One thing I love about the stories in Shokoku hyakumonogatari is that they can be so specific about the locations these stories take place. Some of them go right down to the neighborhood, street, and even extremely specific places. It makes them feel more real and close to us when you can literally visit and stand in the spot these events are said to have happened in.

This story in particular takes place very near my home, at a temple called Eiheiji. It’s an important place in Fukui, for sightseeing and historically. Knowing this story takes place there, and that the other locations mentioned in the story are real places, really adds some weight to the tale.

The Novice Monk at Eiheiji in Echizen

At the Zen temple Eiheiji in Echizen Province, there was a young and beautiful novice monk. One day he visited the capital to see all of the famous and historic sights. On his trip back home, he stopped at an inn. A woman was lodging at the same inn. Upon seeing the beauty of the young novice, she waited until nightfall and then slipped into his room and started to flirt with him.

At first the monk resisted the woman, but after all he was a living, breathing person, and in the end they slept together.

When dawn broke, he looked over at the woman lying next to him. She looked to be a priestess about 60 years old, with snow-white hair, and an appearance that was utterly repulsive. The novice monk was completely turned off. The woman looked back at him and said, “Wherever you go, I will accompany you.”

And so, she followed him from inn to inn, sleeping in his bed at every stop. The novice was troubled. He wondered just how much his masters would punish him if he brought a woman back with him to the temple.

“I am exhausted today. Let’s stop here,” he lied to the woman. Then, when she slept, he crept out into the night. He made it as far as Shirakicho.

When dawn broke, the woman was horribly upset. Since she was a priestess, she took out her prayer beads and used them to divine the young monk’s whereabouts. She followed him all the way to Shirakicho, where she asked around if anyone had seen him. In the end, she found him crouched down in a hollowed-out tree trunk.

“Well, well, well! You cold and heartless person! You will take me with you for as long as you have life!”

There was nothing the monk could do to stop her. “Fine. Let’s go then.”

They went together to the river and boarded the ferry boat. Halfway across, he pushed the woman off of the boat and into the river. He finished the crossing alone and then hurried back to Eiheiji.

By the time he returned to the temple, he was utterly exhausted. He collapsed in the large reception hall and fell asleep.

When his master entered the reception hall, he saw a 30-meter-long giant serpent trying to swallow the sleeping novice. Suddenly, the young monk’s family heirloom Yoshimitsu-forged sword magically leaped out of its scabbard by itself, flew through the air, and slashed at the serpent, chasing it away.

The master gently woke the sleeping novice up, but he said nothing about what just happened. Then he secretly swapped the novice’s heirloom blade with a golden sword that a recently deceased parishioner had donated to the temple, taking the Yoshimitsu for himself.

Soon after, the snake returned. Because the young novice no longer had the Yoshimitsu sword, the snake easily tore him into pieces and gobbled them up.

Since it was the master’s fault the young novice lost his life, all of the people scorned and mocked him after that.

Our yōkai tonight is another bōrei, or ghost, although not in the traditional sense of a spooky white dead person who hunts you down and kills you. This story tells more about the lingering effects a ghost might have on an area, and how customs have been built up around them.

One notable feature of this story is the outfit the woman wears while swimming. In order to keep her candles from snuffing out in the water, she ties them to her head like a hat. This is very much a familiar allusion to ushi no koku mairi, a powerful curse that vengeful scorned lovers sometime place on their former partners. It adds a bit of dramatic imagery to the story.

The Woman’s Bōrei from Mihogasaki, Suruga Province

This is a story from Suruga Province. A love story, between a man from Kiyomidera, and a woman from Mihogasaki.

Every night the woman would visit the man, swimming the six kilometers across Suruga Bay from Mihogasaki to Kiyomidera, wearing candles on her head to light her path. The man would light a fire at Kiyomidera every night to show her the way.

However, as the months as years passed, the man began to wonder why the woman would swim across the bay just to visit him every night. These thoughts scared him, and he became convinced that she was not human. Feeling afraid, one night he decided to douse his signal fire.

The woman swam out into the bay and looked for the fire, but she could not find it. She swam from place to place searching for it, but finally she grew week and drowned in the sea. Her bōrei could not find peace. Eventually it located the man, then possessed and killed him.

It is said that the woman’s bōrei still haunts the area. Whenever a fire broke out at Kiyomidera, a fire also broke out at Mihogasaki without fail. And when a fire burned in Mihogasaki, Kiyomidera would catch fire as well.

