Konjaku Hyakki Shūi (Later Gleanings of a Hundred Ghosts)

Shinkirō—literally “clam’s mirage”—is a term for the distant images of towers and palaces that seem to float above beaches and seas. In classical lore, the great clam (shin, a giant venus clam) exhales a vapor that projects these visions. The idea traces back to Chinese sources like the Records of the Grand Historian and, in Japan, spread through paintings and tales that attributed seascape mirages to the clam’s breath.

Shokuin is a northern divinity described in the Shan Hai Jing, depicted with a human face and a serpent’s body. When its eyes open, day begins; when they close, night falls. Its breath brings winter, and its call ushers in summer—thus governing the cycle of day and night and the turning of the seasons. The text reached Japan in antiquity, and early modern yokai picture scrolls introduced Shokuin as a foreign deity. Japanese sources offer little on its specific rites or behavior.

The Human-Faced Tree is a strange tree said to bear blossoms like human heads. It appears in Toriyama Sekien’s Konjaku Hyakki Shūi and in Wakan Sansai Zue, which cites the Chinese Sancai Tuhui. The flowers do not understand speech; when addressed, they only smile. If they keep laughing, the blossoms wither and fall. The creature is known more as a bibliographic, proto-natural-history marvel than as a native Japanese folk belief.

A legendary incense said to reveal the image of the dead within its smoke when burned. Rooted in Chinese anecdote literature, it spread in Japan through Edo-period yomihon, joruri and kabuki plays, and rakugo. Rather than a real substance, it functions as a symbolic, miracle-working incense in ghost tales, letting the bereaved glimpse the departed for a moment. Some stories call it an onmyoji’s secret remedy, but its actual existence is doubtful.

A tree spirit from Chinese lore, said to inhabit venerable old trees. In the Soushenji, it emerges from a camphor tree, bleeding and appearing like a dog with a human face. In Japan, Edo-period natural histories and yokai picture scrolls present it as a Chinese entity akin to kimyō or kodama—tree spirits. Linked to beliefs about echoes in the mountains, it has been discussed as an antecedent to the dog-shaped image of Yamabiko.

Tōdaiki refers to a figure forced to stand with a candlestick fixed atop the head—a “human candelabrum.” It appears in works like The Tale of the Heike, The Rise and Fall of the Genpei, and Wakan Sansai Zue. In these accounts, a Japanese person who sailed to Tang China as an envoy vanishes, is robbed of speech, tattooed, and made to bear a candlestick. In Toriyama Sekien’s Konjaku Hyakki Shūi it is drawn in Tang-style dress and explicitly shown to be human. The tale is known in the context of filial-piety narratives.

An old woman yokai with her face caked in white face powder, wearing a torn sedge hat. She appears on snowy roads, leaning on a staff with a sake flask at her side, and asks travelers for a drink. She is said to stand at doorways, drawn by the scent of amazake or sake. If given a little, she causes no harm; if refused, she knocks at the door until late into the night. Tales portray her as a wintertime admonition in poor villages and a reminder of hospitality toward visitors.

The yokai name of an old-woman figure appearing in the Edo-period artist Toriyama Sekien’s Konjaku Hyakki Shūi. In the illustration she is a crone draped with a giant serpent. Sekien references a tale from the Chinese Classic of Mountains and Seas about people of the Wu Xian country who bear a blue snake in the right hand and a red snake in the left, yet he notes the origin of this yokai as “unknown.” In early modern Japan, the term also circulated as a derogatory word for “old woman,” which Sekien likely reimagined and visualized as a yokai.

The Shadow Woman is a feminine apparition drawn by Toriyama Sekien in Konjaku Hyakki Shūi. In houses haunted by spirits, only the silhouette of a woman appears on the shoji under moonlight. She manifests as a shadow, with no clear physical body. Sightings occur at night—especially in strong moonlight—and are described less as attacks and more as an ominous sign. Explanations vary: a restless ghost, a house-bound entity, or a spirit of moonlight; her true nature remains unknown.

A female yokai depicted by the Edo-period artist Toriyama Sekien in Konjaku Hyakki Shūi. She peers over a wall with her mouth agape, cackling kera-kera to bewilder passersby. Sekien alludes to a Chinese anecdote by Song Yu, likening her to the spirit of a woman whose coquettish laughter unsettled hearts. No specific locale or backstory is given; later tradition remembers her as a eerie, laughing apparition.

