Pathway to Japanese Literature

I. Classical Life

The life of “civilization” from mid-Meiji had retreated and settled into its current state—there lay a reason for this.
Just as the charm of classics simplifies our thoughts and refreshes them with clarity, so too were our lives often purified through what might be called futile—styles untethered to utilitarian aims—by their obscure origins’ “tamekitarī” (inherited purpose).
Many of these made family life elegant and imparted a supple strength.
One needed only consider the tranquil feeling after setting up the New Year pine decorations.
When displaying the Rising Sun flag at one’s eaves, the depth of joy in one’s heart—or perhaps a sense of mockery—differed in degree.
For us, the people of a so-called “heterodox” nation, to feel our hearts quicken at the evening lights of Christmas—with which we had no connection—was nothing more than the temptation of an antiquated way of life.

Both the Christmas tree and Santa Claus were things early Christians incorporated when they found themselves unable to discard the elegant refinement inherent in the heterodox peoples' Classical Life.
The mindset valuing customs in domestic and communal life had come to lean markedly toward aesthetics in modern times.
What manner of spring was being welcomed in that new household—the husband a company man from Ōsumi’s fishing villages and his wife once a schoolgirl from Iwaki’s mountain hinterlands?
Without doubt they performed New Year rites blending both spouses’ faint memories upon a foundation of Tokyo’s authority.
In such lonesome early spring days—it was tranquility and humble delight that made their home’s air feel thoroughly antiquated.

The customs of Classical Life were often incompatible with new communal life.
Even after repeated consultations aiming at improvement, the tendency to revert to inconvenient old styles arose not from a modern inclination to seek “beauty” within them, but rather from recognizing something older—a certain “goodness,” at least in communal life where vestiges of old culture persisted.
The emergence of this confidence in “goodness” became increasingly evident the more one traced it back—it was rooted in faith in the divine.

Several years ago, when adherents of Tō—lamenting the decline of traditions practiced by their fellow sect members—brandished the testament “Cast aside miscellaneous practices and devotions!” and attempted to abolish kadomatsu pine decorations and shimenawa ropes, a commotion arose.
Even those who attacked did not attempt to thoroughly demonstrate how discontinuing “New Year decorations” constituted evidence of diluted sentiment as nationals.
It seems they were at a stage where they could only vaguely state that it felt immoral.
Such instances constitute evidence that Shinto theologians neglected to examine Ancient Shinto—or “pre-Shinto” studies—which they ought to have considered more thoroughly.
This was because they had become complacent with Onmyō Shinto, Ryōbu Shinto, Confucian Shinto, Hygienic Shinto, Common Sense Shinto, and the like, failing to freely pursue ancient research.

What compelled ancient researchers to focus their thoughts was precisely why customs of obscure origin—repeatedly passed down by our ancestors—had at times come to possess such ethical substance. This went without saying. It lay in the reliance of those who served the gods and the mindset of viewing errors as sins. If we did not recognize this as arising from faith, what else could we say?

There were various Shinto theories among Shinto theologians. To state my thoughts bluntly, the examples of terms referred to as Shinto in historical documents largely fell into two categories.

The simple meaning lay in recognizing the existence of divine will within each form of ancient life.
However, it ultimately seemed to settle on being the unifying principle that governed those ancient ways of life.
The scholarship that took this as its object was “National Studies,” which had been assailing our traditions.
Therefore, the essence of Shinto lay in being the original religion of Japan and the model for ancient life, while National Studies served as theology for Shinto—in other words, it undertook a subdivision of ancient life research.

The significance of Shinto has undergone major changes since entering the Meiji era.
There has been a tendency among [Shinto theologians] to deliberately augment ethical substance in order to transcend constitutionally guaranteed freedom of religion.
Since its starting point was religion, its process was religion—and even now it has not entirely shed its religious character—I think it acceptable to view Shinto as ancient life’s unifying principle grounded in religious foundations: its modes of faith having prescribed morality, art, and life in its broadest sense for later generations through customs.

Japan’s ancient life had hitherto been treated with an excessively lax research attitude.
The tradition of National Studies, which had worked vigorously until the Edo period, lost its momentum upon entering the Meiji era.
As a result, only research from outside flourished.
Those who sought to make their very beings palpitate with the inner vitality of ancient people and strive to recreate it vanished.
The words preserved in several documents were inorganically compared with the vocabularies of ancient nations and remote ethnic groups.
This was our failure that had ossified the traditional enterprise.

We began by starting from ancient documents. As their exegesis, we sought to utilize—as much as possible—the “Classical Life” that had endured into later periods or still faintly lingered in the present. At times, we aimed to discern the significance of customs from ethnic groups seemingly bound to us by blood relations or prolonged neighborly coexistence, comparing them with contemporary life. On rare occasions, under the credible hypothesis that “equal circumstances beget equal lifestyles and traditions,” we contemplated drawing insights from sentiments steeped in the lives and customs of distant nations.

