🏛️ Traditional Yokai Encyclopedia

The Uwan is a yokai of uncertain identity found in Edo-period yokai art. In works like Sawaki Suushi’s Hyakkai Zukan and Toriyama Sekien’s Gazu Hyakki Yagyō, it appears as a humanlike figure with blackened teeth, both hands raised, startling people with its voice. With no attached notes, its origins are unknown, but backgrounds of estate walls or ruined houses suggest it haunts residences. Some point to its three-fingered hands as hinting at demonic nature, though this is not established.

Karakasa-Kozou is a yokai said to be an old Japanese umbrella (wagasa) that has transformed into a supernatural creature. It is most commonly depicted with a single large eye, a long tongue hanging out, and hopping on one leg, though some illustrations show it with two legs or arms. The earliest umbrella yokai images appear in Hyakki Yagyō Emaki picture scrolls of the Muromachi period. From the Edo era onward, the image became established through kusazōshi (illustrated books), ukiyo-e prints, karuta cards, and stage performances. Although direct oral traditions are scarce, Karakasa-Kozou is considered one of the most iconic examples of tsukumogami (animated household objects) that became famous mainly through visual representation.

A modern-era depiction of a gigantic roaming skull formed from the unburied bones of those lost to war and famine. Its chattering teeth are said to herald its approach, and it attacks travelers in deserted fields and graveyards. Emerging from print and popular media, it drew on Edo-period giant skeleton imagery, with its name and traits solidified during the Showa period.

A yokai depicted in Edo-period picture scrolls such as Gazu Hyakki Yagyō and Hyakkai Zukan as a one-headed, sagging mass of flesh. Its face and body blur together, sometimes shown without eyes, nose, or ears. Owing to the name and descriptions, it is often mentioned as an archaic form or kin of the faceless noppera-bō, but its nature and origins remain unclear. The scrolls provide a name and image with little to no commentary.

A mysterious figure often called the supreme commander of yokai. He possesses the uncanny power to slip into human homes without anyone noticing. Behind his breezy demeanor lies deep wisdom and insight, and he plays a key role in maintaining balance in the yokai world. Though hard to grasp, he may be the one who understands humans best.

Based on Edo-period picture scrolls, this version standardizes Furari-bi as a bird-shaped eerie flame wreathed in fire. It behaves more like a phenomenon than a corporeal being, with sightings reported from dusk through midnight. Confirmed cases of causing harm are scarce, and it shares common will-o’-the-wisp traits such as vanishing when approached and reappearing when one retreats. In Toyama it is called “Burari-bi,” often explained as a ghostly fire born from grudges or the unclaimed dead, though interpretations vary by region. The avian visage in the iconography is ambivalent, serving as a symbolic sign of the soul’s metamorphosis.

By day she appears as a beautiful woman, but at night her neck stretches freely. Torn between her hidden nature and a desire for connection, she embodies human duality, the public face and the private self. Her nocturnal form is not evil, but a yearning for freedom made visible.

Based on a broadsheet believed published in Koka 3 (1846), this version reconstructs a figure that appeared at sea, shone with light, and delivered prophecies to officials. Because the text states “as in the illustration,” appearance relies on the image; thus we avoid later Amabiko traits and confusions, noting only the referenced depiction such as a scaled body, long hair, a beaklike mouth, and three leglike appendages. The emphasis is on prophecy and dissemination of its image, with no explicit claim of directly suppressing epidemics. It foretells six years of abundant harvest alongside epidemic outbreaks, and presenting its portrait was accepted as a popular apotropaic act. Though said to originate in Higo Province, related tales appear nationwide with differing names and details.

Not an original Japanese yokai name, but a catch-all version for an adopted foreign monster image told as a gigantic insect lurking in sandy ground. Its body is sheathed in hard integument, and it is said to inhale prey along with sand through a tubular mouth. Poor of sight, it is generally understood to move by sensing vibrations and odors, and is often treated as a metaphor for nature’s wrath rather than as an intelligent being. To evoke traditional “underground monsters,” folklore sometimes fuses it with ideas of giant serpents, earth-burrowing bugs, and the doragon or soil-dragon, yet no distinct rites or taboos are attested.

