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- [00:00]
Jason Weiser
Quick disclaimer. Today's episode is not for kids. I know some people listen with kids as young as eight or so. Please don't do that. And if someone put this on for you and left and you're like under maybe 13, I don't know. Don't listen to this. It's an actual horror story and it's messed up in places. Anyway, there's a disclaimer on mythpodcast.com for anybody who would like more info this week on Myths and Legends. It's the most famous ghost story in Japan and how someone can avoid most problems in life by just not being a horrible person. Who would have thought? The creature this week is Waterlord, the grocery store generic version of the Hydra. This is Myths and Legends, episode 391 Handsome Bad man this is a podcast where we tell stories from mythology and folklore. Some are incredibly popular tales you might think you know, but with surprising origins. Others are stories that might be new to you but are definitely worth a listen today. It is a ghost story from Japan, set in the 1600s but written during the twilight of the Edo period. This story has a different sort of interpretation on samurai and ronin and honor, but we'll get to that. We'll jump in though. At a toothpick Store Ume looked at the girl carving in the toothpick store. Ume had gone out that day to take her mind off that family, that man. But here she was. This must be new. Osure. Osure, Sister of Oiwa Oewa. Wife of. Wife of Iaemon Iem. No, no. Not. Not wife. Something had gone wrong. Some scandal. They weren't married, though they acted like it. Ume could hear them all hours through her bedroom wall. The fresh air in the city streets had dulled the pain for the walk over. Now she could think of only him. Only Iema girl Toothpicks Ittokihei. The doctor shifted at the counter, gesturing to the spot in front of him. Osore, not five feet away, kept carving. What is she doing? I know she heard me. I I know you heard me. Bring out the toothpicks. Come on. His hand slammed on the counter. You are from the Takano family, aren't you? Osode asked, smiling at being recognized. The old doctor nodded yes. Leave. Osode still didn't make eye contact. What did you just say to me? The man asked, his hand going to his sword at the mere suggestion of disrespect. Leave. Osode said. She wouldn't sell to any of the retainers of Kono Maranao Oh. Oh, I know you. Itokihei grinned. You're one of Saemon's girls. Are you the one who's separated from your husband? Or are you the one who is pregnant but doesn't have a husband? It's difficult to keep you all straight after. After all that happened. I'm sorry your daddy backed the wrong horse. Where is he now, by the way? Out begging by the shrines again. Ittokihei was seemingly so absorbed in twisting the knife and, oh, sore, so focused on readying hers to jam it in the samurai's neck that. That neither of them noticed Naosuke enter the shop himself, a young ronin or masterless samurai. In one motion, he stepped behind the counter and grabbed Osode's wrist before she could raise her hands to the samurai and risk losing them. This girl was just hired yesterday, and she doesn't even know the price of toothpicks. Nasuke said, his voice betraying no hint of fear at the argument that could at any moment devolve into bloodshed. She doesn't understand the complexities, Naosuke said. Osude said she understood just fine that this man's master betrayed her father's master. Her father's lord's household collapsed, and now he had to beg. She stopped. Ume looked and saw the man twisting her wrist. And you? Do you understand the complexities? Ittokihe asked. Nausuke brushed his cloak aside, revealing two swords. He said that those weren't how he made his living, though he sold medicines now, head gesturing to the cart outside, it was peaceful, unless he was passing a toothpick store. Nasuke sighed. He had been loyal to his master, but his master was dead, and now all that loyalty had gotten him was a medicine cart. He had no issue with what Ittokihei's master did at court. Nasuke said he would talk to the young woman. Ittokihe sneered. Alright. Well, as much as he should stay and hold this young woman to account for her words, this shop already had the opposite effect than its intentions. And his granddaughter Ume seemed more agitated than when they left. Come on. He put his arm around his granddaughter's back and continued on their pilgrimage to the shrine. You're fired is what Osore was expecting. And it was what she got. Her boss Bison was cowering behind the pillar in the back the entire time, only emerging when Ittokihei and his granddaughter left. Osore was also expecting to be struck across the face, but B didn't even raise his hand. Nasuke stood behind her, and she didn't Even need to look to see his gaze penetrating Bison's facade. She had felt it on her kimono more times than she cared to. She had been there all of two days, so there was nothing to gather and no reason to tarry. She bowed and scurried out the door. She made it all of 10 steps before Nausuke stopped her. You're welcome. He smiled. I didn't ask for your help. She didn't meet his eyes. They weren't looking at hers anyway. You would be dead, nosuke said. He said this job and her. Her other one. They were beneath her. She was the daughter of one samurai and the wife of another. She looked away at the mention of her husband. Nosuke took her hand. Everybody knows, he said. Yoshimichi Sato said he was okay following the family into destitution. Turns out he wasn't. So he left. She deserved better. She deserved him. No. Osote still didn't meet his eyes. Nasuke laughed. What? What else did she have? Her husband didn't want anything to do with her. And though Nasuke would love it, she didn't need to be his wife. She could just be his mistress. She wouldn't have to demean herself with these. These jobs. Just demean myself with you. Osore nodded. No. The answer was still no. She may have nothing, but that was preferable to him. Nosuke's face warped. Who did she think she was, talking to him like that? He made her a good offer. The next one wouldn't be so generous. In fact, she wouldn't get any say in the terms. Why make commitments and promises? And when he could just buy what he wanted? Her face grew ashen. Yeah, that's right. I know. He smiled. See you later. Standing alone in the street, asune watched Naosuke disappear around a corner, and she breathed, give me back my wife. Yemon glowered. Simon set down his tea. So right to it, then. She's not your wife, and she never will be, saemon said. She's pregnant with my child, yaman pleaded. Saemon had listened to enough men plead for enough things in his life. This wasn't a plea. It was a ploy. She'll be taken care of as long as she lives in my household, saemon declared. At this, Yaemon laughed. Zaemon couldn't even take care of himself. Osote was down at the