Only 6 days left on the Kickstarter!

For anyone in the Philadelphia/South Jersey region this weekend: I will be giving a presentation on yokai and Japanese ghosts at the Camden County library in Voorhees on Saturday at 4 pm. Admission is free. You can preregister here to save a seat, but you don’t have to pre-register to attend.

I’ll be discussing a couple of interesting and strange yokai, talking about the theme of my next book, The Hour of Meeting Evil Spirits, and telling a few scary ghost stories! I’ll also have some books available, or bring your own and I will sign it for you. I hope to see you there!

Now, on to today’s yokai:

Eritategoromo (襟立衣, えりたてごろも)

Eritategoromo is a tsukumogami (a household item possessed by a spirit) of a kimono. Its name means “the cloth with the standing-up collar,” and it refers to a specific type of kimono — the ceremonial robes of a very high Buddhist priest. Certain priest robes have a very large, triangular collar which goes up the back of the head, almost like a hood but not quite. It is this type of robe which became this yokai — the long collar transforming into a long, pointed nose. (It also sprouted eyes and a beard!)

Eritategoromo is not just any old high priest’s robe. It is actually the kimono which once belonged to a tengu! And not just any old tengu either, but specifically Sōjōbō, the King of the Tengu, who lives on Mount Kurama in Kyoto. Sōjōbō is a fearsome and powerful god, with the strength of 1000 ordinary tengu. He is a master swordsman, and was responsible for training a number of famous legendary heroes of Japan, such as Minamoto no Yoshitsune. Though he is a mountain hermit and great trainer, like any tengu, Sōjōbō has a dark side too; he is said to eat children who come into the mountains alone at night.

Sōjōbō was not always a tengu. He was born a human, and became a very famous high priest. Sōjōbō mistakenly believed that he had reach enlightenment during his lifetime and expected to become a Buddha when he died… however, he was wrong and transformed into a tengu instead. (Tengu, of course, being the classic example of pride, lost virtue, and everything else that Buddhism stands against.) Even as a tengu, though, the proud Sōjōbō continued his priestly training, and continued to wear his extravagant high priests robes. Either because of his his extreme pride, or because of the magical nature of tengu, some spirit became attached to his high-collared priest robes and they became this yokai.

How the eritategoromo came to be known by humans is not known. Perhaps some pious monk braved the vicious tengu clans and climbed to the summit of Mount Kurama and nicked it… Maybe Minamoto no Yoshitsune took it back with him… Or perhaps it sprang to life and ran away on its own… Who knows?

Don’t miss your chance to become part of the best English-language yokai book ever! Join The Hour of Meeting Evil Spirits by Halloween night!

Most yokai stories involve people reaping what evil they sow, or simply just getting screwed over for no apparent reason… Every now and then there is a story about someone who gets a reward for helping a yokai, but it is almost always attached to some twist where he asks for more and more reward and ends up getting screwed over again in the end. Very rarely are there any yokai who just help people… so today I chose one that does just that!

Ouni (苧うに, おうに)

You have to be careful not to get ouni mixed up with the oni. The names look and sound almost exactly the same, but they are very different yokai!

Ouni is a kind of yamauba. While we’ve looked at a few different variants of evil yamauba, including Kurozuka/onibaba, there are also yamauba which can be personable, even downright friendly. Ouni is one of the nice yamauba.

Ouni looks like an ugly old woman with an angry face and a body covered in long, black hair. She appears at houses and huts out in the countryside or up in the mountains late at night. She asks the owners of the house to give her lodging and a meal for the night. If they are kind and invite her in, she stays the night, and during the night she spins an enormous amount of thread for the family, and then vanishes without a trace. In some stories, the owner runs out to thank the old woman, but all he can find are her footprints.

The name ouni comes from 苧 (karamushi), or ramie, which is an East-Asian plant that can be spun into thread and used for textiles. So her name comes from the plant which she spins into thread for her generous hosts. Alternatively, she is sometimes called wauwau, which has no meaning at all but sounds really funny!

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Today’s yokai contains an interesting little etymology tidbit, so make sure you read all the way to the end! I’m sure you’ll find it quite “scary!”

Kowai (狐者異, こわい)

Today’s yokai first appeared in the Ehon Hyakumonogatari, a collection of illustrated ghost stories published in 1841.

Kowai is the ghost of a glutton. Someone who loved food so much that they even ate other people’s portions in life would carry that attachment to food into his next life, transforming into this yokai when he died. Kowai stumbles about towns, rooting in trash bins, digging at carrion, and assaulting food stalls and shopkeepers just to get one more precious bite. It was illustrated attacking an udon stand, and according to yokai researcher Tada Katsumi, this is because the soft noodles are so easy to digest that they go right through you, leaving you hungry again very soon after you eat — very appropriate for this ever-starving yokai!

