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

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

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

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

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

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.

Coming Soon: A-Yokai-A-Day 2024!

Hey everyone! It’s the end of the September, and that means Halloween season is almost upon us! Personally I think that all of September should just be called Halloween Eve, but I’ll make do with a month-long celebration of horror as I do every year, with A-Yokai-A-Day!

For those of you unfamiliar with A-Yokai-A-Day, it’s a project I started in 2009 to celebrate traditional Japanese horror, yokai, ghost stories, kaidan, etc. Early on, I introduced specific yokai on this blog — a project which eventually evolved into yokai.com and my own yokai encyclopedias. In recent years I’ve translated longer epics, Edo period supernatural comics, and short ghost story collections. For the past two years I’ve translated stories from Shokoku hyakumonogatari, a collection of spooky and weird tales (kaidan) published in 1677.

This year I’ll be continuing Shokoku hyakumonogatari, and by October 31st I’ll have translated 93 out of 100 of the stories in this book! You can catch up on stories 1 through 62 in my blog’s A-Yokai-A-Day archives here: 2022, 2023.

And if you feel so inclined, please feel free to join me in celebrating Japanese folklore this Halloween season by sharing your own yokai stories, sketches, paintings, and anything else using the hashtag #ayokaiaday!

Don’t Miss the KaiKai Yokai Festival!

Exciting news!

This fall, I’ll be part of the KaiKai Yokai Festival at Toei Kyoto Studio Park in western Kyoto! I’m both serving as an advisor to the event, as well as participating as a vendor during several weekends this fall, and I am super excited to be part of this festival!

One of the most common emails I get both here and at yokai.com are questions about yokai-related events, festivals, or locations to visit while people are touring Japan. Usually I have to give the unfortunate answer that, while yokai are everywhere in Japan, unless you go to one or two specific museums, or come at precisely the right time for one of a handful of specific festivals, you’re not likely to get to experience yokai culture in such an exciting or flashy way. It’s especially painful for people who want to see the big Kyoto Mononoki Ichi night parade, but will only be in Kyoto on the wrong weekend for the event.

This fall, however, you don’t have to worry about that, because every weekend is yokai weekend at the Edo period samurai film theme park! If you love yokai, and want to participate in the world’s most exciting yokai festival, this is your chance!

Uzumasa film studio is one of my favorite places to visit hands down, just because I love walking through the actual movie set that the theme park is built on. The atmosphere is wonderful, and the actors are entertaining. Afterwards you can go watch old samurai flicks and see the very set pieces you just walked through!

This collaboration between the film studio and Kyoto’s incredible yokai art group Hyaku Yō Bako is a dream come true for yokai lovers. So if you’ve got any plans to visit Japan this fall, make sure the KaiKai Yokai Festival is on your must-do list!

Check out the official website for more details: toei-eigamura.com/yokai

See you there!