Pathway to Japanese Literature

Terms such as *hogu* and *hogafu* were already established in our country's documented era.
Therefore, even if one collects usage examples from that time and attempts to derive meanings applicable to them, those expressions are merely ones that became fixed through complete transformation and bear incomplete forms.
The slight variations seen in those usage examples appear to gradually converge toward their original meaning.

The divine will that upholds vows is expressed solely through 'ho'.
Moreover, even when vows are broken and society falls into disarray, I have previously discussed how 'ho' continues to manifest frequently as a means of divine expression.

In our literary waka, lyrics such as "ho ni izu" (emerging through divine signs), "ho ni arawaru" (manifesting through ho), and "ho ni agu" (raising ho) are endlessly repeated, yet their fundamental significance remains obscure. Scholars affect an air of having resolved these questions through interpretations like "excellence" or "ears of grain." However, when one considers this after explicating the etymology of the term *hogu*, I realize how strangely misguided previous interpretations had been. The phrase "ho ni agu" does include instances metaphorically linked to sails, but predominantly conveys suppressed love revealing itself through facial expressions or outward manifestations.

However, there were examples that could not be fully explained by such reasoning.
In ancient records:
"I emerge through the ho of hadasusuki—the deity residing in Ota no Akatafushi of Awaji District (Jingūki)."

In more recent examples,

An overgrown forest in the wilderness, its edge-shrine.
Behold—the god emerging through the ho of hadasusuki grass (Fukuro Wakashū, Book 16)

These examples could not be fully explained as mere external manifestations.
This suggested that the phrase "emerging through ho" inevitably contained forgotten transformations within its meaning.

What later generations could not comprehend was how gods suddenly manifested objects from the spirit realm before humans. In an apocryphal passage from the Harima Fudoki, Nihotsuhime no Mikoto declared that if one were to enshrine her, she would produce auspicious signs, proclaiming: "A land where the eight-span hiiragi spear finds no bottom. A land where maidens pluck their eyebrows." A land aglow with jewels. "...and shall subjugate through Tanba the treasure-filled white-quilted land of Silla." With such words did she admonish them, and there exists a tradition stating she had red soil presented... This red soil—interpreted as having been provided for ritual sorcery—was coated onto spears, boats, and armor; then seawater was stirred into crimson murkiness, whereupon an oracle declared: "Nothing shall obstruct the boats." Yet this very act of "producing an auspicious sign" was understood through ancient interpretation as simply having red soil provided—a misunderstanding by people of that era. Though accompanied by later rationalizations, another instance appears in Emperor Jimmu's entry into Kumano: the sword from Takamagahara that pierced through Takakuraji's storehouse roof. While Takemikazuchi no Mikoto's metaphorical pronouncements had been systematized, they recognized this blade as divine *ho*, thereby discerning the heavenly deities' will. Other traditions too represent swords as manifestations of *ho*.

According to the Nakatomi Ritual Prayers, when Ame no Oshikumo ne no Mikoto requested heavenly water from Kamurogi and Kamuromi no Mikoto, they granted him a heavenly tama-gushi and instructed: "Plant this and, from sunset until morning light shines, continuously recite the heavenly norito and grand norito."
If you do so, as a sign, five hundred bamboo groves would appear at daybreak.
"...and if one digs beneath them, the heavenly eight wells will gush forth..." came the oracle they proclaimed.
Wakahiru refers to around ten o'clock in the morning (in Okinawa, this has been said since the days of the Omoro Sōshi and persists today), though it signifies "when daybreak arrives."
However, one might interpret 「弱蒜に」 literally—perhaps suggesting tender garlic shoots and a bamboo grove of five hundred stalks would thereby emerge.
Even considering only the bamboo grove, one could recognize it as *ho*—a sign manifested by the gods.
The heavenly tama-gushi itself likely originated from this concept of *ho*.
Here it was not called *ho* but rather termed *machi*.
Later interpreters rendered it as *machi* for augury symbols.
Truthfully, *machi* was not an especially ancient term.
After instances of *ho*'s usage faded from memory, *machi* must have gradually supplanted it.
This tradition too appears rationalized through claims that heavenly deities taught these terms.
When Ame no Oshikumo ne no Mikoto prayed to the gods, a heavenly tama-gushi abruptly manifested.
After planting the wand where it had self-selected upon the earth and reciting the heavenly norito and grand norito prayers until dawn, five hundred bamboo groves materialized at daybreak.
Interpreting thus reveals how *ho* manifested through the "shizima" deity.

