Author Archives: Matt

A-Yokai-A-Day: The Snake from Tōtōmi Province Who Violated a Man’s Wife

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Tonight’s story features a common folkloric theme found in tales around the world: animal-human coupling. Japanese folklore is especially rich with this, featuring tales of humans getting it on with birds, carp, clams, octopuses, frogs, dragons… and of course snakes, as today’s story shows.

My favorite thing about this story is the curse the husband shouts at the snake. Never in my whole life have I heard a curse as glorious as this one, and I can just visualize him stamping up and down, red-faced, steam pouring out of hears while he spouts off this long list of every god he can think of, swearing at these snakes. It’s a profanity of epic proportions, and the reaction of the snakes to it is just perfect. I know I would not want to mess with anyone who can spout off a curse like that at the drop of a hat…

The Snake from Tōtōmi Province Who Violated a Man’s Wife

In a mountain village in Tōtōmi Province there lived a village headman. While he was away on business, his wife went into the bedroom to take a nap. When the husband came home, he went to the bedroom and discovered a roughly 150 to 180 centimeter long snake wrapped two or three times around his wife, their mouths pressed together. When the headman saw this, he struck the snake with his staff and said, “You may just be a beast, but you are a menace to women! I should beat you to death, but just this once I will show mercy and spare you. If you ever do this again I will take your life.” Then he struck at the snake with his staff and drove it off towards the mountains.

The next morning, the headman slept in later than usual, and he awoke to the startled shouts of the men and women in his household, saying “What is this!” The headman got up and saw a 3 meter long snake in the middle of his garden. It was accompanied by a swarm of 30 to 180 centimeters long snakes, so large that there was no space to stand between them, raising their heads and flicking their red tongues.

The headman said, “You may just be beasts, but listen carefully! Yesterday I showed mercy upon one of you who attacked my wife, and now you come to curse me? But even for beasts, you are unprincipled and senseless! I swear by the kami and the buddhas; by the Three Jewels; by the gods of the heavens and the gods of the land; by Brahma, Indra, and the Four Heavenly Kings; by the sun, the moon, and all the constellations, realize what you are doing!”

He lost his temper so thoroughly and he spoke so severely that, starting with the largest one, all of the snakes bowed their heads to the ground and gathered around the largest snake. Then, all of the snakes in unison attacked the snake from the day before and bit it to death, then slithered off into the mountains. They never caused trouble after that.

It is a wonder that the headman was clever enough to avoid this danger, and that the snakes, though mere beasts, were able to listen to reason.

A-Yokai-A-Day: How a Woman’s Obsession Became a Snake in Tōsa Province

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Tonight’s story deals with a common theme in Shokoku hyakumonogatari: obsession. The Japanese word used in these stories is 執心, and it refers to the kind of improper infatuation or devotion that comes from an attachment to worldly things–whether a person, or an object, or otherwise. It’s one of the worst sins in Buddhism; in fact, it is said to be the root cause of all suffering. It’s what powers the wheel of reincarnation and causes life forms to be reborn over and over again in an endless cycle of suffering. So it’s no wonder that it comes up in folklore a lot, and is blamed to be the cause of yokai or other supernatural phenomena.

In this book, obsessive attachment frequently takes the form of snakes or dragons, but it also frequently appears as a ghost of the deceased, or in the form of a mysterious illness. This story depicts it as a snake, and in an almost comical way. The visual of this snake leaping out of the bushes and wrapping itself around the man’s neck over and over made me laugh out loud the first time I read this story.

How a Woman’s Obsession Became a Snake in Tōsa Province

In Tōsa Province there was a man who made his living through hunting. He was 40 years old, and his wife was 45 or 46, but she was famously jealous and she always followed him whenever he hunted. One day when he went hunting, his wife followed him as usual, but she was annoying him so much that he grabbed her, pulled her close to him, and stabbed her to death. At that moment, a large snake came out from the roots of a big tree nearby and coiled itself around the man’s neck.

