Pathway to Japanese Literature

Author: Orikuchi Shinobu

The traditional etymological theory holds that from the meaning of "a person who comes rarely," people began calling rare guests *marebito*, with phonetic shifts resulting in forms like *mara-hito* and *maraudo* being considered through this lens.
When viewed through an early modern perspective, this interpretation could be deemed appropriate.
However, ancient people's actual usage examples cannot be properly understood without expanding this etymology's implications.

Why would birds said to come from the Land of Eternity be called "wild geese divine visitors"?
This cannot be dismissed as mere metaphorical anthropomorphism.
We must recognize that this folk tradition of labeling beings from the Land of Eternity as divine visitors extended even to migratory birds like wild geese.

In the social life of antiquity, there were many things that could not be analogized from our contemporary existence.
Even when we examine songs like *Waihenha* or banquet chants such as *Tama Shikamashi o*, we evaluate them through the lens of Meiji and Taisho-era social norms.
The act of visiting from those of higher social classes to those of lower status—once perceived as wondrous but now diminished in modern times—belonged to an era distinct from our own.
The fact that visits by nobles became a means to express trust and special favor toward subordinates and household members upon entering the samurai era—rather than having changed into a form of entertainment to distract from the weariness of daily life—belonged to an even older age.
The matter of the emperor visiting subjects’ homes was an expansion of the meaning behind court pilgrimages, and even such visits were not something to be frequently conducted.
Even when unofficial, visits by the imperial family had to be conducted with utmost reverence.
The more ancient the era, the closer rulers and people appeared to have been, yet there were constraints in such aspects.

If one interprets myths of the Cupid and Psyche type—corresponding to our Miwa Mountain divine marriage tales—based on our country’s folk traditions, it can be said that the courtship methods of those close to divinity constitute one element.

The fact that even Edo-period scholars—when the usage examples of the term *mare* had not yet slackened to today’s degree—viewed *marebito* merely as rare guests and perceived them as a form of exaggerated embellishment is what has dulled modern people’s linguistic sensibilities.

The term *mare* does not merely signify preciousness and nobility, but rather denotes scarcity in both quantity and temporal occurrence.
“Sole” and “solitude” appear to fall into this category of usage examples.
When viewing expressions such as “waiting for someone who comes but rarely in a year,” the usage of *marebito* appears to have slackened; yet within the concept of “annual rarity,” one still discerns a reverence for that particular scarcity—a rarity modern people would not readily conceive.

The author himself—who prided himself on being something of a frivolous sort—nonetheless revealed a folkloric mode of thought regarding “rare annual visitations” amidst his clever repartee; this could only be attributed to the power of ethnic memory. Even as they shared the same romantic essence, the *Waihen* aspect remained a fantasy. The exaggeration and fabrication welcomed in folk songs—alongside artlessness and sexual desire enveloped within them—gave voice to a confident expectation. This must have been because, nurtured by stories, they had come to believe such things could occasionally come to pass. The usage example that perfectly fit “divine visitor” had to be this son-in-law acquired through such means. I consider this too to be a variation of the mindset of awaiting the “marebito” in its original sense.

We who cannot await the rare annual visitor tend to dismiss "In both garden and dwelling, let us spread jewels" as mere flattery.
This was no exaggeration.
Nor was it an imitation of Chinese style.
It was merely that they shifted their way of thinking about the ancient "divine visitors" to rare guests in their descendants' generation.

What is a divine visitor?
It is a deity.
It is a great deity that comes to visit at fixed times.
It is the deity that people of those villages believed in—one who comes from the great sky or beyond the sea to bring specifically to a certain village wealth, longevity, and several other blessings.
This deity was not mere fantasy.
Ancient people heard house doors pressed by the deity as divine visitation.
The reason the verb otozuru came to bear the meaning of visitation lies in how its original acoustic essence became exclusively associated with door sounds—I believe this derives from instances where deities announced their arrival through their distinctive rhythmic rapping upon doors.
It is from this folk life—steeped in deep faith and associations regarding door-knocking—that I am compelled to believe so.
Even within the court, the fact that deities would descend and knock on gates was repeated annually.

The eternal abode of the deities was regarded in the vast sky as Takamagahara; villagers who conceived it as beyond the sea named it the Land of Eternity.

Takamagahara was considered the heavenly sanctuary where divine descent had been performed only once, as Ninigi-no-Mikoto—the ancestral deity of the court—departed from there and relocated to this land.
However, this interpretation constituted a rationalized historical explanation born from contradictions between faith-based realities and their ossified elements.

