Tonight’s story talks about a snake who shapeshifts into a man, but this time the Japanese uses the term daija to refer to the snake. This is a trickier word to translate. Daija literally means “giant snake,” but they are often depicted as more than just snakes. Of course we see that they can shapeshift into human form and speak. They are often described as nushi, or guardian deities, of bodies of water. They can also covet humans sometimes and even demand human sacrifices; there are lots of old tales where a young virgin “marries” a daija as a euphemism for drowning her in the lake as a human sacrifice. The term daija can also refer not just to very big snakes, but greater monsters like uwabami or even dragons.
Speaking of dragons… my latest yokai encyclopedia, The Palace of the Dragon King, is now available from the yokai.com online shop, along with restocks of collector’s editions and hardbacks of my other books as well. So check that out if you want even more illustrated yokai!
How Hasegawa Chōzaemon’s Daughter Showed Love to a Crab
In Iyo-Matsuyama there was a man named Hasegawa Chōzaemon. He had one daughter. She was a woman with a beautiful face and a gentle spirit, who composed poems and sang songs, read and studied all of the sutras and holy scriptures, and had a deeply compassionate heart. One time she found a small crab in the wash bucket, and she scooped it up, fed it and cared for it, and loved it for a long time.
There was a deep pond near their estate. The serpent who ruled over this pond became obsessed with the girl and came to her, disguised as a man. He said to Chōzaemon, “I am the serpent who lives in the pond nearby. I have become infatuated with your daughter, so please give her to me.”
Chōzaemon thought that if he said no, the serpent would kill both him and his daughter, but he also did not want to give her to the serpent, so he broke down into tears. His daughter told him, “It is unavoidable. I must lay down my own life to save my father’s. This must be my karma from my past lives. You should give him your answer right away.”
Chōzaemon turned to the serpent and said, sobbing, “I will give you my daughter.”
The serpent was delighted. He set a date for the exchange and then left.
The girl turned to the crab and said, “I have loved you for many years, but now my life is almost over, and I must set you free.” She set the crab down in the grass and it ran away.
When the appointed date came, the serpent came into their garden, accompanied by many snakes, large and small. The horror was indescribable. The girl did not show the least bit of fear, and, carrying a crystal rosary in her right hand and the five scrolls of the Lotus Sutra in her left hand, she quickly went out into the garden.
As she did, perhaps due to the power of the sutra she carried, the snakes all suddenly drew back in fear. Then, suddenly, countless large crabs came out of nowhere and swarmed the garden. They attacked the snakes, grabbing them with their claws. The snakes were so terrified that they all fled. It truly was the power of the sutras, and the depth of the daughter’s compassion, that saved their lives.