The man drew his sword and rapidly stabbed the snake, but it kept coming back and coiling itself around him. The man had no choice but to make a pilgrimage to Kōyasan. About halfway up the Fudōzaka slope, the snake let go of his neck and dropped into the grass. The man was so happy that he stayed on Kōyasan for one hundred days, and then, thinking that that was the end of it, he descended the mountain. Halfway down the Fudōzaka slope, the same snake creeped out of the grass and once again wrapped around the man’s neck.

The man was at his wit’s end, and decided to make a pilgrimage to Kantō. He set out immediately, boarded a boat at Ōtsu, and headed out to sea. However, the boat became stuck and would not budge forwards or backwards.

The boatman said, “If anyone among the passengers has any idea what is going on, whatever it may be, speak the truth! Many people are suffering for the sake of one man.”

The man had no choice. He removed the cloth from around his neck and showed the snake to everyone, saying, “Surely this is the problem.” He explained his story to the passengers and confessed his sin.

The passengers were shocked. They scolded the man and demanded, “Get off of the boat immediately!”

“That is all I can do now,” said the man, and he threw himself off of the boat and drowned. After that, the snake uncoiled from his neck and swam towards Ōtsu. The boat arrived safe and sound at Yabase, according to the boatman.

A-Yokai-A-Day: How Sandayū From Chikuzen Province Slept With a Ghost

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Tonight’s story deals with a yūrei, or a ghost. We’ve seen a few horrific monsters so far, but, while there is no shortage of terrifying ghost stories, tonight’s story is more on the eerie side than the scary side. Sandayū is quite lucky, in fact, because just two days ago we had another story about a man sleeping with a ghost, and that one turned out poorly for the main character…

How Sandayū From Chikuzen Province Slept With a Yūrei

There was a merchant from Chikuzen Province named Sandayū. Every year he brought goods to Ōsaka to sell, and he would stop at Amagasaki and stay at an inn called Akitsuya.

One of the servants at Akitsuya was a girl named Sasa, and the innkeeper always sent her to Sandayū’s room to be his companion for the night. This continued for several years, but then for some reason Sandayū did not visit Amagasaki for a long time.

Several years later, he went to Ōsaka and once again stayed at Akitsuya. The innkeeper served him a variety of foods and sake, and then jokingly said, “If only Sasa were here…” Sandayū figured that Sasa must have gone out on an errand, and since it was getting late, he hung his mosquito net and went to bed alone.

In the middle of the night, he thought he saw a person climb into the mosquito net; it was Sasa. Sandayū was delighted and said, “It’s been such a long time! Where were you during the day?”

Sasa replied, “I don’t work here anymore. You must never tell anybody that I came here tonight.”

Sandayū wondered if she quit because she did not like it there anymore, or if she maybe got married. He asked her all sorts of things, but she would not give him any details. So, they spent the night in heartfelt conversation, reminiscing about the past and imagining the future, and before long it was almost dawn.

“It is time for me to go,” said Sasa, and she got up to leave. Sandayū, sad to see her go, gave her a white, single-layer kimono as a keepsake. Sasa thanked him, cloaked herself in the kimono, and then went out the front door.

Sandayū, filled with concern, followed afterwards, and saw her heading west out of Amagasaki. He thought she was headed towards Nishinomiya, but instead she went towards Naniwa, and then by the banks of a river she vanished into thin air.

That morning, Sandayū asked the innkeeper, “Where is Sasa living now?”

“That’s the thing…” replied the innkeeper. “Sasa died of a light illness this past spring. On her deathbed, you were all that she talked about.”

Sandayū was shocked. “Well now, I have a strange story…” he said. And he told the innkeeper what happened the previous night.

The innkeeper was also shocked and said, “Take me to where you saw Sasa disappear!”

So Sandayū took the innkeeper along the same route, and they found the graveyard where Sasa was buried, and the white kimono hanging from her grave. The two men felt a sense of wonder, and they made offerings for her spirit.