Centered around March’s Doll Festival, May’s Boys’ Festival, July’s Star Festival, the Obon Festival, Hassaku… customs that bring us tranquility are repeated year after year. Even among what Edo-period scholars readily deemed foreign customs, many contained indigenous seeds intermingled within. I, having now spoken at length about kadomatsu, considered the earliest vestiges of customs spanning from New Year’s Eve to New Year’s Day and established a foundation for ancient research.

II. Old Year’s Dreams · New Year’s Dreams

From the lives of our ancestors—who could always hear tidings of that lonely land beyond the sea—my discourse on ancient research would begin its telling.

This discourse began from ancient times when people who understood the art of day-counting—the etymological root of “calendar”—considered the movement of days and months, the turning points of seasons, and established all policies of production.
Even as calendar systems were implemented, due to lingering impressions from prior times, the art of day-counting continued to be practiced in opposition to the new calendar. The descendants of those who once governed the people through day-counting became rulers of various provinces, and the old traditions came to be inherited by one professional group under their command as part of their duties.

By the time the Yamato state became consciously recognized, it had already advanced to this state.
The calendar systems used by those thought to have migrated latest—the Izushi people (Southern Han Chinese)—were likely the most advanced.
Just as the teachings of Daoism and Buddhism were unofficially introduced long before the dates specified in records, calendar systems too may be seen as having transcended what was documented in historical writings.
It is thought that [calendar systems] arrived alongside the villages of early itinerant settlers from an era when figures like Ame no Hiboko and Tsunuga no Arashi were recognized not as naturalized immigrant groups but as invaders.
Therefore, it stands to reason that the official introduction of the new calendar system occurred much later.
It was likely only that it had become generally accepted.
In such villages, they employed various calendar systems and gradually began blending them as our discussion spans this transitional era.
Consequently, even though records indicate entry into the new calendar era, from the perspective of ancient research, it must conversely be viewed as an era of mixed old and new calendars in many cases.

Although it cannot be precisely calculated, we must consider the numerous facts indicating that the ancestors' establishment of Japanese civilization occurred far earlier in antiquity than what today’s skeptical highbrow critics imagine.
This discussion of ancient research will ultimately amount to establishing little more than a rough estimate.
The true path that scholarship targeting eras with unreliable records must take is to continue advancing while remaining neither too close nor too distant from textual criticism and inference.

Not only in matters of the calendar—the more those who study antiquity relied on records from later eras (having passed a certain number of years) that were heavily mixed with rationalist perspectives, the more perilous it became.
I intended to ground my discussion in a general approximation set within what we call ancient times.
I asked readers to recognize that there were already people who clearly possessed national consciousness alongside those not yet settled even into village life.
If pressed to answer, I would say our focus centered on the period before the Asuka capital. However, there were times when—of course in Asuka itself, and even in the era of the Fujiwara capital—we found similar lifestyles, and looking further ahead to the Nara period as well, we discerned traces of ancient life.
In my accustomed manner of speaking—that is, through the lives of those before the Manyō People and the Manyō People themselves—I proceeded to discuss while sifting through ancient seeds.

The current reality where towns and villages bordering each other variously employed three types of calendars—the lunar calendar, solar calendar, and one-month delayed system—was in fact something of longstanding origin. As ancient villages with differing calendar systems had gradually unified over time, the customs associated with their respective calendars became entangled with one another, eventually forming extremely complex annual folk events.

For instance, when examining the relationships between Ōmisoka (New Year’s Eve) and Ganjitsu (New Year’s Day), Jūyokka Toshikoshi (14th Day New Year’s Eve) and Koshōgatsu (First Full Moon Festival), or Setsubun and Risshun (Spring Commencement), it was indeed a fact that the originally distinct meanings of these respective days had come to be considered increasingly interconnected.

I attempted to recount the indistinct distinction between New Year’s Day and Spring Commencement on the calendar in ancient times.

III. The Impurity of Night Beds

After the earthquake, even the calls of "Treasures! Treasures!" and offers of "Let us perform exorcisms!" grew rare, leaving both spring and Setsubun increasingly desolate.
When even Tokyo—the city that once revered "Classical Life"—had been reduced to this state, one could not help but seek meaning in the present while yearning for nostalgic comforts.

Due to its association with first dreams, even the astute author of *Kiyū Shōran* committed a glaring error by claiming that first dreams were those seen on Setsubun night.
Originally, it appears they called the dream emerging after the treasure ship had fulfilled its purpose the "first dream."
Yet through the disarray of calendar systems, first dreams and treasure ships became wholly divorced—with the ships themselves becoming entangled in notions of delivering auspicious first dreams.

It was precisely because maintaining some distance between first dreams and Treasure Ships became necessary that customs like Edo's second-day first dream emerged.
A distinction had to be drawn between New Year's Eve dreams and New Year's dreams.
Once the Treasure Ship meant for New Year's Eve dreams became profoundly linked with first dreams, despite this implicit understanding creating a boundary between them, even Treasure Ships came to be employed on the second night as fixtures of first dreams.
There remains no doubt that first dreams excluded those visions witnessed before awakening on New Year's morning.