While this yokai has nothing to do with Buddhism, it strongly echoes Buddhist doctrine, where attachment in life determines which world one reincarnates into in the next life. In Buddhism, those with severe attachments to material goods (food in particular) will reincarnate into the realm of the hungry ghosts, sometimes called preta in English, or gaki in Japanese. The world of the hungry ghosts is awful — you are gaunt, starving, and so blinded by your hunger that you stuff anything you can find into your mouth, making focusing on spiritual pursuits and enlightenment utterly impossible. It is a life of pure suffering and torment, and when your life as a hungry ghost ends, you get another chance to reborn as something else. Kowai is a yokai, so it is not related to Buddhism, but it bears a remarkably strong resemblance to a gaki. No doubt whoever thought it up was influenced by that religious belief; and readers of the Ehon Hyakumonogatari would probably recognize the connection as well.

Finally, IMHO one of the neatest things about this yokai is its name. It is written with 狐 (ko; “fox”) 者 (wa; “person”) 異 (i; “strange”), so could literally be translated as “weird fox person.” Presumably this ghost sniffing around trash resembles a fox. But students of Japanese may also be familiar with the word 怖い (kowai). According to the Ehon Hyakumonogatari, this yokai is actually the origin for the word “kowai“, which is the Japanese word for “scary.” Cool huh? Whether or not this is actually true, I do not know… but hey, if it is written in a very old book, it has to be true, right? Right??

If you liked this yokai, don’t forget to become a supporter of my Kickster project! Only 8 days are left!

Today the Kickstarter pledge level broke 500%, which means that a new stretch goal has been unlocked and five extra yokai will be added to the book! Everybody wins!

Umi-zatō (海座頭, うみざとう)

Umi-zatō is a gigantic, old, blind zatō who roams about the surface of the sea, tapping the waves with his cane. I talked about zatō earlier this month (on the te-no-me entry), but in summary, zatō is a term for blind men from the Edo period who performed one of a few designated jobs — massage and biwa being two of them. Umi-zatō is usually depicted carrying a large sack for carrying a biwa.

Today’s yokai is truly a mysterious one. There are almost no stories about the umi-zatō, and the earliest known paintings of umi-zatō did not come with any descriptions. It is very likely that it is a yokai invented solely for decoration. However, that has not stopped researchers and folklorists from speculating about its nature…

Because there are no stories about umi-zatō attacking people, it was long believed that they were just peaceful old zatō who roam the seas, not harming people. However, more recently, yokai researchers have speculated that umi-zatō is dangerous after all. Because he bears such a strong resemblance in appearance and in name to another yokai called umi-bōzu, it is now commonly accepted that umi-zatō is a variant species of umi-bōzu. Umi-zatō are said to beckon ships at sea towards them, and when the ships get close enough to reach, they flip them over and capsize them. They also occasionally swallow entire boats whole. The chief difference between umi-zatō and umi-bōzu is that the former seems to be a lot more congenial. If your ship does end up being attacked by an umi-zatō, all you have to do is reply to his demands in a polite and docile manner — the umi-zatō will disappear and leave you alone.

If you liked this yokai, don’t forget to become a supporter of my Kickster project!

Tonight my Kickstarter was featured in the Kickstarter-themed podcast at DJ Grandpa’s Crib! You can listen to my interview and hear some extra details about The Hour of Meeting Evil Spirits and other yokai at this link. Check it out!

Sakabashira (逆柱, さかばしら)

It may seem impossible that a pillar in a house could turn into a yokai, but that’s just what today’s yokai is. Sakabashira, literally “upside-down pillar,” is a strange kind of yokai; part tsukumogami, part tree spirit, and part onryō, it is a phenomenon that occurs when a pillar is installed in a house “upside-down,” that is, with the grain pointing towards the floor instead of to the ceiling.

Why would a pillar turn into a yokai just for being installed upside-down? Perhaps the spirit of the tree from which the pillar was carved is angry and having been planted in the wrong direction. Sakabashira appear late at night, causing yanari to appear, shaking the house, and making loud noises like collapsing beams as a manifestation of its urami, or grudge. The family living in such a house may lose their fortunes, or be so creeped out by the terrible sounds that they have to move out. In extreme scenarios, the column can even cause disasters such as large conflagrations. In order to prevent this yokai from appearing, folk superstition tells us that a pillar must be erected in the same orientation as the tree had when it was alive.