Afterwards, Sandayū inherited his father’s position and became a servant of Lord Kuroda Uemon. Nowadays, everybody knows about this.

A-Yokai-A-Day: How Tanba Sarugaku Was Caught by a Henge

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The yokai in tonight’s story is only referred to as a henge. Like bakemono from a few days ago, henge is a fairly generic term for a monster and doesn’t really reference anything specific. The word comes from the word for “transform,” and it is frequently used to refer to monstrous apparitions created by tanuki or kitsune, but is not strictly limited to those either. The licking reminds me of shitanaga uba, but this yokai is a young girl, not an old hag.

Whatever it is, I really like this yokai. It totally creeps me out.The plain and simple way the creature is described as licking the baby away to nothing, like a tootsie roll pop, gives me the shivers. It doesn’t over-describe, where many English-language authors would take the the time to describe in exceeding detail. The way the horror is just limited to one brief sentence leaves so much to the imagination. This one and the bone-sucking monster are perhaps my two monsters in this book.

Also, the ending to this tale is just horrible. It’s so sudden, and so meaningless. Why did this happen? And how do you recover from an experience like this?

Terrifying.

How Tanba Sarugaku Was Caught by a Henge

Tanba Sarugaku, along with twenty or so people including his wife, children, and disciples, were on their way to Kyōto. One night the sun set while they were in the mountains, and they had no choice but to spend the night there. His wife was in the month of childbirth, and that night she gave birth to their child, so they were busy taking care of many things until dawn broke.

As the night gave way to dim light, a woman of around twenty years old passed by. Seeing her, Sarugaku called her over to him: “I don’t know who you are, but your timing is perfect. I hate to ask, but could you please help hold this child for a while?”

She replied, “That would be no problem.”

She took the child in her arms, and everyone was able to get some sleep. The woman began slowly licking the child’s head. When Sarugaku woke up, he gazed closely over at the woman, and noticed that she had completely licked the child up.

Sarugaku was shocked, and he woke up his disciples. All twenty of them got up immediately, but no sooner had they done so when something grabbed each of them out of nowhere and dragged them up into the sky. Sarugaku was left there alone. Then a raspy voice came from the sky: “Take that last man too!”

The woman replied, “I thought I should take him too, but I can’t because he is carrying a fine sword.”

Then the voice from the sky said, “If you can’t take him, then help me! Help me!”

The woman vanished into thin air, and Sarugaku was left dumbfounded. He waited around for dawn to break, but by the time it did, it was already 4 pm.

A-Yokai-A-Day: The Obsession of the Woman from Peony Hall

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Tonight’s story is a variation on a folktale that is famous all over the world. The Tale of the Peony Lantern has been featured in A-Yokai-A-Day before, and also appears on yokai.com. It’s inspired Toriyama Sekien to create the yokai hone onna, who also has appeared in A-Yokai-A-Day before.

This version is clearly based on that story, with a few differences. Instead of a Peony Lantern (牡丹灯; botan dō), we have a Peony Hall (牡丹堂; botan dō); pronounced identically in Japanese. Although the story still roughly follows the same storyline, it’s an interesting change. The ending is basically the same, and it’s so startling that it is clear why this story has remained so popular for such a long time and over such a wide geographical area.

Interestingly, this is also the only story in Shokoku hyakumonogatari that does not take place in Japan.

The Obsession of the Woman from Peony Hall

In ancient China there was a temple called Peony Hall. When a person died, their remains were placed in a box and peonies were painted on its sides, and these boxes were brought to Peony Hall and stacked on top of each other.

One man who lost his wife was so overcome with grief that for many days he went to Peony Hall every night and recited nenbutsu.

One night, a young woman wearing a gong around her neck came to Peony Hall to recite nenbutsu. The man found this strange, and asked her, “Why would a woman come to a place like this?”

