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One day, somebody asked me, ‘Hitori-san, if you went into Junji Ito’s world, especially Uzumaki, what would you do?’ And I laughed. Because imagine this: a whole town screaming, running from spirals, and then here I come — a man in a white hat saying, ‘Oh, look! Free spinning decorations. Must be festival season!’
You see, when people get scared, they forget the obvious: everything is just energy. A spiral is energy moving in style! If you treat it like a curse, it becomes a curse. But if you say, ‘Wow, thank you spiral, you look like soft-serve ice cream!’ suddenly, the curse gets embarrassed. Horror melts faster than ice cream on a summer day.
They wanted to see me panic. But the truth is, fear has no grip on someone too busy laughing. I tell people, if the universe ever throws you into a horror manga, don’t fight the ghosts. Tell them a joke, give them candy, and ask if they want to join your fan club. Even monsters love to laugh, they just don’t admit it!
(Note: This is an imaginary conversation, a creative exploration of an idea, and not a real speech or event)
Scene 1: The Town Possessed by Spirals
The town was silent, too silent, as though the air itself had stopped breathing. The sky loomed heavy with black clouds, coiling and twisting into vast spirals that reached across the heavens. On the ground, ponds rippled in tight circles without wind, smoke from chimneys curled into perfect coils, and walls seemed to sweat with spiral stains that shifted if one stared too long. Everywhere, the spiral lurked.
The people of the town walked quickly, eyes averted, as if avoiding eye contact with the very world around them. A woman clutching groceries whispered, “The spirals are alive… they’ll take us all.” A child crouched on the roadside, drawing endless spirals in the dirt with a stick, his lips moving silently, as if reciting a prayer. Fear was not loud here—it was dense, pressing against ribs and lungs, suffocating.
And then, cutting through this suffocating air, came a laugh. Light, cheerful, almost musical. A man in a white hat strolled into the town with the relaxed gait of someone out for a walk on a spring morning. That man was Hitori-san. His smile glowed brighter than the sun slipping behind the spiral clouds.
He stopped, hands tucked in his pockets, gazing up at the sky. “Well, well, what a sight!” he chuckled. “Spirals in the clouds, spirals in the smoke, spirals on the walls! You folks must have hired the world’s busiest artist. Spirals everywhere! This place looks more festive than a summer matsuri.”
The townspeople froze. A stranger? Smiling? Joking—in this cursed place? An elderly man shuffled forward, his voice quivering.
“Sir… don’t jest. The spirals—they’ve bewitched us. We can’t escape them. Anyone who stares too long… loses themselves.”
Hitori-san tipped his hat slightly, hiding his eyes in playful shadow, and laughed softly.
“Bewitched, you say? My friend, a spiral is just a circle that decided to dance. Circles sit still. Spirals move! That’s not a curse, that’s personality! Look at ramen—without a nice naruto swirl, it’s just soup. Spirals make it fun!”
There were nervous chuckles, but also a few gasps of shock. How could this man take lightly what they feared so deeply?
A mother holding her young daughter whispered, “How can he smile in a place like this?”
Hitori-san turned to her, his expression gentle.
“Because smiling is the strongest charm, young lady. Fear feeds on fear, but fear starves when you smile at it. Watch and see.”
He walked casually to a crumbling wall where a spiral stain throbbed faintly, like a living eye. People gasped and pulled back, warning him not to go closer. “It will consume you!” someone cried.
Hitori-san leaned close, studying the spiral as though it were a painting in a gallery. Then, with a polite bow, he said cheerfully:
“Thank you, spiral, for showing us such energy. You’re really good at swirling—keep up the good work!”
The townsfolk stared in stunned silence. Had he just thanked the spiral? The pattern pulsed once, ominously… and then stilled, or perhaps it was only their imaginations. But stranger still was what followed: a laugh. A child giggled. A teenager snorted. Even the weary mother hiding her daughter’s face cracked a smile.
Hitori-san straightened, brushing dust from his sleeves. “See? The spiral didn’t eat me. It just wanted recognition. Everything in this world—even curses—just wants to be seen. If you fear it, it grows scarier. If you smile at it, it softens. Try it sometime.”
