by Hiroko Yoda
Cause of death: Drowning
Type of ghost: Jibakurei
Distinctive features: Dressed in traditional fishing clothing
Place of internment: Isawa River
Location of haunting: Isawa River
Form of Attack: Incessant Manifestations
Existence: Historical
Threat Level: Low
Claim to Fame
Ukai means “cormorant fishing”: the art of catching fish using trained waterfowl. Ukai Kansaku was one of these intrepid water-men, but his unfortunate choice of fishing waters led to his untimely demise — and return as a ghost.
The Story
Nichiren knew something was wrong the moment he set foot into the tiny hamlet.
The Buddhist monk had travelled far and wide through the countryside, ministering to those in need. On his various stops he had confronted illness, violence, even death, many times before. But he’d never seen anything quite like this. At the peak of the afternoon, the village paths were deserted, its shabby little homes shut tight, the nearby Isawa River quiet when it should be filled with the sounds of children, washer-women, and fishermen going about their daily lives.
Puzzled, the monk wandered from home to home and down to the riverbank. Fishing skiffs of the sort used to carry ukai fishermen and their birds sat on the banks, empty and disused, their nets in desperate need of repair. Had plague come to the area? Or was some villain threatening them with harm? Returning to the village, he caught sight of wary eyes peeking from cracks between boards, heard faint whispers inside the homes. So people did live here. What on earth had put the fear into them? Nichiren was determined to find out.
Explaining his calling, he asked why they shut themselves in at the height of the day. He learned that what struck terror into their hearts wasn’t weather, plague, or war. It was a ghost. A ghost that refused to leave.
The Attack
According to the village elder, the ghost would rise from the water, prowl the vicinity, gurgling and moaning, its horribly waterlogged countenance terrifying anyone who caught sight of it. Nobody likes coming face to face with a ghost, but in a country filled with far more terrifying creatures, the villagers’ desperate attempts to shut the spectre out seemed like overkill to the curious monk.
Nichiren made a beeline for the tributary where the ghost most often appeared. He sat upon the banks and meditated, waiting for it to show itself. He didn’t wait long.
Yoshitoshi’s portrayal of the drama unfolding on the riverbank. 1885 woodblock print.
Nichiren addressed the ghost directly. What he learned from the spirit was the village’s darkest secret — the story of a brutal murder.
The ghost’s true name was Taira Tokidata, born an aristocrat and raised a warrior. His family line had long ruled all of Japan. But a bitter struggle erupted between the Taira and a rival clan called the Genji.
The Taira maintained a precarious grip on the throne until the 1185 Battle of Dan-no-Ura. The brutal confrontation all but wiped the Taira off the face of the map. Tokitada numbered among a handful of survivors.
It was often customary for new rulers to dispatch the followers of the old. Yet luck was with Tokitada yet again. During the battle, he had been charged with protecting a sacred mirror, one of three pieces of Imperial regalia used to confer legitimacy upon the emperor. Rather than flinging himself and the mirror into the sea, he quietly handed it over to the victors. In return, Yoritomo, leader of the Genji and soon to be Shogun, spared Tokitada’s life, sentencing him to banishment rather than death.
Once a member of the upper crust, Tokitada was now reduced to eking out a life of poverty. Fortunately, as a boy he had learned the ways of ukai — how to select, catch, and train cormorants to fish for him. Now the vaguely remembered childhood pastime would prove to be his lifeline.
Taking a new name, Kansaku, he began wandering the countryside in search of a new life. After many days, he spotted a particularly promising tributary and loosed his birds. Almost at once a posse of locals appeared. They were furious that the interloper had violated their village’s greatest taboo: fishing in a holy stretch of river where the taking of any life, even that of an insect, was forbidden.
Kansaku pled ignorance and begged forgiveness. But the mob would not be swayed. They viciously beat him, wrapped him tightly in a straw mat, and threw him into the chilly waters of the river, whereupon he sank like a stone. It hadn’t been a pleasant death, or a just one, and that is why he now found his soul compelled to stay.
