Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

In Japan there exist numerous ghost stories; however, most either derive from Buddhist concepts of karma or feature specters like foxes and raccoon dogs—truly independent demon-like narratives being scarce. Among these tales, that of the Demon King of Bingo Province stands apart through its peculiar nature; therefore I shall endeavor to recount it.

It is said to have occurred during the Kan'en era.

In Bingo Province's Mimasaka District, in Funo Village, there lived a young samurai named Inoue Heitaro. He had an adopted brother called Shinpachiro—who had been brought into the Inoue household before Heitaro's own birth to inherit the family—and a younger sibling named Katsuyoshi. However, due to Shinpachiro's frail health, both brothers had been taken back to Nakayama Genzaburo's household (Shinpachiro's birth family), leaving only one servant living there. Heitaro was sixteen years old at that time. Having trained for three years in martial arts under Yoshida Jiro, the domain's official instructor, and having developed considerable skill, people called him "Inoue's Little Tengu."

It was the time when the early summer rains fell. A dreary rain fell every day. One day, Heitaro seized a break in the rain and went to visit the neighboring house. The master of the neighboring house, Gonpachi, was formerly a sumo wrestler from Mitsunoi who had once served as a grand champion wrestler for the Kishu domain. However, by that time, he had retired to his hometown and was teaching sumo techniques to local youths. Although there was a considerable difference in age, Heitaro and Gonpachi got along remarkably well. After the two had engaged in open conversation on various topics, Gonpachi suddenly brought up the matter of the specters at Ookuma Mountain.

Ookuma Mountain was a jagged, rocky peak towering precipitously in the western part of Mimasaka District. About fifty chō up its slopes lay a place called the Thousand-Tatami Mat Area—said to be the ruins of Lord Wakasanokami Mikasaka's estate. And after proceeding another twenty chō or so, there stood a five-tiered pagoda known as Lord Mikasaka's Mound. Behind it grew what locals called the Tengu Cedar—a massive tree measuring seven or eight hiro in girth—its branches spreading over the mound like a canopy. “What do you say we try encountering one of those specters?” Gonpachi proposed. Heitaro’s eyes also sparkled with curiosity.

“Verily, I should like to encounter them.”

“Then let us two draw lots—whoever is chosen shall go investigate around Lord Mikasaka’s Mound.” “Agreed. At what hour do we depart?” “Tonight’s Hour of the Boar would serve well. Prepare yourself for immediate departure; once we draw lots, let the chosen one set forth.”

That was already evening. Heitaro first returned home, ate his evening meal, prepared even a raincoat and hat for immediate departure, checked the time, and went back to Gonpachi’s house—only to find that Gonpachi had also prepared his belongings and was waiting for Heitaro’s arrival. The two twisted paper into lots and drew them—the lot fell to Heitaro.

In the pitch-black darkness, rain fell steadily. Heitaro donned his raincoat and straw sandals and headed toward Ookuma Mountain, but it was as if blindfolded—he could see nothing. He kept stepping into rice paddies and trampling through thorns, making little progress on the path. This left even Heitaro utterly perplexed, but since turning back would brand him a coward, he pressed forward by feeling his way along with his feet. At last reaching Ookuma Mountain's base, he began ascending a precipitous stone path—though its difficulty dwarfed his earlier struggles among the fields. Yet Heitaro's mind—poised for spectral encounters at any moment—remained so tightly wound that he scarcely felt the physical strain. He climbed with measured composure, steadying his mind as best he could.

The stone-paved path gradually leveled out, leading to a flat area. Since he had finally reached the Thousand-Tatami Mat Area, Inoue Heitaro pressed onward while anticipating specters might appear, passing through the spot and ascending another similarly rugged stone path. Then he suddenly came upon what appeared to be a stone pagoda. Thinking it must be Lord Mikasaka's mound, he ran his hand over the pagoda. It was indeed a five-tiered pagoda. He recalled that behind the mound stood the Tengu Cedar. He once again moved past the mound at an angle, went toward the rear, and spread his hands to feel around. His fingertips came into cold contact with the large tree trunk......This is indeed the Tengu Cedar, he thought. He sat down at its base.

