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The Structure of the Ancient State Myth: "Tenson Korin". While the basic description touches upon the outline of the Heavenly Descent, this deep dive explores the structure of the "Tenson Korin" as the foundational myth of the ancient Japanese state. The Tenson Korin depicts the divine descent from Takamagahara (the celestial world of purity and order) to Ashihara no Nakatsukuni (the earthly world of chaos and conquest) as the core myth establishing ancient Japan's foundation, ruling authority, and the origins of agricultural civilization. Its intricate structure—involving specific artifacts (the Three Sacred Treasures), attendants (the five pillar gods), commands (the divine decree), and bedding (the Madoko-ofusuma)—forms the fundamental basis for religious ceremonies like the ancient enthronement rituals, the Niiname-no-Matsuri, and the Daijosai. Transcending a simple mythological tale, it is a foundational narrative device that has threaded through Japanese state, religion, politics, and culture from antiquity to the modern era. Comparative Mythology of Descent Myths in World History. In global mythology, the Tenson Korin myth is positioned as a quintessential example of "heavenly descent/divine incarnation" myths. From the Dangun myth of the Korean Peninsula (Hwanung, son of the Lord of Heaven, descending to Mount Taebaek), to the legends of Genghis Khan in Mongolia, the shaman descent tales of northern Tungusic peoples, the descent of Krishna in India, and the Incarnation in Christianity, "divine descent from heaven to earth" myths are widely distributed across the ancient world. The similarities with descent myths in Northeast Asia (like Korea and Mongolia) present a crucial comparative religious question, suggesting that ancient Japanese mythology may have formed within a broader Northeast Asian cultural sphere. Understanding the Tenson Korin not as an isolated Japanese phenomenon but as a Japanese variation of a shared ancient Northeast Asian mythological imagination is a significant achievement of post-war Japanese mythological studies. The Historicity of the Descent Site Controversy. The fact that the alleged location of Ninigi's descent site, "Takachiho Peak in Tsukushi Hyuga," is split between two major traditions—Takachiho Town in Miyazaki Prefecture and the Kirishima mountain range in Kagoshima Prefecture—is the result of the ancient state myth evolving through multiple layers of regional folklore, geographic manifestation, and political competition. The ancient central government (the Yamato Court) did not pinpoint a specific location, adopting the abstract name "Takachiho in Hyuga," allowing independent "our land is the descent site" traditions to develop throughout southern Kyushu across the medieval, early modern, and modern periods. Amid modern tourism branding rivalries, local historical research, and shrine heritage systems, the two major traditions coexist, functioning as unique cultural resources. This is a classic example of how ancient mythology is multi-layeredly integrated into regional culture. Konohanasakuya-hime and the Origin of Lifespan ── The Choice Between Beauty and Eternity. The fact that Ninigi-no-Mikoto's choice of Konohanasakuya-hime (the cherry blossom goddess) and rejection of Iwanaga-hime (the rock-eternal goddess) became the origin myth explaining why his descendants—the Imperial lineage and humanity—lack eternal life illustrates the "fundamental tension between beauty and eternity" in ancient Japan. The contrast between the beautiful but fleeting cherry blossom and the ugly but eternal rock demonstrates the root structure of the ancient Japanese view of life, aesthetics, and impermanence. As a uniquely Japanese concept of impermanence predating the introduction of Buddhism, this idea has been passed down as a foundational philosophy threading through later Japanese culture, including Ukiyo (the floating world), cherry blossom appreciation, Bushido, and the tea ceremony. It serves as crucial material providing the mythological basis for the Japanese aesthetic of "it is beautiful precisely because it fades." From Umisachi-hiko and Yamasachi-hiko to Jimmu's Eastern Expedition. Among the three children of Ninigi-no-Mikoto and Konohanasakuya-hime, Yamasachi-hiko (Hoori-no-Mikoto) visited the Sea God's palace, married Toyotama-hime, and fathered Ugayafukiaezu-no-Mikoto, who in turn had Emperor Jimmu with Tamayori-hime. This four-generation lineage forms the core of ancient Japanese state legitimacy. Jimmu's Eastern Expedition (the myth of Emperor Jimmu migrating east from Hyuga to Yamato to ascend the throne) is the logical conclusion of the Heavenly Descent, mapping the establishment of the ancient Japanese state as a three-stage geographic migration: "Takamagahara → Hyuga → Yamato." As the starting point of ancient state mythology, Ninigi-no-Mikoto is the foundational deity spanning over two millennia of political history, from Jimmu's expedition and successive enthronements to the ancient Ritsuryo system, pre-war State Shinto, the post-war Imperial family, and the modern Emperor system. The Tenson Korin Cultural Sphere of Southern Kyushu. Southern Kyushu (Miyazaki, Kagoshima, and southern Kumamoto Prefectures)—the primary area enshrining Ninigi-no-Mikoto—has developed unique religions, cultures, and folklore as the "Land of the Heavenly Descent" since ancient times. With the Yokagura of Takachiho Town (a Nationally Designated Important Intangible Folk Cultural Property reenacting the opening of the heavenly rock cave), the sacred Kagura dances and festivals of Kirishima Jingu, the pilgrimages to the imperial tomb at Nitta Shrine, and the Jimmu accession festival at Miyazaki Jingu, the region maintains a multi-layered system of religion, performing arts, and festivals that carries ancient mythology into the present. The creation of modern regional brands like "Myths of Hometown Miyazaki" and "Kirishima Tourism" are prime examples of how ancient myths have expanded into modern regional revitalization, tourism industries, and educational materials. This is a rare instance of ancient mythology functioning as a living cultural resource spanning over two thousand years. Ninigi-no-Mikoto in the 21st Century ── Ancient Mythology and Modern Japan. In the 21st century, Ninigi-no-Mikoto and the Tenson Korin myth are preserved as material for ancient historical research, southern Kyushu tourism, Shinto rituals, and pop culture. Moving from political reinforcement under State Shinto before and during the war, to cultural relativization under the post-war separation of religion and state, and finally to multi-layered expansions in 21st-century tourism, subcultures, and education, the ancient myth maintains a strong continuity with modern Japanese spiritual culture. Continuously reimagined in subculture works like the games 'Okami' and 'Megami Tensei,' and the manga 'Demon Slayer,' the ancient Heavenly Descent myth bridges two millennia to continually drive the spiritual culture of 21st-century Japanese people. He is the symbolic deity of Japanese mythology, embodying the continuous thread of cultural inheritance from antiquity to the present.