A smoke-born yokai depicted by Toriyama Sekien in Konjaku Hyakki Shūi. The “ra” in its name refers to a thin gauze, evoking a spirit of smoke that drifts like sheer fabric. Rooted in the age-old sense of presence within hearth and stove smoke, it appears as a formless, drifting entity. In sources, Sekien’s illustration is the primary standard; no specific harm or blessing is defined, and it’s understood as the very essence of smoke made animate.

Oboroguruma is a haunted ox-drawn carriage depicted by the Edo-period artist Toriyama Sekien in Konjaku Hyakki Shūi. On hazy nights it arrives with creaking wheels, a gigantic face peering from where the carriage blinds would be. It is often read as the manifestation of grudges born from Heian-era “carriage disputes,” tied to court processions and the Kamo Festival. Scholars link it to the Night Parade of One Hundred Demons and classify it among haunted tools (tsukumogami).

Ao-andon is a yokai of the printed page, formed where the blue-paper lantern used in Hyakumonogatari gatherings meets the strange figure Toriyama Sekien drew in his early modern collection of yokai images. Its earliest documented named appearance is in the middle volume, "Mist," of Hyakki Yagyō Shūi, prefaced in 1781. The title slip calls the work Konjaku Hyakki Shūi, while its preface title gives Hyakki Shūi; the same work has come down under more than one title. Ao-andon occupies the right-hand page of a double-page spread and is an independent entry, with its own heading and explanatory note, separate from the Ameonna on the left. The device of telling ghost stories beside a lantern covered in blue paper appears in literature before Sekien. Asai Ryōi’s Otogibōko, book 13, "To Tell of the Strange Is to Invite the Strange," was first published in 1666. In the text of an edition published in 1699, a single lantern is covered in blue paper and fitted with one hundred wicks; one wick is removed after each tale. Yet that gathering is interrupted by a strange occurrence before it reaches a hundred stories, and it features neither a horned figure nor the yokai name Ao-andon. It is prehistory for the apparatus of Hyakumonogatari, not the first appearance of Ao-andon itself. Sekien’s note relates that when a lamp seems about to go out, then brightens again, and its shadows tremble and darken, something called Ao-andon may appear. It goes on to explain that people who hold Hyakumonogatari gatherings have long covered their lanterns in blue paper, and cautions that telling of demons in the night invites the strange. It says nothing of a hundredth tale, a final wick, total darkness, or an appearance that is inevitable. Accounts of Hyakumonogatari include strange events around the ninety-ninth tale, events after all one hundred tales have been told, and even stories that turn to laughter when a supposed monster proves to be a dog’s or a person’s leg. Nor is there evidence of a universal rule requiring participants to stop at ninety-nine. The figure in the illustration has long hair, two hornlike projections on its head, and darkly rendered teeth. Inside the lantern, whose front frame has been removed, are an oil dish and wicks; on the floor lie a box, papers, and slender objects that may suggest combs or hairpins. Sekien’s note does not identify them as love letters or sewing tools, however, and it tells no story of a jealous wife, a husband’s betrayal, or a vengeful grudge. Its personality, purpose, victims, attacks, speech, weaknesses, and means of exorcism are unknown. Later yokai dictionaries and creative works have portrayed Ao-andon as a demon woman who stands at the culmination of Hyakumonogatari, gathers fear, or judges ghost stories. Those images are a rich reception history generated by Sekien’s spare single page, but they must be read apart from the Edo-period note itself. The repeated incorporation of early modern yokai imagery into modern creative work is one reason Ao-andon has acquired further layers in each era. The historical record does not identify a specific place of origin, sighting, shrine, or rite, and Edo is not treated as the location of a regional tradition.

A feminine yokai or spirit associated with calling rain. Toriyama Sekien includes the subject “Ame-onna” in Konjaku Hyakki Shūi, but his treatment leans on the Chu poet Song Yu’s tale of “morning cloud, evening rain,” using it satirically rather than defining a concrete monster. In folk belief she is feared as a figure who appears on rainy days to snatch children, yet also revered as a rain-bringing spirit who ends drought.

