Pathway to Japanese Literature

1. *Okina* and *Okina* Dance

From the genesis of *Okina*, focusing mainly on its formal aspects, I wished to consider its development.
However, regarding the "*Okina*" unique to each individual artistic tradition, I had no choice but to rely solely on supplementing my knowledge through tonight’s gathering of esteemed colleagues.
It was Sarugaku that propelled *Okina* art to new heights.
I earnestly hoped that the process by which *Okina* became a set form equivalent to Dengaku’s “Nakamon-guchi” could be made somewhat understandable.

The term "*Okina*" had incorporated impressions from terminology examples of *Okina* that differentiated within the realm of performing arts from early on.
At the very least, the *Okina* in our conception was not merely an old man.
It was something that superimposed the artistically formalized *Okina* onto the actual *Okina*.

The ancient meanings of *okina* and *omina* (old woman) seem to refer to those of higher status among village elders in agrarian communities’ religious rituals. When considering the existence of *oguna* and *omina* alongside *okina* and *omina*, one discerns that the distinction between “great” (*o*) and “small” (*wo*) was assigned to the suffixes *ki/ku* and *mi/mu*. In other words, this appears to have been an ancient term within a social organization rooted in age-based hierarchies. When spirit pacification rituals employing dance came to be regarded as a principal component of religious ceremonies, the art of the okina—the leader of dancers—branched into a distinct aspect known as “Okina dance.” It would be reasonable to conclude that grand song-and-dance performances and the Okina of divine play—linked to Gagaku’s *Saisōrō* or the fragmented forms of *Ama* and *Suriko*’s Okina dances—were recognized as the Japanese-style “Okina dance.”

Owari Hamanushi’s

“Could even Okina dwell in such solitude?
When grasses and trees flourish, they come forth and dance” (*Shoku Nihon Kōki*).

The dance composed with these words, I believe, existed at this intersection of eras. In the Okina who performs the Okina dance, one finds no self-awareness as a mere old man. The term *okinasabu*, alongside *otomesabu* and *kamisabu*, appeared to have originally indicated the suitability of costuming and performance in ritual dances.

“Okina-sabi—let none reproach it.
In hunting robes, if only for today—even the crane cries out.”

And as for the song from the song-tale lamented by the old man of Ariwara—was this not too an art song born from Okina dance?
The sheer number of aged laments in the Miscellaneous section of the *Kokin Wakashū* could hardly be deemed unrelated to the poetic songs of Okina dance.
For my part, I have even come to think that there may have existed groups beyond those of us styled “Ariwara” who made Okina dance a principal item in their performance repertoire.

Just as the mountain witch—once a mountain priestess—came to be reimagined as a mountain specter, so too did both the figures of Okina dance and its performers come to be called “Okina,” evolving into both a role name for the leader of dancers (ninchō) and a designation for the deities themselves—often spiritual beings—they represented, or rather, forms through which those deities manifested.

Therefore，from the medieval period onward，＂Okina＂ could no longer be considered solely as an old man in real life．
The Okina chosen as the subject of this evening’s discourse would elucidate the origins of its dance，and I believed，settle on restoring it from the distorted forms of the early modern period back to its original state．

II. The Aged Figure at the Ritual

Over two summers, the academic achievements I obtained through traveling around the Okinawan Islands—grounded in lived experience—were intimations of Okina’s formation.
In the traditions of those islanders who preserved former Japan into the present day, I witnessed how the Okina—formalized into performing arts on the mainland—still persisted as a living classic, half-embedded in a sense of reality and perpetually reenacted.

I have often stated on other occasions that in the land of Japan, there existed a belief in deities called Tokoyo-gami since before the formation of the state. This is something that might be better referred to as "Tokoyo people". The first appearance of the characters for Tokoyo-gami is found in the *Chronicles of Emperor Saimei*; however, this seems to involve later associations formed after the original form was forgotten, whereas previously, deities such as Omoikane-no-kami and Sukunahikona-no-mikoto were also Tokoyo gods. However, the Tokoyo people before their refinement seem to have been regarded as a type of spiritual intermediary between gods and humans—a form that appears to be the oldest.

I believe that the original meaning of the term *hito* approximates what later eras would call “divine beings”—referring to those who appear endowed with sacred qualifications. The chamber blessing in the *Kenkōki* concludes with the phrase “my Tokoyo people.” This was a term that praised the elderly guest of honor. From being called *Tokoyo no kunibito* (people of Tokoyo no kuni), it came to signify both those long-lived visitors from Tokoyo and simply long-lived people of this world.

The Japanese people believed that Tokoyo people came from the other world beyond the sea. Initially thought to arrive only in early spring, they later came to be considered frequent visitors. The spring festival and harvest festival continued from dusk until dawn. Between these existed another: the winter festival. The winter festival was a spirit pacification ritual. When autumn, winter, and spring became fixed in calendrical terms, these festivals too became divided. With each occurrence, Tokoyo people would arrive to perform purification and spirit pacification rites. This caused temporary festivals to proliferate endlessly once more.

They began welcoming gods of early summer attending rice-planting festivals, while during seasonal transition rites, spirits of ambiguous purpose—whether imparting or receiving malevolence-dispelling incantations—also came to appear. These divine visitors, rare yet frequent in their arrivals, had originally manifested only at annual turning points. Distinct traces remained of these Tokoyo people having borne responsibility for imparting adult precepts to village youths. The ritual gestures of spring field-striking—part of the spring festival—featured Jō (the elder) and Uba (the crone) as central figures. What later came to be reenacted in May was *Ta-asobi* (field-play). Though an *okina* called “field master” later emerged here too, its core elements had transformed. It comprised: the motions of a straw-cloaked giant and his entourage of procession deities; young maidens laboring under harsh trials; and ritual dance-dramas pledging oaths against enemies, pests, and beasts. This was *Ta-asobi*’s true form—the foundation of Dengaku—preserved before its merger with ritual-master arts.

I could not help but admire Dr. Takano’s assertion regarding the existence of a performing art called “Jushi Sarugaku.” However, the principal art was Jushi (ritual masters), while what might be termed its degraded or auxiliary forms were Sarugaku that had been incorporated into Jushi—seemingly referred to either simply as Jushi or alternatively as Jushi Sarugaku. It is my contention that this “Jushi Sarugaku” evolved into Dengaku through its transformation into Ta-asobi (rice-field play). To put it plainly, one may state that Dengaku originated from the Ta-asobi performed in May. In Dengaku, this Sarugaku preserved its vestiges in the supporting role of *modoki* (comic imitation). In Sarugaku noh—renamed Nohgaku—it underwent repeated transformations, even evolving into Kyōgen performers. The supporting roles too, of course, emerged from this lineage. To approach a conclusion: though Okina itself underwent refinement, it remains valid to assert that Kurojō preserves Sarugaku’s primordial form.

Within a portion of *Sarugaku*’s terminological examples existed meanings of proclamations or narratives that might be termed “entertaining wit,” dating back to ancient times before the warrior class’s ascendancy. Even entertaining wit—down to its foundational narrative material—came to be articulated in such terms. This indicates both that *kyōgen*’s original phonetic kanji rendering meant “entertaining words” and that *Sarugaku* diverged into two paths: narration (言) and performance (能). That Nohgaku came to be called exclusively Sarugaku, I believe, stemmed from this latter aspect having become predominant. The incorporation of *kusemai* melodies into tales of antiquity and the realization of festive comic proclamations drove the advancement of *Sarugaku*’s principal performing arts. As for its Noh artistry, it appears to have drawn elements from predecessor art forms such as *kusemai* and Dengaku noh.

In *Sarugaku* Noh, the Okina treated these proclamations and narrations lightly—having emerged from a branch of the Shōmonshi school’s *kusemai*—and showed a tendency to prioritize *henbai* ritual stomping artistry.
However, originally, *Sarugaku* itself had been part of *Dengaku*.
Therefore, even in *Dengaku*, *Sarugaku* was included among its performance categories.
I believe this [*Sarugaku*] emerged independently from the Jushi arts and their successor *Dengaku*’s supporting roles—the *modoki* roles that simultaneously served as Kyōgen performers.

Therefore, it seemed Dengaku too had contained Okina's proclamations and narrations. However, even when Dengaku noh was fully imitated and became independent, Sarugaku noh itself could not lack its own distinctive characteristics. This meant Sarugaku noh was the main lineage of Okina. As for narration, it likely branched into aspects like opening chants and various declarations. Both opening chants and declarations were originally contained within Okina traditions. The analogous opening chants preserved in Nara and the opening rites of supporting roles in Edo’s Yanagi-no-e similarly represented this divergence. That these were called “comic imitation” and performed by supporting roles corroborated the facts. Did not the relationship of these supporting roles—and Kyōgen performers—to Okina-style rites, combined with the belief that Okina preserved ancient forms, suggest Sarugaku had been an auxiliary art? The difference from Dengaku lay in emphasizing ritual dance aspects over those incorporating nenbutsu dance elements.

