The Severed Heads Hanging in the Fowling Net

 

Translated from Nihon no Yurei Banashi

The Thrush Bird

At the Western base of Noriguchidake in the Japanese Alps there is a picturesque plateau.  All through-out this plateau are scattered small lakes filled with sky-blue water.

In the olden days, the road from Shinshu (modern day Nagano prefecture) to Hida (modern day Gifu prefecture) wound along this plateau linking lake to lake.  However, because fearsome things were known to happen along this route people referred to it as the “Road of the Dead.”

It has been two hundred years since this story was first told.  Sitting near the base of this plateau was a small village, where lived a peasant named Heitaro.  His greatest love was hunting the birds and beasts of the wild, and with the coming of winter Heitaro would venture forth with his fowling net and bow and arrow without fail.

“Today, if luck is with me, I will bring down a thrush!”

Heitaro spread out his great fowling net right in the open plains of the Road of the Dead, and waited for an unknowing thrush to fly into it.

At this time, it was still in the early hours of morning.  The white fog was thick, covering the ground and limiting visibility.  Heitaro crouched silently, hidden in the lee of a nearby tree and patiently smoked a cigarette.  After awhile, he heard a loud voice coming from the vicinity of his fowling net.

“Get that Heitaro!  Get that Heitaro!”

Heitaro could hear someone yelling this.

“Eh? What is that?”

Heitaro peered into the fog from between the branches of his hiding place.

“What the…?

Taken aback, Heitaro held his breath and began to shudder with fear.  The voice was coming from something unspeakably terrible.

Caught in his fowling net, lined up in a row, were several severed heads of dead men. And what’s more the heads were screaming:

“Get that Heitaro!  We are going to get that Heitaro!!!”

At any minute it looked liked the heads would free themselves and coming flying towards Heitaro.

Heitaro was too frightened to speak, and quickly dove into an open cavern in a nearby rock formation where he lay shivering. Because the severed heads might be able to come down the same opening that Heitaro had entered, he closed up the hole with another rock.

But he could still hear the terrible voices screaming:

“Get that Heitaro!  Get that Heitaro!”

In time, the dense fog that enveloped the scene began to dissipate, and along with the thinning of the fog Heitaro could no longer hear the voices.

The Dead among the Fog

 

“Now is the time to make my escape”

Heitaro made no move to gather up his fowling net.  Leaving everything behind, he started to run for his village at the base of the plateau.

As he was fleeing, however, again the thick white fog began to gather around the ground until Heitaro could longer see even those things right in front of his eyes. 

“Ahhh!  This is bad…this is bad…anything could happen in weather like this…”

Thinking this to himself, a long shiver ran along his spine. 

He found himself standing along one of the small lakes that decorated the plateau.  From the lake he could hear certain sounds:

“Slurp.  Slurp.”

It was clearly the sound of someone drinking from the water. Heitaro could also hear the sound of something moving along the ground like a worm.

Fearfully, he tried to search through the fog for the source of the sound…

“Ah!”

Heitaro screamed loudly, when he saw the ghastly blue colored things rolling around on the ground.  Drinking the water, dressed in white kimonos where the yurei of dead men.   And there were many of them!  Clinging to the banks of the lake they were pushing each other out of the way to drink from the blue water.

“O…oh no!”

Wanting desperately to flee, Heitaro turned to run but his legs where knocking together with terror and his feet wouldn’t move.  And it was here that Heitaro was seen.

“Heitaro!  We have been waiting for you!”

In a blind panic, Heitaro drug his unmoving feet finally breaking into a run.  Blindly he fled across the plateau until somehow or other he arrived at his village. But all was not well, as Heitaro could no longer go hunting and in time fell ill and succumbed to his bed.

When news of this affair reached the people of the village, they said:

“Is that so…things like really do happen?  I guess what they say about that road is true.  It really is the Road of the Dead.  A place where you go hunting for thrush and catch severed heads”

From that time forth and for a long time after, no one passed again along that route.

This legend is of the “Haunted Forest”-type, and is common amongst yurei tales. These same types of mysterious stories can be found in almost every area, with only the details changed to accommodate the local setting.

The Yurei of the Melancholy Boy

Translated from Nihon no Yurei Banashi

The Body on the Boarders

 Long ago, on the road lying exactly on the boarder between the province of Sendai (modern day Miyagi prefecture) and the province of Souma (modern day Fukushima prefecture), a solitary boy fell dead.