It explains both the primordial connection to Takamagahara maintained by the exclusive professional group called Gotonoo responsible for court rituals, and how the court's ancestral deity also descended at this time, with communication between heaven and earth being largely severed.
Yet regarding unfixed aspects, people continued believing until later generations that divine descent occurred anew with each successive emperor.
This was why the term "Child of the Sun" existed.
Nevertheless, in their efforts to align with rationalized history, interpreters paid no heed even when "Child of the Sun" and "Sumemima-no-Mikoto" appeared together within a single passage.
One might say that by the Nara period, society had become sufficiently rationalized to bifurcate reality—accepting historical circumstances as credible while maintaining belief in successive emperors' divine descents and ascensions as a separate category of truth.

If one relies solely on the Kojiki, Nihon Shoki, and Manyoshu, then the successive manifestations of the Child of the Sun could be called an absolute expression of reverence born from history. When examining ancient faith through norito incantations, we must recognize that what was previously considered a rationalized view becomes secondary, while the latter interpretation proves correct. (For details, I wish to defer to the discussion section of "Akitsu Kami.")

Thus, by enshrining Ninigi-no-Mikoto's heavenly descent as a singular historical event, Takamagahara became transformed into a sacred site within historical records—one disconnected from the lived realities of successive generations. Though many villages likely continued regarding the vast sky as divine abode, after standardized terminology became fixed, the documents preserved for us show "the Land of Eternity" increasingly being perceived as the dwelling place of deities governing village destinies.

In Fujiwara-kyō, some people were already beginning to attribute the concept of immortal mountains to Tokoyo.
This was the influence of Daoism, brought by naturalized immigrants and beginning to take concrete form.
And yet, the pure form remained even after years passed.
When Ōtomo no Sakanoe no Iratsume admonished a girl lamenting their parting with the words "I shall not go even to eternal night," this expression—while bearing terminology from later eras—appears not to have forgotten its primordial meaning.

Among three interpretations, Motoori viewed those referring to the underworld/Yomi and incorporated them into his explanation of the Land of Eternal Darkness.
These interpretations could also signify "the land beyond the sea," making reliance solely on the literal meaning of "eternal night" untenable.
However, the set phrase "journey to Tokoyo"—likely repeated unthinkingly by the *kataribe*—undoubtedly described a state of perpetual darkness.
This "eternal night" was not considered an actual land's name, though its etymological root remained discernible.
Thus it became evident that in ancient times, the Land of Eternity had not been exclusively conceived as an ideal realm.

*Toko* serves as the etymological root conveying absoluteness, holding in both spatial and temporal dimensions the meaning of "limitlessly."
Eternal night is not merely perpetual darkness—it is absolute darkness.

In the islands of Okinawa Prefecture—which maintained an extremely deep connection to the main body of our ancestors and preserved many songs retaining those ancient customs—they called heaven *obotsukagura*. They referred to the blessed land beyond the sea as *nirai-kinai* (also pronounced *girai-kinai* or *jirai-kinai*) and alternatively named it Mayanokuni. Here too, while *obotsukagura* had lost its connection to folk life, *nirai-kinai* remained in common use—though this Girai-kinai also revealed aspects of being a land of calamity. Fleas were said to come regularly from *nirai-kinai*, poling wheat-stalk boats with wheat-stalk oars to reach this land.

In Ishigaki of Yaeyama within the Sakishima Islands and their outlying isles—where they used the dialect form *niiru* (or *niiru* bottom) of the same term—they regarded it as such a fearsome place that they explained its etymology through association with “Nara.” They believed it connected to a subterranean world through caves—from which emerged two demonic giants called “Niiru people” tasked with conducting coming-of-age rites. Villagers both feared and revered them as gods, performing ascetic practices exactly as commanded while these beings appeared before gathered crowds to dance themselves and make new youths dance too.

In other villages at farming season’s start, Mayanokami would cross over to visit households, circulating words to uplift families’ spirits regarding that year’s agriculture and other matters. Beyond these deities existed villages where ancestral spirits serving as household gods emerged during Obon—called Angamaa—with male and female ancestors (termed grandfathers and grandmothers) visiting invited homes accompanied by retinues to play instruments and display arts while adult figures periodically rose to impart teachings or reprimand past failings.

These three varieties of Eternal Land divine visitors coexisted within a single Ishigaki Island.

It was the unaltered form of an era when the attributes of the gods had not yet been purified.
Angamaa’s etymology remained unclear, but judging from similar cases, it was likely a place name of religious significance.
The place from which these people emerged was not an ideal land.
It was a type of deity that bore both the responsibility and authority for bestowing blessings and administering punishments, arriving from beyond the realm of human habitation. The Niiru people operated under the same principle—organizing the village's core youths and, grounded in a shared belief system, endeavoring to preserve the old village life in its original form through the hands of new generations.
They too were not mere beings—neither fully gods nor demons—who calculated only what was convenient for humans.
That land did not appear to have been a beloved sacred place harboring half-hearted calamities akin to a realm from which fleas came.

