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From Shinoda Myōjin to Sakaki no Mae: the history of Kuzunoha (and a few others)

Abeno by Shūhō Yamakawa (public domain; via wikimedia commons)

A few months ago I asked a more or less representative group of potential readers how familiar they are with Kuzunoha. Save for a single tongue in check response, "that's the Devil Summoner guy with the sideburns, right", the results were fairly uniform: most people are aware that she is a fox and the mother of Abe no Seimei - but not much beyond that.

Kuzunoha is simultaneously probably the single most famous Abe no Seimei-adjacent literary character today, overshadowing even actual historical figures. She arguably changed the Abe no Seimei “canon” in a way few other works did. Even with the “onmyōdō boom” still in full swing in modern popculture, many characters from earlier Seimei tradition remain obscure - but Kuzunoha is arguably equally as famous as her son.

This prominence lead to a variety of misconceptions, most notably to viewing the story according to which Seimei was the son of a fox as considerably older and more integral to his fame than in reality. In particularly disreputable online sources you might even see it being presented as THE fox romance story, an archetype example from the dawn of history of Japanese literature. However, despite stories about foxes and onmyōji both being a mainstay of popular entertainment through the middle ages already, Kuzunoha was only invented in the Edo period - and in the case of most of the major developments pertaining to her we can pinpoint the exact sources.

Read on to find out how the story of Kuzunoha arose and changed through the Edo period, whether the character was always known under this name, what she had to do with Kamo no Yasunori, and more. An excursus will also introduce you to the works and life of Kamo no Yasunori no musume, possibly the most unique thinker of the Heian period. That’s not all you will be able to learn, though.The second half of the article goes beyond Kuzunoha, and introduces a selection of other characters from broadly understood Seimei literature - from Seimei’s wife to an immortal Chinese disciple of the bodhisattva Monju. It was initially intended as a standalone sequel, but I figured it would be preferable to publish both halves in one go. Is listening to gossip a form of divination? How many bones do you need to resurrect a person? What do eclipses have to do with board games? Answers to all these questions - and more - await under the cut!

Before Kuzunoha: introductory notes on foxes in medieval and early modern Japan

Before discussing the development of the story of Kuzunoha, it’s necessary to briefly summarize the history of foxes in Japanese literature. It arguably starts with one of the earliest Japanese chronicles, the Nihon Shoki (720). However, foxes only really appear there as omens. The relevant entries are very brief and essentially boil down to reporting an unusual (for example albinistic) fox was sighted somewhere, or alternatively that a regular fox acted in an unusual way. It’s hard to really call them “stories”. They also don’t really indicate that foxes were regarded as shapeshifters just yet, in contrast with contemporary Chinese sources. The oldest example of a Japanese story involving a fox shapeshifting into a woman - arguably the most famous and widespread subgenre of “fox literature” - appears in the setsuwa collection Nihon Ryōiki (日本霊異記), dated to the early ninth century. This motif, like many other stock elements of fox tales, originates in China. Due to space constraints it is not possible to discuss the development of this genre on the mainland, but it will suffice to say that the literary image of foxes was already fairly solid by the Tang period. A good example of a classic Chinese fox story of a similar sort as the Nihon Ryōiki one is The Tale of Miss Ren from the late eighth century. In both cases, the disguise eventually comes undone, and the true identity of the fox character comes to light, which forces her to leave her human life behind. This remained a mainstay in later periods.

An illustration from Tamamizu Monogatari (Kyoto University Rare Materials Digital Archive; reproduced here for educational purposes only)

The importance of foxes in Japanese literature grew considerably in the “middle ages”, the Kamakura and Muromachi periods. The popularity of stories about animals acting like humans in general increased, in no small part due to the growth of new ideas about the nature of enlightenment. The Tendai school of esoteric Buddhism advanced the view that every living being possessed an innate Buddha nature, and could thus attain enlightenment. A good example of a medieval fox story is Tamamizu Monogatari. It combines elements already present in these discussed earlier, though they are reconfigured in unexpected ways; furthermore, the eponymous fox character’s religious considerations are a fairly major part of the plot. It is worth noting that the story of Tamamo no Mae, Kuzunoha’s main competitor for the title of most famous fox character in the history of Japanese literature, first developed in the middle ages too. However, it is somewhat unconventional in that the original story is just a really weird twist on Sutra of Humane Kings - the fox theming is ultimately somewhat superficial.

The newfound popularity of fox tales never really declined afterwards, and many new ones arose through the Edo period in a variety of mediums, including but not limited to novels, puppet plays and kabuki. The old material was often reinterpreted in new, unexpected ways to suit the evolving taste of the audience. This is the environment in which Kuzunoha arose.

The evolution of Kuzunoha, from Hoki-shō to kabuki

The oldest prototype of Kuzunoha appears in the Hoki-shō (簠簋抄; “The ritual containers, annotated”), an early seventeenth century commentary on one of the most famous medieval religious treatises, Sangoku Sōden Onmyō Kankatsu Hoki Naiden Kin’u Gyokuto Shū (三國相傳陰陽輨轄簠簋内伝金烏玉兎集, “The Book of the Gold Crow and the Jade Rabbit, Secret and Exposed, of the Round Vessel and the Square Vessel, the Wheel and the Wedge, the Yin and the Yang, Transmitted Through the Three Countries” - the title is basically a long enumeration of various dualities representing yin and yang; as you will soon see, various fictional tomes present in stories about Seimei reference it) or Hoki Naiden (簠簋内伝) for short. Its compiler (or compilers) collected multiple, often contradictory, tales about the source of Abe no Seimei’s supposed supernatural powers - many of which were seemingly adaptations of completely unrelated folk tales.

One of them states that Seimei’s mother wasn’t a human, but donned a human guise before giving birth to him. At the age of three Seimei was abandoned by her, but as a parting gift he received a poem explaining that he will be able to meet her in the Shinoda forest in the Izumi province. Many years later, Seimei recalled the poem and decided to travel there to pray at a local shrine. Its deity, known simply as Shinoda Myōjin (信太明神; Myōjin, “bright deity”, is a common historical title of local deities, cf. the likes of Shinra Myōjin or Sekizan Myōjin), appeared to him in the form of an old fox, and told him she is his mother. It’s not Seimei’s only “origin story” collected in this volume, though - elsewhere it states that he was a being from the Dragon Palace (龍宮, Ryūgū). This seemingly didn’t catch on, and we have yet to see a modern work bold enough to make him some sort of fishman.

Hoki-shō does not explain why Seimei’s mother left him, but another likely contemporary collection of short tales, Tsuki no Karumo Shū (“Seaweed gathered in the moonlight”), provides a hint: here Seimei’s mother composes the poem and leaves because his father cheated on her. She is later encountered first by her ex, and then by Seimei, in the Shinoda forest, in both cases taking the form of a fox, much like in the Hoki-shō. She also provides her son with a jewel which lets him understand animals - an item which also appears in other legends about him, though not necessarily in the same context. Curiously, outside of this supernatural episode, this work generally follows historical information about Seimei. It correctly relays that his father was a low ranking court official and that he studied under the famous onmyōji Kamo no Yasunori.

A breakthrough in the history of Kuzunoha occurred with the publication of Ryōi Asai’s Abe no Seimei Monogatari (安倍晴明物語; “The story of Abe no Seimei) in 1662. Various disconnected legends collected in the Hoki-shō and similar sources came to be forged into a single narrative for the first time ever, which turned out to be a successful approach. Seimei, while never really forgotten, became a favorite of Edo period audiences, and a “Seimei boom” of sorts occurred, with numerous new works focused on his life and exploits being published.

Young Seimei meeting Otohime, as described in Abe no Seimei Monogatari(public domain, via National Archives of Japan Digital Archive; all illustrations from this novel included in this article have been sourced from these scans; another set can be found on the website of the Waseda University Library)

It would be unfair to say that Abe no Seimei Monogatari is just a direct adaptation of Hoki-shō, though. It is an innovative work in many ways, and in some cases rewrites completely unrelated legends with Seimei as the protagonist. For instance, Seimei at one point visits the dragon palace to help Otohime in what is obviously a novel twist on the tale of Urashima Tarō (though it might very well be an echo of his second origin story from the Hoki-shō) - just without any of the repercussions for the protagonist. Seimei was, presumably, built different, to put it colloquially.

Innovations are also present in the section of the story dealing with Seimei’s mother. In contrast with the sources discussed above, Abe no Seimei Monogatari also provides his father with a name - Abe no Yasuna (安倍保名). He is introduced as a farmer living in Abeno, a village near the Shinoda forest (in earlier legends Seimei was said to hail from Nekoshima, located near Hitachi). The reason why the mother leaves is curiously not provided. The novel simply states that one summer day she abandoned her family - and that’s really it for her relevance.

It is not certain if Abe no Seimei Monogatari was a direct influence on the next major work dealing with Seimei's origin, the 1674 puppet play Shinodazuma Tsurigitsune Tsuketari Abe no Seimei Shusshō (しのだづまつりぎつね并あべ晴明出生; “The Shinoda wife, fox trapping and the birth of Abe no Seimei”). While such a connection is not impossible, it might have alternatively depended on a now lost sekkyōbushi (説経節), a type of Buddhist ballad accompanied by shamisen and puppet performances. However, no direct evidence for the story of Kuzunoha ever being adapted in such a form exists.

