391: Japanese Horror: Handsome Bad Man

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 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.

Osode.

Osode, sister of Oewa.

Oewa, wife of.

wife of Yeemon.

Yeemon.

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 Yeemon.

Girl, toothpicks.

Itokihei, the doctor, shifted at the counter, gesturing to the spot in front of him.

Osoda, 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 Moranao.

Oh

oh, I know you, Itokihei grinned.

You're one of Seimon'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?

Itokihe was seemingly so absorbed in twisting the knife, and Osodai so focused on readying hers to jam it in the samurai's neck, that neither of them noticed Nausuke 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, Nausuke 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, Nausuke said.

Osode 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?

Ito Kihei 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.

Na suke 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 Itokihei's master did at court.

Nasuke said he would talk to the young woman.

Itokihei sneered.

All right, well, as much as he should stay and hold this young woman to account for her words, this shop already had the opposite effect in 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 Osode was expecting, and it was what she got.

Her boss, Bisen, was cowering behind the pillar in the back the entire time, only emerging when Itokihei and his granddaughter left.

Osode was also expecting to be struck across the face, but Bison didn't even raise his hand.

Na Suke 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 ten 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, Nausuke said.

He said this job and 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.

Yoshimichisato said he was okay following the family into destitution.

Turns out he wasn't, so he left.

She deserved better.

She deserved

him.

No.

Osode 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

jobs.

Just demean myself with you, Osode nodded.

No.

The answer was still no.

She may have nothing, but that was preferable to him.

Nasuke'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, Osode watched Nausuke disappear around a corner.

And she breathed.

Give me back my wife, Yeeman glowered.

Seimon set down his tea.

So,

right to it then.

She's not not your wife, and she never will be, Saman said.

She's pregnant with my child, Yaman pleaded.

Samon 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, Samon declared.

At this, Yaman laughed.

Seymon, Saman couldn't even take care of himself.

Wasode was down at the toothpick store during the day, and Samon Saman was out begging by the temple.

I'd rather be a beggar than a thief.

Saman leveled his glance at the young Ronin.

Yeemun laughed.

There it is, the young man clapped to the old.

The main event.

Go ahead, Grandpa.

Explain what you think you know.

Yeemun sat back on the mat.

You stole from our master.

You betrayed him, Saman said.

Yeemun'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.

Yem paused for a moment and then swung his hand.

His clay teacup shattered against a pillar.

So you admit it, the elder Ronin 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 Yeemon'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, Yeemon breathed, betraying no hint of being affected by the gravity of challenging your girlfriend's father to a duel to the death.

Indeed, Samon 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 Angia'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, Yeeman 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.

Towel 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 in the dim, 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, Osode, he said.

She gasped.

She said her name was Omon.

Osode, please, Nasuke said.

It's me.

Nausuke, the Ronin chuckled.

What?

The forum next to him straightened.

Yeah, we had we had such an awkward exchange.

I'm so sorry I forgot 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 room.

Osuke

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.

Um 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.

And she's not with me, that is, he said, tightening his towel.

The woman, misses 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.

Nelsuke was getting more and more angry.

And so did he.

And he paid more.

A lot more.

I can get you someone else, misses Takutsu said.

I don't want someone else.

I want Osode, I mean Omon, 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.

Nosuke said, then why did Mrs.

Takutsu keep her on.

Mrs.

Takutsu 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.

Takutsu rushed to the doorway and then and then she stopped, with a smile.

In the room, Osode embraced the tall, handsome man, his kimono already speckled with tears.

I'll see you at home, the man asked.

Osode dried her eyes and smiled through a sob.

Yes,

yes, of course.

The whole establishment was a buzz.

Oman was Osode, 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 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 eyes stayed on Yoshimichi.

The lantern.

The target is the lantern.

Osoda 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.

Osode hadn't returned home to her father, instead making her own way, waiting for Yoshimichi.

Men like Nausuke 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 Osode's husband, but that will be read after this.