The concept of ships ridden by fleas originated from the same ideological source as the archaic form of New Year's treasure ships and Oshu's Nebuta festival.
They intended to banish bed pests and drowsiness that hindered farmers' sedentary work (—though I think in ancient times, this was likely a charm to avoid disasters by sleeping soundly through the night—) by setting them adrift on boats to be expelled beyond the sea.
Therefore, though it stood in exact opposition to Okinawa, the initial conception was that beyond the sea lay a realm of beings who were both gods and demons.
Even in our country, the term "spirit world" did not merely signify a dwelling place of gods.
It also contained the meaning of a world of demons.
The natures of those existing in the spirit world shared many common traits.
The most striking point was that both gods and demons belonged to the nocturnal world, alternating with the manifest realm at cockcrow.
The relationship between demons frequently appearing in folktales and cockcrow was of course well-established, but even in the festivals of noble deities, the central rites were invariably set before midnight cockcrow.
From this we could see that even in the attributes of our country’s deities, they had preserved unexpectedly ancient elements, to the extent that even in sun deity festivals, they had to perform the ritual dismissal of the deity by dawn.

In ancient times, they perceived gods as containing far more fearsome elements, but the gods arriving from beyond the sea—distinct from local nature spirits—were not merely received through propitiatory rites as vengeful deities, but were also welcomed as entities harboring goodwill toward the villagers.
Therefore, the conception of benevolent deities among the gods did not originate from resident local deities who permanently dwell in a place, but rather should be understood as beginning with those deities who periodically arrived anew at appointed times.
However, it appeared that the gods coming from the divine land beyond the sea were not necessarily fixed at one deity per village.
Yet generally, each village had its fixed "Tokoyo deity" as either a single entity or a group.
The faith of the villages was "Tokoyo deities".
When they came to consider what should be regarded as a principal deity for the gods of the vast sky—in court terminology, Takamagahara—they gradually came to ascribe ethical qualities to this principal deity.
However, even such gods could become angered and inflict curses.
It could not be said that the Tokoyo deities became the gods of local shrines in various regions in later periods.
The attributes of the gods were indeed enhanced.
Moreover, the notion that deities did not permanently reside in their shrines was powerfully extended even to the shrines of local nature deities. Nevertheless, the clear fact that they could not be permanently enshrined in one place or temporarily summoned down constituted one reason why such deities were surprisingly absent from shrine worship—though other reasons also existed.

Through voluntary rituals conducted by all villagers, youths forming the village's core who jointly served as priests saw those with superior qualities develop religious consciousness. Among these shrine officials, one individual permanently occupied a senior position that never changed throughout their lifetime. As this specialization progressed, they began receiving revelations from various deities beyond those who periodically crossed over from the Eternal Land. This constituted the first reason. When such awakened individuals established a deity whose will could be perpetually consulted, they came to instruct village life principles through its divine power. This assumed sovereign status in villages of eras beyond our imagination. When this occurred, that deity likely differed significantly from the Tokoyo deity collectively awaited by the villagers. This formed the second reason. As society advanced, youthful communal priests grew less reverent toward deities familiar to them. Gradually comprehending these gods' mysteries while maintaining awe, they naturally inclined toward newer deities whose profundity remained unknown when such emerged. When new gods appeared, this deity's festival lost its primary position. This was the third reason.

The concept of Mayanokuni manifested through Mayanokami—previously discussed regarding Ishigaki Island—had acquired significance as an ideal land.
These Mayanokami rituals were performed by young men.
Youths who had undergone coming-of-age ceremonies would don straw rain hats under strict secrecy, conceal their faces with fan palm leaves, and visit each household while imitating divine voices and mannerisms.
They were enacting deities that had crossed over from beyond the sea.
Though villagers broadly understood this secret, they could still enter sacred exaltation—utterly devoid of playfulness—sharing the solemn disposition of youths disguised as Mayanokami.
Yet as solemn mystical constraints gradually weakened over time, the ritual's meaning faded into mere annual custom—reduced to walking about mimicking door-knocking sounds with chants of “hoto-hoto.”
The New Year’s Eve visitation ritual—where they went door-to-door as described in *The Essays in Idleness*’ seasonal section noting “this was still practiced in the east” after being abandoned in the capital—persisted even now across rural regions.
This was something Professor Yanagita Kunio had already documented.