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.

Shichihiro Nyōbō is a giant-woman tale widely told in Izumo, Oki, and Hōki, appearing at boundary places such as mountain paths, riverbanks, and shores. Her form shifts by locale: in Ama on Oki she is a wild-haired mocker who hurls stones, along the Shimane coast a sea-wind woman flashing blackened teeth, in Yasugi a beggar beauty trailing a long robe, and in Hōki a pallid grinder-woman who sharpens while singing grain songs. Common threads are excessive length of body or neck and the way laughter, gestures, or song serve as lures. In banishment tales, sword wounds link to petrification, with odd stones, mounds, or ancient trees named as origins, and some lineages claim heirloom swords or tack from these encounters. The cycle is not pure horror; beauty, begging for alms, and the humble fear tied to the sound of grinding grain mingle together, encoding folk lessons about handling boundary anxieties: do not meet the gaze, do not answer voices, avoid night roads. It is comparable to early modern long-faced demon-maidens, yet Shichihiro Nyōbō is marked by ties to local sacred landscapes of mountains and coasts.

Among the shiranui, the Parent Fire Guide of Hassaku is a high-ranking variant that appears before dawn on the first day of the eighth lunar month. A single reddish light, sometimes two, first kindles several kilometers offshore, called the parent fire by villagers. It then splits to either side birthing child lights, until hundreds and thousands form a single horizontal line. People say the line may stretch four to eight ri, invisible from the surf but clearly seen from headlands or heights a few ken above the tide wind. When the ebb runs deepest, about the hour around midnight, the flames breathe in unison, and distant watchers see a shimmer like dragon scales flickering beneath the waves. If chased the lights retreat, if neared they draw away. Launch a boat to seize them and they slip aside with the shadow of the current, allowing no approach while indicating only the heading home. Old records tell that when Emperor Keikō’s boat was wrapped in darkness, this parent fire rose far ahead and turned his prow toward shore. For this reason villagers revered the nameless fire, ceasing their nets and resting their oars at midnight on Hassaku, waiting for the line to unspool. The Parent Fire Guide is linked to the presence of a stormy dragon god, yet it shuns harming people and instead warns against arrogance and haste. Boats that grasp for quick profit wander bewildered along the line and must furl their sails, while those who heed the tide climb a shore pine to read the fire’s breathing and slip out quietly with the break in the lights. Offshore shoals then prove gentler than expected, and on the return the embers sway by the coastal shadow to welcome the boat. So pure is the parent fire that villagers murmur Thousand Lanterns or Dragon Lantern and press their hands in prayer, but if people call it coarsely and jeer, the line breaks at once and scatters into beach fog. Wind does not fan it larger, it waxes and wanes only by the pulse of the tide. Thus from capes and mounds it appears a tidy band, while from the wave edge it cannot be seen. They say the Parent Fire Guide can even shift the angle of shrine shimenawa by the sea and the hue of lighthouse flames, and when the sacred rope bows slightly seaward at night, it is a sign that far offshore the lights are being born. Elders who know this tell young crews, Today the tide falls and the fire will rise, refrain from sailing. Unlike man-made flames it leaves no ash or smoke. Only at one hour after dawn do shells on the flats shine pale rose, and dew on reed tips holds the fire’s afterglow. On such mornings villagers cast salt upon the beach and give thanks for the lives guided by the fire. The Parent Fire Guide opens the way to those who know awe and courtesy, withdraws from the overproud, and quietly redraws the boundary between sea and humankind.

A divine fox with nine tails, its golden fur gleaming and eyes a striking blue. This is the earliest deified form, revered as a messenger of Inari. It bears a millennium of wisdom and understands the subtleties of the human heart. At times it takes human form to fall in love, teaching the meaning of profound devotion.

Itsumaden slips into the night as if dissolving into darkness, flying while wreathed in black and violet miasma. Its wings are unnaturally large, its eyes gleam eerily, and its gaze instills a crushing sense of dread. Its voice rings out like human speech, whispering “itsu made…”—how long remains—foretelling the listener’s lifespan. It is said to appear before calamities and wars, inspiring both fear and reverence among the people.