toothpick store during the day, and Saemon was out begging by the temple. I'd rather be a beggar than a thief. Saemon leveled his glance at the young ronin. Yemon laughed There it is. The young man clapped to the old the main event. Go ahead, Grandpa. Explain what you think you know. Yaemon sat back on the mat. You stole from our master. You betrayed him, saemon said. Yaemon's mouth was a grin, but his eyes were that of an oni. A demon. Okay, yeah, let's go talk to him about it. We can clear this up right now. Neither man moved. But we can't. You know why? He's ashes in some family graveyard right now. His house is gone because he was too obtuse to realize the walls were closing in on him among the Emperor's courtiers. And he'll never have use for what you think I stole. It's still wrong. He was our master. Was Our master. Was. We were samurai. We were like gods. But now. Now I make umbrellas. You beg by the shrines like a dog. He betrayed us. I give him the loyalty he was due. Eman paused for a moment and then swung his hand. His clay teacup shattered against a pillar. So you admit it, the elder Ronan said, knowing that all he heard was all he was ever going to get. He took a deep breath. Though you may be father to my grandchild, you will never be my son. He could see Aemon's jaw clenching in his mouth. Do it. Do it so they could be done. Do it so his grandchild could have some measure of honor. We need to settle this, yemon breathed, betraying no hint of being affected by the gravity of challenging your girlfriend's father to a duel to the death. Indeed, zaemon said, relief washing over him. It would be over. Half the city thought they were married already, what with the courtship happening simultaneously with the collapse of Lord Enya's house. A son of a dead samurai was better than the son of a thief. It would finally be over tonight. By the shrines, yemon said, rose and left. Now Suke was. He was ready. All the day's wages had gone for this room in the pleasure quarters, but it would be so worth it. Tal snug around his waist, he adjusted the cloth on the lantern to, you know, fine tune the lighting. It wasn't the most romantic setting for her, but he wanted to make it as pleasant as possible. The door slid open on the far end of the room and the diminished crimson light. He couldn't see her face, but he knew who it was. He was so excited. Her voice was sultry. Probably just about anything she said would be sultry. This was perfect. He had all evening. It would have been better if it could have been a different way. But he couldn't wait any longer. She slid to his side. I've been waiting for you, Usode, he said. She gasped. She said her name was Homon Osore. Please, Nasuke said. It's me, Naosuke. The ronin chuckled. What? The forum next to him straightened. Yeah. We had such an awkward exchange. I'm so sorry for about earlier in the street today. I felt really bad. I wanted to come and donate to this place for some of your time. He said he just wanted to make amends and give her the chance to thank him for saving her life today. His finger traced her sleeve. Now there was no need to get acquainted. They already knew each other. She rose without a word and left the roomsuke. Hesitated for a few minutes. Was. Was she just getting stuff and coming back, or. He rose and walked out, finding the older woman who ran the establishment. He was looking for Oman. She's with a client, the woman said without looking up. I know. I was the one who. I'm the client. She's not with me, that is. He said, tightening his towel. The woman, Mrs. Takutsu, looked him up and down. Oh no, Sorry. She was reassigned. Someone arrived seeking her specifically, and so did I. And I already paid. Naosuke was getting more and more angry, and so did he. And he paid more. A lot more. I can get you someone else, Mrs. Tagutsu said. I don't want someone else. I want Osore. I mean Oman. He cried. The woman sighed. He knew that she didn't, you know. She just got the men worked up and broke down crying with her sob story about her beggar father and samurai and her sad sister, and they gave her money to leave. Noke said, then why did Mrs. Takeutsu keep her on? Mrs. Takeutsu said, because men paid for her. And then they paid for someone else, each one thinking that this was the first time this happened. Where is she? Nosuke demanded. But then he heard her voice getting louder and louder. He walked a few paces and threw open the door. Neither of them even seemed to realize that he was there. Mrs. Tokutsu rushed to the doorway and then. And then she stopped with a smile. In the room. Oh Sore embraced the tall, handsome man, his kimono already speckled with tears. I'll see you at home? The man asked. Osore dried her eyes and smiled through a sob. Yes, yes, of course. The whole establishment was abuzz. Oman was oh Sorei, daughter of a now destitute samurai clan. But her husband. Her husband had returned for her. He sought her out and found her and she was leaving. Yoshimichi Sato had come back for his wife. She kissed her husband and handed him a lantern for the road home. She said she would get dressed and be on her way soon. Nasuke didn't watch her go down the hallway. Instead, his eye stayed on Yoshimichi. The lantern. The target is the lantern. Osore gathered her things, which took longer than she thought it would. By the time she exited out to the street, a late night lull had set in. And turning some corners, only moths lingered by the lamps. Her husband had come for her. Even there, after everything. They married when she was still the daughter of a samurai, not a ronin. But he stayed with her. He followed her and her family into banishment and squalor. There was some problem with his own family. And one day she returned to an empty house. Well, not empty, just not him. There were two men waiting for him at a table, asking after him. She didn't know any more than they did. She didn't yet know that his own family had earned the ire of another clan. Not as serious as her own. His didn't draw the anger of the emperor, but enough that two men had died pursuing him and he had to rally to his own lord. It had been months. Oseore hadn't returned home to her father, instead making her own way, waiting for Yoshimichi. Men like Naosuke had been hounding her, but she stayed faithful. Now he had returned. The lanterns that night had halos. Well, all but one. One up ahead on the ground was smoldering. It had burned, but she recognized it. And that was not all. She recognized the clothes she had just seen. The lantern she had given him smoldering by his side, burning his flesh. Her husband. Her Yoshimichi, dead in the street. His face clawed and scraped beyond recognition. But she knew. She knew. We'll see what happened to Osore's husband. But that will be right after this. Spark something uncommon this holiday season with incredible hand picked gifts from Uncommon Goods.