Among the coastal Nure-onna of northwestern Kyushu, a variant that particularly despises the handling of reed mats and thatch is called the Toma-Shunning Nure-Onna. On windless nights she appears on the beach without leaving footprints, a young woman from the waist up with black hair slicked by brine, shell-pale skin holding the moon, and eyes that reflect the distant whitecaps offshore. Below the waist she is indistinct like sea-mist, and if trod upon there is only sand with no true form. From behind she bears a jagged, craglike shadow like a collapsed rock face, and if one’s gaze falters she seems nothing more than a shore rock. Drawn by the hush of a calm, she stares seaward; if her name is called or a careless voice is thrown at her back, she answers with a shrill cry. The scream overlaps the roar of the tide and cuts the ears, her loosened hair stretching like wet seaweed to entangle the caller. Each briny strand bites the skin like the barb of a fishhook and is said to draw up warm blood along the hair. Yet if three old thatch stems from a reed mat are placed over the chest not as a cross but in the shape of the character for river, her hair recoils from the thatch, and she cannot step on the edge of the mat, only drip seawater in frustration from the gunwale. She favors boarding boats by their stern line; if a stranger’s harbor leaves the stern line set, at midnight she will crawl up it, slip in over the rail, and drape her hair over sleepers’ faces to steal their breath. Thus old fishermen followed the rule of taking in the stern line when calling at a port, dropping only the anchor and keeping watch at the bow while reading the wind. She is susceptible to the human-made ideas of knots and naming in ropes; if the rope is cinched hard while whispering the owner’s name three times, she cannot unravel that name and cannot travel along the line. Though drawn by the grudges of the drowned, she does not harm indiscriminately. When she sees discarded reed mats or thatch, or cut ropes drifting in the tide, she scents the neglect of the hands that wove them and approaches their owner’s boat. Conversely, those who dry nets and mats without letting the ends trail into the sea or blocking the tide’s path may find her invisible presence come near and, by the creak of moorings, warn of a calm about to break, old skippers say. In parts of the Fukuoka coast, it is said she walks the water not for lack of feet, but because she avoids reed mats, stepping only on the thinnest skin of the waves. Northern Kyushu has a crab-incarnation theory, but this Nure-Onna does not hate crabs; rather, when shore crabs scuttle, she draws in her hair and returns to rock. Her name varies by place—Iso-Onna, Nure-Onna, Sea Princess—but her ties to the etiquette of thatch and rope are constant. To avoid her: do not call to a woman’s back on a night beach, do not leave a stern line fast in unfamiliar ports, and place three thatch stems in a river shape where you sleep. Keep these and she will only turn her white offshore eyes toward you, then blend into rock-shadow and unravel into the tide mist, leaving only her presence to be told as footprints that were never there by morning.