Regardless of whether there is a connection or not, the play does follow Abe no Seimei Monogatari when it comes to the identity of the eponymous character’s father. It additionally establishes that Yasuna owns the mystic tome Hoki Naiden, here described as a family heirloom passed down since the times of Abe no Nakamaro (more on him later). Most importantly for the topic of this article, many new details regarding the marriage of Seimei’s parents emerge here for the first time.

Actor Nakayama Bun'emon as Ishikawa Akuemon (ukiyo-e.org; reproduced here for educational purposes only)

A new character shows up in the relevant part of the story, Ishikawa Akuemon (石川悪右衛門), a brother of Dōman, Seimei’s rival from Abe no Seimei Monogatari and a variety of other sources. While Dōman is most likely based on a historical person (though one with no real relation to Seimei - more on that in a sec), Akuemon is entirely fictional. Through Dōman’s influence he received a government post near the Shinoda forest. His modus operandi is to obtain the liver of a white fox, since his brother told him it can be used to heal his ailing wife. Yasuna encounters him during a hunt, and saves a fox from him. This leads to a fight in which he almost ends up killed, until another fox intervenes. By disguising himself as a priest serving in Akuemon’s family temple he tricks him into sparing Yasuna’s life.

Some time later, Yasuna saves a woman from drowning, and subsequently marries her. He has no choice but to live with her in the Shinoda forest, since through a complex string of events resulting from Akuemon killing his father Abe no Yasuaki (安倍泰明) he had to kill him (and is effectively an outlaw, as I understand). He and the woman eventually have a son.

When the son - who is, obviously, Abe no Seimei - is seven years old, his mother accidentally reveals to him that she is a fox who took human form. She becomes so enchanted by blooming chrysanthemums that she loses grasp of her disguise. Kid Seimei is horrified by this revelation, and his mother decides she has to leave. She leaves a letter for him in which she expresses her sadness about this turn of events, and another for Yasuna, in which she reveals that she was the fox he saved, and that everything that happened between them since was an elaborate way to repay that favor.

It might be worth noting that the idea that foxes were particularly fond of chrysanthemums was a well established trope. It goes back to a poem by Bai Juyi, who in turn influenced a host of classic Japanese poets, including but not limited to Miyako no Yoshika, Ki no Haseo, Shimada no Tadaomi, Ono no Takamura and Sugawara no Michizane. By the Edo period, it was essentially common knowledge, so the scene was less surprising to contemporary audiences than it might be for us.

Despite all of the innovations in Shinodazuma Tsurigitsune Tsuketari Abe no Seimei Shusshō, its author felt no need to provide Yasuna’s wife with a name. That wasn’t exactly unique, though it’s worth stressing once again that the first version of this character from Hoki-shō for all intents and purposes did have a name, Shinoda Myōjin.

The name Kuzunoha appears for the first time in the kabuki play Shinodazuma (信太妻) from 1699. However, its origin lies in Shinodazuma Tsurigitsune Tsuketari Abe no Seimei Shusshō. A poem in the letter Seimei receives from his mother in it ends with the line “the kudzu leaves whose backs are visible” - urami kuzunoha (うらみ葛の葉). This phrase appears fairly common in waka poems. Here it serves as a wordplay - hiragana is utilized because depending on the kanji used, urami can refer not just to the underside of a leaf (裏見) but also to bitterness or resentment (怨み or 恨み). According to Cody M. Poulton, the poem actually originates in a story unrelated to Seimei which circulated in the Izumi province. Its protagonist is a hunter who saves a wounded fox, who then takes the form of a woman and marries him; the similarities are otherwise very vague, as no onmyōdo elements are involved, and the fox commits suicide in the end, after leaving behind the poem.

Naming Kuzunoha was not the only innovation of Shinodazuma. It also makes Akuemon the central villain, eliminating Dōman altogether. His villainy reaches truly cartoony heights - before starting the fox hunt already present in the earlier play he actually tries to pressure a priest at a shrine whose kami uses these animals as messengers to procure a white specimen for him.

Some more focus is given to his wife. In the earlier play, not much is said about her other than that she is sick and Akuemon is convinced he knows how to remedy that. She doesn’t even receive a name. In Shinodazuma she is called Satsuki no Mae. Furthermore, we learn that she secretly hates her husband and is only feigning an illness to avoid him. Her real love is a certain Mitani no Zenji, a retainer of Abe no Yasuna. This character already appears in a very minor role in Shinodazuma Tsurigitsune Tsuketari Abe no Seimei Shusshō, but there he is a retainer of Yasuna’s father, not Yasuna himself.

Zenji’s relevance doesn’t end there. Kuzunoha is actually saved by him, not by Yasuna. However, the conventional romance nonetheless happens, though with a twist. Kuzunoha must reveal her true form because Yasuna has an evil younger brother, Dakaku no Suke, who shows up near the end to try to force Kuzunoha to have sex with him. To achieve that he threatens that he will kill kid Seimei. In response, his mother reveals that she is a fox, and flees. Kuzunoha returns one last time in the final scene of the play after Seimei manages to find her in the Shinoda forest with the help of another new character, a cook named Kisuke. This role was apparently added entirely to accommodate the comedic actor Yamatoya Jinbei II (大和屋甚兵衛).

Elements of Shinodazuma and its earlier partial namesake were both incorporated into yet another play, Shinoda no Mori Onna Urakata (“Female Diviner in the Shinoda Forest”), which in turn influenced the single most famous portrayal of Kuzunoha, commonly referred to simply as, nomen omen, Kuzunoha. It dates to 1734, and was originally the fourth act of a five act play, Ashiya Dōman Ōuchi Kagami (芦屋道満大内鑑; “A Courtly Mirror of Ashiya Dōman”) by Izumo Takeda (竹田出雲) II. However, the full version is rarely performed today. As you can probably guess from the title, Ashiya Dōman Ōuchi Kagami puts Dōman, here also referred to as Ashiya no Hyōe Michitaru (芦屋兵衛道満), back into the spotlight, reversing the trend of making Akuemon more prominent. The plot is essentially a succession struggle between him and Abe no Yasuna, with a variety of unexpected twists. Both of them are portrayed as students of Kamo no Yasunori (here written as 加茂保憲 instead of the expected 賀茂保憲), who passes away prematurely without designating an heir from among his disciples. This is quite troublesome, not least because the legitimate heir will gain control over the mystical tome Kin’u Gyokuto Shū (金鳥玉兎集), which originally belonged to a Chinese sage named Hakudō (this is not the last time you’ll see him in this article) before being passed down to Yasunori. Various factions in the court aim to secure control over it to effectively control the country with the mystical divinatory knowledge contained within.

Sakaki no Mae (Minneapolis Institute of Art; reproduced here for educational purposes only)

While most characters are unaware of this, Yasunori intended to have his adopted daughter Sakaki no Mae (榊の前) marry Yasuna, and to give him Kin’u Gyokuto Shū. However, as he failed to do so in time, and only provided his daughter with a key to the secret spot where the book is hidden, a plot is set in motion by his wife. She hides the book and accuses Sakaki no Mae of stealing it to give it to Yasuna against her father’s wishes. Sakaki, who is innocent and in fact refused to open the hiding spot of the book (not that it accomplished much since her stepmother illicitly prepared a copy of the key), decides to put the blame entirely on herself to protect Yasuna and then commits suicide. However, when Yasuna learns about that he is overcome by grief and disappears.

Meanwhile, the widow’s brother Jibu no Tayū (治部大輔), who is also her co-conspirator, meets with his son-in-law Michitaru to give him the stolen Kin’u Gyokuto Shū. He orders him to use the book to divine how to make sure Miyasudokoro (御息所; not the Tale of Genji character), one of crown prince Sakuragi’s (桜木親王) concubines, who belongs to the same courtly faction, will be the first to conceive an heir. Michitaru states that the best way will be the dakini no hō (荼枳尼の法) a secret ritual which requires the liver of a white fox. Jibu no Tayū’s minion Akuemon, who as far as I can tell is not a relative of Michitaru/Dōman here, is tasked with procuring it, since he comes from an area where white foxes can be easily found.

It should be noted here that Michitaru is himself not necessarily portrayed as malevolent in this scene. While he is a participant in this scheme, and even performs rituals meant to help Akuemon with killing Rokunokimi (六の君; also not the Tale of Genji character), the concubine favored by Jibu no Tayū’s rivals, he only acts under the threat of losing both Kin’u Gyokuto Shū and his wife Tsukubane (築羽根).

All of the soap opera-worthy courtly drama forms the first act of the play. Kuzunoha only appears in the second. As we learn, she is the younger sister of Sakaki no Mae, and looks exactly the same as her. Yasuna encounters her when he reaches the Shinoda forest. Due to lacking clarity of mind, he at first assumes that he got reunited with Sakaki no Mae. However, Kuzunoha manages to help him overcome his grief, and explains she is not who she assumes she is. Yasuna is nonetheless still smitten, and asks her parents (it would appear Kuzunoha was not adopted by Kamo no Yasunori unlike her sister), Shinoda no Shōji (信太庄司) and his wife Shigarami (柵), to let them get married.

Alas, it turns out this is impossible, because Kuzunoha’s parents already promised her to her cousin… Akuemon. Following the universal principle of “speak of the devil and he doth appear”, Akuemon promptly appears, chasing a white fox to complete the mission he was entrusted with earlier. He is instantly thwarted by Yasuna and his attendant Yokanbei (与勘平). The latter then leads Kuzunoha and her parents to safety, but Yasuna apparently doesn’t notice this, and for a moment he fears that she was kidnapped. However, his worries soon disappear, as she appears again out of nowhere. In the culmination of the second act, the two then decide to hide for some time in a remote village, Abeno (the same one as in Abe no Seimei Monogatari).