A light rain pattered down. He sat motionless in the darkness for nearly half an hour, quietly surveying his surroundings, but heard only the faint breeze whispering through the leaves—nothing struck him as unusual. When he finally resolved to return, the thought that he needed proof of his visit made him tear up some grass from his feet. Groping toward the pagoda, he tied the grass to its giboshi finial before adjusting his straw sandal cords and starting his descent.

When he descended to the flat area of the Thousand-Tatami Mat Area, he suddenly brushed past something suspicious. It certainly appeared to be the torso of some entity. Heitaro jolted and abruptly drew his sword to strike. The blade met resistance with a metallic clang. Heitaro swung his sword again. That too was blocked. And sparks scattered from the tip of the sword.

“Lord Heitaro—it’s Gonpachi,” came the familiar voice.

Heitaro drew back his sword but remained unpersuaded. "After dispatching you, this one grew uneasy and came to verify." Heitaro and Gonpachi sheathed their blades and stood shoulder to shoulder. The young samurai's expedition had proven utterly uneventful. They returned home through the ink-black night, their vigor drained like spent arrows.

II

The season of early summer rains had passed, and the world transformed into July's sweltering heat.

One evening, Heitaro and Gonpachi were heading toward Futasuji River to cool themselves. Having emerged onto the riverbank where sunset had just faded, they sat upon a large white stone and were talking when the mouse-gray clouds that until moments ago had been swelling and collapsing turbulently over Ookuma Mountain suddenly spread across the entire sky—in an instant taking on the appearance of an evening shower. Lightning flashed dazzlingly into their eyes as thunder began to roar. Following the thunder came rain like silver threads. Startled, the two ran back home through rain and thunderclaps alongside other coolness-seekers.

And so, the two parted at their gates and entered their respective homes, but they were drenched from head to toe as though they had swum back through the Mina River. Heitaro had my servant Rokusuke bring out a nightgown and put it on, but having run a distance of over half a ri and grown fatigued, he immediately entered the mosquito net and lay down. I hung my master’s soaked robe on the pole and then retreated to my own room.

As Inoue Heitaro was drifting off to sleep, the sound of my anguished moans reached his ears. He got up and went to my room; when he looked inside, I was lying on my back, flailing my limbs and struggling. “Hey—what’s wrong? What’s wrong?” he called out—whereupon I finally came to my senses and sat up, “Was it a dream? Just now, the Giant Monk Specter came rushing in, climbed on top of this humble servant, and pressed down so relentlessly that I couldn’t breathe.”

Having said that, he continued glancing around fearfully.

“You saw such a dream because you’re cowardly. Get a hold of yourself.” Inoue Heitaro scolded me and returned to his room intending sleep, but he had already awoken and could no longer sleep. Then a wind came and extinguished the Ariake lantern’s light. When he opened his eyes in the darkness, crimson flames blazed fiercely upon the veranda’s shoji screens. Startled, he leapt up to open the shoji screen, but it remained nailed fast—it wouldn’t open no matter how he tried. Having no choice, he kicked through the shoji screen and stepped onto the veranda, but outside where the storm shutters hung open, there was only pitch darkness with no trace of fire. As he stood there perplexed by the strangeness, his body stiffened until he couldn’t move. While growing increasingly bewildered, he let his gaze drift toward the front garden without truly looking. A giant monk specter stood imposingly there, eyes glaring fiercely. In an instant, the Giant Monk Specter slithered closer, extending its long arm to seize him by the collar. Startled, he tried wrenching free with all his might—and in that moment tumbled backward. His hand found the sword placed at his bedside. He drew it with a flash and struck at the Giant Monk Specter as he rose. The specter nimbly bent its back and slipped beneath the veranda. He jumped into the garden to peer under the veranda, but finding it too low to enter, thought to pierce through from above the tatami mats. Returning to his room revealed only floorboards—the mats were gone. Growing more alarmed still, he groped to light the lantern and saw all tatami mats stacked in the room’s corner.