- [18:25]
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- [18:36]
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Carissa Weiser
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Jason Weiser
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Carissa Weiser
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- [19:34]
Jason Weiser
Offer Uncommon Goods we're all out of the ordinary 15 minutes earlier, Naosuke watched the lantern drift under the bridge. Why? Why was he going by the shrines at this hour? And why was he walking under the bridge now? Suke had stayed on the lantern after leaving the pleasure district, stalking the shadows in a way he never would have as a samurai. But he wasn't a samurai, not anymore. He was a ronin now. No, he. He was a medicine seller. It didn't matter if he stayed in the shadows. People barely noticed him anyway. Yoshimichi disappeared only briefly under a bridge. Two men walked out in either direction, but Nasuke stayed with the lantern and the kimono and the man who needed to die so he could be with the woman he loved. He was so close. Oseri was almost his. Then her husband returned. The lantern swung by the older man's side as, measuring his steps, Naosuke slipped up behind him. His last thought before he drew his dagger and plunged it into the man's side was that he should figure out which clan was Yoshimichi's enemy and who should thank him for this. Dropping to the ground, the lantern caught as again and again, Naosuke drew the dagger out completely and drew it repeatedly in the Yoshimichi side. Is this enough? Is this enough? Naosuke found himself saying in the original. But soon the great samurai was no longer standing under his own power, the knife gripping the ribs holding him up, Yoshimichi collapsed onto the lantern and seemed like he snuffed it out. Nasuke froze, looking down at the body. Then he heard the clash of steel. Panicked at the blaze reigniting the elbow of the dead man, Nasuke stomped at it before diving into a nearby hedge away from the dueling ronin. Saemon dropped the stones as Iemon flicked the Blood away from his blade, sheathing it. The man he had just killed, his future child's grandfather, wasn't moving. He would never move again. Yaemon had killed enough men to be sure of that. Zaemon fought harder than any man Yaemon had ever faced. So hard that he didn't realize he had retreated so far into the darkness that they were now right next to another corpse. There was a man in the bushes. Yemon popped his blade free. You pant so loud, I could kill you without seeing you. Yemon said. Rise. Naosuke stepped cautiously from the hedge, hand on his own blade. Yemon chuckled and sheathed his. Naosuke, one of the other samurai of his late master, a medicine seller. Now they were on the same side. Who is he? Yemon pointed. Someone who stood between me and something I wanted. Will you do that too? Naosuke's hand didn't leave his sword. Okay. Relax. I have nothing against you. You're not dead. Yemon laughed. He squinted. He recognized the clothing. Yoshimichi. Naosuke straightened. He wasn't one of us. Take his face. Ieman ordered. Naosuke reeled. What? Take his face. The ronin ordered. He wanted to have a whole clan coming after him. A dead Yoshimichi was a dead samurai. A man without a face could be anyone. So Naosuke got to work, as did Iemon. Who's yours? Naosuke said, then looked closer at the body as Yemon flayed the skin from the man's skull. Oh, Saemon. He was only half finished when it was Yemon's time to hear footsteps in the darkness. Clogs on stone. Hide. He hissed. The hedge pulled at his own cloth and scraped his skin. Now. But it wasn't another samurai or ronin. It wasn't someone who would seek vengeance for either man. It was Sister. Both men heard from the darkness. Yemon and Naosuke looked at each other as they recognized the voices in the night. Oe Wa and Osore, the daughters of Samon. Both of the women realized who the bodies were. Both grieved one. One grieved both. Come on. Yemon said, grabbing Naosuke's arm and pulling him back, away from the women and out of the hedge. Then the two men found the road and jogged up. Iemon's face dropped as he appeared to recognize Oyewa, his beloved, and Osode, her sister, both hunched over the bodies of the men. No. No, no. No. What happened? The ronin asked as they walked forward to embrace the crying women. A baby cried, and Oyewa Combed her hair with her mother's silver comb. It had been five months since Samon died. Five months since standing by the shrines in the darkness. Both men had vowed to find the killers. Five months of searching, it turned out, had been fruitless. That had been why Oyewa married Emon, of course. That she was carrying his child and her father had just been murdered, and they were already in a precarious financial state. That was enough of an incentive. But that night, him being there just when she needed him, him vowing to avenge her father. It. It felt right. It felt like fate. Eamonn was a different man after he achieved his goal, though they married in a simple ceremony. And he. He was cruel after that. Putting her down, blaming her for getting pregnant, and bringing another mouth into this challenging life. As if he hadn't played his role frequently and with insistence. Yaemon didn't even smile when she told him it was his son. She had barely seen him since giving birth a few weeks ago, confined to the back room with her baby and a mosquito net, her bedding sticking to her during the sweltering Edo summers. She missed her father. She missed her sister who had moved to the country. She loved her son, but with him had gone her strength. She worried that she would die soon in the Nieman, or the man he had become would be left to care for the baby. No. She had to hold on. Hold on for him. Just then, a thud came from the entryway, and Uewa sat up. Was that a scream? It was a short one. Mansuke was a fool and broke the man's finger before Iemon could get a gag in. You steal from your master and think you can just walk away. Iemon looked on the medicine. Medicine that up until about a year ago, was the family heirloom