The Land of Eternity, in conventional usage within our records, was not the Land of Eternal Night.
It had been a realm of radiant prosperity and agelessness.
When the Nara period commenced, people gradually forgot its status as an object of worship and began regarding it as a tangible geographical entity within our nation, fostering a tendency to designate specific locations [as Tokoyo] and boast of their authenticity.
The identification of Hitachi province as the Land of Eternity stands as one such example.
From their perspective, conceptualizing Eternal Land beyond the seas had been entirely natural.
The southern Chinese region where Tajimamori was said to have journeyed to retrieve the tokijiku no kagunokonomi fruit precisely corresponded to such a bountiful land where these fruits flourished.
Yet even these ostensibly historical accounts retain traces of folkloric essence.
That Tajimamori—dispatched by Emperor Suinin's decree—returned only to find his awaited sovereign already deceased presents no logical inconsistency when understood as manifesting global folktale patterns born from otherworldly concepts rooted in differing temporal standards between Tokoyo and our mortal realm.
The destination of Urashimako's voyage too had been the Land of Eternity.
This demonstrates a remarkable temporal divergence.
Yet in their fundamental nature as realms beyond the sea, they remained unified.
This narrative appears to have coalesced by the twilight years of the Asuka capital, yet it had already merged Watatsumi's Palace with Tokoyo.
Their failure to distinguish between seabed and distant oceanic expanse likely stemmed from perceiving both as components of an idealized realm embodying prosperity and longevity.

The further idealization of Tokoyo was thought to have begun around the time of the Fujiwara Capital.
The realm envisioned by Daoist adherents was a land of immortality and eternal prosperity.
Moreover, in popular Daoism transmitted from China, there were many that preached the immortal realm as a Pure Land of romantic love.
In our country's land within the sea, there existed the myth of Howori-no-Mikoto connected to romantic love.
What made this differ from Urashimako’s folktale despite their striking resemblance was that there existed no discrepancy in the concept of time between these two lands.
One might consider whether there existed an era when what was called Tokoyo-no-Kuni—that land beyond the sea—did not yet encompass Watatsumi-no-Kuni.
However, in terms of wealth, it possessed characteristics greatly resembling the Eternal Land.
In aspects such as the royal palace layered with sea lion pelts, a sense of yearning faintly revealed itself.
That one would heave a great sigh while dwelling in the Land of Pleasure—a pattern also seen in Urashimako’s tale—must have drawn envious derision from the Manyōshū poets who believed in its reality: “Ah, this man!”
When Howori-no-Mikoto was about to return, the sea deity taught him this incantation: “With this hook—obochi, susuchi, majiji, uruchi.” Here, *obo* derived from roots meaning “vagueness” and “stifled gloom,” so what this hook lifted up was thought to signify “something indistinct.”
Since *uru* derived from roots meaning “foolishness,” the theory that this hook extracted dullness held true.
Since the maji in majiji derived from the root mazushi (poverty), as noted in the Nihongi’s main commentary, it could be explained as a hook that became the foundation of poverty.
(As for susu, my understanding remains incomplete) They taught him to imbue the hook with a curse that would cause all actions to go awry and bring about scarcity.
Because this was a land where there existed a king who bestowed incantations capable of imparting poverty upon people, one could also consider it a realm of wish-fulfilling wealth.
During the reign of Empress Kōgyoku, the incident where Hata no Kawakatsu punished what the people praised as “the Tokoyo deity—a god among gods” was in fact concerned with nothing more than mulberry tree insects.
This deity too appeared abruptly in Suruga, but it was likely still believed to have crossed over from beyond the sea.
Be that as it may, this was a deity who bestowed upon agriculture and sericulture the divine wealth inherent to the Tokoyo deity.

The term "yo" in ancient times was thought to have excluded grains or rice.
Later it came to refer specifically to rice ripening.
It appears more accurate to consider that the word "toshi"—originally meaning rice or grains—developed its temporal sense of "year," just as its synonym "yo" diverged into meanings like "age" and "era."
Furthermore, one morphological form of "yo" acquired connotations of "sexual desire" and "sexual relations."
This may stem from a distinct etymology, but I mention it here given apparent semantic connections.

There are abundant examples of *Tokoyo* being used in the sense of longevity.
In my view，while the conception of *Tokoyo* as a land of longevity may have been influenced by Daoism，beyond terminological examples referring to the *Land of Eternity*, there also exist instances where “tokoyo” directly denotes long-lived elders.
But there also exist expressions of praise such as describing someone who appears rejuvenated compared to when last seen as “one who must have resided in the *Land of Eternity.*”
Just because they appear in the ancient portions of *Kiki* does not mean they can be considered equally archaic.
Generally speaking，the tokoyo associated with long-lived individuals likely branched off after the meaning of the *Land of Eternity* became fixed as signifying an absolute age—that is to say，a lifespan of immortality.

If we advance one step further, while the conception of Tokoyo as a Pure Land of romantic love may bear Chinese folktale influences, its content incorporates preexisting narratives—stories of a goddess born from the folklorization of shrine maidens marrying humans—who lured an ordinary man who was merely fortunate.
Might it not be that through external elements bearing the term *yo* with its sexual connotations emerging, the integration of content aspects was achieved, leading them to conceive of a "land of eternal desire"?
I myself harbor some unease that I may have overextended the logic concerning this particular aspect of *yo* in its signification.
What can be considered as the history of the term "Eternal Land" alone is as outlined above.