It may seem like a simple carpenter’s mistake to install a pillar upside-down, and while that is often the case, sometimes support pillars are actually installed this way on purpose. The famous shrine at Nikko is such an example, having been built with just one pillar purposefully pointing in the opposite direction. The reason for this is another folk superstition: “The moment a house is completed, it starts to fall apart.” (I think we have all experienced something like this with cell phones, cars, or computers — the moment they are paid off or the warranty is finished, something breaks! Same idea.) So, as a kind of ward against bad luck, Japanese buildings were sometimes built only 99% correct, with that final step being a mistake, or just left unfinished. This same superstition was followed when building the imperial palace — placing a single pillar upside-down. During the Edo period a similar superstition was commonly followed by purposefully “forgetting” to place the last three roof tiles on a house. Ironic that in order to prevent bad luck, one must essentially invoke bad luck. I guess the risk of having a perfectly-built house outweighs the risk of having a yokai-infested pillar in your house…

If you liked this yokai, don’t forget to become a supporter of my Kickster project!

If you have trouble sleeping at night, I recommend you don’t read any further, for this yokai strikes you when you are most vulnerable: asleep in your bed!

Makura-gaeshi (枕返し, まくらがえし)

Todays yokai is a variety of zashiki-warashi (of which there are many varieties). Like yesterday’s yokai, it is a bit of a prankster, although occasionally it can do a little more evil than simple pranks. It’s name means “pillow flipper,” and it is named for its primary activity; folks who sleep in a room haunted by a makura-gaeshi often wake up to find that their pillow has been switched and is now at their feet. They also like to run through ashes and leave dirty footprints around the room. For the most part, that is the extent of this yokai, making him a somewhat charming, if annoying, yokai.

However, while most stories about makura-gaeshi present them as harmless pranksters, there are a few stories that describe scarier powers… Some are said not just to flip the pillow, but to actually lift up and flip the sleeping person! Others even pick up the entire tatami mat one is sleeping on and bounce it around.  And others are said to sit on your chest while you sleep and press down hard, squeezing the wind out of you and causing kanashibari, or sleep paralysis. While each region has different variants on the makura-gaeshi, the most dangerous legends hail from Kanazawa, in Ishikawa prefecture, where it is said that someone who sees a makura-gaeshi dies just afterwards!

While having your pillow stolen may seem like a silly way to die, it is connected to ancient folk superstitions and black magic. Long ago, dreaming was believed to be an act very close to death. The human soul fled the body and could travel on Earth or in different dimensions while one slept. Oftentimes special incense would be burned solely for the purpose of traveling to other worlds while sleeping. However, this act is dangerous, as if the body is moved while asleep, the soul will not be able to find its way back to it, and the person will die. Even the mere act of flipping a pillow changes the situation enough that a dreaming soul might not be able to return to the body. (This phenomenon comes up in other yokai tales too, and is even one of the only known ways to kill a rokurokubi.)

As to where makura-gaeshi come from, there are many theories. Often times they are associated with ghosts — particularly the ghosts of children who died in the particular room haunted by the makura-gaeshi. However, many have also been attributed to magical tanuki or saru (monkeys) due to those yokai’s love of pranks, while others have even attributed this spirit to the act of a kasha!

Their appearance also varies. Frequently, they appear in wild costume; either taking the form of a Niō, or else a monk or a samurai. Sometimes they even appear just as young children, too.

If you liked this yokai, don’t forget to become a supporter of my Kickster project!

We’re about 2/3 through the month now, and about 2/3 through the Kickstarter for The Hour of Meeting Evil Spirits! Any day now it looks like we’ll be reaching the 500% funding mark, which means… five extra yokai! Can’t wait to hear what they’ll be? Well, you’ll have to join the Kickstarter project for that!

Yanari (家鳴, やなり)

Yanari are the things that go bump in the night. In the West we might call them poltergeists or gremlins. They come out at night — especially in brand new, wood-construction homes which haven’t had time to be lived in. They bang the floors, bump the walls, knocking things over as they prance about. They are energetic and take their work very seriously, exerting every ounce of their tiny strength to make a chair squeak or a cup fall off of a table. They don’t really do anything bad, but some people might consider their pranks going too far if something precious and delicate gets smashed by a yanari (who is only doing his job, after all!).

Their name is a combination of 家 (house) and 鳴 (to chirp like a bird), so yanari could roughly be translated as “house squeakers” — I think this name is pretty befitting their status. Since the Edo period they have been depicted as tiny little oni (Japanese demons), wearing tiny animal skins and rough-spun tunics, carrying tiny mallets and iron clubs (known as kanebō).

Despite their mischief, they are considered cute and widely adored by Japanese yokai fans everywhere!

If you liked this yokai, don’t forget to become a supporter of my Kickster project!