of his master, Enya. Now it was Takami, Emon's family heirloom and one that Kohei, his now former servant, would pay for dearly. For stealing. Before the gag went in, Kohei had tried to bargain, saying that he did it only to save his former master and other samurai who became destitute when Enya's house fell. But Emon declared that for the theft, they would break all ten of his fingers slowly, one by one. Kanzo had been disappointed, saying that even though Kohei carried a sword, he was no samurai. Yemon pulled the sword off the man's body and removed it from its sheath, a rusty mess. Khei's first scream followed Iemon tossing it to the floor near the back, while Ieman and Bansuke attempted to pry unbroken fingers from the man's fists. Konzo laid into him, kicking him in the back and sides and face, while the cloth muffled his cries. Hello. They heard a woman's voice from the door. Yemon swore. Okay, get him up. Get him up. Get him into the closet. Yemon looked in Khei's quickly swelling eyes. One word and it would be even worse for him. The door slid shut on Kohei, cowering in the darkness. Come on in, Yemon called. Omaki shuffled in. She bowed, saying that she was the nurse. Yes, I know. In the employ of Ittokihe. Iemon grimaced. The woman said she had something from her master, the doctor, the old samurai, to celebrate the birth of Iemon's son. A basket of rice and other food tucked in next to a small piping kettle. How does Ito Kihei even know me? Waved for Konzo to take the basket. Omaki, the nurse said, well, Yemon used to be a neighbor of theirs before. Before your master's master's plotting drove my master to his death and all of his retainers to poverty. Yes, that was what I was referring to. Omaki smiled like she just bit down on a lemon. That was the past. Though her master wanted friendship. The whole district knew Oyewa was struggling, that she was weak. That was why Ittokihei sent this medicine. It would cure the young woman. Well, we don't need the charity of our enemy, hieman said. Just then, another man entered. Iemon's heart sunk. Osuke, the pawnbroker. Perfect timing. This needs to wait. Iemon addressed Misuke, but Misuke only winced. It did. It had already, and it couldn't anymore. He needed the five gold pieces to settle the account for the mosquito net and the nightgown. Yemon felt the medicine in his pocket. The one he just got back. The one that would cure anything, any ailment. Drawing it out and handing it to the man, he said this was worth 15. The medicine sloshed in the ancient bottle with characters printed on it. Masuke likely couldn't read, but he nodded and put it in his pack. It will be good for five. He began his walk to the back room, but Yemon stepped in his path. What was he doing? He said it was good that 5 covered the last few weeks. He required the gown and net. Unless Mieman wanted to keep renting it. Iemon sneered. Of course he wanted it. He wouldn't let his son be devoured by mosquitoes. One gold piece up front. Mosuke held out his hand. Yemen seat. If there Weren't so many witnesses. He was about to step aside to let the man go, take the net and gown from his ailing wife, when a whole pouch landed in the pawnbroker's hand. Leave us now, Hamaki, the old nurse from the house of his enemy, demanded. Mosuke bowed and left. Thank you. Yemon looked at the floorboards. Thank my master in person, hamaki said. Tonight. She nodded, turned, and left. Go thank him. He's not your enemy anymore. You're a ronin, not a samurai. Iemon sneered as he walked the path from his part of town to Dr. Ito Kihei's home, his two friends bumbling along behind him. Oyawa sounded like him like a conversation he once had with her father. The last conversation. She was right, of course. Just like Iemon had been. Except that when Iemon was right, it was about why it was okay to loot his late master's house as it collapsed. When she was right, it was about how far he had fallen, how small he was now. But she was right. And Dr. Ito Kihei had been persistent in his strangely overflowing generosity. He had been delivering gifts for the last four months. It was a generosity such that demanded explanation, and tonight Iemon intended to get it after sake. After dinner. Ittokihei's face beamed. The good doctor reminisced about the good old days with the young samurai, about the rivalry between the clans. Howemon's father in law had been like a demon to Lord Moronoa's men. That son of Yemon's. He would be formidable someday. Ah, food. The servants brought over the dishes, uncovered them. And gold. Three dishes. Three piles of gold that could change Iemon's life. Yemon looked up at the grinning Ittokihei sitting next to him. A woman, barely a woman. She looked as if she was waiting for Yemon to speak so she could breathe. This is my granddaughter, ittokihei said. Hi, yemon replied. Ume gasped like the statue of a God came to life and spoke only to her. She's in love with you. The old man grinned. Ume's eyes widened and she looked like she wanted to crawl underneath the floorboards. Yemon heard the whole story. How long ago, when they were neighbors, the girl had become infatuated with him. How she came down with lovesickness and grew paler and thinner. How she couldn't go on if she wasn't with him. Yemon blinked. This was a lot to take in, and he was honored. But he. He couldn't. Ume's mother was standing behind her, and she was the only one who could stop the razor blade with the. No. Ume had dug her hands into her braids and pulled out the blade she had hidden there. Her mother stood behind her, gripped and twisted her wrist, and forced her to drop it. Yemon and his fellow ronin were stunned, but Ittokihei continued. Like this sort of thing happened all the time. Because this sort of thing happened all the time. Ittokihei's face grew grim. He was very, very sorry then. About what? Iemon's hand went to his sword. About giving Yemon an out. What did the old doctor mean? Ittokihei feigned discomfort and distress. Okay, so this was, he thought. Emon would jump at the chance to have all of his problems disappear. Ume. Ume here wanted to be his mistress. She wanted to