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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?

Naosuke 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 Naosuke 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.

Osodore 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 into Yoshimichi's 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.

Naosuke froze, looking down at the body, and 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.

Samon dropped the stones as Yamon 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.

Yamon had killed enough men to be sure of that.

Seemon fought harder than any man Yeemun 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.

Yeemun popped his blade free.

You pant so loud I could kill you without seeing you, Yeemun said.

Rise.

Nausuke stepped cautiously from the hedge, hand on his own blade.

Yeemun 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?

Yeeman 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, Yeeman laughed.

He squinted.

He recognized the clothing.

Yoshimichi.

Naosuke straightened.

He wasn't one of us.

Take his face, Yeeman ordered.

Nausuke 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 Yeeman.

Who's yours?

Naosuke said, then looked closer at the body, as Yeeman flayed the skin from the man's skull.

Oh.

Seimon.

He was only half finished when it was Yeeman'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.

Yeemun and Nausuke looked at each other as they recognized the voices in the night.

Oeewa and Osode, the daughters of Samon.

Both of the women realized who the bodies were.

Both grieved one, one grieved both.

Come on, Yeemun said, grabbing Nausuke's arm and pulling him back, away from the woman and out of the hedge.

Then the two men found the road and jogged up.

Yeemun'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, 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 Yeemon.

Of course, that she was carrying his child and her father had 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

felt right.

It felt like fate.

Yamon was a different man after he achieved his goal, though.

They married in a simple ceremony and 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.

Yeeman 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 in a mosquito net, her bedding sticking to her during the sweltering nettle 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, and the Neeman, 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 Ugewa sat up.

Was that a scream?

It was a short one.

Mansuke was a fool and broke the man's finger before Yeeman could get a gag in.

You steal from your master and think you can just walk away.

Yeeman looked on the medicine.

Medicine that, up until about a year ago, was the family heirloom of his master, Enya.

Now it was Takami Yeeman'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, another samurai who became destitute when Enga's house fell.

But Ieman 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.

Yeeman pulled the sword off the man's body and removed it from its sheath.

A rusty mess.

Kohei's first scream followed Yeeman tossing it to the floor near the back.

While Yeeman and Bansuke attempted to pry unbroken fingers from the man's fists, Kanzo 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.

Yeeman swore.

Okay, get him up, get him up, get him into the closet.

Yeeman looked in Kohei'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, Yeemun called.

Omaki shuffled in.

She bowed, saying that she was the nurse.

Yes, I know, and the employ of Ito Kihei, Yeemun grimaced.

The woman said she had something from her master, the doctor, the old samurai, to celebrate the birth of Yeemun's son.

A basket of rice and other food, tucked in next to a small piping kettle.

How does Itokihei even know me?

Yeemun waved for Kanzo to take the basket.

Omaki, the nurse, said, well, Yeemung used to be a neighbor of theirs

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 Itokihei sent this medicine.

It would cure the young woman.

Well, we don't need the charity of our enemy, Yeeman said.

Just then another man entered.

Yeeman's heart sunk.

Mosuke,

the pawn broker.

Perfect timing.

This needs to wait.

Yeemon addressed Musuke.

But Musuke only winced.

It did, it had already, and it couldn't any more.

He needed the five gold pieces to settle the account.

For the mosquito net and the nightgown, Yeemun 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 fifteen.

The medicine sloshed in the ancient bottle, with characters printed on it Musuke 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 Yeemun stepped in his path.

What was he doing?

He said it was good.

That five covered the last few weeks.

He required the gown and net, unless Yeemun wanted to keep renting it.

Yeemun 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.

Yeemun seethed.

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,

Omaki, the old nurse from the house of his enemy, demanded.

Mosuke bowed and left.

Thank you.

Yeemun looked at the floorboards.

Thank my master.

In person, Omaki 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 doctor Ito Kihei's home.