Now, as for the treasure ship, the principle was to use it either on Setsubun night or New Year’s Eve.
In the imperial court and noble households, the practice of distributing papers printed with ship images not only to those who resided within the household but also to visiting retainers had existed as early as the Muromachi period.
The paper spread beneath the bed and slept upon would be gathered the next morning and either floated away or buried.
Therefore, it becomes clear that this practice originated from the belief that the ship carried away nightmares.
All extant old illustrations of treasure ships that can be seen today are simpler the older they are, and do not depict elements such as the Seven Lucky Gods.
However, even those with overly simplistic forms conversely risk being dismissed as pseudo-antique forgeries and thus cannot be trusted, but according to Dr. Ishibashi Gaba’s research, those depicting crude ships with a few rice stalks drawn inside are considered the oldest examples.
Beside the illustration, *Kagami no Fune* is written in Manyō-style script.

Next came an illustration of a small boat loaded solely with rice bales. Up to this point, the authenticity remained questionable. However, in later iterations, the sail bore the character for *baku*, with talismanic markings inscribed outside the ship. This design became stylized into an opposing hooks crest, while the *baku* character itself transformed into an auspicious symbol or crest pattern. From there, artisans gradually began loading various Seven Treasures, with newer versions incorporating depictions of the Seven Lucky Gods. These markings undeniably originated from transformed ritual talismans, demonstrating the considerable time that had passed before reaching this particular design stage. The *baku*—an entity devouring ominous dreams—must have been regarded as a talisman for either “Dream-Altering” or “Dream-Purging.” Even in *The Life of an Amorous Man*, the “Dream-Altering *Baku* Talisman” and the Treasure Ship appeared as distinct entities. Ultimately, this vessel served to purge and cast away the previous year’s nightmares on New Year’s Eve or Setsubun night—what had been called “Setsubun Ritual-Ships” during the Muromachi period eventually evolved into Treasure Ships. Once fully loaded, people would peacefully behold their New Year’s Day or Spring Commencement morning dreams.

In this manner—from contexts separated by barely a sheet of paper—emerged also the concept of an object meant to protect the first dream.
Thus came about the circumstance where ships meant to be expelled were instead welcomed as treasure-bearing vessels.
Yet when tracing back the Treasure Ship’s origins, they proved fundamentally rooted in baku talismans.
If one pursued their primordial form further still, their purpose likely extended beyond mere dream exorcism.
They existed to entrust unto an object—whether tangible or intangible—the accumulated fearsome things, abominable things, and defilements that had gathered in resting places regarded as sacred spirit dwellings, thereby creating tranquil abodes for pure-hearted spirits.
(The practice of viewing sleeping quarters and dwelling places as extensions of personal identity—and the belief in their sacredness—persisted from antiquity through the early modern period.)

A part of this custom’s origin undoubtedly lies in the upper echelons.
The act of distributing ship images from above to below is none other than the Great Purification itself.
The item called "ritual substitutes" was employed to entrust all defiled portions.
Having had the courtiers stroke their bodies with this, then gathering them up and floating them away on water represented the form of the Great Purification rite during its period of decline.
The illustration of this ship is none other than an offshoot of the Great Purification rite, as evidenced by the day on which it is performed.
Moreover, it also contains a meaning resembling the Ōtono-sai ritual.
It was a kind of duty imposed on those who lived in and frequented the household.
Rather than ensuring their safety and well-being, its primary purpose was to prevent calamities from befalling the master’s person and household due to those people’s religious sins—chiefly ritual impurity (kegare).
This custom appears to have passed into the hands of yin-yang masters as well, with ritual substitutes developing varieties beyond those for purification rites—items imbued with such meaning came to be distributed even among commoners, until finally a concept resembling talismans seems to have taken shape.
Even among shrines, a practice developed of distributing talismans meant for “changing dreams” to visitors on New Year’s Eve and Setsubun.
However, the widespread dissemination of such customs among the populace largely resulted from their utilization for the livelihood of itinerant ritualists and others subordinate to yin-yang masters.

However, there was a reason this came to be embraced among the populace.
Because the newly arrived style fit perfectly into pre-existing similar forms.
The cryptic circular poem inscribed on treasure ships—“nagaki yo no tō no nemuri no miname same...”—constituted a form of incantation.
While its imperfect execution held symbolic efficacy, the upper verse of the deciphered portion might seem to speak of humanity’s deluded slumber through the long night, but it appeared to have actually been a song admonishing against deep sleep.
In the scattered dwellings along coasts and wild mountains, the ancient lifestyle that abhorred deep sleep still persisted among islanders, mountain folk, and others.
In evening greetings, there were quite a few regions where phrases like “sleep alertly” were exchanged instead of “rest well.”
When this idea became rationalized, the custom of “flowing away sleep” as a means to admonish peasants against dozing off during their nighttime tasks came to be widely practiced.
In Professor Yanagita Kunio’s interpretation, even the Nebuta Festival of Oshū was regarded as an exorcism rite to dispel the sleep demons that plagued nighttime labor.
Because the need to warn against deep sleep had vanished, they came to interpret things in this way, meaninglessly upholding the admonitions from their ancient ancestors.
This “sleep purification” custom too was thought to have originally taken the form of loading impurities onto ships.

