The Japanese Ghost That Wants its Fish Returned
Ghost stories have been a part of civilization for longer than we can accurately measure. Oral traditions from antiquity have preserved the ritual of telling an unsettling tale as something that many of us still enjoy today.
The idea of spooky stories always takes me to a childlike place of escapism and enjoyment. I can still recall being 5 years old and clutching my beloved cassette tape of terrifying tales. Even as a teenager in the army, I would often sneak away to the stairwells of the training barracks after lights out, to read newly circulating internet urban legends on a contraband cell phone.
At first, it seems odd how many of us tend to conjure up feelings of nostalgia and comfort around something that’s meant to be uncomfortable. But it makes sense when you consider that our folk tales and legends are a celebrated part of our culture. Nearly every American adult remembers that holding a candle to a mirror in a darkened room could come with consequences.
Japan is no different. The deep respect that Japan holds for its folklore can be seen woven into society at large, and in Tokyo, the odds of bumping into something ghostly are delightfully high.
The weird and wonderful world of Yokai
The colorful characters that make up Japan’s collection of Yōkai (妖怪, "strange apparitions") have disturbed and delighted Japan fans all over the world for as long as they’ve existed.
Yokai are sometimes mistranslated as just being your regular, run-of-the-mill demons, when in reality, they are far more complex and nuanced. At the risk of oversimplifying them myself - they’re not all that different from Pokémon.
That’s because Yokai come in all shapes and sizes. Some look like animals, some look like people, and some look like inanimate objects (there's even an umbrella Yokai).
They’re not always friendly, but they’re not always dangerous either. That’s why not knowing which Yokai in particular you might be dealing with is all part of the excitement.
The Seven Mysteries of Honjo
Way back in the Edo period, Tokyo’s Sumida ward was known as Honjo. Filled with marshes and canals, the area was far more wild and rural than it is today. Even back then, Honjo was seen as an escape from the intense hustle and bustle of the inner city.
The villages were sparsely populated, dimly lit, and filled with the sounds of foxes and tanuki, both well-known tricksters in Japanese folklore. Over time, Honjo naturally became known as a hotspot for Yokai encounters.
Seven stories of such encounters would be passed down as the Honjo Nana Fushigi (本所七不思議, “Seven Mysteries of Honjo”).
The ghost that wants its fish returned
If you’re walking through Honjo (in modern-day Kinshicho), you might just stumble onto the first of the Seven Mysteries.
The legend of Oitekebori gets its name from Oiteke (置いてけ, “leave it there") and Hori (堀, “castle moat"). Combining the two words translates to something like "The Leave it There Moat."
The story goes like this.
A pair of friends are fishing in an unassuming Honjo creek. When the sun finally sets on their fun-filled afternoon, they’ve caught more than enough fish to call the trip a success.
Then, suddenly, a terrifying voice cries out from the depths.
“Oiteke!”
This is where retellings of the tale begin to differ. In some versions, the fishermen simply flee the scene in horror and leave the fish behind. In others, the story ends with one or both of the friends getting dragged into the moat before being savagely torn apart by the evil entity that dwells below.
As for the identity of the unfriendly creature, different opinions have led historians to place the blame on different Yokai. While the subject is still up for debate, it would seem that most fingers point to the Kappa - Japan's reptilian river spirit known for everything from light mischief to malice murder.
A glimpse into a different time
Today, the area around Oitekebori can still be a bit creepy, though Yokai are no longer to blame. The south side of Kinshicho station has become somewhat of a red light district, making it one of the less tourist-friendly areas in an otherwise very safe city. However, as long as you avoid entering any questionable establishments, you're unlikely to be bothered by any local (human) troublemakers.
Despite the ever-changing landscape, the stories and legends remain.
Whether you believe in them or not, there is something undeniably alluring about the spirits and sprites of Honjo. So if you ever find yourself here, take a moment to stop and really look around. Who knows what you might encounter, or what kind of story it might inspire.