Pathway to Japanese Literature

This essay was compiled into manuscript form and expanded from a talk I delivered at the Kirinotabi Society’s Tenth Anniversary Commemorative Meeting on June 10, Showa 3 (1928); however, as it was fundamentally a provisional draft—merely presenting some passing thoughts that might be likened to a fanciful tale—I wish to make this clear in advance.
Regarding Southern Oceanic languages, I primarily relied upon Dr. Tsuboi Kyūzō's *An Investigation of the Wa People*, while also consulting reference works such as the École française d'Extrême-Orient's *Chiam-French Dictionary*, *Malay-English Dictionary*, and *Japanese-Malay Dictionary*.
As for Ainu language materials, I relied upon Mr. Batchelor’s *Ainu-English Dictionary*.
In addition, I consulted the *Korean Language Dictionary* compiled by the Government-General of Korea, publications by Luzac & Co., *Indian Mythology* from the Oriental Religions Series, and Mr. Jean Leray de Bersy’s *Angkor* and *Ethnography of the Pacific Islands*, among others.

When considering Japan's mountain nomenclature from an analytical perspective—setting aside those instances that are exceedingly straightforward—it follows that attempting to accurately decipher ancient toponymic origins from later eras presented no simple task; multiple interpretations would inevitably be proposed as a matter of course while remaining entirely possible that none might grasp historical truth.

What I shall next discuss consists of three to five somewhat intriguing examples selected from my tentative study of mountain names—instances where such interpretations might be considered viable—though I have striven to deliberately avoid analyses based on our national language.
This was my original purpose from the outset, and I wish to append this clarification here.

Mount Fuji

The name of Mount Fuji had now become so renowned that no foreigner visiting our land remained unaware of it; yet its profound domestic veneration since antiquity found expression through Yamabe no Akahito’s poem gazing upon Mount Fuji—

From when heaven and earth first split asunder,
This peak divine in Suruga stands -
Fuji's lofty height where gods reside.
Gazing up through heaven's plain,
The passing sun hides its face,
The shining moon veils its light,
White clouds halt their course,
While endless snows descend -
This sacred peak we'll ever praise,
Generation through generation.

And likewise, the poem composed by Takashi no Muraji Mushimaro:

Between twilight Kai's domain
And surging Suruga's shore,
Rises Fuji's peerless form -
Where heaven's clouds dare not drift,
Where soaring birds cannot climb.
Fire born of earth meets quenching snow,
Snow descending meets fiery glow,
Beyond all mortal naming,
An awe-inspiring deity enshrined.
Though called "Stone Flower Sea"
For the waters at its base,
Though "Endless River" flows
From its cascading streams -
Pillar guarding Yamato's realm,
Nation's sacred treasure-mount,
Fuji's soaring majesty -
A sight no eye could ever tire.

we could also come to know through such works.
When we examined these poems, it became apparent that they did not merely extol the majestic form manifest externally; they also sang of both their own reverence toward Mount Fuji and the hearts of those people who had venerated the mountain in that era.

In Miyako no Yoshika’s "Record of Mount Fuji" included in *Honchō Monzui* [A Collection of Our Court’s Literary Excellence],

Mount Fuji stands in Suruga Province; its peak appears as if carved, rising sheer to heaven—its height immeasurable. Having surveyed all historical records, there has never been one surpassing this mountain.

states, and further

Its towering peak rises in dense majesty, appearing at the sky’s edge; overlooking the sea, one observes its spiritual foundation coiling continuously across several thousand *ri*. Travelers pass beneath it over days, yet even after departing, their backward gazes linger as if still standing at its base—truly a gathering place for divine beings.

This passage expounded upon Mount Fuji’s sublime grandeur; furthermore,

On the fifth day of the eleventh month in the seventeenth year of Jōgan [875 CE], officials and commoners conducted rituals as was customary. As noon approached, under skies of surpassing clarity, they gazed upward at the mountain’s peak. There appeared two beautiful women clad in white, dancing in unison upon the summit—hovering a foot above its crest. The locals collectively witnessed this marvel. The elders transmitted: “The mountain’s name Fuji derives from the district’s appellation.”
The mountain has a deity; its name is Asama Daijin.

The aforementioned account demonstrated through factual evidence that this sacred mountain served as a gathering place for divine beings, showing that venerating Mount Fuji shared the same essence as the poems composed by Akahito and Mushimaro.
The account of two white-clad beauties dancing in unison a foot above the mountain’s summit—to presume that this could be explained away as phenomena like cap clouds was to prove oneself ignorant of our ancestors’ hearts.

Despite Mount Fuji having been an object of such deep veneration since antiquity, its etymology had already grown obscure enough by Yoshika's time that even then tradition held the mountain's name derived from its district—hence why those deemed great scholars of national studies, though they wrestled mightily with this question, ultimately failed to produce a satisfactory interpretation.

Following the Meiji Restoration, research in anthropology, archaeology, linguistics, and related fields commenced, and in tandem with this development, it came to be theorized that "Fuji" derived from the Ainu words *fuchi* or *fuji* meaning "fire"—that is to say, Mount Fuji had been given this name because it was a volcano—whereupon at last an interpretation compelling people to nod in understanding was discovered.
However, a man named Yamagata Gyokudō wrote in the miscellany column of “Yama-gaku” (『山岳』)’s fourth year, third issue:
That doctors and scholars including Dr. Tsuboi Shōgorō, Shiga Shigetaka, and Kubo Tenzui—even extending to Mr. Batchelor, who is said to be versed in Ainu—should unanimously advocate the theory that *fuchi* means "fire," and that Mount Fuji acquired its name from being a volcano, strikes one as an astonishingly slipshod argument of the utmost thoughtlessness.
While Fuji is undeniably an Ainu term, it specifically denotes a white-haired elderly woman—for instance, though the fire deity should properly be called *Abe Kamui*, the locals instead refer to it as *Abe Fuchi*, meaning "fire granny," an appellation imbued with deep affection. This nomenclature finds its justification in how Mount Fuji's pristinely symmetrical form, crowned with eternal snows, mirrors the Ainu people's image of a white-haired matriarch, leaving absolutely no room for doubt that this celebrated peak came to be called Fuchi.

he proposed this theory.
According to this theory, in the Ainu language, fire is "Abe" rather than "Fuchi."
Therefore, even if Abe-Fuchi were abbreviated to Fuchi, since the essence lies not in Abe but in Fuchi, this is what Takashi no Muraji Mushimaro invoked in his poem—

The snow lingering upon Fuji’s peak through June’s

When [the snow] melts away on the fifteenth day, that very night it falls anew.

As seen in this poem, when viewed from a perspective emphasizing snow, it becomes an intriguing explanation—one that seemed worthy of consideration as a valid theory.

However, while affectionately calling fire "fire granny" might be conceivable for ordinary flames used in daily life, it seemed highly doubtful whether ancient people had harbored such familiarity toward a violent volcanic mountain; would it not have been more appropriate to consider that they instead revered it with trembling awe? The Ainu of Sakhalin still called fire *fuchi* today, and consulting Mr. Batchelor’s *Ainu-English Dictionary* revealed both Fuchi and Huchi defined as “fire,” with synonyms including Abe, Unchi, and Fuji enumerated. Under the Huchi entry appeared four definitions: grandmother, elderly woman, female ancestor, and fire—particularly noting Kamui Huchi was translated as “goddess of fire.” This demonstrated Mr. Batchelor had not been unaware of *fuchi*’s connotation as “elderly woman” that Yamagata posited.

Furthermore, according to the *Ainu-English Dictionary*, it stated that "Abe" was sometimes pronounced as "Api." This term "Api," while showing slight variations such as Pui, Apuy, Öpui, Afi, and Apuei, belonged to Southern Oceanic languages—indeed being called "api" in Malay—from which the Japanese "hi" (火) for "fire" also originated.

From this perspective, the Ainu word meaning "fire" had originally been Fuchi, while Api appeared to be a term they adopted upon contact with Southern Oceanic immigrants. And since those who handled Fuchi at home were generally elderly women unsuited for outdoor work, when the term Api was adopted, Fuchi naturally shifted to refer to those handling fire [*], eventually coming to denote elderly women and even female ancestors as Fuchi.

The Sakhalin Ainu had had no contact with Southern Oceanic immigrants—or at most rare contact—which was why they likely continued using their own term *Fuchi* even now.

Therefore, I supported the theory that Mount Fuji’s name ultimately derived from the Ainu term *Fuchi*, signifying a fire deity.

Mr. Kurita Hiroshi, in his annotation of the passage in *Hitachi Fudoki* where the ancestral deity Soshin-son arrives at Fukuji-dake in Suruga Province, states:

"Fukuji should be read as the characters are written."
In Kurita’s analysis, "fu" signifies fire and "kuji" denotes strangeness; thus Mount Fuji was named for being a volcano. Takachiho is called Kujihi, which is also read as Fukuji—both signifying "strange fire."

he states.
However, this is an interpretation of Fukuji, not Fuji, but it is a theory that comes quite close to the original meaning.

Furthermore, a theory positing that Fuji derives from the Malay word put (correctly puti), meaning "white," appears in an article titled "A Foreigner’s View of Tokyo" published in the Meiji 40 [1907] edition of the Hochi Shimbun.
While the phonetic shift from Puti to Puchi and then to Fuji is plausible—thereby resulting in the interpretation “White Mountain,” which resembles Mr. Yamagata’s aforementioned theory—I nevertheless give greater weight to the straightforward Kamui Fuchi (Fuji’s divine mountain) theory over the Puti corruption hypothesis. This is because I acknowledge that volcanic activity would have left a far stronger impression on primitive people than snow, and because there are compelling reasons to believe the Ainu people once inhabited this region.

Now that the etymology of Fuji had been clarified in this manner, why the deity enshrined at Mount Fuji was called Asama became yet another inexplicable mystery to me. It was certain that people of antiquity recognized Fuji and Asama as a single entity; however, regarding the origin of Asama, they knew absolutely nothing—just as with Fuji. This explanation had unexpectedly been readily provided within the previously cited “A Foreigner’s View of Tokyo.” If I were to extract its main points now:

When considering the names of Japan’s lofty mountains, one finds many appellations prefixed with the Malay word *asap*—which carries the meaning of “smoke”—as if these peaks were once volcanic. Asamayama exemplified this, as did Aso-san; likewise, the Asama enshrined upon Mount Fuji undoubtedly followed this pattern. Thus, Fuji was none other than “the white mountain where the Asama deity resides.” The name Ashigara Mountain’s “Ashi” corresponded to “Asa,” while “Gara” in Malay meant “to be ravaged,” thus forming “a mountain ravaged by smoke”—likely due to being devastated by ash and smoke from Mount Fuji’s eruptions. The designation of Nikko Mountain as “Futaara-san” was thought to be a corruption of “Puto-gara,” expressing “a white mountain that is wild.” Furthermore, Asama Hot Springs and Asamushi Hot Springs were also likely derived from the concept of smoke.

