Our next element is water, 水. I did a water ghost
before, and in fact, the Funa-Yūrei have a bit in common with today's
yōkai, but they are vastly different in appearance, location, lore, and
whatnot. They are, however, sometimes considered to be
partners-in-crime, if for no other reason than because a lot of really
freaky things exist in the ocean.
This is not a yōkai. This thing is definitely swimming around in the water right now. Tastes damn good, though.
So
you're drifting about at sea, perhaps it's stormy weather and you
brought a crew along, after having rudely ignored my warnings of the
Funa-Yūrei. But you've managed not to go out during O-bon, and you're
far enough away from the shore to worry about ghostly ships haunting the
ports. You think you're safe. The yōkai and I laugh diabolically at
your folly. There's nowhere to go, you should know that by now. At
least five yōkai, three ghosts, and even a couple of kami can inhabit
your bathroom toilet alone.
Suddenly, you see a mass of blackness
gathering just under the water. It looks almost like a bloom of
jellyfish rising to the surface. And it looks just like a jellyfish
coming out of the water. An enormous jellyfish. Several stories tall.
With eerily glowing eyes that watch you. And it's entirely made of a
black, ghostly shadow.
This is the Umi-bōzu, (海坊主), or "Sea Monk," so-named because the orb-like head resembles that of a Buddhist monk's shaven head.
Umi-bōzu
aren't particularly monklike, though. They have been known to appear
in various sizes, from that of a tiny Umi-bōzu the size of your palm, to
an enormous, towering mass of blackness that blocks out the stars.
Medium-sized Umi-bōzu like to capsize ships.
Unfortunately
for you, I don't know of any foolproof way to stop them. Some are said
to be weak to tobacco smoke, and I heard of one story where a notable
man of noble lineage was able to confuse it with a pun of some sort and
make his way back to land in the Umi-bōzu's confusion, but noble people
are always making puns and getting themselves even more killed for it,
so I seriously wouldn't recommend it.
The
larger Umi-bōzu seem to just... hover there. The nature of the yōkai
is such that I wonder why the sea water the Umi-bōzu composes itself of
becomes so black and ominous-looking. Probably they commit even more
terrifyingly nefarious deeds than I can even imagine and go on to
describe here.
A happy Umi-bōzu can't possibly be good news for you.
Umi-bōzu
aren't just the stuff of Edo-era fisherman's tales, though. Several
Umi-bōzu have popped up in relatively recent popular culture.
Don't be caught off-guard by his adorable visage on the Mizuki Road.
An octopus-like Umi-bōzu appears in the video game Muramasa: The Demon Blade.
With
this model kit, you can build your very own Robo-Umi-bōzu, complete
with shooting laser-beam nose. Your guess is as good as mine.
It's
interesting that Umi-bōzu seem to be depicted in modern times as funny
and cute, because I remember being deathly afraid of them as a child.
Just the thought that this monstrous creature had access to the whole of
the ocean's water at his disposal with which to make his creepy black
nebulous body gave me nightmares.
They
scare me much more than the Funa-Yūrei. I'm not sure why I've been so
freely admitting my fear of certain yōkai to you in these past few
entries.
The Umi-bōzu's card in the famous Obake Karuta deck.
And I'll end it with the picture that terrified me as a child, by Utagawa Kuniyoshi:
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