Sarugaku’s form prior to its amalgamation with Jushi was a form that focused primarily on winter spirit pacification and was deeply connected to spring field-striking rituals.
The oldest impressions of the group-traveling deities attending rice planting remain in the *Harima Fudoki* as numerous fragmented tales, apart from the myth of Susanoo-no-Mikoto in the *Kojiki* and *Nihon Shoki*.
During this period, the Tokoyo people themselves—once believed to come from beyond the sea—came to be thought to descend from the heavens and were even regarded as giants dwelling in the mountains.
Consequently, while the name *Tokoyo people* changed and their appearance, character, and social standing underwent changes, some beliefs remained in their original form, while others emerged as composite forms combining two traditions.

Our research method was grounded in experience.

The gathering of materials and excerpting of notes in the study were all merely means to evoke a tangible sense of antiquity inherent in traditions. This was what one might call an anthropological history grounded in tangible experience. Not fixating solely on the Okina of a single performing art, we had to build upon knowledge of its forms as manifested in ancient rituals and theatrical dances predating Jushi Dengaku—such as Dengaku, Kagura, Kabuki, and other contemporary arts—and further obtain an intuition akin to lived experience by observing performances then being enacted.

Having traveled through the islands of Okinawa, what I observed and heard were three patterns that I will now discuss.

III. Okinawa’s Okina

In a form where, beyond the two ancestral spirits (male and female), a multitude of retainers processed in groups to visit each household.
This was a Bon festival observance (1).
A form where spirit-beings resembling humans—bearing either an otherworldly appearance or solemn majesty—traversed sea or caves to bless villages and homes.
These occurred during festival days such as Qingming Festival (2).
Accompanied by crowds considered the main family’s head—the village clan leader—and clan representatives, an elder who was a former clan leader would come to the dance ground. With the village blessing as the central event, they performed village-specific kyōgen plays (resembling Noh kyōgen or impromptu dramas), followed by displays of various arts.
In some villages, when the elder’s procession reached the stage—summoned by the household head’s upraised fan—their principal deity would arrive from the prosperous land beyond the sea to conduct a ritual of conferring grain seeds before departing.
This deity was named Girai no Ōshu; the elder was called Chōja no Ōshu; and the household head bore the title Oyakomoi.
This was performed at the Dōman-sai festival (3).

I obtained even greater assistance from the reports of Mr. Shimabukuro Genshichi and Mr. Higa Shuncho than from the knowledge I observed firsthand.

Among these, (1) was closest to the form of the Tokoyo people.
From Ōyamato beyond the sea—or rather, from what appeared to have been renamed Angamaa, a land once hypothesized to exist—the day when two ancestral spirits (one male, one female) and the ghosts of other deceased villagers arrived became syncretized with the Bon festival. Prior to this amalgamation, it was considered that they had come as Tokoyo people during the Qingming Festival, which signified early spring.
The elderly man at the center—accompanied by an elderly woman—referred to as *Ōshu-mae* occasionally rose to deliver admonitions, teachings, blessings, and the like.
In the interim, there was a display of skills by the retainers.

From this as well, the original form of the Tokoyo divine visitors—as inferred from mainland historical records—comes into gradually clearer focus.
What connects with this is rite (3).
This is called a village dance and also referred to as a village play.
It regards ancestral spirits as a single entity called Chōja no Ōshu and forms retainer spirits into a procession.
Though they have now forgotten this original conception, there remains no doubt that these were beings who came from the sacred land of the other world.
Oyakomoi likely altered how they awaited the procession beforehand by positioning himself as one who received blessings directly from its advance.
The addition of Girai no Ōshu occurred because people had forgotten Chōja no Ōshu's original purpose, leading them to conceive an additional deity of blessing.

When this transformed into pattern (2), it took on various forms.
There were cases where two deities called Naruko and Teruko were considered sacred lords of the other shore, while others regarded them simply as a single sea deity.
When further refined, they became gods of Nirai and Kanai beyond the sea, then were conceived as heavenly deities of a realm called Obotsu and Kagura.
The historicized version of this became the married couple deities Amamikyo and Shinerikyo.
In parts of the Sakishima Islands, there existed traditions where deities called Maya no Kami and Tomomaya were said to come from Maya no Kuni—a sacred otherworldly land—appearing as misshapen gods wearing palm-frond rain hats.
Similarly widespread across the Sakishima archipelago were two giants named Akamata and Kuromata after their mask colors, who emerged draped in vines and wearing masks of terrifying visage.
In some regions, a figure called Aomata would appear instead, emerging from caves or capes distant from villages.
This was what should be termed a demon.
Compared to areas purified through association with Nirai no Ōshu, those arriving here from Miyagi assumed forms meant to occupy a position between ancestral spirits and deities.
If the monstrous forms of ancestral spirits and feelings of awe persisted in a world that had forgotten their connection to those divine visitors, people would inevitably come to imagine giants who arrived solely to bestow blessings, administer punishments, and deliver admonitions.

When this came to be regarded as sanctified and ethicized, it became the deity of Nirai-Kanai.

IV. Elder and Crone

When we consider this, one can envision forms of divine visitation: two ancestral spirits (male and female), a single holy being, or a deity arriving accompanied by a procession.
The form of divine visitors in mainland Japan—persisting from ancient through modern times—remains singular in essence.
To speak of sacred ancestral pairs immediately conjures the form of “elder and crone”—the Takasago pine spirit paired with Sumiyoshi Myojin.
Long before the Noh chant *Takasago* offered such an exemplar, people had conceived this duality of elder and crone.
By the early Heian period, even within the “Hiyamayama” float of the Daijōsai—a representation of Mount Hōrai—dolls depicting an old man and old woman had already been erected.
In an age when Tokoyo had become Hōrai-like, none found it strange to install these two ancestral spirits—divine visitors from Tokoyo—in place of immortal sages.
Sumiyoshi Myojin’s manifestation at Takasago embodies both a deity descending from beyond Tsunokuni—as perceived from Banshū—and faith in divine conjugal unions.

Among Japanese texts, it was the *Jimmu-ki* that first accurately recorded the Takasago-style faith in divine visitors.
The ones who went to retrieve soil from Mount Kaguyama to ritually sanctify it as a representative object of Yamato were Shiine Tsu Hiko and Otowaza.
While Otowaza has traditionally been regarded as male—regardless of whether Eukashi is considered a brother or sister—this figure was in fact a female shaman.
The male became an old man, and the female disguised herself as an old woman; they penetrated enemy lines and fulfilled their mission.
This is a story that came into being because there existed the faith of the Tokoyo people.
The enemy were overlooked, and their side came to possess the reinforcement of incantations and ritual methods by which they were blessed.
Incantations and ritual methods were believed to have been brought from the land of Tokoyo.

The form of *Toshigami*—also called *Toshitokujin*—who arrive at year’s end to become guests on the New Year shelf in early spring was described in many regions as resembling the Elder and Crone of Takasago. In that case, they were the two ancestral spirits (father and mother). Unlike the Tokoyo deities conceived in relation to the sea, *Toshigami* in recent times were generally thought to come from the mountains. Even among deities sharing the same name, there appears to have been considerable differences in character between ancient and modern eras. However, when observing how *Toshigami* and *Ōtoshigami*—transmitted by the Izumo people—were grouped alongside mountain deities (*yamatsukami*), it seems they were perceived as beings dwelling within the mountains. In ancient times, there had been a reason for shifting from sea deities (*umitsukami*) to mountain deities (*yamatsukami*). In modern *Toshigami*, associations with grains have diminished while calendrical connotations of annual cycles have grown prominent; however, this name is thought to have been preserved through popular Onmyōdō practices that repurposed ancient divine names. Hence, directional associations emerged.

Even among Toshigami that come from the mountains, there are those considered to be only a single entity.
There are also regions that believe in group processions.
Toshigami have attendants.
When this occurs, it comes closer to the belief in ancestral spirits' visitation.
There are households and villages that do not hang the Toshigami shelf or prepare New Year ropes and decorations.
These households and villages have preserved the manner of welcoming Tokoyo deities predating the mountain Toshigami, and it is likely many have forgotten the origins of their household traditions.
However, there seem to be other reasons as well.

V. Mountain People

The reason they came to imagine the Land of Tokoyo in the mountains was that the coastal people had migrated to mountainous regions.
Originally, among the original inhabitants of the mountainous regions, such faith may have existed.
However, according to what I have observed in written records, there were many instances where the characteristics and duties of the sea god had been transferred to the mountain god.

I had now come to explain—though it was a complex matter—the divine mountain people known as yamabito.
Yamamoribe and Yamabe were distinct administrative groups.
I regarded Yamabe as a collective term for mountain dwellers.
Their overseer was likely Yamabe no Sukune.
Just as coastal clans were called *ama*, mountain clans bore *yama* titles like Yamanao and Yamakimi.
The sea people fell under Azumi jurisdiction—though they denied leadership over Ama-be.
Yet Yamabe clans clearly governed mountain communities.
Could even Azumi bloodlines truly diverge so far from maritime roots? I found this implausible.
As Yamabe neglected core duties over time,Yamamoribe-Yamabe distinctions blurred.
What manner of administrative entity defined these mountain folk?