This is what is stated.
The full text has been reprinted in the miscellany column of *Yama-gaku*, Year 2, Issue 3; please consult it there.

While it is now said that the Japanese language primarily unifies vocabulary from Southern Oceanic Mon-Khmer and Chiam languages through Tungusic grammar of the Northern school, there can be no doubt that around Meiji 40 [1907], those attempting to interpret Japanese through Southern Oceanic linguistic frameworks—if not entirely nonexistent—were exceedingly rare. Consequently, this newspaper article may have served as a fuse that later ignited scholarly momentum toward researching Southern Oceanic languages.
That said, it is claimed that words directly adopted from Malay into Japanese are so few they can be counted on one hand; even the theory positing Ashigara Mountain’s name as a phonetic corruption of a Malay term remains difficult to readily accept. Yet to attempt explaining Futara-san through Malay as well amounts to being carried away and overextending—in short, an interpretation misaligned with reality.
Even this *Asa* meaning “smoke” is by no means limited solely to Malay but is widely used among Southern Oceanic peoples—despite minor variations such as *Asu*, *Asaup/Asauk*, *Athauk*, and *Atup*. Since *ma* in Malay indeed signifies “mother,” *Asama* thus becomes “Mother of Smoke.”
It might alternatively mean “goddess of smoke,” but I do not know whether this constitutes an ancient term; moreover, I believe that according to Southern Oceanic grammatical structure, one would have to say *Ma Asa*.
Be that as it may, there remains almost no room for doubt that Asama derives from terms such as Asa and Asau.

That the Ainu term Fuchi and the Southern Oceanic Asama came to coexist as terms for a single mountain struck me as particularly intriguing, given that this very region bore the name Suruga.
Suruga was synonymous with Tsuruga and was said to derive from the Chiam word Čruh—meaning "mixed residents"—a term likely used to refer to the Ainu people.
And thus the Southern Oceanic languages—which had prevailed over Ainu—became the names of deities, while Ainu remained merely as mountain appellations.
To this Asama were applied the two characters 浅間, which over time came to be phonetically read as Sengen, thereby establishing Fuji Sengen Daimyōjin or Daibosatsu.

● Mount Fuji as Seen from Mount Kagenobu

The mountains found across various regions bearing names like "Such-and-Such Fuji"—for example Satsuma Fuji (Kaimon-dake), Sanuki Fuji (Iinoyama), Ōmi Fuji (Mikami-yama), Nambu Fuji (Iwate-san), Tsugaru Fuji (Iwaki-san), or Ezo Fuji (Makkari-nupuri)—were so called due to their resemblance in shape [to Mount Fuji], while mountains called Asama or Sengen (such as the Asama-yama in the Joshin region, said to enshrine Iwanaga-hime) derived their names from having enshrined Asama Shrines; being veneration sites, they were mostly low peaks easily climbed even by women and elderly people.
Furthermore, a place was called Fujimi-tōge (Fuji View Pass) precisely because Mount Fuji could be viewed from there, as the name indicated, but if an Asama Shrine had been enshrined [there], it was referred to as Asama-tōge (Asama Pass).
While Fujimi Passes did not necessarily contain an Asama Shrine, Sengen Passes invariably possessed one.

By way of supplementary explanation:
The Asama Shrines had originally venerated mountain spirits, but regarding how they came to enshrine Konohanasakuya-hime as their deity—setting aside their connection to the nearby Mishima Shrines—I could posit two hypotheses.
The first concerned the legend of Konohanasakuya-hime’s childbirth being associated with fire—according to the *Kojiki*,

[She] constructed a vast eight-hiro hall without doors and entered within it, sealing [the entrance] with earth. When giving birth to her children, she set fire to the hall; the child born as the flames burned most fiercely was named Hoderi no Mikoto. Next was born Hosuseri no Mikoto, followed by Hoori no Mikoto—also known as Hikohohodemi no Mikoto.

This was recorded as such, and the account in the Nihon Shoki was largely similar.
Moreover, the majestic form of Mount Fuji itself naturally evoked the image of a goddess; combined with this, it was thought to have been a primary cause for Konohanasakuya-hime coming to be enshrined as the goddess of the volcanic mountain.
Another factor lay in the abundance of mountain cherry blossoms across Mount Fuji's foothills, which were consequently transplanted to shrine grounds—could their flourishing blooms not have naturally evoked associations with Konohanasakuya-hime, thereby becoming a cause for her enshrinement as the venerated deity?
In the Shoku Gosenshū (Continued Later Collection of Waka),

Around the twentieth day of the fourth month, when Hōin Ryōben secluded himself at Suruga Fuji Shrine and the cherry blossoms appeared in full splendor, he composed [this poem]:

At Fuji's base, following the custom of blooming flowers,

Yet unaware of season's call—the mountain cherries bloom.

This likely narrates the circumstances of this period.

In recent times, there are those who argue that the etymology of Fuji, while still being from the Ainu language, derives not from Fuchi or Fuji but from Pushi.
Since *Pushi* carries the meaning of rupturing or erupting, it can be said to be an apt term for Fuji, a volcanic mountain.
Indeed, it is actually used in place names in Hokkaido; however, as seen in examples like Opshinai, Shumupushi, Mopshi, and Menashipushi, it is predominantly applied to river names and does not appear to be used for mountain names—though if one were to conduct a detailed investigation, it might possibly be discovered.
To the north of Mount Tarumae, there is a mountain called Fuppushinuprī; however, the name has no relation to volcanic eruptions and instead signifies "a mountain with Todomatsu fir trees."

Furthermore, Aso and Asama are also said to be Ainu terms: Aso being *Asō*, meaning "volcanic crater," and Asama being *Asōomai*, signifying "a place with a volcanic crater." Although traces of Ainu habitation exist in northern Kyushu as well, given the Wa people's far greater numbers, it seems implausible that the Ainu language held sufficient influence to name volcanoes in the Kumamoto region. Nevertheless, I shall postpone further examination of this matter and present it here as a supplementary theory.

Ontake (Kiso)

Ontake is one of the many mountain names found throughout various regions, but it is ordinarily read as Mitake; as for calling it Ontake, this appears limited to the Ontake in Kiso, and I know of no other examples.
This likely occurred after the ascetic Kakumei renovated the Kurozawa entrance during the Tenmei era (1781–1789), leading to increased mountaineering activity and the adoption of the name Ontake.
There are cases where mountains are called Mitake in the sense of being mountains where deities reside or are enshrined, and cases where the peak itself is venerated as a deity and called Ontake; Kiso Ontake appears to be an example of the latter.
In any case, it was not originally a proper noun.

The enshrined deity of Ontake remained unclear.
Though I had not seen it myself, there existed a book titled *Ontake Shrine Origins* that stated the enshrined deities were Ōkuninushi-no-Mikoto and Sukunahikona-no-Mikoto, with shrines constructed at Kurozawaguchi in the sixth year of the Hōki era.
However, it was said that later the monk Kūkai climbed the mountain to preach the doctrine of honji-suijaku (original reality and manifested traces), proclaiming Ōkuninushi-no-Mikoto as Zaō Bosatsu and Sukunahikona-no-Mikoto as Yakushi Nyorai's manifested incarnation, then enshrined these two Buddhas on the summit under the designation Ontake-san Zaō Dai-Gongen.

In December of Hōreki 7 (1757), *Kiso Shiryaku* compiled by Matsudaira Shūun contained in its Kurozawa section:

The shrine (Ontake Gongen Shrine) enshrines Ontake; commonly called Satomiya [Village Shrine], it has two shrines—the main and auxiliary. It was anciently known as Anki Daibosatsu, with tradition stating its establishment in the third year of Enchō [925 CE].
[...]

According to this, it was clear that Ontake Shrine venerated the mountain itself; however, what deity or Buddha Anki Daibosatsu represented remained undetermined. But since Anki was also sometimes written as 安喜, should it be read as Anki? If we took the enshrinement as occurring in the third year of Enchō [925 CE], this would postdate the sixth year of Hōki [775 CE] by 150 years. While I maintained it was difficult to determine which of these two traditions held validity, the Shinano Hōkan recorded that inscriptions on temple bells from Shitoku 2 [1385 CE] (Genchū 2 in Emperor Go-Kameyama's Southern Court reckoning) and Tenbun 23 [1554 CE]...

[This is] the waniguchi bell of the Great Bodhisattva Wakamiya Hall at Kiso Kurozawa.

Shitoku 2 (1385), sixth month, thirteenth day. Chief Patron: Iyo-no-kami Ienobu.

This is the Bodhisattva Waniguchi Bell of Kiso Kurozawa, Shinshu.

Tenbun 23 (1554), sixth month, fifteenth day. Chief Patron: Kiso Yoshinari.

Same [date]: Legitimate Son Yoshiyasu.

Priest: Taishirō Hisatsugu

From the fact that all instances referred to Bodhisattva rather than Gongen (avatar deity), I inferred that the account in *Kiso Shiryaku* appeared closer to the truth.
I surmised that *Origins Record* had been created during the Tokugawa period when they emulated Yamato’s Mount Kinpu and renamed [the deity] Zaō Gongen—deliberately writing 座王 where it should have been 蔵王—while attributing it to Kūkai in an attempt to lend it an air of antiquity.
The appellation “Ontake-san Zaō Dai-Gongen” remains in widespread use to this day.

The *Origins Record* further states that due to there being no dedicated priest at Ontake Shrine, Kiso Iyo-no-kami Iemura—deeply concerned about the neglect of divine duties—earnestly petitioned the priests of Suwa Shrine and had Shigeharu, the second son of Takei Ōhōri Shigie of the Lower Shrine, relocate to Kurozawa to serve as priest. However, the *Suwa Kyūseki-shi (Records of Suwa Antiquities)* states:

"The priestly position at Mount Kiso Ontake in Shinshu Province has profound historical origins; Takei Ōhōri Kunai-no-taifu Shigie of Suwa Lower Shrine established this priestly position. Then, Takei Kunai-no-shōyū Shigeharu was appointed to the priestly position under the same name. For future generations, this document serves as an evidentiary record; thus, it is hereby set forth."

