Tonight’s story is a ghost story, because what would Halloween be without a ghost story? Unlike much of what we’ve read earlier from Mimibukuro, this story is not analytical or skeptical; it is a straight up ghost story. I think it’s a perfect fit for the chilly, rainy Halloween we’re having here in Fukui. Enjoy!

Also, just in case you haven’t checked it out yet: this is the final night to back Echizen-Wakasa Kidan on Kickstarter! Don’t miss this awesome book of local folktales!

Happy Halloween!

The Ghost of the Akasaka Sergeant’s Wife

This took place during the previous year of the monkey. A teahouse proprietor working along the horse road had business in Fukagawa, and as night fell he was passing Reigan-ji Temple. At that moment, he saw two ghostly fires – one red, one blue –  but they vanished in an instant. He was a courageous man, so he walked on to the end of the temple without a thought. Then, a young woman’s voice called out to him, so he turned back.

The woman said, “I am the wife of a certain sergeant from Akasaka, but I died of illness and am buried in this temple. My husband has taken a second wife, but she is an intensely jealous person, and because of this I am not able to pass on. I beg of you, please tell this reason to my husband…”

And then she vanished into thin air. The man thought of just leaving it be, but then he thought, “If I don’t tell him, who knows what will happen?” Since he happened to be near Akasaka anyway, he searched around for the sergeant’s place and requested an audience. Being a stranger, his request was denied at first; but when he insisted, the sergeant agreed to meet him.

During their meeting, when he conveyed the young woman’s plea, the sergeant said, “My second wife’s deep jealousy is also driving me to my wit’s end.”

The sergeant gave thanks for passing on his late wife’s words, and offered the man a reward before they parted ways.

Later, the man again had business in Fukagawa and was passing by Reigan-ji at night, but this time he did not see any ghostly fires. However, a voice did call out to him. When he stopped to see, a faint female figure appeared.

“I am deeply grateful to you for passing on my words the other day. That new wife has also died, and now I have no more impediment and can finally pass on,” said the woman, bowing in gratitude.

Astonished, the man went back to the sergeant’s place to inquire about the situation.

The sergeant explained, “When my second wife died, I feared there would be trouble if I buried her in the same place; so I had her sent to her family’s temple.”

He then confessed, “My second wife was an intensely jealous person, and one time she begged a favor from me. When I asked what it was, she said, ‘Please give me your first wife’s burial tablet.’ When I asked her why, she was insistent, so I just told her, ‘Do whatever you like.’ She immediately brought the burial tablet to some hidden place and chopped it up into pieces with a hatchet. After that, she fell ill and died. What a dreadfully jealous woman she was!”

Good grief, it’s October 30th! Back in New Jersey we always called this Mischief Night, although I’ve recently learned that’s not a thing in other places. Of course here in Japan it’s just October 30th, and much to my dismay the stores are already putting up Christmas decorations! At least wait until November, for the sake of Halloween!

Two quick reminders before tonight’s tale:

First, my Kickstarter ends on October 31st at midnight! This is your last chance to join and get your name listed as a backer in the book! So don’t miss out on your chance to back this amazing collection of never-before-seen folktales from Old Fukui. These are the last 48 hours, so check it out now if you haven’t already!

Second, A-Yokai-A-Day ends tomorrow, so after tonight there is only one story left! For members of my Patreon, that won’t change much, as I will continue to post regular updates there (albeit at a more reasonable pace). However, the number of free, public blog posts I make will decrease. If you’re not already a Patreon member, now’s a perfect time to join so you don’t lose access to deeper discussion about each yokai (plus other cool benefits, like the monthly postcards and high res artwork). You can join up here.

Alright, now let’s take a look at tonight’s penultimate story! This tale is #700 from Negishi Yasumori’s Mimibukuro — the final story from volume 7. This was a particularly tricky one to envision. The creature is so sparsely described, and its dimensions are totally unbelievable. It almost sounds a bit like a pangolin, except that pangolins have arms and legs, and of course are not native to Japan. And they’re not 9 meters long either… Or else it sounds like an anaconda, but these are also not found in Japan, nor are they hairy with a weasel-like face — and yokai stories generally have no trouble identifying when a creature is a snake, as snakes have long been thought to have supernatural powers. So snake-like, but not a snake. Yet what else could it be? The final line in the tale satisfies me in the way vague yokai tales often to: “Nobody had any idea what kind of creature it was.” Negishi is just as confused as we are!

The Monster Under the Veranda of the Hikosaka House

In the third year of Bunka (1808), the year of the tiger, a minor construction manager named Hikosaka Kyūbei was assigned to Sunpu Castle and had to relocate. While preparing for the move, a strange creature emerged from beneath the veranda.

Its head was like that of a weasel, it had no legs or arms like a snake, and it was around two shaku (60 cm) in girth. Its entire body was covered in hair like palm bark, and it was probably around three jō (9 meters) in length. It came out from under the veranda and entered the garden, formed a ring and circled around the garden for a while, then it went back underneath the veranda. Nobody had any idea what kind of creature it was.

With only a few days left in October, I thought it would be fun to turn up the dial on creepiness! Tonight’s story mixes humor and horror — two things that go together better than anything else. As someone who loves shopping at second-hand stores, there’s always some element of mystery with each item. You wonder who its previous owners were, what sort of things it saw, why it was sold. If the item was haunted, would you want to know? Would you keep it? In the case of this particular stove, a little investigation pays off!

The Strange Stove

This happened a long time ago. A day laborer living in Kaitai-chō bought a stove, set it up in his home and began cooking with it.

