What Goes Bump in the Japanese Night?

One evening I found myself on a wooded hillside overlooking the old castle town of Tono in remote northern Japan. Surrounded by rice paddies and a broad valley, Tono is famed as the setting for Tono Monogatari (The Legends of Tono), a collection of decidedly spooky tales published nearly a century ago by folklorist Kunio Yanagita.

Drawn from local tradition, the stories describe long-nosed mountain goblins called tengu, water imps that impregnate women, and mysterious men who inhabit the forests. Thinking of these while descending a path toward Nambu Shrine, I suddenly saw a shadowy form some ten yards away in the gloom. It was on all fours, bigger than a dog, smaller than a horse but it wouldn’t scare like a deer. It was definitely watching me, and not at all afraid - unlike me. I whipped out my camera before beating a hasty retreat. The only things visible in the photo are a few branches and a pair of glowing eyes.

Kappa Yokai

I was convinced I’d just had a brush with a bona fide yokai, or Japanese monster. I was lucky to escape. If only I’d had a copy of Yokai Attack! The Japanese Monster Survival Guide, I would have known exactly what to do. Coauthored by Hiroko Yoda and Matt Alt, this new bestiary from Kodansha International is a supernatural smorgasbord for Japanophiles and other mere mortals alike. It’s a lovingly detailed look at bogeymen from across the archipelago that have given Japanese the creeps for thousands of years. But the format is fresh. The yokai are presented in military-style dossiers with tactical data and combat tips as well as lavish illustrations by Tatsuya Morino. Some are terrifying (women with long serpentine necks), some quietly creepy (eyes that appear in sliding paper screen doors), and some downright farcical (haunted futons and umbrellas), but they all testify to Japan’s rich animistic folk imagination. One of the most bizarre is the Ashiarai Yashiki, a filthy giant human leg that smashes its way into houses and demands to be washed. These creatures have long been celebrated by manga and anime artists like Shigeru Mizugi and inspired endless B-grade horror flicks like Toire no Hanako-san, about a ghostly schoolgirl that haunts the loo.

With Halloween just around the corner, I sat down with Yoda and Alt to discuss their perverse fascination in these eerie, bloodcurdling and wondrous strange bêtes noires - Japan’s yokai. 

Ukiyoe print of Tanuki attacking humans.

Tim Hornyak: Why write about yokai?
[HIROKO] I’ve always loved yokai, ever since I was a little girl. I’d been talking to Matt about wanting to do a yokai-related book of some kind for years before it happened. There is a treasure trove of information about them in Japanese, but very little in English, mostly books aimed at an academic audience. But yokai are supposed to be fun. We wanted to create something that was an informational resource yet still fun to read.

[MATT] The history of many yokai extends back for hundreds and in some cases even more than a thousand years, but their relative obscurity abroad ironically makes them sort of cutting edge there. They really are the final unexplored frontier of Japanese pop culture, which is incredible when you think about what an influence they’ve had on modern entertainment.

[HIROKO] There are references to yokai in all sorts of literature, films, and even daily Japanese life that sail over most foreigners’ heads. Few people realize that they’re experiencing the yokai tradition every time they eat a kappa maki sushi roll or see a tanuki statue outside of a Japanese restaurant. But that’s exactly what they are. Kappa love cucumbers, and tanuki are a symbol of good luck. And masks of Tengu, with red faces and long noses, are still found throughout Japan today.

What exactly is a yokai? What makes yokai unique compared to Western spooks, or even Japanese Shinto gods? What do they really represent?
[MATT] Yokai are the things that go bump in Japan’s night. They’re traditional creepy-crawlies, the sorts of things that inhabited Japanese fantasies—and nightmares—for generations. They run the gamut from strange ghost-like phenomena to humanoid or animal-like creatures and even haunted inanimate objects, like umbrellas or lanterns. Most aren’t tied to any specific religious belief, but—and this is what really sets them apart from Western monsters, I think—many of them are anthropomorphic descriptions of natural phenomena. Essentially, they’re superstitions with personalities.