The concept of the "Isle of Death" beyond the sea gradually became abstract and came to be considered as the spirit world—a realm of gods and spirits.
When this underwent further transformation, though retaining its initial impression in essence, people came to conceive it as a land embodying ancient humanity's ultimate ideals.
The foundation of this conception derived from impressions of water burials.
In our country too, traces could at least be seen among the Izumo people.
They envisioned a land beyond the sea where water-buried souls dwelled, with fear toward that realm shaping concepts like eternal night and Ne-no-Kuni.
Simultaneously, these spirits—terrifying yet expected to maintain enduring familiarity—came to be perceived as bearers of divine grace.
Thus emotions toward these divine visitors were neither simple longing nor nostalgia.
At their core lay profound dread.
Here emerged Tokoyo-no-Kuni's dual nature—sometimes unified, at others bifurcated.
This constitutes the opposition between Tokoyo and Ne.
Following religious systematization, the Tokoyo deity—intrinsically tied to village life—faced gradual marginalization as its nature transformed through collective forgetting.
The term 'araebisu' appearing from late Heian times demonstrated both this deity's extreme transformation and nascent faith anticipating modern developments.
The so-called Ebisu deity—referred to as "Ebisu Saburō-dono"—was actually a heterodox appellation for Tokoyo-no-Kami.
Attributes of being a fearsome deity visiting rarely from foreign lands became attached to 'Ebisu,' originally denoting eastern peoples.
The erosion of Araebisu's 'wild' aspect into a perpetually smiling deity marked a return to Tokoyo-no-Kami's primordial state.
Deconstructing Ebisu worship reveals its essence.
It incorporates Hiruko and Sukunabikona elements alongside Ōkuninushi and Kotoshironushi traits—yet defies full explanation through these alone.
This stems from its nature as a 'marebito'—a deity warranting 'wild' epithets while transcending mere fishing god status.

In early modern commoners' lives, there were many instances where the New Year deity visiting each household at New Year's was called "Young Ebisu," and even while separately enshrining the New Year deity, there existed customs of welcoming "Young Ebisu" at dawn—this clearly demonstrated that these were alternative names for the Tokoyo deity.
Moreover, depending on the region, there were still places without shrine priests where the specific deity remained unknown; in such cases, when expressing reverence for an unnamed god based on ancient traditions, there appeared to be a custom of using “Ebisu” as a representative figure.
This too was a deity predating Japanese theology, demonstrating that it existed outside established lineages.

The conception of "Root Country and Bottom Country" in contrast to Tokoyo, and their subsequent identification with an underground realm, stemmed partly from changes in burial practices but primarily served to distinguish them from Tokoyo, occurring after Tokoyo had been purified and elevated to the heavens. The heavenly realm where the purified gods dwelled contained not a trace of spiritual impurity. There, the concept of the 'Isle of Death' left no impression. Regarding the sequence through which people came to conceptualize the heavenly realm, contrary to Professor Yanagita Kunio’s frequently proposed view—which posits the horizon’s beyond as the sky and interprets even deities arriving from the sea as having descended from heaven—I believe that the conceptualization of existence beyond the sea led to envisioning the direction of cloud-dwelling realms, that is to say, the land of heavenly skies. Naturally, this involved the influence of ethnic conceptions that regarded heaven as the gods’ permanent abode. Even so, only the "Children of the Sun" were able to possess the "Isle of Death" within Takamagahara.

In my view, while there may have been intermingling of ethnic groups possessing both Takamagahara and Tokoyo, it was primarily as a people who spread from the coast that they first conceived of Tokoyo, and it was this that led to the devising of Takamagahara.

The Eternal Land was a realm of wealth, longevity, and love, as well as the land of souls.
The ancestral souls of the people were considered to fill the Land of Eternity.
Therefore, their souls were believed to transform into birds, and at times to be carried by birds to this land.
This is the foundation of the worldwide archetype of the Swan Maiden and Swan Knight folktales.

Our ancestors perceived a kind of mystery in the migratory birds that arrived at appointed times.
The fact that they were large birds with distinctive coloring served to further strengthen this belief.
Among the large birds called "tazu," the pure white swan was particularly profoundly imbued with this significance.
Swans, ranging from the whooper swan to cranes and herons, were originally perceived as gods coming from the Eternal Land; this is why they came to be regarded as divine messengers much later.
However, among migratory birds, what particularly caught attention were the geese that came in large flocks.
The perception of geese as divine visitors from the Eternal Land was not merely a transient invention.
Therefore, there exist some accounts of swans bringing prosperity.
When they went to see the swan that had flown in as recorded in the Bungo Fudoki, it turned into rice cakes.
When they looked again, the taro turned into thousands of plants.
The Emperor praised this, and as it was declared to be a Celestial Auspicious Object and the Land’s Bountiful Grass, it came to be called Toyokuni.
There are quite a number of stories where swans and various things transform into each other.
The case where rice cakes turned into birds is found in the Bungo Fudoki and the Yamashiro Fudoki fragments.
According to the Miyako Island Old Records, the sweet dew jar turned into a white bird and soared through the sky.
This was the god of wealth; when the master observed ritual abstinence and waited, it is said that the Great Harvest Ship—that is, the Treasure Ship—came and arrived.
In Yaeyama as well, there are many instances of swans being revered as deities.
In mainland Japan, the tale of Yamato Takeru transforming into a white bird is relatively simple, whereas in the Konjaku Monogatari, a wife transforms into a bow and then further into a white bird.
This is probably because people believed there existed something that allowed free interaction between gods, humans, and objects.
Yet even when they became birds or humans, there remained no distinction in their designation as divine visitors; when one considers that their transformation into grasses signaling prosperity or rice cakes was understood as new wealth arriving from the Eternal Land, this interpretation becomes clear.