Tokuji 2, sixth month, thirteenth day [1307 CE] (Emperor Go-Nijō, 621 years prior)

Rather than resulting from Iemura's earnest petition, it appeared Shigeharu had assumed the priesthood through some special connection. While this document too contained dubious elements, I elected to provisionally accept its account. To this day, the Takei family continues to serve as priests at Kurozawaguchi.

The exclusive veneration of Ontake at Kurozawa is attested in *Kiso Shiryaku*:

"[Ontake] stands as Shinano Province's great mountain; villages including Nishino, Suekawa, Kurozawa, and Ōtaki all cluster at its base. Yet Kurozawa alone maintains its worship."
[...]

This made matters clear. However, Kamishima's Iwato Gongen was said to have been a branch shrine of Ontake, and like Kurozawa, maintained the custom of shrine priests leading pilgrims during the annual June 13th ascent—leaving no doubt that a narrow path had also connected from Ōtaki. In former times, these ascents were conducted with utmost solemnity: practitioners would undergo a hundred days of purification before making the climb from the night of the twelfth through the thirteenth day of the sixth month, as attested by Kiso Nagamasa's vow in the Shūko Bunsho. That wooden tablets inscribed with names from that period became treasures at Kurozawaguchi's Satomiya shrine is what the Kiso Shiryaku records.

Kiso Nagamasa's Votive Prayer, *Shūko Bunsho* Volume 47

For Ontake ascetic practice: By observing one hundred days of purification in this village, all wishes within the village shall be fulfilled and satisfied.

Hereby recorded for posterity as stated above.

In the third year of Eiroku [永禄], Kanoe-Saru (Metal Monkey), sixth month (June), thirteenth day.

Minamoto no Asomi Kiso Nagamasa [Seal]

Attendants

Kamimatsu Hikojūrō Kyūri Kumazō

Chimura Tsuruwaka Hara Shinjirō

Hara Ukyō-no-suke

Chimura Kōshichi Porter Yosaburō

Hara Sōhachi Emon no Jō White robe Hachirō Zaemon

Kyūri Mondo no Jō Makai Gen'gorō

Eiroku (written with the characters 永禄) refers to the Eiroku era, and its third year would be the year following the Battle of Okehazama. From this alone, the antiquity of Ontake pilgrimages became evident. However, the flourishing of Ontake pilgrimages occurred after Kakumei Gyōja of Kasugai District, Owari Province renovated the Kurozawaguchi route in Tenmei 5 [1785] through the laborious efforts of Somachō Kurō and twelve others from Yabuhara, and Fukan Gyōja of Saitama District, Musashi Province constructed the Ōtaki mountain path in Kansei 4 [1792]—after both were recognized as restorers of the tradition.

Mount Hakusan

Mount Hakusan was called *Shira-yama* in Koshi.
It later came to be read with the on'yomi pronunciation "Hakusan".
The reason for this name *Shira-yama* ("White Mountain") was—as everyone knows—the heavy winter snowfall and consequently large amounts of remaining snow retained even through summer.
Minister of Civil Affairs Michitoshi's verses:

"Though white snow blankets every mountain alike,
The true whiteness lies in Koshi's Shirane."

sang of this essence, while Ikuhashi no Mimotsura contributed to the poem:

"If there were no time when [snow] melts away completely,
That along Koshi Road...
The name of Mount Hakusan would reside in its snow."

The lines stating "[...]" likely speak of the origin of Mount Hakusan's name.
This mountain, which had such abundant snow while also being a volcano, was described by Tachibana Nankei as follows:

"Mount Hakusan stands as a solitary peak with an expansive root spread, its snow persisting through all four seasons like carved white jade; to behold it is to feel awakened."

As Tachibana had insightfully declared, this mountain—if not quite on par with Mount Fuji—nonetheless stood as one of striking beauty; that ancient inhabitants viewed it as feminine and venerated it as Shirayamahime-no-Kami seemed only natural.
Shiro was an ancient Japanese term related to the Southern Oceanic word surau, which referred to the hulling of rice; it was said to be cognate with shirashira or shinashina, terms denoting the sun.
When this Shirayamahime came to be known as Kukurihime-no-Mikoto remained unclear.
Kukurihime-no-Mikoto was the deity who recommended purification when Izanagi-no-Mikoto returned from the Land of Yomi; therefore, it followed naturally that the two deities Izanagi-no-Mikoto and Izanami-no-Mikoto came to be jointly enshrined.
Since Kukurihime-no-Mikoto was fundamentally a goddess, it could be surmised that those who conducted the joint enshrinement gave greater emphasis to Izanami-no-Mikoto—who was likewise a goddess—in their treatment of the deities.

Now, ever since texts such as *Hakusan Engi* from Ishikawa District, Kaga Province, and *Genkō Shakusho* expounded how in Yōrō 1 of Empress Genshō’s reign [717 CE], the monk Taichō—revered as the Great Virtue of Koshi—first reached Hakusan’s summit and received teachings from Myōri Daibosatsu, numerous theories were discussed in works like *Usa Takusenshū*, *Hakusan no Ki*, and many others. Ultimately, however, these amounted to nothing more than explanations of *honji suijaku* concerning four kami—Kukurihime, Izanami-no-Mikoto, Izanagi-no-Mikoto, and Ōkuninushi-no-Mikoto—and four buddhas: Myōri Daibosatsu, Eleven-Faced Kannon, Amida Nyorai, and Shō Kannon.
The fact that Hakusan’s followers later colluded with Mount Hiei to wield oppressive force was detailed in *Genpei Jōsuiki* (The Rise and Fall of the Minamoto and Taira Clans) and other works.

Mount Tateyama

Mount Tateyama, a celebrated peak of Koshi standing alongside Mount Hakusan, was anciently called Tachiyama.
Ōtomo no Yakamochi—the Manyōshū poet—assumed office as Governor of Etchū Province in the seventh month of Tenpyō 18 during Emperor Shōmu's reign, and on the twenty-seventh day of the fourth month in his third year [of service], composed these verses:

In Koshi's realm beneath heaven's distant veil,
Though countless mountains rise in dense array,
And rivers myriad course through every vale,
At Shinano's Tateyama—where sovereign gods hold sway—
Perpetual snow lies mantled 'cross the height,
While morning-evening mists o'er Kakahi River play.
Year after year I gaze upon this sight,
A tale for ages yet unborn to cite,
That those who never saw might know its fame,
And hearing but its name, burn with envy's flame.

there existed a poem, and on the following twenty-eighth day, Ōtomo no Ikezumi responded in kind:

Bathed in morning light, appearing divine in its westward gaze,
Bearing its sacred name, Mount Tateyama soared skyward,
Where winter and summer stand indistinct,
Snow lies draped in white hemp cloth through ages untold.
Time itself congeals in its godly crags -
How many eras have crystallized here?
Though we stand gazing in marvel,
At peaks piercing heavens and valleys plunging deep,
Through pristine rapids where waters cascade,
Morning mist ever spreads across its face,
Evening clouds drape like celestial shelves,
Yet our awe falters not before these mists,
Nor do rushing streams' clear tones cease,
That future generations might forever proclaim:
"So long as rivers flow eternal..."

he sang.

Tachi derived from the language of the Sakai tribe—kin to the Wa people—originated from tetsu meaning "to rise up" or "stand erect." Since yakata refers to a fortress or tate structure, Tateyama essentially meant "fortress mountain"—a peak serving as the divine fortress where the Ushihaku deity resided. Though every mountain has its enshrined deity, that this peak alone bore such a name must be considered an honor in modern terms—a distinction simultaneously revealing Tateyama's inherent grandeur.

Alternatively, even interpreting this tatsu through its original meaning of “standing” aligned with Ikezumi’s poetic description of “Mount Tateyama towering to the heavens,” thereby still claiming glory as a mountain unrivaled by others.

Though Mount Tateyama rivaled Mount Hakusan in snow abundance, its majestic form could be distinguished from the latter at first glance. That indigenous people viewed this mountain as masculine and venerated it as Oyama-no-Kami formed a perfect contrast to their worship of Mount Hakusan as Himekami.

Yet this marked merely the first step in the rivalry between Mount Hakusan and Mount Tateyama.

The round stones laid before Oyama Shrine’s sanctuary were reportedly brought from the foothills by pilgrims who, according to Mr. Tsujimoto, acted on a sincere desire to elevate the sacred mountain even slightly—a practice rooted in the local legend that “Mount Tateyama stands lower than Mount Hakusan by just the height of a horse’s clog.”

Regarding enshrined deities too, while Mount Hakusan has Kukurihime-no-Mikoto, this mountain presents Tajikarao-no-Mikoto; where Izanami-no-Mikoto is contrasted with Izanagi-no-Mikoto—a pattern that extends identically to the names of mountains and peaks, lakes and marshes, even legends of old women and their female companions transforming into trees and stones.

At Mount Hakusan, it is said that in Yōrō 1 [717 CE], Monk Taichō ascended the mountain after receiving a heavenly maiden’s revelation in his dream to meet Myōri Daibosatsu face-to-face; whereas at Mount Tateyama, accounts declare that in Taihō 1 [701 CE], Amida Nyorai appeared at Emperor Monmu’s bedside to instruct him to appoint Saeki Ariwaka as Governor of Etchū Province. Later, Ariwaka’s son Ariyori—while hunting at Mount Tateyama—shot a bear and pursued it deep into the mountains, where he witnessed the Amida Triad standing with an arrow lodged in their chests. Overwhelmed with devout awe, he took ascetic vows under the name Jikō and opened Mount Tateyama for worship.

This may well be a founding legend created by the Saeki clan when they assumed the role of shrine priests—or so I am inclined to think.

In any case, I consider that Mount Hakusan was opened earlier than Mount Tateyama; however, I shall refrain from discussing this in detail here.

Mount Gassan, Mount Chōkai, Mount Haguro

First, I must examine Dewa—the ancient name for what later became Uzen and Ugo provinces.
Dewa was originally called Ideha before evolving into its later pronunciation.
Empress Genmei first established Dewa Province in Wadō 5 (1216 years ago); until then, it had existed as Dewa District.
Regarding the etymology of Ideha, *Chirishi Ryō* states—

Note: As cited in the Theological Compendium’s quotation of the Fudoki: “In ancient times, Honshu [Japan] contributed eagle feathers to be used for arrow fletching; hence it was named Dewa Province.”