What follows sounds almost like a comedy of errors. Long story short, it turns out that Michitaru has in fact saved Rokunokimi from Akuemon and hid her in his house. When Jibu no Tayū learns about this, he orders her to be killed (again), which triggers a chain reaction. Michitaru by accident kills his father, who had no part in the plot, but tried to take the blame to shield his son from Jibu no Tayū’s wrath. Michitaru’s wife then kills her father, as she has learned about his nefarious intentions and about pressuring Michitaru into helping him. In the aftermath of all of that, Michitaru realizes he has had enough and should go back to honest onmyōdo practice he was supposed to engage in as a student of Kamo no Yasunori full time. He takes the new name Dōman to signify his transformation.

Seimei and Dōman, as depicted by Hokusai (wikimedia commons)

As I already pointed out earlier, the play doesn’t follow Dōman’s usual characterization. Quite the opposite, it’s pretty much a conscious reversal - that’s where the “mirror” in the title actually comes from. Other fictional portrayals of Dōman make him a villainous counterpart of Seimei, and Edo period audiences were well aware of that. There was no shortage of works focused on their rivalry. It’s explored in detail in Abe no Seimei Monogatari, but also for example in the 1792 novel Abe no Seimei Ichidaiki (安倍晴明一代記, “Abe no Seimei’s Life Story”).

It’s worth noting that Dōman’s villainy might have a vague historical basis. It generally assumed that he was inspired by a certain, nomen omen, Dōman (道満), known from the Seiji Yōryaku (政事要略). He was reportedly employed by Takashina no Mitsuko (高階光子) in 1008. He is described as a hōshi onmyōji (法師陰陽師), literally “ priest onmyōji” - a designation for an unofficial onmyōji, basically. Such individuals were seemingly particularly commonly hired by courtiers to curse their rivals (something a regular onmyōji was legally prohibited from engaging with). A reference to a hōshi onmyōji being accused of that is preserved in Fujiwara no Sanesuki’s diary, the Shōyūki (小右記), for example. It is not entirely uncertain if the historical Dōman was involved in similar activities, it is clear that his fictional derivative is based on the curse specialists.

The connection between history and fiction should not be overestimated, though. The kinship between the historical and fictional Dōmans is ultimately quite vague, and the former didn’t really have anything to do with Seimei; their rivalry is an entirely fictitious invention. In particularly it’s worth pointing out it’s basically the standard to portray Dōman as older than Seimei, while the only references to his historical counterpart postdate Seimei’s death by three years - and considering he was unusually long-lived, it’s easier to assume they had nothing to do with each other than that Dōman was somehow even older than him.

Putting the historical Dōman aside, the third act was essentially custom tailored towards the tastes of contemporary audiences, but surprisingly failed to leave a lasting impact. It is instead the fourth act which became the most famous part of the play, and the most famous portrayal of Kuzunoha. It starts with a timeskip: as we learn, Yasuna and Kuzunoha got married and had a son, who is now five years old. However, it turns out that his mother is in fact not the real Kuzunoha. This is revealed when she appears with her parents to visit Yasuna - she’s been bedridden for years in the aftermath of the escape, and only recovered recently. Her parents decided to let her and Yasuna get married. However, they don’t find him at home, since he left to journey to a number of religious sites to pray for his family. They only encounter his wife. As you can probably guess, it turns out that the “Kuzunoha” Yasuna spent the past half a decade with is in fact the fox he saved from Akuemon. When this comes to light, she bids farewell to her son, and tells him to treat the real Kuzunoha as his mother instead from now on.

When Yasuna returns, and learns what happened from the real Kuzunoha, he decides that they need to find the fox Kuzunoha. His son and the real Kuzunoha decide to assist him. Like in every other version involving a search, they eventually manage to find the fox Kuzunoha in the Shinoda forest. She shows herself to them in her true form, that of a century old white fox, and reveals that while she has cast away her earthly attachments, she plans to nonetheless still protect her son. However, to that end she had to cast away her human disguise anyway, as a fox who falls in love with a human will eventually lose all supernatural abilities otherwise. This idea is an invention of the author (had this been an established motif earlier, Tamamizu Monogatari’s namesake protagonist would have no inner dilemmas to struggle with, arguably).

After this matter is settled, the protagonists encounter Dōman. Since they are not aware of his recent deeds, they initially assume that his visit is part of some new scheme. They also accuse him of engineering the theft of Kin’u Gyokuto Shū. However, he explains that he was a tool in an evil plot before, but had a change of heart. He admits the theft accusation is not unfounded, but also that he is not responsible for Sakaki no Mae’s suicide. To atone for his past deeds, he gives the book to Yasuna. However, he says that he is too old to use it, and Dōman should instead pass it on to his son (this is probably another intentional subversion - as you’ll see later, in another story Dōman crafts an elaborate scheme to steal this book from Seimei). When the kid receives the book, he is instantly able to interpret its title. He explains that it refers to a rabbit who lives on the moon and a crow who lives in the sun, and that the book contains knowledge necessary to understand everything on earth and in heaven. Dōman praises Yasuna for teaching his son well, but he clarifies that the boy must have inherited the talent of his biological mother, who was a white fox.

Dōman is aware of a case of a supernaturally gifted kid born to a human-fox couple in China (I’m not sure if this references a specific story, also note this is not an universal motif - in at least one Tang period tale children from a similar relationship die prematurely), and therefore to verify Yasuna's claim decides to test his son’s skills. The boy effortlessly answers all of his questions. Dōman is so impressed he bestows the name Seimei upon him - he was simply referred to as Dōji (童子, “boy” - not exactly a creative name) before. To celebrate, Yasuna and Dōman decide to visit the Shinoda shrine, leaving Kuzunoha and Seimei behind.

Nakamura Utaemon III as Yakanbei, Sawamura Kunitarō II as Kuzunoha, and Arashi Rikan II as Yokanbei (Museum of Fine Arts Boston; reproduced here for educational purposes only)

Since things are evidently going too well, Akuemon suddenly appears once again, accompanied by a group of thugs. He confronts the protagonists and tries to kidnap the real Kuzunoha, but his plan is foiled by the intervention of Yokanbei and an associate of fox Kuzunoha, another white fox, who turns into a copy of him. He calls himself Yakanbei (野干平) - a pun on Yokanbei’s name and the term yakan (射干; from Chinese yegan), which could refer either to a fox-like legendary animal, a jackal, or simply a fox. The scene is intentionally comedic, and it actually takes Yokanbei a while to realize there’s a copy of him running around. In some stage adaptations the sequence was extended further with the appearance of a female servant who is yet another fox in disguise.

After the successful rescue yet another timeskip happens. The final act shows Seimei at the age of eight. His parents decide to finally take him to Kyoto. He is already renowned for his skill, and the crown prince mentioned in passing earlier wants to meet him. However, after arriving in the capital Yasuna temporarily leaves his family, and through an unlucky twist of fate ends up killed by Akuemon, who is busy with a new scheme to curse Rokunokimi. Thankfully, when he later arrives in the court, carrying a crate which contains both a doll meant to be utilized to that end and Yasuna’s corpse, the plot is revealed through a joint effort of Seimei and Dōman. Seimei then resurrects his father, while Akuemon is executed… and that’s where the story ends (with no foxes in sight).

In the end, it might appear at first glance the play regarded as the most famous take on Kuzunoha doesn’t contain all that much Kuzunoha - not the fox Kuzunoha, at least. It’s really a play about Dōman and Yasuna in the end. Kuzunoha actually comes across as sort of expandable and forgettable in dry summaries of the play, and I don’t think mine really gives a different impression. To be fair, it’s actually a genuine theory that the apparent disposability of female characters in this case served as a criticism of the low position of women in Tokugawa society.

Regardless of whether this is true or not, it was ultimately Kuzunoha, and not Dōman, who made the play famous - and that’s why, as I briefly mentioned earlier, it’s uncommon to see the whole play on stage. It’s typically reduced just to act IV - which does actually revolve around Kuzunoha (or, to be more precise, Kuzunohas). There are two reasons behind that.

For starters, the scene of a mother parting with her child emotionally resonated with Edo period audiences to a greater degree than anything else Ashiya Dōman Ōuchi Kagami had to offer. Sure, it might be short, especially compared to the lengthy sections dealing with multi-layered courtly intrigues - but it had something they lacked: it was relatable. Making sure plays resonate with audiences, which consisted largely of commoners - often commoners who represented relatively historically recent social strata molded by changes in economy in the Edo period at that - was a common concern of playwrights. While many dealt with the distant past - especially the Heian period and the tumultuous transition into the middle ages - conscious effort was often made to incorporate contemporary elements, or to emphasize down to earth concerns, precisely to that end. The results weren’t always successful, and in some cases end up heavenly-handed and unintentionally comedic, but Takeda Izumo II evidently pulled it off. It worked so well that the rest of the play became basically unnecessary.

Furthermore, whether adapted in the form of a puppet play (as originally intended) or kabuki, the role of Kuzunoha was considered suitable for showcasing the skills of performers. Special effects, and in particular transformations from one character into another, were incredibly popular - that’s why so many plays from the Edo period have plots involving shapeshifters, doubles, mistaken identity or a combination of some or all of those elements. Foxes naturally provide a great venue for that - and Kuzunoha isn’t even the only time Takeda Izumo II capitalized on it (you will likely get to see another famous example on this blog in a few months).

