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(My Wife Draws) A-Yokai-A-Day: The Bakemono That Lived in the Pond on Lord Mori Mimasaka’s Estate

Posted on October 8, 2023 by Matt

Well, my elbow has swollen up from the break and it was too painful to paint today. I’ll likely be out of commission for another day or two as well. My wife felt bad that I would be leaving you all without a painting for a day or two, and so she painted a picture for today’s story. I will come back and update this post later this month with my own illustration, once I am able to paint again. For now, I hope you enjoy the story and my wife’s illustration.

Today’s story talks about a bakemono who creates several creepy illusions. It’s hard to tell what kind of bakemono this might be… it starts out with the ghost of a child, which is always terrifying, and ends with a pair of kage onna. Lord Mimasaka’s mysterious death a year later seems tacked on, but it is implied that merely seeing these apparitions was enough to kill him.

Almost like viewing the cursed Ring tape, only instead of seven days it takes a whole year?

The Bakemono That Lived in the Pond on Lord Mori Mimasaka’s Estate

There was a small canal in back of the estate of Lord Mori Mimasaka, and sometimes a young child would emerge from the canal. Also, sometimes someone wearing a woman’s kazuki would walk back and forth around there.

One time, while Lord Mimasaka was holding an evening gathering with his attendants, the shadow of two women with their hair down walking back and forth could be seen projected on the walls of the tatami room. Lord Mimasaka thought this strange, and had his samurai walk around the tatami room and search every nook and cranny, but they did not find anybody. All they could see was just the shadows drifting about here and there. About one year later, the lord died.

A-Yokai-A-Day: The Ōbōzu Bakemono at Lord Ogasawara’s House

Posted on October 7, 2023 by Matt

After painting tonight’s yokai, I slipped on the stairs and broke my drawing arm… Which is pretty upsetting on top of being painful. It’s not a terrible break, but it’s enough that it will slow me down for the rest of the month. I don’t think it should outright prevent me from painting though. Maybe one day there will be stories about how an artist got punished by yokai for drawing too many of them…

Anyway, rather than dwell on unfortunate things, that’s look at something even more horrible: tonight’s yokai! This one is called an “ōbōzu bakemono.” Ōbōzu are common figures in yokai lore, although they go by many names, like ōnyūdō, ōhōshi, and others. All of these words mean “giant Buddhist priest.” And of course bakemono just means “monster.”

Why priests are such a common occurrence is a bit of a mystery, but there are several ways to look at it. One is that priests live outside of normal society, close to the realm of the supernatural, and they have that in common with yokai. Temples also had a lot of power in the middle ages and early modern Japan, and so in some ways they were a mysterious force to be reckoned with; just like monsters are. And of course, artists often liked to satirize what they saw around them, especially impious or dishonest priests who did not practice what they preach. Since artists were responsible for designing a lot of yokai, they had the means and motivation to invent all sorts of horrible priest yokai, and these were popular among commoners who also hated the dishonest priests. Even today we sometimes see priests driving porches, or televangelists with personal jet planes. This kind of corruption is universally hated, and its not easy to see how people could turn that into a monster.

I’m not sure why, but the ending of this story always makes me laugh. The climax of this story is brutally violent that it makes the final sentence, with its chilly crotch patting, seem tame and silly by comparison.

The Ōbōzu Bakemono at Lord Ogasawara’s House

During the Keichō era (1596 to 1615), the wife of a certain Ogawasara contracted smallpox at around age 45 and was in critical condition. Lord Ogasawara was in the next room discussing medicine, when a number of ladies came running out of the back room shouting, “How terrifying!”

When Lord Ogasawara went inside to investigate, he saw a giant, black monk towering over the folding screen and laughing at his wife. Lord Ogasawara immediately drew his katana and slashed at it, but the monk vanished.

One night, thinking it would return, he called five or six samurai to stand watch. Just as expected, the monk’s head rose up from behind the folding screen again.

“What are you that can create such an apparition?” he demanded. Then the monk snatched his wife, kicked through the ceiling, and tried to climb out. The samurai grabbed onto her and tried to hold her back, while the monk tried to pull her up through the ceiling. They pulled with such force that the wife was ripped in two, and the monk took her head and left.

