2022年10月21日（金）
This was a trip unlike any other.
Our eccentric mission: to meet a zashiki-warashi. And so we set off for Ninohe.
The zashiki-warashi, they say, reveals itself only to children and those with a pure heart.
I had long given up any hope for myself — but I wanted to bring the children here while they were still young.
An hour and a half on the expressway from Morioka. Close enough on a map — yet somehow far, in the way that special places tend to be. That is Ryokufu-so.
Ahhh… what a magnificent inn.
Heart fluttering, I slid open the entrance door.
A staff member appeared from the back. I gave my name, and she smiled: “We have been expecting you.”
What was it? The moment I stepped inside, the air felt different — cleaner, somehow.
I had the odd sensation of being watched by eyes I couldn’t see. I felt myself grow a little tense.
Oh wow — the room was absolutely beautiful.
In the closet: bath towels, hand towels, and yukata, one set for each of us.
Inside the cabinet, drip coffee packets and pouches of tea had been neatly arranged.
A door to the washroom, another to the toilet. No shower in the room itself.
The amenities included a toothbrush set, hairbrush, and shower cap, among others.
Really, what a lovely room. I felt genuinely happy just being in it.
Even setting aside the whole zashiki-warashi surprise — it was genuinely wonderful. Fresh, immaculate, the kind of room that makes you sigh with contentment.
Check-in at three. The baths opened at four.Time to head down.
I paused in the corridor, caught by a display of Kamemaro-kun’s toys.
Throughout the inn, you could sense how tenderly the staff held the zashiki-warashi — not as a gimmick, but as something genuinely cherished.
And this — this is the Enju no Ma. The Room of the Pagoda Tree.
Until the inn burned to the ground a decade ago, this was the room where the zashiki-warashi was said to appear — famous enough to be featured on television.
Legend had it that those who encountered the spirit would be blessed with great fortune — a promotion, a brilliant match. Reservations were booked years in advance.
Since the rebuilding, it has become a shared space. On the table sat a notebook filled with guests’ accounts — sightings of the zashiki-warashi, orbs glimpsed in corridors, messages of gratitude written in careful hands.
I’ll come back after dinner, I thought.
The evening meal was a study in abundance.
Fresh sashimi, sea squirt and mozuku seaweed in vinegar dressing. Moments like this make me glad to be Japanese.
Shabu-shabu of Sasuke Pork — a prized local breed raised in the hills around Ninohe.
The fact that you can savour local delicacies alongside the whole zashiki-warashi experience — that is what makes this place special. A truly wonderful inn.
Following the staff’s instructions: once the vegetables had cooked through, swish the Sasuke Pork gently through the broth. Itadakimasu.
A bite.
OH MY — it’s incredible —
I’m no pork connoisseur, but this was something else entirely. Nothing like what I eat at home.
Unlimited new-harvest rice and senbei jiru — rice cracker soup. Honestly, that alone would have made me happy.
Chawanmushi, my absolute favourite. So good.
Ayu sweetfish, salt-grilled. I adore it — but my stomach had other ideas. I couldn’t finish it. (Crying.)
I had booked the “light meal” plan. And yet here I was, completely full.
Worse — I had to leave some dishes unfinished. Inn cooking is always so lavish and delicious; I just can’t keep up. To whoever prepared it all — I’m so sorry.
After dinner, we were playing with the children in the Enju no Ma when a staff member quietly asked: “May I dim the lights?” The room grew softer, darker. The atmospheredeepened.
What followed was something none of us had ever experienced before…
What happened that night?
That, I will tell you in a moment.
The next morning, we visited the Kamemaro Shrine within the inn’s grounds. During the fire a decade ago, it alone was spared — as though something had protected it.
We stood there — each of us in our own quiet thoughts — offering gratitude, wonder, whatever each heart held.
Thank you for these memories.
At the gift shop, we picked up a few small souvenirs.
Before we knew it, it was time to check out.
Before leaving, we asked a staff member to take a family photo for us.
She told us about the area — there are so many wonderful places to eat in and around Ninohe. I would very much like to come back.
I’ll say it again: even if you set the zashiki-warashi entirely aside, this is a remarkable inn. If you’re curious at all — please, go. Just go.
Thank you for such a joyful time.
Ryokufu-so — Inn of the Zashiki-Warashi Legend
41 Nagataga, Kanedaichi, Ninohe City, Iwate Prefecture
Tel: 0195-27-2131
Afterword: Something Strange
On this trip, we encountered something none of us had ever experienced before.
It began after dinner, in the dimly lit Enju no Ma — and it began with the children.
My daughter, a middle schooler, suddenly gasped. “Oh — just now — I saw a line of light…!”
My younger son saw light too. “My left shoulder feels… heavy,” he said.
Something was happening. I could feel it.
ut I — the adult — could see nothing, feel nothing. I was quietly disappointed, when a staff member said: “Sometimes, if you use the camera flash or record a video, you can catch them.”
ut I — the adult — could see nothing, feel nothing. I was quietly disappointed, when a staff member said: “Sometimes, if you use the camera flash or record a video, you can catch them.”
What…
What is this…
They looked like insects, or like autumn leaves caught in a gust of wind.
Through the camera lens: countless small spheres of light, simply existing — completely naturally, as though they had always been there.
Ah. So these were orbs.
I wasn’t frightened. If anything, they felt familiar — like something that had always been nearby. But could anyone truly explain what they were?
In my own words: they were nature itself. I don’t think we saw the zashiki-warashi. But I felt that where the zashiki-warashi dwells, these things — whatever they are from the natural world — gather around it.
The way animals gather in the depths of an ancient forest. The way nameless fish drift together in the deep of the sea…
We had stepped one foot into that depth, and felt it. In that moment, I was certain: this is something we will never forget for as long as we live.
“They say the zashiki-warashi is quite hard to meet,” I said to my son.
“That’s because the camera flash is too bright. They just want to live normally, like they used to.”
I don’t know what to make of it. But it felt as though he understood something. That night, without another word, I put down my phone and we went back to our room.
After we returned home, the strange heaviness in his shoulder eventually faded. But even now, as I write this — if I use the flash in our house, orbs appear.
I hold no particular faith. I have no interest in the spiritual as a hobby. And I certainly don’t have psychic powers.
And yet — this trip left me with the quiet conviction that within the natural world, there are presences we simply cannot understand.
Coming here with the children while they were still young, and feeling what we felt — I think it will stay with us for the rest of our lives.
In life, I think there should be moments like this — where you close your eyes, listen carefully, and let yourself be held by nature. Something inside you grows richer for it.
Thank you so much for reading to the end.
— fin —
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