Pathway to Japanese Literature

I. The Problem of Terminological Usage in Ancient Texts/Oral Traditions

In oral transmission, the phrases and stylistic quirks found in ancient texts/oral traditions—particularly those that were unique (limited to specific texts)—tended to become fixed earliest.
Therefore, the fact that many—indeed, exclusively—those who attempted to derive facts from ancient texts without considering how the linguistic sensibilities of successive eras and rational perspectives had already infiltrated them even prior to written records constituted an attitude fundamentally mistaken at its core.

There were also phrases that were passed down while remaining fixed—or remaining distorted—under the protection of a sacred worldview.
But in most cases, the common sense of incantation reciters and epic transmitters altered both the contextual surroundings and grammar of such phrases to make them consistent.
Texts and poetic works that revised or imitated oral traditions particularly compelled ancient modes of expression to compromise over time, in accordance with the era’s and individuals’ level of comprehension.
Prior to being recorded in texts such as the Kojiki, Nihon Shoki, and norito, changes had occurred to such an extent that they could no longer easily be restored to their original form.
Only after such processes had been thoroughly applied to ancient terms and new texts employing them did there finally arrive a time when the decline of old beliefs became suitable for recording—though some were still not permitted.
One must not forget that the Nara-period records consisted of expressions that maintained a certain distance from such original forms and meanings.
For example, terms such as Ama no Mikage (Heavenly Shade), Hi no Mikage (Solar Shade), Sumera Mikoto (Imperial Majesty), and Sumemima (Exalted Ones) were employed in the Nara period or in this modern era according to contemporary interpretations.
Among these, there were some single terms that possessed four or five or more usage examples.

Unless one considers both aspects—natural linguistic definitional changes and usage examples in pseudo-archaic texts based on rational interpretations of dead words and archaic terms—it should be impossible to comprehend the true form of ancient texts and factual realities.

II. The Term *Minuma*

The discussions I will present henceforth also find it convenient to proceed upon this argument, while simultaneously serving as one significant piece of evidence in its support.

The phrase "Wakamizunuma" found in the Izumo Kuni-no-Miyatsuko Norito—specifically in the passage: «On the ancient riverbanks yonder and hither, where Wakamizunuma grows tall (or perhaps 'stands flourishing'), indeed rejuvenatingly fresh, divinely renewing; in the waters of swift-flowing Otomi, indeed restored to youth, divinely transformed...»—had remained one of the most perplexing issues in Kokugaku scholarship since its inception regarding its fundamental meaning. Due to the presence of "生立" ("growing tall"), scholars tended to interpret it as a living organism. The preconception that it particularly resembled a plant appeared to have clouded their conclusions. Suzuki Shigenari—the sole Kokugaku scholar to demonstrate systematic rigor surpassing even Motoori Norinaga—presented the hypothesis that this constituted an error for "kurusu" as though it were definitive. But above all else, he had neglected to examine the diverse forms within the Norito's content and conceptual framework—forms that had undergone transformations across multiple eras.

At the earliest,[the ritual prayer] would have taken written form several decades into the Heian period—and more precisely，been officially recorded only after over a century had passed—a fact that had gone unnoticed.Not taking into account the long duration of oral transmission was the same attitude taken toward ancient ritual prayers of other court traditions.When one says，“On the ancient river’s far bank and near bank stands the young *minuma*,grown large and tall，”one cannot help but conjure associations of shrubs，grasses，or even water algae.At times，when they directed doubts toward“生立”(growing tall)and relied on the textual impression of“水沼間”(*mizunuma*)，it was only natural that they could perceive it as little more than a water puddle or abyss.In truth，the ancient texts/oral traditions themselves had，over the long course of oral transmission，come to incorporate such stereotypical interpretations.

As the closest example to this, there was the passage from the Jingu Chronicle’s “Appearance of the Sumiyoshi Deities” section: “Residing at the very bottom of Tachibana no Oto in Hyuga Province—the water-leaf young emerging deity.” The passage states: “Their names are the deities Uwatsutsuo, Nakatsutsuo, and Sokotsutsuo.” Viewed from an expressive perspective, this too appeared to have been considered as positioning phrases that modified aquatic plants and dewy fresh leaves within water. In alternative interpretations, some had posited *Mitsuha* as *mizubashiri*—the manner in which purifying water gushes forth.

*Minuma* and *Mitsuha* are undoubtedly the same word. To this clung the descriptor of youthfulness. But compared to the Norito, the term *ide* allowed greater flexibility in how *Mitsuha* was employed. It was a phrasing that could refer to either animals or humans. Only by doing so did one have to recognize that knowledge of ritual prayers and epics was presupposed in phrases concerning *Mitsuha*. Even so, one could say that with this method of notation, it had already become fixed—the rational interpretations of the recording era having been applied.

The single fact that pervades both these ancient texts could at last be discerned. This was that the term stood fundamentally connected to purification rituals. One might say that *minuma/mitsuha*—through being described as possessing youthful qualities and conceptualized as rejuvenating forces—appeared to carry such connotations. Within ancient purification methods, there had existed critical components—elements long since fallen from practice. As these texts underwent successive modifications, they progressively rationalized their fixed forms. *Mitsuha*, *minuma*, and their revitalizing spiritual energy became synthesized through diverse interpretive frameworks. This process ultimately warped the texts' original configurations beyond recognition.

The court’s Great Purification Ceremony had become far too divorced from its connection to water.
By overextending the efficacy of ritual prayers, there emerged a pronounced tendency toward reciting hollow formulae.
Meanwhile, through the mediation of the Jingi-kan’s Urabe diviners, Onmyōdō had been unconsciously reformulating ancient rites.
The purification ritual performed by the Izumo Kuni-no-Miyatsuko when journeying to the capital for celebratory offerings—as described in the Izumo Fudoki—appears to have maintained a relatively archaic form.
Yet what existed here—absent from both court ceremonies and ritual prayers—was precisely this element intertwined with Water Marshes.
These may have remained unrecorded as secret portions of the Ōharae norito and fusewari incantations.
However, the Ōharae norito shows it dealt exclusively with acts of expulsion.
There must have existed a passage expounding upon deities born from purification rites, followed by words blessing renewed life.
Thus before the Ōnaobi festival and its prayers became ritualized as Kagura and ceremonialized—even prior to this ceremonialization—the name *minuma* might first have emerged.

III. The Izumo People’s Minuha

In Izumo—the land of the Kuni-no-Miyatsuko who recited the Norito—they also knew Water Marshes (*minuma*) to be a divine name.
They recognized it as Minuha.
The Provincial Gazetteers register two shrines.
Both were located in Kizuki, where the Kuni-no-Miyatsuko resided.
Yet when encountering *minuma*, they could no longer perceive it as anything but an obscure term from ritual prayers and epics whose meaning had been lost.