"I will discuss later the relationship between *ho* and augury symbols; beyond designating such material objects as *ho*, there are instances where animals or humans serve this role, or where certain states of these beings are used to imply divine signs."
During Emperor Suinin's reign, when Prince Homutsuwake journeyed toward Izumo and faced choosing among three roads, they performed *futomani* divination. It revealed that on the two main roads, they would likely encounter lame or blind individuals.
Therefore, though the Kishū Road was a side path, it was revealed to be an auspicious route they took.
This too was fundamentally incomprehensible; encountering lame or blind individuals must have led them to conclude those roads were cursed.
From accumulated experiences of this sort, I believe this inverted mode of expression emerged.
Furthermore, earlier still, when ascertaining whether visiting Izumo Grand Shrine truly aligned with divine will, Prince Aketatsu established a pact: should the heron on Amakashi Hill fall, it would confirm the gods' intention. He then dropped the heron, made it take flight again, and tested divine will by withering and reviving Kumakashi tree leaves.
This represents the form called ukehi (divination) for discerning divine will—a method employed when deciding between alternatives.
When transformed, this becomes a method of definitive determination; alternatively, it appears already to have entered divination's domain.
"Ukehu" constitutes the archaic form of "ukegafu" (to receive), derived from the root "ukeku."
It involves inquiring which option the gods would accept through their approval or denial.
This method seeks divine judgment by establishing multiple conditions and submitting to divine selection.
Thus transformed through divine guarantee, it becomes an oath-taking method to demonstrate resolve.
The term "ukehi" encompasses three aspects: adhering to divine guidance amid uncertain judgment, having deities arbitrate disputes between multiple parties, and employing it as an oath mechanism.

The object of such practices was none other than the *ho*—signs or omens—revealed by the gods. In Prince Aketatsu's case as well, records state he conducted *ukehi* rites: through divination making herons fall and revive, through divination withering and reviving tree leaves. They came to request symbols of divine acceptance.

The term "ho" had swiftly faded from memory, becoming solely ritual chants transmitted through the mouths of court reciters. Alongside this shift, another term came to occupy its position—one whose meaning grew skewed toward a singular aspect. That term was *tatari*.

The term *tatari*—already written with the character 祟 in the Kojiki and Nihon Shoki—appears to have incorporated meanings such as "divine censure" and "divine calamity" by the Nara period.
Despite this, from ancient times through the early Heian period, it possessed usage examples that differed significantly from later eras.
The oldest meaning lay in the manifestation of divine will.
In the Chronicles of Emperor Ingyō, when they hunted on Awaji Island but ultimately caught no game, they performed divination, whereupon the island deity manifested and declared: "Preventing the capture of beasts is my intent."
"If you would offer me the pearls from the red stone seabed, I would let you capture beasts," it is recorded.
In this passage, the statement that "the god manifested when divination was performed" does not refer to present-day cursing.
The same applies to the Yūryaku Chronicles’ account stating, “The Ten-Hand-Length Sword manifested and declared…”
The term "tatsu" originally carried the meanings of "to appear" or "to emerge," and from this, concepts such as departure and daily life became associated with it.
The expression “the moon emerges” originated not from denoting the arrival of the new moon but from describing how the hidden moon became visible at month’s end.
"When seeing [phrases like] 'the moon's divine manifestation becomes visible over the opposite mountain,' one would understand."
This indicated the manifestation of the moon deity.
It gradually became internalized, transforming into a term that signified the manifestation of divine will.
Furthermore, when meanings became fixed there, terms like “signs emerge” (*kishiki-tatsu*) and “apparitions manifest” (*omokage-tatsu*)—though stripped of religious faith—came to possess content evoking the spirit world, signifying the emergence of something elusive.
Tatari was a composite form of tatsu and ari (to exist), which in later periods came to be called tateri.
“Tatarite iu” (divinely manifesting and speaking) came to be expressed as “tatsu ari to iu” (emerging and existing [before] speaking).
Though phrased as “the gods manifest and speak,” this actually meant “the internalized divine will manifests and speaks”—in truth not through speech but by revealing the *ho* (sign) of shizima.
However, what must be considered here was that gods of benevolent meaning freely employed “soshiri” (reproach) and “kototohi” (interrogation), whereas gods of malevolent meaning—or those harboring concealed intentions who did not reveal their hearts—had come to exclusively manifest *ho*.
This represented both a devaluation of *ho*'s meaning and could also be considered one reason why the term *ho* itself fell into disuse.
In such cases, it took the form of presenting only a phenomenon while withholding any indication of its underlying cause.
Upon witnessing an unfavorable phenomenon and perceiving it as a divine *ho*, they came to seek its cause and take measures in response—rather than inquiring into what it signified.

