When I was a junior high student, a small boy fell and died in the local school area. The next day there was an article in the newspaper that called him an “unidentified boy.” Unidentified must have meant he was injured so bad, or that the accident was so bad that they couldn’t tell who he was… at least, that’s what I thought.
A few days later, I heard some more details from one of my friends. The boy who died didn’t live in the area, and none of the kids who were playing with him beforehand had any idea who he was either. Nobody knew his parents, his relatives or his school. We never found out who he was.
The neighbourhood council talked about setting up a small shrine or a Jizo statue for the boy, but despite not understanding the circumstances around his death, they were unsure of what to do, and in the end did nothing. That’s the story my mother told me, anyway.
These days people have been moving out of the area, and over half the buildings and apartments have closed down.