As stated here, it was held that the county’s name originated from its production of eagle feathers.
Admittedly, it was true that eagle feathers were produced, but since this was not limited to the land of Dewa, one could not consider this as having become the place name.
*Dewa Meigi Kō* states that [the name] likely derived from the meaning of “outset”; this was probably a correct conjecture.

As for where the locality of the place name Ideha was, it was undoubtedly the Shōnai Plain—the location of the Engishiki-listed Ideha Shrine. The Ide in Ideha derives from uchi or ichi—corrupted forms meaning *dehazure* in Southern Oceanic languages—while ha is a Chiam term signifying "plain," as seen in Naniha (Naniwa). In that case, Ichi-ha would thus be rendered as the plain of Dehazure. This Dehazure—of course referring to that mentioned from Echigo’s direction—would have transformed from Ichi-ha to Itsu-ha and then into Ideha.

There was a river called the Akagawa that flowed north-south through the southern part of this plain and emptied into the Mogami River near Sakata. It was also known by another name, Daibonji River, with some claiming this derived from Sanskrit characters manifesting in its waters—though this was merely a folk etymology arising from the corruption of "Daihō-ji" into "Daibon-ji." Theories abounded regarding the name Akagawa itself: some attributed it to reddish-hued hot springs upstream, while others claimed pilgrims ascending Mount Yudono had called it Akagawa ("Foulness River") after performing purification rituals at its headwaters, which later transformed into Akagawa ("Red River"). Indeed, certain rivers in this plain did carry water tinted like red soil. However, in my view, this was fundamentally the Aga River—a name that had evolved from its original meaning as the River of Uga or Onga into Aga and subsequently Akagawa ("Red River"), being none other than a designation derived from the grand shrine dedicated to Ukanomitama-no-Kami that once stood nearby. The Engishiki listed Toga Shrine in Tagawa District, and from place names like Togahara and Inari south of Tsuruoka City, I had initially imagined its location to be somewhere nearby—until examining Shindō Izumi's "Brief Topographical Record of Dewa," completed in the twelfth year of Hōreki (1762).

1. Toga Shrine

Kodeni Nobumasa states: "Toga Shrine exists in Inari Village south of Tsuruoka Castle; until recently, it was commonly referred to as the shrine of Inari Daimyōjin. In recent years, it was renamed. It is said that this change occurred because the readings of 'Toga' and 'Inari' are phonetically similar, leading to a transformation."

When I visited and inspected the shrine grounds, I found the location ill-suited for an Engishiki-listed shrine—a most regrettable state—as the old shrine site lay within Yodogawa-gumi.

I was pleased to find my conjecture confirmed, but when the author of *Fudoryakki* expressed regret that the current grounds were unsuitable for an Engishiki-listed shrine and identified the old shrine site as lying within Yodogawa-gumi, I must say it is precisely this conclusion that I find regrettable.
The shrine of Yodogawa-gumi is located in Iwatei, Toga Mountain—a small hill in Inooka Village approximately one ri southwest of Tsuruoka City—and is called Inooka Daigongen. Its enshrined deities are Toyooka Hime-no-Kami, Waka Hiko Rei-no-Kami (possibly an error for "Waka"), Naruikazuchi-no-Kami, Ōyamatsumi-no-Kami, and Takao-no-Kami—five kami in total. Thus, it might more aptly be described as a shrine associated with dragon deities, and "Toga" may possibly be an abbreviation of "Ogami."
Since the enshrined deity of Toga Shrine must be Ukanomitama-no-Kami, the fact that local people had proclaimed it to be a shrine of Inari Daimyōjin demonstrates faithful preservation of ancient traditions, proving that this Inari shrine is indeed the Engishiki-listed Toga Shrine.
This deity was originally the god of rice and millet—particularly rice—but later came to be revered as the god of the five grains.

Furthermore, on the western coast of Tsuruoka lies Kamomachi—a small port convenient for mooring small boats. Currently, there is no shrine to the Kamo deity in this town; however, I consider there was one in ancient times. Kamo derives from hamo in the Chiam language, meaning rice field. Indeed, in Malay, upland rice is called *huma*. The deity of Kamo is none other than the great god of rice fields. Kamo is a place name found abundantly across many provinces.

Moreover, along the Seto Inland Sea coasts of Awaji and Iyo exist place names like Fukura or Fukuura. These are said to originate from the Chiam term *Pakrön*—a phonetic corruption meaning something akin to "local governor." In Tokyo Bay areas near Yokosuka and Kisarazu too existed an old place name Fukura. I believe Fukuura at the mouth of the Fukura River on Shōnai Plain's northern edge shares this same linguistic origin.

Having investigated this far—when considering what people left these place names—it becomes certain they were not the Ainu (Emishi) who populated this region. I posit these were the Chiam people, one of Japan's primordial ethnic groups. Belonging to the Malayo-Polynesian family, they shared lineage with Philippine Island peoples. This population had originally settled in Izumo before being gradually displaced northward by Tungusic-affiliated Izumo clans, eventually landing at Kamo where they enshrined rice field deities, named the Shōnai Plain "Ichiha," and consecrated it as divine ground through what became Ideha Shrine of Ichiha-no-Kami. They further established Ukanomitama-no-Kami's worship along the Akagawa River, venerated Tsukuyomi-no-Mikoto—agriculture's supreme deity—before Mount Gassan's southeastern majesty, and paid homage to Ōmonoimi-no-Kami (likely chief ritualist for Tsukuyomi) facing Mount Chōkai's smoke-plumed northeastern prominence. Thus rooted in this plain, they developed regional administrative centers at Fukuura and beyond. Daishizaki north of Fukuura—originally Mishizaki—hosts Misaki Shrine dedicated to Susanoo-no-Mikoto; this maritime deity too found reverence among these new settlers, I contend. Yet agriculture then remained rudimentary—dry fields dominated cultivation, settlements clinging to flood-safe foothills. As the Chiam prioritized farming over hunting while the Ainu lacked agrarian knowledge altogether, violent clashes between them likely never materialized.

Mount Gassan derived its name from being consecrated to Tsukuyomi-no-Mikoto, while the designation Mount Chōkai remained absent from ancient records, where only Ōmonoimi-no-Kami was documented. The earliest material evidence of this name emerged in the inscription on the temple bell at Warabioka Shrine:

"Dedicated to Mount Chōkai: Wani-kuchi ichikuchi

Righteous patron Hagiwara Morishige [prays for] health and longevity

加右故

Ryakuō 5th Year, Mizunoe-Uma (Wood Horse), 7th Month, 26th Day, Haku"

As noted in *Fudoryakki* (Brief Topographical Record), local inhabitants referred to Ōmonoimi's sacred peak as the Northern Mountain. Could this have been Mount Chōkai's former appellation? The text further records...

The villages of Shōnai formed summer pilgrimage associations called O-kita-kō.

It merely states this.
Ryakuō was a Northern Court era name whose fifth year corresponded to Emperor Go-Murakami's third year of Kōkoku, with the era name being changed to Kōei on April 28th.
It appears this change had not reached Dewa Province even by July.
While it is certain that Mount Chōkai came to be called as such around the Nanboku-chō period, I know of no credible theory adequately explaining its naming.
One might conjecture that as the Chōkai clan expanded their influence over Warabioka Shrine, they propagated an origin story invoking a spiritual bird to establish the mountain's name—but I shall leave this question open pending future investigation.

Mount Haguro occupied the highest point among the hills demarcating the eastern boundary of the Shōnai Plain, where Dewa Shrine stood enshrined. Though its enshrined deity was recorded as Ukanomitama-no-Kami, since this was the Ideha Shrine listed in the Engishiki, I believe it originally enshrined Ichiha-no-Kami as previously discussed. However, when Toga Shrine by the Akagawa River later declined and more worshippers began visiting Ideha Shrine, its enshrined deity eventually became Ukanomitama-no-Kami—Ichiha-no-Kami was forgotten, leaving only the shrine's name preserved in memory—is this not what transpired? That even Ōmonoimi Shrine's deity was similarly changed to Ukanomitama-no-Kami serves in turn as corroborating evidence for how the plain's development gradually progressed. In any case, one could say this precisely aligns with the psychological disposition expected from successors of a people who had revered Tsukuyomi-no-Mikoto as their principal deity.

However, with the emergence of medieval Shugendō, they soon modeled themselves after Kumano by proclaiming Haguro, Gassan, and Yudono as the Three Gongen; likening Haguro to Kumano and designating the approach from there as the main path, while comparing Yudono to Yoshino and calling the approach from there "reverse entry."
As this developed extensively, the name Haguro yamabushi came to wield considerable influence among yamabushi circles.
There can be no doubt that the reason why the mountain came to be called Haguro derived from the belief that the gongen's messenger was a three-legged crow.
That crow was likely also modeled after the messenger of Kumano Gongen.

Mount Bandai

Mount Bandai was formerly called Iwahashi-yama, as it was revered as the deity of stone seats, with an entry in *Montoku Jitsuroku* (*The Veritable Records of Emperor Montoku*) from the first month of Saikō 2 (855) stating:

"Kinoe-Tori.
Conferred upon the deity of Iwahashi in Mutsu Province the rank of Junior Fourth Rank, Lower Grade."

The aforementioned entry constitutes that very instance.
In the Engishiki:

"Gamagun District: One minor shrine"

Iwahashi Shrine

it states.
Gama is now written as Yama.
The origin of that county named Yama ultimately lies in none other than the existence of this mountain.
The shrine is currently splendidly preserved north of Inawashiro Town, with its treasured mirror bearing an inscription that reads:

Dedicated to Iwahashi Daimyōjin Original True Form: One Aspect

The aforementioned devotee(s), for the fulfillment and perfection of heartfelt prayers extending to the equal benefit of all beings in the Dharma realm, hereby reverently dedicate [this] as stated above.

[Einin 3, intercalary 2nd month, 18th day. A woman of the Fujiwara clan. Respectfully submitted.]
is recorded.
Could the missing characters be the two-character phrase "依而"?
The Einin era being Emperor Fushimi's reign name, this dates from 634 years before now.