At this time, Gonpachi had been dozing in bed, but hearing clamorous noises from Heitaro’s house, he thought something must have occurred and hurriedly rose to go to the neighboring gate. Just then, a girl of twelve or thirteen scurried out and was about to pass by when she suddenly leapt at Gonpachi’s throat and clamped both hands around his neck. Gonpachi fainted on the spot. After some time, he regained consciousness. Dawn approached as roosters crowed here and there. Suspecting something strange had occurred at Heitaro’s house too, Gonpachi hurried through the gate and called out at the entrance—but received no reply. As he opened the lattice gate there, circled around to the garden, and tried stepping up from the veranda, Heitaro—who had been standing dazedly with sword in hand—mistook him for a specter and slashed out.

“Lord Heitaro—it’s me! It’s me!” cried Gonpachi, which finally made Heitaro regain his senses.

III When morning came，my servant Rokusuke went about spreading word of the previous night’s specter incident，so it became the talk of the town that very day. Takeuchi Dengoro，Yokoi Sonsaku，and Morikawa Ippei—three men who had become Heitaro’s friends—came and declared that tonight they would keep vigil to witness the true form of the specters. Fatigued from the previous night，Heitaro entrusted them with keeping watch and went alone to sleep in a separate room.

The three men were vigorously debating their views on specters before the paper lantern.

“What nonsense! How could specters exist in this world? It’s utterly absurd,” argued some, while... “Well now, let’s observe this for future reference,” another remarked calmly. Meanwhile, the night deepened hour by hour. And then, the Hour of the Ox arrived. The three men grew weary of conversation and fell silent. Then someone— “Shall we have some tea?” suggested one of them.

In the corner of the room were placed tea utensils. When one of them rose to fetch a tea bowl, the bowl floated upward with a fluttering motion and began circling about the room. In the blink of an eye, the paper lantern too floated up and began moving through the chamber as though borne by unseen hands. The three men found themselves robbed of speech. The charcoal brazier followed suit, soaring toward the ceiling as ashes pattered down upon their heads. The men could endure no more and fled.

The strange tales of the Mugikura residence increasingly became the talk of the neighborhood.

Kawata Shigemon, who was Heitaro’s uncle, grew worried about leaving Heitaro alone and came to his house that day to declare he would take him to his own home. The bold Heitaro,

“Please, just let this be,” he said, refusing to comply.

When my servant Rokusuke learned of this, he came before Heitaro and,

“Though I have received your long-standing favor, it is truly inexcusable for this humble servant to make such a request, but I find myself utterly incapable of continuing my service. I beg you to grant me leave.”

With that, he insistently took his leave and departed.

Nakayama Genzushichi came to visit me; however, upon hearing I was no longer there, he lent me a servant called Hachizo who worked at his own household.

In front of the Mugikura residence, curiosity-seeking village men gathered day and night; therefore, the village officials posted a notice at its gate, declaring that this was interfering with agricultural work.

I. Whereas strange occurrences have transpired at the Mugikura residence on this occasion; and whereas rumors thereof have spread not only within this village but to neighboring districts, inciting crowds to gather day and night without cease; and whereas it has been reported that peasants neglect their farming duties on this account, with many women and children suffering fright; therefore, gatherings before said residence are hereby prohibited from this day forth, and this ordinance must be strictly observed.

Kan'en 2, July 6

Bingo Province, Mijo District, Funo Village Office

IV

Due to the rain that had begun falling in the evening, Shinpachiro—who had come to visit Heitaro—ended up remaining overnight, and the two lay together inside a single mosquito net talking of various matters.

The rain fell softly. The timid Shinpachiro conversed with Heitaro while feigning composure, though fear of specters gripped his heart. Whenever something rustled, his pulse quickened and he cast anxious glances toward the sound. Something thudded down from the lintel onto the mosquito net and began skittering about. Startled, Shinpachiro— “That’s… that’s…!” he stammered. “Likely specters’ work,” Heitaro said with an amused chuckle. “Best leave it be.”