IV. The Flea’s Pure Land

And yet, there still remained in sleeping quarters things that required purification and casting into seas or rivers.
These were bedbug-like pests, with fleas serving as their representative example.
In the same Oshu Sendai vicinity grew a grass called "Flea Ship."
I heard from Mr. Tanigawa Iwao that tradition held how spreading its leaves beneath one’s bedding on Setsubun night (?) would cause fleas to ride upon them and depart.
Now, where were those bedbugs carried off to after boarding this “Flea Ship”?
On Okinawa Island—seemingly unrelated—when early summer arrived, fleas were said to come from nirai kanai aboard barley-stalk boats poled with barley stalks; they expelled the pests by urging, “Return to nirai kanai.”
This explanation of nirai kanai drew nearer to Tokoyo no Kuni as envisioned by our ancestors.

Nirai kanai refers to an ideal land beyond the sea, considered a divine realm.
It is pronounced in various ways such as Girekōchi and Jiraikanai.
It is believed that the gods cross the sea from here and come to human villages.
The Iro Setsuden records such cases as examples of humans who died and journeyed to nirai kanai to become kami.
When one travels south to the Sakishima Islands, this Pure Land is called Maya no Kuni.
Among the Sakishima Islands, Ishigaki Island of Yaeyama—formed from gathered peasants in the southern islands—is particularly convenient to cite in this context.

In Miyara Village, there existed a term for an underground world connected through a coastal rock cavern (also called niiru soko), which shared etymological roots with nirai.
From this cavern emerged Niirubito (nirai people) or two oni-like giants called Akamata and Kuromata, who conducted coming-of-age ceremonies every rooster year.
The young men performed ascetic practices exactly as commanded by the gods, driven by their belief.
Moreover, they appeared before the gathered villagers and danced themselves.
They said storms blew because they came from niiru.
Speaking of which, Scholar Iha Fuyū mentioned that in Okinawa Island too, people prayed for wind calm by saying, “Go to nirai kanai.”
Nirai kanai had been transformed into a Pure Land in Okinawa Island, but in the Sakishima Islands, while still considered a divine realm, it remained intertwined with a greater sense of awe and dread.
Throughout, it was considered both a divine realm that brought happiness and the very source of calamity.
What was further idealized in Sakishima was the land called Maya no Kuni, spoken of between villages that believed in niiru and villages that had previously lived under differing circumstances on separate islands.
At each spring’s beginning, the two deities Maya-no-Kami and Tomo-maya-no-Kami crossed over by ship from the land of bliss. Hiding their faces under palm-leaf hats, wearing straw raincoats, and leaning on staffs, they visited each household to convey words concerning that year’s agricultural matters and other phrases meant to uplift the family’s spirits.
In other words, they recited auspicious phrases.
The Niirubito too came even in years without coming-of-age ceremonies and, like Maya-no-Kami, went around bestowing auspicious phrases upon households.

V. The Night the Ancestors Come

In villages where such gods did not come, the ancestral spirits serving as household deities arrived under the pure white moonlight of Obon, leading a great retinue to enter each home.
This consisted primarily of what was called the grandfather as representative of the paternal ancestors and the grandmother transmitted as representative of the maternal ancestors.
The grandfather figure gave various admonitions to family members and reprimanded past mistakes and oversights.
Since everyone’s faces were covered in disguise, they would say things that caused considerable embarrassment to households with poor reputations.
In that household, they prepared a feast there with utmost care.
The retainers played musical instruments and performed various arts.

This event was called "Angamaa." Though its etymology remained unknown, it was still considered to be the name of an otherworldly realm. One night, I walked alongside this procession and pondered while being steamed by the sweltering crowd. Did not the renowned Chiba Laughter ritual, Kyoto Gojō Tenjin Shrine's moxa pilgrimage insults, Kawachi Nozaki Pilgrimage's land-water disputes, and various regional Akutai Festivals all trace their essential origins to such foundations? As I pondered this, the grandfather figure stepped resolutely forward and satirized—with a tone so artful it provoked roaring laughter—the newly enforced austerity policy adopted that year as district doctrine. When the village's shared ancestors emerged to censure the methods of the legitimate village lord among his descendants, it became clear why even the lord found himself at a loss for how to respond. This interaction—still containing other elements—likely gave rise to exchanges of akutai (ritualized censure).

The ritual that demonstrates the extent of transition among these three types of people and deities was uniquely present on Ishigaki Island. Both these gods and people were none other than selected youths from the village who emerged in disguise under strict secrecy. The ancestral gods of Sakishima maintained an extremely human-like state when viewed from Okinawa Island. The name “Niiru people” arose from recognizing abundant human elements within these deities. Yet this deity was so feared that among the islanders, there were those who regarded Niiru as the general of the abyss. They were beings from the underground world of the dead, and considering them as two entities likely carried the same significance as the opposition between the grandfather figure and the grandmother. Therefore, whether they thought that after crossing to the land of death they had taken on such forms, or whether they had originally been descendants of such beings remained unclear, but this aided in explaining the etymologically related term *nirai kanai*.