The woman explained, “I was separated from my husband by death, and so…”

Then she began to cry. After that, the two of them stood up and wandered together among the graves, here and there, chanting nenbutsu. They returned every night and did the same thing. Eventually they developed deep feelings for each other, and they confessed their love and went back to the man’s house together. After night fell, they were drinking sake and merrymaking, when a neighbor peeked in at them only to see that the man was sitting across from a woman’s skull and drinking with it.

The neighbor was astonished, and the following day he spoke to the man and told him what he had seen. The man was shocked. He waited for evening to come, and when the woman came back, he saw that she was indeed a skull! The man was so horrified that he shut himself in his home for three years, which he spent fasting and purifying himself.

After three years, the man stepped outside for a diversion and tried to catch a small bird. While he was chasing after a sparrow, it flew into Peony Hall to hide. The man was seen following the bird up to the entrance of Peony Hall, but a moment later he disappeared. His servants were astonished. They searched among the boxes stacked up in Peony Hall, where they found a box that was smeared with blood. When they looked inside the box, inside they found a woman’s skeleton gripping the man’s head in her jaws. Though three years had passed, the woman’s obsession caught the man at least.

A-Yokai-A-Day: Learning the Art of War from Yuzuru no Kannon

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Tonight’s story is from Shimōsa Province, which today covers part of Chiba, Ibaraki, Saitama and Tokyo Prefectures, however, the precise location of Sano nor of the Yuzuru Kannon are not known. It’s a strange story in which the main character gets teleported across the country from Shimōsa to Sado in the pursuit of military knowledge.

Today’s story features another chigo (see yesterday’s story) and also uses the term kamuro to describe the person carrying the teacup. Both chigo and kamuro are common figures in Shokoku hyakumonogatari. Kamuro have appeared in other posts on this site, so I’ll refer to them to explain the term.

The tiny man in the cup is hard to figure, as nothing detailed is given about him, other than he is tiny and is carried around in a teacup by a kamuro, and has the ability to grant wishes. Presumably this tiny man is one of the many forms of Kannon, a Buddhist goddess of mercy. The tiny man reminds me of Issun bōshi, a Japanese fairy tale character, but it’s hard to say much else about him.

Anyway, here is the story!

Learning the Art of War from Yuzuru no Kannon

In a place called Sano in Shimōsa Province there was a samurai who excelled in the art of war. In the same province was another man who, one way or another, wished to surpass this master tactician. He had heard that there was a renowned and miraculous holy site called Yuzuru no Kannon deep in a place called Tatebayashi, so he went there and prayed continuously for his wish to come true.

On the third night of his vigil, a kamuro of around eleven or twelve appeared, carrying an indigo-dyed teacup in which sat a person. The person in the teacup said, “If you can defeat this chigo in sumo, I will grant your wish.”

The man wrestled the chigo, but the chigo was stronger than he expected. It looked like he was going to lose. Finally, he managed to grab the chigo, but just as he was about to throw him down, he was thrown down himself.

When he got up, he saw that he was not standing in front of the Kannon statue, but was instead on top of a steep, rocky crag. Surprised and confused, he managed to descend to the base of the crag by clinging to the branches of trees growing out of the cracks in the rocks. Then he found someone on the road and asked, “Which way is Sano?”

The traveler laughed and asked him, “Who are you, and what are you talking about?”

Thinking this strange, the man asked, “What is this place called?”

“This is Sado Province,” replied the traveler. “And where did you come from?”

“I came from the top of this mountain,” replied the man.

The traveler was astonished. “This mountain is called Hokusangatake, and no humans live there anymore. Why have you come down from this mountain? You must not be human!” And he ran away in fear.

Afterwards, the man boarded a ship headed for the eastern provinces and returned to his village in Sano. He was so puzzled that he returned to Yuzuru no Kannon’s village, and the person in the teacup appeared once again.

“Well, well, you are an honest and good-natured person. Therefore, I will grant you your wish,” said the person in the teacup. And he taught the man all of the secret techniques of the art of war.

After that, the man became a renowned tactician. He even mastered the technique of not allowing others to draw their swords, and the technique that, if his arm was ever cut by another’s sword, he would make it so that he was not injured at all.