Who is the book dedicated to?
[HIROKO] It’s dedicated to Setsuko Hearn, wife of Lafcadio Hearn, a Westerner who transcribed a great many Japanese ghost stories into English in the late 19th century. He didn’t speak Japanese, so he depended on his wife to pantomime and act out the scary stories for him. She played a vital role in his work but hasn’t gotten a lot of recognition for it, and I wanted to address that.

What was your scariest experience with yokai? Which of the 40-odd beasties in your book would you least like to bump into in a darkened rice field or back alley in Roppongi?
[HIROKO] When I was in grade school, my friends and I were obsessed with Kuchisake-Onna, the Slash-Mouthed Woman. She’s this creature that looks like a woman wearing a surgical mask. She ambushes children on their way home from school, peeling off the mask to reveal a fang-filled mouth that stretches from ear to ear. She’s a playground legend, and there was a huge fad for her back when I was a little girl. We didn’t exactly believe in her, but we didn’t disbelieve either. We’d spend hours talking about how to escape her, and what to do if she showed up. But the funny thing is, I actually wanted to run into her and test out all of our strategies. So I guess there aren’t really any yokai I wouldn’t like to meet!

Japan abounds with scary locales (e.g., Akihabara). What’s the best spot to hunt for yokai? Do yokai ever go on overseas trips, like to Alaska?
[MATT] Well, according to some reports, Nopperabo ("The Faceless Ones,” human beings with smooth, featureless faces) have been spotted in Hawaii. I guess even yokai need a vacation from time to time!

[HIROKO] Mount Takao, which is about an hour outside of Tokyo, was once believed to be home to ferocious creatures called Tengu. There is a temple dedicated to them there today, and it’s a major tourist destination. It’s a nice day trip.

Are there yokai otaku? Is there such a thing as yokaiology like Ufology?
[HIROKO] Not in the sense of people who are die-hard anime or manga otaku. But they definitely have their fans. They’re very popular among people who study folklore, I think.

[MATT] “Yokaiology” is actually the name of a 19th century effort to stamp out widespread belief in yokai and other superstitions. The people who study them now do so purely as scholars of folklore. Though Japan is like anywhere else: I’m sure there are a few “out-there” types who really do believe in kappa and such.

Do younger Japanese know about yokai? How have yokai been commercialized?
[HIROKO] Yokai are still incredibly popular among children today, largely thanks to the popularity of an anime called “Ge Ge Ge no Kitaro.” It was created by an artist named Shigeru Mizuki in the 1960s and has been a huge hit ever since. It’s sort of creepy, sort of silly, and a lot of fun. Parents watch it with their kids. There is a lot of interest in scary stories in Japan, even among children.

Which is your fave yokai?
[MATT] I love the Tsukumo-Gami, which are haunted tools and other implements that have taken sentient form after being discarded by their owners. They seem like the perfect sort of spooks for our modern consumer society.

Best defense against yokai?
[HIROKO] Stay out of the dark! Yokai love the dark. But there’s so little pure darkness in a super-modern country like Japan. There are lights and cities everywhere. So your chances of running into one, sadly, are probably much smaller now than in the past. From that standpoint, yokai are a symbol for the folk traditions Japan lost as we modernized.

Finally - Kappa vs. Karasu Tengu: which would you put your yen on?
[HIROKO] [Laughs] That’s like asking who would win in a fight between a gnome and a leprechaun, or something!  The whole concept of yokai fighting one another is kind of alien to me. It’s a lot easier for me to imagine them banding together and playing tricks on people than fighting among themselves. Because when you think about it, humans and urban sprawl are a bigger threat to yokai than they are to us. Actually, even though our book is a “survival guide,” a good number of yokai aren’t particularly dangerous at all. So a lot of what we talk about are strategies for co-existing or even appreciating them when they’re around.

Tim Hornyak is a contributing writer to Theme. He has written on Japanese culture, technology, and history for publications including Wired News, Scientific American, and the Far Eastern Economic Review. His technology blog can be read here.