The term *kanai* in relation to *nirai* was formed as an antithetical pair; once *nirai* is understood, the meaning largely resolves itself. Nirai kanai had originally been an island beyond the sea where the spirits of village people dwelled after death. Some held that one could reach it through passages beneath the coastal bedrock. On this "Island of Death" resided fearsome yet benevolent beings who maintained goodwill toward their village's way of life. As these conceptions underwent refinement through time, people came to envision that entities would cross over from such islands at appointed times each year to impart blessings and teachings upon villages and households. Yet this memory persisted fragmentarily long after solidifying into such form, preserving glimpses of that blissful realm's primordial visage.

In the current life of the Ryukyu Islands—especially in their inner aspects—one can still see the lifestyle of the Man’yō people preserved unchanged. Moreover, vestiges from even before the Man’yō era can be glimpsed, and they are by no means scarce. In our research on ancient life, we frequently encountered instances where it laid matters bare rather than merely suggesting them. I am not here advancing the theory of Japanese-Ryukyuan common ancestry. However, I do not wish my approach to be conflated with attitudes that posit common ancestry among East Asian peoples. As this argument accumulates corroborative instances through repetition, my assertions will likely gain increasing substantiation.

VI. Land of Roots / Land of the Depths

The foundational concept underlying purification rites was likely not merely about casting impurities into the open sea, but also involved envisioning a land beyond the ocean—a realm that would receive this world's defilements. The fact that the method of floating impurities away on boats belongs to the lineage of purification indicates they conceived of a destination land for these offerings. "If one were to swallow impurities thusly, Ibuki Do Nushi—the deity enshrined at the Blowing Gate—would blow them away to the Land of Roots and Land of Depths." The June Ōharae prayer—continuing with "When thus blown away, Haya-sasurahime dwelling in those lands shall wander forth and carry them into oblivion"—cannot be definitively declared representative of ancient people's thoughts in this land. Moreover, one must exercise caution considering how natural alterations during prolonged oral transmission of norito prayers, combined with deliberate revisions suited to an age of civilization, might have shaped this text. Yet even after Japanese religion developed something resembling a theological system, its continued association of the Land of Roots with the sea—positing it as entering through flatlands or mountain fringes rather than being simply subterranean—could be said to preserve a more authentic form compared to myths omitting maritime connections altogether.

In the entry for Uga District, Izumo Province, in the *Izumo Fudoki*:

That is, on the beach of the North Sea there was a reef (meaning a large boulder).
It was called Natsuki no Iso.
It stood approximately one jō (about 3 meters) in height.
On top grew a pine tree.
Up to the reef, villagers would come and go morning and evening as if it were an ordinary path; the tree branches too appeared as if pulled by human hands—yet to the west of the reef lay a cave entrance, each of its height and width measuring approximately six shaku (~1.8 meters).
Inside the cave was a hole.
People could not enter it.
Its depth remained unknown.
Those who reached the vicinity of this cave in dreams would inevitably perish.
Therefore, common people had since ancient times up to the present day referred to it as Yomi no Saka (Slope of Yomi) and Yomi no Ana (Cave of Yomi).

Because it was said that even visiting there in a dream would bring death, those of sound mind did not circle to the west of the boulder.
(While our predecessors' theory associating places like Hōki's Yomishima and Daikonshima with Yomi no Kuni [Land of Night] and Ne no Kuni [Land of Roots] seems overly localized in its geographical proximity, their perception of islands as lands of death remains provisionally difficult to discard.)
When the concept of a path to a distant island of death across the sea—one passing through the seabed to reach beyond—underwent reversal, it transformed into the notion of a country existing beneath the ocean floor.
The account in the Izumo Fudoki may also belong to such an era's mode of thought.
The Great Purification Prayer too, if one emphasizes the term "Land of the Depths," can be interpreted as [impurities] being blown deep into the sea.
Yet it could equally be taken as being blown toward the distant Island of Death, allowing for multiple readings.
In any event, it seems permissible to consider that both Izumo people and Yamato people conceived of the sea and the spirit world as interconnected.)