Afterwards, for about a year, whenever the lord went to the outhouse, he was often subjected to all sorts of terrible things, such as cold hands patting his crotch, or having the door latch locked from the outside.

A-Yokai-A-Day: How the Mistress of a Certain Man in Kii Province Died and Obsession Brought Her Back

Posted on October 6, 2023 by Matt

Tonight’s yokai is another ghost. However, while yesterday’s was described as a yūrei due to being faint and eerie, this one is much more violent. The story never uses a specific word to describe the ghost; it only refers to her as “the woman” and “the mistress.” Bōrei or shiryō would certainly be appropriate words to describe this ghost, as it is literally a spirit of the dead. Her attachment to her lover brought her back from the dead to be by his side, and he, none to pleased by this, insulted her and tried to kill her. Perhaps if he had treated her more kindly, would he have escaped unscathed?

But we already know this man is a scoundrel, for he has the audacity to bring a mistress into his own house night after night by the side door, with no thought whatsoever to his wife. So perhaps he was doomed from the start…

How the Mistress of a Certain Man in Kii Province Died and Obsession Brought Her Back

A certain man was caretaker of the castle at Matsuzaka in Kii Province. He had a mistress, and every night he would call for her by way of the alley side door. This woman always came to him wearing wooden shoes, but after a few years she fell ill and finally died. Afterwards, the man stayed awake at night, remembering what he and the woman had talked about over the months and years.

Then, late at night, he heard the sound of the woman walking in her wooden shoes from the alley side door. He grew suspicious, and he raised the curtain to see the woman, emaciated, with disheveled hair, entering the tatami room from the alley. He looked at her and rebuked her: “Well, well, what a cowardly creature!” The woman briskly came up to the tatami room and glared at him severely. She was about to cross the curtain into the room, when the man drew his sword and slashed at her, and she disappeared without a trace. After that, the man too fell ill and died.

A-Yokai-A-Day: The Yūrei of the Kirishitans

Posted on October 5, 2023 by Matt

Tonight’s yokai is a yūrei, or simply, a ghost. There are lots of ways to say “ghost” in Japanese. Yūrei literally means “faint spirit,” and it is used for ghosts that are dim or hard to see, and tend not to be overtly violent but instead create an eerie atmosphere. Bōrei is another common term which shows up in Shokoku hyakumonogatari a lot, and this just means “dead spirit,” i.e. a spirit of a deceased person, and it is used much in the same way as yūrei.

The subject of this story is a Kirishitan, or a member of the Japanese Catholic community during the 16th and 17th centuries. (The term Kirishitan only refers to Japanese Christians from this era, and is not used to refer to Christians in Japan today.) This sect was eradicated in the 17th century when Christianity was outlawed (the “edict from Edo” mentioned in the story), and the Kirishitans who did not renounce their religion were tortured and executed in extremely brutal ways.

One of the ways in which Kirishitans were executed is alluded to in the story: “hanged upside down.” This is referring to a horrific form of torture in which a narrow, 2 meter deep hole was dug and the victim was suspended by their feet in the hole, so that the tops of their feet were at street level and their heads were deep underground. Normally, in this claustrophobic position, the pressure of the blood pooling in the head would damage the brain and bring unconsciousness in a matter of hours, then death shortly after that. Realizing this problem, the torturers found that if they pierced the temples or just behind the ears, the victim would bleed constantly and the excess pressure would be relieved, allowing them to suffer much, much longer. After death, the victims would be burned and buried in mass, unmarked graves, causing extra suffering for their families by making it impossible to give them a proper funeral.

The yūrei in this story are searching for bones — perhaps their own, or perhaps those of a loved on — to try to help them rest in peace. It’s eerie and sad, and the historical setting (and especially the rare subject of Kirishitans) makes it very interesting among kaidan.

The Ghosts of the Kirishitans

There was a Kirishitan sect in Tsu, Ise. By an edict from Edo, these people were hanged upside down, executed, and afterwards their bodies were burned in a place called Otobe.

Two or three days later, at dusk, a few samurai were passing by a place called Furukawa when they saw a beautiful woman dressed in a kazuki accompanied by a maidservant carrying a bag. Women like her were never seen in Ise, so the samurai wondered where she had come from, and quietly followed her. The woman headed towards Otobe, and when she reached the pit where the Kirishitans had been burnt, she solemnly picked out the bones. Two or three more women appeared out of nowhere and also began collecting bones, and then after a while they all disappeared.