When Shinpachiro looked closely, the object atop the mosquito net turned out to be the wooden clogs he had worn during the day. As he watched, they suddenly vanished. Just as he thought the specters wouldn’t appear anymore and tried to close his eyes, the sleeve of a hempen robe hanging on a pole beside the mosquito net flashed brightly. A severed head emerged from within it, looked at Shinpachiro, and smiled gently. Terrified, Shinpachiro burrowed into his futon and trembled until dawn. The next day, after seeing Shinpachiro off and spending the day there amusing himself, Heitaro returned in the evening to find five or six young stalwarts from the neighborhood had come,

“We have come intending to keep vigil tonight,” they said. Heitaro was inwardly amused, but “That’s most welcome,” he said. When bedtime arrived, he entrusted the watch to those young stalwarts and went to sleep in a separate room.

The young stalwarts, gathered around the charcoal brazier, were mocking their three comrades who had fled back home.

“Tea bowls and paper lanterns don’t float up by themselves. Even unseen, specters surround them and lift them—you need only seize those spots,” one explained with a know-it-all tone. As night deepened, the cold grew akin to October’s chill. The young stalwarts tugged at their collars and exchanged glances. Some began speaking as if struck by sudden recollection, but their voices resounded so eerily through every corner that they fell silent at once, uneasy.

Flames flared up inside the charcoal brazier and rapidly coalesced into a mass of fireballs. The young stalwarts were startled and leaped backward. The fireballs swirled upward only briefly before crashing down onto the tatami mats with a thunderous roar, causing everyone to lose their nerve; they scrambled into the garden and fled. Heitaro awoke to the commotion and went to check the room where the young stalwarts had been, only to find they had all fled, with an area of two shaku and four sun on the tatami mats slightly charred. Heitaro smiled faintly and returned to his own bed.

Shinpachiro fell ill again that night and could no longer rise from his pillow.

V

In a place called Yokoshinden lived a friend named Ueda Jidayu. On the thirteenth day of that month, Heitaro had some business to attend to and went to Jidayu’s residence, but while being treated to a meal and conversing, night fell, so he returned home.

A bright moon hung in the sky. Heitaro walked along, gazing up at the moon. Along the path flowed the Mifurikawa River. Heitaro was walking along the embankment of that river. The clear moonlight flowed into the river water, sparkling and swaying. The sound of the current breaking against the rapids roared ceaselessly, while the surroundings lay in utter stillness.

A voluptuous woman lay face down, her white shins exposed as she collapsed in the grass—and caught his eye. Heitaro, startled, drew near and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Hello? Hello?” The woman convulsed her shoulders. Heitaro continued calling out. “What has happened, miss? Miss...”

The woman raised her face and looked up fearfully. It was an oval, comely face.

“I am Inoue Heitaro—a samurai residing in Nunofu Village. Thou needst not worry over aught. What hath befallen thee?” The woman hurriedly straightened her sitting posture and, while adjusting the disarray of her garments, said bashfully: “I am one who has fled from the hands of villains and come from the foothills of the mountain upstream here.” “That is most unfortunate. What manner of person art thou, Wajo?”

The woman lowered her gaze and answered.

“I am from Yamakita,” the woman said tearfully, “but was separated from my parents in childhood and raised by my uncle and aunt. Recently, my uncle fell ill, leaving us unable to sustain ourselves daily. Wishing to repay their kindness, I resolved to sell myself into service. Yet knowing my dutiful uncle would forbid it if told, I secretly consulted an acquaintance. Then Kikuji—a man who frequents my uncle’s house—said there happened to be someone from Maruyama in Nagasaki seeking women to employ. Trusting his words, I slipped out this evening to meet this man at our agreed spot. He arrived first, so I followed him—only to be led deep into desolate mountains where he tried to make me his kept woman. Rather than submit to such a villain’s will even unto death, I fled here in desperation. But now I can walk no further from exhaustion—please help me!”

“That’s most unfortunate. However we cannot discuss matters thoroughly here at present. Let us settle this once we reach my house.” Heitaro returned to his home in Nunofu Village accompanied by the woman. His servant Hachizo widened his eyes and brought water in a foot basin. The woman—appearing deeply abashed—washed her feet with it and entered the sitting room. Heitaro entered a separate room intending to change clothes before questioning her further about her circumstances. When he returned to where she had been waiting, she was gone. He searched every corner of the room but found no trace. Even questioning his servant revealed nothing... “Another specter?” he realized with bitter amusement.