When matters developed in this manner, it signified that the concept of *tatari* had already become firmly established. However, these ancient instances were not cases of *tatari* arising from human error or responsibility; rather, they represented phenomena causing human hardship through which deities made their demands known. The Awaji Island Deity desired pearls. The Tatsuta Deity first destroyed the crops out of a desire to be enshrined in a shrine. It was merely a *ho* meant to capture people's attention—nothing more than a forceful negotiation to see if compliance would be given, having not originated from human agency. Thus did *tatari* become confined to the literal meaning of the curse character (祟). This constituted the semantic content of this term during the Nara period or earlier. However, as the essence of the gods gradually became refined, people came to consider such divine manifestations as arising from human faults and sins. Upon entering the Heian period, this aspect intensified further, appearing in documents such as the Tenchō 4th year edict: "Due to His Majesty’s unhealed condition persisting gravely, when divination was sought, it was declared: 'The sin of felling trees at Inari Shrine has manifested as divine retribution...'" The phrases "to emerge as *tatari*" and "to emerge as *ho*" showed no significant difference in their structural outlines—only in their content had complexity been added. "To emerge as divine manifestation" meant expressing [the phenomenon] as divine manifestation. It had long been referred to directly as such. However, it adopted the conceptual framework of "...ni tataru". This came to be expressed as "showing the *ho* by becoming such-and-such." Even though grammatical forms remained fixed until later times, since linguistic tones and meanings had changed early on, people came to employ expressions such as “the island deity manifested and declared…” If reconstructed through ancient vestiges, it should read: “That a *ho* had been deigned to show—wherein not even a single beast could be taken—prompted them to perform divination, asking, ‘Which deity resides here? What august intent does it hold?’ Whereupon the deity’s heart emerged…” From this perspective, we may consider that the grammatical construction “...ni tataru” had been preserved from earlier times.

The ancient form of divine manifestation (*tatari*), wherein the Ten-Hand-Length Sword was made to appear as a *ho* (Sign/Omen), ought to be expressed through the term *ho* itself—for it involved not merely phenomena but the materialization of objects—and this gradually became fixed along a particular path.

What demands mention in this discussion is the term *tatafu*.
One cannot definitively assert that the path through which *tatafu* acquired its meaning of praise necessarily involved expressions prefiguring auspicious fulfillment.
It may also be understood that *tatsu*, taking "fu" as its etymological root, gave rise to *tatafu*—a term whose significance transformed through stages such as "divine will manifests," "causing divine will to appear," and "pre-celebration."
Viewed thus, we discern how *tatafu* came to bear its laudatory meaning—a trajectory paralleling that of *hōmu*, which we shall subsequently examine.
Therefore, we cannot definitively state its derivation from *tatafu* [as "to fill"].

The concept of *ho* abruptly manifesting preserved until later ages folktales of bamboo sprouting overnight.
The account in the Harima Fudoki speaking of bush clover sprouting overnight, and the legend telling of a mountain forming within a single night—all belonged to this lineage.
After religious life surrounding *ho* had been forgotten, it became fixed solely as accounts of objects abruptly appearing.

Verbs taking *ho* as their root included *hogu*, with another form being *homu*.
When *hogu* became lexicalized as a root and underwent re-conjugation, it transformed into *hogafu*.
Deducing from ordinary usage examples suggested *hogu* appeared as an action superior deities performed toward spirit beings.
However viewed from the term "*ho*", the original significance likely lay in spirits of all things emitting "*ho*".
The path through which this came to be referred to as causing emission proved not difficult to conceive.
Viewed from causing spirits' *ho* emission, it still amounted to emitting *ho*.
Though *ho*'s original meaning remained unknown, considering its standing on an etymological path akin to *ura* (as seen in *sue* [tip], *kozue* [treetop], and *ure* [surface] < *ura*), one could also posit an excellence connotation.
Explaining that [the term] referred to such appearance forms through surface/extremity meanings rendered it comprehensible.
One had to consider that "excellence" (秀), conversely influenced by *ho*, would have grown increasingly pronounced and solidified.
The act of spirits manifesting *ho* came largely to be considered—when broadly viewed—as Tokoyo gods' actions; as this gradually took human-like characteristics, it likely came to encompass meanings like "begging for *ho*".