Kuzunoha writing her parting poem with a brush held in her teeth (wikimedia commons)

When it comes to puppet plays, the greatest accomplishment of Kuzunoha was arguably facilitating the invention of a complex type of puppet requiring three people to operate, utilized for the first time in the scene involving her, Yokanbei and Yakanbei. In kabuki adaptations, Kuzunoha’s shapeshifting between human and fox forms is reflected by rapid change of costumes - basically the default way to measure an actor’s skill. Sometimes this is boosted further by speech quirks also used for other fox characters in kabuki. Furthermore, the actor playing her is often expected to write the poem she leaves before abandoning her family holding a brush in his (it’s an onnagata role, ie. a female character played by a man) teeth, cradling a prop representing infant not-yet-Seimei in both hands. A Meiji innovation making the role even more challenging was to have one actor play both Kuzunohas - which, naturally, required even faster costume changes. In some cases, a hat with a fox mask hidden in it is used to make it particularly rapid. Through this combination of factors, Kuzunoha, initially a minor addition to a corpus of legends about a popular protagonist which grew so large it started to absorb unrelated stories, eventually actually managed to outshine Seimei himself. Of course, it wasn’t that straightforward; Seimei’s disappearance from public consciousness didn’t just boil down to a specific kabuki attaining unexpected levels of renown. It’s also important to bear in mind that onmyōdō as a whole largely vanished from public consciousness after the Meiji reforms - and that even before them, the term didn’t necessarily invoke the image of a Heian period court official anymore (see my previous article dealing with relevant matters for more context). Even though Seimei, an at least vaguely Heian-inspired idea of onmyōdō, and the traditional villainous Dōman all made a comeback after the classic sources were “rediscovered” by new authors starting with the 1980s, Kuzunoha remains a fairly major component of what I earlier described as an “informal Seimei canon” - to the point it’s probably not hard to find people convinced she was a part of it from the very beginning. In that capacity she is a remarkable outlier. Most of the other Edo innovations are now forgotten, and Konjaku Monogatari and other early collections once again define Seimei just as they did for late Heian and early medieval audiences. And yet, the story of the most famous onmyōji being born as the son of a fox and subsequently abandoned evidently continues to resonate with new audiences.

Nothing like Kuzunoha: an excursus about the real daughter of Kamo no Yasunori

There’s an argument to be made that Seimei isn’t the only historical figure who ended up existing in the shadow of Kuzunoha, or more broadly of Ashiya Dōman Ōuchi Kagami. While Kuzunoha and Sakaki no Mae are both fictional characters, the historical Kamo no Yasunori actually did have at least one daughter. It’s safe to say she didn’t influence the creation of any of her fictional “siblings”, though. For all intents and purposes, she went down in history only as Kamo no Yasunori no Musume (賀茂保憲女), “the daughter of Kamo no Yasunori” - her real name is unknown. I personally think that in absence of any information about her name perhaps it would be preferable to use the epithet she used to refer to herself - Kamo uji naru musume, “a woman of the Kamo clan” - but I am not going to tell you to ignore the consensus, obviously. Since referring to her as “Kamo no Yasunori no musume” would get a bit cumbersome quickly, I hope you don’t mind here I will simply refer to her as “ms. Kamo”, though.

The sum of our knowledge about ms. Kamo’s life and career comes from just a single source - but what a source it is! At some point between 993 or 998, at the age of forty or so, she compiled her own poetry collection, today referred to simply as Kamo no Yasunori no Musume no shū (賀茂保憲女集) - “Kamo no Yasunori no Musume’s poetry collection” (hardly the most creative of titles). The uncertain dating reflects the fact that the only clear evidence in the work itself are references to an illness she at some point contracted, which might have been either smallpox (an epidemic occurred in 993) or measles (an epidemic occurred in 998). A lot is up to interpretation, though the illness at least for a time negatively impacted her eyesight, which seems to point at the second option.

The collection resulting from her efforts has the form of a sequence of around 240 poems accompanied by an autobiographical prose preface. This is not unusual in itself - similar collections consisting from a hundred to three hundred poems were fairly common in the later centuries of the Heian period. They were pioneered by Sone no Yoshitada around 960 or so. Depending on the exact dating of ms. Kamo’s sequence, she was either the first or second woman to contribute to this trend, though. Her contemporary Minamoto no Shigeyuki no Musume (源重之女; as you can probably guess, the daughter of Minamoto no Shigeyuki) compiled a hundred poems long sequence around 994.

While common, the hundred (or more) poem sequences were what can be described as an example of avant garde or outsider approach to poetry. In the Heian period most poems were composed during official competitions or for commemorative purposes in the imperial court. In contrast, the long sequences were typically the work of people who didn’t have opportunities to partake in official poetic events, for example lower ranking bureaucrats. Furthermore, the topics were more personal. It was fairly common to complain about unrecognized skills and slow progression in the chosen path of career, for example. This was an universe many lower ranked courtiers, as well as provincial bureaucrats, were familiar with - the Heian court was dominated by the powerful Fujiwara clan, and few people who didn’t belong to it managed to advance to the most prestigious positions (and those who did, like Sugawa no Michizane, could still end up exiled or worse as potential threats to the Fujiwa hegemony). However, in contrast with ultimately fairly formulaic complaints about stalled professional careers, ms. Kamo’s collection is essentially an outlier among outliers. It has an even more distinctly personal character. Of course, part of it is that the experience of a woman was fundamentally different from that of a male courtier. Ms. Kamo had to become a unique author in part simply because she had no models to pattern her poems on. She acknowledged herself that it was viewed as preferable for a woman to remain silent and unseen.

The life ms. Kamo wanted to document was sad and lonely - as she remarked to herself, “there is no one whose circumstances are as unhappy as mine within these islands”. The catalyst for writing was the life-threatening illness she survived, but which pretty clearly took a heavy mental toll on her. In a self-depreciating passage she described herself as "inferior in all ways to others, but better than others in getting an illness". On top of that, she felt isolated and was apparently concerned that she has failed to attain proper maturity, possibly due to remaining single - she only makes vague references to a possible failed past relationship. She apparently blamed her parents, and in one of her poems compared herself to an egg that has already putrefied before even hatching.

While I don’t necessarily think it’s incorrect to speculate that she might have felt this way due to failing to enter a relationship or forming a lasting one, it does seem that she was generally concerned about her life being stagnant, and about being confined in the same place for its entire duration. In some of her poems, she is saddened by own inability to see various wondrous phenomena and partaking in assorted pastimes (she admits she’s not even sure what was in the vogue among other noblewomen). Interestingly, she recognized that her position gives her a degree of freedom she would lack if her poetry conformed to courtly standards, though.

A further peculiar aspect of ms. Kamo’s work is her focus on social inequalities. She devotes some space to explaining why she doesn’t see class as an indication of merit. As she outlines, a virtuous and talented person might nonetheless have an unremarkable career and fail to move up. Furthermore, a humble person won’t necessarily be valued as much as they should. It was apparently a major concern for her overall that success is determined by wealth and family connections more than skill and virtue. That’s tragically a pretty timeless issue.

Some degree of opposition to the prevailing model of stratification of society was not entirely unheard of in the Heian period. Miyako no Yoshika’s uncle Miyako no Haraaka (都腹赤) famously believed that what we would by modern standards define as higher education should be available to all as opposed to hereditary nobility, for example. This was doubtlessly influenced by his own experience - his family background was unremarkable, and he managed to attain a degree of renown only thanks to a then-recent system of civil service examinations. His nephew, whose life followed a similar trajectory, purportedly opposed the encroachment of the Fujiwara clan upon educational institutions because it would limit the already not particularly plentiful opportunities people from more humbled backgrounds had. Ultimately the Chinese-style bureaucratic apparatus which enabled that collapsed, though, and even before that it obviously never managed to become the great equalizer people like Haraaka seemingly wanted it to be (it didn’t even accomplish that in China in the first place, to be fair).

Yoshishige no Yasutane (wikimedia commons) Most importantly, social inequalities are addressed in depth in the Chiteiki (池亭記), the magnum of opus of ms. Kamo’s uncle Yoshishige no Yasutane (慶滋保胤). He might have been an influence on the worldview of his niece, though unlike him she didn’t see the lack of adherence to Confucian teachings as the source of all ills. As a social critic she is ultimately without an exact parallel among her contemporaries. As cliche as that might sound, it would perhaps be most apt to say she was ahead of her times. Rather unusually for her era, she even believed romantic relationships should not be determined by social class, but rather by genuine feelings. She attributed the instability of romances among courtiers to this, even. I will refrain from speculation if this might have anything to do with the references to her own possible failed relationship.

Given the avant garde character of ms. Kamo’s works, it probably comes as no surprise to you to learn that they never had a wide circulation. She did hope for an audience - in the preface she even speculates how people in the future will imagine her based on the content of her poems. However, she never really found it.

Evidently someone had to be aware of her pursuits and kept her up to date with new trends in poetry, though. A possible candidate is, once again, her uncle Yasutane. Furthermore, some of her notes indicate she seemingly was sending at least some of her poems to someone, though whoever that was, they evidently didn’t opt to recommend her as a participant in any events focused on poetry held in the imperial court (or didn’t hold a position which would let them do so). Her poetry thus failed to captivate any larger audience, and didn’t enter the literary canon.

