Fuzzy Winter Folklore

The familiar scenes we have grown used to always seeing.
Yet there are times when these everyday places become doorways to other, extraordinary worlds.
#66, Otherworlds Hiding in the Everyday.

Without further ado, we settle into our three-part winter tail of

The Sickle Weasel
鎌鼬
kamaitachi

The Sickle Weasel: A Question of Existence (1)

The seasons have changed to that of the cold northern winds.
And with this changing of seasons comes a phantasm particular to the winter - the Sickle Weasel.
Without knowing it, without any pain or bleeding, you develop open slashes on your feet and hands and other places on your body. This phenomena has come to be known as the work of a youkai known as the Sickle Weasel. Like the weasel, the Sickle Weasel moves swiftly, and becoming a small whirlwind, slashes at humans. It is indeed the “the wind that cuts to the bone”. It is also said that they operate in groups of three.
However for many of us living in these modern times, we likely don't consider this phenomena to be the work of a youkai. Surely somewhere you have heard this”scientific explanation” : “The Sickle Weasel Phenomena is a natural phenomena wherein a vacuum formed in the atmosphere by occurrences like whirlwinds causes human skin to be slashed open.”

Here, I would like to call into question this “scientific” explanation.

The Sickle Weasel: A Question of Existence (2)

Before the “scientific” explanation came out, the Sickle Weasel was considered to be a punishment meeted out by the mountain gods or Tengu (another type of youkai) upon humans for breaking some taboo. It is said that the origin of the Sickle Weasel's name (Kama Itachi) comes from the sword used by the Tengu – the Kamae Tachi.

The theory of the vacuum being the real identity of the Sickle Weasel came out at the beginning of the Shouwa Era with its publication in a scholarly journal of meteorology. From there it spread into the general populace. However, doubts soon arose. In an essay entitled “The Evolution of Monsters”, the literary scholar Terada Torihiko offered this argument: “In the natural world, it is not likely for a vacuum to so easily and suddenly appear. And even if one were to form, it is difficult to think that human skin could so easily rupture like a balloon or something.” Indeed, when you stop to think calmly about it, there is a rationale to Terada's argument.

The vacuum theory that was considered so “scientific” fell immediately under suspicion.
Now then, what could be the real identity of the Sickle Weasel?

The Sickle Weasel: A Question of Existence (3)

What is the real identity of the Sickle Weasel? The answer was put forward from an unexpected direction. In a scholarly magazine in 1970, meteorologist Takahashi Yoshihiko made the announcement, “Wipe the Sickle Weasel from the Meteorology Books”, offering the conclusion that the Sickle Weasel was a physiological phenomena.

According to said article, the Sickle Weasel was a phenomena wherein dry, tight skin split open upon receiving a sudden impact. Since it was just the skin splitting open, there was slight pain and very little bleeding. That being said, most cases of encountering the Sickle Weasel have been at such times like “when I fell” or “when I ran into someone”.

Currently, however, the idea of a vacuum cutting open a human body has been taken up in novels and comics, becoming part of the common “scientific knowledge”. Perhaps it is the massive, unabashed circulation of the unscientific as the scientific that instead can be called a otherworldly phenomenon.

#84-86, The Sickle Weasel: A Question of Existence


*"youkai" are traditional beings of supernatural mysterious power. They are not all good nor all bad. Some are human shaped, many are not. There is no good English language equivalent. As such, the word is often left as it is without translation.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Thanks for visiting!
Stay tuned and happy listening. (^_-)-☆

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

All translations copyrighted and owned by myself. All copyrights of their respective owners. No part of this web site may be produced, reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the written permission of the copyright owner.

(BL)CD:TWO "Hearts"

2010 ushers in a no subtle-implications or hidden innuendos outright BL Drama based off of Natsume Souseki's famous literary work, KOKORO.

If the Japanese weren't cremated, he'd probably be rolling in his grave.

Or maybe not??

New Version: KOKORO

[ Summary ]
On the shores of a beach I met the "teacher", a man with a far-off look in his eyes.
I felt pierced by the depth in those eyes and gradually became drawn to the "teacher".
Yet, he saw behind me, his old friend, "K".
What was in the past between "K" and the "teacher".
What will become of the love between me and the "teacher"?