However, as modes of faith underwent transformation, the presence or absence of *ho* became a separate matter, causing divination practices to branch off.
Simultaneously, the term *hogu* came to possess content related to the presence or absence of an incantation’s efficacy.
Originating from the potency of incantations transmitted by the gods—through which spirits became imbued with and guided by their words—this concept progressed to encompass pledges made to spirits regarding specific outcomes, ultimately resulting in the formalized recitation of *norito* prayers.
Since the advent of written records, *hogu* showed a tendency to be uniformly perceived as conveying blessings.
When examined closely, the concept of *ho* remained vividly preserved.
*Sake hogahi* was not originally the act of chanting incantations for sake to be successfully brewed.
They regarded the successful brewing of overnight sake as a *ho* and thereby blessed people’s health.
The Hongi-uta ritual songs within the Ōuta repertoire were a type of incantatory song: [they] perceived goose eggs that did not hatch in Japan as *ho* and chanted them after observing the *ho*.
This conceptualization of *ho* had indeed undergone several transformations over time: rather than *ho* manifesting through incantations as they ought to have, [they] first came to strongly perceive *ho* in mysterious auspicious signs, and subsequently sang these songs in an attempt to amplify *ho*’s efficacy.

When *ukehi* (Divination) undergoes a transformation, it becomes *chikai* (Oath). This too is a word of unknown etymology. However, upon consideration, the form *tokohi* shares its etymological root with tik (= tok). Just as *ukehu* later came to incorporate elements of cursing (*chikau*), we may reasonably infer that this term too—through concurrent phonological shifts and semantic differentiation—resulted in the distinction between swearing (*chikau*) and cursing (*chikau*). Moreover, it is also related to the term *chigiru* (to pledge). *Chigiru* (pledging) was perceived as a formal method adopted through mutual agreement between two parties, but it was apparently not merely symbolic gestures like finger-pulling, verbal confirmations, or exchanging code phrases—rather, a covenant established with a deity as intermediary. In later dynastic periods, their usage became markedly diluted, yet one can discern that this was not merely a contractual matter. Although they became differentiated in this manner, there can be no doubt they were originally one.

Ukehi (Divination) stood upon the foundation of testing the gods; while entrusting itself to the free manifestation of divine will and focusing on ascertaining the deities' intentions, it also came to be employed in situations such as seeking divine judgment.
When it came to oaths (*chikai*), the point that underwent marked transformation lay in containing an attitude that deliberately compelled the manifestation of divine will.
Within divination, those aspects anticipating divine judgment had already begun to manifest elements of oaths.
This oath was not false.
If it were indeed false, no matter how miraculous the result, god would surely manifest it.
This line of thinking formed the basis here.
In the case of divination as well, there had existed a custom of beseeching various challenging *ho* (Signs/Omens).
Since they had further exaggerated this concept, it came to pass that oaths would pledge nearly impossible manifestations of *ho*.
The point requiring utmost attention was whether they had pledged to interpret future phenomena as *ho*.
The oath phrases found in surviving documents today might appear to follow the pattern of declaring, “If there be falsehood in these words, then henceforth… shall come to pass as stated,” but in truth, this was not the case.
For this oath, the gods bore responsibility.
A phenomenon that would overturn the current state before one’s eyes would occur.
Given such modes of expression, it was precisely because they stood upon the foundational belief that falsehoods were impossible when gods served as intermediaries that such methods came to be recognized.
The notion that divine punishment should attempt to demonstrate itself through wondrous phenomena represented a later mode of thought.
The act of invoking divine punishment when swearing oaths was something that occurred in a much later era.
From the perspective of later eras’ ways of thinking, setting difficult “ho” (Signs/Omens) in place would conversely appear advantageous for falsehoods.
In modern times, there persists a toothache exorcism where roasted beans are buried in the earth with vows like “I vow to seal away the tooth worms until these beans sprout”—a practice that was not merely some clever trick to deceive the gods.
"The Yuruwaka legend, which expelled a demon to Brahmaloka with the command 'Do not come to the earthly realm until roasted beans sprout flowers,' reveals a somewhat archaic form."
In other words, the method of oaths had transformed.
This arose from being grounded in testing the divine will through divination, and because the concept of trust in the gods that had developed additionally posited that there was nothing divine power could not manifest.

At the time of Empress Jingū’s campaign against the Three Kingdoms of Korea, the oath sworn by the King of Silla—being formulated from a Japanese perspective—could serve as valid evidence here.
“Then he renewed his vow and declared: ‘Unless the sun rising in the east should rise again in the west; unless the Ari-nare River reverse its flow backward; unless the river’s stones ascend to become stars; and especially should we neglect the spring-and-autumn court assemblies or abandon the tribute of combs and whips—may the heavenly and earthly deities strike you down together.’”
This inverse formulation meant: “If we prove disloyal to Japan, may we behold the sun rise in the west and the Ari-nare River flow backward.
Yet should negligence occur hereafter, may the deities guaranteeing this oath find no objection in unleashing their divine punishment.”

