Yokai Encyclopedia

A classic case of tanuki-bayashi reported around Honjo in Edo. The sound layers like flute, drum, and shamisen, seeming to recede as you approach and shifting direction when you turn a corner. It often cuts off abruptly near waterways and moat edges. While common folk sometimes explained it as refraction and echoes caused by wind and terrain, people of the time also took it as the work of tanuki. Counted among the Seven Wonders of Honjo, it was frequently mentioned in sideshows and popular literature, with the names “Baka-bayashi” and “Tanuki-bayashi” used interchangeably. Notably, there are no accompanying sightings of a physical form, making it a sound-only apparition of high record value. Folklore warns that chasing it can leave you lost and wandering into the outskirts by dawn, so one should stop midway and cover the ears.

Tengu-tsubute is told as a formless anomaly whose cause has been variously ascribed to tengu, foxes, or divine intent. Stones fly from all directions though no thrower is seen, impacts and sounds are real yet no stones are found, no marks remain, and the events repeat at set hours. Cases are recorded widely from Kaga, Kanazawa, and Edo in urban quarters to shrine precincts, and some reports note that crowds of onlookers or official patrols led to its quieting. Morally it serves as a warning against misconduct and as an omen of crop failure or illness, and older records link it with thunder as stones cast by Tenjin. Folklore studies connect it conceptually to stone-throwing rites, mass petitions, and indochi stone fights, understanding it as an expression of a supernatural will.

Based on Toriyama Sekien’s “Tesso” motif, it appears as a giant rat draped in robe-like shadows, with red eyes and teeth said to be iron-hard. Its origin lies in the vengeful spirit tale of Raigō tied to disputes over the ordination platform at Onjōji, where rivalry between Enryakuji’s Sannō faction and the Miidera side was cast into story and overlapped with real rat damage to temple sutras and treasures. Names vary by period and source, with “Raigō Nezumi” and “Miidera Nezumi” coexisting. Medieval war tales exaggerate its numbers into a calamity of swarming rats, while from early modern times it links to shrine legends of pacification and blessings. Chronologies in records do not always align and the tale is highly narrative, yet shrine and temple names, linked verse, and oral lore support a core tradition. In some regions, extermination stories feature a great cat of Mount Hiei or guardian deities, reflecting the boundary-conscious rivalry between two religious centers.

A waterside bake-danuki tale tied to the Aoiishise shallows of the Yoshino River in Awa Province. At midnight, when a boat moors, a colossal pipe is offered and an enormous amount of shredded tobacco is demanded. The motif of a shape that begs tobacco, found across Japan, merges here with Awa’s tanuki beliefs, forming a folk pattern in which lack of offerings brings curse or calamity. The quantity is said to reach ten forty-momme bags—impossible to carry—serving as a practical warning against overnight mooring at the rapids. If the pipe is fully packed, it departs without harm, reflecting a folk sense of boundaries, bargains, and payment. Its form is rarely described, often only a giant hand and pipe are perceived. Boats are threatened by sounds and waves, sometimes said to sink, turning fear of careless conduct aboard and the night waters into story. It warns against excessive curiosity and negligence while transmitting the geographic dangers of the shallows.

The Kesa-bō of Igusa is told as a kappa belonging to the local waters, marked by a monkly appearance symbolized by a priest’s kesa stole. Its pranks cause real harm, such as obstructing passage or adding weight, and at times tie into sacrificial notions surrounding the intestines. The listing of neighboring kappa names typifies kappa groups distributed along each water system, accompanied by ideas of mutual visits and marriage ties. The setting centers on the channels near Ochiai Bridge, where nighttime travel was shunned. Later records sometimes confuse it with examples from Miyagi Prefecture, but locally the tradition is firmly fixed under the name Igusa.

