Episode 86 – For Fox Sake – Myths Your Teacher Hated

Episode 86 Show Notes

Source: Japanese Folklore

This week on MYTH, it’s a pair of sexy shape-shifting spirits. You’ll discover that Emperors can be creepy old men, that some women give foxy a whole new meaning, and that the Mikado isn’t just a Gilbert and Sullivan opera that I use as a vocal warmup. Then, in Gods and Monsters, it’s the supernatural origins of a historical figure. This is the Myths Your Teacher Hated podcast, where I tell the stories of cultures from around the world in all of their original, bloody, uncensored glory. Modern tellings of these stories have become dry and dusty, but I’ll be trying to breathe new life into them. This is Episode 86, “For Fox Sake”. As always, this episode is not safe for work.
I don’t want to give anything away here, so we’re just going to jump right into this week’s story (which comes from the Japanese Fairy Tales collection by Grace James). Once upon a time, long ago, a peddler journeyed down the long road to Kyoto, back aching under his heavy pack. To his surprise, he soon came across a young girl sitting beside the road. They were quite some ways from any form of civilization out here, without even a village to be seen anywhere. “Hello there, little girl. What are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere?”
The child looked at him and answered his question with her own question. “What are you doing out here in the wilderness with your staff and your pack and your worn down sandals?” The peddler considered this non-reply, then shrugged. “I’m on my way to Kyoto and to the Mikado’s palace to sell my trinkets and baubles to the ladies of the court.” The Mikado literally translates to ‘the honorable gate’, referring to the main gate of the imperial palace; it metaphorically refers to the Emperor of Japan and to the palace he lives in.
The little girl perked up at that news. “The Mikado? Take me with you.” “Perhaps. What is your name, little girl? If you’re going to travel with me, I should at least know who you are.” The little girl held his gaze with unsettling intensity. “I have no name.” “Then where did you come from, nameless child?” “I come from nowhere.” “Weird, I’ve never heard of a town called nowhere. How old are you? I’d guess about seven, but I’ve never been great at guessing ages.” “I have no age.” “Of course you don’t. Why are you here? Let me guess, you have no reason, right?” The girl smiled. “No, I was waiting here for you.” That took the peddler aback a little. “For me? I haven’t been along this road for some time. How long have you been waiting here?” “For more than a hundred years.” The peddler laughed at the patent absurdity of that response. This creepy Arya Stark type kid clearly had no real sense of time, but she’d just as clearly been waiting here for someone for a long time. “That’s a long time indeed for a little girl to wait. Alright then; come along with me to Kyoto.”
The little girl stood up, dusted off her clothes, and set out along the road with the peddler. They journeyed for many days before they finally came to Kyoto and the Mikado’s palace. As the peddler was presented to court, the young, nameless girl began to dance. With a grace and beauty that was especially incredible coming from one so young, she flowed across the floor as lightly as a sea-bird flitting above the crashing waves of the sea and everyone in the palace was captivated by her. When she brought her dance to a graceful conclusion, the Mikado called her over to his imperial presence.
The Emperor beamed at the little dancer. “You are truly a marvel, little one! You have graced us all with something incredible. What boon, what gift can I offer you in return? Ask, and you shall have it.” The girl stared at the floor and her voice quavered. “O Divine Descendant of Heaven; o Son of the Gods – I cannot ask for what is in my heart. I am afraid…” The Mikado brushed her concern away with a broad, magnanimous gesture. “There is no need to fear, little dancer. Ask.” She looked up hesitantly and murmured her desire quietly. “I wish to stay here in the shining light of your august presence.” The Mikado beamed at this and clapped twice. “So be it! You have a home here.”
