A man from Nigata, named Kiroku
makes his living by running a turtle restaurant.
He catches and butchers hundreds of turtles each day.
This he would soon come to regret.
After a long day's work, Kiroku enters his room to rest.
His body feels heavy.
Everything around him turns dark
and cold.
It becomes harder to see, to hear, to move.
It is as if he is being submerged in ice cold water.
Something is pulling him, dragging him deeper and deeper.
Kiroku tries to feel whatever is weighing him down.
Hard, wet... stones?
No, turtle shells.
Hundreds of turtles are crawling over him,
trying to drown him in utter darkness.
Kiroku tries to scream, but no sound comes out.
He tries and he tries, but the trampling turtles suffocate him.
He gathers all that is left of strength to let out one last cry:
Help me!
Kiroku's wife enters the room.
Everything appears to have been but an illusion.
Or has it?
The turtles return every night,
never letting Kiroku rest.
Those hundreds of cold, hard shells... again and again.
Tormenting him for days, weeks,
continuing until he can no longer take it,
until... until... !
Until Kiroku vows to never take the life of an innocent being ever again.
A starry, moonlit evening.
A gentle wind blows.
The streets are dark and empty,
save for one young woman, dressed in a stunning, silken garb.
Her thick, ebony hair shines beautifully in the moonlight.
She moves ever so graciously.
She disappears around a corner.
Ah! There she is again!
Please, wait!
She comes to a standstill...
and, slowly, she turns around...
Her face... This is no fair maiden! A monster!!
Iyaya turns back around
and leaves her victim behind,
shocked and flustered.
She disappears back into the night.
On dark and quiet nights, in secret places,
strings of lanterns and torches can be seen,
stretching out single file in an unbroken chain,
more than two miles long.
It is a rare sight, but an unmistakable one.
It is said that on such nights,
young foxes claim their mates.
However...
These foxes remain quite elusive to humans.
None have ever seen these festivities up close,
for the foxes would always swiftly disappear.
But from afar, one can see the fox fire.
Flickering lights as far as the eye can see!
Finally, the procession reaches its destination:
a small shrine on a faraway hill.
And so, the dearly beloved reunite.
They celebrate by joining in a playful dance.
And so, they lived happily ever after,
continuing to play tricks on the ever curious humans.
Some say there exists a dreadful black magic spell,
which can be performed only at the time of darkest night, in the hour of the ox,
when the border between the world of the living and that of the spirits is weakest.
At this time, evil spirits can be summoned into our world.
To begin the ritual, one must first be dressed in a ceremonial garb.
And then,
a sacrificial doll must be made.
Doll in hand, one must travel to a shrine with a sacred tree.
Once at the tree,
the doll must be pinned to it,
hammered stuck with an iron nail.
The gate between worlds now opens...
Evil spirits are drawn into the world of the living,
to exact revenge on whoever the spellcaster begrudges.
This ritual must be repeated for many nights.
But, they must be careful.
If they are seen, any witnesses must immediately be killed!
Because, if not,
The spellcaster will be the one to be dragged off into the spirit world instead.
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