Since then and to this very day, whenever there is a fire at Mihogasaki, the people light a bonfire at Kiyomidera, and if there is a fire at Kiyomidera, the people of Mihogasaki burn fires too. Both sides copy each other’s fires.

I was told this story by a boatsman when I visited the shrine at Mihogasaki several years ago.

Today’s story deals wit another henge—a generic term for a yōkai animal that shapeshifts to trick people. Henge are often kitsune or tanuki, but they can also be mujina, itachi, or just about any other animal. This story reveals two clues about henge and how to identify them: one is that they have round hands. This is of course an allusion to the shape of the animal’s paws. The other is that after dying, a henge will return to its animal form. If you kill a person who was actually a shapeshifting animal, they will turn back into that animal when they die.

Sugiyama Hyōbu of Dewa Province’s Double Wife Disaster

There was a samurai from Dewa Province named Sugiyama Hyōbu. One night his wife went out the back door to use the outhouse, returned a little while later, and went to bed. A short while later there was a knock on the door.

“Who’s there?” asked Hyōbu.

His wife’s voice answered. Hyōbu was perplexed. He opened the door to let her in. Then he lit a lantern and inspected the two women closely. They were identical to each other in every way. He was even more perplexed.

When morning came, Hyōbu put both of his wives to work in different areas of the house. No matter how he tested them, there was no difference between them at all. He continued to scrutinize them, to no avail, when finally, someone told him:

“A henge will always have round hands, like paws.”

So Hyōbu inspected both of his wives’ hands. As it turned out, one of the wives’ hands were slightly round! Surely she was the henge. So Hyōbu immediately cut her head off.

Unfortunately, that one turned out to be his actual wife.

Therefore, the other wife must surely be the henge! Hyōbe went to cut off her head too. She tried everything to stop him, begging, lamenting, and cursing him, but he did not listen. He cut off her head.

But upon close inspection, this one turned out to be his actual wife.

Hyōbe was completely perplexed. He left the wives’ corpses out for a few days, but neither one changed at all.

Such strange things do happen, don’t they?

There are many nuanced ways to describe ghosts in Japanese. The most common words are obake (which means “changed thing”), yūrei (“faint spirit”), and onryō (“grudge spirit”). Tonight’s story uses the word bōrei, which appears several times in Shokoku hyakumonogatari. The word literally means “dead spirit,” and simply refers to the spirit of a person who has died. It might even be preferable to simply translate bōrei into English and say “ghost” instead, but whenever possible I like to preserve the Japanese names of supernatural creatures; so I left it as-is.

Tonight’s story mentioned Ariwara no Narihira; a name which is probably unfamiliar to most English-speaking readers, but which would have been instantly recognizable to an Edo period reader. He was a legendary poet and playboy from the Heian era. His name is synonymous with the idea of a beautiful, seductive, young man, much in the same way Don Juan and Casanova are used in English. His name has appeared in yōkai stories before.

The Monk Who Met a Bōrei in Shimotsuke

Long ago, a celibate monk was traveling to Shimotsuke Province for ascetic training. The sun was setting, and there was no inn to be seen anywhere for some distance, so he decided to spend the night in a field. He was reciting sutras and prayers, when he heard the faint sound of a flute coming from out nowhere.

The monk thought it was strange to hear a flute out here, so far from any village, and so he grew a little afraid. He chanted his prayers even louder, but as he did the sound of the flute drew closer and closer. Then he saw a boy of about sixteen, with such sublime features that the monk wondered if the legendary Ariwara no Narihira of antiquity looked something like this.

The monk was increasingly perplexed as to how a person like this could appear in the middle of a field in the middle of the night, and he figured it must be a henge of some kind. He was chanting the Shingon darani prayer, when the boy said to him:

“Father, why are you all alone in such a place as this?”

The monk replied, “Night fell as I was traveling, and I was about to spend the night here. What kind of a man are you to come to such a place?”

The boy looked over the monk, and said to him, “I can see that you must think I am a henge. I assure you am absolutely no such thing. I have merely come here to play my flute, and to comfort my heart on this clear moonlit night. Please fear me not. Let me accompany you back to my mansion and give you a place to stay.”

The monk was concerned, but he thought that if this was a henge, it wouldn’t leave him in peace if he stayed here in the field. So he got up and accompanied the boy some distance, until they arrived at a large castle.