A portrayal based on the tale of the Guardian Crane at Morinji Temple in Jōshū. The ever-boiling teakettle symbolizes almsgiving and joy in the Dharma, and sharing tea with monks and visitors is understood as spreading virtue. The guardian is a long-lived tanuki who lives among humans while bound by Buddhist ties. When its true nature is exposed, it leaves the temple, but at parting uses illusion to show scenes of ancient battles and Buddhist rites, teaching people impermanence and the virtue of the Law. Later, this tradition split into two strands: one reshaped into the folktale Bunbuku Chagama with showy acrobatics, and one remaining within the temple’s origin legend. Locally, it is told in connection with the temple’s treasured kettle, influenced by tanuki worship, storytelling, and essays, yet its core reduces to two points: the inexhaustible hot water and the departing wise tanuki.

A recorded marvel revered and feared as the very phenomenon of an ancient chinkapin that shed no leaves. Understood less as a personified will and more as the ambience of the land or the work of a tree spirit, it is told alongside other Honjo Seven Mysteries such as Okehazubori and the Foot-Washing Mansion as an enigma that reveals no cause. Named in Mimibukuro and in local gazetteers and collections of strange tales, it is not remembered for direct harm but for an uncanny presence that keeps people away. It aligns with tree veneration and the notion of household guardian trees, with hyperbole like needing no sweeping of fallen leaves to emphasize the marvel. The identification of the actual tree is debated and unconfirmed.

A classic Edo urban apparition that finds sacred presence in familiar natural anomalies. The single-bladed reed form signals a communal storytelling device that shares unease without fixing a cause. The anomaly is sensed less as a property of the plant than as an atmosphere of place, told alongside night silence and the sound of water. Memorial rites, posted placards, and small shrines are often noted as local pacification practices, and like other Seven Wonders (such as the ginkgo that never sheds its leaves), the tale pointedly withholds rational explanation and leaves the strangeness intact. Later embellishments personify people and incidents, but older accounts remain origin-unknown and phenomenon-focused.

An amalgam of seven-in-a-row ghost tales found across Shikoku. Its core traits are threefold: seven figures advance in single file without a word, they appear at crossroads, on night roads, or at rainy dusk, and an encounter portends misfortune. Names, time of appearance, and garb vary by locale. In Sanuki they look human but are usually invisible, perceptible only through a ritual vantage—peering from beneath a cow’s hindquarters. A subtype limited to crossroads at the dead of night is called Shichi-nin Dōji, and certain once-busy junctions are remembered for their passage. The Shichi-nin Dōshi, who appear in rain wearing straw raincoats and hats, are linked to executed souls; a folk remedy to dispel the gloom after meeting them is to fan oneself with a winnowing basket. In Tokushima, seven child spirits accompanying the Headless Horse are said to have faded after Jizō statues were erected for their repose, reflecting a regional belief that memorial rites quell calamity. Though sometimes conflated with Shichi-nin Misaki, local names and functions differ; Shichi-nin Dōkō are identified by the outward feature of seven spirits marching in a line.

Told as an urban-legend-style ghost tale from Edo’s Honjo district, this curiosity lies in the pairing of objects and institutions rather than vivid supernatural feats. The phenomenon itself is scarcely described; the very adoption of a drum for duty is treated as uncanny. Shaped by the locale, samurai compound regulations, and a city prone to fires, the oddity of sound lingered in memory and became a tale. A variant recounts that striking a wooden clapper produced a drum’s sound, hinting at auditory error or transmission drift. Sources appear in local topographies and essays, and typically lack specific origins or named figures. Later creative retellings add ghosts of fire brigades or watchmen, but older lore is restrained, focusing on the strange pairing of residence and watchtower.

A late Edo period folk belief recounts that households employing a woman from Ikebukuro would suffer a barrage of noisy disturbances: sounds of thrown stones, damaged shutters, flying utensils and lanterns, and small fires flitting into the tatami room. Many versions begin with an affair between the master and a maid, and the phenomena cease once the maid is dismissed. Explanations vary, including obligations to the local tutelary deity, links to Osaki-possession tales from the Chichibu area, or simple human contrivance such as hoaxes and harassment. Rather than a single yokai individual, the term serves as a catch-all for disturbances tied to hiring women from certain locales, with parallel cases recorded for places like Ikejiri, Numabukuro, and Meguro.

