As the "water-god who stills the storm," Ryujin stands at the border of sea and sky holding the weather in his hands, and it was to him that fishermen, sailors, and the rice-growing folk of the villages prayed most urgently. His power cuts both ways. At times he grants the blessed rain that nourishes the paddies; at times he raises great waves and tempests that shatter ships. For this reason people approached him through many rites, hoping to calm his raging face and draw out his face of blessing. The greatest divine treasures the sea-dragon holds are the tide-flowing and tide-ebbing jewels that command the rise and fall of the tide. Hoori received these two jewels from the sea-god, drowning his elder brother with the flowing jewel and saving him with the ebbing jewel to force his submission. This power to govern the tide at will reveals the very essence of the dragon who rules the sea. At coastal shrines people prayed for storms to subside and for good catches; inland they prayed for rain, offering black horses in drought and sinking offerings into deep pools to court his favor. The legends of human sacrifice handed down at Lake Ashi and at ponds across the land share a single plot — a high priest subdues the raging dragon and turns it into a guardian — telling us that fear and reverence were two sides of one coin. His face as lord of the Dragon Palace is of a piece with this water-divinity. Beyond the sea, on the floor of the waters, the dragon's palace is an otherworld of riches and of time, and one who visits it either gains treasure or, like the one who opened the jeweled box, bears away years that can never be regained. Ryujin is no mere monster but a deity who embodies water itself — the very resource of life and death — and to still the storm was, in the end, to make people keep the fragile covenant drawn between humankind and nature.

A codified image of the classic Ushi-no-koku mairi centered on Edo-period etiquette. Clad in white burial garb with disheveled long hair, the practitioner inverts an iron trivet as a crown with three candles lit, hangs a mirror on the chest, and moves toward the shrine on single-toothed geta to muffle steps. At the sacred tree, a doll bearing the target’s name is pinned and a five-inch nail is hammered in each night. The witching hour is strictly the third quarter of the Ox Hour, with fulfillment said to come on the seventh night. If witnessed, the rite loses its power, so silence and care to leave no tracks are prescribed. In art, a black ox sometimes accompanies the figure; lore holds that straddling it on the final night brings success, while shrinking back means failure. Straw-doll usage became common in the early modern era, with roots in ancient scapegoat effigy piercings and Onmyodo katashiro rites. Folklore often stops short of asserting curses as real, instead telling that breaking taboos or exposure nullifies the act.

An integrated portrayal of Hashihime as a local divinity of Uji Bridge on the Uji River and as the jealous demon-woman of medieval war tales and Noh. As a local deity she was venerated at the bridgehead as a water and land guardian, protecting crossings and safe passage. Traditions forbid praising other regions or singing lines that stir jealousy upon the bridge, reflecting the belief that local gods dislike talk that exalts elsewhere. In the later tale, a woman visits Kifune, undergoes purificatory austerities in the Uji River, becomes a demon, and encounters a warrior at Ichijō Modori-bashi. Toriyama Sekien noted the shrine at Uji Bridge, and the Noh play Kanawa fixed the image of a demon-woman crowned with an iron trivet. Folklorically, bridges are liminal spaces, linked to water deities, female divinities, and warnings against jealousy, so ritual and storytelling long coexisted. While invented details vary by source, devotion to Uji Bridge, the Modori-bashi encounter, and the dual nature of taboo and protection form the core.