“The bows and arrows we possess are not for the government forces, but for hunting wild beasts whose meat we desire.”
Such examples as their sworn oath—“If we were to prepare bows and arrows for the government forces, the deity of Agata Bay would surely know…”—or the verse from Man'yōshū Book 12, Poem 3100—“Should one claim to feel what they do not feel,/The deity of Kumoji Shrine where true birds nest would reject them”—all demonstrated that attaching divine punishment to attest to the truthfulness of words was not, after all, in accordance with ancient intent.

Even if the mode of conceptualization had taken on a later-period style, what retained traces of ancient intent in the King of Silla’s oath was its phrasing “May the heavenly and earthly deities together punish [you]” rather than “would punish [you].”
“If I were to harbor other thoughts while you live, may the waves of Sue no Matsuyama overflow!” (Kokin Tōka)
That this poem came to be vaguely perceived through commonsense interpretation—merely because it mentioned a mountain where waves overflowed—and that Sue no Matsuyama even inspired place names like Nami-koshi Pass, while geologists identified mountains along the Rikuzen Coast bearing wave traces as its referent, was a preposterous notion.
Even without that rationale, there had also existed a theory interpreting “Sue no Matsuyama” metaphorically as “like waves not crossing.”
However, this represented an archaic form of love oaths whose significance lay precisely in invoking Sue no Matsuyama—a mountain waves could never realistically submerge—as the foundation of such vows.
Moreover, the expression “may [the waves] cross over” did not constitute an imaginative promise about the future—as in “if the oath were broken, then waves would cross over.”
In this case, “na mu” was a particle attached to the first conjugation of verbs that expressed hope.
It was not an auxiliary verb attached to the second conjugation to indicate probability (*darō*).
This carried meanings equivalent to “Let them cross over” or “I want them to cross over.” Consequently, the earlier phrase “if I were to possess” did not refer to future possession but was a temporal contraction meaning “if I were holding [them now].”
It conveyed: “If this oath falsifies our true intent, then let the waves cross over Sue no Matsuyama in Tōji and show us.”
From such circumstances arose the practice of establishing metaphors: “As long as that object remains thus, these words shall not be broken.”
This became either declarations in the King of Silla’s style—“That object shall serve as proof of my resolve”—or expressions phrased as “That object is the sign of my heart.”
“May the lord who caused Mikosagasaki’s rocks in Kamakura to crumble never harbor a heart that knows regret” (Man’yōshū Book 14, 3365) was not mere embellishment but a variation of establishing an object in an oath and transforming it into a metaphor for the heart.
Within the same *Azuma-uta* tradition, that older poems assumed more transformed forms than newer ones held no surprise from folkloristics’ perspective.

The fundamental principle of oaths was not to make gods false witnesses, but there gradually emerged those who exploited divine names to deceive others.
In one account from the *Nihongi*, there exists a tale where Honosuseri no Mikoto declared to Hohodemi no Mikoto: “I shall serve thee reverently as thy bondsman. I beseech thee to save and preserve me.” Yet when the tide receded, he recanted his earlier words: “I am thy elder brother. How could I, as a man’s senior, serve his junior?”—only to be tormented once more by the spiritual power of the tide-flowing jewel.
As it was common for old styles to persist amidst new ones, this tale too demonstrated a new attitude toward oaths.
Therefore, the custom of making oaths with divine punishment as their backdrop came to be practiced.
The oath sworn before the woven Buddhist statue in the Western Hall of the Imperial Palace during the Tenji Era (10th year, 11th month) was an example of this.
“…Prince Ōtomo, holding a censer, stood up first to swear the oath and declared: ‘The six of us—Akai, Kaneshiro, Katsuatsu, Hito, Ōhito, and this Prince—shall unite our hearts in serving the Emperor’s decree."
If there be any transgression, we shall surely incur divine punishment……” Left Minister Soga no Akaiomi and his retinue, holding censers in their hands, rose next in succession. Weeping tears of blood as they swore their oath, they declared: “We five subjects shall follow His Highness in obeying the Emperor’s decree.
If there be any transgression, may the Four Heavenly Emperors strike us down, and may the heavenly and earthly deities likewise mete out punishment.
Thirty-Three Heavens, bear witness to this matter!
…may our descendants perish and our house surely be destroyed…” they swore.
This was not necessarily based on Buddhist rituals.
By and large, religious practices had transformed to this extent since even before the Nara period.
Even when examining the Kinmei Records (23rd year, 6th month), we find Utamono no Kaeri, having suffered a false charge, declaring an oath: “It is false.
It is not true.
If this be true, I shall surely suffer divine punishment,” it was recorded.
This declaration had already departed from its original meaning but could be viewed as a method of addressing the gods.
In other words, this was an oath regarding the truth or falsehood of the words then spoken.
It did not directly address guilt.
This too was an oath invoking divine punishment to attest to the truth or falsehood of the words.