The term "plants of prosperity" could not be limited to rice alone, but this too appeared to have been considered something birds pecked and brought forth. Even when not being birds of Tokoyo, they likely thought larks reaching "heaven" bore blessings. Among birds bearing the "Tokoyo" designation, I now consider that those called "long-crying birds of Tokoyo" were characterized not as avian creatures with distinctive calls from across the sea, but rather as birds whose singing fully accompanied the gods' return to Tokoyo.

The primitive beliefs in village life were so tenacious that even as theology became organized, ethics systematized, and shrines established, there remained no region without some vestiges persisting alongside them.

The emotions directed toward the gods from Tokoyo were more appropriately described as those toward “people.”
Moreover, this might have been because they knew it was something done by “people.”
Our ancestors named these [beings] “divine visitors.”
In my consideration, “divine visitors” typically took the form of several costumed “gods” parading through the village; however, given that there were adult participants matching the number of households, it is believed that each home welcomed and hosted one for a night.
And thus, the virgin or housewife of that household would spend the night sharing waking and sleeping with the god as his staff substitute.
Due to the frequent dispelling of mystery arising from the demeanor of the costumed gods, the number of those becoming “gods” decreased, and the practice of lodging at each household likely ceased.
Therefore, all women in village life had to possess qualifications as shrine maidens.

The foremost qualification for shrine maidens was whether they could become 'wives of the god.' Village maidens were required to serve as brides of the god before being permitted to become human wives. In early late dynastic periods, the court lady system—whose establishment among commoners was prohibited—had been practiced by provincial clans since antiquity just as in the imperial court itself. The custom whereby powerful clans regarded as living gods could inspect all village maidens by virtue of their divine qualifications had persisted even into culturally advanced eras. The numerous Tokoyo deities had coalesced into a single god until eventually only one living god came to inspect maidens who served deities.Moreover,in islands and mountainous regions lacking great living gods,the chastity of maidens continued until recent times—as evidenced by lingering vestiges—to be first offered to Tokoyo deities.The right of first night may reasonably be considered to have persisted from the court lady era into modern times.There existed cases where this ritual marked one’s initiation into womanhood.The coming-of-age ceremony constituted a rite for attaining womanhood.Even at court this custom endured until mid-Heian times though only formally.

Just as the permanent appointment of gods became that of Shinto priests, shrine maidens too were largely made permanent appointments, and the first night custom transformed into mere tradition.
Thus, the chastity of shrine maidens—virgins—came to be strictly enforced against any human other than gods or living deities.
Thus, "human wives" and "brides of the god" became entirely separate persons.
In societies prior to the emergence of such customs, it can be surmised that the practice of "one-night unions" with Tokoyo deities was observed.
That which became concentrated in one or several elders and lords was the right of the first night.

The custom of the Tokoyo deities making their annual visitation—coming but once a year—was no longer maintained.
When the circumstances of villages or households grew complex and instances of special cases increased, a custom emerged to request divine visitations on an ad hoc basis.
The most ancient times traceable through our country’s literature are already an era that had entered into this state of faith.
The first case was when construction was completed.
The second case, in my conjecture, was when they desired to stabilize the lives of the household’s prominent members.
Besides this, it appears there were many instances where they entreated for divine visitations in specific individual cases, dreading that the efficacy of the words solemnly pledged by the god at the year’s commencement might wane.