VI

Sakuhei was a hunter who frequented the Inoue residence. Having heard rumors of specters at the Mugikura residence, he went before Heitaro one day and said, "The Yakushi Buddha of Saigyo Temple is a deity of renowned spiritual efficacy. Should you borrow its sacred image and devoutly place your faith in it, it will drive away any manifestation." Heitaro, being troubled by the specters' mischief, assented: "In that case, shall I commend this one matter to you?"

By that time, evening had already fallen. Sakuhei left the Inoue residence bound for Saigyo Temple, but the sun had fully set along the way. Under ordinary circumstances there would have been moonlight, but clouds had gathered since dusk—not only darkening the path but transforming it into a narrow lane threading through bamboo thickets. As one who made his living hunting fierce beasts in midnight mountains, he normally paid no heed to night travel—yet even so found this bamboo-lined path dark and troublesome. As he trudged wearily forward, a paper lantern’s glow appeared ahead. Thinking to borrow flint-fire from whoever it was and fashion a pine torch, he approached—only to find Sogen Genzounojou, a samurai he’d grown familiar with of late.

“Oh! Is that you, Lord Sone?” From across the path, Sogen Genzounojou called out as well, alongside Sakuhei. “Sakuhei? Where are you off to now?” “I am currently on my way to Saigyo Temple for an errand.” “I see—you’d be in trouble without a light… Here, take this. I’ll find my way back blindfolded from here.”

Sakuhei initially declined, but as Genzounojou insisted, he finally borrowed the lantern and walked on. Upon emerging from the thicket path, a desolate pine grove came into view. When he had proceeded halfway through the grove—sensing something amiss while walking with eyes fixed on his feet—Sakuhei abruptly raised his gaze forward. Before him stood a giant monk over ten feet tall, eyes glaring fiercely. Sakuhei cried out and tried to flee, but his body stiffened immovably. He collapsed there and lost consciousness.

When Sakuhei came to his senses some time later, there were no more suspicious presences around him—the sky had cleared completely, and the moon was shining brightly down. Even so, he found himself unable to make his way toward Saigyo Temple anymore. He sat bolt upright and immediately ran back like a fleeing dog.

The next day, Sakuhei went to Genzounojou’s house, and when he saw Genzounojou’s face—fresh from waking and emerging— “Thank you for last night. As I encountered the Giant Monk Specter in the pine grove and abandoned the paper lantern I had humbly borrowed at that time, I shall now go and retrieve it. Please kindly wait a while.”

“What? Lending a lantern? That must be a mistake—I didn’t go out yesterday,” said Genzounojou with a puzzled look. Sakuhei stood frozen in disbelief. Inoue Heitaro had waited for Sakuhei until late into the night, but as there seemed no likelihood of his return, upon hearing the second watch bell, He probably won’t return tonight, he muttered to himself repeatedly, and as he stood up to head toward his bedding, someone tugged at his sleeve from behind. When he turned around in surprise, the woman from the previous night was sitting there with a gentle smile.

“You specter!” he spat, drawing his sword in a flash and striking. And like smoke, the woman vanished. Heitaro gave a bitter smile and sheathed his sword. When morning came, Sakuhei arrived and spoke of the lantern. Heitaro listened with a smile. Sakuhei immediately went to Saigyo Temple and successfully borrowed the intended sacred image. Heitaro hung it in the alcove, burned incense, and offered flowers. When night fell, he lit an oil lamp before it and sat quietly reciting sutras—whereupon the sacred image began fluttering out from its scroll mount to circle around the room. Heitaro watched it with a smile. After a while, the sacred image slipped back into its scroll mount like a book.

It happened that night. When Heitaro awoke within his bedding, severed heads were swarming nearby—they laughed at his face and rolled and tumbled about inside the mosquito net.

On yet another night, when Heitaro, intending to sleep, had locked the doors and returned to his chamber, a pregnant woman lay on her back in the center of the room, her features grotesquely distorted. Bold as he was, he sat down on the woman’s belly with a laugh. The belly swelled and burst with a sickening squelch, maggots teeming forth as a putrid stench filled the air.