work as a servant in his household. But Ittokihei couldn't allow it. Not the granddaughter of a samurai lowering herself to work for commoners. Nor could she be married to a commoner. Ittokihei, Ittokihe thought. Sorry. He thought that Emon would want to marry a beautiful woman and stop making umbrellas and living in that hovel with the stained walls and the rats. He knew Yemon would make the right decision, so he wanted to make it easy. It was the medicine. The medicine Omaki delivered earlier. Back at the house, Takuetsu tidied up the main room while he made sure the servant, still bound and gagged and whimpering in the closet, didn't run. In the back room, the baby asleep, Ua felt the pot now sufficiently cooled, she emptied the kettle into a clay cup and the clay cup into her mouth. Immediately her fingers began to go numb, and her face and scalp, it burned. Takoetsu rushed to her aid, but recoiled. Recoiled when even in the lantern light after sunset, he could see what ua was becoming. Yemon sat up. Did Ittokihe poison his wife? She'll live, if that's what you mean. I'm so sorry. I thought. I thought you were a reasonable man. The only way I would do something like this was if she lived. I'm a doctor. What have you done to my wife? Yemon rose. Ittokihei's retainers rose in response, but Kihei waved them away. He could kill Ittokihe if he wanted. Ittokihe understood. But the fact remained, Yemon's wife would never look the same again. She was a monster now, an ogre. The medicine had disfigured her. This was all such a terrible mistake. Yemon listened to what happened to his wife and removed his hand from his sword. I will never make another umbrella again. Yemon demanded after a long moment of deliberation. Of course, that's the work of a commoner. Ittokihei smiled. I will marry your granddaughter. But you must recommend me as a retainer for Lord Moroni. I will be a samurai again. Yemon breathed. I would have done that without you asking, Ittokihei admitted once again. He wouldn't have his only grandchild married to a commoner. Yemon looked at the gold bulls and nodded to his compatriots, his fellow ronin. He needed some time to divorce his wife. The wedding would have to be tomorrow. Itokihei agreed. Iemon rose, and his friends stood up too. What are you doing? The head nod. It means pack up the gold, he said as he emptied his own dish into his pockets. They were. They were the worst cronies. See what happened to Emon's wife. But that will once again be right after this. Why are you standing outside? Takuetsu said. It was. It was Ueiwa. She. She's been transformed into a horrifying monster, Yemon said. Yeah. He slid the door open and went inside. To Takuetsu, Yemon seemed hardened, completely unaffected. The face, still in shadow, was gray, green. One eye had sunk so far back into the head that it seemed now a void. The other seemed to have grown. Her hair was falling out in bloody clumps, and her skull was lumpy and misshapen. She begged him, why? Why was he doing this? Yemen ordered her to be silent. She was his wife. She didn't get to ask those questions. What concern of hers was it who he married? But he did need some money for his portion of the wedding. Takuetsu winced as Yemon went through the room, Oyewa managing to plead enough to keep her silver comb. But in return, he took her kimono, her nightgown, and the mosquito net. She cried out that the mosquitoes would eat the baby. What do I care what happens to your baby? The ronin sneered before leaving her in the back room. Outside, cloth and netting piled in his hands. He said he had to go wake Mosuke. But before that, he had a request for Takuetsu. It would be a lot cleaner if Oyewa was unfaithful to him. Could the masseuse make that happen? He pressed two gold pieces into Takaetsu's hands. The masseuse remained frozen. Um. What? Um. What? That's you. That's what you sound like, Hiemon said. Do you understand what I'm asking? I need her to be unfaithful, and I'm giving you money. I need you to do a favor for me and to not make me angry. The last man that made me angry is tied up in my closet. Do you understand what I'm asking of you? Takuetsu's hand closed around the money, and he managed to nod. Good. I'll be back in an hour. Be quick about it. Yemon ordered, hefting the silken nets off to the pawnbroker. I'm not gonna do it. Takuetsu shrieked as Uwa found the rusted sword on the floor and lunged. Takuetsu wasn't a samurai, but thankfully neither was Oeywa. When you're wrestling someone brandishing a sword, though, it doesn't really matter. Soon Takuetsu managed to grip her cold, ashen hands and get control of the sword. He swung her arms back and the tip lodged in a pillar. I wasn't. I'm not gonna do it. Takuetsu repeated over the baby's screams from the back room. Uwa had a rough few weeks, to say the least. She gave birth, her marriage was collapsing, and now her husband wasn't just leaving, but abandoning her. Oyewa stopped, glaring at him with such intense hatred when he saw that she. She was looking at something. A mirror on the table. She staggered over her face. Her skin was gray, her eyes sunken, the other one massive, her hair clinging to, just barely clinging to her head. What? What happened to her? Takuetsu sighed. It was Ittokihei and his house. The granddaughter Ume was obsessed with Yemon. They wanted to entice him to leave. It didn't even take that. All it took was the promise of him being a samurai again. That was who Yemon was leaving her for. All fury, all hatred, all anguish left her eyes. Oyewa was completely serene, and Takuetsu was even more terrified of her. I will go thank him. I will go thank Ittokihei. And his granddaughter Oewa began to chuckle. Takuetsu went to the baby, and when he returned, Ua had finished blackening her teeth, as was the custom of the time. And she was using the comb on her hair, which came out in handfuls and from which she wrung blood. Laughing, Uwa said that none of them would ever find peace. She had nothing but hatred for Yeman, the house of Kihei, and the Ito family. My fury will not rest until it reaches its goal. She grinned in Takeetsu's face, and