As time progressed into later eras, people gradually came to consider even the minutiae of divine punishment.
In addition to samurai oaths invoking heavenly retribution, they would call down poverty, family dispersal, death, and other calamities through physical disabilities and karmic diseases.
Rather than Buddhist influence, one must consider how fundamental seeds came to be gradually exaggerated.
To view townspeople’s oaths of “May there be a method to...” as samurai-influenced arises from erroneously linking coexisting phenomena.

When asserting something based on personal goodwill, it is called swearing (chikau), but curses born from the notion “If evil resides [in their heart], let calamity come; if good, let peace prevail”—when unable to discern another’s moral state—are termed tokohi (imprecation), with the act called tokohu.
This still entrusts judgment to divine will.
Even this later devolved into mere curse-uttering.
At minimum, terminological usage from the Nara period had already coalesced here.
The canonical ancient usage appears in: “The heavenly deities saw the arrow and declared: ‘This is the arrow We bestowed upon Ame no Wakahiko of old.’”
Pondering why it now returned, they took the arrow and pronounced a curse: “If shot with malicious intent, then Ame no Wakahiko shall surely meet harm.
If shot with tranquil heart, then may he remain unharmed”—then cast it back downward.
Thus did the arrow fall and pierce Ame no Wakahiko’s lofty chest.
Only here too persists the ancient conceptual framework: “Meet destruction!
Remain unscathed!”

In divination (ukehi), the act of questioning whether something stemmed from divine will shifted toward discerning where divine intent resided, while in oaths (chikai), the concept of having deities attest that one's actions and intentions accorded with divine wisdom developed into a formalized covenant system. However, in examples of differentiated imprecations (tokohi), ethical considerations became markedly prominent, giving rise to the notion that if [an act] was good, [the outcome] should be unharmed. This perspective came to adopt the formulation: "If [an act] is evil, let calamity befall." In examples of oaths too, this consideration permeated [the practice], resulting in covenants being sworn against the backdrop of divine punishment.

Tokohi came to be conceived as a method for invoking punishment against evil, then transformed into curses wishing penalties upon those who had caused one's disadvantage—ultimately becoming pure curses.
Yet there existed no instance of tokohi unaccompanied by the concept of revenge.
The method adopted by the mother of Haruyama Kasumi no Osao against Akiyama Shimoburi no Osao serves as a prominent example of this type of imprecation.
Those arising from selfish motives such as jealousy and self-interest are considered to have been termed kashiri (verb: kashiru).
In essence, this was a differentiated form of tokohi—a curse that sought merely to destroy others' vitality out of necessity.
When tokohi transitioned into kashiri in its later stages, practitioners came to target objects embodying aspects of a person's identity or serving as their symbolic representations, casting curses upon them (that is, uttering incantations).

The "ho" (Sign/Omen) that should manifest as divination's effect becomes muddled, giving rise to a method that instead establishes a representative object of the entity—emerging within the domain of tokohi (imprecation) and kashiri (curse). Therefore, considering the nature inherent in entities subjected to kashiri curses, I believe it is not incorrect to view them as variations of ho—those primal Signs and Omens. By and large, divination (ukehi) was secondary when viewed from the perspective of 'Signs and Omens' (ho). The very "Signs and Omens" (ho) that had manifested in both active and passive aspects gradually came to be invoked solely in cases of injustice and impropriety. Yet when it comes to curses (kashiri), it stands to reason that these Signs would reemerge in transformed guise.

Even when speaking of kashiri in the same vein, they did not neglect a contrasting manner of speech that positioned it as akin to tokohi. When Prince Mima was struck down beside Iwao of Miwa, he cursed while pointing at a well, declaring: “This well shall only be drunk by commoners. No monarch shall ever drink from it”—this being that instance.