A-Yokai-A-Day: The Attachment of Saigō Iyo’s Wife

Posted on October 4, 2023 by Matt

Tonight’s tale takes place in Gōshū, which is another name for Ōmi Province, or what is today Shiga Prefecture. Sawayama is in what is now Hikone City, however the castle in this story is not the famous Hikone Castle, but a different one known as Sawayama Castle. It no longer stands today, but you can visit its ruins.

The last sentence of this story threw me for a loop, and I struggled with how to translate it. It talks about the son of a concubine and “his mother.” However, in this case, the son’s “mother” refers not to the concubine (his biological mother), but to the wife of his father. Technically she would be something like a stepmother, but the original text does not use the word for mother, and instead uses just the word mother. This is because after the son was named Iyo’s heir and inherited his name and title, Iyo’s legal wife became the son’s legal mother. Edo period inheritance, familial relations, and even naming conventions are often confusing. Rather than translate it as stepmother, I decided to leave it as mother as per the original text and explain it here.

Another question is why did praying to Benzaiten fix the problem? Sawayama is near Chikubu Island, home to one of the three most famous Benzaiten temples in Japan. Benzaiten is a powerful goddess in both Shinto and Buddhism. While Benzaiten is a goddess of water and music, she is also said to be a jealous goddess with the power to break up relationships and sever even deep romantic ties. By associating his mother, whose spirit was consumed by attachment and jealousy, with Benzaiten, he was able to exorcise the curse of jealous attachment that was haunting the house.

The Attachment of Saigō Iyo’s Wife

In Sawayama, Gōshū, in the household of a certain member of the Ii clan, there was a man named Saigō Iyo. For three years he lived and worked on the Ii estate, where he enjoyed fooling around with young women. His wife was a deeply jealous person, profoundly wrathful and always burning with jealousy over this fact, and in the end she died of these feelings. She always said, “Where will my longtime passion go? If I die, surely it will come for Master Iyo within a day or two. If it doesn’t, then everybody will scorn and laugh at me.” She had some white chemical stored under her mirror. “When I am in my final days, give me this drug,” she said, and she died not long after that. As was her wish, she was given the drug.

When Iyo returned home from the Ii estate, he gave his wife an intimate funeral. Afterwards, his household shook with the crying of all who were overcome with grief beyond description, and everyone’s faces were pale with sadness.

Three days after his wife’s death, Iyo went to the outhouse. After a few moments the sound of something falling came from within. Everyone was startled, so they opened the door of the outhouse. They found Iyo lying there, killed, with his eyeballs gouged out.

Iyo was succeeded by his son from one of his mistresses. His house was constantly haunted by shaking and rattling, the doors and shōji coming loose and being flung across the rooms by themselves, and other strange things. So the son prayed for his mother to Benzaiten, and afterwards the haunting subsided.

A-Yokai-A-Day: How a Man From Gojō, Kyōto Was Punished For Scraping the Gold Foil Off of a Buddha

Posted on October 3, 2023 by Matt

Tonight’s story repeats some common themes — namely, a problem caused by attachment to material wealth, and snakes being used to represent that attachment. This story is interesting in that the people involved have the chance to make their sin right. At first they try to “outwit” their own karma, which I find very interesting, because it’s such a human, believable thing to try. I love that they halfway doubt the fortune teller at first. And when that fails they ultimately make a sensible, rational decision and choose the lesser of two evils. It’s about as close to a happy ending as kaidan often get.

How a Man From Gojō, Kyōto Was Punished For Scraping the Gold Foil Off of a Buddha
There was a poor oil seller who lived near Aburanokōji Gojō in Kyōto. Somebody told him that there was a golden buddha among the buddha statues at Sanjūsangendō. The oil seller was delighted to hear such good news. He went to Sanjūsangendō, broke off the buddha’s hands and feet, and burnt them to ashes so that the foil on them hardened into lumps of gold. He sold these lumps here and there, and soon he made thirty gold coins. His family became rich, and lived in affluence from morning to evening.