A monk-shaped yokai seen in Toriyama Sekien’s Edo-period work Konjaku Hyakki Shūi, depicted in the rain. Sekien notes it “wanders the mountains of Ōmine and Katsuragi on rainy nights, begging for alms,” portraying it as an apparition of the shugendō sacred peaks that appears on wet nights to solicit offerings. Beyond the image, its traits and origins are uncertain, and there is little evidence tying it to a specific regional oral tradition. Later writers emphasize a mendicant-monk character, but sources are limited.

A waterside yokai depicted by Edo-period artist Toriyama Sekien in Konjaku Hyakki Shūi. Covered head to toe in hair and armed with file-like teeth, it is shown catching fish along a riverbank. The name also appears as “Kishigai Kozō.” While it evokes kappa-type creatures, equating them requires caution. It is chiefly known as a being that exists within Sekien’s paintings, with few solid mentions in classical texts or regional lore.

Ayakashi is a broad name for uncanny phenomena and yokai encountered at sea. Its meaning shifts from one region to another, encompassing ghost lights, Funayūrei, and mirages over the water. In Nagasaki it can refer to eerie lights at sea; in Yamaguchi and Saga, to boat-haunting spirits that endanger vessels. On Tsushima, a great fire is said to rise on the shore and then become a mountain offshore, blocking a ship's course. Some communities also connected the name with folk beliefs about the remora, a real fish. Ayakashi stories gave sailors a way to speak about shipwrecks and other dangers whose causes were hard to see.

A yokai depicted by Edo-period artist Toriyama Sekien in Konjaku Hyakki Shūi. It rises from beneath the floorboards, licking the oil of an andon lamp and disrupting night work. Sekien notes it as the spirit of someone who shirked duties in life, becoming a “Himamushi Night Nyūdō” after death to lick lamp oil and hinder late-night tasks. The name is linked to a visual wordplay on “Hemamushi-nyūdō,” commonly read as a moral against laziness and sloth.

The Killing Stone is a great mass of lava beside the Nasu Yumoto hot springs in Tochigi Prefecture, long feared as a poison stone that takes the life of any creature that draws near. The whole area is a volcanic fumarole zone, where toxic volcanic gases such as hydrogen sulfide and sulfur dioxide vent ceaselessly from fissures in the ground. Because these gases are heavier than air and pool in hollows, birds, insects, and small beasts that venture near are poisoned and die. From this—a stone that kills living things—it came to be called the “Sesshōseki,” the Killing Stone. The barren, sulfur-reeking waste where no plant grows is called the Sai-no-Kawara, lined with countless Jizō statues. Matsuo Bashō, who visited in 1689, wrote in Oku no Hosomichi (The Narrow Road to the Deep North) that bees, butterflies, and the like lay dead in such heaps, killed by the poisonous fumes, that the color of the sand could not be seen. By legend, this stone is the transformed shape of the slain nine-tailed fox (Tamamo-no-Mae), though that tale is told in full elsewhere.

A mysterious tea kettle linked to Shukaku, the shape-shifting tanuki of Morinji recorded in Kōshi Yawa. The kettle poured endless hot water to serve tea to monks—said to be Shukaku’s sorcery. Shukaku’s true form is an ancient tanuki who heard the Dharma in distant India and came to Japan via China. The tale is regarded as the prototype of the later folktale "Bunbuku Chagama" and became entwined with the temple’s treasures and local lore.

A demon said to have haunted Rajōmon, the main gate of Heian-kyō. It is famed from the tale in which Minamoto no Yorimitsu’s retainer Watanabe no Tsuna rode out alone to confront it and cut off its arm after a fierce struggle. Variants appear in The Tale of the Heike, which shifts the scene to Ichijō Modori-bashi, while the Noh play Rashōmon places the fight at the gate. The later story of the demon returning to reclaim its severed arm branches into Ibaraki and is often identified with the oni Ibaraki-dōji.

A catch-all term for stones said to cry or moan at night. In some tales the stone itself emits eerie sounds; in others, a restless spirit inhabits it and laments. The Weeping Stone of Sayo no Nakayama in Shizuoka is famous and often linked to tragic mother-and-child legends. Elsewhere, certain stones are enshrined as talismans to soothe a child’s night crying, blending beliefs in a stone’s numinous power, potential curse, and pacification.