They passed through two, then three gates. They crossed a moat and passed deeper and deeper into the back of the castle, until they reached a beautifully appointed room.

“Come inside,” the boy said.

He served the monk food, followed by tea and refreshments.

Then the boy went into the next room and politely said, “You can rest peacefully here. I always sleep in this room. You must be exhausted from your journey.”

The monk grew more and more suspicious. Unable to sleep, he stayed up for the rest of the night until dawn broke. In the morning, a crowd of castle guards burst into his room.

“Who is this strange monk, and how did he sneak into our castle? Arrest him and torture him!”

The monk was startled. “Please wait a moment! I can explain,” he said. Then he told them everything that had happened the previous night.

As the men listened to the monk, they became astonished. Some of them burst into tears. When the monk asked them why, they replied:

“Here is why! The young lord of this castle died of an illness only twenty days ago. He was only fifteen years old. He always loved playing his flute, so we made an offering of a bamboo flute and placed it upon his altar where we prayed for his soul. Now it seems that the young lord’s bōrei honored you by inviting you into his room. Please, you must stay here for some time and perform memorial services for his lordship!”

The men explained everything to the lord of the castle, who agreed to retain the monk, and they treated him to a great feast.

Tonight’s story is about a katawaguruma, although the original illustration found in Shokoku hyakumonogatari more closely resembles a wanyūdō. It just goes to show that the names and definitions of yōkai are not set in stone, and vary from place to place and time to time.

The Katawaguruma of Higashinotōin, Kyōto

Long ago, there was a monster called a katawaguruma who, every night, would travel up and down Higashitōin Street in Kyōto. People were so afraid of it that they stayed inside after nightfall.

A certain person’s wife decided that she wanted to see this monster. One night, she peeked through her lattice window. Sure enough, just past midnight, she heard the sound of a single wagon wheel rolling through the streets. With no ox pulling it, and no people around, the wheel rolled towards her. Looking closer, she saw that hanging from the wheel was the severed leg and crotch of a human being.

The woman was shocked and afraid. Then the wheel spoke to her in a human voice: “Oi, woman over there! Instead of looking at me, you better go inside and look after your own kid!”

The woman was horrified. She ran inside and found her three-year-old child torn in half from shoulder to crotch, with the other half nowhere to be seen. She screamed and cried, but the child did not respond. The leg and crotch hanging from the wheel was that of her child.

This happened to her because she wanted so badly to see something monstrous.

Many of the tales in Shokoku hyakumonogatari have story elements that are found in other famous folk tales. This book was published in the 17th century, but it was certainly influenced by earlier stories from previous eras. And surely it also influenced later stories as well. So it’s hard to know in many cases which story came first, or which one influenced which. Suffice it to say that a lot of successful scary themes are repeated over the years in different stories.

Tonight’s story is a good example of that. You may be familiar with the tale of Hōichi the Earless, whether from Lafcadio Hearn’s book Kwaidan or the the movie based on it. It is certainly a creepy, impactful story. Well you’ll find some similar elements in this one, specifically the power that the Lotus Sutra has in rendering a living person invisible to ghosts. By writing the Lotus Sutra upon one’s naked body, the ghost will perceive you as a Buddhist prayer stick, or perhaps not even at all. You had just better hope that no body parts are left out!

The First Wife’s Revenge and The Miraculous Power of the Lotus Sutra

In the village of Chichibu in Musashi Province there lived a man named Ōyama Hannojō. One day while he was out in front of his house, a traveling monk on a pilgrimage passed by. The monk took one look at Hannojō and said, “You are possessed by a female mononoke. It will not be long before she takes your life.”

Hannojō was startled. “Please come inside,” he said to the monk and invited him into the house.

Hannojō offered his hospitality and explained, “I am embarrassed to talk about this. You see, a while back my first wife died in childbirth, and I only recently took a new wife. However, whether it’s a dream or reality I don’t know, but lately my former wife has been visiting my bedside night after night and waking me up. How can I put her spirit to rest?”

The monk listened to this, and replied, “I thought so… From the moment I saw you I could tell that such a mononoke was haunting you. I will banish it for you.”

The monk stripped Hannojō naked and wrote the Lotus Sutra all over his body. Then he stood him in front of his wife’s grave.

“No matter how terrible things may get, you must not breathe heavily,” warned the monk. Then he left.