In my hypothesis, they are posited as divine attendants serving the mountain deity.
There were instances when the Ama-be served the sea deities and, at times in their capacity as divine attendants of the sea, conducted rituals as sea deities themselves.
The offerings presented by the Ama-be served as proxies for the sea deities while simultaneously taking forms enacted by the sea deities themselves.
Through the Ama-be and Yama-be, I consider that one cannot simply declare them successors to the indigenous people.
I consider that there were cases where members of the same clan, chosen as sea deities and mountain deities, lived apart from their original home villages and, due to their increasing numbers, formed villages.

Of course, one could also consider the origin of the sea people’s and mountain people’s blessing-offerings (*kotohogi*) as arising from ritual proclamations of allegiance sworn by former inhabitants, but this represents a secondary form.
The initial form was this: to impersonate sea deities—that is, the Tokoyo people (the prototype of Watatsumi)—was the sacred duty of the village youths.
They entered mountainous regions and came to replace the Tokoyo people with the mountain god.
Hitherto, the representative recipient of the ritual methods and incantations of the Tokoyo sea deities had been the mountain god; therefore, this mountain god served the role of transmitting the incantations of the sea deities to numerous local spirits.
It underwent a reversal and came to replace the sea deities.

In that case, the incantations of the mountain god were neither ritual proclamations nor ritual presentations.
In other words, as mediators, they adopted expressions of equality—maintaining compromise in mind—to explain matters among their own.
This is what we call spirit-pacifying incantations.
The ritual proclamation was termed *norito*, while the ritual presentation bore the name *yogoto*.
Standing precisely between these forms, they persistently—in their capacity as mountain deities—addressed spirits as counterparts.
This was why mountain deities came to have mountain divine attendants.
Therefore, if we consider the sea people’s divine attendants—those acting as substitutes for sea deities—to be former inhabitants or a different ethnic group, then the mountain people’s role emerged afterward.
In other words, those performing rituals in place of sea deities came to hold positions lower than village chiefs.
The Tokoyo people had held higher status than village chiefs.
Thus, the sea people’s offering of submission vows—through congratulatory addresses and sacred offerings—came under further influence from mountain divine attendants.

Among the residents of fishing villages, a system of living separately to serve the gods was practiced, and men and women came to assume such sacred roles. The women were Tanabata maidens. It is likely that the villages formed among these people came to be confused with villages of a different kind. Mountain villages, too, were likely formed in the same manner. It is possible that these villages came to be mistaken for barbarian villages, but it seems they were rather clearly distinguished from groups such as the Kuzu and Tsuchigumo. The people of the Ama-be were not considered to the extent of being an alien race engaging in the so-called “ama’s clamor.” The people of the Ama-be were well-versed in ritual methods and incantations. That is the origin of the Urabe diviners throughout the provinces.

Even from among what could be called the minor and mid-level main families within the Ama-be people, couriers from the court ministries emerged.
These were the couriers of the Ama.
Among them, those who served the Jingikan Ministry of Divinities appear to have been particularly called *amahasezukai*.
Furthermore, from among these individuals, it appears that those referred to as Sea Kataribe emerged as court reciters.
The Ama Kataribe chanted spirit-pacifying incantations while primarily reciting what might be termed mantra-like songs among them.
This accounts for why “Ama Utagoto” came into being—it seems things sharing this nature that were neither congratulatory addresses nor formal spirit-pacifying incantations were called divine utterances.
At the conclusion of divine utterance songs existed an established form bearing set phrases resembling standard heavenly expressions: *“amahasezukai, koto no katari kotoba nari, koko ba.”*

The Umi Kataribe also coalesced among the sea people of the provinces.
Meanwhile, the Urabe of the sea people, who specialized in divination, returned and settled in various provinces, and the Urabe administrative groups spread.
The court’s Sea Kataribe later faded into obscurity behind the Urabe and came to proclaim the spirit-pacifying *kotohogi*—which they had performed—under the Urabe’s name.
This Urabe also extended their influence to the Bureau of Yin-Yang.
The costumed nighttime processions of the *Tōka* festival likely originated from the Urabe performing their role as Sea Kataribe, taking the form of group-procession deities; their ritual forms were influenced by the yamabito (mountain people).
They came to proclaim blessings upon the sovereign and the palace to demonstrate the sincerity of their submission.

VI. Mountain Offerings

This strange procession of high court caps had not even been performed by the mountain people.
The Man’yōshū records Empress Genshō’s imperial visit to the “mountain village” in Soejimo District along with a poem.

To shadowed mountains they must have gone—
Mountain people—who? (Prince Toneri—Man’yōshū, Book 20)

In an era when “immortals” were interpreted as mountain people, the inhabitants of the “mountain village”—a settlement of mountain divine attendants—were likewise mountain people.
This poem states that they went to meet the mountain people in the guise of divine mountain beings.
Those mountain people are none other than your esteemed self; they cannot be strangers.
The aforementioned mountain people are not thought to exist elsewhere—this being an ode interwoven with jest.
What prompted the expression of this poem was

When I went to the shadowed mountains, the mountain people bestowed upon me a mountain offering. This [poem] (Empress Genshō—Book 20 of the same volume)

This imperial poem likewise reveals a sense of delight born from the accumulated phantoms surrounding the term “mountain people.” But more than this, what requires our attention is the term “mountain offering.” The meaning of “household offering” has become inverted here. Mountain offerings and shore offerings represent examples of the original terminology—in the sense of vessels for gifts from mountains and shores respectively—where what those coming from the mountains present constitutes a mountain offering, which also came to signify wrapped souvenirs brought back from mountainous regions. Originally these were sacred mountain objects that mountain people would bring to villages. This fact connects to what will later be discussed regarding mountain witches—likely comprising mountain herbs, tree branches, parasitic plants, staffs carved from soft mountain wood, their short carved floral forms, and similar items—with temporal shifts occurring among varieties like mountain vines, fern leaves, mistletoe, wild ginger, mountain indigo, hollyhock, torreya nuts, and mulberry.

When we borrow Professor Yanagita’s research on ladles and consider it here, this too was a wooden ladle for the mountain people’s spirit pacification.
The deity Kuhisamochi in the *Kojiki* would be said to be not a god of gourd ladles but rather the name of the spirit of an ancient wooden ladle carved from wood.
As for this ladle—believed to have been called *kuhisa*—we cannot determine from when it became a mountain offering, but it seems to have existed since ancient times, unexpectedly.
Such mountain people come on the night of the spirit pacification ritual—an event of the winter festival held on the eve of early spring.
That is, they came in midwinter.
The significance of the Okina in the Wakamiya Festival seems discernible there.

The Okina of the Wakamiya Festival was not so much a lofty deity—as described in works like *Zoku Kyōkunshō*—but rather a *kotohogi* mountain deity; its ancient significance likely lay in performing spirit pacification for the deities of Kasuga Shrine and Wakamiya. The kotohogi of the Yasha gods and the Bodhisattva training rites performed at temples also stemmed from the custom of pledging to high-ranking beings. It was not strange that the kotohogi Okina would appear to offer pledges and blessings even to shrine deities. The Sarugaku families’ “pine accompaniment” was also likely performed in the evening as an old custom, but one could not say that the *Okina* emerged from this. They merely performed the “vessel-holding” ritual. The Hitotsu Matsu ritual preserved a single passage of Okina, but the subsequent ritual proclamations that included *tōka*-style stomping had vanished. So to speak, that a form of *Gosechi Senzai* originated from *Tōka* was likely due to the preferences of the samurai era.

In *Gagaku* as well, there were instances where performers altered the main dance into a child’s dance for *Waka* roles to perform.
In Sarugaku Noh tradition practitioners framed Okina performances as visitations by mountain people conducting spirit pacification rituals while interpreting three elders as representing ceremonial processions.
This analytical point would receive fuller explication later.
The Okina’s liturgical phrase “May this land endure for millennia” functioned etymologically through puns on wild ginger (*Dioscorea tokoro*) to ritually stabilize village territories—its declining usage reflected proliferating alternative formulae.
Moreover ritual composers incorporated fertility incantations resembling spring planting invocations precisely because Okina traditions had shifted focus from year-end spirit rites toward early vernal observances.
However since spring field-blessing rituals remained structurally continuous with spirit pacification ceremonies there existed valid rationale for Sarugaku’s mountain-dwelling Okina figures to emphasize calendrical spring transitions.
Let us reconstruct through comparative analysis an archetypal model of Sarugaku Okina’s primordial ritual configuration.