One time, when the oil seller and his wife were sleeping side by side, they felt a strange sensation like something cold touch their bodies. They lit a lamp and saw there were two small snakes. The couple were so startled that they beat the snakes to death, but two more snakes crawled out, and night and day the two snakes refused to leave the couple’s side. They prayed and prayed, but they did not receive any sign.

The couple grew more and more uneasy, so they asked a diviner to tell them their fortune. The diviner consulted his reading, and he asked, “Have you ever made money off of a buddha?” Then the couple confessed everything that they had done, saying that yes, indeed, they had made money off of a buddha. Hearing this, the diviner said, “In that case, if you use the money that you made to create a buddha and donate it to the temple, your curse will end.”

And so, they used half of the money that they had earned to make a buddha and they donated it to the temple. When they did this, one of the snakes went away, but the other one coiled its body around them and would not leave. The couple decided that being alive was the most important thing, and so they used the remainder of their money to make another buddha and donated it, after which the other snake left them. Then they returned to their old life as poor oil sellers.

A-Yokai-A-Day: The Bakemono of Komatsu Castle in Ōshū

Posted on October 2, 2023 by Matt

Before we get to today’s yokai, I’d like to take a moment to point out that both this website and yokai.com are presented ad-free and paywall-free. That’s because I love these stories, and I love having the opportunity to share them with as many people as possible. If you enjoy reading about yokai and Japanese folklore, please consider subscribing to my Patreon, even just $1. It helps pay for web hosting and traffic, and it allows me to share Japanese folklore, year-found and full-time. Plus you can get a lot of cool rewards! Please check out my Patreon and help me continue my work!

Today’s A-Yokai-A-Day comes from Ōshū, another name for Mutsu Province, which is today Fukushima, Miyagi, Iwate and Aomori Prefectures, and a bit of Akita Prefecture. However, Ōshū also sometimes included Dewa Province (now Yamagata and Akita Prefectures), covering the entirety of Tōhoku. The castle in the story, Komatsu, uses the latter definition, and stood in what is today Nakakomatsu, Yamagata Prefecture.

This story is interesting because it features a number of common kaidan tropes: an outhouse; a severed head; and a female monster with ohaguro. The outhouse is a classic location because let’s face it; going to the toilet at night is scary enough, but imagine doing it in an age with no electricity and no plumbing, where wild animals can easily crawl into the toilet, and where weeds and plants spring up from it as well. In cities, you might have a properly boxed-off hut with a rudimentary sewage system in it, but in the countryside often all you had was a large, communal, clay pot out in the fields. Severed heads need no explanation as to why they are scary. As for monsters frequently being female, we can blame this on patriarchal society. It was believed that women were more emotional than men, and thus much more prone to becoming overly emotionally attached to things than men. And as I discussed in yesterday’s post, attachment is the reason people become monsters. So there is a logical, albeit sexist, reason that there are so many female monsters in Japanese folklore. And the black-toothed look of ohaguro is a bit frightening today, but it seems that Edo period readers also found it frightening, considering how often it shows up in monsters.

The story calls this monster a bakemono, which pretty much just means “monster.” It’s a generic term that doesn’t specifically point to any cause. Flying heads are sometimes called nukekubi or rokurokubi, although these necessarily have a body somewhere, and we don’t know if this bakemono does or not.

The Bakemono of Komatsu Castle in Ōshū
Not long ago, there was a samurai who was guarding a castle in a place called Komatsu, in Ōshū. His wife was the daughter of a certain Uwaki. One night, when she went to the outhouse, a woman’s head with blackened ohaguro teeth flew from across the way and grinned at her. She was horrified, but she knew that it would be bad to be defeated by such a thing, and so with her eyes open wide she glared back at the head. The head lost the staring contest, and then gradually flew away from her until it disappeared.

The woman was so happy that she left the outhouse and returned to her room, only to find that the lantern had gone out. She checked the next room, but the lantern in that room had gone out too, and it was pitch black. At that moment, she fainted.

When her husband returned home and searched for her, he found her in another room, lying flat on the floor, breathless and unresponsive. Everybody was astonished. They gave her some smelling salts, and finally she came to her senses.

When they asked her what had happened, she told them the whole story. Afterwards, they built a new outhouse in a new location, and the monster never appeared again.