VII. The Land of Bliss Ascending to Heaven by Itself

The islands south of Amami Ōshima under Kagoshima Prefecture shared an unbroken lineage with Ryukyu in every aspect; yet they conceived an ideal land called Naruko and Tekoto that included the Iheya Islands lying directly west of Ryukyu's northern tip.
Iheya appeared to have maintained concepts of Maya no Kuni from the south, and awareness of Okinawa Island’s Nirai Kanai could be evidenced through sacred texts chanted by priestesses.
Furthermore, in Okinawa Island’s religious practice, they even invoked Obotsukagura—a place considered superior to Nirai Kanai.
On Okinawa Island, what was called "heaven" seemed referred to as amamiya—a term whose components amami and shineri (discernible from divine names like Amamikyo and Shinerikyo) likely originated from names for lands of bliss. The emergence of Obotsukagura as a celestial divine realm within Ryukyuan belief probably occurred when people began desiring an omnipotent deity to the fullest extent conceivable in their era.
Even when decomposing our current religious impressions, those belonging to the underworld were often treated as a single entity.
This was not merely a dwelling place for gods.
It also possessed the nature of a demonic world.
Gods, demons, and spirits of the dead shared no small number of common traits.
Their most notable characteristic lay in belonging entirely to the nocturnal world.
This derived from their alternation with the manifest world at cockcrow.
The phenomenon of being startled by the first cockcrow and failing to accomplish purposes was not limited to folktales involving demons and spirits.
Historical accounts showed even gods frequently met failure due to cockcrow marking temporal boundaries.
For noble deities too, festivals’ central rituals had to conclude before midnight cockcrow.
Since our country’s gods retained unexpectedly ancient attributes even in their solar aspects, dawn became imperative for conducting ritual send-offs—even for the supreme sun deity long worshipped as such.
Examining daytime songs from both the Kokinshū’s Great Poetry Bureau section and Kagura liturgy made festival dawn sentiments flow into our hearts.
The further back one traced history, the more fearsome elements dominated divine conceptions while supreme deities faded into obscurity.
Regarding fierce animals—creatures beyond local spirits’ control—as gods represented an advanced stage; yet historical records revealed vestiges of earlier forms beneath this practice.
The impression from such antiquity—compelling doubts about whether it belonged to Japan’s soil or ancestral homelands—now faintly revealed itself through modern antiquity studies. This evoked not shame toward ancestors who lived thusly but unbearable nostalgia.
In eras when our ancestors flattered and served myriad spirits, we must now discuss deities that gradually gained influence over their lives—those reaching supreme status—and their divine realms.

The reason we drew upon Ryukyuan examples at such tedious length was to allow this narrative to proceed smoothly.
One need only consider ancestors who remained constantly aware that living and non-living things surrounded human dwellings without even a hint of goodwill.
The ancient provincial gazetteers recorded many stories demonstrating how such a way of life—one battling nature as living entities—persisted long into later ages.
The ancestors documented in records who reveal our most distant “antiquity” are thought to have been villagers who avoided distancing themselves from coasts.
As for those who established villages in mountainous regions—they had not yet appeared in this antiquity we now describe.
Following recorded chronology would mean recounting narratives from before Emperor Jimmu’s era.

VIII. The Visitation of the Sacred Visitors

Among the terms bequeathed by our ancestors that still retain their resonance within our hearts is “Sacred Visitors.”
After taking the form of “marōdo,” it is thought to have lost its ancient resonance.
The original significance of the Sacred Visitors seems to have been that they were gods.
They were gods who came at appointed times.
It concerns the gods whom villagers believed would come specifically to their village from the vast sky and from beyond the sea, bringing wealth, longevity, and several other forms of happiness.
These gods did not remain confined to religious fantasy.
In reality, ancient villagers heard the knocking at house doors when these Sacred Visitors came.
The verb *otozuru*—found in usage examples meaning “to make a sound”—came to acquire the sense of “visiting” because its original meaning of “producing sound” became narrowly associated with door noises. I believe this term derives from the rat-a-tat knocking that signaled a god’s arrival.
When speaking of Sacred Visitors, it has come to evoke the notion of visitation, resulting in semantic differentiation.
This can be inferred from folk traditions that still hold deep-rooted beliefs and associations regarding door-knocking.
Even within courtly life, the custom persisted into later ages wherein gods would descend to visit the gates and purify the halls where His Majesty conducted his daily affairs.
The Heian-period Ōtono-sai festival was precisely this.

At dawn, two officials from the Nakatomi and Inbe clans would visit the Onmyō Gate with their retinue and, accompanied by imperial shrine maidens, make rounds through the palace halls.
Such customs were indeed commonly practiced among the general populace; however, having become so routine that they lacked stimulating elements and due to the original intent becoming difficult to trace, they came to be rarely transmitted, and even when transmitted, people could scarcely recognize them as remnants of those traditions.
As for folk practices older than these, they exhibit the Eastern style discernible from the Manyōshū’s Azuma-uta and the Hitachi Fudoki.
On the night of the Niiname Festival, to welcome into each home the god who protected the crops, family members would all go out, leaving only one person—either a virgin or the housewife of each household—to tend to the god.
This god was not originally a deity of agricultural fields but rather appears to have been one who visited villages at spring’s beginning to perform auspicious predictions for the coming year.

These gods who became Sacred Visitors were carried over from the era when our ancestors migrated along the coast; later, they came to be thought of as descending from the heavens, and further transformed into beings believed to arrive from certain regions on earth as well.
In their ancient form, they would cross over from the land beyond the sea every early spring, bestow heart-stirring prophecies for the entire year upon each household in the village, and then depart.
As the attributes of these Sacred Visitors gradually elevated, they came to give rise to the supreme deity of the heavens, and consequently, I believe people came to conceive of the land of the Sacred Visitors as Takamagahara.
Moreover, as the conceptual scope of Sacred Visitors branched out—no longer limited to those arriving from the sea or Takamagahara, but now encompassing gods belonging to the earthly realm—the numbers of visiting Sacred Visitors multiplied, and their frequency appears to have increased.
My discussion now had to elucidate the relationship between Sacred Visitors and 'Tokoyo no Kuni'.