Grounded in historical accounts, this version emphasizes its low flight from dusk into night and its tendency to wrap around people. It shows little animal intent, instead seeming to attack when borne by wind and terrain. It favors unseen field ridges and forest edges, moving during dim hours. Its cloth-like lightness and suppleness define its behavior—swift on strong winds, sluggish when the air is still.

This version looks at the yamawaro — the kappa's "other half" — from the side of life in the mountains. If the kappa is the being that menaces people at the water's edge, the yamawaro is the one that appears at the worksites of mountain labor. It helps woodcutters and charcoal burners haul their timber, taking sake or rice balls in return. Yet the exchange follows a strict code: hand over the promised goods first and it runs off without working, and break a promise and it flies into a furious rage and brings down misfortune. To those who worked the mountains, the yamawaro was at once a dependable partner and a neighbor not to be trusted, one that bared its fangs at any lapse of courtesy. The tales of the yamawaro are packed tight with the eeriness of the mountains: the "tengu-fell," the sound of a great tree crashing down when no one is there; a voice that mimics human songs and the strokes of an axe to the life; and the strange weakness of disliking the line of a carpenter's ink pot. These are the very dread felt by those who venture deep into the hills. And the legend of the "crossing of the kappa" — entering the mountains at the autumn equinox and returning to the rivers at the spring equinox — ties the yamawaro and the kappa together with a single thread. A single water god that passes between mountain and river — its mountain face is the yamawaro.

This version looks closely at the form and nature of the kenmun—kin to the kappa, yet bearing colors all its own from Amami. It stands about as tall as a child, its skin tinged with red, its body covered in ape-like hair, with hair that is black or red. In the dish on its head it holds the water that is its source of strength, and its fingertips, its drool, and the dish itself are said to glow faintly. Where the mainland kappa is bound to rivers and pools, the kenmun makes its home in old banyan (gajumaru) trees and moves between sea and mountains with the seasons—a distinctive character rooted in the nature of the southern isles. Its range, too, spreads from island to island, with its own tellings handed down on Amami Ōshima, Kakeroma, Tokunoshima, Okinoerabu, and elsewhere. In the tales of older generations it was most often a harmless spirit that helped people, but as the ages passed its mischievous, menacing side came to the fore. As the island life lived alongside the forest fades, the kenmun’s own place, too, is slowly drawing away.

Amakudari-Onna is recorded in Amami Ōshima as a variant of celestial maiden tales, emphasizing the visiting woman who steals human souls. She may appear even under clear skies with a light drizzle, marked by unusual attire carrying a white furoshiki. Her targets are mainly young men; she approaches with smiles and sensual allure, and if they comply, she takes their life or soul. A ladle of water serves as the medium, with taboos warning that drinking it lets her carry victims to the heavens. Folk defenses include staring her down and observing proper drinking etiquette, tying the tale not only to the uncanny but also to admonitions against nighttime wandering, illicit affairs, and improper hosting. Names vary—Amagari-onna, Amore-onna, Hagoromo beauty—reflecting regional shifts, yet the core remains consistent: a woman descending from heaven, fine rain, seduction, soul theft. Though mingled with later hagoromo legends, it strongly retains the imprint of Amami’s visiting-deity beliefs.

An organized synthesis of the one-eared pig yokai found in Amami strange tales, presented alongside related lore of earless pigs and one-eyed pigs. The shared core is soul extraction by “passing through the crotch,” in which it closes the distance with a sudden leap and slips through from behind. It is told as a local, site-bound apparition that emits a strong animal-like stench and casts no shadow. Some accounts say it appears before lone women or pairs of women. Practical know-how to avoid it includes standing or walking with legs crossed to prevent it from passing through the crotch. Capture is said to be difficult, as it escapes pursuit with speed and powerful leaps.