The boy was journeying from Sendai and planning to cross over into Souma when he collapsed.  His head and upper-body lay in Souma, while his legs and lower-body lay in the territory of Sendai.

Just then, a samurai patrolling the boarder of Sendai came upon the scene.

“Ohhhh…this is a troublesome place to find a corpse.   And who is going to be responsible for cleaning this up? If he is from Sendai, then the obligation is ours, but…let’s see what we can do….”

Softly and secretly, the patrolling samurai of Sendai lifted the body in his arms, turned him around placing his head in Sendai and his feet in Souma.  He did not know, however that he was being watched by a figure from the shadows.  There was a samurai who had been patrolling the boarders of Souma.

The Souma samurai leapt quickly from his positing in the tree’s shadow.

“Hey hey!  This is a terrible thing you are doing!  That child is from your province!  He only fell dead while trying to enter my province.”

What are you saying?  Can’t you see?  This is clearly a child of Souma!”

“No, he is from Sendai.  Look at the body for proof!  Can’t you see that his head is facing away from Souma and his feet are firmly in Sendai?”

“Are you crazy?  Look at his body! It is exactly the opposite!”

“Only because you flipped him around!  I saw it all!”

“How dare you falsely accuse me!”

The two began to scream at each other fiercely.

However no matter how strongly they disputed the other’s statement, they could not come to a conclusion on who was responsible for cleaning up the body.  Finally, the samurai of Sendai fixed the samurai of Souma with his most fearsome glare, and said:

“Fine. If we can’t work it out ourselves, let us fetch a Magistrate of Sendai and a Magistrate of Souma, and they can decide what is right.”

“OK, that sounds fair.  Let’s do just that.”

And so it came to be that the two Magistrates arrived, and discussed the problem of the boy’s body.

It must be said that Sendai was a very large and strong province, while Souma was small and weak.  Even if the Magistrate of Sendai knew he was in the wrong, he would never admit it.  And of this point, he said:

“The tiny province of Souma is nothing compared to the might of Sendai.  If this dispute escalates, what do you think will happen?  Do you understand what I am saying?”

The implied threat was clear.

From here, the discussion of who was responsible for disposing of the body was ended. For it was true that if Sendai and Souma went to war, the outcome would never be in doubt.  Souma would lose.

Therefore, Souma had no choice but to accede to the wishes of Sendai.

Before the Grave

While they were going to this grave decision, the Sun had risen and the body of the boy had begun to decompose.  The people of Souma said:

“This poor boy.  Well, there is nothing to do about it but to bury him here.”

So they dug a grave and placed the boy inside.

The following day, a mysterious thing occurred.  Although they were positive they had buried the boy in the grave, he was seen sitting next to his headstone. Patiently, he would gaze kindly in the direction of Souma.  After that, his head would turn in the direction of Sendai and his face would turn horrible.  With all of his heart he would glare his hatred at Sendai.

The people of Souma said this:

“The curse of that boy is on Sendai, and they will be destroyed by it.  The grudge of the living is nothing to be feared, but the grudge of a yurei…”

Not a single person of Souma who looked upon the boy suffered any ill effects, but the same thing can not be said of the people of Sendai.

This story is from the Houken Era and tells of the way things are.  It is an easy to understand legend, coming from the Tohoku Area.

The Two Measuring Boxes

Translated from Nihon no Yurei Banashi

The Customer and the Government Official

 Long ago, in the town of Tsuyama in the province of Mimasaka (modern day northern Okayama prefecture), there was a general store called Ebisu-ya, the shopkeeper of which had the extraordinarily auspicious name of Zenroku.

The “zen” in Zenroku’s name had the meaning of “virtuous,” and used the same kanji character as in the term “Men of Honor.”  If you were to look at nothing but his name, you might think that Zenroku was an equally extraordinary person. But if you could peer past the surface into Zenroku’s heart, you would see that in fact he was exactly the opposite. Whether he was selling oil, or beans, or dried awa melon he would find a way to cheat and deceive his customers.

“Hey Zenroku!  Get me a measure of awa.”

Whenever this call came from a customer, Zenroku would smile sociably and say “Sure! Sure!” making a big show of handing over the measuring box while saying “Go ahead and scoop it yourself!”   He would then quickly take the filled measuring box and dump it into a sack.