Based on records from Horie Village in Awa Province, this version organizes the image of the Itobiki-Musume as a young woman operating a spinning wheel by the roadside. The moment someone looks her way, she transforms into an old crone and bursts into loud laughter. No harm beyond revealing her true form is reported, and she neither touches nor pursues people. Stories most often place her from dusk to midnight in spots where foot traffic thins—village outskirts, field paths, and crossroads. Folklorically she belongs to roadside怪異 tales, told as a warning not to be deceived by looks and not to dawdle off one’s route. The trigger for the change is acts like “staring” or “approaching,” and the silent switch to an old-woman figure is the core of the fright. The spinning wheel is an everyday tool, and her realistic working motions heighten the uncanny shock of a chance encounter. Parallels exist outside the region, but the named example from Awa is the best known.

This version organizes the Saramiyama monster tale preserved around Takagawa in Tosayama Village, Tosa Province. Aside from the aberrant traits of three eyes and eight faces, its appearance is left undescribed, with only the enormity of its remains emphasized. Cast as a mountain demon that attacks passersby, the tale centers on pacifying the mountain and slaying it with fire under the leadership of a local notable. A ritual wand (gohei) is said to have endured amid the blaze, leaving traces in toponyms and legendary sites known as the Pacifying Stone and Pacifying Place. While linked by association to regional stories of multi-headed serpents, it is not directly identified with them, and the true nature of the three-eyed, eight-faced being remains unknown. The story conveys taboos against crossing mountain boundaries and the folk theme of calming with fire and purification, though details such as dates, identities, and specific rites are unclear in tradition.

The Tofu-kozo is a character that embodies the sensibility of the late Edo period, which shifted *yokai* from 'objects of fear' to 'objects of affection and laughter'. While ancient Japanese and Chinese *yokai* were feared in dark tales and picture scrolls, the Tofu-kozo was born from the start as a character in printed entertainment books, intended not to frighten readers but to amuse them. The core of its form lies in the fixed iconography of 'hat, tofu, tray, and stuck-out tongue'. Rather than the invention of a single author, this became standardized as it was repeated and shared across printed books. Its very powerlessness—having no real abilities, causing no harm, and simply standing with tofu—ironically generated strong semiotic power. Visual traits such as the white of the tofu against the red of the maple stamp, and the disproportion between the child's body and the large hat, provided the foundation for its spin-off into toys and kite paintings. The Tofu-kozo is an entity that demonstrated early on that *yokai* could be detached from local beliefs and circulated as urban products and brands, and can be read as a distant archetype of modern mascots (*yuru-chara*) and the character business.

This version follows coastal ghost lore from Shima through Izu to Echizen centered on the idea of a diver’s double. It appears identical to the witness, notably with the tail of the headband hanging unusually long. It manifests in overcast or dim seas, approaches offering abalone or other shells, and lures victims toward the dark. Traditional countermeasures include keeping one’s gaze and routine steady, not accepting offerings with the leading hand, and using hand towels or garments marked with protective sigils, though results vary, and some tell of a net-like shroud being cast over them. Encounters skew toward those working alone, while many locales say group operations avert it. Some tell it as a revenant or sea-haunting apparition that draws people into the water, yet others long held it to be delirium or visions from prolonged diving and fatigue. Ama divers dyed Seiman-Doman patterns on clothing and towels for protection. In Echizen’s Anjima, it is said to move counter to expectations and cannot be clearly seen.

A version organized from folklore materials of a child-shaped mountain spirit seen in the eastern Tanzawa mountains. Generally harmless, it simply follows quietly behind travelers, yet at times steps ahead at forks to guide them onto the right path. It wears rough straw matting or homespun, sometimes pelts, blending into the forest’s shadow and vanishing when one turns back. It is said to appear most often in the afternoon, and at night to carry a small light like a lantern. Those who meet it repeatedly often think of lost children and leave rice balls, yams, sweets, or dried persimmons on rocks or stumps as offerings. Some accounts say it fades away as one nears the villages, others that it withdraws when called to at night, and none describe it as vengeful. Rooted in overlapping ideas of mountains and the dead, it stands as a symbol of the boundary nature of the mountain realm.