The character for Water Marshes (*minuma*) appears twice in the same Nita District chapter of the Provincial Gazetteers.

In Mitsu Village... When Ōanamuchi no Mikoto's divine child, Ajisukitakahikone no Mikoto... [the narrative continues:] The Great Deity prayed in a dream: "Tell me why the divine child weeps." When he thus entreated through the dream, he perceived the divine child's response conveyed within that vision.

When he awoke and inquired, they replied "Mitsu."

At that moment when he asked, "Where is this place you speak of?" he immediately rose from before his ancestor, crossed the Ishikawa River, ascended the slope and halted there, then declared: "This is the place."

At that time, within the Water Marsh at Kitsu (?), he purified himself through ablutions.

Therefore, when the Kuni-no-Miyatsuko reported these divine auspicious matters and attended the imperial court, they began drawing forth and utilizing that Water Marsh.

The author of the Critical Study of the Izumo Fudoki, Mr. Gotō, also adhered to the water-drawing theory.
This entry appeared to have been a ritual-chanted epic—continuous in nature—comprising the scattered accounts of Ajisukitakahikone no Mikoto found throughout this book.
I think it was likely chanted during the succession of the Kuni-no-Miyatsuko or when performing annual purification rituals.
As an origin of purification customs, there existed a passage that spoke of Water Marshes' emergence; indeed, Water Marshes seemed to have actively operated in reality.
But that ritual prayer differed from the Norito; it was an incantation that expounded the relationship between Ajisukitakahikone no Kami and purification.
The ancient texts—in fragmented form—had infiltrated even the Norito; Water Marshes and their deeply associated living ritual implement of swans appeared to have forcibly intruded into them.

Since Mizunuma, Minuma, and Minuba (or Minuha) appear in three variations within Izumo literature, emending them to “water drawing” (*mizukumi*) remains problematic. To the degree requiring correction from later interpretations, the *minuma* (“Water Marshes”) in the Provincial Gazetteers possessed an uncanny quality. It had been transmitted as something resembling human-like entities. By Tenpyō 5 [737 CE], when these gazetteers were compiled, those faith traditions had likely already waned. Thus the ancient oral accounts describing ritual practices may have come to evoke mere purification puddles rather than sacred marshes. Undoubtedly, the very manifestation of *minuma* beings had long been relegated to legend. As for Mitsu Village’s etymology, one might better consider that “Mitsu” in 「三津」 preserves *mitsuma*’s “mitsu,” or that Mitsusawa—following Mr. Gotō’s theory—embodies “minu” (interpreting 沢 as “nu”/“numa”). Otherwise, the purification rites conducted by Kuni-no-Miyatsuko versed in Ajisukitakahikone no Kami would lack any account explaining *minuma*’s origins. The toponymic shift from “tsu” to “nu” flows more naturally than a hypothetical change to “sawa.”

IV. The Minuma Clan of Tsukushi

The Chikugo Mitsuma District was the ancient stronghold of the Minuma Clan.
Clans bearing this name appeared to have comprised several branches.
The families that enshrined the Munakata Three Goddesses were said to have been of the Kimi lineage, though this likely became confused in later periods.
There were cases where clans adopted the name Minuma precisely because they served the Munakata Deities.
These Three Goddesses were deities of wide distribution, but due to similarities in their natures, many became syncretized with different gods.

It would currently be correct to view the faith of these deities as having spread from Usa to Munakata, and thence to Mitsuma.
However, one cannot consider that this family name first came into being in the land of Mitsuma.

Earlier than that, there existed the divine name Minuma.
The Munakata Three Goddesses gained renown because they resided along the maritime route centered on Kanenokosaki Cape (I consider this to be the northern sea route in contrast to Umi no Nakamichi) and protected those who worshipped them.
It cannot be said that the faith of the Minuma priests did not syncretize with the Munakata deities precisely because they shared similar forms.
To the extent that such considerations can be made, the Minuma deities were widely pervasive since ancient times.
The place name Mitsuma has undergone changes in pronunciation across different periods—minuma, mimuma (as recorded in the *Wamyōshō*), mitsuma, and others.
However, overall, in the ancient era of ineffective record-keeping, phonetic values shifted with far greater fluidity.

To state upfront what will lead to the conclusion: it appears that *minuma*, *minuha*, *mitsuha*, *mitsume*, *minume*, *mirume*, *hinuma*, and *hinume* underwent transformations while being understood as representing the same essence. As for those that became place names, there existed further abbreviated forms like *minu*, *mitsu*, and *hinu*; moreover, county and village titles such as *mima*, *mime*, and *hime* were formed by discarding *tsu* and *nu* entirely when these were interpreted as possessive case auxiliary particles.

V. Nibu and the Mibu Groups

The numerous clans and villages of the Mibu Groups gradually forgot their old customs and became linked through phonetic association to “Mifu.” But early on, their occupations changed and came to be regarded as extending beyond Yuzu (ritual bath attendants), Yumo (bath priestesses), Ubai (wet nurses), and Heshaku (food chewers). However, even seeing it written as “Chichibu” (乳部), one could infer its connection to wet nurses. When we observe that it is written as 入部 but read as “Mibu,” we discern a link to the Nibu (cinnabar) goddess—or perhaps “entering water.” This orthography could also be interpreted as deriving from their specialized duties and phonetic awareness of *mi* and *ni*.

As I would later discuss, the resemblance between the Nibu deities and Minuma deities was striking. In Yamato court traditions, when we observe how they syncretized the Nibu deities with later-arriving Minuma deities to create the Mitsuha no Me, we may also infer that these deities held ritual duties connected to the ceremonial waters of Masuyuza and Yumo.

Indeed, the connection between Mibu Groups and ritual birth baths becomes clear through ancient accounts of Emperor Hanzei and the Tanbi Mibu Group. The specialized titles emerging from childbirth attendants’ division of labor likely originated through splitting terminology like *nifu* and *mifu*. The *Man'yōshū* contains poems interpreting “red earth” as open fields where cinnabar was mined—rational interpretations that seemingly inspired the characters for Nibu (丹生). We may reasonably accept phonetic shifts from *nifube* to *mifube* and ultimately *mibu*.

The Mibu Groups, who were involved in matters from birth baths to upbringing, likely served the role of pouring purifying water at a noble child's emergence.
This became one formative cause of the Minai Groups.
The core of the Mibu Groups was indeed composed of women closely related to the clan chieftain.
The noble young scion who thus emerged would later marry these women—a practice reflecting ancient customs.
Ancient accounts of households connected to water's edge or water deities that preserved Tamayorihime's name all belonged to this category.
From referring to the wet nurse deity as "Obā" in contrast to the ancestral mother deity emerged terms for maternal aunt—specifically denoting a father's wife's younger brother.
This also formed the basis for faith in the crone deity who nurtured divine beings.