Until very recently, his child resided in Edo, but I heard that he is no longer able to perform that technique.

A-Yokai-A-Day: How the Power of Sake Overcame a Bakemono

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October has arrived and Spooky Season is upon us! Welcome to another year’s season of A-Yokai-A-Day! Every day this month I will translate, illustrate, and post one spooky Japanese folktale on this site. Feel free to join me in sharing yokai online using the #ayokaiaday hashtag!

This year continues where last year left off: the Edo period story collection called Shokoku hyakumonogatari, or “100 Tales from Various Provinces.” This book was published by an anonymous author in 1677, and is in the public domain. Scans of the book are available online, but the old script and archaic language is difficult to read, so I am also making use of digital OCR tools to transcribe the text, as well as a modern Japanese translation of the book by Shimura Kunihiro.

As far as I am aware, Shokoku hyakumonogatari has never been translated into English, although some of the stories have appeared in other publications. So this may be the first time at least some of these stories have been read outside of Japan!

Tonight’s story takes place at a very famous site in Kyoto, which visitors to Japan may be familiar with: Sanjūsangendō. The story pattern is a famous one, and there are many variations of this one all over Japan, so you may have heard another version of this somewhere else. There are a few words I chose not to translate in tonight’s story, because they don’t have good English equivalents (or I just prefer them in Japanese):

bakemono – a generic term for a monster; tonight’s story never specifically names what creature is responsible for the haunting

rōnin – an unemployed, landless member of the warrior caste; generally not a very respectable thing to be

chigo – an adolescent page boy or acolyte, often dressed and made up to look like a beautiful girl, and often kept in a pederastic relationship with an older man

How the Power of Sake Overcame a Bakemono

People do not go to the Great Buddha of Sanjūsangendō after 4 pm because of the presence of a bakemono. When the emperor heard of this, he put up a public notice declaring that if anyone defeated the monster, they would be granted anything they wished.

A certain drunkard rōnin went before the emperor and declared, “I shall subdue this monster.” Then he filled a bottle gourd with sake, went to Sanjūsangendō and waited in a corner of the hall. Sure enough, in the dead of night, a nearly three meter tall priest, with eyes shining like the sun and moon, reached out and tried to grab the rōnin with its rake-like hands.

The rōnin immediately lowered his head to the floor and said, “Are you the bakemono-sama that I have heard so much about? Please allow me to introduce myself.”

Hearing this, the bakemono let out a dreadful laugh: “Well, well, aren’t you a funny thing. I was going to eat you in one bite, but I’ll hold off for a moment. So, why did you come here?”

The rōnin replied, “I came here for some reason; but Master Bakemono, I have heard that you are able to transform into many things. Would you show me by transforming into a beautiful noblewoman?”

“You are a clever one. I will transform as you wish, and then I will eat you in one bite,” said the bakemono, and then he transformed into a giant noblewoman.

The rōnin replied, “Well now, this is interesting! Could you also transform into a chigo?” And the monster transformed into the form of a beautiful chigo.

“Well that is just wonderful!” said the rōnin. “Next could you transform into an oni?”

The monster became a three meter tall oni and waved his horns around in the air.

The rōnin said, “Master Bakemono, you are a skilled artist! You can transform into anything you wish. But, how about turning into something small like a dried plum?

The bakemono said, “If I turn into a dried plum, will you let me eat you already?”

“You don’t even need to ask!” replied the rōnin.

“Then I will show you,” said the monster. And he transformed into a tiny dried plum and rolled around on the floor.

“What a marvelous transformation! Climb up onto my hand!” said the rōnin, putting out his hand. The plum rolled onto the palm of the rōnin’s hand, and he popped it straight into his mouth, chewed it up, and washed it down with seven or eight drinks from his bottle gourd. Then he scurried away in a drunken stupor.

“I subdued the bakemono!” the rōnin declared to the emperor. The emperor was overjoyed, and he awarded the rōnin a generous fief to rule over. This is truly the power of sake.