Hashi originally meant “boat,” while fune referred to containers—evidenced by examples such as yu-fune (hot water vessels), sake-fune (sake casks), and uma-fune (horse troughs), with even coffins being called fune. The term o-funeiri (imperial boat-entering ceremony), used when the Emperor’s sacred remains were enshrined in the imperial coffin following his demise, attests to this.
The fact that hashi means “boat” is known from how small boats shuttling between shore and large ships are called hashike.
In short, hashi is the name for tools used to cross water, with both movable and immovable varieties existing.
Considering this, the Iwahashi deity did seem related to Lake Inawashiro, but even stone boats and stone bridges offered no viable interpretation.
However, while *hashi* referred to something laid horizontally and flatly, objects spanning vertically were also called *hashi*, with the latter distinguished as *hashitate*—later becoming the term for ladders. Thus, Iwahashi was considered an abbreviation of *ishi no hashitate* (stone vertical span), deriving its name from the mountain’s abrupt, towering form.
Alternatively, in Southern Oceanic languages, *hashi* signified “path”—for instance, Hashirimizu on the Miura Peninsula being *hashi-mizu*, meaning “water crossing” (literally “water path”)—thus Iwahashi could also be interpreted as “a rocky path soaring to the heavens.”
Later on, when “hashigo” (梯), sharing the same kun reading, came to substitute for “hashi” (椅), “ishi” (石) became “iwa” (磐), and it came to be phonetically read as “Bandai”—though exactly when this occurred remains unclear, it was certain to have been after Einin 3.

Mount Ishizuchi

Mount Ishizuchi is also known as Iyo's Lofty Peak, and like Mount Bandai, its ancient name was Ihatsuchi—a designation derived from the deity Ihatsuchi enshrined at its summit.
In the lower volume of *Nihon Ryōiki* (*Record of Miraculous Events in Japan*), it states:
"In Iyo Province's Kanno District lies a mountain named Mount Ishizuchi; this name originates from the Ishizuchi deity enshrined there. The mountain stands precipitously high—ordinary people cannot ascend it—only purified practitioners may reach its peak and dwell there."
The text further records in the May entry of Kashō 3 (850) in *Montoku Jitsuroku* (*The Veritable Records of Emperor Montoku*):

As elders have traditionally recounted: In Iyo Province’s Kanno District, there once was a revered monk named Shakuzen, acclaimed as a holy man; he had a disciple called Jōsen who resided atop the mountain. This disciple’s ascetic practices surpassed even Shakuzen’s own, and all manner of spirits obeyed his every command.

The text records that this Jōsen was later reborn as Prince Kannō and ascended to the throne as Emperor Saga—alongside various other strange occurrences—though these baseless fabrications remain unworthy of belief.
However, there can be no doubt that this Shakuzen was identical to Saint Sekisen who founded Yokomine-ji Temple and pioneered Mount Ishizuchi.
According to *Nihon Ryōiki*, since he belonged to Emperor Shōmu’s era, we know this mountain’s opening likewise dates back to ancient times.

The *tsuchi* in Ihatsuchi, like *tsutsu*, derives from the Southern Oceanic term *čuči* (Čuči), meaning "elder," which came to be used for positions such as chieftain or headman. Examples include Ikatsuchi (thunder), Kagutsuchi (fire deity), Takemikazuchi (the martial deity), Shihatsuchi (ship captain), and Natsuchi (local chief).
It was called Ihatsuchi in the sense of being the foremost among rocky mountains; this designation undoubtedly derived from the exposed rocks near its summit.

Mount Tsukuba

Mount Tsukuba stood as Kantō's celebrated peak; likely no resident of the eastern provinces remained ignorant of its name. Edo-period poets and literati not only favored snow-clad Fuji and violet-tinged Tsukuba as subjects for their verses, but since the distant Manyoshu era, these twin peaks had stood paired as eastern Japan's most poeticized mountains. In Volume 9 of the Manyoshu appeared three long poems composed by Takashi Mushimaro upon climbing Mount Tsukuba—among these, the work created when accompanying Tax Inspector Lord Ōtomo during their ascent:

"In Hitachi where sleeves billow free,
Two-peaked Tsukuba's form we see,
My lord approached with ardent stride,
Sweat-drenched brows we scorned to hide,
Clutching roots we scaled steep trails,
Revealing crests where vision sails,
The male god granted full consent,
The goddess too her blessing lent,
Through timeless rains and cloud-wrapped air,
Tsukuba's ridge shone crystal-clear,
The land's full wonder laid so bare,
In joy we loosened sashes there,
Like home's warm ease our hearts set free,
Though spring's soft sway gave way to see
Summer grasses thickly grown,
This day's delight stood ours alone."

Thus, it becomes clear that Tsukuba's twin peaks had been revered as male and female deities since ancient times. The Nijōzan found in various regions is also called Nishinoyama, indicating that two peaks stand towering side by side.

Regarding the origin of Tsukuba, there were two or three differing theories. Tsukuha derives from Tsukuma (佃間), where a branch of the Takamagahara people—having migrated early to this region—drove out the Emishi, gradually expanded their territory, and established Tsukuma in the Kinu River basin (now called the Kogai River), thereby initiating rice cultivation. One theory posits that this Tsukuma became Tsukuba, evolving from a place name into a mountain name, while another theory suggests that it derives from the Ainu word *tsukupa*, meaning “towering head.” When viewed westward from the eastern bank of the Koisagawa River, the twin peaks of Mount Tsukuba overlap to form a single sharp summit piercing sharply into the heavens—making it seem only natural that the Tsukupa theory emerged. However, I infer that this derives from the Chiam language term *Tsukuha*, with the mountain name having been derived from the place name.

In Hitachi Province, particularly in the mountainous areas centered around Mount Tsukuba, there are not few place names and religious relics that appear related to Southern Oceanic peoples. From where did they enter the country?
They may have come from Tokyo Bay in dugout canoes, using Mount Tsukuba as a landmark and following river courses to reach Lake Kasumigaura, or they may have taken an overland route.
Furthermore, it is also conceivable that they came from Kujūkuri, rounded Inubōsaki, and entered Lake Kasumigaura from Chōshi.
The village name Kurohai at the eastern tip of Chōshi Cape likely originated from the name of the reef cluster offshore before later becoming the village’s name. The terms "hai" or "hae"—old Korean words primarily denoting offshore reefs and occasionally capes—are most prevalent along the Japan Sea coast in areas like San’indō’s Izumo region, distributed across Kyushu and the Seto Inland Sea, with scattered instances along Kii Province’s southern coast. Their presence near Chōshi is uncommon, and their adoption as a terrestrial place name here is rarer still.
It was likely named by a faction of the Takamagahara people—who revered Takemikazuchi-no-Kami and had pacified the Kashima-Katori region—when they entered Lake Kasumigaura by sea.
I consider the migration of Southern Oceanic peoples to have occurred even earlier than that; however, they appear to have left traces of their distinctive serpent worship everywhere, and among the residents of Hitachi, these customs had become deeply ingrained.
Ishioka Town’s Murakami Village in the northwest with its Dragon Deity Mountain; the myth of Hojiga Mountain (now called Asabusa-san) at the eastern-western boundary of Ibaraki District; the Yato-no-Kami of Tamatsukurishinden in Namegata District; and the Ōgami-gō of Nihari District (an area spanning present-day Kasama Town, Yamanouchi, Naka, and others in West Ibaraki District)—
(As for Ogami, this has been discussed in the section on Mount Ryōkami), and the Ryūjin Shrine at Yatsurugami in Shimogō Valley of Makabe District, along with the Ryūjin Shrine in Nakamura Village of Nihari District and others—all these indicate communities that practiced dragon deity worship. At the same time, there can be no doubt that there were also peoples who venerated Tsukuyomi-no-Mikoto, the lunar deity of agriculture: the former being Mon-Khmer peoples, and the latter Chiam peoples.

When examining the Hitachi no Kuni Fudoki (Records of Hitachi Province), the entry for Ibaraki District states:

From the southwest of the district lies the Shinchiku River near its border—its source springs from Mount Tsukuba—flowing west to east through the district's heart until emptying into Takahama Sea.

There existed such a record.
The county has since become Nihari, and the river is now called the Koisagawa.
However, as the village of Shitsuki still stands on the right bank of the river’s midstream, it could be inferred that this waterway was the ancient Shinchiku River.
The place name Shinchiku later gained renown through poetry celebrating sites like Shitsuki Mountain and Shitsuki Forest, and also appears in Takashi Mushimaro’s chōka from Volume 9 of the *Manyoshu*—

With grass for pillow,

has been incorporated as such.
If one asks why this village—not particularly scenic—became so renowned and has maintained its fame through later ages, I infer it stems not only from being the earliest developed land in this vicinity but also from the fact that a grand shrine venerating the lunar deity once existed here.
I recently visited there twice, searching to see if the Tsukuyomi Shrine remained, but I only managed to find an Inari Shrine in Nakashitsuki, and regrettably, my objective was not achieved.
Even though the god of agriculture and the god of the five grains are not entirely unrelated, there is something vaguely unsatisfactory about this connection.
However, considering that even the Fudoki contains no records about this matter, it may be that by that time, not only had the shrine been lost, but even oral traditions had not been preserved.

The designation Shitsuku exists in various provinces such as Awaji, Nagato, Bitchū, and Mino; however, it is said that Tsukushi—another term for Kyushu—was likely the original source.
In the Chiam language, "Si" is an honorific title; "Tuk" means "moon," and "Sick" thus refers to the lunar deity.
In India, the moon has been deeply revered as a deity of agriculture since ancient times, and the Chiam people—also tropical inhabitants—must have inherited this tradition and migrated here.
Thus, because the great lunar deity was enshrined in Shitsuki, this plain came to be called Tsukuha (Tuk-ha) in the sense of "the plain where the moon god resides," which became the place name for the surrounding area; it was likely from this place name that the mountain came to be known as Mount Tsukuba.

Mount Ryōkami

Mount Ryōkami has the alternative name Yōkamiyama and is also called Ryūjinzan or Ryūtōzan.
This mountain presents a strikingly grotesque appearance when viewed from afar, but when climbed, it does not feel particularly rocky—likely due to its dense tree growth.
The summit, known as Nokogiridake ("Sawtooth Peak"), forms a narrow rocky ridge as its name suggests. At its highest point stand two or three stone statues, while a triangulation marker occupies a small flat area slightly lower to the north—no larger than a single tsubo (approx. 3.3㎡). Descending five or six chō (550-660m) eastward reveals two wooden shrines.
My guide Yamanaka Fusakichi of Nakatsugawa Village explained that the shrine in the southwest was built by Komori Village and the one in the northeast by Susono Village, with both shrines facing toward their respective villages.
However, the Susono Village section of the *Shinpen Musashi no Kuni Fudokikō* (New Edition Musashi Province Topography) states:

Ryōkami Myōjin Shrine is a small shrine facing east, serving as the tutelary deity of both Susono and Shiraisashi villages.
The enshrined deities are Izanagi-no-Mikoto, Izanami-no-Mikoto, and so forth.
Regular festivals: April 8th, September 19th.
The bettō of Kanzōin resides in Ōtani at the foot of the mountain.
The mountain's Shugendo practitioners are under the jurisdiction of Amaterasu Temple in Annaka-shuku, Midorino District, Jōshū.