Thus did the nameless child come to live in the Emperor’s palace and she was nameless no more, for the Mikado called her Tamamo. She was soon immersed in training in every artistic skill. Tamamo had an artistic gift and soon became the mistress of every skill she tried her hand at: she could sing and dance and play any instrument in the palace with haunting beauty and skill. Put a brush in her hand and she could paint a scene more beautiful than any other artist in the kingdom, and she was equally skilled with a needle or a loom. With nothing but the ethereal skill of her poetry, Tamamo could bring grown men to tears. Her skill with words extended equally well to the complex arguments of philosophy and the holy writs of Confucius, Buddha, and Cathay (a historical name for China). Courtiers called her Exquisite Perfection, the Purest Gold, and the Flawless Jewel. As time passed and her skill grew, the Mikado grew to love Tamamo.
And yeah, that’s about to become a problem. See, I don’t mean that he loved Tamamo (who had by now grown into a beautiful young woman) like a daughter, even though she had grown from a small child in front of his eyes. No, he lusted after her. He desired her. He forgot all of his honor and duty and kingly decorum whenever he laid his eyes on her. Frankly, it was super gross – and that’s not just modern editorializing. The story makes it very explicit that everyone in the palace was worried about the emperor growing disturbingly rough and passionate towards the foundling Tamamo, with the servants fearing to even approach him anymore. He grew sick and weak, pining for his beautiful ward to the point where not even his doctors could do anything for him.
They bemoaned this awful state of affairs, terrified that the Emperor would die on their watch. None of their training was of any use and they feared that some sorcery was afoot. The Mikado was having none of their accusatory shit. “Get out! Get out! All of you, get the fuck out! You’re a pack of tedious incompetents and I have no use for any of you! I will do whatever I want because I’m the motherfucking emperor!”
As you can probably guess, what he wanted was to possess Tamamo. Ew. He took her to his Summer Palace out away from the hustle and bustle of the city where he could romance her in relative peace. To that end, the Mikado threw a lavish feast in her honor and invited all of the most powerful nobles in the land. They came in answer to this summons to find the Mikado looking like absolute shit. He was pale and waxy and sickly looking, and the radiance of Tamamo in her scarlet robes and cloth of gold seated at his side made it all the more obvious. She looked as beautiful as the emperor looked terrible as she poured his sake from a golden flagon.
The Emperor met her eyes as she poured, hot with feverish desire. “Other women are like broken dolls beside your grace and beauty. There’s not a single woman here worthy to even touch your sleeve. I love you so very much, Tamamo.” In the awkward quiet of the assembled guests, his voice (which he hadn’t made any effort to keep quiet) carried to every ear. After he confessed his obsession, he laughed bitterly. Tamamo froze, unsure of how to respond to this spoken desire from the absolute ruler of the kingdom. “My lord…” she began, but she trailed off, not knowing how to finish that sentence.
The silence grew brittle as it stretched out and eventually, someone broke it. The feast carried on, strained but still trucking along (more from sheer momentum than any actual joy or merriment to be had). As this assembly of the rich and powerful feasted on delicacies, the skies overhead began to grow dark with heavy, ugly looking clouds until the stars and the moon were lost to the swelling blackness. A terrible wind gusted out of the night and ripped through the halls of the Summer Palace, snuffing out every torch in the great hall. Thunder rolled and the rain suddenly poured out in a torrential fall, causing the assembled guests to scramble for cover. The sudden, unexpected darkness coupled with the raging storm struck fear into all hearts that night. Courtiers fled in terror, knocking over tables, chairs, and each other in their desperation to be somewhere, anywhere but here.
Amidst the crashing of the rain and the roar of the thunder and the smashing of breaking plates, all was fear and chaos and darkness. Then a gentle radiance pierced the night, growing quickly and steadily in brilliance. It flared out from Tamamo in long tongues of phantom fire streaming out from her body. The Mikado gazed upon this awesome sight and fell to his knees, weeping. He called her name three times, roaring voice breaking with need and pain and then he fell to the floor and was still.
The courtiers rushed to the Mikado’s side, but he did not move. He breathed – barely – but he was still and unresponsive no matter what they tried. For many days, the Emperor lay motionless in his bed, asleep on the very brink of death and none knew if he would survive. The scholars and doctors and holy men gathered together to discuss this great tragedy, to try and save their ruler. They prayed to the gods for wisdom and aid and then summoned Abe Yasu, the Seer. “O great Abe Yasu, skilled in the mystical arts and learned in dark and mysterious things, we beg your aid. Please discover the cause of the Mikado’s terrible illness and tell us if there is a cure. Perform a divination for us, we beseech you!”