A spirit said to dwell in the leaves of the banana plant (basho), or the vital essence of an aged plant taking human form. Illustrated by Toriyama Sekien in Konjaku Hyakki Shui, whose notes cite Chinese anecdotes and the Noh chant-play Basho. Tales across Japan describe it appearing as a beautiful woman to test monks or startling travelers on night roads; many accounts say it rarely causes direct harm.

Suzuri-no-tamashii (the Spirit of the Inkstone) is a highly literary and romantic *tsukumogami* (artifact spirit) created by the Edo-period yokai artist Toriyama Sekien in his art collection *Konjaku Hyakki Shui* (Supplement to The Hundred Demons from the Present and the Past). It is not a terrifying monster that threatens or harms people, but rather a beautiful yet sorrowful phantom that appears only in the fleeting moment when the memories dwelling in stationery intersect with the user's deep "immersion in literature." The greatest charm of this yokai lies in the brilliant fusion of "wordplay" and "historical background" orchestrated by Sekien. In calligraphy, the shallow depression in an inkstone (suzuri) where the liquid ink pools is called the "umi" (sea or ink sea). Sekien established that the inkstone favored by a certain literatus was specifically set as an "Akama stone inkstone" produced in "Akamagaseki" (present-day Shimonoseki City, Yamaguchi Prefecture), known as a masterpiece. Akamagaseki is not merely a production site for high-quality inkstones; it is the very stage of the "Battle of Dan-no-ura," the final decisive battle of the Genpei War, where the Heike (Taira) clan met their tragic end alongside the young Emperor Antoku. One quiet night, while the literatus was rubbing ink on this Akama inkstone and reading *The Tale of the Heike*, he dozed off. Suddenly, real waves swelled in the "sea" of the inkstone, and amidst the vast ocean of black ink, the warships of the Minamoto (Genji) and Taira (Heike) clans clashed chaotically, vividly recreating the fierce battle of Dan-no-ura as a phantom across hundreds of years. This phenomenon occurs because the Akama stone, steeped in the blood and lingering regrets of the Heike, projected memories of the past through the black sea of ink. It is one of the most poetic supernatural anomalies in the history of Japanese yokai, perfectly uniting the three elements of the "inkstone's sea," the "origin of the Akama stone," and the "fall of the Heike" in flawless aesthetic harmony.

A yokai illustrated by Edo-period artist Toriyama Sekien in Konjaku Hyakki Shūi. It is said to spy on human affairs from behind a folding screen (byōbu), peeking even over a seven-shaku-tall screen. Some regard it as a visual invention drawing on Chinese classical anecdotes, while others interpret it as a tsukumogami—an aged screen that transformed after long years of witnessing bedroom secrets. It lacks strong place-based lore, with its identity largely defined by pictorial sources.

A shaggy, seldom-seen yokai sketched by Toriyama Sekien in Konjaku Hyakki Shūi. Sekien glosses its name as “Keu-kemi” (written 希有希見, “rarely seen”), underscoring its elusiveness. He likens its form to a hair-covered “hair-woman,” yet offers little on its nature or habits. Later writers proposed it lurks in damp corners of houses, but Edo-period sources do not confirm this.

A yokai depicted by Toriyama Sekien in Konjaku Hyakki Shūi. Countless eyes appear across the paper screen doors of a dilapidated house, staring back at intruders. Sekien’s note suggests a go player’s obsession spread from the board to the entire house, framing it as a haunt residing in the shoji itself. Later encyclopedias call it a literary creation, yet it endures as an emblem of the eerie patterns and dim light cast through shoji screens.

A skeletal yokai illustrated by Toriyama Sekien in Konjaku Hyakki Shūi. It depicts a white-haired skeleton in white robes dangling from a well’s bucket rope, captioned, “Kyōkotsu is a white bone from within a well.” Often read as a being steeped in rancor, but Sekien’s text gives no details of its nature or backstory, and no historical oral name is attested. Scholars view it as a pictorial invention linked to puns, proverbs, or dialectal wordplay.

