Folk Legends of Japan (6 page)

S
OME STORIES MAKE
such an impression that, once heard, they can never be forgotten. Such a tale is this.

There is a place called Sendatsuno in the suburbs of Ochi-machi, Takaoka-gun. It is on the way to Matsuyama, over the Ohashi bridge, along the Niyodo River. Long ago an earless Jizo by the name of Mimi-nashi Jizo [Earless Jizo] stood there. This is the legend concerning it.

Once on a time there came wandering into Ochi-machi from the direction of Matsuyama in Iyo a blind biwa-player named Joryo. In those days, that district of Ochi-machi was called Mio-mura, and it was far more lonely than it is today. The chief priest, Senei, lived at that time in the temple Yokokura-ji. He called Joryo to his temple and let him stay there. He asked him to play his
biwa
before the tablets of the deceased to console their spirits, and sometimes it pleased him to listen to the music himself

Gradually, however, one of the young priests of the temple became aware of a strange, repeated occurrence. Every night Joryo stole out of the temple on tiptoe and came back at dawn. A priest-official, hearing of this, summoned Joryo and asked why he went out nightly. Joryo said: "I am strictly forbidden to speak about this, but since you are a man of the temple from which I receive such great favors, I cannot but tell you the reason."

And he began to talk as follows:

"Every night, at the time of the
ne
(nowadays 12 midnight), a warrior who seems to be a messenger from a man of high rank comes to this temple to fetch me. As I follow him, we come to a house on a hill. This house is like a court, with long corridors and a wide inner room where there are many women who seem to be court ladies. I am led into this inner room, where I play the
biwa
and sing for them the
Heike Monogatari.
But, strangely, I must not utter a word about the Genji. I am told that the site of the court is Mariganaro."

The priest-official was excited to hear this and told the details of the story to the chief priest, Senei. Senei wondered greatly, murmuring: "'Tis a strange story, indeed. In Mariganaro lies the tomb of the Emperor Antoku, who, while very young, sank with the last of the Heike into the sea. To be invited there is truly an honor, but when a man of this world mingles with men from the other world, he is sure, in the end, to become one of them."

Senei sat for a long time before the tablets of the deceased and recited sutras. Then he called Joryo to him and said: "You still belong to this world, certainly. I should like to save your life, so I shall sever your relationship with the other world." And he spread scented water for incantation all over Joryo's body; then he strictly forbade him to go out that night, telling him not to move when the warrior-messenger arrived.

Next morning, the chief priest and the priest-official hurried to Joryo's room to see how he had fared. To their surprise, they found him lying face down, in a faint, with his ears cut off. At once the chief priest realized that he had forgotten to spread the scented incantation water on the blind musician's ears. The priest felt deeply sorry for the deformed blind man who must now go earless through life. He invited him to stay on at the temple as long as he wished, and he took care of him with great kindness.

Thus several years passed. At last the poor blind biwa-player set out alone from the temple for his final trip to the other world. The people of the temple buried his body carefully at Sendatsuno, north of the temple, and set up there an earless Jizo in his honor.

And it is told that, since that faraway time, the worshipers at this shrine have always called the statue the Earless Jizo of Sendatsuno.

THE RED NOSE OF THE IMAGE

This legend has been studied by Kunio Yanagita in a translated article, "The Japanese Atlantis,"
Contemporary Japan,
III (June, 1934), pp. 34-39- However, he associates it not with Uryu Island, as in the text below, but with the island of Korai west of the Goto Archipelago in northwestern Kyushu, and with one of the Koshiki islands off the coast of Satsuma. In both cases the face of the image was painted red by wiseacres and doom followed, fulfilling the prophecy. In literary form the tale appears in two masterpieces of the Heian period (794-1185),
Konjaku Monogatari
and
Uji Shui Monogatari,
which show influences from China or India.

Text from
Bungo Densetsu Shu,p.
110; collected by Takako Tanabe in Hayami-gun.

H
IGH
P
RIEST
B
EACH
takes its name from High Priest Ippen, who lived there in olden days. One day he called the villagers together and said to them: "My last moment is drawing near. I am going to the now, but my spirit will remain in the image carved on that rock. If ever a calamity is destined to occur in this district, the nose of that image will become red."

At that time Uryu and Kuko islands were in Beppu Bay, and the scenery was as beautiful as a picture. Uryu Island possessed a fine harbor, and the islands flourished as pleasure resorts, attracting many visitors to their numerous hot springs and handsome buildings.

A day came in the second year of Keicho [1597] when the nose of the image on the rock suddenly turned red. The news spread rapidly from mouth to mouth throughout the village. When the people heard it they were filled with fear, and made ready to escape. Before they could do so, with a tremendous sound there occurred a great eruption, an opening up of the earth, a landslide of the mountains, and a tidal wave, all at the same time. Not only were all the houses with their inhabitants and animals destroyed, but the islands vanished into the sea.

Hundreds of years have passed since that cataclysm. Now the fishermen of this district say that when they row their boats into the open sea on quiet days, they can see a stone pavement at the bottom of the sea, and this they believe to be Uryu Island.