His two friends bumbling along behind him, Oewa sounded like Kim, like a conversation he once had with her father.

The last conversation.

She was right, of course,

just like Yeemon had been, except that when Yeemon 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.

Itokihei had been 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, Yeemun intended to get it.

After Sake, after dinner, Itokihei's face beamed.

The good doctor reminisced about the good old days with the young samurai, about the rivalry between the clans, how Yeemun's father-in-law had been like a demon to Lord Morinoa's men.

That son of Yeeman'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 Yeeman's life.

Yeeman looked up at the grinning Itokihe,

sitting next to him.

A woman.

Barely a woman.

She looked as if she was waiting for Yeeman to speak so she could breathe.

This is my granddaughter, Itokihei said.

Hi,

Yeeman 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.

Yeeman 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.

Yeemun 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.

Yeemun and his fellow Ronin were stunned, but Itokihei continued like this sort of thing happened all the time,

because this sort of thing happened all the time.

Itokihei's face grew grim.

He was very,

very sorry then.

About what?

Yeemun's hand went to his sword.

About giving Yeemun an out.

What did the old doctor mean?

Ito Kihei feigned discomfort and distress.

Okay, so this was...

He thought Yeemon 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 Ito Itokihei couldn't allow it.

Not the granddaughter of a samurai lowering herself to work for commoners.

Nor could she be married to a commoner.

Itokihei, oh, Itokihei thought, sorry, he thought that Yeeman 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 Yeeman 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, Oewa 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

burned.

Takuetsu rushed to her aid, but recoiled.

Recoiled when,

even in the lantern light after sunset, he could see what Oewa was becoming.

Yeemun sat up.

Did Itokihei poison his wife?

She'll live, if that's what you mean.

I'm so sorry.

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?

Yeemun rose.

Itokihei's retainers rose in response, but Kihei waved them away.

He could kill Itokihei if he wanted.

Itokihei understood.

But the fact remained, Yeeman'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.

Yeemun listened to what happened to his wife and removed his hand from his sword.

I will never make another umbrella again, Yeeman demanded, after a long moment of deliberation.

Of course.

That's the work of a commoner, Itokihei smiled.

I will marry your granddaughter, but you must recommend me as a retainer, for Lord Morinai.

I will be a samurai again, Yeemun breathed.

I would have done that without you asking, Ito Kihei admitted.

Once again, he wouldn't have his only grandchild married to a commoner.

Yeemun looked at the gold bowls and nodded to his compatriots, his fellow Ronin.

He needed some time to divorce his wife.

The wedding would have to be tomorrow.

Ito Kihei agreed.

Ieeman 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 the worst cronies.

We'll see what happened to Aemon's wife, but that will, once again, be read after this.

Not all group chats are the same, just like not all Adams are the same.

Adam Brody, for instance, uses WhatsApp to pin messages, send events, and settle debates using polls with his friends, all in one group chat.

Makes our guys' night easier.

But Adam Scott group messages with an app that isn't WhatsApp, which means he still can't find that text from his friends about where to meet.

Hang on, still scrolling.

No, the address is here somewhere.

It's time for WhatsApp.

Message privately with everyone.

Drew and Sue and Eminem's Minis.

And baking the surprise birthday cake for Lou.

And Sue forgetting that her oven doesn't really work.

And Drew remembering that they don't have flour.

And Lou getting home early from work, which he never does.

And Drew and Sue using the rest of the tubes of Eminem's Minis as party poppers instead.

I think this is one of those moments where people say, it's the thought that counts.

MMs, it's more fun together.

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Today on Hay Culligan, sustainability and better water.

Here, Sam.

Hey, Culligan, I'm really into sustainability, my clothes, my utensils, my food.

But how do I get more more sustainability from my water?

Super question, Sam.

And the answer is an always-on drinking water system from Culligan, which helps eliminate the equivalent of 15 billion single-use plastic bottles a year.

Whoa, that's a ton of sustainability.

