Thus we learn how a man, impelled by certain causes, entered religious life and, traveling to a foreign country, was received with honor there. Such, then, is the story that has been handed down.
How a Palace Guard of the Takiguchi Unit Went to Collect Gold During the Reign of Emperor Yōzei (20:10)
Long ago in the reign of Emperor Yōzei,30 a man named Michinori of the Takiguchi unit of the Palace Guard was sent to the region of Michinoku to collect some gold. While he was carrying out this mission, he put up for the night at a place called——in Shinano Province. It was the house of an official of the local government, where he was cordially received. After he had dined and all his other needs had been attended to, his host and his attendants withdrew to another house.
Michinori, on a journey and finding himself unable to sleep, got up and began to wander about, when he happened to glimpse the wife of the official asleep in an adjoining room. She was surrounded by screens and curtains, the tatami were clean and neat, and a two-tiered offertory was placed conveniently by. A faint scent hung in the air, lending a subtle perfume.
Given the rural setting, Michinori was surprised at this. Looking more closely, he could see a woman of twenty or more lying there gracefully, her hair carefully arranged, her forehead clear, and in the rest of her nothing whatsoever out of place. As Michinori gazed at her, he felt that he could never pass up such a sight. And as there was no one around, there was no one to stop him as he softly drew aside the sliding door and entered.
There was no one to say, “Who’s there?” A light had been placed behind the curtain but shone brightly. Although he could not help feeling guilty before the figure of the wife of the provincial official, sound asleep before him, looking at her, he felt a compelling urge to move forward.
He got in beside the figure in the bed, though not without some hesitation. Her mouth was open, and her sleeping face seemed more alluring the nearer he came to it. Michinori was beside himself with delight.
It was around the tenth day of the Ninth Month, and she was lightly clothed, wearing only a single robe of pale lavender twill and dark red trousers, from which exuded a delightful fragrance. Michinori quickly doffed his garments and moved into her arms. For a while, he worked his way closer and closer, taking no notice of her signs of resistance. But all at once he felt an itching sensation in his mara.31 He began to fumble around for it, but all he came on was hair. His mara had disappeared!
In alarm and wonder, he searched here and there, but he could find nothing but hair like that on a head. There was no trace of it! In his terror, he forgot all about the charms of the woman. The woman, observing the alarm and distress of the man, gave a faint laugh.
Michinori, less and less inclined to proceed, thinking it all strange, stealthily rose and returned to his original sleeping place, all thought of venturing abroad abandoned. But then a thought occurred to him, and he called to his attendant whom he was accustomed to working with. Saying nothing of what had just happened, he mentioned casually, “There’s a beautiful woman in there. I’ve already visited her—so it must be your turn now.”
The attendant, delighted, hurried off. After a while, he came back, with a peculiar expression on his face. “So he must have met the same fate,” thought Michinori, and he called to another attendant and sent him off. This one, too, came back, gazing up at the sky with a look of profound dissatisfaction. It went on like this, until he had sent seven or eight attendants, all of whom came back with the same troubled expression on their faces.
While these strange happenings were being repeated over and over, the night came to an end. As Michinori thought over its events, he could not help being delighted by the gracious welcome he had received from his host. But at the same time, there were those extremely strange and unsettling events that followed. He decided to put the whole thing out of his mind, and as the night ended, he and his party quickly got under way.
They had not gone more than seven or eight chō32 when they heard someone calling. Turning to look, they saw a horse and rider coming their way. When he arrived, he turned out to be an attendant from the previous evening, who presented something wrapped in white paper. “What’s this?” asked Michinori, reining in his horse.
“This,” said the man, “is something the provincial official said to present to you. He wondered why you went off without them. As usual, we made preparations for breakfast, but you were in a hurry and went off without them, so we gathered them up and respectfully present them.” Wondering what was in the package, he opened it—to find nine mara, wrapped as though they were matsutake mushrooms.