The people exchanged looks, unsure whether to trust him. But for the first time in weeks, maybe months, there was laughter in the air of the cursed spiral town. And laughter, they realized, was a sound the spirals could not swallow.
Scene 2: The Boy’s Obsession
Down one of the narrow streets, where even the houses seemed to lean inwards like eavesdropping neighbors, a boy stood frozen in front of a wall. His face was pale, lips dry and cracked, his eyes wide and unblinking. On the wall before him was a spiral, faint at first, then darker toward the center, as if it had been burned into the plaster by some invisible hand. The boy’s breathing came in shallow bursts.
“The spiral,” he whispered. “It’s calling me. I can’t… I can’t look away.” His fingers twitched as though wanting to reach out and trace the endless curve, to lose himself in its pull.
People gave him a wide berth. They had seen this before—how fascination with the spirals became addiction, how addiction became madness. Some shook their heads and hurried past. Others crossed themselves or muttered protective prayers. Nobody tried to help him. Fear had taught them to abandon anyone who stared too long.
But then came the sound of footsteps, steady and unhurried. Hitori-san, in his white hat, ambled up the street as if out for a pleasant walk, humming a cheerful tune. He stopped beside the boy, tilting his head.
“Oh-ho! What’s this? A wall drawing? Well, young man, you’ve got quite the art exhibit here. If we put a frame around it, we could probably sell tickets. The ‘Great Spiral Museum of Japan!’”
The boy flinched but didn’t look away. “I… I can’t leave. It’s pulling me in. I’ll disappear. I’ll be swallowed whole.”
Hitori-san’s expression softened. He rested one hand lightly on the boy’s shoulder. “Disappearing, huh? Sounds scary. But let me tell you a secret. You can’t get swallowed by something you laugh at. Fear gobbles up the weak, but laughter gives it indigestion.”
The boy blinked. “Laugh… at it?”
“Exactly!” Hitori-san leaned closer to the spiral, cupping his hands around his mouth as if addressing an old friend. “Hey spiral, thank you for trying so hard today! You’ve been spinning all night, haven’t you? Must be exhausting. Take a break sometime, will you?”
The crowd gasped. Speaking to the spiral was unthinkable. Some even turned away, expecting Hitori-san to collapse into madness on the spot. But nothing happened. In fact, something did happen—but not to Hitori-san. The boy’s trembling slowed. His breathing steadied. He tore his eyes away for the first time in hours, looking up at the smiling man beside him.
“It… it doesn’t feel as strong now,” the boy whispered, bewildered.
“See?” Hitori-san said, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Fear is like a salesman—it only wins if you let it talk your ear off. Say ‘thank you’ and shut the door, and it goes away.”
A ripple of nervous laughter spread through the onlookers. A woman covered her mouth. A man shook his head in disbelief but grinned despite himself. The boy, still shaky, laughed once—an awkward, cracked sound, but laughter nonetheless.
“That’s it!” Hitori-san encouraged. “The spiral isn’t your enemy. It’s just a pattern. A little swirly doodle on the wall. You’re the one who gave it power. And now you’ve taken it back with a smile. Pretty good, huh?”
The boy nodded, his eyes filling with tears—not of fear, but of relief. He bowed clumsily, whispering, “Thank you, sir… thank you.”
Hitori-san waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t thank me, thank yourself. You remembered how to laugh, and that’s worth more than any magic charm. From now on, if a spiral tries to scare you, just wink at it and say, ‘Better luck next time!’ That’ll really confuse it.”
The crowd erupted into chuckles and laughter. For the first time, the oppressive silence of the cursed town cracked wide open.
And as Hitori-san tipped his hat and walked on, the boy followed his figure with wide eyes. For the first time in days, he looked away from the spiral without fear—and saw that hope could spiral too, upward and outward, brighter than any curse.
