Ibarakiいばらき

This edition follows in close detail—while fixing the boundary between history and legend—how a single Bandō warrior became the uncanny "flying head" and then turned into a god who guards Edo. First, history and the uncanny must be separated. The revolt itself is conveyed by the near-contemporary Shōmonki, which records in classical Chinese the private feud beginning in 935, the subjugation of the Kantō provincial seats, the proclamation as New Emperor, and the death in battle in 940. But here there is no marvel of a flying head. The supernatural story of a head that would not rot, cried out, and flew appears only centuries later, in the Nanboku-chō-period Taiheiki, with anecdotal relays such as the Konjaku Monogatari-shū in between. It is in this later stratum of legend that Masakado is told as a "yokai." The story of the curse around his head mound is newer still. The dread transmitted at the Masakado Grave-Mound at Ōtemachi—"move it and it curses"—is a modern urban legend, layered onto events that occurred in the heart of the city in the Taishō and Shōwa eras: the deaths of those involved in building the Ministry of Finance's temporary office after the Great Kantō Earthquake, and the bulldozer accident during the Occupation. The factual events and the interpretation that attributes them to Masakado's curse must be carefully separated. The path of deification, on the other hand, reaches back into the medieval age. In the second year of Enkyō (1309), the Ji-sect holy man Shinkyō Shōnin, who attributed a plague to Masakado's curse, pacified the spirit and added it to the enshrined deities of Kanda Myōjin. This, like Michizane, is the textbook goryō belief of enshrining a raging vengeful spirit and turning it into a protecting god. The ups and downs—drawing the reverence of the people as the great tutelary of Edo, being removed from the enshrined deities as a traitor in the Meiji era, and being restored at the end of Shōwa—also reflect well the duality of the image of Masakado as a hero who rebelled against the throne. In later ages, the story of his daughter Princess Takiyasha commanding a giant skeleton won popularity in kabuki and popular fiction and was depicted in Utagawa Kuniyoshi's "The Old Palace at Sōma"; it should be noted that this is a derivative starring the daughter, not Masakado himself.

The principal deity of Inari, Ukanomitama-no-Kami (also known as Ukanomitama-no-Mikoto), is a goddess of grain and food appearing in the first volume of the "Kojiki" (712). The name combines "Uka" (ancient word for food) and "Mitama" (spirit), preserving its simple folk origin as the "personification of spiritual power dwelling in grains." The head shrine, Fushimi Inari Taisha (Mount Inari, Kii County, Yamashiro Province; present-day Fushimi Ward, Kyoto), originated on the first Day of the Horse in February 711. It was founded when Hata-no-Irogu, head of the Hata clan (an immigrant clan who pioneered the Kyoto basin and Fushimi area), shot an arrow at a target made of mochi (rice cake). In a miraculous event, the mochi transformed into a white swan, flew away, and sprouted rice plants where it landed on the mountain peak, prompting the enshrinement of three deities (according to a lost text of the "Yamashiro no Kuni Fudoki"). The three deities were Ukanomitama-no-Okami (the main deity), Satahikoo-no-Okami, and Omiyanome-no-Okami; later, Tanaka-no-Okami and Shi-no-Okami were added to collectively form the five Inari Okami. For its rapid expansion in faith after the Heian period, its connection with To-ji Temple, the head temple of Shingon Esoteric Buddhism, played a decisive role. Starting with the legend of Kukai seeking Inari's cooperation when constructing To-ji, Shingon Buddhism and the Inari faith became deeply intertwined, leading to a syncretism with the Indian esoteric female demon Dakini-ten (Ḍākinī). Originally a "man-eating female yaksha," Dakini-ten softened as she passed through Tibet and China to Japan, becoming depicted as a "celestial maiden riding a white fox," and was eventually identified with Inari. This established a unique lineage of Buddhist Inari (Toyokawa Inari/Myogon-ji founded in Aichi in 1441, Saijo Inari/Myokyo-ji founded in Okayama in the 1300s, etc.), coexisting with the Shinto Inari (Fushimi lineage). During the Edo period, a massive boom occurred where people of all classes—samurai, townspeople, and farmers—enshrined Inari in small shrines on their properties as household deities. It became so widespread that a famous senryu poem listed "Iseya, Inari, and dog poop" as the most commonly seen things in Edo. Modern Inari shrines are estimated at about 32,000 (2,900 head shrines + branch shrines + household shrines), making it Japan's largest belief system by number of shrines. The relationship with foxes requires careful attention. While Fushimi Inari Taisha officially clarifies that "the fox is a divine messenger (familiar) of the Inari deity, not the deity itself," in folklore, many regions treat the fox itself as the Inari deity. This "fox deity faith" from the Edo period onward remains the mainstream of folk belief today. The messenger foxes are called "Byakko" (white foxes) and are traditionally depicted holding one of four items in their mouths: a jewel, a key, a rice sheaf, or a scroll. The jewel represents divine virtue, the key opens the spiritual granary, the rice sheaf represents grain, and the scroll signifies Buddhist scriptures. The main prayers are for bountiful harvests, prosperous business, family safety, fire prevention, and warding off epidemics. Especially since the Edo period, as it became a merchant household deity, prosperous business and financial fortune have become the primary focus. Today, this practice has spread to corporate and storefront altars (even small shrines on commercial building rooftops) and roadside shrines, embedding itself deeply in Japanese society across the four tiers of shrines, temples, residences, and corporations. The annual Hatsu-uma Matsuri (Festival of the First Day of the Horse) in February marks the descent of the Inari deity and is celebrated grandly at Inari shrines nationwide.