The seer nodded in acceptance of this task and went out to perform his rituals. When the divination was complete, he came back to the collection of wise men, his gaze distant. “The wine is sweet, but the aftertaste is bitter. Do not bite into the flesh of the golden persimmon, for it is rotten to the core. Fair is the scarlet flower of the Death Lily, but pluck it not. What is beauty? What is wisdom? What is love? Be not deceived, for they are merely threads in a tapestry of illusion and lies!” The Wise Men looked around at each other, but each was as confused as the other. No one understood these cryptic words and they said so, asking Abe Yasu to be a little more clear and direct about his warning.
“I can do more than speak. Leave me.” The seer spent the next three days in solitary fasting, prayer, and quiet contemplation. When he was prepared, Abe Yasu took up the sacred Gohei (a wooden wand with zigzagging paper streamers used in Shinto rituals to cleanse, bless, or exorcize a place of any negative energies or demons). Walking out of the Temple, he called the Wise Men to him, touching each with the Gohei to cleanse their energies before setting out. Together, they walked to Tamamo’s bower, Abe Yasu carrying the sacred Gohei in his right hand.
They arrived to find Tamamo there with her maidens, getting ready and dressed for the day. “My lords, why have you come here unbidden? What do you want of me?” Abe Yasu stepped forward, Gohei in hand. “My lady Tamamo, I have written a song for you in the Chinese style. You are a renowned expert in music and poetry, so I would ask that you listen to my song and give me your skilled judgment.” Tamamo cocked an eyebrow incredulously. “Now? Seriously? My lord is lying in the next room on what might very well be his deathbed, and you want to serenade me? I’m in no mood for song right now.”
Abe Yasu bowed his head slightly. “I can appreciate that, my lady, but I fear I must insist. It is important that you hear this song of mine.” She sighed. “If you’re not giving me a choice…” That wasn’t really consent, but it was all the opening that Abe Yasu needed. Gripping the Gohei, he began to recite. “The wine is sweet, but the aftertaste is bitter. Do not bite into the flesh of the golden persimmon, for it is rotten to the core. Fair is the scarlet flower of the Death Lily, but pluck it not. What is beauty? What is wisdom? What is love? Be not deceived, for they are merely threads in a tapestry of illusion and lies!” He finished speaking and then touched Tamamo with the Gohei.
She had been mesmerized into still silence by the sound of the seer’s voice, but at the gentle touch of the sacred object, she screamed in agony. Her form shivered and shattered, the beautiful woman melting into a great fox with nine long tails and hair like fine golden wire. With another pitiful cry, the fox fled from the bower and raced out into the distant plains of Nasu. There, the fox hid beneath a huge black stone lying in the middle of the empty plain. No sooner had it vanished from sight than the Mikado awoke for the first time. All signs of his mysterious illness were gone as suddenly as they had appeared.
It didn’t take long for word of dark and terrible things to trickle into the palace from the great black stone of Nasu. It was said that a stream of foul, poisonous water flowed beneath the rock, withering the once-bright flowers along its bank. Any foolish enough to drink from the clearly unhealthy water sickened and died, man and beast alike. It was also said that no one could approach the evil stone and survive. The traveler who sat down to rest in its cold shadow never rose again; the bird who lit upon its lethal surface dropped dead a moment later. Stories spread, and it became known as the Death Stone and all avoided it for the next hundred years.
One day, the High Priest Genyo (who was a well-respected holy man) took up his staff and begging bowl and went on a pilgrimage across the land. In time, he made his way to Nasu. The locals filled his bowl with rice and filled his ears with warnings about the dreaded Death Stone. They warned him to give it a very wide berth and to absolutely not rest in its shade or he would surely die. These warnings intrigued the High Priest and he contemplated this mystery for a long moment. At last, he made his decision. “In the Book of the Good Law, it is written that ‘herbs, trees, and rocks shall all enter into Nirvana.’” With that somewhat cryptic remark, Genyo set out for the Death Stone.