Seven

Not only Sakuhei, but all of Inoue’s acquaintances wanted to find some way to drive away the specters. Mukai Jiroemon brought along a hunter renowned for his skill with cloven-hoof traps.

That hunter was a man called Juubei. He made Heitaro listen to tales of how he had captured—using his cloven-hoof traps—an ancient tanuki that once hurled the Great Prajnaparamita Sutra into the air at a certain temple, terrifying the head priest and worshippers alike, and an ancient cat that startled people by making a certain shrine appear as three barrels. Afterward, having thoroughly examined the room’s layout and the garden’s features, he set his hooved traps along the garden fence.

It was the eighteenth day. When night fell, Juubei entered the privy and peered through its small window toward the cloven-hoof traps, waiting for specters to come and be caught in them.

The twilight sky was thinly overcast, and one or two hazy stars shone forlornly.

The night gradually deepened. A cold wind blew as if caressing the back of his neck. Juubei pressed his cheek against the small window frame and stared into the darkness. Then came a creaking sound at the privy door, and a large log-like hand seized Juubei by the nape before hurling him outside. At the sound, Heitaro—thinking a specter had been caught in the hoof trap—lit a hand candle in one hand and gripped his sword in the other before stepping out into the garden, only to find Juubei collapsed unconscious by the fence. When he looked at the hoof trap, it remained exactly as Juubei had set it during the day.

“Hey, hey, what happened?”

When Heitaro placed his hands on Juubei’s shoulders and shook him, Juubei finally regained consciousness. “That’s no tanuki or fox—it’s a tengu! A tengu!” he said, his voice quivering.

Heitaro thought there was no other recourse but to entrust his fate to heaven and endure a battle against the specters through sheer perseverance. Thus, he refused all who offered to keep night watch and stood guard alone over the house with icy resolve.

It was a night of pouring rain. Shodaiyu, younger brother of Kageyama Shōzaemon, came to pay a visit. He had been Inoue Heitaro’s childhood companion since their bamboo-horse days. When formal greetings concluded, Shodaiyu lifted the sword at his waist and presented it before Heitaro: “This Bizen Osafune blade—my elder brother received it from our liege lord. No specter can withstand its sacred power. Let me keep vigil tonight. Should any appear, I’ll cut them down with one stroke and be done with it.”

Inoue Heitaro knew that Kageyama Shōzaemon had received the Bizen Osafune sword from his lord and had privately envied this fact. He gladly borrowed it to examine.

When midnight approached, both men grew weary of conversation and sat in silence. Then from the kitchen's direction came a woman's head tumbling forth. Shodaiyu saw it and suddenly drew the Bizen Osafune sword to strike. The head split in two before vanishing instantly. At that moment, the sword's peg snapped - the blade flew across to strike a pillar and broke in two. The two men paled with shock. "This has become disastrous," said Shodaiyu, casting a resentful look at the broken blade. "There remains no alternative - I shall die to apologize to my elder brother."

Having said this, he reached for his short sword. Heitaro stopped him.

“This error was committed by your lordship in seeking to rescue this unworthy one from hardship—my own ineptitude shares equal blame. When dawn breaks, I shall offer apologies to Lord Shōzaemon myself to ensure no disgrace falls upon you.” “Your kindness is appreciated, but a samurai cannot shift his own failings onto others…,” declared Shodaiyu as he seized a moment of Heitaro’s inattention, drew his short sword, and plunged it into his own abdomen.

Heitaro, startled, clung to his hand—but there was nothing more he could do. Even so, he firmly grasped both of Shodaiyu’s shoulders and,

“Lord Shodaiyu! Lord Shodaiyu!” he urged with all his strength—but whether the wound was too deep, he drew his last breath before his very eyes. The pitiable friend had died by sacrificing himself.