A traditional reading of the Tsurube-bi based on Edo-period ghost tales and Sekien’s imagery. Told across Japan as a tree-born will-o’-wisp, its bluish-white fire-orbs dangle from branch tips and bob up and down like a well bucket’s pulley, misleading travelers. The flame is weaker than it looks and is said not to catch on clothes or vegetation. Early-modern accounts cite fire apparitions around Saiin in Kyoto, and later yokai encyclopedias file it as a will-o’-wisp akin to Tsurube-otoshi or as a separate kind. Sightings are said to peak on moonless or misty nights; when approached it slips away, when left it drifts back. A shadowed face sometimes appears, causing confusion with hitodama, yet it is remembered as a local, earthbound fire spirit.

Academic Correction (Most Important Note for this Species): The monsters included in the "Mei" volume of Toriyama Sekien's *Konjaku Gazu Zoku Hyakki* (1779) are Nue, Itsumade, Jami, Moryo, Mujina, Nobusuma, Nozuchi, Tsuchigumo, Hihi, Dodomeki, Buruburu, Gaikotsu, Tenjo-sagari, Ohaguro-bettari, Okubi, Dodomeki, Kanedama, and Amanozako (18 entities in total), and Tsurube-otoshi is not included. What Sekien drew was the related yokai Tsurubebi, which was included in *Gazu Hyakki Yagyo* (1776) — the predecessor to Zoku Hyakki. The original text for Tsurubebi is Yamaoka Genrin's *Kokon Hyaku Monogatari Hyoban* (published in 1686; the "Tsurube-oroshi of Nishinooka" tale in Nishiyama, Kyoto), which theorized the strange phenomenon of a large tree's spirit turning into a fireball and descending from the tree on rainy nights using the Five Elements theory (Wood generates Fire). In other words, the "Yokai Tsurube-otoshi (a severed head or demon mask falling from a tree)" and "Sekien's Tsurubebi (a mysterious fire dropping from a large tree)" are separate lineages that diverged after the Showa era, and Sekien did not directly depict the former. No primary visual sources with the name "Tsurube-otoshi" from the Edo period exist, and it mainly appears as local folklore in Taisho period topographical records and folklore collections. This is a critical correction that must be specified to maintain the academic quality of yokai.jp, and the widespread "1779 Sekien iconification theory" should be explicitly denied. The primary records of Tsurube-otoshi are Taisho period local materials and folklore collections. The Kyoto regional study *Kuchidanba Kohishu* (a Taisho era collection of folklore from Minamikuwada and Funai Districts) serves as the core historical document, recording it as a local legend of mountain roads, passes, and old trees in the Chubu and Kinki regions. The fact that the primary source is not Edo period iconography but local folklore oral collection is a unique characteristic of this yokai, making it an exceptional case that does not fit the generalization that "yokai originate from Edo period iconification." The local folklore of Tsurube-otoshi is concentrated in the Chubu and Kinki regions: 1. Kyoto Prefecture — Hoki, Sogabe Village, Minamikuwada District (present-day Sogabe-cho, Kameoka City; drops from a kaya tree, laughs "Finished your night work? Shall I drop the bucket? Squeak, squeak" and rises again), Tera, Sogabe Village (a severed head descends from an old pine, devours people, and disappears for 2-3 days when full), Tomimoto Village, Funai District (present-day Yagi-cho, Nantan City; a pine tree covered in ivy), Tsuchida, Ooi Village (present-day Ooi-cho, Kameoka City; eats people) — documented in the Taisho period regional study *Kuchidanba Kohishu*. 2. Kuze Village, Ibi District, Gifu Prefecture (present-day Ibigawa-cho) — drops a bucket from a large tree that is dim even during the day. 3. Hikone City, Shiga Prefecture — drops a bucket from tree branches aiming at passersby. 4. Kuroe, Kainan City, Wakayama Prefecture — similar lore. 5. Tamba-Sasayama City, Hyogo Prefecture. 