The Ryōkami Gongen Shrine appeared slightly smaller and newer than the Myōjin Shrine; it was situated behind the Myōjin Shrine and faced south. This shrine also served as the tutelary deity for both villages as before, enshrining two noble deities et cetera. The regular festival was held on the same dates as before. The bettō of Kongōin resided in Konaurashima. The main mountain Shugendo practitioners were under the jurisdiction of Yamamoto-bo in Oosego Village, Iruma District.

However, there were some discrepancies between this account and Fusakichi's testimony. Shiraisashi could also be written as Shiraisashi and was originally a branch village of Nakatsugawa. It was now merged with the villages of Susono and Komori and incorporated into Ryōkami Village, but geographically, it should have belonged to the former Komori Village. Therefore, if Fusakichi’s account was not mistaken, it appeared they had slightly altered the old custom at some point, with Susono Village building the Myōjin Shrine and Komori Village building the Gongen Shrine.

From the fact that both shrines enshrine Izanagi and Izanami, I had inferred—and in writing my travelogue *Summer in the Depths of Chichibu*—had concluded with certainty that "while this mountain bears alternative names such as Yōkamiyama and Ryūtōzan, it becomes evident that these are ultimately corruptions of Ryōkamiyama." This was, at minimum, a hasty assumption resulting from my failure to consult the entry for Kawarazawa Village in the same *Musashi no Kuni Fudokikō*, and for this, I am profoundly ashamed.

Next, I will reprint the crucial article in question.

Mount Yōkami lies southwest of the village, with an ascent of fifty-eight chō; it is a rugged, lofty mountain.
On the mountain, the Ryūjin Daimyōjin Shrine was enshrined; it serves as the village’s tutelary deity, with its annual festival held on the first day of the ninth month.
The Shinto priest Takano Iga was under the jurisdiction of the Yoshida family.
From this Shinto priest, amulets for protection against fire and theft were issued, et cetera.
Now, this mountain straddles both this village and Susono Village, and even in Susono Village, two shrines—the Ryōkami Gongen and Ryōkami Myōjin—were enshrined on the mountaintop.
In this village, it is called Yōkamiyama; since they enshrine the Ryūjin Shrine here, it is also referred to as Ryūjinzan. In Susono Village, it is called Ryōkamiyama—all differ in written characters but share the same pronunciation.

The compilers of the *Fudokikō* either failed to notice that the origin story they excerpted at that location wrote "Ryūtō Daimyōjin" (Dragon-Head Great Deity) while merely recording the enshrined deity as "Ryūjin Daimyōjin" (Dragon Deity) or "Ryūjin Shrine," or perhaps they noticed but could not comprehend its significance—resulting in the critical omission of the "head" character.
This is an important matter, but I will discuss it later.
According to Fusakichi’s account, descending north from the summit brings one to what is called Ryūtōzan, which is referred to as Mount Ryūgami.
That undoubtedly refers to the site where Kawarazawa Village enshrines Ryūtō Daimyōjin.
However, they likely still pronounced it as Yōkami or Ryōkami.

I had never seen any map documenting the mountain name Ryūtō ("Dragon Head"), but it was a noteworthy discovery to find one sheet among the numerous Musashi maps submitted by Mr. Yoshida that were displayed at our society’s commemorative convention. However, having misplaced the paper fragment on which I had copied the author and publication date, I am unable to present it here. That said, in the "Musashi" section of Sakai Hyōzō’s *Dai Nippon Ittō Yoji Bunkokuzu* (Comprehensive Provincial Maps of Greater Japan), published in August 1877, the mountain name is clearly recorded—though its positional relationship to Yōkamiyama appears markedly distant. Moreover, through subsequent ascents I later learned that the shrine of Ryūtō Daimyōjin is not situated on the mountainside or summit, but rather constitutes a small wooden sanctuary enshrined in the saddle. When viewed from Kawarazawa, the sharp peak west of that saddle seemed to correspond to Ryūtōzan; however, dense clouds unfortunately obscured visibility at that time, rendering confirmation impossible.

From this observation, it became clear that in Kawarazawa Village, there existed not the slightest tradition of venerating the two noble deities Izanagi and Izanami as enshrined gods.

If my reasoning contains no grave errors, Mount Ryōkami should be identified as either Ryūjinzan ("Dragon Deity Mountain") or Ryūtōzan ("Dragon Head Mountain"). Not only does this mountain bear no connection whatsoever to the noble pair Izanagi and Izanami, but the tradition of venerating a dragon deity here proves both ancient and true to its origins. Moreover, the mountain name Yōkamiyama ("Eight-Day Visible Mountain") appears closer to its primordial appellation.

This indicates that the dragon deity became bifurcated into two deities, leading to the subsequent enshrinement of Izanagi and Izanami.

Mountains bearing the name "dragon deity" exist throughout various regions. While some likely acquired this designation after Buddhism's introduction through new enshrinement practices, there can be no doubt—judging from surrounding toponyms—that many derive from beliefs persisting since primordial times.

A notable nearby example would be Mount Ryūjin situated approximately one ri (about four kilometers) northwest of Ishioka Town, the former provincial capital of Hitachi.

Yet even among mountains sharing this draconic veneration, one finds no other instances of names bearing pronunciations akin to Yōkami or similar variants.

Regarding the origin of the mountain name Yōkami, according to the tradition of Kawarazawa Village,

The name Mount Yōkami originates from when Prince Yamato Takeru, during his eastern campaign to subjugate the barbarians, conducted an imperial inspection tour of the eastern provinces by land and sea. He ascended Mount Tsukuba to offer prayers for the barbarians' defeat and, gazing into the distance, beheld among the interconnected peaks a particularly prominent mountain situated in the northwest direction. Having remained visible for eight days thereafter, he proclaimed this mountain to be named Mount Yōkami ("Eight-Day Visible Mountain").

As stated, in Susono Village:

"Mount Ryōkami bears this name from enshrining the two deities Izanagi-no-Mikoto and Izanami-no-Mikoto; it is also recorded under the alternative name Yōkamiyama. According to local lore, during Prince Yamato Takeru’s ancient campaign to subjugate the eastern barbarians, when he became involved in this district, viewed this mountain, and had them pass through for eight days—hence it came to be named Tsuku."

Thus, while there were some discrepancies between the traditions, both accounts concurred that it was named Mount Yōkamiyama because it remained visible for eight days. This served as evidence that this mountain’s name was anciently called Yaukami. No—it was clear that even this name Yaukami did not preserve its primordial form; however, I believed it to be closest to the original appellation. When considering the basis of this name, there could be no doubt that it derived from Ogami, referring to the serpent deity—what Buddhist scriptures call the Dragon King. To rephrase this, it was none other than the Yamata-no-Orochi.

According to the traditions recorded in the *Kojiki*, Izanami-no-Mikoto gave birth to Kagutsuchi-no-Kami, and because of this, she retired to the realm of the dead.
Thereupon, Izanagi-no-Mikoto drew the ten-span sword he wore and severed the neck of Kagutsuchi-no-Kami.
At that time, various gods came into being from the spurting blood, and it is stated that the name of the deity who formed from the blood that gathered at the hilt of the august sword and seeped out is Yamigami-no-Kami.
The *Nihon Shoki* also contains several traditions; although all differ slightly, they are terms meaning "serpent," that is, "dragon deity."
The term "Orochi" could also be said to derive from the Chiam language's "Alačei"—another honorific for serpents—that persisted as "Orochi." Furthermore, in our national language, ancient people referred to things that evoked a mystical sensation as "chi."
Blood, milk, mouth—these are examples of such terms.
Serpents are also referred to as chi; it can be said that those dwelling in water are called mizuchi, while those inhabiting mountains are termed orochi (where "wo" signifies "peak" and "chi" is a particle).

Among the indigenous peoples of ancient Japan was a tribe that called themselves Wa, who appear to have resided from Kyushu in the west to the Kanto region in the east.
Among these groups, those inhabiting Kyushu interacted with regions such as Nangnang in Korea—then a Chinese colony—resulting in accounts of Wa people appearing in the *Wei Zhi Dongyi Zhuan* (Records of Eastern Barbarians in the Wei Annals), now regarded as the oldest documentation concerning Kyushu's inhabitants.
According to Dr. Tsuboi’s theory, these Wa shared ancestry with indigenous groups currently inhabiting coastal forests along eastern Siam’s Mekong River and Cambodia—representatives of two ancient nations called Mon and Khmer (i.e., Cambodia)—collectively termed Mon-Khmer.
This ethnic group was said to have been indigenous across former India’s interior until displaced by southward migrations of the Liao people—Siam’s ancestors—from Yunnan, who pressured them into dispersing across various regions.
The indigenous people dwelling in vast forested zones along both Mekong banks still maintain an ancient lifestyle today, preserving customs, beliefs, and a language nearly unchanged from primordial times.
Not only do similar customs and beliefs appear among Japan’s ancient people, but linguistic elements survive in modern colloquial speech.
Despite this continuity, Mon-Khmer’s relatively scarce place-name legacy has been interpreted as evidence of their failure to establish substantial cultural dominance.

The Mon-Khmer are a serpent-worshiping people who enshrine Nakurachi (Dragon King) as their principal deity, depicted in the form of a single body with seven heads.
According to Indian mythology, Naga have three, seven, or ten heads.
The Khmer people revered the seven-headed one among them as their chief deity.
In Japan, it is transmitted as having eight or nine heads.
It refers to the eight-headed serpent Yamata-no-Orochi or the nine-headed dragon avatar Kuzuryū Gongen, who was vanquished by Susanoo-no-Mikoto upstream on the Hino River in Izumo.
When one reads Greek mythology, it is written that Hercules vanquished a nine-headed water serpent in the Lerna Swamp; this is likely the same primitive Khmer belief transmitted westward.
According to the accounts in the *Kojiki* and *Nihon Shoki*, the Yamata-no-Orochi is said to have had one torso, eight heads, and eight tails.
This account provides several appropriate explanations, but given that the location was in the Izumo region—which later became a settlement area for peoples like the Chiam and Izumo faction Tungusic—such a myth emerged; in essence, does it not narrate how the people who worshipped Yamata-no-Orochi as their principal deity were subjugated by those who revered Susanoo-no-Mikoto as theirs?