At the blasted plain, the priest burned sweet incense then took up his staff. Striking the rock with the blessed wood, he cried out ‘Come forth, o Spirit of the Death Stone; come forth, for I conjure thee!” Where his staff struck the rock, it split in a great gout of flame amidst a thunderous explosion of grinding stone. When it cleared, the stone had been split clean in half and a woman stepped out of the swirling flames. She walked out to stand before Genyo and bowed her head.
“I am Tamamo, once called the Proud Perfection. I am the Golden Fox, nine-tailed and powerful. I know the secret sorceries of the East and I was worshiped by the Princes of Ind. I was the undoing of great Cathay, subtle and unseen in the shadows. I was wise and beautiful and ancient and powerful. I was Evil incarnate, but the power of the Buddha has changed me. After the touch of the Gohei, I dwelt in my heavy grief for a hundred years. Bitter tears have washed away my beauty and my sin. Shrive me, Genyo; hear my confession and absolve me of my darkness. Let me have peace, I beg you.”
The holy man shook his head sadly. “You poor spirit. I will help you, Golden Fox. Take my staff and my priestly robe, then take up my begging bowl and set out on your long journey of penance.” Tamamo nodded in silent assent and took up the holy items, staff in one hand and bowl in the other. As soon as she had done so, the sad fox spirit vanished from the sight of mortal men. Genyo looked out in the direction she had been headed and offered up a quiet prayer that one day, Tamamo would find her peace and attain Nirvana.
As you may have guessed by now, Tamamo is a kitsune (literally the Japanese word for ‘fox’), a trickster spirit. One commonality in almost every story of the fox spirit is its ability to shapeshift into human form, as we saw with Tamamo. Traditionally, the more tails a kitsune has, the older and more powerful it is (with nine being the oldest and most powerful). To some, this made the fox spirits a power to be worshiped and appeased with offerings; to others, a witch animal or goblin that could not be trusted (much like badgers and cats during the superstitious Edo period). Kitsune are often broken down into two basic camps: zenko, or good foxes associated with Inari and yako, or field foxes who tend to be mischievous and, at times, even actively cruel.
As the tale alludes to, the kitsune came to Japan from China. Stories of nine-tailed fox spirits known as huli jing traveled to the island with the merchants along with its connection to Buddhism. In many stories, the term ‘spirit’ was used to reflect its state of wisdom and supernatural power rather than any fundamental difference with other foxes. Indeed, in some versions, all long-lived foxes could attain the power of kitsune (with some folklore claiming a fox needed to survive for 100 years before growing additional tails and 1000 years to grow all nine).
And so, with the trickster fox once more on the path to wisdom, it’s time for Gods and Monsters. This is a segment where I get into a little more detail about the personalities and history of one of the gods or monsters from this week’s pantheon that was not discussed in the main story. This week’s heroine is Kuzunoha. One of the most popular kitsune stories involves Kuzunoha, whose name translates to kudzu leaf. The tale was enough of a favorite to become a beloved kabuki theater story.
Long ago, possibly as long ago as the 10th century, there lived a young nobleman named Abe no Yasuna. His family had once been prosperous and well-respected, but it had fallen on hard times and their lands had been stolen away from them. He traveled often to Inari’s shrine to pray for the kami’s blessing in restoring his family home and fortune. He was on his way to visit a shrine in Shinoda in Settsu Province when he came across a party led by a young military officer hunting foxes. The livers of the cute little besties were said to be a powerful medicine. In particular, a beautiful white fox was limping away from the hunters, badly wounded and in dire straits. Looking up at Abe no Yasuna, the fox spoke, begging for his help in escaping certain death.
Yasuna knew that foxes were sacred to Inari and so, hoping to deserve her blessing, he helped the small fox escape. In some versions of the story, he has to fight the officer to allow the fox to flee; in others, the officer beats the young man badly, furious at the loss of his quarry. Either way, Yasuna leaves the encounter badly wounded for his compassion. His body was in agony as he dragged his battered form home to rest and recuperate.