The Okina appeared and recited a ritual blessing.
This served to offer blessings upon the household’s master.
Afterward, the Senzai of Henbai appeared and, reciting, performed a stomping dance.
This was to pacify the shrine buildings.
Next, Kurojō no Sambasō appeared and, interweaving humor, performed interpreter-style gestures in response to Okina’s ritual incantations and Senzai’s choreography.
This also served as a blessing for the village’s livelihood.
This repetition not only clarified the Second Lieutenant’s intent but also increased the performative elements.
Thus, they thoroughly elucidated the relatively abstruse elements, simplified the ceremonial aspects, and deepened their connection to village life as well.
In Yamato, the villages of Sarugaku Noh troupes were often located on hills or mountains.
Particularly in the case of Toyama, its topography evoked the image of mountain people.

Even rituals like the pine accompaniment were events where they would fell spring New Year’s pine decorations—originally trees serving as invitation substitutes to welcome the New Year deity—and bring them forth.
The Hayashi ritual, celebrating the auspiciousness of the word “felling,” was thus a ceremony akin to the mountain people’s presentation of mountain offerings.
It appears that these memories, following the custom wherein temple slaves were regarded as descendants of Jishu gods and Yasha gods, came to manifest in the kotohogi ritual roles at the great temples of western Nara and in their service of unconventional processions during group pilgrimages.
This served to provide slight corroboration to Dr. Takano’s insightful theory that titles such as Kanze and Kongō represented families that underwent aspects of Bodhisattva training rites.

7. Mountain Witch

In *Sarugaku*, the Mountain Witch’s prominence may reflect influences from advanced arts, but we must also examine it through the lens of mountain people. The Mountain Witch was a shrine maiden serving the mountain deity—while *uba* conveys “old woman,” this term originated from her sacerdotal role, akin to “auntie.” Initially tasked with embracing and safeguarding the deity, this role later encompassed becoming the deity’s spouse. Given that many such shrine maidens lived to advanced ages, people likely came to associate *uba* with elderly women. Though interpreting *uba* merely as “crone” has ancient roots, its meaning expanded to denote women leading divinely consecrated lives. The woman designated as the mountain deity’s *uba* was compelled to dwell in mountainous wilderness apart from villages. The legend of the white-feathered arrow marking human sacrifices undoubtedly carries traces of this perception. I believe she lived akin to Tanabatatsume, descending to villages for both winter spirit pacification rites and likely spring festivals too. The site where Mountain Witches and mountain people emerged for spirit pacification was termed an *ichi*—the primal meaning of “market” in our land. On these nights, their arrival and dancing constituted the Mountain Witch’s dance; gradually, village practitioners capable of perpetuating this tradition must have arisen. This shift likely occurred when society forbade Mountain Witches from roaming wilds, transferring their spirit-pacification dances to disguised performers.

From the appellation “Mountain Witch,” people conceived of her as a woman dwelling in the mountains, and from imagining mountain people as akin to barbarians, oni, or tengu, they came to believe this figure too was a female specter of the mountains.
The ritual events that once came to the village’s winter festival became formalized, eventually ceasing to follow their traditional forms; turning into legends, they left behind only names and fragmented tales, ushering in an era devoid of substance. Precisely because they were winter rituals, they came to serve as material for winter night tales—thus people conceived of beings that were both human and akin to tribes of supernatural entities.
In contrast to the Mountain Witch’s *uba*, mountain men and mountain people came to be referred to as *yamaoji* or *yamawari*.
The term “Mountain Witch’s laundry day” refers to her appearing at the mountain well—it was likely the day when she performed purification.
The existence of tales about the Mountain Witch coming on market days to gorge herself and legends of her returning home with a small bag endlessly filled with items is likely because they exchanged these for the mountain offerings of the spirit pacification night, bringing back many village goods and provisions.
Moreover, I believe the impression that this container was a rather peculiar object must have lingered.

In ancient times, places referred to as markets were mostly located near mountains.
The Shikinenagaoshi Sukune family was likely situated at the end of a long hill due to there having been a market there.
This is said to be the person who marked the beginning of the Anashi mountain people.
The Furu Market was also such a case and was related to the Ōyamato Shrine.
The market at Eka in Kawachi, for instance, had become somewhat distant from the mountains.
This was likely a marketplace for commercial transactions.
Phrases such as “At the market at Umasake Eka, [they] did not exchange with value” (*Kenkōki*, *Mushoju*) also revealed an era when markets conducted barter.
Within the Yamatsumi lineage, there existed Ōichihime, who in legend had also come to be known by the name Yamamba (Mountain Witch).
All of this revealed the connection between markets, winter festivals, and the mountain witch.
This trading ritual evolved into ceremonial forms such as the bullfinch exchange on festival days and the practice where participants vied to claim items attached to dancers’ accessories or artificial mountains.

The divine dance of Ashigara Myojin appeared to form the foundation for Azuma-asobi (eastern dances). The shrine maiden who performed this divine dance was the Ashigara mountain witch. The belief that she nurtured deities remained preserved through tradition, with her being regarded as the mother of Sakata no Kintoki. Moreover, this mountain witch's dance came to be recognized as a representative "mountain dance" and was performed alongside Azuma-asobi at major shrines throughout the Kinai region. Among troupes and villages that staged mountain dances, this tradition must have been transmitted through generations.

Mountain offerings were hung both inside and outside houses as markers of ritual purification. The purified villagers secluded themselves within dwellings that had become sacred spaces of divine possession. This practice constituted the origin of New Year decorations. Sacred ropes too were those hung around mountains, fields, and trees. However, Hondahara Ichihin had long been employed as a symbol inheriting sea purification rites.

The use of kelp, dried sardines, and shrimp in mountain people's spirit pacification rituals could not be considered unrelated to maritime connections. In Kyoto during year-end periods, beggars called Ubadata reportedly appeared. Could these not have been practitioners of such traditions? The Sekkikō beggars who announced the year's end through their costumes evidently served as a type of mountain herald.

The perception of mountain deities as goddesses stemmed from viewing mountain witches as divine entities itself. In the Saio priestess's Nonomiya seclusion practices, might we not discern vestiges of these mountain shrine maidens' way of life?

8. Mountain Ritual Proclamations

In Yamato, villages of mountain people were scattered here and there.
In Anashiyama, those known as Anashibe or Hyōzube represented such communities.
This deity and his divine attendants resided high upon Miwa Mountain, restraining its violent divine power.
In Yamashiro Kamo, Hiei Mountain would later rise prominently.
The mountain people of Hiyoshi likely formed villages like Yase.
From beliefs that their ancestors served as temple yasha deities and descended from shrine-subordinated oni, villagers regarded these forebears as spectral beings.
Yet they ultimately adopted mainstream interpretations of mountain people as their village's origin.
From these settlements likely emerged participants in imperial court rituals and grand shrine festivals.
These practices later formalized into officials wearing disguises during ceremonies when mountain dances still persisted alongside spirit-pacification chants.
Mountain dances apparently also entered courtly traditions themselves.

With the mountain people of Anashi’s Makimoku Mountain—let them adorn themselves with mountain vines as people watch (*Kokinshū*, Book 20).

Such phrases endured because even when they no longer came from Anashiyama, people still regarded Anashi as the mountain people’s stronghold. That the defining feature of the mountain people’s appearance lay in mountain vines becomes clear through this poem. Their wigs likely differed from the ritual head coverings used in villages. The stories and songs transmitted by the mountain people cannot be known with the clarity of sea lore, though we may speculate. I maintain there is evidence suggesting Kuni-bu songs had circulated among the Yamabe clans. To this melody, both mountain people danced and the mountain witch must have danced as well. Yet the mountain people’s traditions perished relatively early, while only the mountain witch’s transformed manifestations endured.

Now, when the ritual proclamations and dances of mountain people began to be performed in the sacred mountain capital, the *hokai* practitioners of the sea people gradually took on characteristics of mountain dwellers; meanwhile, the status of the Tokoyo people was lowered like that of the mountain deity, their incantations shifting toward blessing formulas.
In the end, they became entirely like mountain people, abandoning their lives tied to the sea and rivers to roam the mountainous regions.
That group likely ascended from Hokuriku via the Shinano River, entered the northwestern mountains, settled there, and chose the deep Hotaka-dake to the south as their secluded land for mountain life.
They would occasionally visit plainland villages bearing mountain incantations, spells, and artistic practices.
The tale of a young god nurtured by humans to become a heroic deity—originally serving as Hotaka’s divine foundation—later transformed in authoritative texts into the success story of Monogusari Taro, a wandering noble.
The Ama-be—who identified themselves as the Azumi clan—must have entered Shinano through such routes.