Seeing all of this at first, you would think that Zenroku was an exceptionally generous and trusting shopkeeper, allowing his customers to take their own measure.  But if you were to take a closer look at Zenroku’s measuring box, you would find a carefully crafted tool of deception, one that had been modified with a thick board cut and sized to fit invisibly in the bottom of the box.  It was in this way that he swindled his customers out of a full measure.

To be sure, Zenroku also kept an unmodified measuring box behind the counter ready at any time for those days when officials from the government came in for inspection.

“Here is the measuring box we use for this shop.  Please inspect it to your heart’s content!”

The government officials were always entirely taken in by this simple trick, and soon left the shop satisfied.  But sure enough, as soon as Zenroku saw their backs walking out his door, he would stick his tongue out at them.

“Ha!  I fooled them completely!” Zenroku would later brag to his wife Ume.

Ume would not answer, but after such incidents sadness would cloud her face.

“Why does my husband have to be such a bad person?  All the time he is thinking only of how he can cheat and deceive people!”

This constant deception caused Ume great pain and sadness.  She would beg her husband to mend his ways, but Zenroku would never comply with her wishes.  Instead he would rage and shout at her.

“Shut up you!  Taking advantage of people and swindling customers is just good business!”

In the face of this admonishment Ume would hold her tongue and be silent.  And then once again, right in front of his wife, Zenroku would charge people for a full measure while using his fixed box to supply them with only a half-measure at most.   Even then, he had no trouble looking his customers in the eye.

But Ume was not like Zenroku, and in her heart she desperately hated the deception on which they lived.

“How can I possibly turn my husband into a good person?”

This was Ume’s sincere prayer to the kami spirits every day, and then every day again.  But in her heart she had no real hopes that he would ever change.  Such was her despair that Ume eventually fell deathly ill, and was bed-ridden. Zenroku did not spare a thought for his sick wife and just went on with his business as usual, taking dishonest money from his customers as he pleased.

In a short time Ume’s illness was slowly taking her from this world, and she lay fading.  In her very deathbed, she implored her husband to change.

“Husband I beg of you.  Cease using the two measuring boxes to deceive your customers.  Use only the proper measuring box that you show to the government officials.”

With those very words on her lips she died.

But even in death, Zenroku would continue to disappoint his wife.  Her dying words did not touch his heart and he remained unchanged.  While smiling in his customers face he continued to swindle them unashamedly.

The Lost Wife

Zenroku had a friend, a man named Hikohachi.

At the time of Ume’s death, Hikohachi had been away on a trip to Edo (modern day Tokyo).  On the journey home, he was passing through Odawara town in the province of Sagami (modern day Kanagawa prefecture).  As night fell, the path darkened around him until it was pitch black and difficult to see.

“There must be some kind of shelter around here…”

Hikohachi wandered around looking for somewhere to stay the night.  It so happened that he found his way into a thick bamboo forest.

“Ahh…this is a nasty place.  I’m not going to find a shelter around here!”

While attempting to hurry back out of the forest he had stumbled into, Hikohachi caught site of a pale blue light moving lazily through the trees.

“Wha..wha…what is that?”

Hikohachi couldn’t help but stare at the mysterious phenomenon.  Slowly, the glowing light began to take on the distinct shape of a woman’s form.  It was too much for him.  In a place such as this, where there should be no woman wandering, there was clearly a woman right in front of him.  Try as he might he could not deny the evidence of his eyes.

Swaying back and forth, the woman edged closer to Hikohachi.  In a thin, fading voice she said to him:

“Hikohachi san.  It is I, Ume of Ebisu-ya.   My husband Zenroku, to whom I am bound, has shamed me with his misdealing.  Even though I have died I cannot pass into the presence of the Buddha.  I wander here lost.”

Hikohachi heard this, shaking from the tips of his toes to the ends of his hair. This simply could not be happening.  Where he stood now, that distant bamboo forest in Odawara, was more than a month’s journey from Tsuyama where Ume had only recently died.  Yet here, is such a far and forlorn place she wandered as a yurei.

Ume then drew even closer to Hikohachi.  Turning to flee, his legs gave out beneath him making it impossible to even stand much less run.  In the darkness Ume loomed over him.  With a voice dripping with tears, she cried:

“Hikohachi san.  Tell my husband Zenroku that he must give up his deceiving ways and put away his false measuring box.  Tell him of me wandering lost here as a yurei. And show this to him.”

Ume then reached up and tore the sleeve of her kimono off at the shoulder and presented the fabric to Hikohachi.  With this done, she faded back into a blue light, which faded further still until she had disappeared.