On the second night, he looked at the base of the stove and was startled to see a dirty priest’s hand emerge from beneath it. The next night he tried it again, and sure enough a priest’s hand emerged in the same way.

He thought, “If I install a box underneath the stove and fill it with split firewood, nobody will be able to get in.” But, bothered by how disturbing it was and at a loss over what to do, he went back to the place he bought the stove from.

“That stove is no good. Please exchange it for a different one,” he asked.

He paid a little bit more than the original price, but he swapped it for a different stove. After that, nothing strange happened.

Now, it came to light that one of his fellow day laborers had procured the first stove, and when he asked where it had been purchased, it turned out to be the same shop where he had bought and returned it. A day or two later, he visited his fellow day laborer.

“It’s the strangest thing… every day something eerie happens beneath that stove,” he said.

The man said, “In that case, let me tell you my story… I also bought that stove, but something eerie happened so I brought it back and exchanged it. You should probably exchange it too.”

And so, this man also paid a little extra and exchanged it for a different stove.

The man found it all too strange, and he went to the secondhand shop he had bought it from and asked, “What happened to that stove?”

The dealer replied, “I sold it to someone else, but it came back again.”

So the man explained the whole story in detail.

The dealer became somewhat angry and said, “There is no way that could happen! That would ruin my business.”

“If you think so, put it in your own kitchen and try it yourself,” replied the man, and then he left.

The secondhand dealer thought, “There must be some reason it was returned from not one but two places…” And he set it in his kitchen and used it to boil tea. That night he watched it carefully, and sure enough, a dirty priest’s hand reached out and crawled around. At dawn, he smashed the stove to pieces. Upon doing so, five gold coins fell out of one of the corners.

Some said that a monk or the like must have stashed a few gold coins there before he died, and his spirit lingered behind.

Tonight’s yokai is one that pops up from time to time in yokai tales, but is far less common than kitsune or tanuki, or even mujina. This is a mami, a beast whose name today means badger, but has been identified with different mammals in different parts of Japan for centuries. They seem to straddle the line between badger and raccoon dog, but there has never been a hard and clear definition for what animal this word refers to. From Negishi’s entry, It sounds like even in the Edo period there was some confusion as to what kind of animal the mami was. The final line of this story is precious! I hope you enjoy it!

The Strange Beast Called a Mami

There was a man named Matsuno Hachirobei who served as a messenger for some time before retiring due to illness. His estate was in Banchō. In the spring of the 6th year of Tenmei (1786), the year of the horse, there was a wild rumor that a strange beast had appeared at his estate.

A certain man named Yoshida who worked for Hachirobei later came to work for me, and I inquired about the truth of the matter. Yoshida had stopped working for Matsuno by then, but when he asked an old colleague of his, the details of the story matched perfectly.

One night, something leaped out at a guard who was patrolling the grounds. The guard tried to drive it away with his staff, but the thing latched on to the staff. Startled, he fled to the home of another employee, Nakamura Sakubei, and hid there.

Sakubei immediately went out to investigate. It was much bigger than a dog, its eyes gleamed like the sun or moon, and its skin was gray. When he struck it with his staff, it felt like hitting a toad’s back. Gradually, other people came out and chased the strange beast away. The beast entered a great thicket on the edge of the property and, since it was a dark night, it vanished from sight.

After that it never came back, but what on earth could it have been? Yoshida recounted that someone said it was something called a mami, but could such a thing be possible?

Tonight’s story may be a familiar tale to many of you. That’s because I’ve talked extensively about Inō Mononoke Roku in the past on this blog. I even did an entire A-Yokai-A-Day on this amazing legend several years back, which are viewable in the archives.

That this story reached Negishi on Sado Island (or perhaps Edo, if he was there at the time) is a testament to how popular and widespread this legend was. It was truly known all over Japan. It’s also interesting, because Inō Mononoke Roku is generally known to have some elements of truth to it — many of the people and places in the story really existed. This account seems to corroborate that, as Negishi heard this tale directly from a person who had some close contact with the story (and is now a retainer, so clearly must be a reliable source!).

Incidentally, I climbed Mount Hikuma with my wife and Nagano-san a couple of years ago and, me being terribly out of shape and unathletic, I nearly passed out.

This is the stone that has been dubbed the legendary stone where Inō Budayū and his sumō wrestler friend went, although that’s entirely speculation.

The Yōkai of Hikuma Mountain, Geishū

Within Hikuma Mountain in Geishū lies an area that is forbidden to enter. There is a seven shaku tall stone pagoda inscribed with the elements of earth, water, fire, wind, and void, and legend says that a yōkai named Sanmoto Gorōzaemon lives there. However, there was a brave samurai named Inō Budayū. He and his close friend, a sumō wrestler, said:

“Why, in this day and age, should there be mysteries? Hey, let’s go to that cursed place on Hikuma Mountain and drink sake.”

So, they grabbed their bamboo flasks and went to the mountain, and they spent the entire day there drinking before heading home. About three days later, the sumō wrestler died for some unknown reason.

Starting the day after Budayū returned from Hikuma Mountain, strange things began happening every night at his place too, and continued for sixteen days. Even his servants asked for time off, and fled the house. Budayū wasn’t the least bit disturbed, and he remained dauntless. On the sixteenth day, the yōkai, perhaps having grown bored, introduced himself:

“Well now, brave man. I am Sanmoto Gorōzaemon.”

At that moment all of the strange phenomena ceased. Apparently the most difficult one to endure was when it smelled as if his rooms were scattered with manure. The filthy, foul stench was quite disturbing.

This was recounted by a man named Kobayashi Sensuke, who had lodged at Budayū’s place and is now a retainer of Lord Matsudaira of Buzen.