he shuddered at the last moment. He grabbed her sleeve, begging her not to go out, that people would think she was an oni. She wrenched free and staggered, spinning, spinning directly into the sword stuck into the wall by the door. It bit deep into her neck. Oyewa. Her grey green face and her scars and her swollen yet shrunken eyes. She put her hands on her neck, lurched a few gurgling steps, and then collapsed on the floor. She was dead. Why are you outside again? Why are you here? You're supposed to have like, run away with her. Yemon demanded when he strode up. The wedding was in ours and he couldn't still be married. And why was the baby inside screaming? You aren't still married. Was all Takuetsu could say as Yemon swept open the door to see. I'm so sorry, Takuetsu managed. Why this is fantastic. Iemon beamed, his eyes wide and mad. Bracing with his foot, he managed to wiggle the sword free from the wall and inspected it. Kohei. The servant's sword and everything. Oh my gosh. Lucky break. Too bad about my wife. Heartbreaking, really, Yemon said, changing his tone and walking over to the closet. He slid open the door to see the battered, trembling form of the servant from earlier. Running away with a servant like that. Ugh, just terrible. He put the servant's sword in its sheath and drew his own. You know, I doubt we'll see either of them ever again. A servant? Really? Ume, Yemon's new wife said, entering the house. It would be temporary, of course, once Yemon's lord supplied a new mansion and she left without the baby, ittokihe said. Yemon nodded. Yes, that did present a problem, Ittokihe said. He wouldn't hear of it. He and Omaki would stay there tonight, the Iemon said. That was. It was their wedding night and this divider was like a screen. Kihei said they would not be disturbed. Besides, when you buy something, you want to be sure you're getting it. Did Iemon understand? Iemon cringed a little bit. Yeah. He didn't think they'd be in such stark economic terms, but he turned to his new wife. They could sleep in his old bed tonight. It would serve his faithless old wife right. Ume was still very young, so she didn't quite have the alarm bell set up for how gross and weird this all actually was. She took her husband's hand and went to the bedroom while Yemon's new father in law sat in the room just outside holding his cooing baby. He slid the door shut and threw A cloth over the lantern. Loosening his kimono, he sauntered over and laughed. He knew that she was nervous, but it was all okay. He would show her everything she needed to know. After all, he was her husband. And. Ume looked up, a smile on her face. But it wasn't her face. It was the gray green face of Uyewa, with her sunken eye and scars and bloody hair now creeping down the back of her skull. Her sparse grey kimono clung to her. The room grew red all around him. It grew dark and sickly. Yes, Iemon, you are my husband. She smiled and rose. But Emon was nothing if not decisive. As she rose, he drew his sword and decapitated her with one motion. With that, the room was normal again. It was over. He breathed, flicking the blood from his sword, sheathing it. He looked around for his wife. His new wife. Ume. The beautiful girl who worshipped him. She had been. Well. She had been right here. The body slumped and bled out onto the bed. Iemon staggered back. Oh, no. His vision pulsed as he dared. He dared look to the woman he had just decapitated and saw that it was not, in fact, a Yaeyua. He saw the last look of terror frozen on Ume's face. On her head that had just rolled to a stop by the door. No. No. No. No. What. What had he done? He. He. Yemon. What's going on in there? He heard from outside. But it wasn't Itokihei's voice. It was his servant, Kohei. Yemon slid the door open to see the servant Kohei, the man whose body he last saw bobbing in the river, nailed to a door, sitting bloated, holding his son. I need the medicine, Master. Please. Servant Khei begged, River water pouring from in between his teeth. Another sweep of the sword. Another head. Another mistake. It was the confused, frantic face of Ito Khe on this one. As Yemon came to his senses. He was cursed. He hadn't meant to. She. She had done this. Oyewa. His hand shook as he managed to sheath the sword. Omaki cowered in the corner. Yemon's whole new life gone dead on the floor in two quick movements. He staggered from the room, through the doorway and out into the night. Oyumi, Ume's mother, stood by the grave. No. She had been searching for Yemon for months. There was a noise behind her, and she turned. Dagger out. She relaxed and sheathed that. It was some eel catcher who had his hands up. Oyumu said that she was sorry. She was looking for someone. But it seemed like her search was over. Tamaya Yemon. The eel catcher rubbed the stubble on his chin. Yeah, Hyaman, Whoever he is. His mother set that up here. He went mad or something. Said he was seeing his wife everywhere. The man shrugged. They found him in the forest about 49 days ago. Ayumi shook her head and wiped the edges of a tear away. Did you know him? The eel catcher asked. He killed my father and daughter. He doesn't deserve to rest on a hill in view of a river. He deserves to rot. Well, it's kind of both, right? The eel catcher said. But Yumi could only lament that she would never get to see her vengeance through since he died peacefully. Well, we don't know that he died peacefully, the ill catcher said. I mean, he had gone insane. He died more peacefully than he would have if I found him, she said. I also don't know about that. She heard, but realized it didn't come from the eel catcher. It came from the man the eel catcher was looking at, the one standing right behind her. She turned, and underneath a wide black hat, she saw the somber face of Yemon. She moved to draw her dagger, but he simply shoved her. She rolled down the hill, the rocks, and landed in the river, where she floated face down longer than anyone could and still rise. Thank you, Naosuke, Yemen said. Absolutely. Hey, we have to look out for each other, Nosuke said. You really are a true monster, you know. The man