The only pre-modern exceptions are the inclusion of a small handful of her poems in the Shūi Wakashū (拾遺和歌集, “Collection of Gleanings”; 1006; 1 poem), Shin Kokin Wakashū (新古今和歌集, “New Collection of Ancient and Modern Poems”; 1205; 1 poem), Fūga Wakashū (風雅和歌集; “Collection of Elegant Poems”; 1348; 2 poems) and Shinshokukokin Wakashū (新続古今和歌集; “New Later Collection of Ancient and Modern Poems”; 1439; 1 poem). However, in the first two of these anthologies the author is left anonymous, presumably since she was not exactly famous and lived outside the imperial court. In the other two she is identified only as Kamo no Yasunori no musume.

Something that bugs me a lot is that there are multiple weird unsourced claims on English wikipedia severely overestimating the esteem she enjoyed in the Heian period and beyond. Kamo no Yasunori’s entry calls her an “acclaimed poet” (and similarly without a source asserts she was his second daughter; in reality she is his only female relative we know about). Her own article asserts she was renowned for her talent, despite later citing a researcher who correctly points out she was largely overlooked through history.

I would argue that in addition to being incorrect, these bizarre descriptions are disrespectful, seeing as much of her work is centered on frustrations stemming from not only not being perceived as important, but lacking any venue giving the slightest glimmer of hope for attaining that. I’m not exactly sure if the intent was to be feminist, but I personally think it would in fact be a more feminist approach to stress what motivated her to write, and to honestly report the lack of pre-modern reception. These factors are what makes ms. Kamo unique as a poet.

Sadly even the modern reception of ms. Kamo’s work is limited at best, which is part of why I decided to include her in this article. There are at least two annotated editions of her works aimed at academics in Japanese and a handful of articles, including a single one in English which you can find in the bibliography, but not much beyond that. Ultimately it is probably fair to say her fictional counterparts sadly outshine her, which arguably adds an extra layer to this tragedy. Obviously, Edo period playwrights weren’t deliberately trying to do so - odds are decent they weren’t even aware she existed - but it saddens me a bit that no attempt was made to find room for her in any modern adaptations of stories involving fictionalized portrayals of her father. An argument can even be made that ms. Kamo had some familiarity with onmyōdō. While it is not a major theme in her poetry, and she never referenced yin, yang and related concepts directly, she was evidently familiar with Chinese literature and philosophy to some degree. She references the Book of Changes and the well known (at the time, at least) story of Su Wu, for instance. It might also be worth noting that she was aware it was believed certain ascetic practices can extend the lifespan - for example consuming pine needles. It’s actually fairly likely that some of her familiarity with Chinese literature came from overhearing her brothers’ lessons - we actually know this must have been the case for some women in the Heian period. For instance, Murasaki Shikibu de facto received informal education this way. There’s even a proposal in scholarship which has gained some support that part of ms. Kamo’s bitterness might have come from perceiving herself as equally capable of learning as her brothers, but never really receiving opportunities to prove it.

Beyond Kuzunoha: other figures of note in Seimei narratives

After the largely historical excursus, let’s go back to fiction. As I mentioned earlier, many once popular recurring characters from stories about Seimei - from early legends to Edo period novels - largely languish in obscurity today, even though Seimei himself arguably regained his prominence. I figured it is only fair to discuss some examples I consider particularly interesting as well.

Rika

While Abe no Seimei Monogatari is notable for being one of the earliest works which feature (a prototype of) Kuzunoha, it also provides Seimei with a further fictional female relative, a wife named Rika (梨花). And she is, quite unexpectedly, an antagonist who aids Dōman.

The historical Seimei presumably did have a family, but as far as I am aware no source mentions anything about the identity of his spouse. He definitely had children, most notably Abe no Yoshihira (安倍吉平; 954–1026), which does indicate the existence of a ms. Abe (or at least a mistress whose child was legitimized, I suppose). I won’t dwell much Yoshihira here, as he is largely irrelevant for the matters this article focuses on, though it’s worth noting that he famously managed to enact an onmyōdō takeover of hanshi (反支; from Chinese fanzhi), formerly handled by court physicians. This procedure was supposed to determine if anything inauspicious might happen during the birth of a child.

I’m only aware of a single source predating Abe no Seimei Monogatari which would mention Seimei’s wife at all, and it is similarly a literary text rather than a historical document. However, she is left nameless in it, and her characterization differs considerably. Rather unexpectedly, it’s not strictly speaking a Seimei story, but rather the fourteenth century Genpei Jōsuiki - an extended version of the Heike Monogatari. In the passage in mention Taira no Tokiko performs hashiura (橋占), an unusual form of divination. Instead of the movement of celestial bodies, it required listening to the conversations of passersby on a bridge. She chooses the Ichijō-modoribashi (一条戻橋) in Kyoto, where she encounters a group of twelve unusual children, who all repeat the same prophecy. She quickly realizes they’re actually shikigami, and not just any shikigami at that, but rather manifestations of the Twelve Heavenly Generals (十二神, jūnishin).

Why are the Twelve Heavenly Generals there, instead of performing the Medicine Buddha and engaging in other typical Heavenly General pursuits? That’s where Seimei’s wife comes in. It is revealed that Seimei sealed the Generals under the bridge because his wife was capable of seeing supernatural beings, including them, just like he was, but was afraid of them. As a result of Seimei’s ritual, hashiura performed there was guaranteed to result in receiving prophetic messages from the Twelve Heavenly Generals, even if they used passersby to convey it. The reference to supernatural powers is certainly interesting - in other literary texts a similar ability is enough for the protagonist to be granted the right to study onmyōdō (a good example is a Konjaku Monogatari story about Kamo no Yasunori’s childhood) - but the topic is not explored further.

Ichijō-modoribashi in 2005, with the shikigami statue on the left (wikimedia commons)

It’s worth noting that the story seemingly had a degree of influence on the surroundings of Ichijō-modoribashi bridge. Today there’s a statue of a shikigami next to it. However, he’s not one of the Twelve Heavenly Generals, but rather an anonymous critter who appears in medieval portraits of Seimei as his personal shikigami. Compare the two depictions below, courtesy of wikimedia commons:

As for Abe no Seimei Monogatari, as thrilling as the summary of Rika’s character sounds, she sadly receives very little spotlight. We don’t learn how she met Seimei, where she came from, or the circumstances of their marriage. No information from the Genpei Jōsuiki episode is referenced, either, and I think it’s safe to say the two takes on Seimei’s wife are independent from each other - though it’s not hard to find people treating them as the same character online. To be fair, it’s not like these sources are impossible to reconcile with each other.

Rika and Seimei are already married when she is mentioned for the first time, when Seimei leaves to China to study under Hakudō Shōnin. In his absence Dōman, who after losing a bet had to become his disciple earlier, conspires with Rika (to be fair, Seimei for whatever reason entrusted him with taking care of her in his absence). His goal is to gain insight into two books Seimei owns: the Kin’u Gyokuto Shū, written by Hakudō Shōnin, and the Hoki Naiden, brought to Japan by Kibi no Makibi. She shows him a box in which Seimei keeps them. He wastes no time and after figuring out how to open it studies both books and copies them.

When Seimei returns, Dōman offers him a wager. He claims that the books were revealed to him in a dream by the bodhisattva Monju, and suggests that he can prove it. Seimei, who does not believe in dream visions, and remains blissfully unaware of Rika’s actions in his absence, agrees, and says that Dōman can kill him if he really does have the books - that’s how implausible this scenario is to him. To his shock, his rival-turned-apprentice reveals the copies he prepared, and in accordance with their agreement kills him. Dōman then gets rid of everyone else in Seimei’s household by turning them into pieces of straw and wood - the only exception is Rika. The two become a couple; the narrator notes this is something he has desired for a long while already, though as far as I can tell the novel doesn’t mention it at any earlier point. We don’t really learn anything about Rika’s views on the matter, sadly.

Dōman’s triumph is short-lived. Through an omen, Hakudō Shōnin learns that Seimei has died and arrives in Japan to resurrect him and let him avenge his death. He visits Dōman and, in a mirror of the trick he played on Seimei earlier, gets him to agree that he should be killed if it turns out Seimei is alive. Seimei, alive and well thanks to Hakudō Shōnin’s magical abilities, promptly appears to complete this wager. Rika attempts to hide behind a curtain to avoid a similar fate, but this proves to be unsuccessful. While she doesn’t make a similar bargain with Hakudō Shōnin, the narrator states that this is ultimately a just outcome. Both conspirators are then buried near the bank of the Gojō River, and that’s basically it for their role in the story. Neither portrayal of Seimei’s wife gained much notoriety in later works. I would assume the fact that through the Edo period ultimately it was the story of his parents that captivated the audience was a factor (it would be hard to explore his own relationships if most new stories had him as a 5-year-old), but this is entirely speculative.

As for modern authors: Yumemakura Baku, whose novels about Seimei contributed towards the development of the “onmyōdō boom” in popculture, acknowledged in an interview that the historical Seimei presumably did have a wife, but said he has no plans to explore this topic.

Makuzu (bottom left) from Okano's adaptation of Yumemakura's novels (MELODY; reproduced here for educational purposes only)

This being said, the manga adaptation of his works by Okano Reiko apparently did introduce a character loosely based on her Genpei Jōsuiki portrayal named Makuzu (真葛). The reception of this addition appears to be mixed, but as I haven't read this series I won’t pass judgment. This being said, if the Makuzu subplot really does involve Seimei learning they’re the reincarnation of a pharaoh and his wife out of blue, let’s just say I think I’d rather stick to Yumemakura’s prose version.