Scene 3: At the Center of the Spiral
The old well in the center of town was not just a relic of the past—it had become a place of dread. Its stone rim was cracked, and moss clung to the edges like green veins. The water at the bottom was no longer still but churned in a violent, endless spiral, roaring as though the earth itself were growling. The sound carried across the town square, a low, unsettling drone that made even the bravest shiver. People avoided the well, skirting wide around it, whispering warnings to children never to look inside.
On this day, a crowd had gathered at a safe distance, staring in silent fear at the spiral below. A dog barked once and then whimpered, backing away. A man muttered, “That thing is the source. The curse comes from there.” His words spread quickly, passed from mouth to mouth, until everyone looked at the well as though it were the beating heart of all misfortune.
Then came the unmistakable sound of calm footsteps. Hitori-san, in his white hat and casual stride, walked right up to the well as if he were approaching a vending machine to buy a soda. People gasped and hissed warnings.
“Don’t go near it!”
“It will drag you down!”
“You’ll be lost forever!”
But Hitori-san only chuckled, waving their fears away. “My, my, you folks act like this is some great monster. It’s just a puddle doing a little dance! Spirals in water—what else is new? I’ve seen toilets more frightening than this.”
The crowd froze, torn between horror and the ridiculousness of his words. A few even covered their mouths to hide nervous laughter.
Hitori-san reached the rim of the well and peered down, hands on his knees like a curious child. The spiral below churned with furious energy, the roar vibrating up the stone walls. It looked alive, hungry. Most would recoil in terror. Hitori-san straightened his back, put his palms together, and bowed respectfully.
“Hello down there! You’re working hard today. Swirling, swirling, swirling all the time—must be tiring! Thank you for keeping the water moving. Without you, it’d just sit there and get smelly. So really, you’re doing us a favor.”
The crowd gasped. Speaking to the spiral was madness. Some turned away, expecting to hear his scream as he was swallowed whole. But no scream came. Only the steady hum of the spiral and the cheerful voice of Hitori-san.
He went on, “But listen, my friend, all work and no play makes even a spiral grumpy. You don’t have to roar so loud. Take a break! Even whirlpools deserve a day off. Remember, it’s okay to swirl gently now and then.”
For a moment, it seemed impossible—but the spiral did slow. The roar softened, and the water swirled more quietly, almost as though the well itself had heard his request. The townsfolk’s eyes widened. Some fell to their knees, whispering prayers. Others simply stared at Hitori-san as if he were performing a miracle.
Hitori-san turned and winked at the crowd. “See? You just have to talk to it nicely. Fear makes things louder, but gratitude makes them calmer. Same with people, same with spirals. Try shouting at your kids, they scream louder. Try thanking them, they settle down. Life is simple like that.”
A ripple of laughter spread through the crowd. It was tentative at first, then stronger. The weight that pressed down on their chests seemed to lighten, even if only for a moment.
The old woman from before, clutching her cane, whispered, “How… how is he not afraid?”
A child beside her answered, beaming, “Because he smiled at it. And it smiled back.”
Hitori-san tapped the brim of his hat, as if to signal his work was done. “Now then, friends, remember this: even the darkest whirlpool can’t pull in a heart that’s light. Stay bright, and you’ll float on top. That’s how the universe works.”
And with that, he strolled away from the cursed well, leaving behind not silence, but something far stranger for the spiral town: hope.
Scene 4: The Girl with Spiraling Hair
On the edge of town stood a lonely house, its windows shuttered against the spiral sky. Inside, muffled sobs echoed through the darkened rooms. A young girl sat hunched in the corner, her hands clutching at her head as tears streamed down her cheeks. Her long black hair had grown wild, not just long but alive, twisting into endless spirals that coiled and writhed like serpents. Strands slithered across the floor, curling around chair legs, climbing the walls, tugging at the girl’s body as though trying to devour her.
“I can’t… I can’t control it!” she cried. “It won’t stop. It won’t leave me alone!”
Neighbors whispered about her condition, calling it another symptom of the curse. None dared to enter, for they feared the spirals would leap from her hair and wrap around their own bodies, dragging them into madness. So the girl remained alone, fighting a battle she could not win.