In the account where Shiinetsuhiko and Otowaku stole soil from Mount Kagu to craft various earthenware vessels and enshrined the heavenly and earthly deities, the phrase “as if cursing [them] like water foam” indicated this was not done merely to create simple ritual implements. The soil of Mount Kagu had been treated as a symbol of the Yamato court’s territory. “Agata-hime, wife of Takehaniyasuhiko, secretly came to take soil from Mount Kagu in Yamato, wrapped it in her scarf, and prayed, declaring: ‘This is the material essence of Yamato’—then departed.” This too had been done to carry out a curse upon the nation. Therefore, before going to steal the soil, the words the deity had instructed were: “Take soil from within the shrine of Heavenly Mount Kagu, fashion eighty flat ritual vessels, create sacred ritual vessels as well, reverently worship the heavenly and earthly deities, and perform solemn curses.” The usage of the character 亦 in the phrase “If [we] do thus, then the captives shall prostrate themselves of their own accord” demonstrated that the soil had been made an object of curses, while also seemingly revealing the path by which the plants and animals of Mount Kagu came to be sanctified. Therefore, the claim that they made ritual vessels could be considered a rational explanation.

Among the various objects used to curse people, they took a stone from the Izushi River as a substitute for Akiyama Shimoburi no Osao, coated it in salt, wrapped it in bamboo leaves from the Izushi River, placed it into an eight-eyed coarse basket woven from that bamboo, and caused it to shrivel and wither like the bamboo leaves.
"May these tides ebb and flow as they do!"
They uttered a curse—"May this stone sink as it sinks!"—and had it placed upon (smoke?), which stands as a striking example.

When examining this curse incantation, do they not treat the substitute and the Sign/Omen as one and the same?
Though the etymology of kashiru remains unknown, it clearly represents a shift from objective imprecations (tokohi) that entrusted choices to divine judgment.
The experience of being cursed (*kashiritsuku*) proved distressing for recipients, and the act of performing countermeasures against it came to be called exorcism (*majinai*).
The etymological root *maji* denotes the power of birds, beasts, and insects—corresponding to the literal meaning of "蛊物" (bewitching creatures)—to inflict plagues upon people. However, while those who wielded such power later termed it exorcism (*majinai*), scholars believe it originally referred to preventive measures.
This constitutes the fundamental distinction between curses (*kashiri*) and exorcisms (*majinai*).

Another point of difference appeared to lie in practitioners' utilization of spirits from myriad things.

The term *norou*—which might be called the representative of these words—when examined through Heian-period usage examples, reveals terms like *noronoroshi* ("accursed") that suggest its etymological root already carried connotations of malediction.
Yet in an era when only differentiated meanings of *norou* remained, one should recognize that newly coined terms conversely came to have their etymological roots imbued with a sense of cursing.
For *norou* to achieve such differentiation, it was likely aided by terminology involving speaking ill through acts like scolding and rebuking.
Only exorcism (*majinai*) differed slightly, but all terms from divination (*ukehi*) onward belonged to the same category, showing a tendency for incantations to be increasingly misused.
Simultaneously, people ceased to regard the appearance of "Signs/Omens" (*ho*) as requiring attention.
"If one were to identify a distinction between *homu* and *hogu*," the difference lay in *homu* having acquired implications of flattery.
This point was also common to *negu*.
That *negu* did not originally mean "to wish" (*negau*) is evident from its sharing an etymological root with *negirafu* ("to show gratitude"), whose base form is *negu*.
"We stroke Our august hand close and show Our gratitude."
Utterances like "stroking while bestowing praise" did not constitute mere reward.
By centering on semantic proximity as parallel structures and considering that [the term] shared an etymological root with *negau*, its meaning underwent significant transformation.
The fact that they spoke of "bestowing gratitude" even before any labor had been performed made it unmistakably clear this was an exaggerated expression of preemptive praise for effort's results.
Phrases like "Since you are splendid, there can be no doubt you will succeed" appeared to represent *negu*'s original meaning.
The aforementioned imperial edicts had incorporated ethical concepts in their terminology, but since ancient meaning resided there, the term *negi* too came to be properly understood.
As for the root *ne*, it is explained elsewhere (see index), but [these terms] shared formative processes with *hogi* practitioners and *hogahi* ritualists.
They were people who propitiated deities and spirits.
It became clear this did not mean "those who wish."

When examining the path through which *homu* became differentiated into meanings of praise and commendation, it was found to have encompassed the sense of hyperbolically describing ideal outcomes surpassing present reality. That is to say, rather than stemming from *hogu* to some extent, this was thought to have occurred after the conceptual awareness of the root 'ho' had undergone a new transformation.

In the mid-lower reaches of Shikoku's Yoshino River existed a community called "homera," whose occupation resembled that of later-mentioned hogahi practitioners. This derives from dialectal phrases like homenamu—equivalent to “Let us praise”—as these professionals visited households demanding “Praise us! Praise us!” Though bearing early modern characteristics, I consider this name a fossilized remnant of homu closely akin to hogu. “May it stand like a hall built by extolling true pillars; may our mother’s visage never alter.” “May our mother’s visage never alter.” This passage from Manyoshu Book 20 (Poem 4342) describes a hall erected from sacred pillars while reciting invocations that it “shall never waver”—a usage nearly contemporaneous with hogu. There remains yet another term seemingly rooted in “ho.”