The Nakatomi Heavenly Norito of the Daijōsai explained the origin of heavenly water only as provisions for food and drink; however, in the incantation for the sun child’s revival, there must have been a passage describing the ritual of pouring birth bath water.
“From sunset until the morning sun shines, proclaim with the grand norito and words of the Heavenly Norito.”
“If it is thus proclaimed...” —it does not continue with “...until the morning sun shines with Heavenly Norito...”
From the perspective of norito composition conventions, it halts here and transitions to the secret Heavenly Norito.
The fact that such birth bath matters were likely included in this Heavenly Norito was attested by the old account of Emperor Hanzei’s birth bath, in which Tanbino Irokinu Sukune performed the Heavenly Norito.
The emergence of noble offspring was one and the same as both birth and ascension to the throne.
The Heavenly Norito—which spoke of birth baths and food and drink—appears to have had such elements gradually omitted as it passed from the selected members of successive Mibu Groups into the hands of Nakatomi priests.

However, even in the *norito* ritual prayers performed by the Nakatomi, the emergence of such mifu-like elements could be inferred from Nakatomi women of obscure origin having served in the purification ritual segments for the emperor. That the Nakatomi Heavenly Norito and the sacred water—namely, the birth bath—used in imperial purification rites had been more closely interconnected in antiquity, and that shrine maidens who attended to them served in *nifu* divine roles, did not seem an unreasonable supposition. The traditions of the Tanbi clan and the *Nihon Shoki*’s account of Emperor Hanzei’s imperial birth that appeared to derive from them constituted a potent seed. The Chronicle of Emperor Richū appeared to have conflated certain old accounts in its writing. The tale of the forked boat floated on a pond and the manifestation of the Munakata Three Goddesses were connected to the deity Ajisukitakahikone in the *Izumo Fudoki* and Emperor Suinin’s Homuchiwake. Therefore, it could be inferred that even for the Mitsuha Wake Emperor, the story following his birth had been transmitted within the Tanbi Mibu Group.

VI. That Hinuyama Is Hinuma Mountain

Minuma and Mitsuha constitute a single term, though the Mitsuha in Mitsuha no Me may also be regarded as one and the same.
The Sinicized characters for 'Kōsōnyo' reflected a perception of monstrous qualities in this Tanbi deity.
Moreover, this female divine name was employed in contrast to the male divine name Okami.
Given that Okami denotes a serpent-form deity governing waters, it appears certain that Mitsuha no Me was conceived as either a female serpent or an aquatic creature.
Through the Yamato-centric lens of divinity, both Okami and Mitsuha no Me manifest as mountain-valley spirits.
Yet they should fundamentally be considered through broader associations with seas and rivers.

Evidence that Okami—the serpentine counterpart to dragons—and Mitsuha no Me, equated with Kōsōnyo, were regarded as deities of ritual water could also be discerned from the Jimmu Chronicle’s statement: “They designated the water deity as solemn Kōsōnyo.” However, generally speaking, the Mitsuha no Me appearing in the Kojiki and Nihon Shoki were said to have been transformed into a goddess’s urine or tears, unrelated to purification rites. Conversely, the reason one might suspect there had also been theories positing their metamorphosis into a male deity’s excretions lay in their association with impurity.

The “Mitohanome Shrine” in Mima District of Awa Province was a deity demanding particular attention. It demonstrated that Yamato’s Mitsuha no Me and Mitsuha/Minuma constituted a single entity. The name Mima District appeared to be a toponym that had undergone phonetic fluctuations among *minuma*, *mitsuma*, and *mirume*. These place names undoubtedly derived from divine appellations.

I found the suffix *-nome* noteworthy—terms like *Toyooka no Me* and *Ōmiya no Me*... This *-nome* carried connotations of female spirits rather than full-fledged deities. These entities were perceived as occupying a tier below proper gods. The shrines of Mitsuha no Me likely adopted this solemn appellation by appending *-nome* through exposure to courtly divine nomenclature from Urabe ritualists originating in Awa. The coastal stretch along Settsu’s western border was known as Minume no Ura—or alternatively Mirume—for several leagues. Here stood the Minume Shrine, where Minume itself served as the deity’s name. As previously discussed, the Munakata Three Goddesses enshrined by the Minuma clan of Chikugo had manifested at Amanai no Ukehi, the divination well of heavenly truth. This leads me to conclude they also functioned as purification deities, though Minuma and Munakata likely began as distinct entities that underwent early syncretization.

The matter of “Hinuyama” in the *Tango Fudoki* Fragments. Because it was near Hichi no Sato, the mountain’s name came to be determined as Hijiyama. When referring to Tanba Michinushi no Ō with modifiers like “*hinuma* (ice marsh)…,” it becomes evident that the *hinuma* place name had existed since antiquity. This Hinuma too belonged to the Minuma unified system.

The same matters discussed in Chapter 1 were carried out in relation to this term until distant later periods.
“My crow-feather-jade black hair has aged until drawing Mitsuha water from Shirakawa—ah!”
Even if one comprehended the aspect involving auspicious teeth in the poetic tale of Hikagai Ōbā from *Yamato Monogatari*, drawing water does not sit well with “has aged—ah!”
This, I would argue, was merely the habitual use of rhetorical devices tied to the reviving waters of the Mitsuha goddess—devices carried over into the Heian period even as their original significance grew obscure.
In ancient works of this poetic type, the act of drawing Mitsuha water was likely clearly composed.
In any case, I believe we must consider that in songs wishing for rejuvenation in old age, there existed a tradition of invoking “Mitsuha…”, associating it with auspicious teeth and employing water-related wordplay.

The name *Tanbi no Mizuha Wake* foregrounded the association with auspicious teeth, though I had previously established its origin in the Mitsuha deity's name. Ancient Japanese logic manifested through the endless metaphorical transformation of poetic diction and symbols of divine manifestation. Mitsuha concurrently became celebratory language for auspicious dentition. Yet this constituted a later-acquired significance. The primordial meaning nevertheless demanded separate consideration.

Minuma・Mitsuha・Mitsuma・Minume・Mirume・Hinuma.
The common thread among these terms lay in their being place names related to water deities, in contrast to which there appear to have existed nifu (cinnabar) and the Munakata Three Goddesses.