Upon hearing the sad tale, Nichiren could only shake his head, unsurprised at yet another example of man’s cruelty to his fellow man. However little the villagers deserved relief, the least he could do was devise a way to release Kansaku from his bondage to the physical world.
Nichiren was a fervent believer in the power of the Lotus Sutra (and in fact would go on, later in life, to establish an influential sect of Buddhism based around it.) He began gathering rocks from the riverbank. One by one, he painted each with a single character from the sutra and tossed them into the waters that marked Kansaku’s watery grave, some seventy thousand characters in all.
Nichiren neither ate nor rested for the three days and three nights it took him to complete the sutra. When he had finished, Tokitada/Kansaku appeared one final time, proffered his thanks, and departed to the spirit realm.
Surviving An Encounter
This is a ghost that needs your help. Situations like this aren’t about personal safety, but rather in guiding a lost soul to a better place. Remain calm. Sit and listen. At the very least, you might hear an interesting story. And who knows — you just might unravel the problem that’s been binding a spirit to the material world.
LEGACY OF A HAUNTING
Several of the actual stones Nichiren pitched into the river are on public display in an ornate container at Ukaisan Onmyo Temple (left). It is located in Yamanashi Prefecture, an hour and a half west of Tokyo by train. Both the temple and the river where Kansaku met his demise are a short walk from Isawa Onsen station, accessible via the JR Kaiji express from Shinjuku station.
Sad Spectres: 15
MIYAGI
Sad Spectres: 15
MIYAGI
Name in Japanese: 宮木
Origin: “The Weed-Choked House” from Ugetsu Monogatari (Tales of Moonlight and Rain)
Gender: Female
Date of death: ca. 1456
Cause of death: Heartbreak
Distinctive features: Soot-darkened skin, unkempt hair, exhausted, sunken eyes. Otherwise, no indication of ghostly features
Place of internment: Unknown
Location of haunting: Mama Village (Currently Ishikawa, Sakura City, Chiba Prefecture)
Form of Attack: None (see below)
Existence: Believed to be fictional
Threat Level: Low
Claim to Fame
The tragic tale of the peasant Katsushiro and his faithful wife Miyagi isn’t the first example in Japanese literature of a conjugal visit from the hereafter. But it is the most well-known.
The Story
Katsushiro’s family had long eked out a living from the paddies in their village, but the backbreaking labor of rice-farming never quite suited the restless young dreamer. After inheriting the fields from his long-suffering parents, Katsushiro slept late, ignored his crops, and generally managed to drive his remaining family to the brink of ruin before hitting upon a scheme to revive his fortunes. Enchanted by the romance and potential riches of a wandering life, Katsushiro sold off the family’s rice plots one spring, purchased a quantity of plain silk, and made preparations to leave for the far-flung capital of Kyoto.
In spite of his lackadaisical ways and sagging fortunes, Katsushiro had prospered in marriage: his wife Miyagi was a woman of uncommon beauty and intelligence. Unconvinced of the wisdom of selling off the fields — an asset with a humble but virtually guaranteed return — she begged and pleaded with her husband to abandon his plan. But this was medieval Japan
, and a man’s home was his castle. The stubbornly determined Katsushiro dismissed his wife’s concerns with a promise to return before the autumn leaves fell.
In the capital, Katsushiro was able to sell all of his cloth for a tidy profit. Perhaps he had found his calling after all! But then came a development Katsushiro couldn’t possibly have anticipated: a fracas broke out between rival war-lords, with the losing side’s forces retreating into the very province in which his village stood. Before long, civil war raged across the country, cutting off travel to vast swaths of the countryside.