Startled, he called the others to gather around. Eight attendants, all wondering what was in the package, came to see. There were nine mara, one for each of the group who had lost them. The messenger, having handed them over, wheeled his horse around and made off. At that time, each of the attendants admitted, “Yes—it happened to me, too!” But when they looked, they discovered that their mara were in their usual place. With this, they hurried on their way to Michinoku Province, to which they had been sent to collect a shipment of gold. On their way back, they put up at the same house of the provincial official of Shinano where they had stayed before.
The official, delighted at all the presents of horses, silks, and other items they had brought him, exclaimed, “What’s all this for?” Michinori, drawing close to him, said, “It is a matter of great shame to tell you this, but the time I stayed here before, a most peculiar thing happened. I don’t understand it, and so, shameful as it is, I want to ask you about it.”
The provincial official, having received a great many gifts, spoke out without hiding anything. “When I was young, I served in one of the remoter districts of this province, under an old official who had a young wife. I paid a call on her, lost my mara, and thought it very strange. But I managed to get close to the old man and learned the secret. If you want to learn it, well, you’ve brought me all these presents. So sometime when you are free, I’ll teach it to you.”
Michinori promised that that would be satisfactory, and hurried on his way to the capital with the gold. When he had completed his mission, he returned to Shinano.
He brought with him appropriate gifts that, when presented, pleased the provincial official. “I’ll teach you the best I can,” he said. “But this technique is not easily learned. It takes seven days of intense effort, every day bathing in water. Tomorrow you will begin the process!”
Accordingly, Michinori began the following day, each day cleansing himself by bathing in water. When the seven days came to an end, the provincial official and Michinori, just the two of them, went deep into the mountains, to a place where a large river flowed by. “You must for a long time abandon faith in the Three Treasures,” warned the provincial official, and in various other ways he led him in making unspeakably sinful declarations.
That done, the official said, “Now we must go into the water. Whatever thing comes out of it, be it god or devil, you must embrace it!” With this, the official entered the water.
After a while, the sky over the water grew dark, thunder rolled, wind blew, and rain began to fall, swelling the river. Soon a snake’s head appeared, rising from the water, its eyes flashing like sparks from a metal bowl. Its belly was red and its back was dark blue, sparkling as though coated with a blue sheen. “Clasp what has come flowing down” came the order, but Michinori was so frightened that he hid in a clump of grass.
After a moment, the provincial official appeared. “Well, did you take hold of it?” he asked. “No, I didn’t—I was too frightened!” Michinori replied. “Oh, what a shame!” he exclaimed. “However, this technique is very difficult to acquire. But you can try again,” he said, and Michinori entered the water again.
After a while, a boar appeared, some four shaku33 in length, with tusks stretching out, chomping on stones, fire flying from it, its fur standing on end. It was a most terrifying sight, but Michinori thought, “It’s now or never!” and moved forw
ard and embraced it—to find himself embracing an old rotten log three shaku long.
At that moment, he was overcome by anger and regret. “The first one, too, was probably nothing more than this!” he thought. “Why didn’t I embrace it?”
“What happened?” asked the provincial official, stepping forward.
“I embraced it,” replied Michinori.
“That other technique—the one having to do with losing your mara—you didn’t get that. But you seem to have gotten some other inferior technique. In that case, I’ll explain it to you,” said the official. He told him what it was and then sent him on his way. But Michinori always regretted that he’d never learned the technique that pertained to a lost mara.
After returning to the capital, Michinori entered the service of the emperor. In the office of the Takiguchi unit of the Palace Guard, he was involved in the contention over the burning of the shoes, during which all the officials quarreled with one another like little children. And then there was the case of the old straw shoes that transformed into a three-shaku carp on the serving tray, flapping around as though still alive.
Because of reports of these happenings, Emperor Yōzei summoned Michinori to the Black Door imperial residence, where he was employed. After that, he was chosen from his post at the side bar and allowed to take part in the festival at the Kamo Shrine.