Eye Standoff is a yokai depicted by Toriyama Sekien in Konjaku Hyakki Shūi; the name itself is Sekien’s coinage. Its source is a tale in The Tale of the Heike (Book Five, “On Monsters and Portents”) describing a haunting at Taira no Kiyomori’s Fukuhara residence: countless skulls rolled about and gathered into one gigantic skull that glared at him. When Kiyomori glared back, the apparition vanished. It is often read as a mass vision of dead spirits manifesting as skulls.

Ushirogami is a specter said to appear behind a person and tug their back hair. In Toriyama Sekien’s Konjaku Hyakki Shūi it is drawn as a one-eyed woman, interpreted as the personification of hesitation and lingering regrets. It haunts the timid or indecisive, amplifying the reluctance that keeps them from acting. The name’s wordplay reinforces its role, and in folk belief it is grouped with “cowardice spirits.”

A yokai depicted by the Edo-period painter Toriyama Sekien in Konjaku Hyakki Shūi. Shown as a beauty from behind, yet the reflection on the water reveals a deeply wrinkled old face. Sekien notes he modeled its name “Iyaya” after the Chinese tale of the insect called “Guai zai” (“strange!”), rendering it as 否哉; no concrete traits are described. Later sources mention it under names like Iyami or Ijiami, but its existence in genuine tradition is doubtful.

A name found in the Edo-period artist Toriyama Sekien’s Konjaku Hyakki Shūi, depicting the aspect of Fudō Myōō manifesting within a waterfall. Sekien annotated it as “appearing from plunge pools across the provinces,” citing the Qinglong shu to state it “subdues all demons and obstacles.” Rather than a yokai proper, it is regarded as a visual emblem of Myōō worship manifesting at waterfalls; the title itself appears to be Sekien’s coinage. Detailed tradition is scarce, and regional aliases or concrete cases are unknown.

Hakutaku is an auspicious beast from ancient Chinese lore said to understand human speech and to know all manner of monsters, demons, and calamities. It appears in eras of virtuous rulership, and the famed Hakutaku Chart records creatures of anomaly and methods to counter them. In Japan, such images spread in the Edo period as talismans against misfortune, carried for safe travel and protection from illness. Depictions show a white beast, with features varying by period.

A yokai illustrated by Edo-period artist Toriyama Sekien in Konjaku Hyakki Shūi. It rises half-bodied from a muddy rice field, one-eyed with three fingers, and is said to appear at night crying, “Return the fields!” Beyond Sekien’s vignette, reliable early-modern attestations are scarce and concrete folk sources are thin. Later interpreters treated it as a moral emblem tied to farming virtue, diligence, and a warning against dissipation.

The great temple bell famed in the Dōjōji legend. When the monk Anchin hid inside the bell, a woman whose love had turned to vengeful fury transformed into a serpent, coiled around it, and scorched it with searing heat. Traditions diverge: some describe a Noh-style image of the bell turning to boiling water that swallows the monk, while other engi accounts say the fire was quenched and the bell survived. Toriyama Sekien illustrated this variant as “Dōjōji Bell” in Konjaku Hyakki Shūi.

Tengu Pebble Shower refers to uncanny incidents where tiny stones rain down from nowhere. No thrower can be found; people hear the sound and feel the impacts, yet the stones may be invisible or leave no marks. The phenomenon is often attributed to tengu as a warning, or to foxes and raccoon dogs. Folklore says those struck may fall ill or have poor luck in hunting. Toriyama Sekien illustrated it, and reports appear from Edo to the Hokuriku region.

An old-woman yokai illustrated by Edo-period artist Toriyama Sekien in Konjaku Hyakki Shūi. Said to haunt a temple’s kuri (monastic kitchen/quarters), she steals offerings and money from parishioners, desecrates graves to weave garments from the dead’s hair, flays skin, and eats corpses. In Sekien’s image she appears as an elderly woman spinning thread with a cat at her side, often read as satire on clerical corruption and decaying temple morals. Reliable region-specific oral traditions are uncertain.

Kazembō is a yokai depicted by Toriyama Sekien in Konjaku Hyakki Shūi: a monk-shaped will-o’-the-wisp said to appear at Toribe Hill, Kyoto’s historic cremation ground. Shown as a beggar-monk wreathed in flames and smoke, it is often interpreted as the spirit-fire of a monk who sought self-cremation for salvation but, shackled by earthly attachments, failed to pass on. Sekien’s image is the primary source; the name and appearance were later cataloged in yokai encyclopedias.