Even as the mountain ritual proclamations and sea hokai had gradually merged, their respective designations still remained. Those who adopted the lifestyle of itinerant divine beings as a mountain people group were hokai people, while the itinerant performer troupes of sea people were apparently called kuzutsu. Later, hokai came to be called kuzutsu, and a confusion seems to have arisen where kuzutsu were referred to as hokai. The containers carried by hokai people were bentwood items made from mountain trees, and they referred to this travel gear as hokai. Kuzutsu was likely related to the ritual term kami-kokoto-musubi (divine spirit-binding), and their travel gear—grass-woven containers they carried—came to be called kuzutsu precisely because these items frequently caught the attention of people across the provinces. To that extent, they continued their vagrant missionary lifestyle. Mountain people are also a branch of the hokai people—puppet children are likely a splinter group of the sea people—and by performing mountain dances, they were classified under kuzutsu; yet even after abandoning the kuzutsu lifestyle of the sea people to take up mountain dancing, they were still called kuzutsu because prostitutes were regarded as kuzutsu, while hokai were considered celebratory beggars.

9. Yamabushi

Among the villages that had preserved mountain dances, there were many who dwelled deep within the mountains contrary to expectations.
During year-end celebrations, New Year’s observances, and other events, they would descend to the villages to perform mountain ritual proclamations.
This became the origin of the “hidden village” legend, and many felt neither wonder nor reluctance in inheriting such a lifestyle.
Those called “hidden villages” all maintained the ceremonial role of mountain people.
Among these mountain people, it was Shugendō—aware of Taoist-style practices and fragments of Buddhist-style doctrines that had spread among the populace from the late Asuka to early Nara periods—that first established this transformed Shinto; this path advanced entirely from mountain divine beings who prioritized ascetic living as their foremost principle.
Therefore, rather than imparting faith to villagers, they first directed them toward a life of repentance and abstinence—a transmutation of purification.
In essence, it became a doctrine of training in ascetic practices to obtain ritual techniques of efficacy.
Thus Shugendō merely incorporated the Hinayana-style ideal of asceticism and the Taoist ideal of freeing the human body to become an immortal into the lifestyle of mountain people who endured long-term isolation to retain the power of the mountain deity itself.
Even in later ages, when one stripped away the forms of temple ritual techniques, the form of Shinto modified by self-aware individuals emerged.
Kori—ascetic water purification—constituted a form of misogi ritual purification, while zange repentance formed one branch between secret confessions favored by Yamatsumi the mountain deity and harae exorcism.
Zen meditation and ascetic discipline comprised the ritual purification of mountain seclusion and served as prerequisites for conferring adult precepts and entitlement to divine-human status.

The belief that one only becomes a man after undergoing Ontake ascetic discipline does not appear to have originated in modern times; rather, it derives from ancient village regulations that mandated residing in mountainous regions, enduring abstinence and hard labor, and then receiving adult precepts—regulations that have entered the tradition in altered form.
The male-only mountain seclusion and the strictly enforced barriers for women were not learned from temples that barred women but were the form of an inherent secret society.
In contrast to the mountain deities and mountain people coming to be perceived as oni, they began to imagine tengu.
The oni of antiquity were not malevolent demons or rakshasa as in later eras—they held significance solely as giants.
They were likely in costumes similar to those of divine visitors from the Sakishima Islands, such as Akamata and Kuromata.
In Dengaku, oni and tengu seem to have been standard fixtures, but in Sarugaku, they took on the gentle form of Okina.
However, there are elements that clearly show the mountain-dwelling lifestyle—such as “Tani-gyō”—and the tengu too exist in countless forms: “Dairokuten,” “Kurama Tengu,” “Zenkai,” and others.
In Dengaku, there is only the impression of tengu; it cannot be discerned from the categories that remain today.
In terms of quantity compared to that, Sarugaku goes so far as to classify Tengu Dance as one of its subdivisions.
The distinction between *senpai* (senior guides) and *shindatsu* (junior initiates) also mirrors the relationship between village elders and the youth.
It may not be accurate to call it a remnant of mountain people’s lifestyle, but in any case, I must consider it.

The fact that tengu abhorred the blood of childbirth was discussed by Professor Yanagita in his early theory of “Tengu and the Mountain Deity.” Is it not that the customs and taboos of mountain deities or mountain people’s lives have been transmitted unchanged? Therefore, I believe Shugendō was a self-aware Shinto brewed among mountain people. Through this process, the mountain people too branched into various forms in their later stages.

As ritual arts developed in mountain villages, puppet plays and song recitations flourished in villages of sea people who maintained their original lifestyle. These practices gradually evolved into performance arts while being performed during festivals. Beyond ritual Noh, performance categories multiplied. Among them, some became itinerant performer troupes—a phenomenon we may consider to have existed from early times. Since the court’s kagura originated from the Ama-be clan, what corresponded to their puppets in court settings were the kyōgen performers’ *sainouo* (“talented men”). In preexisting ritual plays lacking puppets, this gave rise to *sainoutai*—humans assuming puppet-like forms. At shrines, *seinou* and *sainouo* roles were likely performed by actual puppets. No traces of dolls exist in mountain people’s rituals either. When attending court or shrine festivals, mountain people were likely assigned supporting roles—indeed, I have observed not a few instances suggesting they may have performed even *sainouo* roles themselves. The *sainouo*’s position relative to the leader (*ninchō*) was that of a comic imitation (*modoki*), their form akin to Kyōgen—a relationship mirroring that between Tokoyo’s divine beings and mountain deities. The Sarugaku of the *sainouo* lineage has come to adopt forms such as Okina, *ninchō*, *kurojō*, and *sainouo*. This stems from the inherent tendency to conflate deities and spirits.

The elements that should be considered as impressions of mountain villages are the origins of the custom that believed in the existence of spirits such as Yamabiko and Kodama—entities that engaged in voice-mimicking and answering-back.
Because such Sarugaku-style mimicry had developed within the mountain people’s arts—unifying their tree spirits—it was likely considered the actualization of an art form.
The exchanges of hayauta performed by the talented men are likewise comic imitation arts.

Sarugaku Noh inherited the tradition of mountain people’s dances; encountering the ritual music and dance of shrines and temples, it transformed, absorbed influences from folk miscellaneous entertainments, and ultimately changed so profoundly that its original origins became unrecognizable in its established form.
Could we not posit the hypothesis that terms bearing the character for gaku (entertainment) signify miscellaneous entertainments—with Dengaku being such—while mai (dance) represents a higher tier, belonging to the lineage of formal dance?
Therefore, the showy dances originating from temples are all called Kusemai, but Sarugaku was not even regarded as Kusemai.
In this respect as well, it was viewed as lower than Kōwakamai, which originated from Kusemai.
The treatment received from shrines and temples was also extremely low, I imagine.
It is thought that it could not even be compared to professional musicians or ritual musicians.

10. Okina’s Narration

In the northern mountains of Mikawa—centered on Minami and Kita Shitara Counties and bordering part of southern Shinano—I too had walked through these areas and could at least envision the outline of the Dengaku that existed in this region.
This fact—that it also existed in the mountainous areas along the Tenryū River in northern Enshū—had become known through Mr. Hayakawa Takatarō’s fieldwork.
The repertoire included a considerable number of well-developed categories; in regions not referred to as Dengaku, they were called “Flower Festival,” clearly preserving some of Dengaku’s distinctive features.
The Flower Festival preserved the original faith that had syncretized with Dengaku, having originated from the Buddhist invocation dances of the Spirit Pacification Festival; the term “Flower Festival” derived from blessing the sight of rice flowers blooming abundantly.
When spring flowers scattered early, people saw it as an omen of poor rice harvests; likening this to human affairs, they considered it a harbinger of epidemic outbreaks.
The rituals that blessed flowers in spring festivals came to be performed even more fervently around spring’s transition into summer. The Spirit Pacification Festival—which guided away disease-spreading deities, pests, and evil winds through exorcism—gave rise to Buddhist invocation dances seeking to avert calamities by dispersing human spirits. These dances were later doctrinally systematized into what appears to have become the nenbutsu sect.
However, they did not forget the practice of flower pacification.

Even within Dengaku，there remain Buddhist invocation dances themselves that are referred to as flower pacification rituals．That is，the Flower Festival．Regarding flowers，there are places that perform flower chants，flower proclamations，and flower dances，but they do not seem to consider them particularly significant．After all，these Dengaku traditions have likely simply inherited terms like “Flower Festival” or “Flower Dance” as they were originally called．The legend of Sakuramachi Chūnagon pleading to Taizan Fukun for floral longevity likely belongs to Dengaku and nenbutsu lineages．In this festival，the house designated as dance grounds represented an entire village，with participants believing its efficacy extended community-wide．This consisted almost entirely of multiple sets focusing on ritual stomping and pacificatory footwork．Yet within them，the Oni dance and Okina’s proclamations appeared to preserve Dengaku’s archaic form．The spring festival’s oni shared formal traits with Setsubun exorcisms and Shushō-e rites，but fundamentally manifested as mountain deities arriving with blessings．Thus，the oni was not expelled but performed ritual stomping—a dramaturgically authentic choice．That is，it embodied mountain people visiting to confer benedictions during spring rites．

Okina undoubtedly existed in every village, and in those holding Dengaku festivals, their presence was absolute. While their narrations varied in form, the principal types appeared to be origin stories and Journeys Down the Tokaido. That these Okina narrations were called Sarugaku seems to have been common practice. At Hōraiji Temple—the gateway to Shitara District’s mountains—evidence suggests that alongside Dengaku existed Jikyōgen performances referred to as Sarugaku. Until recent years, only ordinary plays were staged there, though its foundational form was Sanbasō, treated as a special performance genre. This local kyōgen likely enacted pieces akin to Sarugaku Noh in antiquity, though by modern times it staged nothing beyond Kabuki theater. That this Sarugaku-style Jikyōgen preserved Sanbasō alone stemmed from its unification with Edo theater and Okina’s status as Sarugaku’s defining emblem. Sanbasō’s centrality likely derived from its being the kyōgen most quintessentially Sarugaku within Sarugaku itself. In Toyone Village’s Okina performances, a comic mimic (modoki) would emerge alongside [the ritual elder], loudly reiterating his lines. At Hōraiji Temple’s Jikyōgen, many reportedly hid behind a rear curtain, repeating Sanbasō’s verses while providing musical accompaniment.