This entry centers on Toriyama Sekien’s imagery, supplemented only minimally by the popular explanations found in modern yokai handbooks. Citing the anecdote of Song Yu of Chu, Sekien likened a woman laughing alluringly over a wall to the spirit of a wanton. The plate itself does not detail temperament, degree of harm, or methods of dispelling, offering only form and associative origin. Later commentators emphasize a dry laugh heard by one person alone on an empty road, framing it as a psychological apparition that provokes fear, shame, and unease. Tangible harm is rarely noted, sometimes limited to shock, freezing in place, or fainting. Its hauntings are not tied to a specific region, and are imagined wherever sightlines are blocked—along city walls, crossroads, or over hedges—though sources are not cited. Accordingly, this version keeps Sekien’s visual prompt at its core, treating confusion by laughter as an ancillary function.

A monk-shaped yokai tied to toilet taboos. In Toriyama Sekien’s Konjaku Gazu Zoku Hyakki it is shown spewing a bird from its mouth, with the note that chanting “Gambari Nyūdō, hototogisu” on New Year’s Eve keeps it away. The belief links ominous cuckoo calls heard in the privy to the characters for kokkō (cuckoo) and the Chinese latrine deity Guo Deng. Local versions vary in name and behavior.

A standardized image of the battlefield will-o’-the-wisp as seen in Edo-period picture scrolls and ghost tales. Most appear as multiple pale fireballs at midnight, drifting low as if against the wind. They are thought to rise as spirit-fire from the defilement of blood and corpses saturating the ground, each flame regarded as a fragment of the aura of soldiers and horses. Accounts describe repetitive behavior—circling fixed spots, appearing and vanishing, crossing rice-field ridges—rather than chasing people. Witnesses would recite prayers to withdraw, and villages calmed them with memorial services. Sekien used the term “Kosenjō-bi” to group uncanny fires at battle sites, framing many postwar fire tales found in works like Yadonokigusa. Malice is rarely attributed; they were respected as signs of unsettled souls.

Akaname is a yokai said to appear in old bathhouses or abandoned bathrooms. It is usually depicted as an impish child with a long tongue, sneaking in during the night to lick the grime, mold, and scum stuck to tubs and walls. Although rarely described as harming humans directly, its very appearance was regarded as an omen of uncleanness and served as a cautionary tale to keep the bath area clean. Alternate names include Akaneburi and Aka-neburi.

Amanosagume is a priestess-like goddess named in the Kojiki and Nihon Shoki whose pronouncements of fortune and ill omen can overturn situations. Said to have accompanied Ame-no-Wakahiko, she once declared a singing woman’s voice inauspicious, reflecting an older stratum where divine intent and spoken proclamation tied closely to political ritual. The Kojiki writes her as Amasagume, while the Nihon Shoki uses Amanosagume. Fragments of the Settsu Fudoki and Man’yō poetry tell that she moored in Takatsu aboard the Heavenly Rock Boat, linking her to the toponym lore of Naniwa. Whether she is counted among heavenly or earthly deities varies by source, and honorifics applied to her are inconsistent. Folklore studies sometimes view her as a prototype of the contrary amanojaku, though others stop short of a direct syncretism. Few rites to her survive today: at Hirama Shrine in Wakayama she is revered as Amasagume-no-Mikoto, and at Shoten Shrine in Sagami she is remembered as a goddess who seeks bonds. Avoiding creative additions, her character within the sources can be summarized as a goddess who moves events through divination and declarative speech.

Tengu are powerful yokai and semi-divine beings believed to inhabit Japan’s mountains and forests. They are often depicted with red faces and long noses, or with birdlike features such as beaks and wings, allowing them to fly. Closely associated with yamabushi (mountain ascetic monks) and Shugendō practices, tengu are portrayed as masters of martial arts and spiritual power. Depending on the tale, they may guide and train ascetics, or mislead and punish those who are arrogant or impious.