THE PRIEST WHO ATE THE CORPSE

A similar tradition from India is cited under Motif G36.2, "Human blood (flesh) accidentally tasted: brings desire for human flesh." Hearn's grisly story "Jikininki" in
Kwaidan
(XI, pp. 198-204) tells of a priest in a mountain district condemned for impiety to assume monstrous shape and feed on corpses of deceased villagers.

Text from
Edo no Kohi to Densetsu,
no. 58, pp. 125-26.

Notes:
Ombo,
a person whose trade is dealing with dead bodies; regarded as very mean and low.
Kasha,
a specter which bears away dead bodies, sometimes coming to a funeral and taking coffin and all.

F
ORMERLY
there was a temple called Tokusu-in at the southern side of Anyo-in in Shiba Park. A man who lived in Hiroo asked the Tokusu-in to perform the necessary rituals for a certain dead man. The temple accepted the request and sent a hanger-on priest to the house of the dead. By mistake that priest cut off about one inch of the dead man's head when he shaved his hair. As he thought he could not make proper apologies for his error, he put the piece of flesh into his mouth. To his surprise it tasted very good. After that he could not forget that taste. He wished to eat such flesh once more. So one night he secretly dug up the corpse and cut it into pieces to eat. This time the flesh tasted more delicious than the flesh of the head. He wanted to try once more.

Soon after that a new corpse was buried in the grave. The priest thought it a good opportunity. He stole into the graveyard in the dead of night and dug up the corpse and ate it up. Thus again and again he dug up the grave whenever a new corpse was buried. At first the chief priest of the temple thought that some dogs or foxes had done these things. But as the matter became more and more horrible he grew suspicious. Other people, too, grew curious about the affair. One night when the priest was at last caught on the spot, he had to confess all about eating the corpses. He was exiled and driven away. After he had wandered through many places, he came back to Edo again and became an
ombo.
When he was about to eat, suddenly a
kasha
appeared on a dark cloud and took the priest up in the sky, tore his body into pieces, and disappeared.

It is not clear when this event happened but it is said that during the era of Kansei [1789-1800] there was in Edo a priest who ate men.

THE MONK AND THE MAID

Anesaki, in his chapter on "Local Legends and Communal Cults," relates this story of the "Hira hurricane" that occurs annually since the death of the hapless maiden (pp. 254-55). In his version the monk is replaced by a lighthouse keeper, and the girl deliberately jumps into the lake when the light fails to appear, praying that a storm destroy the lighthouse; her dying curse is fulfilled.

Text from
Nihon Densetsu Shu,
pp. 162-63, under "Legends of Ferries." Told by Hiroshi Morita.

I
N AND AROUND
Otsu in Omi Province, they are sure to have stormy weather at the end of March every year. They call that time
Hira no hachiare.
By that they seem to mean that Mt. Hira rages for eight days.

At a little distance to the west of Yoshinaka Temple, which stands at the east gate of Otsu, there is a ferry called Ishiba. There was an inn named Harimaya beside that ferry. It still exists today. In former days a young Buddhist monk spent a night there. A pretty maid of the inn fell in love with him at first sight. Unable to suppress the passion flaming in her heart, she stole into the monk's room late at night. Needless to say, she poured out all her longings for him and tried to win his affection. But the monk was a man of such strict morality that he would not be moved. However, he must have felt sympathy for the extent of the woman's love for him, for he told her that he was a hermit at the foot of Mt. Hira beyond the lake, that she should row in a big washtub from Ishiba to his place one hundred nights continuously if her longing for him were strong enough, and that he would fulfil her desire if she could accomplish the feat.

It was a very difficult task, and one by which he aimed to evade her once and forever. When the night came and the bells of Mii Temple rang out, however, she started from Ishiba in the tub and, passing the shore off Karasaki and Katada, reached a place from where she could see the light of the hermitage at the foot of Mt. Hira. After gazing at it for a while, she returned home. She continued this for ninety-nine nights. The hundredth night came. The maid was cheered by the thought of attaining her purpose at last. She rode over miles of waves and came to the place which commanded the view of the light. But what was the matter? There was no light, but only sheer darkness. She must have been cheated, she thought. At that moment, a storm came down from Mt. Hira and overturned the woman's tub in an instant. In great agony and chagrin, she was drawn to the bottom of deep water as if she had been a leaf of seaweed.

It was on March 20 that she was lost. Because of her passion, they say, the lake rages around that date, even now.

THE SHRINE OF THE VENGEFUL SPIRIT

This legend is a good example of the
goryo,
the spirit that harbors a curse at the time of its unnatural bodily death and hence must be enshrined. A comparable tradition in Yanagita,
Mountain Village Life,
pp. 390-94, tells of a refugee warrior in Kita-mura who hid himself in a hollow tree and was betrayed by a girl signaling with her eyes to the enemy; they pierced his chest with an arrow, but from his dying curse the girl's family suffered chest ailments. The refugee is now deified as a local god. Similarly in Yanagita,
Fishing Village Life,
pp. 110-11, an account is given of Engen-sama, a refugee betrayed in Okinoshima-mura by the Matsuuras, who now worship him to deflect his curse that their children would die young. The general motif is M460, "Curses on families."