The goddess who manifested at Manai Spring on Hinuyama Mountain in Tango was Toyooka no Me, the deity of the Outer Shrine.
This constituted her divine appellation in her capacity as the god of water and sake.
This deity had originally bathed in the waters of Hinuma's Manai.
When considering the existence of the Wanasao Hoso Shrine in Naka District alongside Awa's Mitsuha no Me Shrine, there must have existed a Hinuma Manai-style narrative.
In Izumo as well stood the Wanasao Kina Shrine, where deities called Ahakibe and Wanasahiko were enshrined.
The connection between Awa's Wanasao and Ōsoto becomes discernible.
If one recognizes that Tanba's Unawi deity served as the god of the Outer Shrine, then the deity governing water as both sake and sustenance was also envisioned in virginal form.
This represents one facet of Mitsuha.

VII. Divine Maidens Assisting Purification Rituals

The Minuma that appeared in Izumo’s ancient texts was a divine name that fell into early oblivion. Mitsuha first emerged from the water and offered the tested water to Ajisukitakahikone no Mikoto for ablution. Due to this connection, it tells of a custom where when the Izumo Kuni-no-Miyatsuko traveled to the capital to present ritual prayers, Mitsuha would first emerge according to precedent before they began using this water. The reason why the Provincial Gazetteers already contained highly ambiguous passages was likely that their compilers attempted to preserve vestiges of ancient terms through literal translation up to a point while rendering incomprehensible parts differently. When these became ritual prayers, they grew even more obscure through excessive rhythmic stylization. The so-called old rivers of two locations came to be called riverbanks and were gradually conceptualized through vegetal transformation. Admittedly, even the Jingū Chronicle displayed writing that seemed to treat them as plants. The expressions in these ancient texts remained somewhat suspended in ambiguity. In any case, “Mitsuha…” was used in a prelude-like manner and should be interpreted as signifying a deity emerging vigorously—akin to the Mitsuha deity’s own youthful essence.

It seems that among Mitsuha deities, there existed one called Wakamitsuha (Young Mitsuha) who would appear during purification rituals to attend to them. The ancient explanation regarding this deity's origin—that it was born from the impurities of those performing purification—may have ceased to be transmitted. In any case, after this goddess emerged and hesitated between choosing the upper and lower rapids as the purification site, she bathed in the suitable middle rapids. They apparently determined the ritual location by emulating this behavior. This practice was repeated for ages with unclear significance until a woman embodying Minuma emerged to guide the purification ceremonies. These rituals gradually became systematized into activities resembling those of Nakatomi women in waterside purification rites, while the incantations associated with them grew increasingly meaningless. People began interpreting them through other knowledge systems and customs, warping their conceptual foundations. There, even as the general meaning clarified, expressions tinged with vague emotionality likely surfaced.

The origins of the Ōyue and Wakayue ritual positions also became discernible. Within Minuma traditions, there were likely candidates or reserves called Wakaminuma bearing preparatory significance. In Yamato court incantations and narratives, Mitsuha came to be viewed merely as a deity of rain and snow—a female spirit counterpart to Okami—while even the Nibu Goddess shows traces of being considered somewhat distinct; this likely resulted from later syncretic adaptations.

Before Izanagi's purification ritual, Kukurihime no Kami—who appears in a Nihon Shoki variant text at Yomotsu Hirasaka delivering a divine proclamation—might she not belong to the Minuma category of deities? When compiling these narratives, perhaps due to inherent confusion in original tales or through editorial compression, chroniclers may have juxtaposed the subsequent account of Awakihara's purification rites with Yomotsu Hirasaka's netherworld guardian's declaration. The record stating "they dispersed upon approving her words" should likely be understood as indicating her instruction of purification methods. Kukuri denotes the act of submerging through water. That the character 泳 (swim/dive) was assigned here reveals the divine name's essence—it must derive from the goddess who emerged through kukuri immersion. As narratives exclusively attributed actions to Izanagi no Mikoto, this deity became relegated to obscurity. The aforementioned Jingū Chronicle passage manifests as a fragmented remnant of the purification epic extending from this Kukurihime to Mitsuha.

The names of the Sumiyoshi deities dwell in the depths, mid-currents, and surface—three differentiated forces that reinvigorated the divine form through their vital energies. The term 'tsutsu' constitutes an ancient word signifying 'snake' (interpreted as thunder), discernible from its assigned character meaning 'to dive'. While scholars have historically interpreted the particle 'wo' as denoting masculinity, the deities of Monou, Munakata, and Minuma—conceptualized alongside it—were never true divinities. They existed as women intimately connected to the gods—shrine maidens living as divine maidens through sacred service. Though Kaihoku Michinushi no Ki became the collective designation for the Munakata Three Goddesses, Tanba Michinushi no Ki—who served Tanba's Hinu deity long considered their equivalent—bore the hereditary title of families housing eastern San'in's highest-ranking sacred figures: shrine maidens embodying divine presence.

VIII. Divine Maidens of Ritual Attendance

The mendicant wandering life of provincial ritualists dispersed deities across the land.
This finds terse expression in Izumo's Ahakibe Wanasahiko Shrine name.
It signifies their migration from Awa—their settling there.
The Wanasao Hoso of Awa I earlier touched upon became Wanasahiko who reached Izumo, while Tanba's Wanasao elders undoubtedly served as collective designations for ritualists propagating Minuma faith and narratives.
Wanasa ritualists bearing tutelary deities doubled as Minuma-Wanasa tale-reciters.
The Wanasa tales' elderly pair being definitively called Wanasa-okina and Wanasa-uba stands to reason.
For logical simplicity, Hinu-Nagu deities too might be deemed Ohogetsuhime and Toyooka no Me transplanted from Awa—Outer Shrine divinities.
Yet regarding Wanasa ritualists' ancestral territories, significant uncertainties persist.

I believe that the Unawi deity of Hinu was a divine maiden for purification rituals who had come to simultaneously manifest the form of the deity she served. This was the ancient form of the “Eight Maidens” emerging from the house of Tanba Michinushi no Ki. This divine maiden was not only summoned to Ise—she also ascended to the imperial court for priestly service. This story explaining her origins had long been regarded as stemming from Empress Sahohime’s recommendation. Though this passage had been overly documented, I will cite it here for future reference.