The myth of serpent subjugation exists nowhere outside Izumo; however, shrines venerating the Dragon King—that is, the thunder deity—are found throughout various regions.
However, as dragon king worship declined in later ages, there must have been cases where the enshrined deities changed; thus, I believe that when these are included, they would amount to a considerable number nationwide.
Izumo was the first settlement of the Mon-Khmer people who rode a branch current of the Kuroshio to advance into the Japan Sea region; thus, there must have been a grand shrine there. However, as previously mentioned, when a powerful later-arriving nation took root, its traces were likely eradicated.
Even so, in neighboring Bingo Province, Takaikami Shrine in Eso District and Ikami Shrine in Konu District were listed in the *Engishiki*.
Furthermore, I believe that among the numerous Mount Ryūō peaks existing along the Kibi coast bordering the Seto Inland Sea or in nearby regions, a significant number pertain to dragon king worship among the Khmer people.
Among extant shrines, the largest was Nibu Kawakami Shrine enshrined in Nibu, Minami-Yoshino Village of Yoshino District in Yamato Province; next stood Kibune Shrine in Kibune Village of Atago District in Yamashiro Province.
Nibu Kawakami Shrine had been ranked as an imperially funded grand shrine and was deeply revered since the Nara period as a rain deity renowned for its potent divine efficacy.
The enshrined deity was also called Yami no Mizuhanome-no-Kami and is now established as two deities: Yamigami-no-Kami and Takagami-no-Kami.
The "mi" in Mitsuha means rain while "tsuha" corresponds to tuhan—the Malay word for deity. These three deities—Yamigami-no-Kami, Takagami-no-Kami, and Yami no Mizuhanome-no-Kami—are none other than rain gods born from Kagutsuchi-no-Kami.
In Book 2 of the *Man'yōshū*, there exists an imperial poem bestowed by Emperor Tenmu upon Fujiwara no Fujin.

In my village heavy snow has fallen; would that it fall later upon Ohara’s village where snow once fell.

To this, Fujiwara no Fujin humbly composed in response:

Having spoken to the dragon deity of my hill, the crushing snow I bade fall—there did it scatter.

Poems such as these preserve both evidence that the dragon deity was a rain god and remnants of that faith.

The Mon-Khmer who advanced eastward from Kyushu through the Seto Inland Sea likely established their dwelling in the distinct realm near Gojōmachi after ascending the Kino River; however, being gradually pressured by later downstream settlers who had crossed over, or seeking mountainous areas more suitable for their livelihood, those who concealed themselves deeper upstream were recorded in the Emperor Ōjin chapter of the *Nihon Shoki*.

As for the people of Fukokusō, their nature was profoundly simple and unsophisticated; daily they would gather mountain fruits to eat, and also boiled toads as their supreme delicacy, naming this dish Mōmi.

Thus, one faction presumably ascended the Kurotaki River—that is, the Niu River—and left traces of serpent worship in Niu.
The *Engishiki* records Ikami Shrine in Sennan District of Kawachi Province, Ikami Shrine in Izumi District of Izumi Province, and Ikami Shrine in Hine District of the same province; thus, it can be said that the mountainous regions of Izumi and Kawachi preserve pronounced traces of serpent worship.
In addition to place names containing Naga or Kura—of which many relate to dragon deities—I shall omit further discussion here and focus solely on Kura. This term may derive from: 1) Kura meaning "to sit" or "lie" (as in seat or saddle); 2) Kura seemingly transformed from "tiger" into a general term for wild beasts (evident in the hunting term Karikura); or 3) Kura as an archaic dialect for "rock." Among these, it is likely the last meaning that became established in place names.
Whether this "kura" shares its origin with the Malay *kula* (rock) or derives from "kuri"—a term seemingly of Korean origin referring to reefs—is difficult for me to determine. However, "kuri" shares its root with "kure" (lump), and it is likely that chestnuts came to be called "kuri" precisely because they form such compact masses.
What I found particularly intriguing was the famous Daijakura of Mount Ōdaigahara—a name given to a magnificent rock face. I had considered that it acquired the name Daijagura through descriptive qualities—being a place where a giant serpent might dwell or inspiring awe through its terrifying appearance. However, it appears more accurate to view this not merely as such, but rather that as the synonymous relationship between kura and daija (serpent) became forgotten, the compound term Daijakura emerged. Since this corresponded to the kura of the rock face, it seems most appropriate to regard it as having been directly applied to describe the geological feature.
From Fujiwara in Jōshū Province to Tsuchidaru in Echigo and Akiyama in Shinshū, waterfalls are referred to as 'sen,' but in some regions, this is combined with 'taki' to form the compound name 'Sen no Taki' for waterfalls—a phenomenon that can be considered a similar example to Daijakura.
In the *Shōtoku Map* pertaining to Mr. Takahata’s collection, which covers the upper reaches of the Kanna River in Jōshū Province, the term Daijakurasawa (Great Serpent Storehouse Ravine) is recorded.
If one were to search further, there may well be others, but at present, I know of none beyond these two examples.

Now, regarding the Mon-Khmer people who made landfall along the coasts of Kawachi and Izumi from the Seto Inland Sea—one faction likely landed there and advanced into Yamato’s hinterland, while another proceeded eastward along the coastline to eventually reach Tokyo Bay; alternatively, some may have ridden the Kuroshio Current from southern Kyushu to drift ashore near the Izu Islands, then continued northward into Tokyo Bay. However, as they were not a seafaring people, I believe the former scenario was more probable.
In any case, they left traces of serpent worship along Tokyo Bay’s coast alongside the place name Kuraki—precisely as the Chiam people, who appeared to have migrated slightly later, left traces of moon deity worship in the place name Tsuzuki.
And just as it is now difficult to find Tsukuyomi shrines in Tsuzuki District, so too is it difficult to find dragon deity shrines in Kuraki District.
I examined the *Shinpen Musashi no Kuni Fudoki-kō* and finally managed to locate one site.
It is located in the Ōaza Shuku district of Mutsuura Shō Village.

Ryūjin Shrine: Tax-exempt land.
It was located on the mountainside in the same area (○Kitadani) and was a small shrine.
Tradition stated that divine punishment would surely befall anyone who touched the trees on the shrine grounds; thus, the villagers lived in fear and could not cut them down.
Village-maintained.

states.
In connection with this, what carries Southern Oceanic associations is Imomyō Shrine located in Ōaza Tomioka of neighboring Kanazawa Village to the north, which is recorded as follows.

Imomyō Shrine was situated in the hamlet of Itabashi and served as a smallpox deity.
This name likely originated from a phonetic borrowing where "imoto"—the reading for "smallpox"—was rendered using the characters for "imo" (potato/taro) to write Imo Myōjin.
During the Kan’ei era, Moueimon—who served at Keisan-ji Temple within the village—struck down and killed a snake measuring approximately two ken (about 3.6 meters) near the temple grounds. The temple’s resident monk Denga took pity on it, bestowed a sutra upon the creature, and buried it outside the gate.
That night, the snake’s spirit manifested as a youth and entered Denga’s dream to declare: "Through the sutra’s merit, I have attained rebirth in heaven. Henceforth I shall protect those afflicted with smallpox in this world. In gratitude for this compassion, construct and dedicate a shrine to me." With these words, Denga awoke.
Come dawn, discovering a snakeskin at his bedside and deeming it an omen, he promptly erected a shrine to enshrine it as the smallpox deity, establishing Willow Kannon as its original Buddhist manifestation; and so forth.

The Sacred Potato existed in the pond before the shrine. The pond measured merely one ken square, with a single willow tree standing on a small islet at its center. It grew in the water there; though its form resembled white taro—commonly called lotus taro—it did not wither through the four seasons. Could this have been planted due to the divine appellation? If anyone broke or plucked this potato, an immediate curse would follow. Those afflicted with smallpox were said to surely recover if made to drink the pond water and pray.

The compiler of the *Fudoki-kō* imagined they had deliberately planted potatoes because it was called Imo Myōjin ("Potato Deity"), but this was undoubtedly a shrine that had venerated potatoes themselves. Taro served as a staple food among Southern Oceanic peoples, and judging from its growth in ponds, this may have been what we now recognize as taro—still an essential food source for Oceanic island communities today. That it came to be mistaken for a smallpox deity made for rather comical irony; however, as folk beliefs arose claiming that rubbing oneself with shed snake skins would alleviate smallpox symptoms, people likely felt compelled to kill snakes so their spirits might appear at one's bedside in dreams.

The Mon-Khmer people who had made their home in the forested regions of Musashino stretching from Tokyo Bay's coastline—unlike the Chiam, not being a primarily agricultural people—gradually advanced deeper into mountainous areas better suited to their livelihood and appear to have entered the Chichibu Basin along the Arakawa River.
Along the main stream of the Arakawa River, I had yet to discover any such place names, but along the banks of the Akabira River—centered around Shimoyoshida—a thick serpentine presence lingered in the air.
At Ōbuchi, where one parts from the Arakawa main stream, proceeding along the Akabira River brings one to Hisanaga; in Shimoyoshida stands Muku Shrine, to its south lies Nagura, and further south still is Nagatome.
Furthermore, Nagamata at the confluence of the Usu River and Komori River would typically be called Kawamata.
In the upper reaches of the Usu River, there is a hamlet called Kokura, and in the upper reaches of the Komori River, there is also a hamlet called Anakura.
Among these, what particularly deserve attention are Nakura and Nagatome; the former is thought to be an abbreviation of Nakurachi, and the latter of Nagarajya.
Moreover, there are many place names in this vicinity with unusual reading conventions, but I have yet to find a way to interpret them.

Muku Shrine in Shimoyoshida was one of only two Engishiki-listed shrines in Chichibu District, enshrining Sarutahiko-no-Mikoto according to its foundation legend. The account of its divine manifestation described how during Emperor Keikō's eastern expedition, when Yamato Takeru surveyed this land and planted his spear in a mountain path, the spear suddenly emitted light; following where this light flew and settled, an old man appeared declaring, "I am Sarutahiko-no-Mikoto; I have come here to offer guidance."
It further recorded that Tawara no Tōta Hidesato later invited the Kasuga Deity when subjugating Taira no Masakado.
There could be no doubt this foundation legend had been fabricated later in imitation of Sarutahiko-no-Mikoto's appearance during the heavenly grandson's descent.
I believe this shrine originally enshrined a dragon deity based on its name analysis.
Over time it declined into obscurity; they newly enshrined Sarutahiko-no-Mikoto as tutelary deity alongside Kasuga Myōjin through amalgamation, while I consider the dragon deity shrine on Mount Ryōkami preserved its ancient form.

