On night roads, a nyūdō suddenly appears and stretches upward higher and higher. Those who keep staring up may collapse; some tales say they’re throttled or killed if stepped over. In many stories, chanting a set phrase makes it vanish—for example, on Iki Island it retreats after bamboo rustles and one declares, “Mikoshi-nyūdō, I’ve seen through you.” In Okayama, starting at the head and deliberately looking down to the feet averts danger. In Shizuoka it disappears if you try to measure its height with a rod, and in Kanagawa it leaves if you steel yourself and light a cigarette.