What direction will the two forbidden relationships take?

[ Cast ]
森川智之　～　Morikata Toshiyuki
平川大輔　～　Hirakawa Daisuke
小田井涼平　～　Odai Ryouhei

[ Pairing ]
平川大輔×森川智之

[ Author ・ Scenario Writer ]
Original Novel： 夏目漱石　～　Natsume Souseki
Scenario：　新條まゆ　～　Shinjou Mayu

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

For comparison, the previously released Drama directly based off of the original Natsume Souseki story..

KOKORO

[ Summary ]
In response to the fervent requests of BL fans, the long anticipated drama CD version of Natsume Souseki's greatest literary masterpiece, KOKORO, has been released starring popular voice actors.

The end of the Meiji Era.
Unable to have faith in humans, and while having abundant knowledge, remaining unemployed, the "teacher" lives in reclusion with his beautiful wife. He carries a dark, unspeakable past.
The account of myself - one who is strongly drawn to the unusual "teacher" - and "K" - the best friend who left a deep wound in the "teacher's" heart.
What is the secret hidden in the teacher's past?

[ Cast ]
宮野真守　～　Miyano Mamoru
速水 奨　～　Hayami Shou
石田 彰　～　Ishida Akira
桑島法子　～　Kuwashima Houko

[ Author ・ Scenario Writer ]
夏目漱石　～　Natsume Souseki


Thanks for visiting!
Stay tuned and happy listening. (^_-)-☆

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

All translations copyrighted and owned by myself. All copyrights of their respective owners. No part of this web site may be produced, reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the written permission of the copyright owner.

Sounds of Rain - 現代怪談

I actually finished this piece on the American Day of Turkeys which turned out to be very appropriate as that day heralded in another 24 hours of dark grey sky and rain.

Yet no matter how softly it falls, rain is never silent.

Master Series : Sounds of Rain
A Modern Japanese Kaidan^*

original story copyrighted by author @ syarecowa.moo.jp
translation copyrighted by M. L. Mills, 2010

＊＊＊

It was the end of Fall in my second year at university.
Since morning the rain had continued to fall. The asphalt surface of the road was blurred with a light mist. This was the kind of day that made one depressed. Emotions ran stagnant. Thoughts turned deeply inward.

On my right was a river. The area past the white guardrail was also faintly misted over. Only the clock-like ticking sound of the car hazard lights echoed with terrible loudness.
That sound alone became the rhythm of the world.
Everything was built upon that rhythm.
I looked to the river once more.





The rain fell down on this side of the guard rail. The same rain washed down on the other side.
Raindrops falling on the road.
Raindrops falling on the river.
Looking up - even from a height of several hundred meters - the rain fell gently from a dark, low sky.
Yet once they reached the ground, their destiny was divided by a difference of only a few mere centimeters.

I found this imagery oddly humorous and mentioned it to the driver who was sitting next to me with his chin propped upon his hand. His responded reluctantly.
“A metaphor for This world and the Other? For certain there is only that much difference between them – this and that. Yet whether the rain seeps into the ground or flows down the river, in either case it finds its way to the sea.”

The sea.

The sea as described by my 'master' (the one who taught me about all things occult) was mostly likely identical to the idea of nothingness. He did not accept the existence of a world after death. By 'a world after death' here I mean places outside this earthly world like Hell or Heaven. I never understood why he didn't accept them. But it is without a doubt that he unwaveringly did not believe in them.

It was still a little early for dusk.
I and the 'master' sat in the car on the shoulder of the road waiting for eternity. Apparently, he had seen something interesting here the last time it had rained.