At least by the Nara period, what had already been forgotten was the origin of the detailed rites comprising the new chamber celebration.
What should have fundamentally been a "new chamber" celebration came to be annually repeated by the court under the name Ōtono-sai.
The norito incantations they recited would be more appropriately termed shinshitsu hogahi—new chamber purification.
Though fraught with interpretive challenges, this Ōtono-sai ritual saw participants—after nightfall—emulate divine processions by visiting what might be considered the court's customary western gate.
This divine entourage would circle solely through palace buildings regularly used by the emperor—the court's sovereign.
That this rite came to precede both Shin'konjiki and Niiname-sai reveals its ancient performance during harvest festivals.
While appearing subsidiary to later rituals venerating Toshigami—the deified Field Deity born of divine role specialization—it fundamentally concerned welcoming Tokoyo deities rather than worshiping agricultural spirits.
This stems from how Ōtono-sai intertwined shinshitsu hogahi—auspicious invocations for household longevity—with harvest celebrations.
Though conducted alongside Niiname-sai offerings dedicated specifically to field deities, their separation persisted from belief that Tokoyo deities—as Niiname's honored guests—received gratitude while pledging life and dwelling stability through hospitality rites.
Life and architecture represented domains most profoundly reliant on Tokoyo deities' incantatory power.
In essence, Ōtono-sai constituted merely an ancillary manifestation of Niiname-sai.
The deity receiving Niiname offerings thereby demonstrates how from its primordial foundations, this faith never centered on field deities.

Rituals similar to the Ōtono-sai—annual ceremonies centered on households where auspicious words were recited—were likely not limited to the court alone.
However, even as a variation of shinshitsu hogahi, they remained identical in entrusting the sequence of events to the Eternal Land's divine visitors.
As discussed in this volume, while they likely did not disclose the most mystical among the court's incantations and auspicious words, only two had been transmitted: the shinshitsu hogahi incantation and the life rituals of clan chiefs closely associated with it.
Yet in the shinshitsu hogahi ritual, when a household received a main guest attending alongside its master, a respected family member was invariably welcomed.
That person would then recite an incantation to bless the new chamber while treading through the house.
Additionally, the household's maiden or matron serving as dancers performed an elaborately adorned dance to pacify the space.
Afterward, the main guest became a one-night spouse with the dancer.
These essential points alone could be inferred.
Why maidens were seated as main guests—this had likely already surpassed understanding even during the zenith of the early dynastic period.

From the late Heian period through the mid-samurai era, one of the most important rituals performed by Yin-Yang masters was Hempei.
This dance-like protocol conducted during noble outings was called "fumu."
It constituted a brief dance emphasizing leisurely rhythmic footwork.
Within our customs that bore few similarities to Chinese folk traditions, these practices stood as virtually unparalleled instances.
Theories tracing origins to Fan Ba—which formed the sole basis for external influence claims—ultimately failed to capture their essence.
Though similar customs might exist beyond written records, I believe this was an adoption of indigenous folk traditions by both the Abe and Kamo families.
They performed treading not only when departing but also at destinations.
They continued treading even upon returning home.
This had come to be perceived as a form of demon exorcism.
While appearing rooted in beliefs about preemptively repelling evil spirits from attaching to one's person, this ritual served not for journeys but for establishing residence.
The practice originated from convictions that evil spirits vacated tread-performed sites—yet conducting it at destinations represented the rarer, more archaic form.
As this became formalized, treading during departures gained recognition for preventing malevolent energies from being carried back en route.

In ground that had been trodden firm by the god’s feet, evil spirits could not dwell there, nor could new ones come.
Thus when first inhabiting a new chamber, they would have the god tread it firm.
The reason phrases like “treading the new chamber to purify it” came to be used was likely because they came to recognize efficacy even in the dance performances of maiden dancers.
Performing a foot-stomping dance meant claiming a certain space.
It meant driving away invisible prior inhabitants.
Even today among descendants of the Tsuchimikado school’s incantation masters exist those who tread Hempei steps to perform spells expelling evil spirits from homes.
Hempei was a kind of Ōtono-sai ritual—likely a surviving vestige of Shinshitsu Hogahi.

Why were dignitaries invited when first inhabiting a new chamber?
This ancient custom originated from the practice of inviting individuals who possessed divine power to serve as village lords.
The documents remain silent on this matter, but we can infer that prior to this, one of the youths would have attended as a costumed deity.

In ancient life, people could welcome someone revered equally with divine visitors only during shinshitsu hogahi (new chamber purification). Through this ritual practice，the marebito distinctly came to possess human consciousness while shedding their divine identity。Households consequently maintained toward these humanized divine visitors the same reverential customs observed when they were worshipped as gods。This form persists even today。For receiving such guests，households were required to offer either their maiden or—if unavailable—their matron，who would then serve as the visitor’s spouse throughout his stay。To interpret capital officials’ seemingly unreasonable conduct toward provincial wives and daughters across dynastic history through provincial families’ supposed desire for noble lineage infusion constitutes reasoning backward from outcomes。Islands preserving these customs still exist。Viewing Naruto Chūjō’s dual traditions or Genji’s “River Lodging” chapter through later-era lenses of mere aristocratic privilege betrays fundamental misunderstanding。