The Emperor further proclaimed to his Empress: “All children’s names must be given by their mothers. How shall I call this child’s august name?”
She respectfully replied: “……”.
He further commanded: “How shall we perform the sun-treading ritual?” She respectfully replied: “By taking the imperial mother and establishing Ōyue and Wakayue (It would be more accurate to interpret this as ‘taking the imperial mother… and establishing them in the yue positions’).”
“Further, by interpreting ‘taking the imperial mother’ as ‘nurturing imperial mother’—signifying [her role] as…—and establishing [her] in the Ōyue position (it could also be interpreted thus), it would be appropriate to dedicate [the ritual].”
Following the Empress’s proposal, he humbly performed the sun-treading ritual.
He further inquired of the Empress: “Who could untie your Koobika?”
She respectfully replied: “The daughters of Tanba Hikotatatsumi Chino Ushi no Ō—named Ehiime and Otohiime—these two queens are (?) pure subjects.”
“If they were dispatched, it would be proper.…”

Furthermore, in accordance with the Empress’s proposal, he summoned four deities—the daughters of Michi no Ushi no Ō: Hibasuhime no Mikoto; next, Otohiime no Mikoto (where it should read “Otohiime no Mikoto… Mikoto… Mikoto”); then Utagorihime no Mikoto; and finally Marono no Hime no Mikoto.
(*Suinin-ki* [Chronicles of Emperor Suinin])

“Even were I to die, I dare not forget Your Majesty’s grace.
I humbly request that the affairs of the rear palace under my charge be properly entrusted to a worthy consort.”
In Tanba Province there existed five women.
They shared resolute purpose and maintained chastity.
These were daughters of Tanba Michinushi no Ō.
(Michinushi no Ō was the son [or grandson] of Emperor Wakayamato Nekoo Ōhibi and child of Prince Hikoasu.)
(Another account states he was son of Prince Hiko Yumusumi.) It was proposed they be admitted to the inner court to supplement the rear palace ranks. The Emperor gave consent. [...] He summoned Tanba’s five women and admitted them to the inner court.
The first was named Hibasuhime; the second Jūhatani Niiruhime; the third Matono Hime; the fourth Shin Niiruhime; and the fifth Takeno Hime.
(*Suinin-ki*)

In what follows, while the *Kojiki* recorded two brother princes, the *Nihon Shoki* described how Takeno Hime—on the journey back to their province—in shame plunged into a steep abyss (recorded in the *Nihon Shoki* as “self-falling palanquin”) and died. From this, the place name once called "Ochikuni" (Fallen Province) came to be referred to as "Otoguni" (Younger Brother Province), or had become transmitted in the Nagahime-style tradition.

I conjecture that even in this tradition of curses by wicked women, there must have been elements that fell away. The account that explained the circumstances behind Homuchiwake no Miko’s muteness had already been transformed into the Great Deity of Izumo’s curse in the *Kojiki*. The reason for connecting Izumo and the Mute Prince lay elsewhere. The textual passage “自堕輿而死” in the *Nihon Shoki* should be interpreted as “fell by herself, rose, and died,” and it would be better to consider 輿 (*koshi*, palanquin) as an error for 興 (*kyō*, rising/action). "Plop." In one usage example of the term “ochiiru,” there must have existed the meaning of falling into water and drowning. Among methods of suicide, it contained stories that told the origin of drowning oneself. The divine maiden of Tanba Michinushi no Ki, who pioneered dying in water, was a woman of the water—this was what I had concluded.

IX. Elder Maidens and Younger Maidens

Even the *Kojiki* and *Nihon Shoki*—which do not expound upon divine maidens—acknowledged groups of two or more individuals.
The numbers of divine maidens were counted as seven maidens, eight maidens, nine maidens, and so forth.
This occurred because numerical terms indicating approximate quantities had undergone changes over time.
Simultaneously, there emerged instances where these numbers became fixed as specific numerical values.
First came the ancient Seven Maidens, later supplanted by Eight Maidens gaining prominence.
This shift stemmed from ritual dancers’ numbers being deemed most compatible with the Chinese-style “佾” (row formation) unit.
In ordinary divine maiden assemblies, seven maidens were referenced; eight maidens were predominantly employed for ritual dances.
Indeed, even at Hinusan—the origin point of Eight Maidens—those who bathed in Manai’s waters were recorded as Seven Maidens.
Thus seven—or eight in ancient “Eight Maidens” usage—evolved through stages: first denoting indefinite multitudes, then developing dual usages as collective/ordinal numerals, before finally stabilizing as the fixed numeral seven.
It was during this evolution that contradictions emerged within oral traditions.

The term "Seven Maidens" was employed to signify either the entire group of divine maidens or a portion thereof, and could be applied even when referring to four or five individuals. From this interpretive framework, even the Eight Maidens originally maintained flexibility in their actual numbers. Among that group of divine maidens, the highest-ranking one was called "Elder" (e), and the remainder were collectively referred to as "Younger" (oto). The *Kojiki*, already constrained by the period-specific usage of “younger” (*oto*), accumulated contradictions. Just as “great” was used for the Elder, “younger” was employed for the Younger to denote high-ranking divine maidens of secondary status. From this convention, one can see that a differentiation was made between using “the many” and “a single individual of secondary rank” even for the Younger. Thus, they established two divine maidens who particularly approached the gods, and among them, the one of secondary status came to be called Younger.

It was the women of Tanba Michinushi no Ki’s house who entered the court as such a group of divine maidens. For what purpose were these Seven Maidens summoned? Needless to say, it was to reverently untie the sacred water cord. Yet when one speaks of cords, what immediately arises in association is sexual life. In the interpretations of earlier scholars too, this preconception dominated, causing them to overlook a vital facet of ancient existence. The matter formed an unbroken sequence of facts. Those divine maidens who handled the mystery of the "cord" were required by their conditions to hold the qualification of "deity’s bride." The act of untying the sacred water cord did not directly mean entrusting it to the Cord Master. The one who most intimately served in the holy office of approaching the deity’s person was the supreme divine maiden. Moreover, this was a duty involving contact with the profound secrets of the august form. There existed a ritual of untying and retying the sacred water’s cord.

The Seven Maidens of Manai’s celestial beings and the Azuma Asobi celestial beings of the Eight Maidens lineage—their power of flight was tied to the Heavenly Feather Robe. However, I consider the notion that divine maidens donned heavenly feather robes to be a development in oral traditions. There existed a god who was dressed in and divested of the Heavenly Feather Robe by divine maidens’ hands. Having received that god’s divine power, the divine maidens themselves came to be regarded as gods. Thus, by regarding the god and divine maidens as equals, they gradually came to forget the god. When that happened, even the divine maidens’ service to the god became actions performed by the divine maidens themselves. Something like the Heavenly Feather Robe was an object attached to the god’s person. They who revered the court’s master as a god himself would refer to the bath utensils regularly used—but only during the Daijōsai ceremony conducted according to ancient precedent—as the Heavenly Feather Robe. Later generations, fixated on the name “robe,” seemed to have made it something that covered even the upper body—but was it not originally a far smaller thing in antiquity? In any case, during purification rituals and ritual baths, it is thought to have been a purification cloth that was untied and separated in hot water or water. There were shrine maidens who, using a mysterious knotting method that no one knew how to untie, firmly tied that cloth and served the spiritual binding of the divine personage becoming a god. This sacred office, having gradually had its original meaning forgotten, became—except during the Daijōsai ceremony—the mundane duty of low-ranking court ladies. The Diary of the Upper Mikurogiden makes clear the significance of its duties simply through the sheer length of time over which it was continuously written. It appears to have originally been a daily record of rituals conducted in the Mikurogiden. In His Majesty’s daily life within the court, the most sacred time was that of humbly offering hot water. The divine words and deeds during this time had to be recorded. In this manner, the diary that had begun came to record matters concerning His Majesty’s health and such, and it appears to have eventually reached the point of even preserving trivial matters. Though they did not know its origins, it persisted through a long age as an indispensable ritual. The mystery of the Mikurogiden had passed into ancient times. An era arrived that regarded hair and ceremonial headdresses as matters of great importance; the focus shifted to the Mikushidono, and the treatment of noblewomen serving there grew increasingly esteemed.