Minobi is a will-o’-the-wisp–like fire said to appear as tiny lights dotting a straw rain cloak on boats crossing Lake Biwa, especially on rainy nights in the rainy season. It neither burns nor spreads; if the cloak is removed, the lights vanish. Brushing at them makes them multiply, glittering like starlight. Some traditions call it the manifestation of drowned spirits, while modern views liken it to a kind of gaseous luminescence; similar reports exist across Japan.

Snake-Obi is a yokai depicted by Toriyama Sekien in Konjaku Hyakki Shūi: a sash (obi) that takes on the form of a snake. Drawing on the Chinese Bowuzhi claim that sleeping on a sash makes one dream of snakes, it links obi and serpent-dreams with the idea of corrupt intent. Sekien notes that a jealous woman’s sash becomes a venomous serpent, symbolically expressing the passions that dwell in familiar objects and their ties to dreams.

The Great Zato is a yokai depiction of a blind guildsman (zato) illustrated by Toriyama Sekien in Konjaku Hyakki Shūi. Wearing tattered hakama, wooden clogs, and leaning on a staff, it roams the main roads on stormy nights. When questioned, it replies that it “always plays the shamisen at brothels.” The image caricatures the nighttime presence of professional blind performers, blending otherness and social satire into a yokai form.

Hatahiro is a cloth yokai depicted by Toriyama Sekien in his Konjaku Hyakki Shūi. It represents a grudge that has seeped into woven fabric, taking the form of a serpentine body that roams in search of people. Sekien’s note explains that a woman’s passion and resentment, as she weaves while waiting for a husband who never returns, transform the fabric. No living oral tradition has been verified; the figure is regarded in art history as an idea-driven apparition originating from Sekien’s imagination.

A specter illustrated by Edo-period artist Toriyama Sekien in Konjaku Hyakki Shūi. It appears as a pale woman’s hand reaching out from the cuff of a kosode (short-sleeved kimono). The image is read as the lingering attachment of courtesans or women to clothing they left behind. Linked to practices of dedicating a deceased person’s garments to temples, or to keepsakes and resold clothing, it fuses social satire with the notion that emotions can cling to garments.

Fūri is the name of a beastly yokai found in Chinese natural histories and zhiguai records, with scattered mentions in Edo-period Japanese essays and natural studies. Descriptions vary: it is likened to a small monkey, marten, tanuki, or hare; said to have a short tail, red eyes, and mottled yellow-green or dark fur. It is rumored to whip up sudden gusts to startle people and livestock, or to appear without warning and leave scratches. Its existence is doubtful, and identifications differ widely by region and source.

“Momijigari” is the title and theme of a famous tale, widely preserved in medieval and later performing arts and literature, in which the warrior Taira no Koremochi slays a demoness dwelling on Mount Togakushi in Shinano. In Noh, joruri, and kabuki, elegant ladies enjoying the autumn maples are revealed to be the demoness Momiji; aided by divine protection, the warrior sees through the disguise and defeats her. Best known as the title of stage works, the demoness image formed where local legend and the theater tradition intersected.

The Hōsōshi originated as the figure charged with driving away evil in China’s Great Nuo ceremony. In Japan, the Hōsōshi became the central performer in the court’s Ōna and tsuina rites, expelling spirits believed to cause epidemics. Early records describe a square, four-eyed mask symbolizing command of the four directions, a halberd in the right hand, a great shield in the left, and a bearskin costume. Accompanied by ritual attendants known as shinshi and nanin, the Hōsōshi processed through the imperial palace and drove pestilence beyond its gates. The ceremony eventually became part of the annual court calendar.

Hidden Hamlet refers to a secluded settlement or boundary realm concealed in mountain valleys, scarcely visible to ordinary eyes, and treated as a yokai-like presence in art. In Toriyama Sekien’s Konjaku Hyakki Shūi, a shop-curtain reading “Hidden Village” hangs, with lucky mice and koban coins arranged around it. When a person’s ties to the human world thin, this place appears without warning—sometimes bestowing wealth or food, sometimes vanishing without a trace—embodying the idea of a liminal, protective barrier.