Even in the Flower Festival’s Okina performances，the performers were not limited to a single person.
In addition to Okina，there was typically a female mask called Matsukazemaru (or Matsukaze/Matsukage) and Sanbasō.
After Okina’s proclamation，Sanbasō—called Shōjikkiri in Shinshū Niino—emerged and delivered a kyōgen performance that surpassed even Okina’s comic lines.
Matsukaze’s gestures remained obscure，but since they performed the young role of Chitose with a young female actor，it adopted a style characteristic of Dengaku.
In Dengaku，women too had participated as performers.
Therefore，even the Chitose role in Dengaku Sarugaku had likely sometimes been performed by a female Chitose.
That may have become a mask.
Within Okina’s narrations existed phrases such as “Matsukaze’s very self—how bitterly cold it was!” or “Okina，venerated beneath the pine’s shadow—cold and sorrowful?”
Though such phrases existed，they lacked any systematic narrative structure—even if one might infer contextual relationships between them.
Such Okina roles were performed by three people even in this Dengaku.
The narration of Okina’s origins recounted his birth and his accompanying mother’s reminiscences，then exaggerated his own ugliness to provoke laughter.
From there，he spoke of having witnessed the vicissitudes of time many times during his life thus far，and the story shifted to Okina taking a son-in-law.
In preparation for becoming a son-in-law，he learned various things and made all sorts of blunders—there was a section resembling an amusing “rapid-fire tale.”
Sea Route Descent was a tale of the journey up to Kyoto and events after entering the capital，interweaving parts that induced ribald laughter during its course.

The narration of origins belonged to the lineage of divine proclamations declaring sacred genealogy, and with it, the form of recounting village and household histories had collapsed. Here too, Okina appeared in the guise resembling supporting actors or kyōgen performers. Journey Down the Coastal Route derived from hardship tales told by gods arriving from distant lands—this being the primordial form of processional performances—which early on took on aspects resembling narratives of divine wanderings or historical accounts of heroic campaigns. The processional performances emerging from this were already present in the *Kojiki* and *Nihon Shoki*. Moreover, this “manner of walking” manifested through stylized gestures even became an object of artistic appreciation—in other words, it constituted “preliminary performance art.” This originally existed as poetic texts conveying eyewitness accounts and imparting worldly knowledge, but underwent transformation over time.

11. A Certain Proclamation

After the above night’s discussion, we were permitted to hear Mr. Yamazaki Gakudō’s *Sarugaku no Okina*. I could not help being struck by the force born of that comprehension and fervor. I sense that even these subsequent narratives have likely absorbed much of its influence. Thus, portions anticipating Mr. Yamazaki’s yet-unpublished arguments seem poised to surface—a prospect leaving me ill at ease. Yet I ask you to regard this as nothing more than the inevitable comic mimic—that fixture of performing arts—springing forth in its wonted vivacity.

The reason I venture to say such things is not without basis.
It is because I consider it a matter of courtesy to strictly clarify and establish both the methodological path through which academic research has developed and the sequence of publication.
The genetic perspective of folklore studies that we engage in should naturally be maintained even in scholars’ own research publications.
To elucidate the process by which internal and external circumstances intersect and arise is a matter of far greater significance than rigorously organizing research methods.

Particularly in cases such as *Sarugaku no Okina*—where my own paper likely draws its logical continuity from research that has yet to make its records public—I felt that this preparation was crucial.

No matter how valuable or voluminous a paper may be, it has no right to overshadow the unpublished research that forms part of its foundation.
I have always regarded this alone as an illuminated attitude befitting a scholar of new, experiential learning.

12. Spring Divine Visitors

Professor Yanagita Kunio’s *Snow Country’s Spring* was published, its presentation meticulously crafted like pussy willows glittering amidst snowdrifts. To us, it truly felt like fresh tidings from spring’s divine visitors. Particularly for one such as myself—having my own shabbiness noticed amid such dazzling honor—this stemmed from how Professor Yanagita had magnificently nurtured my foolish hypothesis about the spring oni to fruition. This stands as a fact truly worthy of being offered as an exemplary anecdote to those who expound upon the master-disciple path in our world. In truth—presumptuous though it may seem—my own theories regarding the spring oni, Tokoyo divine visitors, and tidings gods derived from concepts Professor Yanagita had previously made public. Within *Small Notes on the Southern Seas* from *Southern Islands Travelogue* (serialized in the *Tokyo Asahi* and later published independently by Ōokayama Shoten), there lies—modestly composed with understated phrasing—the account of Yaeyama’s deities. Academic theories do indeed intersect in this manner, and I trust you perceive the sincerity with which I agonize over potentially misappropriating even a fragment of Mr. Yamazaki’s research.

It was early spring four years ago (Taisho 13).

The New Year’s Tokyo Asahi Shimbun published reader submissions about New Year’s events from various regions over several consecutive days.
Among these,

Have the catkins shed?
They have shed!

Have the red beans boiled?
They have boiled!

A report on the spring divine visitors of Tōhoku—who would chant such phrases while dancing their way into households—had been included.
I was surprised.
Didn’t Professor Yanagita’s logic—like a stencil pressed onto manila paper—fit perfectly with my hypothesis concerning Okinawan divine visitor deities?
In the snow-buried villages of Tōhoku, there still remained spring divine visitors of this form.
There existed a misshapen spiritual entity that had not fully transformed into a New Year deity, a fortune deity, or even an oni—one revered from both aspects of fear and respect.
I was acutely aware of such things.
I soon came to regard the actions of the yōkai that came inquiring about the presence or absence of those catkins as slight evidence that such practices had also been carried out in old Japanese villages.
Such were the etymologies and beliefs concerning *kase* (skin afflictions) and *monomorai* (ritual alms-begging).

This matter, I believe I must have later reported to Professor Yanagita, who had likely just returned from his second overseas trip at the time.

When I perused *Snow Country’s Spring*, it appeared that the focus was placed almost entirely on two aspects: spring divine visitors and the emergence of first-person narrative literature.
In particular, he concentrated his main efforts in chapters such as “Reading *Masumi Yūranki*” on reconstructing the state of the *namomi hagetaka* yōkai from over a hundred years ago.
The manila paper megaphone now obtained an imported loudspeaker—even larger in size and dazzling in appearance—that emitted a clear, sharp voice.

13. Snow Oni

Both in Masumi’s time and in the present day，it was evident that in snow-country villages，catkins were regarded as fire calluses．However，the belief that such practices existed to punish lazy individuals and worthless ones who would develop fire calluses appeared to be a later manifestation．

They said this in both *kasetori* and *kasatori*，but this term was used nationwide to mean “spring alms-seekers．” Kase was connected to kose and the like；furthermore，sores（kasa）and kusa were also general terms for skin diseases sharing the same root．Coming to take this served to eradicate epidemics afflicting people and fields．The phrases *namomi hagi* and *kasetori* had become formalized，but it had become clear that they were remnants of rituals performed by spring divine visitors．

The same applies to *monomorai* (ritual alms-begging).
The name likely stems from spring alms-seekers having been associated with this practice.
The appellation for this eye sore—now scattered across various dialects as a dialectal term—appears to demonstrate continuity from an era when ritual proclamations (*kotohogi*) still preserved primal beliefs and were performed by *marau-do* practitioners, up until the time when they became the roles of *hokahi* (alms-seekers) and *monomorai* (ritual alms-begging).
Namely, I had held the hypothesis that *marebito* sores were likely a type of catkins.
It is permissible to imagine, at least to some extent, that *namomi* sores are related to medicinal herbs such as *Xian Erzi* (枲耳子) and *menamomi*.
This grass, called “Yōfurai” even in China, was a foreign species.

The spring yōkai that I had thus conceptualized and incorporated into my rudimentary framework indeed existed in both Okinawa and old Japan.

Even the Yaksha deities enshrined in temples—from onmyōji and chanters to blind monks and Dengaku priests who intoned earth deity sutras—all transmitted incantations to rebuke and expel harmful things, diseases, and evils from homes and fields, thereby preserving the original semblance of these "divine visitors."