X. The Sacred Office Bearing the Name Fujiwara

It appears there was a period prior to the Heian era when participation in this sacred office of ritual bathing became the duty of the Nakatomi women.
The Fujiwara Clan’s political influence secured within the court was due to the increased opportunities for their clan’s women to handle the Heavenly Feather Robe.

Having addressed the water deity of my hill to make [it] fall—the snow crumbled and scattered there (*Man'yōshū*, Book 2).

Emperor Tenmu’s consort, Lady Fujiwara no Ōtoji, resided in Ōhara on the hill of Asuka, attending to the Emperor.
A poem such as this was lightly regarded as a playful response to the teasing phrase “If you wish to make [it] fall...”
However, it demonstrated that the women of the Fujiwara clan had a connection to the water deity.
“Matters of rain and snow are our specialty.”
The pride they took as water priestesses in making such declarations must have been strikingly perceived by people of antiquity.
The reason Fujii-ga-hara was renamed Fujiwara was because it was centered on well water.
I consider that it was because the Nakatomi women and their protectors—through their magical power over water—renamed [the place] to Fujiwara on the hill of Asuka and thereby demonstrated a single divine sign.
Even when examining the Nakatomi Norito, we see it presenting the form of an orthodox lineage of sacred offices intertwined with water and hot springs.
The role of the Nakatomi women afforded them more opportunities to gain imperial favor than women of other clans.
The legend transmitted about Empress Kōmyō—who washed a Buddhist incarnation that manifested as a disabled person in connection with administering medicinal baths—also narrates the historical background wherein court divine maidens, originally serving as Nakatomi women, rejected courtly traditions and even ascended to empress status.
The place name Fujiwara and the family name Fujiwara are both designations for a land and lineage associated with handling water.
Being Sotoorihime’s Fujiwara no Iratsume—residing on a coast linked to purification rites, possessing a poetic tale of taboo seaweed—the reason she became the goddess of Wakaura despite lacking an apparent connection now grows somewhat clearer.

I was attempting to complete this lengthy discourse by centering on two points: that ancient empresses originated from aquatic realms as daughters of water deities, and that their sacred office involved serving purification rites signifying imperial enthronement and revivification.
From portions addressing this matter in my university lectures, an expanded proposal had been presented by Mr. Mukōyama Takeo.
According to this proposal, there existed a tradition stating that Sotoorihime's elder sister—the consort of Emperor Ingyō—endured the cold of ritual water basins and persuaded her royal husband to ascend the heavenly throne, thereby demonstrating her significance as a woman of water.
I considered this a brilliant insight.
Impurities too could be eradicated through grueling purification rituals resembling ascetic practices, while simultaneously emphasizing how water maidens serving the Heavenly Feather Robe endured immersion in frigid waters.
The phrase "carried a water basin" likely referred to their endurance of prolonged submersion alongside divine beings in the Saikō River's currents.
Indeed, the fact that Tainaka Hime—apparently this empress's sister and Sotoorihime herself—had her ritual proxy designated as Kawabe demonstrates that Anihime and Otōhime were water women emerging from Ohohodonomiko's lineage.

However, Sotoorihime’s proxy was recorded in the Chronicles as the Fujiwara group.
The name Fujiwara shows that it was a place name deeply associated with water deities, became both a family and group designation, and was by no means confined to the location of Asuka Hill.
*Fuji* was an ancient word that became fixed as “*fuchi*” (abyss) and persisted as one with it.
The parent of Kamuhatatobe was Yamashiro no Ōkuni Fuchi (recorded as Ōkuni no Fuchi in the Chronicles).
Could this not be an example of an older term denoting a water deity?
Names like Fukabuchi’s Mizuyarebana no Kami and Shikobuchi—along with honorifics such as *ki* and *son*—appear to be designations intertwined with water deities.
If there was a sacred spring, they perceived that it contained an abyss housing a *fuchi*; if the site lacked connection to river valleys, they would call it Fuchihara.

The water of *mizunowohimo* appears to have been regarded as “auspicious water” (*mizu*). Yet it held an even more primordial meaning. This *mizu* reveals the etymological root of the word “water.” From a designation originally confined to sacred water, even ordinary drinking water came to be called *mizu*. Before the concept of “holy water” emerged, they seem to have used this term for waters that arrived from distant pure lands at appointed times to serve purification rites. The *mitsu* associated with high tides was likely its verbal form. Thus did these waves from Tokoyo—the eternal realm—wash ashore, ascend rivers, penetrate mountain springs’ depths, and become spring’s first waters (*waka mizu*). *Mitsumitsushi* described those bathed in this water from visage to form, branching into meanings like “valiant,” “ferocious,” “youthful,” and “vibrantly alive.” This likely expanded from blessings uttered over daily waters beyond spring’s inaugural draughts. That high tide came to signify human birth’s moment stemmed from beliefs that souls arrived from Tokoyo. Plants like *mitsunukashi*—called “triangular oak” or “sacred cord oak”—and trees known as *mizuki*, all used in purification rites, were thought to have drifted from beyond the sea to take root here.

*Mitsu* also became place names. These were shores where purification rituals were conducted as landing points for Tokoyo waves—those eternal surges from beyond. The honorific designation Mitsu (御津) emerged through later reinterpretation, where scholars retroactively derived the reverential "mi" (御) from the core element "tsu" (津) itself. By extending this concept of Tokoyo waves carrying ships from distant realms, people came to conceptualize *mitsu* broadly as harbors, eventually shortening it to simply "tsu." This explains why Izumo's "Mitsu"—where the Kuni-no-Miyatsuko performed ablutions—coexists with Naniwa's "Mitsu," site of rituals like the Yaso Island Purification and Imperial Purification. Even terrain perfectly suited to being called *tsu* wasn't universally designated as such. Eventually, only the initial syllable of *mitsu* survived in compound words denoting water.