"Kappa" is not, in truth, the name of any single creature. It is a collective term—the word by which the whole of Japan, each region in its own dialect, has called the water spirits that dwell in rivers and ponds. In southern Kyushu it is the Garappa; in Tōhoku, the Medochi; in Shikoku, the Enko; in Chūbu, the Kawaranbe; in Kinki, the Gataro; in Kyushu again, the Hyosube. From place to place the name and the form shift a little, and the total is said to exceed eighty. Some are close to monkeys, some shaggy with fur, some moving in troops. Yet all share a common core: they live by the water, hold water in the dish on their heads, and drag away people and horses. The kappa, in other words, is the shared name of a vast clan into which all the water spirits of the land have gathered. It is the reading of folklore studies that binds these many variants into one. Yanagita Kunio and Orikuchi Shinobu held that the kappa was originally a god who governed water—a water deity—who declined into a yokai as belief in it faded. The fact that in the komahiki legends the kappa always tries to pull a horse or ox into the water may itself be a memory of festivals in which horses and oxen were offered to a water deity in prayer for a good harvest. In Kappa Komahiki Kō (1948), Ishida Eiichirō compared this bond between horse and water deity with myths from across Eurasia. Precisely because it is a god of water, the kappa draws water to the fields, grants fish, and even hands down bone-setting remedies—while also drowning people and pulling out their shirikodama. Its twin aspects, blessing and curse, are the two sides of a fallen water deity. Traces of the water deity show even in the turning of the seasons. Across western Japan it is widely told that at the autumn equinox the kappa goes up into the mountains to become a yamawaro, and at the spring equinox comes down again to the river to return to being a kappa. The field god who descends from the mountains to the villages in spring, the mountain god who returns to the peaks in autumn—that idea of coming and going maps exactly onto the exchange between kappa and yamawaro. In this way the clan’s variants, too, are bound to one another as a single continuous terrain. The clan even has its legend of a chieftain. On the Kuma River in Kyushu the tale survives of Kusenbō, a kappa general who crossed over from the continent at the head of nine thousand kindred. Having drawn the wrath of Katō Kiyomasa, he was driven from the region, moved to the Chikugo River, and became one of the retainers of the Suitengū shrine in Kurume. That a kappa was imagined not as a lone monster but as a clan linked from river to river is plainly expressed in this tale of a boss. Places tied to the kappa are found all over the country. At Tōno in Iwate there is a "Kappa Pool" (Kappa-buchi) where kappa are said to appear, and at Jōken-ji temple, in honor of a kappa that put out a fire with the water from its head-dish, stand "kappa guardian lions" whose heads are shaped like a dish. At Lake Ushiku in Ibaraki the painter Ogawa Usen, who depicted kappa all his life, was called "Usen of the Kappa," and Tanushimaru in Fukuoka styles itself "the birthplace of the kappa clan." In the Kappabashi district of Tokyo a legend tells of Sumida River kappa who came each night to help a merchant pressing ahead with flood-control works. To this day kappa festivals are held in many places, and the kappa lends its name to sake brands and town mascots alike—remaining the most beloved of all Japan’s water yokai.