For several years now, regarded as incomprehensible by the people of remote mountain hamlets unknown to me, I spent several early springs in the mountainous regions of Suruga and Tōtōmi provinces.
In the Dengaku and related ritual dances I observed there, I indeed found formal proclamations rebuking the malevolence within households and fields.
This had mostly taken the form of what are known as ritual proclamations or edicts issued by Okina or its transformed variants.

14. Bodhisattva Ascetic Path

Upon merely seeing the ritual proclamations of the Ushi Matsuri, one might be astonished by such rambling verses, but knowing the path along which the so-called blessings of edicts expelling evil tended toward excessive exuberance rendered it no mystery.
Those were words proclaiming edicts to and subjugating spirits dwelling within human bodies and among all things inside and outside estate boundaries.

In ancient times, these had been rituals performed by divine visitors from Tokoyo no Kuni beyond the sea; later they became rituals of mountain deities representing earth spirits, then transformed into land deities fulfilling roles as mountain deities.
Thus while these land deities differentiated from mountain oni into forms called tengu and transformed from heavenly guardian deities into bodhisattvas, yakshas, and rakshasa deities, their relationship with villages—viewed through bloodline connections—came to be fixed in the forms of an old man (rōō), an old man (jō), and an old woman (uba).

Therefore, it was only natural that the central figures in these processions of mountain deity impersonators—who donned the forms of such mountain deities—aimed at delivering ritual proclamations and confessions were oni and Okina, and that they transformed into ordinary deity impersonators as jō or tayū in the role of alms-seekers.
The reason why Okina and the officials differentiated from Okina focused primarily on these ritual proclamations should be clear.
If I tentatively divide and examine Okina’s ritual acts,

Narration

Ritual Proclamation

Household/Village Praise

These became the three components.
And of course, their center lay in the Ritual Proclamation.
Yet these three were nothing more than differentiated forms arising from a single Ritual Proclamation.

15. Okina’s Ritual Proclamation

Those things bearing the name of Ritual Proclamation—or those arranged in ritual sequences as such—even when their phrasing had crumbled like some trifling lullaby, still retained a fearsome power of suppression against the spirits of all creation.
From the medieval period onward, alongside *norito* prayers and *saimon* invocations, a category called Ritual Proclamation came to be practiced among Onmyōji-style Shintoists.
Though differing in external form from the imperial Ritual Proclamations issued since the *Shoku Nihongi* era, they shared an essential nature.
In my analysis, these court Ritual Proclamations faithfully preserve the original form of ancient *norito*.
It was simply that *norito*—divine Ritual Proclamations—were refashioned into imperial Ritual Proclamations through the emperor’s status as a human deity.
In the *norito* of Tokoyo deities, emphasis lay in clarifying the origins and lineages of gods themselves and their attendant spirits, thereby renewing mutual recollection of past covenants.
The narrative recounting this foundational vow of spirit-subjugation constituted the most ancient form of *norito*—a shape existing simultaneously as magical incantation and epic poem.
When this diverged, the incantatory aspect became fixed as priestly *norito*, while the epic aspect evolved into reciters’ narratives.
Thus we comprehend why those assuming divine form to pronounce incantations employed phrases containing both narration and Ritual Proclamation.
The “household/village praise” developed during an era when incantations had further transformed into pacification formulae.
Broadly speaking, these should be termed *kotohogi*—roles largely emerging after mountain people’s appearance.

Okina’s narrations had gradually inclined toward didactic lessons and allegories, yet even within these narrations, the efficacy of the Ritual Proclamation-style was still present.
In the forms of household/village praise, of course, the purpose of pacifying the land goes without saying.

16. Pine Accompaniment

Dr. Takano had long maintained that the mirror-stand pine—used as the central element of Nara’s grand festival, or rather, as the crucial starting point akin to Dengaku’s middle gate—represented the first pine.
At the time, my opinion—which had faintly proposed the concept of “Marked Mountain”—fundamentally coincided with his theory, so I found myself in agreement without a second thought.

However, lately I had come to feel the need to consider these matters more minutely.
It was that the mirror-stand pine and the pine of the pine accompaniment were one and the same entity.
In other words, we could view it as a further divided form of the single pine.
The notion that “adorning pines” (hayasu) came to be reasonably interpreted as “cheering on the Akamatsu and Matsudaira clans” (hayasu) developed after the supporters of Yamato Sarugaku became firmly established.

For early spring, the practice of bringing down pine branches from mountain trees still persists today; the pine welcoming ceremony remains devoutly observed as a year-end tradition in every mountainous region. Just as there lies significance in not phrasing this act as “bringing down what has been brought down,” what we call “ritual preparation” (*hayasu*) too constitutes an act of cutting. Words like *hanasu* (to separate) and *hagasu* (to peel off)—where the “ga” becomes a nasalized voiced sound—belong to this lexical category meaning “to divide,” and like *fuyu* (to increase) and *fuyasu* (to proliferate), they appear to signify the division of spiritual essence. Regarding this, I can cite approximately three evidential example poems from the *Azuma-uta* section of the *Man'yōshū*.

The term *hayasu*, written with the ateji characters 囃す (to cheer), was often conflated with a group of terms derived from the etymological root *sakaeru* (栄やす, “prosper-increase”).
The act of bringing down trees from the mountains was none other than dividing trees inhabited by divine spirits.
Both transporting them and erecting them at estates to offer prayers became processes encompassed by the term “dividing.”
I believe it can be stated that this came to be referred to as *hayasu* (dividing) and *hayashi* (accompaniment), encompassing not only the instruments and vocal music of processions transporting this divided spirit wood from Yamato Sarugaku and other villages to Kyoto’s patron class—comprising temples/shrines, nobility, and samurai families—along with their surrounding processional dances, but even extending to rituals of erecting [the wood] at patron households’ estates.
In essence, what came to be called “Pine Accompaniment” (*matsubayashi*) in Kyoto after the Muromachi and Sengoku periods collectively referred to ceremonial events within estates and stylized processions (artistic displays) of Noh actors visiting to perform household praise—a practice originally conducted among Dengaku monks as well.
The central tree of that accompaniment—it remains unknown what species it was.
However, it is a fact that terms such as *Dengaku Hayashi* and *Hayashi Dengaku* existed; interpreting this “Hayashi” (林) as “village” (村) or “timber” (材) stems from a theory born of scribal errors.

This was the origin of Gion Bayashi, which spawned various offshoots in later eras.
Originally named for the music and artistic displays accompanying the hauling of Gion Hayashi—the ritual pine grove—it came to be perceived during summer festivals as what might be termed Kiyari Bayashi, associated with float-pulling and *dashi* cart processions.
Thus there were even instances where Gion Hayashi was interpreted as the sacred grove of Yasaka no Kami.
Of course, this bears no relation to a translation of *Gida Enrin*.
Wouldn’t this Hayashi Dengaku have emerged during the period when Ōmi Sarugaku performers were evolving into supporting roles for Dengaku Noh?

Wouldn't this Pine Accompaniment have continued to be regarded as the grandest event long after Sarugaku Noh became independent? This matter too likely centered around Okina, with his Ritual Proclamations, narrations, and household praises being conducted—though I currently find no evidence to substantiate this view. However, there were at least two events held on early spring's eve that arose from differing calendrical conceptions: at shrines, ceremonies beginning with Ichino-matsu of Kasuga Wakamiya Festival; at temples, Kōfukuji's February Takiginō. All these were accompanied by Okina and artistic displays. Moreover, waki-nō performances were also held. Takiginō likely held equivalent significance to Dengaku's middle gate entrance rituals, while the festivals could be called quintessential Pine Accompaniment. In these cases, pines weren't divided branches brought from mountains but standing trees themselves regarded as sites of divine manifestation—indeed termed "pines of divine manifestation." Okina didn't originate from festivals; rather, its First Pine Event reveals one ancient form of Okina. Both derived from faith in trees of divine manifestation or divided spirits. Takiginō's origins likely lie in yamabito of Okina-type erecting mountain-brought yamazuto wood at gateposts. Viewed thusly, mightn't Yase Doji's offered black wood from Yase also stem from yamazuto—timber signifying divided spirit offerings? This further becomes Toshigi and Kamadogi's origin.

17. The Gestures of Comic Imitation

I wish to emphasize the significance of *modoki* roles as a major element constituting Japanese performing arts.
When viewed in terms of modern *Sarugaku*, these correspond to *Kyōgen* performers.
However, it is within the opposition between gods and spirits—each with their retinue—that the fundamental unit of ancient Japanese ritual performing arts existed.
Therefore, in contrast to the main roles, there were merely those corresponding to supporting roles—or what are termed *ado*.
Within this framework, these supporting roles split and became *waki* and *kyōgen*.
To put it plainly, it would be more accurate to say that *waki* and *kyōgen* differentiated from *modoki* roles.