The term "aruji" itself actually existed as a counterpart to the divine visitor; therefore, it did not simply mean an ordinary master.
Because one served as host by entertaining guests, it had been a mistake to interpret *kyōō* (ritual hospitality) as being abbreviated to *arujimauke* and further simplified to just *aruji*.
I believe it was likely a term that encompassed a broader scope—from the food offerings themselves to the one who presented them.
What became clearly understood was that this should be used exclusively when welcoming esteemed guests, being distinct from ordinary expressions such as "household head."
The "Venerable Minister" cited in annotations to the Mogi chapter was in fact a courtly rendering of "divine visitor," corresponding to what we now call an honored guest—though not carrying the simplistic meaning of being merely the most revered person present.
The proper form consisted not of selecting an honored guest from among banquet attendees, but of predetermining that venerable figure and holding a banquet specifically for them.
The fact that figures like the Left Minister were invited as honored guests to grand Ōkura banquets stood out prominently in the historical evolution of divine visitors.
This custom of inviting divine visitors for personal milestones also took on forms resembling ceremonies where new appointees were introduced by summoning senior figures within court life.
The elaborate dining protocols developed for the Left Minister during these occasions could also be understood as reflecting how the eating practices of costumed deities serving as divine visitors had become firmly established.

The Shimadai, which now appears only at modern wedding ceremonies—though derived from the Suhama and Hōraidai platforms once presented to honored guests—appears as mere banquet decorations.
However, formally they are objects placed in the room where the deity resides, and even today in rural areas, there are places where they are positioned beneath the annual altar.
In essence, it is a "constructed mountain" that indicates where the deity is invited to descend and dwell.
In formal samurai banquets, they would place this before the main guest and insert plant branches into other trays and dining stands.
All these ancient practices toward “divine visitors” became formalized.

In the early modern period, as visits by those of higher status to lower-class households became less unusual, the transformed archaic term 'maroudo' came to be understood increasingly divorced from its original tangible reality.
I never considered those who served as divine visitors to be mere ordinary humans.
One might indeed perceive this person as human.
This theory posits that people began referring to them as human upon recognizing Tokoyo-no-Kami's fundamentally human nature.
Yet I maintain that regardless of such shifts, the core ideology remains immutable.

The second case refers to when it was performed at seasonal transitions or when someone’s illness grew severe.
The connection between household incantations and blessings for the household head’s life demonstrates through yogoto literature something that existed long before recorded history.
These life incantations were conducted at court during New Year’s audiences, Ōtono-sai rituals, and in special circumstances at the initial Niiname-sai or Daijōsai ceremonies marking imperial accessions.
Through various associations, they became linked to concepts of offering longevity blessings for the Emperor.
Both clan leaders—powerful families serving as shrine priests—and those ranging from provincial governors to high-ranking court officials immersed in politics were all obliged to recite life incantations for the Emperor.
This practice had long been streamlined to have ministers recite on behalf of all officials, but given these incantations’ nature, all participants performed yogoto in their capacity as clan shrine priests.
Eventually, characters read as “gashōji” came to represent yogoto, such that mentions of “New Year” or “imperial audiences” evoked associations with yogoto—resulting in terms containing connotations later generations struggled to fully grasp.

Proceeding further with conjecture: when the heads of various powerful clans succeeded their positions, might they not have adopted the form of reciting the yogoto transmitted within their house—chanted during imperial audiences to receive sanction for holding their lands, retaining clan members, and inheriting family occupations? It was not solely the Izumo no Kuni no Miyatsuko who went up to the capital to recite the Kamuyogoto. Households continued both presenting their pedigrees of service in the court and demonstrating loyal devotion through praying for the current Emperor’s longevity until the policy of separating religious and governmental affairs led to the alteration of this custom. The Izumo no Kuni no Miyatsuko alone, having never lost their qualification as shrine priests, appeared to have developed what might be called a distinctive family tradition—unlike other families that established separate shrine priests and became detached from ritual affairs.

The fact that clan leaders of households recited yogoto indicated the source from which those households gained authority in village life. Could we not discern vestiges of life when the village lord—who served as shrine priest and could assume divine incarnation—existed in his earlier form as the Tokoyo-no-Kami? In this case, they did not recite the primary divine incantations. They recited phrases created to ensure the Emperor’s longevity and transmitted through households. Though notions of these being divine words mingled with faith in incantations, people likely understood they were largely man-made phrases. Moreover, those who recited them were certainly not acting as gods; they undoubtedly maintained awareness of presenting these to their lord as humans. Though the purpose remained identical, one must recognize their attitude had significantly transformed. Because incantations once chanted as divine words came to be uttered by humans, people inevitably grew to believe their textual style held mystical power.

The life incantations that once served as divine words had perished along with other primary incantations. However, as they were frequently performed alongside regularly conducted occupational incantations and architectural rituals—and because their essential nature as incantations employed metaphorical expressions—they had taken on disordered forms. Many not only indicated the household head’s longevity but simultaneously blessed the sturdiness of buildings. Furthermore, agricultural products and food became metaphors precisely because they had been incanted at the inception of livelihoods.

The incantations performed by the Tokoyo-no-Kami—many kept their secrets to the end and perished without ever being revealed to the world.