I was also able to find a single modern work which actually features Rika: Onmyōji Abe no Seimei - Saishū Kessen (陰陽師安倍晴明ー最終決戦; “Onmyōji Abe no Seimei - Final Battle”) a very loose stage play adaptation of Abe no Seimei Monogatari by the troupe Gesshoku Kageki Dan (月蝕華撃團). A recording from 2021 can be found on their youtube channel:

Additionally there are numerous photos of the costumes on their social media (a selection of my favorites: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5). Parts of the plot seem… very avant garde compared to the original, but I do like the actress portraying Seimei, Shiranaga Ayumi (白永歩美), a lot. Note that Seimei isn’t supposed to be a woman here, though (this remains an idea largely exclusive to Fromsoft’s Kuon); this troupe’s performances pretty commonly involve actresses playing male roles, as I understand. Whether intentional or not, in this case it ends up as a neat parallel to men traditionally playing Kuzunoha in the Edo period and beyond.

Hakudō Shōnin

An illustration of Hakudō Shōnin from the Abe no Seimei Monogatari

Given that I already brought up Hakudō Shōnin (伯道上人; sometimes translated as “Saint Hakudō”) multiple times, I don’t think it’s particularly shocking that I consider him another character who warrants more spotlight. At least one Edo period source, Jinrin Kinmō Zui (人倫訓蒙図彙; “Illustrated Dictionary of Different Kinds of People”) from 1690, seems to treat him as a historical figure. The entry on diviners (占師, uranaishi) states that Kamo no Yasunori brought Chinese divination methods originally invented by Fuxi to Japan, but also that Abe no Seimei was taught them by Hakudō Shōnin. In reality, not only is Hakudō entirely fictitious, he didn’t even originate in China. In theory his name would be Bodao Shangren in Chinese - but no Chinese source actually mentions him. He is essentially a representation of the Japanese idea of what a Chinese Buddhist sage slash Daoist immortal (he is described as both simultaneously) would be like. In art he is seemingly generally portrayed in the garb of a monk. I’ve seen a single more unique depiction recently, but I was unable to verify its provenance:

It’s fair to say that in literature Hakudō Shōnin is portrayed as part ascetic, part onmyōji. This might seem unusual - after all, the historical Heian period onmyōji were essentially government officials not too different from other mid-level courtiers. However, Hakudō’s portrayal is not particularly outlandish - it reflects ideas about is onmyōji widespread in medieval sources. The fact that divinatory techniques associated with onmyōdō were often transmitted by shugenja - mountain ascetics - in this period is doubtlessly related, but I won’t pursue this point further here.

As far as literature goes, the merging of onmyōdō and asceticism is evident in legends about the legendary sage Hōdō Shōnin (法道上人, Sanskrit Dharmamārga) or the historical Tendai monk Jōzō (浄蔵). In the Kojidan (古事談), compiled by Minamoto no Akikane (源顕兼) around 1212-1215, even Seimei himself is described as a hermit who gained mastery of onmyōdō by leading an ascetic life in in Kumano (a particularly favored location for such activities) for a thousand days.

Given that this image of Seimei doesn’t really reemerge in later sources, I’m admittedly curious if perhaps Hakudō wasn’t created to offer an indirect way to incorporate it into broader informal “Seimei canon” - so that instead of Seimei gaining knowledge through asceticism, he instead acquired it from an ascetic? This is entirely speculative on my part, though. Note that there might very well be older sources mentioning Hakudō than those I am aware of, which depending on date could instantly sink this proposal.

Stories involving Hakudō were already in circulation in the fourteenth century. An early example appears in the preface to Hoki Naiden. It describes him as a disciple of the bodhisattva Monju who after attaining enlightenment received the scroll Monju Sesshū Butsurekikyō (“Sutra of Buddha Calendar Assembled by Monju”) from him. He then brought it with him to China, where he came up with a new title for it, Hoki Naiden Kin’u Gyokuto Shū . Many years later Seimei learned about it from him, and made it the to-go point of reference for fellow onmyōji in Japan under its full title. It should be noted here that another tradition had Seimei himself as the author, though. In reality it was most likely only composed in the fourteenth century by a hitherto unidentified descendant of the historical Seimei (or at least someone who saw association with him as a source of own credibility), though.

The Hoki Naiden preface also states that Hakudō arrived in Japan after Seimei’s death to resurrect him. To that end he collected all his bones - “12 big bones and 360 small bones altogether” - and performed a special ritual. Noriko T. Reider notes that this passage resembles a number of legends involving a historical figure either trying to create a new living being out of bones or other body parts (Minamoto no Morofusa and Saigyō in two separate tales from the Senjūshō), or encountering a person created this way (Ki no Haseo in Haseo Zōshi). The difference is obviously that Hakudō brings a specific dead person to life instead of creating a new living being, and that the deed is portrayed firmly positively. Still, given that all of these stories have been composed roughly in the same time period, it does seem fair to say we’re dealing with different takes on the same motif.

It’s worth noting that while Hakudō Shōnin is essentially absent from modern Seimei media - presumably since Seimei is, true to historical sources, usually portrayed as a disciple of Kamo no Yasunori (or, alternatively, his father Kamo no Tadayuki) - in the middle ages he was famous enough to even be referenced in at least one variant of one the most famous medieval Japanese works possible, namely in the Ōeyama Ekotoba (大江山絵詞), a Muromachi period illustrated version of the Shuten Dōji legend. It puts a peculiar twist on the connection between him and Seimei, though. It is revealed that instead of being a disciple and a master, respectively, they are two incarnations of Ryūju Bosatsu (龍樹菩薩) - the bodhisattva form of the early Buddhist philosopher Nāgārjuna, venerated in Japan by the Shingon school.

Hakudō encountering the bodhisattva Monju Both of the Hoki Naiden legends mentioned above were incorporated into Abe no Seimei Monogatari. An entire section of this novel is additionally dedicated to Hakudō’s early career and the origin of the Hoki Naiden. It states he was born during the reign of the Zhou dynasty (so he’s over a thousand years old - possibly nearly two thousand years old - by the time he meets Seimei), and that he initially lived in Jingshan. He tried to master yin, yang, earth and haven, but failed to do so. This prompted him to go on a journey, during which he encountered a supernatural youth - an incarnation of the bodhisattva Monju - who informed him that his approach was wrong. He let Hakudō become his disciple on Mt. Wutai (however, in the Hoki-shō his studies take place in India instead).

Under Monju’s guidance Hakudō managed to learn all of the mysteries he wanted to know, becoming a master of divination in the process. He also attained the rank of an arhat. He later returned to Jingshan, where he compiled the teachings of the bodhisattva revealed to him in 160 volumes.

Donfang Shuo (wikimedia commons)

Through the following centuries, Hakudō secretly revealed small snippets to various rulers and sages, including Jiang Ziya, Fan Li, Zhang Liang, Kong Anguo and Heshang Gong. The scrolls were eventually gifted to emperor Wu of Han, whose courtier Donfang Shuo (a veritable Han dynasty reneissance man) managed to become a great sage just by studying them (remember this detail, it will be relevant later).

As you can probably tell, the passage dealing with Seimei’s resurrection inspired the section of the story involving Rika, which I already summarized above.

Hōdō Shōnin in Abe no Seimei Monogatari As a side note, it’s worth pointing out that Abe no Seimei Monogatari also features Hōdō Shōnin in a small capacity. Somewhat confusingly, he is described both as a Daoist immortal and as a monk from India. Dōman claims to be his disciple to make himself appear greater than in reality, but in reality he merely inherited a book written by ancestor Ashiya no Suguri Kiyofuto (藍屋村主清太; as far as I know, a character invented for this novel), who encountered Hōdō Shōnin around 300 years prior to the events of the story. While this sounds like setting up further intentional parallels between him and Seimei, as far as I can tell it’s not implied that Hōdō and Hakudō were rivals, and the former otherwise appears chiefly in legends unrelated to Seimei - most commonly ones dealing with the foundation of Buddhist temples. It also needs to be noted that since this is a work following the traditional negative portrayal of Dōman, the narrator makes it clear that despite claiming to be Hōdō’s disciple and even dressing up like a monk (a possible allusion to the term for unofficial onmyōji I’ve already discussed, I assume?) he was impious and even committed unspecified crimes. Hakudō Shōnin also makes an appearance in Shinodazuma Tsurigitsune Tsuketari Abe no Seimei Shusshō. In this play Seimei meets him when he is ten years old. Hakudō gives him the Kin’u Gyokuto Shū. It is also revealed that in the past he met Seimei’s ancestor Abe no Nakamaro when the latter acted as an envoy in China. His resurrection ritual is also referenced: when in the final act of the play Dōman’s subordinates kill Seimei’s father Yasuna, he has to be resurrected using Hakudō Shōnin’s bone-gathering method. While as I already summarized earlier Yasuna’s final fate is quite similar in Ashiya Dōman Ōuchi Kagami, no reference is made to any Chinese sages - it’s just one of the many abilities young Seimei has already mastered.

