I’m on vacation in Tokyo with my adopted family. My adopted family do not exist in the real world, and are simply made up by my subconscious (my brain seems to be doing that a lot lately). My adopted father is a tall white man with a full beard and a brown cowboy hat. My adopted mother is a small South Korean woman who doesn’t appear very often. A little blonde haired girl is also with us. I assume she is also adopted.
We’re staying in a modest, two bedroom house that is almost stereotypically Asian in its decor. I mean, yeah, it’s Japan and all, but come on. My adopted parents have left the house early. Apparently, my real father has tracked me down and is looking for me. They, at my request I am later told, go out to find him and make sure he doesn’t find me. It seems that in the time I haven’t seen him, he’s become a wanted fugitive, which could mean bad things if he got his hands on me. How they plan on stopping him, I don’t know. In the meantime, it is just me and this girl, who I presume is my adopted sister?
We wander around this house. It seems that it’s her first time here, as well. We’re looking at various Edo-era paintings and ridiculous architecture, when it hits me: I remembered being told that strange things happen in this region of Japan. All sorts of bizarre, scary paranormal happenings. I begin to think that this house may be haunted. Terrified, I run to my “sister,” calling out her name (I don’t remember her name). She turns to face me. Her face is now painted, in exquisite detail, in traditional Kabuki stage makeup. An entire covering of white, with blue lines coming together at the bridge of her nose. I scream.
Later, some friends and I are in a rose garden, hiding from angry, blade-wielding ghosts in the form of elderly Japanese women.