Found in one variant text of the *Nihon Shoki*: "'All things gathered here in this place.' At that time, Ame no Koyane, ancestral deity of the Nakatomi clan, performed ritual invocations—repeatedly performed divine incantations."
In the phrase "Kamuhosakihosaki," we discern what appears to be the verb *hosaku*.
Tanigawa Kiyosada recorded in his *Shoki Tsūshō* what seemed to be a speculative theory positing that the term *hozaku*—still used today—derives from this root.
Indeed, as it originates from oracles and includes expressions like "reciting divine pronouncements," one could not dismiss this outright.
However, we must recognize that *hosaku*, though absent from written records until the early modern period, had been practiced within folk beliefs.
Regarding this point, we must refrain from definitive assertions until examples emerge to fill this gap spanning over a thousand years.

That such a view was not entirely implausible remained a fact discernible through examining how ancient ritual invocations had undergone artistic stylization (see index entry for hogahibito). From perspectives seeking to expound its origins, *hozaku* appeared to have acquired negative connotations through this process. Concurrently, the modern term *fuzakeru*—whose etymology remained obscure—could similarly be understood as deriving from the "jesting ritual invocations" performed by hogahibito practitioners. As previously discussed regarding *kotohogi* being called *kodoki*, when these too were viewed as artistically refined ritual invocations, the essential nature of later narrative-style recitations termed *kudoki* became apparent. The conventional theory—that the verb *kudoku* shared its root with the adverb *kudokudoi* (from *kudo*) and developed through amorous entreaties between genders—might in fact prove erroneous. Within *kudoki* existed pure narrative poems unburdened by lovers' quarrels or obsessive anguish. Thus while *kodoki* left no written traces, through folk beliefs it persisted as *kudoki* with slight phonetic shifts and preserved melodic patterns—all lyrical pieces chanted with such rhythmic inflections having been subsumed under this designation. Through this reasoning, the theory concerning *hozaku* gained plausible foundation.

However, even in the Manyoshu there existed one instance resembling *hosaku*. “Sen nen hoki hoki to yomoshi” (Book 19, Poem 4266); however, Kamochi Masazumi interpreted 伎 as an erroneous character for 佐, reading it as “hosaki to yomoshi.” Motoori Norinaga revised his theory that “hogihogi to yomoshi” had become “hogiki to yomoshi.” While Norinaga’s theory was logically coherent, Masazumi’s interpretation was believed to be correct. Now, if we posit that the term *hosaku* existed, then its etymological consideration would likely have exerted significant influence on discussions concerning *ho*. In my view, beyond *hogu* and *homu*, there existed another term—*hosu*—which, serving as a further root, may have given rise to the term *hosagu* in the same manner as *hogafu*. However, as I remained uncertain, I ventured to present further speculative theories. I considered that from *hosu* arose the form *hoshinogu*, which then merged to become *hosagu*. There exist instances where forgetting the original significance of etymological roots leads to changes in conjugation. However, if [the term] clearly retained the sense of “raising up” (上ぐ), then the formation of *hosagi* (second conjugation) became somewhat problematic. Since I generally preferred to view suffixes as monosyllabic, a form like *ho-sagu* proved difficult to conceive; however, when examined from this perspective, its etymology could alternatively have been explained as *ho-saku* (to open *ho*). In ancient language, since the term *saku* had broad applications, its use in such a meaning would not have been surprising. However, there remained a question regarding its formation. Therefore, my inner conviction still leaned toward viewing it as a compound of *hosu* and *gu*. In any case, it seemed certain that the etymology was rooted in *ho*. If the term *hosaku* was not an error in the texts, there were still matters that could have been speculated upon. The fact that there exist Shinto priests or shrine maidens called “hosa” in the Kyushu region could be viewed as the root [word] having become detached from the fixed meaning of *hosaku*.

The so-called Aosai Nenbutsu was in fact merely an ateji (phonetic character borrowing), and considering its connection to refrains like *hōsa* and *hōsai* found in Edo-period *kouta* folk songs, it could be thought to perhaps be a vestige of *Hosaki* ritual invocations.

The mysterious “Ōsai Ōsai” refrain of the “Okina” character—sanctified within sarugaku tradition—was not merely a theatrical chant; it may instead have represented reduplicated phrases akin to “Hosaki Hosaki,” potentially transformed from supplementary phrases to ritual incantations.