Along the way, he met a beautiful young woman who saw his bruised and bloody state and took pity on him. She helped Yasuna make his way home and then stayed with him to tend to his wounds. Her name was Kuzunoha and she was as beautiful within as she was without. It didn’t take long for the two young people to fall madly in love. Love begat sex, and sex begat a baby as it has been known to do. The baby was named Seimei (an actual historical figure in addition to being a popular figure of legend and folklore) who would one day grow up to be a leading onmyoji, or technical officer in charge of divination and astrology (a skill he learned from his father, who had also been an onmyoji). From a very young age, Seimei was a very clever child (clearly taking after his mother).
Yasuna and Kuzunoha lived together in wedded bliss for six happy years. The family was out in the garden that autumn, breathing in the intoxicating scent of the blooming chrysanthemums. Kuzunoha was especially wrapped up in the wonderful moment. Distracted by sheer joy, she let her concentration slip. Out from the bottom of her robes slipped a fluffy white tail. Yasuna was equally caught up in the moment but Seimei noticed the unexpected tail and went to grab it, laughing. Surprising no one who’s been paying attention, Kuzunoha was of course the white kitsune from the beginning of the story. She had shifted into human form to return the favor of her protector only to fall legitimately in love with the charming young man.
Kuzunoha knew that her secret had been revealed which, unfortunately, meant that she could no longer stay where her heart longed to be. She loved Yasuna and couldn’t bear the thought of watching his heart break right in front of her, so she decided to leave him a letter and slip out in secret to go back to the wilderness. Composing her farewell into a poem, she attached the note to a sliding screen where it would be sure to be found. Her husband found it when he came home later that day with his son. ‘If you think of me, my love, come and seek me in the forests of Shinoda, and you will find a kudzu leaf.’
Yasuna read the poem, and then read it again. He hadn’t seen his wife’s tail poking out, but he was clever enough in his own right to put two and two together and come up with kitsune. He realized that Kuzunoha must have been the white fox from all those years ago. He loved her regardless of whether she was actually human or not and he resolved to seek her out in the forest of Shinoda. Seimei in tow, Yasuna went to find his beloved.
The two searched through the forests until, at last, Kuzunoha came out to meet them one last time. In her true form as a kitsune, she spoke to her family. She presented them with a crystal ball and a small golden box as parting gifts. Either these gifts, her blessing, or a portion of her mystical nature manifested in her son, granting him the ability to speak to animals from that day forward. For Yasuna, she confirmed that she was indeed the fox he had saved. More than that, she revealed herself as the kami of Shinoda Shrine, blessing Yasuna for his service and fervent prayers. And with that, she was gone forever. As I mentioned, Seimei was a real person who lived in the 10th century (hence the dating of the tale) and it was said that his kami mother had imbued him with some of her yokai (or supernatural spirit) nature and powers, which he combined with the onmyoji skills of his father to become an advisor to the Emperor.
That’s it for this episode of Myths Your Teacher Hated. Keep up with new episodes on our Facebook page, on iTunes, on Stitcher, on TuneIn, on Vurbl, and on Spotify, or you can follow us on Twitter as @HardcoreMyth and on Instagram as Myths Your Teacher Hated Pod. You can also find news and episodes on our website at myths your teacher hated dot com. If you have any questions, any gods or monsters you’d want to learn about, or any ideas for future stories that you’d like to hear, feel free to drop me a line. I’m trying to pull as much material from as many different cultures as possible, but there are all sorts of stories I’ve never heard, so suggestions are appreciated. The theme music is by Tiny Cheese Puff.
Next time, we’re headed west to meet a merman who won’t take no for an answer. You’ll see that red-stone walls can’t protect you, that the saints hate sea-people, and that children are no match for church bells. Then, in Gods and Monsters, we’ll meet a different group of shape shifting tricksters with animal tails. Yeah, that apparently happens a lot. That’s all for now. Thanks for listening.