XI. Heavenly Feather Robe

*Mizunowohimo* was a term commemorating rituals performed within purification's holy waters.
It was never styled an honorific like "auspicious."
This cord had likely been knotted in a manner resembling what they called a "hemp cord" (*awa-o*).

The Heavenly Feather Robe and mizunowohimo were not garments one could readily don for entering hot springs or rivers.
Even among thermal waters and rivers, the custom became established of entering while still clothed, making them easier to wear when bathing in hot springs.
Modern folk bathing implements also followed this pattern.
There the water maiden would appear, loosening knots known only to herself, liberating them from prolonged purification taboos.
At that very moment, she gained the autonomous status befitting a deity.
Later this became magical practice for health.
But originally, during their ascetic lives to attain divine qualification, they had tied what they considered the source of life—both to prevent external violation and avoid self-transgression.
After this ritual taboo, they entered the water, became rejuvenated, and fully transformed into deities.
Thus the Heavenly Feather Robe became unnecessary during the deity's own existence—the notion that they took and concealed it to become earthly people stemmed from later perspectives on taboo garments.
Now upon entering life as deities, they fulfilled desires surpassing ordinary people's.
The woman who untied the mizunowohimo, having touched divine mystery, became the deity's bride.
They likely first began constructing hot water shelves and beams for this divine rite.

Explanations centered on the hot water hall had begun to feel constricting.
I found myself compelled to speak of even more ancient purification rituals conducted at water’s edge.
When people spoke of *yu*, they came to envision warm water through the concept of *izuru yu* (“welling *yu*”).
They praised this warm Tokoyo water—signifier of sacredness emerging unexpectedly—as *yukaha* and *izuru yu*.
The archaic meaning of *izu* seemed to denote unforeseen manifestation.
This same belief in rejuvenating waters had been transmitted even to the Okinawan archipelago.
Genkawa-bushi’s verse—“Genkawa Hashirikawa ya:
Is it water? *Yu*? Or tide?—
Phrases like ‘Genkawa-miyarabi’s Place of Sacred Rebirth’ conveyed how village priestesses bathed in Tokoyo waves arriving at appointed times.

The water from Tokoyo was believed to be warmer than ordinary water; however, when it came to *yu*, they began considering even higher temperatures.
*Yu* was originally purification.
Yet left thus unexamined, this hardly constitutes proper discourse.
The forms of ritual-use water (*saigi-yōsui*) or Yukaha-mizu gradually contracted until ritual-use water could be expressed through the single sound *yu*.
Therefore, *yu* initially denoted geographical regions where purification rituals were conducted.
There are also instances where ritual abstinence and bathing were called *yukaha ami* (the Nihon Shoki glosses 沐浴 as *ami*).
Gradually they began constructing *yukaha* facilities within houses and performing *yukaha ami* rituals.
If we infer that *izuru yukaha* ("emerging sacred water") corresponds to *ideyu*, then *yukaha* must have already transitioned into lukewarm water at an early stage.
As *yukaha* came to feel incongruous when treated as household objects, it was natural that *yu*—the term signifying *yukaha*—gradually became the name for tepid water.

XII. Tanabata Maidens

The former forms of *yukaha* were mostly located at seashores or deep pools of rivers connected to the sea. When villages moved deep into mountainous regions, they appear to have selected locations such as branch rivers of great streams and areas where ponds or lakes extended inward. There they would construct a yukahadana (sacred water platform), where elder virgins—selected from among the village shrine maidens (all born there acquired this status after coming-of-age rites)—resided in these platform-built structures awaiting divine visitation. This was apparently called *osazuki* (or *sajiki*) when built in watchtower style, and *tana* when constructed as cliffside edifices. The lives of these maidens later became legend, entering the narrative mold of sacrifices to water deities. For the impending god’s arrival, they prepared looms and wove cloth—for divine garments were considered extensions of the deity’s very body. This impression of remote antiquity has endured to this day. The clack of looms could still be heard in marine abysses beneath cliffs, near stagnant pools of great rivers and ravines, and frequently around waterfall basins. In those watery depths dwelled a woman weaving at her loom—called a young maiden in some regions, an old crone in others. After all, there were those who aged into grandmothers after years of isolation from their villages, while others—their pitiable youthful forms still vivid in villagers’ memories—were sent directly to the yukahadana; thus their perceived ages varied widely. Being forbidden sacred sites that villagers dared not approach, people likely only ever heard these loom sounds from afar. With only hazy memories remaining—after facts had dissolved like dreams—they transformed into women eternally weaving in watery chasms.

Many people believe that Tanabata’s Qiqiao Festival is a direct copy of ancient Chinese traditions.
However, contrary to expectations, there remain many regions where ancient forms still persist.

Tanabata-tsume refers to a woman residing within the tana (Yukahadana) loom.
The Weaver Star of the Milky Way is none other than a Tanabata maiden.
The aspect of waiting for those who come but once a year is also perfectly mirrored.
Such coincidences must have profoundly delighted the poets of the Fujiwara and Nara periods—steeped in Chinese literature—as well as the waka poets who emerged from their ranks.
They took such pride in molding even their own real lives into the forms of pre-Tang dynasty novels that, in literary terms, they had already become thoroughly Sinicized.
From this perspective, the methods of Onmyōdō were not thoroughly implemented.
Therefore, no matter where one observes Tanabata festivals, their original forms can be discerned.

Yet there existed expedient reasons for people coming to believe that Tanabata dwelled in the Milky Way and that offerings were made on the night of celestial conjunction.
Even when examining the astonishingly numerous Tanabata poems in the Man'yōshū, many of them—while narrating celestial matters—expressed sensations derived directly from earthly scenery.
This could not be attributed solely to a lack of imagination.
In the spiritual life of ancient Japanese people, there had existed principles that transcended time and space.
It was the belief in the power of incantations to return to the primordial beginning.
I touched upon this matter in the Fujiwara section as well.
Ama no Kaguyama was considered to exist in at least two locations on earth.
Hinu no Manai appeared equated with celestial counterparts, while Ama no Sada and Nagata had been transferred to the earthly realm.
Yamato’s Takachi was undoubtedly related to Amano Takachi, and Ōmi’s Yasugawa to Amano Yasugawa.
Amano Futagami distributed Futagamiyama mountains throughout every corner of the earth (this could conversely be viewed as earthly mountains being elevated to the celestial realm).
This pre-logical emotional reasoning left vestiges of temporal and geographical dislocation persisting into later ages.

Among names that appear to personify the spirits of Yukahadana platforms was Amano Yukahadana, who was said to have discovered numerous purification watergates while pursuing white swans. This was possible because people revered earthly ritual rivers as sacred and could conceive of them as celestial counterparts. Through such customs, they began prefixing "ama" (heavenly) to express sacredness.