Kibi no Makibi (and Abe no Nakamaro)

An Edo period portrait of Kibi no Makibi (wikimedia commons)

Unlike Rika, who you can at best call semi-historical (in that the real Seimei probably did have a wife) and Hakudō Shōnin, who is entirely fictitious, the final figure I’d like to introduce you to in this article, Kibi no Makibi (吉備真備; 695-775), was a real person. His accomplishments and postmortem career as a literary character would honestly be enough for a separate article - here I will only limit myself to a small handful of sources due to space constraints. Makibi famously traveled to China twice, first as a student and then as an ambassador, and between these two journeys spent around 20 years (around one fourth of his life!) on the mainland. He was considered unusually erudite, and was one of the foremost Japanese scholars of his era. Due to his renown he also held a number of prominent positions in the court, including the incredibly prestigious role of minister of the right (右大臣, udaijin); the only other scholar to ever attain this rank was Sugawara no Michizane.

Next to Seimei and Kamo no Yasunori, Makibi is also probably one of the most famous onmyōji in history - which is quite a feat given that he actually had next to nothing to do with onmyōdō in life. Early sources, such as Shoku Nihongi (797) and Miyoshi no Kiyoyuki’s (三善清行; 847-919) Iken Fūji Jūni Kajō (意見封事十二箇条, “Statement of Opinion on Twelve Matters”) agree that he was unusually skilled, and that in China he mastered many arts, including but not limited to Confucian classics, history, arithmetic, music, poetry, and calligraphy, but they don’t link him with onmyōdō at all.

It’s hard to tell when and why the shift in the perception of Makibi’s knowledge occurred, but he is already described as not just an onmyōji, but the founder of onmyōdō in Fujiwara no Akihira’s (藤原明衡; 989-1066) Shin Sarugōki (新猿楽記, “Account of the New Monkey Music”). Another example can be found in the Konjaku Monogatari, where Makibi is portrayed using his onmyōdō skills to pacify the vengeful spirit of Fujiwara no Hirotsugu. By the twelfth century, regarding Makibi as an onmyōji was common. This is evident in the works most relevant to this article, namely fictionalized accounts of his journey to China. The oldest of them, Kibi Nittō no Kan no Koto (吉備入唐の間の事, “Kibi’s Adventures in China”), is preserved in Ōe no Masafusa’s Gōdanshō (江談抄). A more vague account can be found in the Fusō Ryakki (扶桑略記, "Brief History of Fusang"), though it is likely a derivative of the Gōdanshō one.

Makibi (in black robes) and Chinese officials (all images from this scroll have been taken from the website of the Museum of Fine Arts Boston; reproduced here for educational purposes only)

Masafusa’s account of the journey also inspired the illustrated scroll Kibi Daijin Nittō Emaki (吉備大臣入唐絵巻, “Illustrated Adventures of Minister Kibi in China“), which was most likely commissioned by emperor Go-Shirakawa between the late 1170 and early 1180s. Like other similar contemporary works, Kibi Daijin Nittō Emaki has very little to do with historical reality. It relays that after arriving in China, Makibi was imprisoned by local officials, who feared that due to being exceptionally skilled he would make them look inept in comparison. To regain his freedom he had to overcome a series of trials.

Distinctly oni-like vengeful Nakamaro

Makibi's only ally is the vengeful spirit of Abe no Nakamaro (阿倍仲麻呂; 698-770). He is described as the previous ambassador. After a similar ordeal he died in captivity.

In reality, Nakamaro traveled to China alongside Makibi in 716. However, he was not an envoy, but merely a student who was allowed to join an official delegation. What is true is that he never returned to Japan. This was not the result of any nefarious plot, let alone premature death, though. He successfully completed the Chinese civil service exam and became an official. He did try to return to Japan in 735, but a storm left him shipwrecked at the coast of Annam (a part of modern Vietnam which at the time was a Chinese protectorate), and he opted to return to his career. He also attained some renown as a poet, and was on friendly terms with the poetic superstars of his times, Li Bai and Wang Wei. All around his real life was most likely happier than the story would indicate - though based on his surviving poetry it is safe to assume he did feel homesick in some capacity.

Nakamaro longing for home in Abe no Seimei Monogatari

Obviously, Kibi Daijin Nittō Emaki is a particularly extreme example of reinterpretation of Nakamaro’s life in literature postdating him. However, portrayals focused on his longing for a return home are quite common, and appear as early as in the Tosa Nikki (土佐日記, “Tosa Diary”) by Ki no Tsurayuki, completed around 935. It should be noted that by the tenth century or so, even venturing beyond the capital was commonly described as a daunting task, and dying in exile was one of the greatest fears for courtiers. Based on these developments, it can also be argued that the fictionalized portrayal of Nakamaro is an example of a phenomenon derived from these fears - the belief that people who died far away from home would return as vengeful ghosts. He could thus be considered a peer of the likes of Sugawara no Michizane or prince Sawara. The possibility that someone would move to a far off land voluntarily, and die there peacefully of natural causes, would probably be hard to grasp for late Heian audiences.

Pacified Nakamaro (right) talking to Makibi (left)

Anyway, back to the story. Makibi’s captors are actually convinced that Nakamaro, who became a vengeful spirit and haunts the tower where the new envoy ends up imprisoned, will kill him. However, even though Nakamaro appears to Makibi in a fierce oni-like form, he ends up pacified through what might be an unusual ritual. Makibi informs him that he is in the presence of an official envoy, and as such needs to take a suitable form. This evidently works - through the rest of the scroll Nakamaro, now a staunch ally of Makibi, is depicted in the attire of a Japanese official, just with an unconventional distinctly orange skin tone. Makibi also learns that Nakamaro is concerned about his relatives, and reassures him that his entire clan is doing well.

Makibi and Nakamaro flying After surviving the encounter with Nakamaro, Makibi is informed that his trials are set to begin. The first of them involves learning the Wen Xuan (文選, “Selections of Refined Literature”). He is not familiar with this anthology, but using a secret art enabling him to fly he manages to secretly reach the imperial palace to listen to scholars reading it. In the illustrated version he masters flight himself, which is presumably meant to show he is in full control of the situation, and there is no genuine threat in his temporary captivity. However, in Masafusa’s forerunner it is Nakamaro who can fly, and Makibi relies on his help. Either way, the aerial journey is successful, and when a Chinese official appears to question Makibi, he reveals a copy of Wen Xuan he prepared in secret based on what he heard, thus completing the first challenge.

Makibi playing go The next day, Makibi is set to face a master of go. This might seem random, but playing it was a fairly standard part of diplomatic visits, and in fact in at least some cases envoys were selected based on their go skills. Makibi is unfamiliar with it, though, and has to learn the rules from Nakamaro. He quickly comes up with an ingenious, if unconventional, strategy. Initially neither side gains an advantage, but eventually Makibi notices an opportunity to use his secret gambit arises He swallows one of his opponent’s pieces, which lets him attain victory. A diviner informs the Chinese officials about this, and they tell Makibi to take a purgative to prove he was cheating, but he manages to counter its effects with his esoteric knowledge.

Makibi’s success infuriates the officials, and they decide that to hinder him they’ll try to starve him. He manages to overcome this hardship with the help of Nakamaro, who secretly brings him food every night. This continues for months, but eventually the time of another challenge comes.

A statue from Saiō-ji depicting Baozhi revealing his nature as an incarnation of the bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara (Kyoto National Museum; reproduced here for educational purposes only)

As it turns out, the officials decided to seek the help of a virtuous Buddhist monk, the Chan master Baozhi (宝志禅师; he actually lived during the reign of Wu of Liang, some 250 years before Makibi’s journey), who prepared a barrier meant to prevent supernatural beings from entering the palace where Makibi will be tested. This means that for the first time he will have to manage without any help from Nakamaro. His new task to interpret a complex poem, Yabatai (邪馬台). Its contents aren’t discussed in the story; it was a purported prophecy according to which Japan will undergo division and ultimately perish after the reign of the hundredth emperor. Needless to say, following the traditional order which includes mythical and legendary emperors, the prophecy evidently didn’t come to pass - Go-Komatsu was #100, Naruhito is #126. Makibi initially cannot even decipher a single sign. In despair, he prays to Sumiyoshi and Kannon of Hasedera. A spider miraculously appears, and moves across the text to help him read it properly. The gathered officials, as well as the Chinese emperor, are in awe. However, they don’t let Makibi return home, and once again lock him in the tower.

Shortly afterwards, Makibi is reunited with his ally Nakamaro, and enlists his help once more. He asks him to find a century old set of sugoroku paraphernalia. With the help of these tools, he causes an eclipse. The emperor learns about its cause from his diviners, and has his officials question Kibi. He claims that the only way to end the eclipse is to let him return to Japan. This time, they oblige, and the story ends. The forerunner preserved by Masafusa indicates that Makibi was also credited with bringing the Wen Xuan, the Yabatai and the game of go to Japan. In reality, go and Wen Xuan were already known in Japan before his journey. Meanwhile, according to the Edo period philosopher Hayashi Gahō Yabatai was most likely a hoax composed in Japan in the Heian period, even though it was held to be the work of Baozhi.

It is commonly assumed in scholarship that the story was meant to reflect somewhat xenophobic attitudes towards China or more broadly towards foreign lands prevalent at the time of its composition. While in Makibi’s and Nakamaro’s times sending envoys to China was relatively common, and Japanese emperors actively sought contact with their Chinese counterparts (though occasionally diplomatic correspondence could end up awkward as both sides aimed to present themselves as superior), with time similar journeys became less frequent, and started to be perceived as increasingly dangerous (to be fair - the risk of getting shipwrecked was genuinely fairly high). It might be significant that formal diplomacy resumed during the reign of Go-Shirakawa, though. It is distinctly possible that he saw this success as a parallel to Makibi’s legendary deeds, and commissioned an illustrated edition to basically congratulate himself.