As said it took a month for Hikohachi to make the journey from Kodawara to Tsuyama, but when he arrived back in his hometown he went straight to Zenroku and told him the tale:

“Eh?  You say Ume has become a yurei?”

Zenroku listened to the story skeptically, until Hikohachi produced the sleeve that had been torn from Ume’s kimono.  Zenroku recognized it as the same kimono Ume had worn when she died, and he at last felt pitty for his wife and mourned her.   Finally Zenroku understood the darkness in his own heart.

“Ume, I was wrong!  Please forgive me!  From now on, I will strive to be a decent upright man so you can go forth to paradise!”

He held the strip of her kimono cloth closely to his face and wept his apology.  Zenroku then gathered all of his ill-gotten money together, and used it to construct a Buddhist temple to stand as a memorial for his good wife Ume.

Because of this, the yurei that was Ume was able to move on to paradise.  And even now, in Daienji temple in Nishitera town, you can still see the temple built by Zenroku for Ume.

This legend is unusual in how the yurei simply admonishes the person with the bad heart.  This makes the story a more moralistic tale than most yuei legends of the same type.

Misplaced compassion

Translated from Nihon no Yurei

My great-grandmother was born and raised in Uneme-cho (present-day East Ginza, fifth ward), and lived there until she died at age eighty-five in the tenth year of the Taisho era.  Many were the stories that we heard from her.  This is one of them.

 A certain monk was walking by and saw a chicken that was due to be slaughtered.  Pulling some money from his pocket, the monk bought the chicken and thus saved its life.  However that night, the chicken stood before the monk as if in a dream and cursed the monk:

“If I had died today as was my destiny, I could have been reborn as a human! Instead of that, because you saved my life, my dearest hope has been lost and I am doomed to go back into the re-birth cycle all over again!”

The Scared Yurei

Translated from Nihon no Yurei

In a certain house an old woman lived alone. One night, as she was sitting down to her dinner, she spied a young woman’s downhearted face peering out at her from the darkness of a corner.   Looking closer, she could see that the face was that of a young  girl of the next-door geisha house who had recently passed away.

This young girl had been the protégé of the madam of that house, calling her “older sister” in the style of the geisha.  However, their relationship was not good and it had been the talk of the town that the madam had badly mistreated this girl when she had been alive.  The madam devised such mischief as waiting until the young girl was just about to bring her chopsticks to her lips, before letting loose a torrent of chastisment to which the she must endure, thus leaving her with barely a morsel eaten.  The madam also covered the girl’s body with bruises to such an extent that the color of her beatings never faded. Finally, it was said, she killed the girl. 

Before the abused girl had died, this old woman of the next-door house had pitied her. Sometimes, the old woman would stealthily enter the geisha house in order to slip the young woman candies and bites to eat.  Because of this, when that girl’s lost spirit appeared at the old woman’s house, that old woman was quite vexed.  Always stout-hearted in nature, the old woman scolded the yurei who had mistakenly appeared in her home.

 “Hey you!  You have absolutely no reason to hold a grudge against me!  If you are going to haunt someone, go next door to your older sister!  You are here by mistake!”

The old woman had no doubt that the yurei, who had mistakenly appeared in the wrong house, would soon leave and so she lightly pummeled the spirit with her fists.

 Now if the yurei had replied something along the lines of how she had meant to go straight to her older sister’s house but felt she couldn’t do the job properly because she was too hungry and so she had dropped by the house of the kind old woman who had fed her when she was alive, the story would have more of a comedic feel to it.  But instead the yurei sadly replied with her downcast face:

“I am too scared to go to my older sister’s house.”

This answer is what marks this story as unusual for the yurei genre. In the normal way of things, a person who has transformed into a yurei is usually an object of terror to the person who harassed them in life.  But even though she has died, the young girl still fears her older sister, and this twist ending  is what lends the story its interest.

What the old woman said in reply, and how the story continued after that moment, has never been told, and in fact if the story had continued with all the loose ends properly tied up it would have given the story the stink of a literary creation. 

Instead, the story remains how it was told by the old woman, who lived in that area until around the start of the war.  She would often tell the tale of the young girl yurei, forever adding at the end “Say it is stupid if you want, but it just goes to show you can’t be thoughtlessly kind to people. “ 

I heard this story from my father, who had spent his whole life in Ginza until he died after the war.

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