XIII. Women Holding Reed Weaving Tools

Since they could project visions of the celestial realm onto earthly ritual rivers, they felt no incongruity in conflating Amano Yasugawa and Ama no Kawa—which corresponded to the Milky Way—with their terrestrial counterparts. The Tanabata-tsume were also conceived as serving sacred offices in the heavens. Thus came expressions like: “O celestial one, Ototo Tanabata...” When one could envision the celestial Tanabata-tsume, they became syncretized with the Weaver Star that perfectly matched them, while harmony born of errors could also readily emerge.

Given that we speak of Ototo Tanabata, there were also instances where they presented two or more divine water maidens.
The fact that Ōhirume oversaw Wakahirume serving at the celestial Imi-Hadono Hall demonstrates that even the highest-ranking shrine maidens wove the deity’s sacred garments with their own hands.

In ancient times, there were many noblewomen’s names that appeared to be honorific appellations related to looms.
Taking two or three examples, the Empress Consort of Oshihomimi no Mikoto was called Takuhata Chihata Hime (or Takuhata Chichi Hime).
The noblewoman—likely a water-related figure as previously mentioned, being the daughter of Ōkuni Fuchi and summoned by Emperor Suinin—is called Karihata Tobe (the inclusion of Kamuhatatobe was an error) and Oto-Karihata Tobe.
Kusaka Hatahi Hime appeared as the Empress Consort of Emperor Yūryaku.

The “tarashi” in Empress Jingū’s full name Okinaga-tarashihime—for which the *Kojiki* assigns the character for “obi” (帯)—may indeed be accurate.

Ah, the heavenly loom!
“Medori’s great sovereign’s weaving loom.
Who could have foreseen?”

When one combines and writes down the accounts from the Kojiki and Nihon Shoki, they take this form.
In ancient times, princesses and queens all held the sacred duties of divine maidens.
This poem traditionally attributed to Emperor Nintoku as well conveys the figure of a rare visitor coming to the hall where divine maidens wove cloth with their own hands as shrine maidens.
They regarded the loom as a sacred object of the shrine and referred to it as “heaven.”
In other words, the act of maidens working in the loom house also served to signify their awaiting of husband-like rare visitors.

The Heavenly Grandson inquired again: “Upon those towering crests of waves stands an eight-hall where a maiden weaves with swaying hand-shuttles—whose daughter is she?”

They answered: “The daughters of Ōyamatsumi no Kami—the elder is called Iwanaga Hime, the younger Konohanasakuyahime.”…(Nihon Shoki, variant text)

This narrated in detail the lives of elder and younger Tanabata maidens—weavers of divine garments—who spanned their looms across coastal purification waters. When discussing Tanba Michinushi no Ō’s eight maidens, I had noted how Ihanaga Hime’s curse demonstrated her function as a “water woman.” For Konohanasakuyahime too, examination of Susanoo’s lineage in the Kojiki revealed corroborating evidence. The text records that Yasimajinumi no Kami—child of Susanoo no Mikoto—wed Konohanachiruhime, daughter of Ōyamatsumi no Kami. This lineage consisted entirely of water-related deities. I therefore concluded that Konohanachiruhime too proved to be a divine maiden nearly identical in character to Konohanasakuyahime, sharing profound ties to purification rites.

XIV. The Word *Tana*

I believed I had now roughly outlined the contours of the Tanabata maidens prior to Sino-Japanese syncretism. However, the date of July 7th came under the dominion of the Star Festival. In truth, what they described as “where summer and autumn meet—the faint glow of early rice”—appeared to have been a convergence festival conducted at the seasonal crossroads.

In early spring festivals, the distant deity who once visited only once came to make frequent appearances. This was also due to the intermingling of the resident Han Chinese people’s indistinct Taoist-style traditions. This was also why the convergence festival came to be regarded with such importance. It could be surmised that this shared the same significance as the Chinka-sai conducted at the convergence of spring and summer, and that rituals for expelling malevolent forces had emerged prior to the Nara period. Regarding the Chinka-sai, I would have another occasion to discuss it. However, by considering the timing of cherry blossoms’ scattering—whether early or late—as an omen for rice flowering and harvest, they attempted to delay them as much as possible; yet this significance transformed into being regarded as a means to prevent insects from infesting the rice paddies. At the same time, they believed that agriculture progressed in tandem with the villagers’ health and happiness. Therefore, the epidemics that came upon the villagers along with the rice pests in the fields became things that must be driven out. The ritual of Haru-tauchi in spring festivals—repetitive in nature—gradually came to take on the form of an epidemic deity sending-off.

XV. Summer Festivals

When breaking down the components of the Tanabata Festival, we found it encompassed events ranging from the Flower Festival on the Eighth Day of Uzuki immediately following the Chinka-sai, through the Tango no Sekku and rice planting in May—even incorporating both the Goryō and Gion festivals along with summer Kagura performances—ultimately spanning all the way to the Ōharae and Obon observances.
It was a festival that served as a comprehensive summation of summer rituals.

As Mr. Yanagita pointed out, the Flower Festival around the eighth day of Uzuki had in fact been the mountain retreat day for village women.
In ancient times, this was likely a day when they retreated into the mountains to receive the rites of womanhood—a sacred qualification.
When society came to center on field crops, the most crucial duty of the village's divine maidens came to be considered as residing in the May rice planting.
Therefore, they adopted a form resembling mountain retreats for rice planting.
Through this process, the divine maidens who would become this year’s early maidens were determined.
Men too generally entered their period of ritual abstinence around the same time.
Those seeking to receive the adult precepts that year had to do so naturally, and those already initiated likewise had to undergo prolonged periods of abstinence.
Because it coincided with seasonal rains requiring disciplined conduct, they called it both *nagame imi* and *ame zuzumi*.
Later, it came to refer to continuous rainy seclusion regardless of timing.

The indicator that one had entered this nagame imi was the head of a court noble family performing rituals such as binding with the water cord and affixing objects related to the Heavenly Feather Robe. In later periods, this came to be routinely performed—though only until the rice planting began—and once the seedlings were taken out, the cord of ritual abstinence would be removed, completely permitting conduct befitting a deity. The cord served as tethers and bonds—both read as fumodashi—that fulfilled the role described in the song “Upon the horse, indeed, do tethers conceal themselves” throughout the nagame imi period of prolonged rain abstinence. Among these young gods, there existed a central deity. Bringing along these attendants, they would stay until the rice planting concluded, entertain them with the sanaburi festival, and then return. These procession gods all wore straw raincoats and hid their faces under sedge hats. In other words, it was the form of an oni as conceived in ancient times.