*Modoki* was a role name that flourished atop *Dengaku* and still remains within *Kagura* today as both the role of donning Hiyottoko masks and the appellation of the masks themselves.
The *modoki* role later came to be regarded as synonymous with *kyōgen* performers; however, in ancient times, it was a role name that synthesized *waki* and *kyōgen*.
I have previously addressed Sarugaku’s imitative foundations.
Now I sense I have met with an occasion to restate this.

The verb *modoku* was considered to have usage examples confined to meanings such as “to oppose,” “to act contrary,” and “to criticize.” However, in ancient times, it appeared to have had a much broader scope. At least in the history of performing arts, it became clear that meanings such as imitating, explaining, re-explaining on behalf [of others], and explaining to reconcile had been incorporated. Even phrases like “bearing another’s imitation” (*hito no modoki-ou*) likely originated from situations where one reenacted something so mortifying that they could not help but blush—thereby inviting mockery—and thus criticism arose; it must have fundamentally meant “to mimic.”

In Dengaku, the comic imitation roles appear to have been the domain of Sarugaku actors; moreover, I believe they also existed in other senior performing arts as modoki. Among these, it was likely those who seized the opportunity to separate from Dengaku Noh—with which they had the deepest connection—that established Sarugaku Noh as a distinct branch. It is much like how Saizō, attached to Manzai Tayū, underwent a gradual separation akin to the Kagura performers of the Owari and Mikawa coastal regions who organized troupes and traveled—there was no vigorous movement toward independence, but rather, a school was naturally established. This is a point where those who read Zeami’s Sixteen Treatises must particularly be urged to take note, for it is only through this that one can come to understand the attitude of temperate understanding toward Dengaku, Kuse-mai, and similar forms. At the same time as the main art of jushi ritualists—jointly referred to as Jushi Sarugaku—established the artistic practices of Dengaku performers, Sarugaku came to primarily take on Noh and Kyōgen. Therefore, to summarize, I believe it is reasonable to consider that even among those regarded as Dengaku monks, Sarugaku performers were indeed included with accuracy. The processions referred to as Hayashi Dengaku may have originated from Sarugaku performers (Ōmi) who served as comic imitators of Dengaku monks, and it may not be unreasonable to consider them as one and the same with Pine Accompaniment.

Sarugaku, as comic imitation roles, may have unexpectedly emphasized supporting roles from its long historical memory.
The inaugural performance conducted at Ryōei’s celebrations was a supporting role’s task and an honorable duty for Noh actors.
Moreover, in Dengaku as well, this existed and was conducted at the Nara festival.
This was what Dr. Takano collected under the name of “simulated opening.”
Therefore, while some may argue that there were two types of opening performances—serious and playful—I do not share this view.
The opening performances were the role of comic imitation and supporting roles.
It was likely thought to have retained the form of Sarugaku prior to its separation.

18. The Okina’s Comic Imitation

Having observed Dengaku preserved in Enshū and Sanshū’s northern mountains, along with related performances like nenbutsu odori, Kagura combining chanting priest-style dances, and Flower Festival productions, I felt the true essence of the *modoki* role had grown clearer.
It could serve as an explanatory role, act as a comic role, or signify a supporting role.
In the *modoki* emerging intertwined with Okina, all these elements were present.
The one straightforwardly called *modoki* was the role appearing with Okina—originally delayed by one interval after him (though now simultaneous)—that repeated phrases in a louder voice.
This assumed the formal appearance of a yin-yang master or Shugendō practitioner.
It served simultaneously as both explanatory and supporting role.
This also appeared when demons bearing weighty roles entered.
At such times, they conducted several question-and-answer exchanges with demons.
The *modoki* addressing demons was a supporting role.

The forms of Okina were repeated in several variations.
What were referred to as Negi, Nakatomi Harae—likely meaning the role performing the Nakatomi purification ritual—and Kaidō Kudari were all reenactments of the Okina role, amounting to nothing more than variant performances.
That is, the Negi—the actor who played Okina—narrated the origin and history of their arrival in that village.
Therefore, this was the Okina’s comic imitation.
However, in both Okina and this occasion, many comical modoki emerged and ran wild.
Moreover, beyond this, there had to always appear another Kurojō alongside the Okina.
In some regions this was called Sanbasō, while in others it was referred to as Shōjikkiri.
The fact that it was also called Sarugaku was something I had previously stated.
This was generally a role that rendered Okina’s ritual acts more accessible and elaborated upon them through explanation.
However, it possessed a distinctive style of performance.
It was a role that explained what the former [Okina] said by reinterpreting and applying it to a certain fact.
Compared to Okina, it was more brisk, comical, had a down-to-earth quality in its approach, and generally tended toward boisterousness.

The Kurojō called Shōjikkiri that appeared in the Shinshu Niigata Snow Festival had furthermore given rise to a role called *modoki* and a role type referred to as *saihō*.
This was likely a role name signifying its lineage to the Sa no Otoko; however, the fact that atop the comic imitation (*modoki*), they further layered *saihō* roles suggested that the layering of comic imitations might know no bounds.
After all, in ancient performing arts, there had been a custom in which each role was accompanied by one comic imitation role.

Just recently, on Kannon’s sacred festival day during the Lunar New Year, I observed the Dengaku festival at Nishiurayama in Enshū Okuyamamura (now Mizukubo Town).
First, among the Dengaku performances I observed in recent years—though fragmented—I came to realize that their performance genres preserve, with near-perfect fidelity, the ancient style of Dengaku.

19. Comic Imitation Sarugaku Kyōgen

What made Nishiurayama Dengaku particularly rich in implication was its greater abundance of comic imitations compared to Dengaku, Flower Festivals, Kagura, and other regional performances. In other regions, they had even forgotten the name *modoki* and performed several overlapping roles, but here in this place, while such things certainly existed, beyond that, for the important ones, what was called *modoki no te* (imitation techniques) were repeated in each performance. And furthermore, what should be noted was the presence of what was called *te* (technique). It could be discerned that [the technique] primarily consisted of dance style—or to put it more appropriately, a stomping manner—.

Generally, once the serious first act concluded, the costumes and props emerged in a somewhat disheveled state, repeated the previous dance at an extremely brisk pace, softened the dance in what might be called a down-to-earth style, altered their comic antics, and of course wrapped up swiftly before withdrawing.

Considering this, it seemed reasonable to view the comic imitation roles (*modoki*) as generally fulfilling interpreter-like role assignments.
Was it not that from among these [roles], those who differentiated to provide vernacular translations of the libretto came to repurpose Sarugaku’s traditional terminology?
Considering this, there had indeed been reason for calling the Sanbasō—which served as Okina’s comic imitation, primarily focused on proclamation—Sarugaku.

In Sarugaku-Noh—which specialized in this form of Sarugaku—they separated the roles into supporting actors and clearly designated them as Kyōgen, also referring to them as ‘okashi.’
This did not signify a role meant to amuse; rather, like the comic imitation (*modoki*), it was considered to have been a transgression.
Herein lay the reason why Sarugaku branched into two forms: “Kotoba” (words) and “Nō” (performance).
Noh developed from its position as a supporting role, while Kyōgen could be viewed as a name arising from aspects of proclamation and explanation.

When viewed in this way, it becomes clear that Sanbasō—performed by kyōgen actors—is in fact the Okina’s *modoki* role.
And thus, in Sarugaku Noh, dance came to take precedence while proclamation gradually became neglected—a trend we can discern.

If I were to state it this way, Okina may indeed appear to be a sacred role and may seem like an original duty, but I find an issue there.
Fundamentally, regarding the two types of old man masks—the white-style and the black-style—if I were to state my view, I argue that the black-style is older, while the white-style represents a purification that emerged in an era when sacred perceptions became heightened.

From the perspective of roles, Sanbasō emerged as “Okina’s comic imitation,” but when viewed through the masks, the relationship became inverted. The white-style Okina too had originally appeared wearing Kurojō masks, but became so sanctified that it now required representation with a mask in the Saisōrō style. Thus it appears the black masks remained with the comic imitation roles.

This black mask, I believe, serves as a marker of mountain people. For instance, the faces of the kotohogi procession wearing high court caps at the Tōka festival seem to have been properly featureless—that is, resembling Anma and Soriko. As the white-style Okina came to resemble Saisōrō, the mountain people masks gradually transformed into what might be called Okina masks differing only in their blackened state. While ancient mountain peoples’ faces cannot be known today, even if uniformly black in hue, they would not have possessed the intricate carvings depicting facial muscles seen in black-style Okina masks.

However, as I have previously mentioned, it remains a fact that in our country, the term "black" appears connected to groups preserving unusual forms of dance.
Since ancient times with Kuromayama Dance onward—through Kurokawa Noh, Kurokura Dengaku, Kurohira Sanbasō—all have been mountain-dwelling performing arts villages.
Whether this "black" signifies literal facial pigmentation or serves as terminology distinguishing orthodox from miscellaneous performing arts remains difficult to assert definitively at present; nevertheless, I believe we must consider its profound connection to Yamabito Mai.