416,000 tons, Sam, and we're already on the way.

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Why are you standing outside?

Takuetsu said it was...

it was Oewa.

She.

She's been transformed into a horrifying monster?

Yeeman said, yeah.

He slid the door open and went inside.

To Takuetsu, Yeeman seemed hardened, completely unaffected.

The face, still in shadow, was gray, green.

One eye had sunk so far back into 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?

Yeeman 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 Yeeman 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 Takuetsu's hands.

The Masseuse remained frozen.

Um

what?

Um what?

That's you, that's what you sound like, Hyeeman 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, Yeeman ordered, hefting the silken nets off to the pawnbroker.

I'm not gonna do it!

Takuetsu shrieked as Oyewa found the rusted sword on the floor and lunged.

Takuetsu wasn't a samurai, but thankfully neither was Oyewa.

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.

Oyewa 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

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, just barely clinging to her head.

What

happened to her?

Takuetsu sighed.

It was Itzo Kihei and his house.

The granddaughter, Ume, was obsessed with Yeeman.

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 Oyeman was leaving her for.

All fury, all hatred, all anguish left her eyes.

Oyewo was completely serene.

And Takuetsu was even more terrified of her.

I will go thank him.

I will go thank Itokihei and his granddaughter.

Oyewa began to chuckle.

Takuetsu went to the baby, and when he returned, Oewa 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, Oiewa said that none of them would ever find peace.

She had nothing but hatred for Yeeman, the house of Kihei, and the Ito family.

My fury will not rest until it reaches its goal.

She grinned in Takuetsu's face, and he shuddered.

At the last moment he grabbed her sleeve, begging her not to go out, the 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.

Oiewa, her gray 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, Yeaman demanded when he strode up.

The wedding was in hours, 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 Yeeman swept open the door to see...

I'm so sorry, Takuetsu managed.

Why?

This is fantastic!

Yeemon 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, Yaman 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, Yeemun's new wife, said, entering the house.

It would be temporary, of course, once Yeemun's lord supplied a new mansion.

And she left without the baby?

Itokihei said.

Yeemun nodded, yes, that did present a problem.

Itokihei said he wouldn't hear of it.

He and Omaki would stay there tonight.

The Yeemun 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 Yeemun understand?

Yeeman cringed a little bit.

Yeah, he didn't think that 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 Yeeman'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, 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 Oewa.

with her sunken eye and scars and bloody hair now creeping down the back of her skull.

Her sparse gray kimono clung to her.

The room grew red all around him.

It grew dark and sickly.

Yes, Yeeman, you are my husband.

She smiled and rose.

But Yeeman 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.

Ieemun 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, Oiewa.

He saw the last look of terror frozen on Umei'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...

Yeeman, what's going on in there?

He heard from outside.

But it wasn't Itokihei's voice.

It was...

his...

his servant, Kohei.

Yeeman slid the door open to see the servant Kohei, the man whose body body he last saw bobbing in the river nailed to a door,

sitting bloated, holding his son.

I need the medicine, master.

Please.

Servant Kohei 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 Itokohei on this one, as Yeemon came to his senses.

He was cursed.

He

hadn't meant to.

She, she had done this, Oiewa.

His hand shook as he managed to sheath the sword.

Omaki cowered in the corner, Yeemon'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 Yeeman for months.

There was a noise behind her and she turned, dagger out.

She relaxed and sheathed it.

It was some eel catcher who had his hands up.

Oyumiu said that she was sorry.

She was looking for someone, but it seemed like her search was over.

Tamaya Yeeman?

The eel catcher rubbed the stubble on his chin.

Yeah.

Yeeman, 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.

Oyumi 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 Iyumi 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 Eel 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.

Pit 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 Yamon.

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, Nausuke, Yeeman said.

Absolutely.

Hey, we have to look out for each other, Naosuke said.

You really are a true monster, you know.

The man hefted his buckets and made his way down the hill.