There were persons of the time who disapproved of these moves. Hence the rumors that the emperor himself had for long been practicing arts that differed from those of the Three Treasures. But those who said so were slanderers. These stories were put about by low and worthless members of society, a very serious crime. It is perhaps because of these slanders that rumors have arisen of the emperor’s madness.
As for these rumors of the worship of devils and the disparagement of the Three Treasures: It is difficult to be born a human being, and difficult to encounter a time when Buddhist teachings are in effect. Therefore, to be fortunate enough to be born a human being and at a time when the Buddhist teachings prevail, and yet to cast aside Buddhism and turn one’s attention to the world of devils is like going to a mountain of treasures and returning empty-handed, like embracing a stone and plunging into a deep pool, thereby putting an end to one’s life. Hence it is said that one should never follow such ways!
SECULAR TALES OF JAPAN
The stories in book 25, which focus on warriors, particularly the Taira and Minamoto clans during the Heian period, are arranged in roughly chronological order, foreshadowing medieval gunki-mono (warrior tales). The story “How a Child of Fujiwara no Chikakatsu, Having Been Taken Hostage by a Thief, Was Released Through Words Spoken by Yorinobu” (25:11) belongs to a series (25:9–11) that reveals the wisdom of the military lord Minamoto no Yorinobu. The next story, “How Minamoto no Yorinobu’s Son Yoriyoshi Shot Down a Horse Thief” (25:12), in addition to illustrating the ideal relationship between father and son, demonstrates one of the indispensable skills of the new class of warriors: communicating without words.
Book 26, tales of shukuhō (retribution), gathers stories about strange and extraordinary events from a wide variety of sources, including the life of commoners in the provinces, and attributes the miraculous to karmic acts in a previous life. Book 27, tales of “ghosts or spirits” (reikon), includes stories about supernatural beings—such as demons, foxes, wild boars, and mountain deities—and explores the interaction between the human and supernatural worlds. The volume has been considered the first collection of Japanese kaidan (ghost stories), a popular genre in the Edo period (1600–1867). Two examples are “How the Demon at Agi Bridge in Ōmi Province Ate Somebody” (27:13), which describes the trickery employed by demons and suggests the extent to which commoners of the time feared ghosts, demons, and strange monsters, and “How Ki no Tōsuke of Mino Province Met Female Spirits and Died” (27:21).
Book 28 consists of humorous tales, which encompass characters from every level of society and take place both inside and outside the capital. Two of these setsuwa are “How a Group of Nuns Went into the Mountains, Ate Some Mushrooms, and Danced” (28:28) and “How Fujiwara no Nobutada, Governor of Shinano, Took a Tumble at Misaka” (28:38). The latter, which is noted for its depiction of the zuryō (provincial governor) class, became so famous that it coined a saying (kotowaza): “Wherever the provincial governor stumbles, he snatches a handful of dirt.” The setsuwa reveals the nature of the nobility who went from the capital to the provinces to try to gather as much wealth for themselves as possible. The provincial governor is the object of laughter, detestation as well as awe.
Book 29, tales of “evil acts” (akugyō), covers a wide variety of heinous deeds, particularly robbery and murder. Two examples are “How a Thief Climbed to the Upper Story of Rashōmon Gate and Came on a Corpse” (29:18) and “How a Man Was Traveling with His Wife to Tanba and Got Tied Up at Ōeyama” (29:23), which have to do with a thief and a rapist, respectively. Both stories were used by the novelist Akutagawa Ryūnosuke (1892–1927) as the basis for his short story “Rashōmon” and then by the film director Kurosawa Akira (1910–1998) in a film by the same name. The last part of book 29 contains stories about animals (such as tiger, dog, monkey, and hawk), which appear in this section because one of the “three evil paths” (sanakudō) in the Buddhist cosmology, along with hell and the “sphere of hungry ghosts,” was the “sphere of beasts” (chikushōdō), while some of the stories are about the sin of killing animals.