IX. 'Tokoyo no Kuni'

Tokoyo no Kuni, in common usage within historical records, was a land of radiant wealth and longevity.
It appears that since even before the Nara period, these concepts had lost their religious substance and gradually came to be regarded as actual nations within our country, giving rise to a custom of speculating about and taking pride in them.
The Hitachi Fudoki's designation of their own land as Tokoyo no Kuni stands as one such example.
When examining the "Song of the Laborers at Fujiwara Palace"—attributed to Hitomaro—which declares "Our land would become Tokoyo," we see this stems from people of the Fujiwara capital era already conceiving of Tokoyo as an actual nation.
From these examples emerges the natural conclusion that seeking Tokoyo no Kuni beyond the seas arose organically from ancient thought.
The Eternal Land that Tajimamori—an ancestor of the Izushi people—reportedly visited to gather the "Time-Perfumed Fruit" can largely be understood as a revival of memories held by those whose ancestral homelands lay in southern China.
Even in matters considered historical facts, we detect traces of folktale.
It is said that when he returned after being dispatched by Emperor Suinin's command, he found the sovereign—who should have joyfully awaited him—had already passed away.
While showing no logical inconsistencies, this folktale demonstrates its inclusion of universal archetypes through its depiction of differing temporal standards between Tokoyo no Kuni's otherworldly realm and our own land.
The place Urashimako journeyed to was likewise Tokoyo no Kuni.
In this tale where "having left home for three years, he found neither fence nor house remaining" (Manyoshu Book 9), the disparity in time's measure between that land and ours proved so profound as to induce complete disorientation.
The Urashima narrative appears to have coalesced even earlier during the Asuka capital period, yet already unified Watatsumi's palace with Tokoyo no Kuni.
The erasure of distinction between seafloor and distant shores aligns with my prior discussions.

It was from the time of the Fujiwara capital that Tokoyo no Kuni came to be idealized. The immortal mountains fantasized by Taoist believers were a paradise of immortality and eternal flourishing. Moreover, in the popular Taoism brought over from China by naturalized immigrants, there were many instances that regarded the immortal realms as ideal lands of romance. In our country's Tokoyo—where romance too found its place—there existed not only Urashima but also the myth of Howori no Mikoto. This undoubtedly existed as a country within the sea. The sole point that differed from Urashima was that the concept of time showed no discrepancy between the two lands. This land beneath the sea was referred to as the realm of Watatsumi. In this myth too, elements of the Eternal Land—wealth and romance—had sufficiently permeated. In the aspect where wealth abounded, the longing of ancient people faintly revealed itself. It was said that while residing in a palace layered with sea lion skin tatami and indulging in every pleasure, he let out a great sigh—to which the Manyoshu poets would likely have said, just as with Urashima, "Dullard!" They would have envied "this lord" while sneering. When Howori no Mikoto was about to return, as the god Watatsumi handed him the fishhook, he instructed him with an incantation that went: "This hook—the Folly Hook, Clamor Hook, Poverty Hook, Futility Hook." The one who received this hook would invoke a curse to fish up these misfortunes. Moreover, the act of bestowing a wish-fulfilling jewel that freely caused water to ebb and flow stemmed from agrarian experience and constituted the foremost requirement for prosperity. A land where dwelled a god capable of bestowing poverty was, by its very nature, a wish-fulfilling realm of prosperity.

Despite the term *tokoyo* always carrying favorable connotations, there existed a single differing example in the *Chronicle of Empress Kōgyoku*. It was recorded that the Tokoyo god at the heart of the incident—wherein Hata no Kawakatsu, whom people praised as “a god among gods,” punished it—took the form of a green insect approximately four sun long (about twelve centimeters) with black spots. They took specimens inhabiting tachibana trees and Japanese pepper vines and enshrined them. Chanting “New riches have arrived,” they brought this Tokoyo god into each household, placed it upon a purified seat, then sang and danced. The shamans’ oracle declared: “Should one enshrine the Tokoyo god, paupers shall gain wealth and elders regain youth.” Though these ought to be deemed superstitious practices, their foundational concept remained unaltered. This clearly revealed the essence of Tokoyo and its originating deities.

X. The Significance of Tokoyo

What kind of usage examples and history does the term *Tokoyo* possess?
*Toko* signifies absolute, permanence, or immutability.
The significance of *yo* underwent multiple transformations, and because it came to encompass all those processes in their entirety, the essence of *tokoyo* consequently became exceedingly complex.
The ancient significance of the word *yo* was that which excluded rice or grains.
Later, it came to represent the ripening of rice.
Just as it is more accurate to view the term *toshi* as having originated from the meaning of rice grains and come to represent "year," so too can this synonymous term *yo* be seen as having differentiated into meanings such as "age" and "era."
Furthermore, after the *Manyoshu* period, there are instances where [the term] came to carry meanings such as “sexual desire” or “sexual relations.”
This may belong to a different etymological lineage, but since it appears connected to conceptions of Tokoyo as a Pure Land encompassing love and sexual desire, I shall note it here.