6. Mikawa mountainous region, Aichi Prefecture (folklore in Toyone Village, etc.). It has a geographic characteristic of concentrating around ancient trees (pine, kaya, cedar, zelkova) along mountain roads, passes, and shrine grounds in the Chubu and Kinki areas. Its behavior is bifurcated by region: The Kyoto lineage is predatory (eating people and staying full for 2-3 days), making it a lethal yokai; the Gifu-Shiga lineage is intimidating (only dropping a bucket to scare people), causing little real harm. The Kyoto lineage features a specific predatory pattern of "not appearing for 2-3 days when satiated," and was feared as a murderous monster rather than a mere scarer. On the other hand, the Gifu-Shiga lineage, as its name suggests, simply drops a "tsurube (well bucket)" from a tree to startle people, a relatively harmless yokai positioned between a "supernatural threat" and a "laughing matter." Despite sharing the name "Tsurube-otoshi," the entity itself varies significantly depending on the region, providing an excellent example of the regional diversity of local legends. The modern visual of a "red-faced, bearded, disheveled old man's head" depends heavily on Shigeru Mizuki's artwork and is not the original standard form in local folklore. The original form varies widely by region, splitting into three lineages: 1. A solitary severed head (Tera, Sogabe Village, Kyoto), 2. A formless monster that drops a well bucket itself (Gifu and Hikone, Shiga), and 3. A spirit type accompanied by laughter and speech (Hoki, Sogabe Village, Kyoto). The image of the "red severed head" was popularized through Shigeru Mizuki's manga and anime such as *GeGeGe no Kitaro* and *Akuma-kun*, becoming fixed as the modern general image, but from a folkloric perspective, the standard form changed pre- and post-Mizuki. This is also a perfect illustration of the decisive impact "Mizuki Yokai Culture" had on Japanese people's perception of yokai. The idiom "autumn days drop like a tsurube" (a metaphor comparing the rapid darkening of the autumn sunset to the motion of a well bucket and rope plunging down at once) has no direct lineage connection to the yokai Tsurube-otoshi. They share the same metaphorical source of "a well bucket = something that falls rapidly," but the idiom was established independently as a meteorological expression. However, the fact that the concept behind the yokai's naming (the three elements of falling speed, darkness, and surprise) stands on the same metaphorical foundation as the idiom is noteworthy in cultural history — demonstrating the richness of Japanese metaphorical culture, where an everyday tool like a "well bucket" evolved into both a meteorological phrase and a yokai name. Distinctions from similar yokai: 1. Tsurubebi (the mysterious fire dropping from a tree in Sekien's *Gazu Hyakki Yagyo*, which, as mentioned, is the Edo period origin lineage that diverged from Tsurube-otoshi in modern times), 2. Kodama (tree spirits in general; Tsurube-otoshi is an "individual monster dwelling in a specific ancient tree," a variant of the kodama lineage), 3. Kosoma (an acoustic supernatural phenomenon making axe and falling tree sounds in the mountains, different in nature from Tsurube-otoshi which primarily relies on visual dropping attacks), 4. Severed head lineages (Otoshikubi, Kubikireuma, etc.; they share the "head" aspect, but the Kyoto lineage's severed head in Tsurube-otoshi is an independent yokai entity, not a monster of decapitation). Toriyama Sekien's four-part yokai series consists of *Gazu Hyakki Yagyo* (1776) -> *Konjaku Gazu Zoku Hyakki* (1779) -> *Konjaku Hyakki Shui* (1781) -> *Hyakki Tsurezure Bukuro* (1784), and all images are publicly available on the National Diet Library's NDL Image Bank. Tsurubebi is included in the "In" volume of *Gazu Hyakki Yagyo*. When listing Tsurube-otoshi on yokai.jp, it should be clearly stated that typeOfSource = "Local folklore (Chubu/Kinki)" and firstAttestedSource = Taisho period *Kuchidanba Kohishu*, while explicitly denying the widespread misinformation of the "Edo period Sekien iconification theory." In modern yokai culture, it was popularized by Shigeru Mizuki's *Yokai Zukan* and the bronze statue on *Mizuki Shigeru Road* (Sakaiminato City, Tottori Prefecture), and appears as a Kyoto yokai in *GeGeGe no Kitaro* (3rd season VA: Masato Hirano, 5th season: Hisao Egawa) and *Nura: Rise of the Yokai Clan*. As an excellent example of a grassroots yokai originating from local oral tradition being popularized by Shigeru Mizuki's artwork, Tsurube-otoshi is an important case study showing the modernization mechanism of Japanese yokai culture — a fascinating yokai situated at the intersection of folklore studies, art history, and media theory, demonstrating a modern yokai circulation route from unillustrated Edo period local folklore to Taisho period oral collection, Mizuki's popularization, and modern anime and games.

