An interpretation shaped by medieval war tales, otogizōshi storybooks, and early modern theater. As Shuten-dōji’s foremost lieutenant, Ibaraki-dōji held Mount Ōe and was routed by Raikō’s ruse. Later tales tell of Watanabe no Tsuna cutting off and reclaiming an arm at Ichijō Modoribashi or at Rashōmon. Accounts vary on birthplace and even gender, with traces in Settsu and Echigo traditions. This version follows the most widely circulated storyline in the sources and avoids embellishment.

Kama-itachi is a name for a wind-borne anomaly found in Edo-period art, essays, and oral lore, referring both to the phenomenon and its alleged agent. It is tied to whirlwinds and chill gusts in northern and mountainous regions, noted for razor-like lacerations when one stumbles on the road, delayed pain or bleeding, and frequent injuries to the legs. Its true nature varies across sources: invisible minor spirits, beasts riding the wind, or acts of deities coexist as explanations. In Shin’etsu it is said to strike those who break calendrical taboos, and in Hida a three-stage action is told. In parts of Chubu and Kinki, the whirlwind itself is called kama-itachi, while Edo essays report beast tracks left after a dust devil. Under regional aliases like Tosa’s “Field Sickle,” funerary tools turned uncanny are blamed for similar wounds. In haiku it settled as a winter season word and a sign of wind-borne calamity. This version limits itself to attested sources, avoids overlinking to specific places or persons, and presents regional types side by side.

Seen along seashores and riverbanks as a woman with long wet hair. Depending on the region, she either lures victims by making them hold a baby and then immobilizes them, or appears as a menacing aquatic entity evocative of a serpent’s body and a massive tail. Edo-period yokai art often depicts a serpentine woman, though narrative sources offer scant confirmation. In Iwami she is classed as a water spirit linked to the gyuki, with advice to never hold her burden barehanded. She is sometimes conflated with the iso-onna, and both name and traits vary by locale.

This version follows the figure recorded in the Tenpō-era compendium Hokuetsu Seppu. Its form is ape-like yet larger than a human, with long hair flowing from crown to back, appearing after parting the dwarf bamboo in mountain ravines. It shows no intent to attack homes, chiefly begs for cooked rice, and repays alms by carrying loads and similar deeds. It is closely tied to the weaving culture of Echigo-chijimi, and in tales of loom maidens it intervenes amid household work rules and notions of ritual purity, turning the tide so deadlines are met. Such accounts treat it as a mountain spirit observing human industry and bringing harmony to cycles of trade and production, akin to food offerings made to mountain deities or guest spirits. Later it was reportedly seen at times but returned to the mountains, leaving only its name. Though an unidentified beast, its refusal to harm and habit of repaying kindness place it on the boundary between uncanny and blessed in local lore.

A multiplying apparition said to appear at night on mountain passes and bypaths in Niigata. It takes the form of a small child to lower one’s guard, then hounds its target into striking; each cut doubles its number, forcing flight. Its true nature is unstated—seen as a vengeful spirit or a mountain entity—but folklore stresses that its power fails at dawn or at the cock’s crow. The name “Ichibai” points to its doubling trait, and tales note chicken motifs on sword fittings acting as talismans. Its exact origin is unknown; encounter stories warn against night travel on mountain roads.

Based on the Snow Child figure from Echigo Province. It appears as a small child on snowy days, visiting from the doorway on blizzard nights to warm itself by the hearth. When cared for, it comforts the household and may help with chores, yet with the first signs of spring it loses strength and fades. It shows no malice and instead bears the character of a guest deity, a seasonal visitor heralding winter’s presence. Its visits recur but never last, and finally cease, reflecting the impermanence of snow. It is also called “Yuki-warashi” or “Yukiko,” names that all link snow with a childlike form.

When viewed as a hag extending her tongue in a ruined shack in the wilderness, the terror of the Shitanaga-uba lies less in the monster's appearance itself and more in the moment hospitality flips into predation. The travelers, conditioned by nightfall, getting lost, and fatigue, search for a house and believe they are saved by the old woman's invitation. However, the night's lodging is not a safe zone of the human community, but a trap waiting in a closed room for them to fall asleep. In the scene where the tongue extends to the sleeper, the everyday and soft action of "licking"—rather than the use of blades or claws—transforms into the violence of obliterating the flesh, producing a tactile terror much closer than the red face of Shu-no-banbo. This hag monster's outline becomes clearest when working as a pair with Shu-no-banbo. In the setting of the journey from Echigo to Edo, the Shitanaga-uba is placed inside the house, while Shu-no-banbo acts as a voice from the outside. It is the Shitanaga-uba whose name is called first, and Shu-no-banbo appears saying, "Shall I help?" In other words, the Shitanaga-uba is not a mere servant, but one of the principal culprits moving in front of the prey. If Shu-no-banbo is a yokai of sight, the Shitanaga-uba is a yokai of touch, and the two terrors mesh seamlessly within the same night. While the story connects Echigo Province and Edo on the map, pinning the Shitanaga-uba down solely as a "yokai of Niigata Prefecture" misses the core of the tale. What is important is that an unnamed wasteland opens its jaws halfway between a known land and a known city. The ending, where the house vanishes, suggests the possibility that the anomaly's dwelling was not permanently there, but rose up for just one night to absorb the travelers. Thus, on this page, Echigo Province is listed as the story's starting point, Edo as the destination, and "Unknown" side-by-side as the limit of her origin. In later yokai culture, while Shu-no-banbo stands out by gaining the iconography of a red face and large mouth, the Shitanaga-uba is easily compressed into the short name "the old woman with the long tongue." Yet, that very compression is the strength of this yokai. The moment you hear her name, you know her shape, and the moment you know her shape, you know what she will do. She is not a flashy protagonist, but an anomaly that lingers in the reader's bodily senses through the minimal elements of an inn, sleep, and a tongue.