Book 30 concentrates on tales about waka (classical poetry), some of which are drawn from Toshiyori’s Poetic Essentials (Toshiyori zuinō, ca. 1115), a poetry treatise by the noted waka poet Minamoto no Toshiyori (1055?–1129) that contains numerous anecdotes about waka. Many of these stories overlap with those in The Tales of Yamato (Yamato monogatari, ca. 951), a poem-tale (uta-monogatari) collection of the Heian period. Unlike most setsuwa, these center on waka and, in this sense, bear resemblances to the uta-monogatari genre. The story “How a Poor Man Left His Wife and She Became the Wife of the Governor of Settsu” (30:5), which appears in a different form in Yamato monogatari (148), was recast by the novelist Tanizaki Jun’ichirō (1886–1965) as the novella Reed Cutter (Ashikari). Like a number of other stories in this book, this setsuwa deals with love and separation and shows the influence of the court tale tradition, but it differs in its concentration on the lowly position of the man.
How a Child of Fujiwara no Chikakatsu, Having Been Taken Hostage by a Thief, Was Released Through Words Spoken by Yorinobu (25:11)
Long ago, when Minamoto no Yorinobu, Lord of Kawachi, was acting as Lord of Kamitsuke and had lands in that region,34 he had a samurai named Hyō-no-jō Fujiwara no Chikakatsu, who had a son in the care of a nursemaid. He was a valiant warrior and shared with Yorinobu the management of the fief.
A thief broke into the house where Chikakatsu was staying, and though he was apprehended and bound hand and foot, he somehow managed to escape from his bonds, perhaps because proper precautions had not been taken. Chikakatsu’s son was only five or six at the time, a very likable child, but as he was running away, he was seized as a hostage by the thief, who thrust him into a storeroom, made him lie down under his legs, drew his sword, and held it against the boy’s abdomen.
At that time, his father, Chikakatsu, was in the office, when a man came running in and reported that the boy had been taken hostage by the thief. Chikakatsu, alarmed, rushed to the scene, only to find that the thief had in fact forced the boy into a storeroom and held his sword pressed against the boy’s abdomen. Looking at them, his eyes went dim with fear, but there was nothing he could do. Although he would like to have said, “Just get him out of this!” as he looked at the huge sword pressing even now against the boy’s abdomen, all he could say was, “Don’t go near them! If you do, he’ll kill him!” He knew that if the thief actually killed the boy, they could chop his bones into a hundred or a thousand pieces and it would make no difference. His retainers agreed. “Look out—don’t go near them! Watch them from a d
istance!” they said, and went to report to Lord Yorinobu on what had happened.
Before long, the tension and excitement of what had happened had spread to the place where Yorinobu, the one in command, was located. “What is going on here?” he demanded in alarm. Chikakatsu, weeping, replied, “It is just that my son, who was all alone at the time, has been taken hostage by a thief!”
Yorinobu laughed. “I understand how you feel,” he said, “but is this a cause for weeping? Whether you’re dealing with a god or a devil, you have to face the situation. Rather than weeping for your son, I’d say better to laugh at the affair! One little boy gets put to death—what of that? That’s what soldiers do. To think of themselves or their wives and family—that is to betray themselves! They stand fearless—no thought of self, no thought of family. And I stand with them!” So saying, he put on his sword and pushed Chikakatsu aside.
The thief, seeing that the Lord was present, did not bluster as he had when Chikakatsu first observed him, but behaved in a rather subdued manner, though he pressed closer and closer with his sword, as if to say, “One more from you, and you’re done for!” Meanwhile, the child cried piteously.
The Lord, observing them, said, “You there—are you holding this child a hostage so you can preserve your life? Or do you just intend to kill him? You fool—say once and for all what you’re up to!”
The thief, speaking in an apologetic manner, replied, “What business would I have killing a child? I only seized him because I thought I could preserve my life that way.”
“Then put your sword aside!” said the Lord. “That’s what I’m telling you—and you can’t do other than obey! I’m not here to watch any killing. And what I say naturally goes. So put it aside, you fool!”
The Demon at Agi Bridge and Other Japanese Tales (Translations from the Asian Classics) Page 8