from cucumbers and eggplants. A winter cherry.

And three zunda mochi.

Zundamon kept telling himself over and over, “This isn’t for me, nanoda! It’s for our guests, nanoda!”

…Good boy.

🎐 What Happened That Night

Later that night, after everyone had gone to sleep.

I stayed out on the veranda by myself.

On nights like this, I just feel like staying awake.

The smell of a mosquito coil. The sound of insects.

The moon wasn’t out, and the garden remained dark.

…And the wind had stopped.

It had stopped completely.

The kind of night where not a single leaf was stirring.

And yet.

Chirin.

The wind chime under the eaves rang.

Just once.

A very clear sound.

A wind chime and zunda mochi offering on the veranda at night, with Itako’s back to the viewer, not turning around

I didn’t turn around.

I felt it wasn’t something I should turn around for.

I just bowed my head slightly.

“…Welcome.”

That’s what I said.

🍡 The Next Morning

The next morning.

When I looked at the offering plate, one of the zunda mochi was gone.

There were supposed to be three, but now there were only two.

Zundamon: “It wasn’t me, nanoda! It really wasn’t me, nanoda!”
Itako: “…I know.”
Zundamon: “…Huh?”
Itako: “You were holding back properly yesterday, weren’t you?”
Zundamon: “…You were watching, nanoda?”
Itako: “…I see everything.”

Zundamon was quiet for a moment, and then he said:

Zundamon: “Then… I wonder if they thought it was delicious, nanoda.”
Itako: “…I’m sure they did.”

I think that’s for the best.

Someone came during the night.

Ate one zunda mochi.

Rang the wind chime just once, and went home.

…Let’s just leave it at that.

There’s no need to find out the truth.

🍉 The Quiet Four Days of Obon

During these four days, everyone at the Union was quieter than usual.

Metan was on the veranda, reading a book. She didn’t mention efficiency even once.

Deltamon baked a small cake for the offering.

Deltamon: “Ancestors enjoy sweets too, don’t they?”
Itako: “…I’m sure they do.”

Kyuurin was in the garden, drawing a picture of the winter cherry.

Zundadon spent a long time gazing at the southern sky.

Zundadon: “We have a similar custom in my country, dadon.”
Itako: “…It’s the same everywhere.”

Ankomon, thinking no one was watching, was quietly tidying up the offering plate.

…I was watching, you know.

There’s something nice about seeing the usually lively kids being so quiet.

🌾 My Thoughts

I am one who channels spirits at Mount Osore, but…

I always think that it’s not that “they come to visit us,” but rather, “we can meet them because we remember them.”

Remembering their face. Remembering their voice. Remembering their favorite phrases.

In that moment, that person is truly there.

Lighting the fire, making offerings—they’re all just tools for that purpose.

…The ritual is nothing more than a catalyst for remembrance.

So, even if you can’t go back to your hometown for Obon.

Even if the grave is far away.

As long as you make time to remember, that’s enough.

💚 One Last Thing from Zundamon

Just as I finished writing, Zundamon came to peek.

Zundamon: “Itako-neesan, this isn’t a scary story, is it, nanoda?”
Itako: “…Is it scary?”
Zundamon: “It’s not scary at all, nanoda! …Probably.”
Itako: “…Probably?”
Zundamon: “…Can I sleep in your room tonight, nanoda?”

…How cute.

🕯️ In Summary

Obon (August 13th-16th) is a time for welcoming and sending off the spirits of ancestors.
The mukaebi is a guidepost, and the okuribi is a signal for seeing them off.
Offerings are a catalyst for remembrance.
It’s best not to question the night the wind chime rang just once.
As long as you have time to remember those you hold dear, that’s enough.

Tonight, just for a little while.

Try to make some time to remember those you can no longer meet.

…That alone will have made writing this article worthwhile.

If you’d like to know more about us, please feel free to check out our Character Introduction page and my page.

…Well then.

Have a peaceful Obon.

This was Tohoku Itako.