That is, until the door creaked open, and in stepped a figure in a white hat, smiling as though he were arriving at a friend’s party. It was Hitori-san. His glow seemed to push back the gloom in the house, and the writhing hair paused for just a second, as if startled by the cheerfulness of his arrival.
“Well, well!” Hitori-san said, clapping his hands once. “Look at that! Most people spend thousands of yen at the salon to get curls like yours, and here you’ve got them for free! If you walked down a runway right now, Paris would call you the Spiral Queen of Fashion.”
The girl blinked through her tears, shocked by his words. “You… you don’t understand! This isn’t fashion. It’s a curse. My hair wants to strangle me. It won’t stop until I’m gone.”
Hitori-san tilted his head, the brim of his hat shading his eyes. “Ah, curses. People throw that word around like soy sauce. Too much, and it drowns the flavor. Listen, young lady—your hair isn’t your enemy. It’s just showing off! It’s saying, ‘Look at me, I can twist and twirl better than anybody!’ You have to thank it for its enthusiasm. Gratitude softens everything, even a bad haircut.”
The hair writhed again, spiraling tighter around her shoulders. The girl whimpered, tugging at the strands. “How can I thank something that’s trying to kill me?”
“Simple!” Hitori-san laughed. He walked closer, raising his hand toward the living spirals. “Watch this.”
He looked at the hair as if addressing a lively puppy. “Hey there, you’re really working hard today, huh? Spinning and twisting, putting on such a dramatic show. Thank you for your energy! But listen, you don’t have to strangle this poor girl to prove your talent. How about showing the world your beauty instead? You could make her the star of every fashion magazine. Do that, and I’ll clap for you every day.”
The room fell silent. The hair froze, as though considering his words. Then, slowly, the spirals loosened. They still writhed, but less violently, curling instead into soft loops that shimmered in the faint light.
The girl gasped. “It… it stopped hurting me. How?”
“Because you changed how you looked at it,” Hitori-san said gently. “Fear tightens knots, gratitude unties them. Try it yourself. Say, ‘Thank you, hair, for being so unique.’ Go on.”
Her lips trembled, but she whispered, “Th… thank you, hair.”
The spirals curled softly around her like ribbons, no longer constricting but decorating. She touched the strands with cautious fingers, then let out a laugh—small, but real.
The neighbors peeking through the window gasped. Some crossed themselves, others muttered in disbelief. But one woman whispered, “He… he tamed the curse.”
Hitori-san waved toward them with a grin. “Not tamed—just taught it some manners! Remember, folks, the world isn’t out to get you. It’s out to get your attention. And if you thank it, suddenly the monster becomes a teacher, the curse becomes a gift.”
The girl, now smiling through her tears, bowed deeply. “Thank you, Hitori-san… You saved me.”
He tipped his hat, hiding his smile in shadow. “No, young lady, you saved yourself. I just reminded you to laugh first.”
And with that, he walked back out into the spiral-haunted town, leaving behind not screams, but the sound of a girl’s laughter—something the town hadn’t heard in far too long.
Scene 5: Words That Embrace the Entire Town
By now, the curse of spirals had spread across every corner of the town. It was no longer just on walls or in hair—it was in the sky, in the earth, in the very air people breathed. Buildings twisted, trees curled in unnatural arcs, and even the wind whistled in circular patterns that drove people mad. The townsfolk had reached their breaking point. Families hid in their homes, trembling. Shops were abandoned. At night, screams rose as more victims were claimed by the endless whirl of terror.
In the town square, a crowd gathered, desperate and hopeless. Mothers clutched their children, old men wept, and the young stared blankly as if their spirits had already been consumed. A whisper moved through them: There is no escape. The spiral will take us all.
And then, as though summoned by the heaviness of their despair, came a different sound—a steady, cheerful laugh, like a bird singing in the middle of a storm. The people turned.
There he was. Hitori-san, standing tall in his white hat, his figure glowing faintly in the spiral-lit gloom. He walked calmly into the center of the square, tipped his hat politely to the crowd, and clapped his hands together as if calling a meeting of friends.