“There's a good rain coming down.”
With those words he called me out and so now here I sit.
Waiting, as if we were on a police stakeout.
Thinking of that, I bit off a piece of azuki snack cake and downed a pack of milk. On the right-hand side was a vacant lot where someone's discarded unicycle laid in the grass beaten on by the rain. No one passed by us.
From out of nowhere, the 'master' offered a creepy supposition.
“Just suppose for a moment, there is a child who from birth grew up in a basement. Would that child not know of the 'rain' until they had been outside of the basement and experienced it for themselves? The history of rain is older than that of fire. From the time humans were apes... No, even before then... Do not all the beings living on this earth carry with them the memory of rain? Is what I think. Somewhere deep down in their DNA.”

Having said that he fished around in the convenience store plastic bag. Even though there was nothing left but the azuki snack cakes he wouldn't give up and kept rummaging around. And he's the one who had bought only azuki snack cakes.

The memory of rain?

Once again, my thoughts turned deeply inward
Animals innately have the ability to distinguish what is dangerous to themselves. Also, the ability to know what they should hunt. When they run into those things, the reaction recorded in their DNA occurs. For the more primaeval lifeforms that would be reactions to light and water.
In the same way, can we say that sleeping deep within our bodies is a reaction to the rain that we are born with?
A memory unbroken, inherited from the dizzying ages past.

I tried to recall the first time I had experienced the rain. Naturally, I don't remember such a thing.
I wanted to call out and ask, “How was your first rain?”
But certainly no one can answer. Yet it is something everyone has experienced.
For some reason, I found that amusing.
I tried to search through my memory once more.
The scent of rain is always nostalgic. I wonder where that sense of nostalgia comes from.
Thinking on these idle thoughts, I was suddenly returned to reality with the master's yawning.

“They're here.”

At the far end of the road blurred by streaks of rain, a shadowy figure appeared.
The master wiped off the cloudy front windshield with his sleeve. I strained my eyes and stared hard into the space before us.
A red umbrella came into view.
Following that, the figure of a woman holding the umbrella handle appeared. I couldn't see as far as her expression. She was probably in her thirties. At least she seemed to be from her clothing style. And there was something unpleasant about her. Immediately, I came upon the reason for my dislike.
Right behind the woman walking with the umbrella followed a girl of five or six.
Light pink shoes. A yellow cap.
If it wasn't for the rain, they would have been the image of a typical mother and child.
But this scene was not... typical.
A woman with an umbrella.
Walking about one meter behind her head hung down, a child with no umbrella.
There would be nothing unusual if they were huddled close together under the umbrella.
A mere one meter's separation and it was as if they stood in This world and That.

“Must be the rain. I can't pick up anything.”, said the master as peered intently at the two.

Finally, they passed by the side of the car and once again disappeared like a mist dissolving into the rain.

“You think they were living?”, he asked me.
I didn't know.
He didn't seem to know either.

We couldn't see their shapes anymore.
I put back my seat and reached out my hand to wipe off the fogged rear-view window, but my hand stopped mid-air.

“The mother is flesh. The daughter is flesh.
The mother is flesh. The daughter is spirit.
The mother is spirit. The daughter is flesh.
The mothers is spirit. The daughter is spirit.”

He whispered to himself without much feeling mixed in.
In all cases, I found it sad.
For some reason, terribly sad.

I felt stifled for air and rolled down the passenger side window a little.
The fine, textured sound of the rain came into the car.
The clock-like measured ticking of the car hazard lights grew dimmer.

The Sound. The Scene. The Soul.
Every and all things were penetrated by the rain.
As if the world had become rain.

I wonder if at that time you knew that the first rain you will ever experience will one day end.
Suddenly I wanted to ask them all.

＊＊＊

* Kaidan – a traditional Japanese “ghost” story usually involving the unexplainable, a flexible concepts of time and space, strange meetings, love gone wrong, the supernatural… Curious and sometimes terrifying stories, but never centered on nor featuring either gore or sex.


Original text story: http://syarecowa.moo.jp/177/14.html
(Japanese only.)
Audio recording: http://www.nicovideo.jp/watch/sm11325356
(Account with nicovideo required. Japanese only.)



Thanks for visiting!
Stay tuned and happy listening. (^_-)-☆

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

All translations copyrighted and owned by myself. All copyrights of their respective owners. No part of this web site may be produced, reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the written permission of the copyright owner.