hefted his buckets and made his way down the hill. When he did, Yemon's gaze turned toward the forest, to someone, something that Naosuke hadn't been able to see. His bravado had deteriorated back to terror. Is that enough? She's gone. Please let that be enough. Asode couldn't cry. On some level, she had known her sister wasn't the type to up and leave without her son. And even though Yemon might be faithless, she would stay faithful. That's just who she was. Wasode had known for almost two months now that her sister was gone. Now she was certain it was Yemon. In fact, I've long suspected him of killing your father, too. Maybe even Yoshimichi, your husband. I think he could be the one we're after. So Nasuke put his hand on no Soda's. She pulled it away at the sound of a knock at the door. Someone's at the door. I'll get it, Osode said. We're out of the ensigns and we're closed anyway. Nosuke called out there. No need now, where were they? I just need a little shikimi. The voice called out. I'm the shopkeeper. I'll turn him away. Politely, Osode said. Nasuke groaned and resumed washing the plates in the basin. Osore stepped outside and froze. She stopped breathing. Yoshimichi. Her husband. She flew to him, embracing him, sobbing. He. He took her into his arms. She asked how any of this was possible. He told her before he returned. He had been watching her. He saw that ronin, that Naosuke, grow bolder and bolder. Yoshimichi knew he wasn't safe. So he hired a man, a man recently destitute, the son of Nasuke's old master, to trade clothes with him under the bridge that night. And his suspicions were confirmed. Nasuke murdered the man he thought was Yoshimichi. Asode shook with rage with disgust. She. She married the man who killed her husband. All because he promised her vengeance. I want you to kill him. She looked up to Yoshimichi, and she had a plan. That was a long conversation to tell someone. We're closed. Naosuke laughed, but turned when she didn't respond. Look like she had seen a ghost. Yoshimichi. She managed. He's alive. What? Nasuke staggered. Osore nodded. Yes. He traded clothes with a stranger that night. He suspected you. Nosuke grew serious. So she knew. I'm married to you now. He is. He's a ghost. We just need to make that true. Masoode said. But you don't care that. I don't care about anything. Not him, not my sister. I'm not looking for vengeance anymore. I am as faithless as you are. I just. I just want to move on. Mosore said and explained the plan. The plan was that she had spoken to Yoshimichi. He would be in later to kill Naosuke. She would time it perfectly to draw Naosuke behind the screen. And with a cry, he would stab through it. It was straightforward. Naosuke would simply kill him first. So that's how it happened. That night, at the agreed upon time, Yoshimichi slid the door open to sounds of low, sultry tones coming from deeper in the room. Was there, standing on the other side of the screen. But Osore wasn't by his side. What was going on now? Osore whispered. And both men stabbed. But they didn't stab each other. A cry emanated from the folding screens, and drawing his bloody sword, Naosuke rushed for the lantern. Lighting it, he found Osode in the arms of her husband. Yoshimichi she was dying. Please, please forgive me. She said, and died. Yoshimichi laid her to rest on the floor and sheathed the sword. You. You did this. Naosuke pointed his own sword. We did this, the samurai corrected, rising. He wouldn't fight Nasuke. There was no reason to. Nasuke wouldn't be leaving this place. He was sure of it. Yoshimichi knew his wife. He knew the letter and the item that she kept in the folds of her kimono. He wagered that Nasuke didn't. If Nasuke wanted to challenge him, he would be up at the abandoned hermitage on the hill. With that, Yoshimichi walked out and into the freshly fallen snow. Naosuke found the letters in the folds of Osote's kimono and a black bit of something. It was an umbilical cord, or part of one. One belonging to her brother. Naosuke shook his head. That didn't make sense. Osota only had her sister. He read on and froze. The letter fluttered to the ground and Naosuke turned and retched. The letter detailed Osote's search for her biological family, everything she had learned over the years. By the time she managed to find them, her parents were gone. But she learned she had a brother. She had a brother named Naosuke from the same place as Nosuke, the ronin's late parents. She. She was his sister. He drew his short sword alone in that quiet store, and died, quote regretting his despicable heart. Yoshimichi found the form huddled over the pond, fishing in the dead of night, with snow coming down all around him. Yemon shivered. Everyone is here. Everyone is here. He said. No, only me. Yoshimichi declared. Iemon gasped and jumped, turning to see the samurai sort out and I have come to deliver justice for my sister in law. Ua. No, no. You don't understand. Iemon rose, smiling. Everyone. Everyone is here. He gestured all around to those Yoshimichi couldn't see. But Uyemon could, because they never left him. Ume and Ittokihei carrying their heads. Omaki and Uyumi dripping and bloated from the river. Khei and Saemon, their wounds festering and maggot ridden. And always, always Hoyewa. Their eyes followed him when he slept and ate. He saw her face everywhere. Every lantern, every person. He didn't know what was real and what wasn't. He shook. And he was only staying alive for his son. Yoshimichi looked to the Jizo statue next to the pond. Try as he might, Yoshimiche hadn't been able to find his nephew. He seemed to disappear. The night Yemon killed Ume and Itokihei. Yemon shook. To see them was a waking nightmare. To go to sleep was even worse. His sins, his past, hunted him. He would never, never be free. Draw your sword. Yoshimichi demanded. Yemon looked off in the darkness to eyes that glowed from the water rising. Her matted head nodded. Who. Who will I kill now? Yemon's voice quavered. He stepped toward Yoshimichi. It was hardly a duel. Yemon was shrieking about rats. Rats swarming him from the forest and the creek and the hermitage. Rats tangling around his sword. Yoshimichi slashed him diagonally across the chest, from belt to shoulder. It was the kind of slash you do not walk away from, something Amon proved. As he dropped to the ground, the blood pooled around him and steamed on the snow. Yoshimichi could see the bone, could see the wound separate each time Emon's chest rose. He must be in agony. But he didn't scream. He wept. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. He cried to the air all around him. Then he looked at Yoshimichi. Will you. Will you stay with me? Yoshimichi blinked. No. No, he would not. Yemon nodded. He. He deserved that. Well, would he at least kill him properly? He could be here for hours, days even, Yoshimichi corrected, drawing up his sword and sheathing it. But no. No. Yemon didn't deserve that either. What? You can't leave me here with them. But Yuchimichi was already gone, making his way back down the hills to bury his wife, leaving Emon to the ghosts of his past closing in around him, the ronin's screams echoing through the vast, empty forest. Today's story was supposedly the most famous ghost story in Japan, and was a major inspiration for Japanese horror and other horror. I mean, if you've ever seen the movie the Ring, you've seen a movie inspired by a Japanese film, inspired by the story. And despite its fame, it was extremely difficult to find the full story. So I hope you liked it. For me, it was. It was dark and kind of hard to have it in my head for any amount of time, but it made me appreciate the people in my life who were not selfish, murderous ronin. So there's a lot to unpack here, and we definitely won't get into all of it. I found some interesting commentaries. The story came from a time of a lot of social change in Japan. Even though UA and Others were thought to have actually existed in the 1600s. The story became famous in 1825 in the form of a kabuki play that I adapted here. In many ways, it's supposed to subvert the idea of the heroic samurai who always saves the day, or the retainer who stays loyal to the shamed lore to his ultimate glory. The samurai here are petty and violent. They're caught up in feuds and their own selfish ambition, and they're tangled. Oftentimes, contradictory loyalties are more destructive than they are glorifying. In many ways, it reflects the changing idea of the samurai in the early 1800s, with the samurai and the shogun fading and modernization taking hold later on in the century. It's a stark, honest, uncomfortable look at the samurai as real people, in what seems like the logical conclusion of the violence and obsession over respect and reputation and ambition. They're equally likely to torture a servant and kill everyone to get what they want, as they are to stand up for honor and look after those they care about. The user on Discord who recommended this Sofonispa also offered up an interpretation. Women had no power, obviously. Yemon was perfectly within his rights, according to the story, to abandon his ailing postpartum wife. And when Saemon and Ittokihe died, Saemon's daughters had to go with men who were terrible for them. And Itokihe's daughter and nurse had to resort to begging by the river. Sofonisba said it best when they said that the women of the story can't protect themselves in life, so they basically get superpowers when they die. And there's nothing the man can do, even if he has a castle and a sword. Ayewa isn't evil. People are evil. And actions, well, actions have consequences. The creature this week is Waterlord from Mali. In Africa, when your co wife fills your water jar full of mud, it's rude, it's insulting, especially when you're pregnant. So what can you do? Talk it out. Find someone to help mediate and resolve this. Avoid her? No. You go to the Waterlord's domain. The water, presumably. I'm pretty sure it was a river. I'm not even sure what she asked, and we don't know. But the Waterlord cleaned the jar and set it back on her head. I hope that wasn't it, because it seems like that's something she probably could have done herself and saved herself a human sacrifice. And, yeah, that was the cost. The Waterlord would claim her unborn child once again. Pretty steep price for a clean jar. She accepted it though, and named the child Jinde Serinde, she who the Waterlord will claim. Jinde grew up and her mom sent her to the lake to wash the water jar. And yep, kidnapped Waterlord's tentacles came from the water, gripped her ankles and pulled her under. Only the clay jar remained in the mud. The seven headed Tentacle monster Waterlord wasn't a bad guy though, and after some pleading, he let Jinde return to the above world for a day in order to say goodbye to her friends and family. Then, as she was wading up the shore, he thought about it. What was he doing? Of course he was a bad guy. He made deals that involved kidnapping women and imprisoning them. His tentacles shot back up. But Jinde was ready and she fought. She cried out for her mother but saw her father's house shut up because it was tradition that once given away in marriage, women couldn't return to their father's house. She called out to her boyfriend and oh cool, he stole his dad's sword and was going to fight the water monster for her. Water Lord is like the Hydra in that it has multiple heads and it's a water monster. It's kind of extremely unlike the Hydra though, and that those heads do not regenerate. Jean Day's boyfriend chopped off all seven and Waterlord let go, dropping into the river. I guess the Waterlord got better though, because until somewhat recently people brought offerings to it to encourage the flow of the river and it could cause drought if you upset it. So yeah, I guess bring it presents, sure. Just maybe hold back on promising your kids, especially if it's only to have the Water Lord wash some dishes for you. That's it for this week. Myths and Legends is by Jason and Carissa Weiser. Our theme song is by Broke for Free. And the Creature of the Week music is by Steve Combs. There are links to even more of the music we used in the show Notes. Thank you so much for listening and we'll see you next time.