A version that preserves only the appearance seen in early modern picture scrolls. Key features are a horse-like face, cloven deer-like hooves, upturned eyeballs, clothing, and a stance with both forelegs braced. No behavior or abilities are recorded. The name is understood as a visual pun on the written word for “baka” (fool), and any allegory remains speculative. Later embellishments are avoided here; description is confined to the iconography.

The Void Drum is told as a phenomenon that is sound without form. On Suō-Ōshima’s beaches and capes it is heard most around June, especially from dusk as the wind shifts until midnight. Locals relate it to sea roars and echoes among rocks, recording it as a case where natural sound and a spiritual event are inseparable. Oral lore says a troupe of performers once had their boat swallowed by a storm. They beat their drums desperately for rescue but never returned, and in that season ever after the drum’s resonance rose again over the sea. Some describe the tone as light, rapid strokes like a rope-tension drum, others as a single broad beat like a shrine drum, with reports varying by listener. In some areas people press their hands together to console the sea spirits and avoid treating it as an ill omen. Dates and names are unknown and remain in the realm of oral tradition, yet it stands as a classic sea-village sound apparition.

A reference version reconstructed from 18th–19th century yokai picture scrolls that depict the figure without commentary. Only the massive upper body of a beast is shown, bearing large single hooked claws on each forelimb. Color varies by example from dark green to earth tones, with some renderings appearing amphibian. The name is associated with a word meaning fear and is set alongside Otoroshi in works like Hyakkai Zukan and Gazu Hyakki Yagyo. No behavior, ecology, or moral alignment is recorded, presenting it merely as an eerie presence of the mountains. Concrete folk traditions remain unknown, and later embellishments are excluded for lack of sources.

A traditional reading grounded in the side-by-side entries of the Testament Ghost and the Water-Begging Ghost in Ehon Hyaku Monogatari. The spirits of those who died with last words unspoken or burdened by thirst appear at night to plead for water. Individual names and deeds are seldom told; instead they serve as moral parables urging memorial offerings. When monks chant sutras, perform memorial services, feed hungry ghosts, or make alms to the dead, their thirst is said to be soothed with the symbolic “sweet dew” described in scripture. Told in both towns and villages, they appear where people and water meet—by wells, bridges, graves, and roadsides. They stir pity more than terror, and tales warn that rough treatment brings a curse, while respectful rites lay them to rest.

A folkloric figure tied to the coasts and estuaries of former Tōtōmi Province, said either to descend from a straw doll set adrift by the monk Gyōki or to have signaled drought-stricken farmers with the sound of waves. It appears as a small child or tiny doll, with no fixed features. Its role is to foretell weather by wave-sound, indicating the approach of rain and wind by direction and intensity, allowing fishers to judge whether to launch and farmers to plan their work. It overlaps with ideas of water and dolls, kappa tales, and accounts under the name umibōzu, yet all remain within a frame that reads sea-roar as folk knowledge. Rather than an object of worship, it is a personification of awe-inspiring natural signs, and offerings or rites vary by region. Records rely on local materials and oral tradition, with details often uncertain.

A representative form from the Tokaido’s Sayo no Nakayama. The spirit of a pregnant woman murdered on her journey is said to have possessed a stone and cried each night for her unborn child. People performed memorial rites, and in time the spirit was soothed. Folklorically, it is tied to roadside memorials, Koyasu child-protection faith, and the erection of stone steles, reflecting an older belief that spirits dwell within stones.