“Well, well! What long faces you all have. You look like you’ve just seen the bill after eating too much sushi! Come on now, a whole town full of beautiful spirals, and not a single smile? That’s like getting free fireworks and complaining about the noise!”
The crowd stared in stunned silence. A few gasped, others whispered nervously, but a handful smirked despite themselves.
Hitori-san spread his arms. “Listen carefully, everyone. These spirals? They’re not here to destroy you. They’re here to train you. To see if you can laugh even when the world is spinning out of control. Anyone can smile at a sunny sky. But it takes real strength to smile at a storm!”
A woman cried out, “But they’re swallowing us whole! They’re eating our lives!”
Hitori-san wagged his finger playfully. “No, no. Fear is what eats your life. Spirals are just shapes. You’re the ones feeding them with your terror. But if you laugh? If you say, ‘Thank you, spiral, for reminding me how strong I am’? Well, then the spiral starves, and you win.”
His words hung in the air, absurd and yet strangely comforting. The people shifted uneasily, caught between disbelief and the sudden warmth of hope.
A little boy clutched his mother’s hand and whispered, “Mama, he’s funny.” The mother, exhausted, let out a laugh—quiet, nervous, but genuine. That laugh rippled through the crowd like a spark catching dry grass. One by one, others chuckled, then laughed louder, until the square rang not with screams but with laughter.
The spiral clouds above seemed to pulse in confusion, as though the curse itself had not expected such defiance.
Hitori-san bowed deeply. “Ahh, there it is! The strongest magic in the universe—human laughter. You see, my friends, the spiral wanted you to spiral down. But now you’re spiraling up! Gratitude, joy, laughter—they’re spirals too, but ones that lift instead of sink. Choose which spiral you live in!”
The people clapped, some even cheered. The atmosphere shifted. Though the spirals still loomed, the town no longer felt entirely lost.
At the edge of the crowd, an old man wiped his tears and whispered, “How… how is he not afraid?”
A child answered with shining eyes, “Because he smiles. And he makes the spiral smile too.”
Hitori-san tipped his hat once more, his face hidden in its shadow, his smile radiating in his voice. “Remember this, everyone. Fear will always knock at your door. But you don’t have to invite it in. Instead, serve tea to joy, gratitude, and laughter. That’s the only company worth keeping.”
And with that, he walked off into the swirling streets, his laughter echoing behind him. For the first time, the town felt lighter—not free of spirals, but free of despair. And that, in the end, was the spiral Hitori-san left behind: a spiral of hope winding upward into the sky.
Final Thoughts
So after visiting Ito’s spiral town, people asked me, ‘Well, Hitori-san, what did you learn?’ And I said, ‘Simple. The scariest thing in the world isn’t spirals, ghosts, or curses. It’s forgetting to smile.’
Spirals spin round and round, but so do opportunities, fortunes, and happy coincidences. If you fear the spin, you miss the ride. If you laugh at the spin, you get the prize at the end.
So my advice? If you ever find yourself in Junji Ito’s world, don’t bring garlic, holy water, or charms. Bring a good sense of humor. That way, no matter how scary it gets, you’ll always leave with the biggest spiral of all—joy swirling right in your heart.
Short Bios:
Hitori Saito
A Japanese entrepreneur, best-selling author, and spiritual teacher known for transforming fear into laughter and gratitude. In this crossover imagining, he brings light and humor to the cursed town of spirals, showing that even horror can be met with joy.
Junji Ito
The creator of Uzumaki and one of the most renowned horror manga artists in the world. His signature blend of surreal body horror and cosmic dread makes everyday shapes like spirals into symbols of inevitable doom.
Kirie Goshima
The main heroine and narrator of Uzumaki. A high school girl caught between love, family, and the horrors consuming her town, she represents resilience amidst the inescapable spiral curse.
Shuichi Saito
Kirie’s boyfriend, deeply troubled by the spirals from the start. His warnings and paranoia make him both prophetic and tragic as he is slowly consumed by the same fate he fears.
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