The Unique Position of the 'God of War'. While many deities in ancient Japanese mythology center around agriculture and nature, Takemikazuchi uniquely symbolizes 'war, swords, power, and conquest' as a rare male war god. This reflects Japan's complex history of unification through military force, symbolizing the justification and sanctification of military power in ancient national mythology. The Kuniyuzuri Myth ── Mythologization of Ancient Political History. The test of strength with Takeminakata mythologically represents the political integration of the central Yamato court and the regional Izumo and Suwa factions. The narrative of deciding matters through a legitimate trial of strength rather than sheer oppression served to secure religious justification during this integration process. The Ancestral God of Ancient Military Clans. The Futsu-no-Mitama sword became the core of worship for the Mononobe clan, the ancient military clan of Japan. Takemikazuchi concurrently supported the tutelary worship of both the Nakatomi/Fujiwara and Mononobe clans, making him a central figure in ancient Japanese religion, politics, and military affairs. The Two Great Shrines of Kashima and Katori. Kashima Shrine and Katori Shrine have historically formed the core of ancient military worship in the Kanto region. They served as the highest religious authorities in eastern Japan, standing alongside Ise and Izumo in the ancient Shinto shrine system. Earthquake Pacification. The Kaname-ishi (Keystone) belief at Kashima Shrine added a new attribute to Takemikazuchi as a guardian against earthquakes. This represents a significant evolution of an ancient mythological deity into a figure of early modern disaster folklore. Two Thousand Years of Sumo. The religious essence of sumo, persisting from ancient court rituals to the modern Grand Sumo, stems from Takemikazuchi's mythological origins. Sumo remains a rare example of a globalized sport retaining its ancient mythological roots. Takemikazuchi in the 21st Century. Today, he is revered as a guardian of martial artists, the ancestral god of sumo, and a protector against disasters. As Japanese martial arts spread globally, his worship garners international attention as the religious origin of these disciplines.

A local apparition said to descend with peals of thunder during the seedbed season, feared for ravaging paddies. Rites to drive it off include cracking split bamboo, and folk custom sets bamboo poles in fields to mark a safe return path. It is understood less as a human-harming monster than as a personification of lightning disaster, and those who approach are said to have their vitality sapped and fall stupefied. Its diet and appearance are inconsistent, with traditions likening it to a weasel, a tanuki, or a cat.

An image based on the early modern belief that a great catfish causes earthquakes and is held down by the keystones of Kashima and Katori Shrines. The ancient notion of an underworld dragon-serpent was reworked in early modern urban society into imagery for interpreting disasters and critiquing the times. After the Ansei Earthquake, many namazu-e prints were published, adding allegories of recovery and debt relief. Here the great catfish lies in the subterranean mud, at times shuddering to cause quakes, yet is pacified when pressed by the keystone. Regional lore links it to origin tales of stones, landforms, and river courses, serving as markers of shrine-temple origins and local spiritual power. It appears in early modern documents, broadsides, and origin tales without fixed personal names or lineage, told as a symbolic personification of earthquakes rather than an observed creature, with a yokai framework for interpreting calamities at its core.

An interpretation based on Toriyama Sekien’s image in Konjaku Gazu Zoku Hyakki of a yokai that governs fair weather. Said to be sighted in the mountains during sunny days and absent when it rains. Historical field lore is scant; the figure seems to layer folk weather prayers (teru-teru-bōzu, hiyori-bōzu) and the image of weather-working ascetics or monks onto a yokai form. Identification with Chinese drought deities is a modern scholarly view without direct evidence. Thus its form is told as a simple monk-like silhouette, a symbolic bearer of prayer for clear skies and the act of watching for good weather.

A整理 of the Mikari-bā (Mikakari-bā) yokai as preserved in folklore. She appears on Koto-yōka (the eighth days of the month) as a one-eyed crone, enforcing restraint on housework and outings. Her act of “borrowing” winnowing baskets and human eyes links to avoidance of mesh-patterned tools and symbols with many eyes, giving rise to countermeasures like placing baskets or sieves at the gate, or fixing a mesh basket to a pole on the roof ridge. In the Kōhoku, Yokohama accounts, her greed extends to gleaning even fallen ears of grain, and depictions of her carrying fire in her mouth serve as a caution against conflagration. In southern Chiba, customs of taboo and house-seclusion called “Mikari” (body-substitution) recast pre-festival liminality as a yokai rule. Despite regional variation, these tales share a framework that transmits norms of household safety, fire prevention, and labor abstinence at seasonal thresholds from winter to spring. Creative embellishments are set aside in favor of points attested in Kanto eyewitness reports and folklore records.