Heitaro sat before the corpse, lost in melancholy thought... If it were said he had killed his friend because of specters, he could never face society. Moreover, under these circumstances, there was no telling when he might lose his life to the specters. Since this body was fated for misfortune, he resolved to die together with the friend who had sacrificed himself for him—to make even the slightest amends. The night was already nearing dawn. He went to another room to write suicide notes addressed to his uncle and Shinpachiro, then returned before Shodaiyu's corpse, bared his torso, and positioned the dagger against his abdomen.

“Don’t be rash! Don’t be rash!” someone cried out as they came rushing in frantically. Heitaro halted his hand holding the dagger and looked up. It was Gonpachi, who had been bedridden with illness. “Why would you do this?” Gonpachi rebuked, seizing Heitaro’s wrist.

Heitaro calmly recounted that Shodaiyu had committed seppuku, “Since this is an atonement through seppuku, do not attempt to stop me,” he said, trying to shake off Gonpachi’s hand.

“...Then where is Lord Shodaiyu’s corpse?” Gonpachi demanded, still gripping Heitaro’s hand firmly as he looked around. “Behind you. I have slain my friend; I cannot go on living.” Gonpachi turned his head to look behind him. There was nothing to be seen there. “There’s nothing there!”

Inoue Heitaro seemed to awaken from a dream. His eyes reflected the interior of the room now fully in daylight. He dropped the dagger and surveyed the room. Neither Shodaiyu’s corpse nor the broken sword beneath the pillar could be seen. He smiled bitterly and looked at Gonpachi.

“That was a dangerously close call,” said Gonpachi, his eyes widening in astonishment.

VIII

The last day of July had come.

It was the night marking exactly one month since he had begun to be tormented by specters.

Heitaro sat alone before the paper lamp, pondering the events of the previous night. Reflecting on the folly of having nearly thrown away my life due to the persistent specters, I mocked myself and my very being. And then, when he came to his senses after a while and looked ahead, there stood a splendid samurai wearing formal attire with both swords at his side, standing composedly.

“You specter!” Heitaro exclaimed as he drew his sword and sprang to his feet, whereupon the samurai smiled serenely and retreated toward the wall behind him—then vanished as though seeping into its very structure.

Heitaro was at a loss. He stared toward the wall, his sword held at the ready.

“Though thou mayst strive to strike Us down, ’tis beyond thy power. This night We have come to impart words unto thee—sheathe thy blade and attend in silence,” spoke a voice from within the wall. Realizing this was beyond his ability to handle, Heitaro resignedly sheathed his sword as instructed and returned to his seat. Then, from within the wall, the samurai from earlier emerged hazily and sat before him.

“Now shall We declare Our name: We are no mere fox or raccoon-dog, but Yamabuki Gorozaemon—the Demon King who traverses all high mountains across Japan. For this past month, We have manifested strange forms in thy household because when We crossed paths with thee during the early summer rains upon thy ascent of Ookuma Mountain, We discerned in thy visage that disaster would befall thee this July. Thus did We come to forestall it—not to bring thee harm.” So saying, he drew a scroll from his breast. “This is the mystic art called the Blue Life Heart Sutra Technique, which saves the afflicted. We bestow it upon thee. Learn it well and rescue the sick.”

Heitaro shuffled forward on his knees and received the scroll into his hands. “It would be well for thee to read it here now,” said the Demon King. Heitaro opened the scroll as instructed and scanned the characters within. At that moment, the bell tolling the second watch rang out.

“Then We shall now depart for Kinkasan Mountain in Oshu. This marks Our final meeting with thee.” Having said this, the Demon King rose and exited toward the veranda.

Heitaro, reluctant to part, followed after him. In the front garden, a palanquin had been set down, and beside it, about fifty or sixty tengu-like grotesque figures could be seen under the light of the waning moon. When the Demon King descended into the garden, those grotesque figures all lowered their heads to the ground in unison and paid their respects. The Demon King settled comfortably into the palanquin. Then, a strange cloud descended from the sky, enveloping the palanquin and all the grotesque figures before gently soaring back into the heavens.

When September arrived and Shinpachiro passed away, Heitaro came to inherit the Inoue household and was granted a base stipend of five hundred koku. This Heitaro had occasionally visited the domain’s upper residence in Edo’s Kasumigaseki, so there were those who met and heard the story directly from him.