The grave was up a mountain, far from the house. The night was a dark and lonely. A monkey cried on a distant peak and an owl called out from the pines.

Around 4 am, a rain shower passed overhead. Then, Hannojō’s first wife emerged from a crack her the gravestone. Her breath was ragged and painful. She sat down right on top of Hannojō. She was followed by a little girl of about two years old, who crawled around on the ground.

“Look! I found papa’s feet!” said the child.

The straw mat that Hannojō was wrapped in to keep warm had scrubbed away the portion of the scripture the monk had written on his feet.

The woman became excited, but when she looked closer, she said, “These are no feet! This is a prayer stick!” And she fled in fear.

Before long she reappeared, holding a lantern in her left hand. She picked up the child in her right, and then she headed in the direction of Hannojō’s house. By the time she drew close to the house, her lantern had gone out. Hannojō watched from afar, frozen in fear, wondering what horrible thing she would do to him if he were at his house.

After some time, she returned to the grave. In her hand she was carrying Hannojō’s new wife’s severed head. She sat down on top of Hannojō like she had done before. Then she turned to the little girl and said, “Well, I was planning on killing your father tonight, but he seems to have gone somewhere else. Oh well, this will have to do for now. I have achieved my goal of many years. When I was alive, this woman cursed me, and even in death the pain was unbearable. But now I am happy that I could kill her in this way.”

With those words, the mother and the child re-entered the grave, and the dim light of dawn could be seen in the sky.

Tonight’s tale uses us the generic term “bakemono” in the title again. However, within the story the original text uses the word kijin—鬼神 meaning oni goddess—to describe her appearance. I made the rare decision to translate kijin into English (as “demon”) rather than leave it in Japanese because in this case the text is talking about her appearance rather than her actual identity.

Kijin is a tricky word. It can refer to several types of supernatural creatures. Extremely powerful oni, like Ōtakemaru, are called kijin. They are like “gods among oni.” It can also refer to Buddhist deities with terrifying, demonic appearances. Although these kijin look monstrous, they are not evil creatures at all; they are “demonic-looking gods” who fight ignorance and fight fiercely for humankind’s salvation.

Tonight’s bakemono is neither of those. Since this particular bakemono haunts a grave, we can be sure that she is not a Buddhist goddess here to save mankind. She also does not seem to be a creature from hell here to hurt people. Since she appears in a burial mound, very likely she is the ghost of an ancient noblewoman. When she takes the form of a demon, this illustrates that she has been corrupted by jealousy or attachment and transformed into a terrifying monster rather than passing on peacefully to the next life.

The Bakemono of the Twin Mounds of Rendaino

In Rendaino in Kyōto, there are two ancient burial mounds separated by about 220 meters. Every night at one of the mounds, mysterious fires were seen every night. At the other mound, a terrible voice could be heard saying, “Come! Come!” Everyone who heard the voice was terrified, and after sundown nobody would go anywhere near the mounds.

One stormy night, a group of young men gathered together and said. “Is there anyone among us brave enough to go visit the bakemono at Rendaino this night?”

Among them was one man, strong of body and stout of heart.

“I will go,” he said, and he left.

The night dark and the rain was pouring. It was a dreadful night. Yet, he was a brave man, so he ventured to one of the mounds.

As usual, a voice called out:

“Come! Come!”

The man replied, “Who are you, calling out like this each night? Show me your true form and speak to me!”

A woman of about forty with a sickly pale face stood up out of the mound and said, “There’s no particular reason I call out like that. Now, please take me to that mound over there.”

The man was afraid, but he was prepared for something scary to happen, and so he calmy hoisted the woman up onto his back and took her over to the other burial mound. He put her on the ground and she entered the mound. Then the inside of the mound began to rumble.

A moment later, the woman took the form of a terrible demon, eyes shining, body covered in scales, and dreadful beyond compare.

Then she said to the man, “Take me back to the original mound.”

The man thought he must be insane, and that surely he would be killed, but he put her back on his back and carried her back to the other burial mound. The demon was pleased. She entered the mound, and a moment later returned in the form of a woman.

“Well well, nobody is as brave as you! I am so happy that my wish has finally been fulfilled!” she said, and she gave him a small bag filled with something heavy.

The man, feeling as if he had just narrowly escaped death, hurried back to his friends. He told everyone what happened and showed them the bag. Inside was one hundred gold coins!

After that, nothing strange ever happened again at the burial mounds.