Back in the village, Miyagi anxiously awaited the return of her husband, but autumn came and went with no sign of Katsushiro. The following year proved even worse for traveling, as marauding gangs swarmed into the region’s now-lawless towns and cities. Besieged by a mix of smooth-talking suitors, soldiers, and bandits eager to make the acquaintance of an apparently single woman, faithful young Miyagi barricaded herself in her home with rapidly dwindling supplies to wait… and wait… and wait. It would be seven long years before the conflict eased and Katsushiro was finally able to make his return.
Even knowing of the battles that had raged throughout his home-land, Katsushiro regarded the devastation that now surrounded him with a mix of awe and horror. The village’s bridge had collapsed into the river. Once well-trod footpaths were obscured by high weeds. The handful of ramshackle dwellings still standing looked nothing like those he remembered, and bore family names he’d never heard. He was only able to identify his own by the sight of a large pine tree that stood on his property, though it had been ominously riven in two by a lightning strike. Yet his heart leapt to see his old house, standing beside the tree as always, apparently undamaged. There was even a flickering light in one window — his wife Miyagi was home! Katsushiro’s heart began to pound as he approached the door.
It slid open before Katsushiro even managed to compose his thoughts. Miyagi stood before him, still beautiful in spite of bedraggled hair, worn clothes, and grimy skin. Wordlessly the pair embraced, the still air punctuated only by the sounds of their sobs. Inside, Katsushiro explained what had taken him so long. He had attempted to return years earlier, but had been robbed of his money and possessions by bandits along the way. He had no choice but to return to Kyoto, where he lived as a beggar, scrimping and saving the money he needed to make the long journey home. The couple talked through the night. And when the hour grew late, Katsushiro and Miyagi laid down together as husband and wife for the first time in seven years.
The Attack
Early the next morning, after the soundest sleep he’d enjoyed in years, the gentle drip of water on his face awakened Katsushiro. Through the clouds, he made out the waning moon shining beautifully overhead. Wait a second … where on earth was the roof? Katsushiro sat bolt upright on what had been a thick futon when he slept. Now he found himself in a decrepit room, its roof torn clean away to reveal the elements. Weeds poked through the crevices of shattered plaster walls and emerged from between the sodden seams of the rotting tatami mats. Hurrying to a window, he threw aside the skeleton of a shoji screen, its paper long since turned to dust. The house garden, once filled with carefully tended rows of herbs, was a labyrinth of twisting vines.
Forget the roof. Where was his wife? Plunging into the remains of his home, Katsushiro called out for Miyagi again and again. Back in the bedroom they had shared, he noticed the floorboards in one corner had been pulled up. Peering into the space, he saw what appeared to be a tiny burial mound sitting atop the earthen foundation. And before it, speared upon a sharpened stick, was a tiny scrap of stained paper with faded lettering. Plucking off the note, Katsushiro found a poem in the unmistakable handwriting of his wife:
Believing he would soon return
deceived by my heart,
I lived on, until today.
Later Katsushiro learned that Miyagi had died many years previously.
Surviving an Encounter
Your life isn’t in any danger from a yurei such as Miyagi’s. But you certainly can’t discount the emotional shock of realizing just how badly you screwed up by leaving your wonderful wife behind and galavanting off in search of riches. What were you thinking, man?
Really, this tale is more of a moral allegory than a horror story. The bottom line: always remember the consequences of your actions upon your loved ones here — or prepare to face them in the hereafter.
Trivia
Director Kenji Mizoguchi chose this episode as the focus for his theatrical version of Ugetsu Monogatari, which debuted in 1953. It is widely considered one of the classics of Japanese film. It won the Silver Lion Award for Best Direction at the Venice Film Festival that year, and continues to top best-of lists even today. The film’s title was shortened to just Ugetsu for foreign markets.
FOXY PHANTOMS: This encounter bears a deceptive similarity to that of a kitsune, the fox-like yokai fond of mimicking the appearance of beautiful women.(See Yokai Attack!). The best method for discerning between phantom ladies of the yokai and yurei variety is to follow Katsushiro’s example and look for a burial mound nearby: the presence of human remains is a strong indicator of a yurei.