When he did, Yeeman'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.

Osode 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 Yeeman might be faithless, she would stay faithful.

That's just who she was.

Osode had known for almost two months now that her sister was gone.

Now,

she was certain.

It was Yeeman.

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 Osode'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 incense and we're closed anyway, Nausuke 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.

Nausuke groaned and resumed washing the plates in the basin.

Osode 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 Nausuke, 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.

Osode 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.

Looked like she had seen a ghost.

Yoshimichi, she managed.

He's alive.

What?

Nasuke staggered.

Osode nodded.

Yes.

He traded clothes with a stranger that night.

He suspected you.

Osuke grew serious.

So

she knew?

I'm married to you now.

He is.

He's a ghost.

We just need to make that true, Mosode 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 you are.

I just

want to move on, Osode 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 Nausuke behind the screen and with a cry, he would stab through it.

It was straightforward.

Nausuke 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.

Naosuke was there, standing on the other side of the screen, but Osode wasn't by his side.

What was going on?

Now, Osode 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 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 Nausuke 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.

Nazuke found the letters in the folds of Osode'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.

Osoda only had her sister.

He read on and

froze.

The letter fluttered to the ground, and Nausuke turned and wretched.

The letter detailed Osode'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 Nausuke 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.

Yaemon shivered.

Everyone is here.

Everyone is here,

he said.

No,

only me, Yoshimichi declared.

Yeeman gasped and jumped, turning to see the samurai sword out.

And I have come to deliver justice for my sister-in-law, Huywa.

No, no, you don't understand.

Yeeman rose, smiling.

Everyone,

everyone is here.

He gestured all around.

To those Yoshimichi couldn't see, but Huieman could, because they never left him.

Ume and Itokihei, carrying their heads.

Omaki and Uyumi, dripping and bloated from the river.

Kohe and Samon, their wounds festering and maggot-ridden.

And always,

always,

Huayewa.

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 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 Yeemon killed Yumei and Itokihei.

Yeemon 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.

Yeeman looked off in the darkness to eyes that glowed from the water.

Rising, her matted head nodded.

Who

will I kill now?

Yeeman's voice quavered.

He stepped toward Yoshimichi.

It was hardly a duel.

Yeeman 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 Yeeman 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 Yeeman'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.

Yeeman 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, Yeeman didn't deserve that, either.

What?

You can't leave me here with...

with them.

But Yuchimichi was already gone, making his way back down the hills to bury his wife, leaving Yeemon 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 Aewa 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 their 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, and 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 in Discord who recommended this, Sophonispa, also offered up an interpretation.

Women had no power, obviously.

Yeemon was perfectly within his rights, according to the story, to abandon his ailing, postpartum wife.

And when Seimon and Itokihei died, Seimon's daughters had to go with men who were terrible for them.

And Itokihei's daughter and nurse had to resort to begging by the river.

Sofanispa 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 there's nothing the man can do, even if he has a castle and a sword.

Oyewa 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 Water Lord's domain.

The water, presumably.

Pretty sure it was a river.

I'm not even sure what she asked, and we don't know, but the Water Lord 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 Water Lord would claim her unborn child.

Once again, pretty steep price for a clean jar.

She accepted it, though, and named the child Jindai Sirinde.

Quote, 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 jendae 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 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 jende 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 in that those heads do not regenerate.

Jean Day's boyfriend chopped off all seven.

and Water Lord let go,

dropping into the river.

I guess the Water Lord 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 Wiser.

Our theme song is by Broke for Free, and the Creature of the Week music is by Steve Colmes.

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.

Today on Hay Culligan, sustainability and better water.

Here, Sam.

Hey, Culligan, I'm really into sustainability.

My clothes, my utensils, my food.

But how do I get more sustainability from my water?

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Whoa, that's a ton of sustainability.

416,000 tons, Sam, and we're already on the way.

Let us help you out with a free in-home water test with the local Culligan water expert at Culligan.com.

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