Examples abound where *Tokoyo* was used to mean long life.
The term *Tokoyo* in antiquity directly denoted long-lived individuals.
Yet to claim it derived from a “land of longevity” inverts the true derivation.
Within *tokoyo*’s meaning persists an earlier form.
When Manyoshu poets extolled an ageless woman’s beauty with “dwells in *Tokoyo no Kuni*,” their understanding embraced not just longevity’s realm but also the implication that “she abided in love’s domain.”

The primary meaning of *Tokoyo* was not forgotten even long afterward. When Ōtomo no Sakanoe no Iratsume of Nara’s golden age admonished a daughter lamenting their parting with the words “Yet even to Eternal Night shall I not go,” this could indeed be interpreted as referring to the land beyond the sea—but in doing so, it also unmistakably revealed the term’s original meaning while retaining traces of such connotations. Norinaga too interpreted it as signifying the Land of Eternal Night, understanding it through concepts like the underworld and Yomi. Eternal Night denotes not an absolute perspective on time but rather a physical place—it is absolute darkness. Within this meaning exists what appears to be an established phrase long familiar since antiquity: “to journey to Eternal Night.” This “journey” belongs to examples of continuous terminology, signifying that days and nights of absolute darkness persist without end.

Empress Jingū visited the southern region of Kii Province and met the Crown Prince in Hidaka.
……and she relocated to Kotake Palace.
At this time, daylight grew as dark as night.
Many days had already passed.
People of that era spoke of "journeying to Eternal Night."

The *Nihon Shoki* recorded this darkness through what appears to be a set phrase repeatedly used by reciters: "This must resemble how Amaterasu Ōmikami's retreat was described in the Heavenly Rock Cave episode of ancient tales—the great goddess hiding herself away and journeying to Eternal Night."
This Eternal Night does not seem to have been conceived as the name of any specific country, yet it elucidates precisely *tokoyo*'s primary meaning.
However, upon deeper consideration, it may have simply signified "having gone to the Land of Eternal Night."
It may have been an expression conveying a sense of existing in such a state.
Considering this context, the *Kojiki* passage—"Then all Takamagahara darkened, and Ashihara no Nakatsukuni became entirely shrouded in gloom"—
employs *tokoyo yuku* ("journey to Eternal Night") as an extremely fixed expression, likely because by the *Kojiki*'s compilation era it had already become a sacred archaism preserved verbatim from kataribe recitations.
We may reasonably imagine that our ancestors conceived this "Tokoyo"—the Land of Eternal Night in its primal meaning—as having truly existed.

XI. Island of Death

Expounding that niraikanai—the Pure Land of Ryukyuan religion traced back to treasure ship lore—was originally the Island of Death.
The niraikanai of our ancestors who settled in this land was in fact expressed through the term “Tokoyo no Kuni.”
It was the name of an offshore island where not only the dead from every village but all impurities were cast away.
The process by which that fearsome island became Tokoyo—a Pure Land of wealth, longevity, and even love—is explained through the development of niraikanai thought.
The spirits of those who joined the ranks of the deceased among the ancestors that established villages along the coast were all regarded as living on a distant island in the sea, present only in rare instances.
And thus, they would visit their descendants’ villages, bestow prophecies of happiness, and depart.
When they came, they arrived riding upon the Tokoyo waves; when they departed, they too were borne back upon those same waves.

At that time, Amaterasu Ōmikami instructed Yamato Hime no Mikoto, saying: “This land of Ise, where divine winds blow, is the country to which the layered waves of Tokoyo return. It is the beautiful land of the neighboring realm. I shall dwell in this land.”
(Nihon Shoki)

“Longing for my children, when I open the morning door and stay, the sound of waves from Tokoyo’s shore is heard.”
(Tango Fudoki Fragment)

These indeed gave the impression of facing the Eastern Gate of the Pure Land, but when one peered into the older impressions hidden beneath the words, they evoked thoughts of the divine voyages of coming and going.
Sukunahikona no Kami was a dwarf deity who, rocked by these waves, rode upon a boat made from the peel of a gourd fruit and drifted ashore from Tokoyo.
And it was said that when departing, he would climb the millet stalks of Awashima and be propelled by them to cross over to Tokoyo.
The fact that the oldest known treasure ship paintings bore the inscription “kagami no fune” indicated that this vessel had served as Sukunahikona no Mikoto’s means of transport—a point where scholars’ interpolated interpretations invited skepticism.
Even after people had forgotten Sukunahikona’s ancient rites, if there existed a custom of loading detested things onto gourd peels and casting them into the sea, then such practices—akin to “flea ships”—gained added antiquity through this association.

The phenomenon of Tokoyo no Kuni and Ne no Kuni appearing as one yet also being perceived as two distinct entities emerged after Tokoyo became idealized, with its aspect as the "Island of Death" coming to be represented by Ne no Kuni.
Moreover, Tokoyo became known as an island upon the sea or a country’s name, while Ne no Kuni was established as the country beneath the sea.

As an island where Sacred Visitors arrive and a realm of undying spirits, Tokoyo ceased to be eternal night.
Just as expected, the homophonic *yo* was rich in meanings—(grains) and age.
Associations gradually shifted in this direction, and combined with facts and language, they ultimately became an unshakable Pure Land of wealth and longevity.