The above was likely overly redundant and may have wearied readers; however, through these facts, I believe it has become clear that the existence of shrines dedicated to dragon deities in Chichibu’s remote mountains should by no means be doubted.

Therefore, I now return our discussion to the main subject of mountain names and commence my explanation of Yaukami.
Since this mountain's connection to the dragon deity had been established as previously mentioned, Yaukami represented a euphonic alteration of Yaogami, with "Ya" denoting the number eight.
According to the origin story of Kawarazawa Village,

"It is said that Ryūtō Daimyōjin removes all calamities and illnesses; commands retainers to ward off disasters of fire and theft; repels evil beasts such as wild boars, deer, and foxes that ravage fields and crops; and prevents afflictions for all people."

The fact that it was written as "Dragon Head" proved crucial; I inferred this referred to the dragon deity with a single body and eight heads—that is, Yamata-no-Orochi—and thus had been called Yaogami.
While one could interpret "Ya" similarly to its usage in "Yawoya"—simply denoting numerous heads—no approach remained more direct than taking it as the numerical eight in this context.

By way of preface, I would like to say a few words regarding the sacred dogs serving as retainers of Ryōkami Shrine. In Kawarazawa Village's origin story, it is merely stated that Ryūtō Daimyōjin commanded retainers without specifying their nature; however, the entry on Ryōkami Shrine in Usu Village records:

Now concerning those designated as this mountain deity's retainers who lent mountain dogs to ward off thieves and fire—a practice resembling Mitsumine-san's tradition though actually predating it—people from neighboring provinces and districts would come annually without fail to borrow these dogs. They would present monetary and cloth offerings, receive protective talismans, then return home. Considering how few talismans the Ryōbettō issued, one can well imagine their efficacy.

and it explicitly stated that they were mountain dogs.
This represented the characters assigned by the compiler of *Fudoki-kō* to what was colloquially called "sacred dogs," indicating what was referred to as Ohokami.
Given that there was also the fact that Kōshi Kameshō had killed a mountain dog on the Shinshu side at the foot of Mount Arafune, they likely inhabited that vicinity; however, there was no clear evidence of their presence in Chichibu.
Though they were now extinct, it was certain that mainland Japan had once been home to mountain dogs—a smaller subspecies of the Korean wolf—and the character for "wolf" had been assigned to these mountain dogs.
However, I did not believe they had been as numerous as had been widely rumored in society.
Despite there being no small number of articles written about wolves from as far back as the Nara period to as recently as the Meiji Restoration, in most cases they mentioned only a single wolf at a time, with rare instances of two; accounts of them forming packs were nowhere to be found outside the records in *Hokuetsu Seppu*.
In Tachibana Nankei’s *Tōyūki*, though he employed sensational characters like “The Demon of Ushū” right from the headline and wrote about wolves in a manner calculated to pique curiosity, upon reading it one found that these supposedly swarming wolves ultimately showed neither hide nor hair beyond mere rumor.
Nankei skillfully evaded this by claiming it had been because he had passed through with a large party.
There were a few articles recounting incidents where a parent and child had been attacked by a wolf in a mountain hut—the child struck down and killed the wolf that had bitten the parent, thus saving them and being honored as a filial child—but the wolf was always a single one.
Given this context, even if we spoke of the harm caused by wolves, it had likely been something limited in scale; yet through what might be called "one dog barking at nothing and ten thousand passing it on as truth," the matter had probably been exaggerated to an extreme degree in its dissemination.

In the "Sushun-ki" chapter of *Nihon Shoki*,

[They] destroyed the ancestral Tree-Leaf House of Kinunui-no-Miyatsuko in Asuka and began constructing Gokō-ji Temple; this place came to be named Asuka Makami-no-Hara and was also called Asuka Tomita.

There is an article that states..., and in the Yamato section of the *Collected Topographies of Various Provinces*,

In ancient times, there was an old wolf in the Asuka region; the locals called it Ōkuchi-no-Kami (Great-Mouthed Deity), hence the place was named Ōkuchi Makami-no-Hara (Great-Mouthed True Deity Plain).

It explained why it came to be called Makami-no-Hara, but since even when the Fudoki was compiled it was already spoken of as ancient times, this oral tradition was of considerable antiquity.
The account in the *Kinmei-ki* where Ōtsu Chichi of Hata stopped two wolves from fighting could be considered the earliest extant document concerning wolves; since his words at the time included "You are noble deities...," we may reasonably conclude that Ōkuchi Makami also referred to wolves.
In Chinese characters there exist 豺 (jackal) and 狼 (wolf), where 豺 is read as *yamainu* (mountain dog) and 狼 as *ōkami* according to established convention; however, when speaking of terms like "jackals-and-wolves" or "tigers-and-wolves," these carried the same meaning as what we now call "beastly"—thus one notices our country's Ōkami (that is, the sacred dogs) differed considerably in essential nature.
In common parlance, people tended to distinguish between mountain dogs and wolves, with those causing harm being referred to by the name "mountain dog."
The wolf was, so to speak, a mythical animal; in form, it resembled an artificially bred hunting dog like a greyhound but possessed marked spirituality.
Such a wolf could not possibly have existed on earth.
In my view, Ōkami represented a new deification of Ogami.
The deities resembled each other in divine nature, shared similarities in name, and bore a striking resemblance in form—particularly from the main head area to the neck—to dragons when their horns, beards, and scales were excluded; this could not be lightly overlooked. Moreover, the tradition of their feet having webbing indicated a connection to water and, by extension, to dragon deities.
The concept that certain animals served as messengers of particular deities appeared to have originated in our country's antiquity, with the first documentary evidence found in the *Kojiki*: when Yamato Takeru ascended Mount Ibuki and encountered a white boar, he proclaimed, "That which has taken the form of this white boar must surely be the messenger of its deity."
In the *Nihon Shoki*, it was a giant serpent in place of the white boar.
However, one could not help but think that associations such as the doves of Hachiman Shrine, the monkeys of Sannō Shrine, and the deer of Kashima Shrine were likely connected through mere phonetic wordplay.
And the messenger customarily remained solely as a mediator conveying divine will.
That it exhibited divine efficacy equal to that of the main deity—given there being no other examples besides the sacred dogs—led me to conclude that at least Ryōkami Shrine’s Ōkami represented the main deity Ogami having assumed a new form to become a retainer under the newly enshrined deities Izanagi and Izanami.

The shrines that issued Sacred Dog talismans included Ryōkami Shrine and Mitsumine Shrine, along with Nangū Shrine in Fuwa District, Mino Province, and Yamazumi Shrine in Suchi District, Tōtōmi Province.
Nangū Shrine was a national shrine enshrining Kanayamahiko-no-Mikoto; not only was its connection to dragon deities beyond doubt given its ancient designation as Nakayama Kanayamahiko-no-Kami, but considering that among its five enshrined deities stood Kurayamata-no-Kami and that subsidiary shrines dedicated to Kurayamata and Takayamata remain preserved today, it appears this had originally been a shrine rooted in dragon deity worship.
Yamazumi Shrine was located deep in Suzuka District's mountains and enshrined Ōyamazumi-no-Mikoto.
I regret knowing nothing of this shrine's origins and thus being unable to ascertain its connection to the sacred dogs; however, given the Tenryū River's profound ties to Khmer peoples, I believe this shrine venerated Yamata-no-Orochi—born from Kagutsuchi's blood like Kurayamata-no-Kami.

Having explained matters up to this point, I believe readers will have already surmised that the sacred dogs of Mitsumine Shrine provide precisely the same divine benefits as those of Ryōkami Shrine, demonstrating their shared origins. Therefore, we can conversely infer that the enshrined deity of the ancient Mitsumine Shrine was Ogami. According to foundation legends, Mitsumine Shrine's origins remain unclear. Historical documents from the Shinbutsu Bunri period indicate that during the Bunki era (1501-1504), a man named Tsukimichi Doman conceived plans to restore the dilapidated shrine buildings, completing reconstruction in the second year of Tenmon (1533). From the fact that in April of that year, the resident priest Ryūei traveled to Kyoto, received an audience with Shōgoin Temple's head priest, was granted the title of Mitsumine Daigongen, and subsequently became a Tendai Shugendō practitioner, we can reasonably infer without error that Mitsumine was modeled after the Kumano Sanzan triad—substituting Shiraiwa for Nachi-san and collectively designating these three peaks as Mitsumine along with Kumotori and Myōhō mountains. The Dairin Bridge spanning Dairin's trailhead being alternatively called Toryū Bridge carries profound significance. I maintain that the presence of Hiryū Gongen Shrine in Tanba Village—situated directly behind Mitsumine—serves as a compelling implication.

Furthermore, by way of preface, I would like to say a few words regarding Mount Igariyama in Niekawa Village.
Though "Ikari" is now written with characters meaning "boar hunting," this actually derives from the Southern Oceanic *ikari* denoting fish—indeed, in Malay, fish remains *ikan* to this day.
The location had been called Ikari as it served as a fishing ground for offerings to Mitsumine's dragon deity; eventually, they erected a shrine there that became Igari Myōjin, later relocating it to a nearby mountaintop whereupon the mountain came to be called Mount Igariyama.
Consequently, the new toponym "Niekawa"—signifying "the river where offering fish are caught"—superseded the original name.
As recorded in *Fudoki-kō*,

Mount Igariyama was located northwest of the village.
From the southeastern foothills near what was called Konaikoike Pond, one trod upon a mountain path of collapsed rocks or climbed the winding path of bedrock boulders; after traversing twenty-five chō to reach the summit, there lay a small flat area where stood a modest shrine enshrining Igari Myōjin.
At the shrine's precincts, hemlocks, pines, cypresses, and others grew thickly.

This mountain, though village-owned, was entrusted to Shōsen-in for its administration; the Myōjin had dogs as divine retainers. Many from neighboring villages came to pray and make pilgrimages, seeking to borrow these dogs, as they were said to prove efficacious in warding off fox-related afflictions or damage by wild boars and deer.
To borrow a dog, they presented offerings at Shōsen-in, received a protective talisman, and returned home.

The fact that they lent out spiritually efficacious sacred dogs as divine retainers, just as at Ryōkami and Mitsumine, was sufficient to understand that their relationship with Mitsumine had run deep.
(Showa 3.6 [1928], *Journey in the Mist*)