An alternate proposal is that Kibi Daijin Nittō Emaki arose as a part of an onmyōdō feud between the Kamo and Abe clans. For what it’s worth, it does seem that despite earlier successful arrangements meant to guarantee a division of positions in the court both the Abe and the Kamo would be satisfied with, tensions arose between them during reigns of emperors Toba and Go-Shirakawa, so roughly at the time of its composition. However, the interpretation of the story as a product of this conflict rests on the argument that Makibi is portrayed as more clever and skilled than Nakamaro. This sort of power level discussion is not entirely rooted in the primary sources, where the two clearly work as a team. There are further problems with this interpretation, too.

An obvious issue is that while the link between Abe no Nakamaro and the Abe clan is self-explanatory, it is not exactly evident in which way Makibi would be a representation of the Kamo. It is sometimes claimed in scholarship that the Kamo clan claimed descent from him, but this appears to be an Edo period misconception. It’s most likely a result of confusion between Kamo no Kibimaro (鴨吉備麻呂), a member of the Kamo clan who also traveled to China (his journey occurred earlier, during the final years of the reign of Wu Zetian), and Makibi. No reference to a relation between Makibi and the Kamo can be found in the fourteenth century genealogical treatise Sonpi Bunmyaku (尊卑分脈; “Genealogical Branches of the High and the Low”), though. Kamo no Yasunori is essentially treated as the founder of this lineage. A further problem is that there’s no good reason to doubt that the scroll was prepared for emperor Go-Shirakawa - who himself favored the Abe clan, as evidenced by the esteem Abe no Yasuchika (安倍泰親) enjoyed in his court.

Kibi Daijin Nittō Emaki wasn’t commonly copied in the Kamakura and Muromachi periods, but portraying Makibi as an onmyōji only became more entrenched in literature over the middle ages. He was supposedly responsible for transmitting rituals focused on Tenkeisei (天刑星, “Star of Heavenly Punishment“; this deity was held to be a master of all shikigami, for more info see my previous article) alongside Kamo no Yasunori. In a local tradition from Mount Hiromine, he was credited with enabling the enshrinement of Gozu Tennō by making a pact with him during his journeys to China.

While the examples cited above were essentially new, the specific story illustrated in Kibi Daijin Nittō Emaki evidently wasn’t forgotten either. It regained popularity in the Edo period, as evidenced by its various new adaptations. These include works from various genres, such as Koikawa Harumachi’s novel Kibi no Nihon Jie (吉備能日本知恵, “Japanese Kibi’s Ingenuity”) or the kabuki play Kibi Daijin Shina Tan (吉備大臣支那譚, “Story of Minister Kibi in China”). However, from the perspective of this article what matters the most is that it was incorporated into Abe no Seimei Monogatari, thus firmly becoming a part of Seimei’s origin story.

A personification of Mars, as depicted in Sōkan’s Iconographic Drawings of the Secrets of the Nine Luminaries (public domain; via Metropolitan Museum of Art)

The novel introduces Abe no Nakamaro first, and reveals that he was the reincarnation of Dongfang Shuo (remember him?) and by extension of the planet Mars (sic). Since Dongfang Shuo was incredibly loyal to his country, it was only natural the same was true for his reincarnation. However, as Nakamaro was born in Japan, and not China, this was less than optimal in the specific situation he found himself in. After arriving in China as an envoy, he was imprisoned - as described in earlier works - because his actions were perceived as disrespectful. He dies in prison shortly after.

A year after Nakamaro’s ill fated journey, Kibi no Makibi arrives in China as the next envoy. The Chinese emperor, Xuanzong, is infuriated that the tribute he presented was inadequate, and considers executing him, but decides to give him a way out. If he can complete a series of trials, he will be allowed to return to Japan instead (inadequate tribute be damned). These overlap with the earlier versions, though the order is changed.

Makibi playing go in Abe no Seimei Monogatari

The first of the trials involves go. Makibi is set to face a master of this game, a certain Xiandang (玄東; Gentō in Japanese) in it. His opponent actually doesn’t have a name in any of the early accounts of his adventures in China; it seems this was an innovation of an abbreviated version from the Hoki-shō.

The fateful go match, as imagined by Kunisuda Utagawa; note the inclusion of Xiandang's wife (Egenolf Gallery; reproduced here for educational purposes only) The name evidently caught on, though, since in addition to Abe no Seimei Monogatari it also pops up in other Edo period works, such as the 1852 kabuki play Kin’u Gyokuto Wakoku no Irifune (金烏玉兎倭国入船, “The Golden Crow, the Jade Rabbit, and the Ship that Arrived from Japan”). The resolution also differs somewhat: Makibi learns go by secretly observing Xiandang, who plays it regularly with his wife at home. He wins two matches against him fair and square, without the need to eat any of the pieces.

A spider helps Makibi

The Wenxuan trial is next; it essentially goes the same as in Kibi Daijin Nittō Emaki. The Yabatai trial is altered slightly, though. For starters, Bao Zhi is not physically present - he is only referenced as the poem’s supposed author. The emperor selects it specifically because it’s uniquely difficult, and he can’t read it himself. Nakamaro learns about this, and tells Makibi the best solution might be to pray, which he promptly does. No reference is made to Sumiyoshi, but Kannon of Hasadera gets a more prominent role. Makibi’s devotion to this figure is stressed over and over again. The spider whose help lets him read Yabatai is explicitly identified as a manifestation of this bodhisattva, as well. Reading Yabatai is presented as a grand feat. The entire court cheers (a far cry from the excessively villainous portrayal of courtly officials in Kibi Daijin Niitō Emaki). Even the emperor is deeply moved by Makibi’s skill, and instead of simply letting him go back home as he initially intended he tells him that he can stay as long as he wants in China in order to study. This seems like an attempt at reconciling fictional portrayals of Makibi’s journey with historical reality - I must say I think it works pretty well.

In any case, Makibi accepts the offer, and spends a long time studying various arts in China, much like he did in real life. When he finally decides to return to Japan, Xuanzong bestows various gifts on him, including a variety of literary texts, musical instruments, relics of the Buddha, a robe made from the hide of a “fire-rat” (火鼠, huoshu in Chinese, kaso in Japanese; Makibi could thus complete at least one of the trials of princess Kaguya if he only met her) and, most importantly, the Hoki Naiden (presumably passed down from emperor to emperor, though the story doesn’t state it explicitly). He also ordered a thousand monks to pray to guarantee his voyage back home would be safe.

The Abe no Seimei Monogatari account of Makibi deeds doesn’t end here, in contrast with Kibi Daijin Nittō Emaki. He safely returns to Japan, and the emperor bestows prestigious positions upon him as a reward for his accomplishments in China. Many years later, as an elderly man, he starts feeling like he essentially ended up with a life that should’ve been Nakamaro’s, though (somewhat confusingly, Nakamaro makes no physical appearance after the trials), and decides to find his family. He is unsuccessful, and ultimately writes in his will that he wants his own descendants to seek Nakamaro’s to give them the Hoki Naiden. As it later turns out, they have fallen into poverty, and have no real use for this tome. It ends up hidden until the birth of Abe no Seimei many years later.

The same events are described differently in the Hoki-shō. Makibi acquires the Hoki Naiden basically through the same means as in Abe no Seimei Monogatari, but after returning from China he gives it to young Seimei, who is introduced as a descendant of Nakamaro. In reality, despite sharing the same family name Nakamaro and Seimei were not directly related, though (Abe no Seimei Monogatari approaches this issue slightly differently, by having Seimei be a reincarnation of Nakamaro,as revealed by Hakudō). Furthermore, comparing the dates of Makibi’s journey and Seimei’s birth makes any encounter between them chronologically awkward.

It seems in at least some other works Makibi had one more role to play in setting up Seimei’s career: supposedly Kuzunoha (or, at the very least, Shinoda Myōjin) could be portrayed as his reincarnation. The problem is, while I have no reason to doubt the authenticity of this tradition, I can’t pinpoint its original source for now - this is in part why this article took so long to release.

More than once I’ve seen an assertion that it comes from a sekkyobushi, but as I outlined earlier, it seems no actual evidence for the existence of such an adaptation is available. Furthermore, the most prominent online source of this claim is seemingly a blog on which I also found posts uncritically discussing Hotsuma Tsutae and JJCAT - which doesn’t exactly fill me with optimism. In the article Kitsunenyōbō Ni Miru Ikai ― Futari no Kuzunoha Ga Deau Koto ― Atsuko Katō states that the notion of Shinoda Myōjin being a reincarnation of Kibi no Makibi comes from Abe no Seimei Monogatari, but either this is a mistake, or for some strange reason a scene was omitted in Nana Miyata’s recent German translation (Die Erzählungen vom Leben und Wirken des Divinationsmeisters Abe no Seimei); unless the reference is actually to be found in the supplement to Abe no Seimei Monogatari which had the form of a divination manual, which is left out of the translation. Finally, the Kuzunoha article from Japanese Wikipedia gives the source as Shinodazuma Tsurigitsune Tsuketari Abe no Seimei Shusshō, relying on an anthology of Edo period puppet plays from 1965, edited by Shigeru Yokoyama. Sadly, I can’t consult the full text of this work to verify. I’ll update this article if I ever manage to solve this conundrum. Until then, though, it must end on a slightly unsatisfying note. Bibliography Tumblr for some unfathomable reason didn't let me include a bibliography here, so sadly you have to visit a google doc to access it. I'm sorry.

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