Sad Spectres: 16
AME-KAI YUREI
Sad Spectres: 16
AME-KAI YUREI
Name in Japanese: 飴買い幽霊
Gender: Female
a.k.a. : The Candy-Buying Ghost (literal translation), Kosod ate Yurei (“The Child- Rearing Ghost”)
Occupation: Mother
Born: Unknown. Probably Late 16th century.
Date of Death: 1599?
Age at Death: Teens — early twenties (estimated)
Cause of Death: Poverty
Type of Ghost: Kosodate Yurei
Distinctive Features: Apparently normal, if impoverished young woman
Place of Internment: Daioji Temple, others
Location of haunting: Matsue, Kyoto, others
Form of Attack: N/A
Existence: Fictional ??
Threat Level: Low
Claim to Fame
The Candy-Buying Ghost is one of Japan’s most famous ghost tales. The single most well known version hails from the city of Matsue, as related by the legendary folklorist Lafcadio Hearn.
While there isn’t any particular date associated with the Candy-Buying Ghost, it isn’t set in modern times. The bare bones of the story — pun intended — are believed to hearken back to “Records of Yi Jian,” a thirteenth-century Chinese text that’s something like a Grimm’s Fairy Tales for Song-era China. It contained a story about a “RIce Cake Buying Ghost” that bears many similarities to the later Japanese tale.
The Story
Late one evening, a certain candy shop had long since closed its shutters for the day when a knock came at the door. The shopkeeper, an elderly man who had served the community for years, was surprised to have a caller at such a hour — normally, the shop’s young customers would all be tucked in bed with their families by this hour.
He was even more surprised when he opened the door. Standing before him wasn’t a child but a grown woman, and a beautiful one at that. Even stranger was her outfit: white from head to toe, a color usually reserved for funeral ceremonies.
Apologizing for bothering him after hours, the woman begged the shopkeeper to sell her some candy. All she could afford was one sen worth — a trifling sum even by medieval standards, but the shopkeeper for his part was happy to oblige and wrapped up a single rock-sugar candy for her. Thanking him profusely, the mysterious woman turned and disappeared into the night. For the following five days, the same scene played out like clockwork. The late-night knock on the door. The woman in white. The single sen exchanged for a piece of cheap candy. The departure into the darkness.
The shopkeeper’s interest was piqued by this strange after-hours activity, but he wasn’t sure what to do. The woman dressed strangely, but she seemed polite enough. And she certainly wasn’t doing anything wrong; she was even paying him f
or his product. But something was definitely up. The only question was what.
His answer came on the seventh day. By then the shopkeeper had come to anticipate the nightly knock on his door. But things were different this time; that much was obvious from the downcast expression on her face. She had spent her last sen, she said, but desperately needed another candy. Could he spare just one more for her? “It will be the last time I bother you,” she sobbed. Fortunately for her, the shopkeeper was a kindly sort. He didn’t even think twice before handing over a piece of candy, gratis. And once again, the woman turned heel and began receding into the twilight.
A vintage sen coin. Six of these buys you passage to the underworld.
Kind he may have been, but incurious he wasn’t. Letting a few moments pass to build up enough distance between them, the shop-keeper slipped out and began to follow the strange woman.
Down the road he followed her, and around a corner. The path took her away from the residential area. In fact, it seemed to be leading into the local temple. Sure enough, the woman in white ducked through he side-entrance at the temple’s gate. The shopkeeper scurried ahead and slipped through after her. She wasn’t headed for the temple proper, but straight for the cemetery. In the dead of night. With candy. Why on earth?
The shopkeeper wasn’t exactly the sort who enjoyed prancing through a dark graveyard, but he’d come too far to turn back now. Peering from around a headstone, he caught sight of the woman again, pausing by a certain grave. Was she leaving the candy as an offering? Just then, she inexplicably turned to look at the shop-keeper, fixing him with her gaze. But he’d been quiet as a mouse! The old man went white as a sheet, his body frozen in terror.