Episode 193 – The Violet Well – Myths Your Teacher Hated

Episode 193 Show Notes

Source: Japanese Folklore

This week on MYTH, it’s our annual Halloween special. You’ll learn that deadly snakes love violets, that love can hurt, and that father doesn’t always know best. Then, in Gods and Monsters, we’ll meet a terrible monster that gets its name from its habit of eating the dead. This is the Myths Your Teacher Hated podcast, where I tell the stories of cultures from around the world in all of their original, bloody, uncensored glory. Modern tellings of these stories have become dry and dusty, but I’ll be trying to breathe new life into them. This is Episode 193, “The Violet Well”. As always, this episode is not safe for work.
Spooky season is here once again, which means it’s time for the annual Halloween special. As a spooktacular little bonus, this episode will actually come out on Halloween proper, which is fun for me. Anyway, this year’s ghost story comes from Ancient Tales and Folklore of Japan, collected by Richard Gordon Smith in 1908. This particular story was originally told by Shofukutei Fukuga.
Once upon a time in the wild province of Yamato, which is now Nara Prefecture in Honshu, there towers a beautiful mountain known as Yoshino Yama – the name it still carries today. Mount Yoshimo is known for the wild beauty of its abundant cherry blossoms that cover the mountainside every spring, but it also has a darker side. This mountain has been the staging ground for a number of bloody historical battles. Across from this blood-soaked peak stands another known as Tsubosaka and between them lies the Valley of Shimizutani. It is here, in this valley where one strides upon history with every step, that the Violet Well can be found.
Spring is a thing of beauty in the Valley of Shimizutani. The grass turns that perfect shade of emerald green, a carpet spread out amongst the rocks and boulders dappled with moss in a darker shade. As the end of April nears, great blooms of wild violets erupt across the valley, a deep purple that stands in glorious contrast to the pinks and scarlets of the azaleas . It was during one such spring some 30 years ago (so actually more like 150 years ago by now) that a beautiful 17 year old girl named Shinge was walking peacefully through the valley with four servants.
The five young women had set out for a picnic in the natural beauty of the valley, and they were also on the hunt for the most exquisite wildflowers to pick. O Shinge San was the daughter of a Daimio, a powerful feudal lord, who ruled over much of the neighboring lands. She had made a habit out of coming to this valley every year at the height of spring to pick flowers, especially since her favorite was by far the sumire, the purple violet. All five girls carried their own bamboo baskets, competing amongst themselves to be the one to create the prettiest arrangement.
Alas for O Shinge San, there were not as many of her beloved purple violets as there usually were. She looked around and saw, off in the distance, the violet well, so named for the abundance of violets that grew there. She pointed towards her servants who were the closest thing she had to real friends with a laugh. “Let’s all go over to the well! I want to find more violets.” No one had any objection, and only in part because they were servants whose job was to agree with the princess on everything unless she was about to do something very, very dangerous. They had also come to love the exquisite flowers and were likewise eager to mix them into their growing bouquets.
O Shinge San outran the rest because of course she did, and so it was she who spotted the enormous bloom of violets growing beside the well. These were the deepest purple she had ever seen in her life, and so she threw herself down on the soft grass to collect all the best ones before the others could arrive. Thus, the poor girl was all alone when her hand found not violets but scaly skin. As she stared, frozen in horror, a great mountain serpent reared up from the carpet of flowers, swaying hypnotically. O Shinge San was so terrified of the snake’s lethal reputation that she fainted dead away without the snake so much as hissing in her direction.
Meanwhile, the four servant girls had stopped even pretending to run. Their mistress clearly wanted to win the race, and they could all get a little break while making her happy. Win win. They picked other flowers along the way and even chased an errant butterfly before finally reaching the violet well a full 15 minutes later. As they neared, they couldn’t help but see the still form of their mistress lying stretched out in the grass beside the well. They feared the worst, and these suspicions seemed confirmed when they stepped close enough to spot the enormous mountain serpent curled up by the motionless girl’s head.
The story says that they screamed as most girls do amid such circumstances, which seems unfair. I think a lot of people would scream upon finding the corpse of someone who is both your best friend and a very powerful noble who you’re employed to keep safe. Three of them stood there in a panic, screaming their lungs out which was doing nothing but agitating the snake. The fourth, Matsu, kept a cooler head. I imagine that she was still screaming, but she also hurled her basket of flowers at the snake, driving it away from the motionless O Shinge San. The snake didn’t much care for the cacophony and it certainly didn’t appreciate the floral bombardment, so it hissed in annoyance and slithered away in search of somewhere cool and quiet.
When they were safe, the four girls rushed over to check on their mistress. None of them were doctors but they did their best. They rubbed her hands and chafed her wrists, they splashed cold well water on her face, and they called her name, but the girl didn’t stir. She was, to all appearances, stone dead. As was considered the height of fashion for nobility at the time, O Shinge San had an extremely pale complexion that she kept out of the sun as much as possible. That skin practically shone alabaster now it was so pale, and her lips had taken on the blue-purple hue that is a sign of approaching death. The story is never clear on this point, but it certainly seems like the snake did indeed bite her after she collapsed. The four handmaids were heartbroken, tears pouring down their cheeks – O Shinge San was dead! Even worse, they were all small girls and knew that they would not be able to carry their mistress the long distance back to their home.
“Don’t be so sad, ladies. I can restore your young friend to consciousness if you permit me to do so.” The young ladies jumped at the sound of a man’s voice coming from close behind them. They whirled around to find a remarkably handsome youth standing not ten feet from them. There was no rational explanation for how he could suddenly be standing there, and his appearance was angelic, so the young ladies decided to trust this clearly supernatural stranger. Maybe he really would have the power to bring their lady back from the dead.
Without actually waiting for the requested permission, the young man knelt down beside the prostrate figure of O Shinge San. He took her hand in his, turning it over to feel for the pulse in her wrist. It was a massive breach of etiquette, one that the servants weren’t entirely comfortable with. He had asked permission only to help, not to touch her, but his manner was so gentle and soothing that they held their tongues. She was already dead, they thought. What more could this young man possibly do?
The young stranger examined O Shinge San carefully and in complete silence. When he was satisfied, he pulled a medical case out of his pocket. From this, he produced a vial of white powder and poured out a small measure into a slip of paper. Holding this out to the maids, he finally spoke again. “I’m a doctor from one of the local villages here. I was on my way back from visiting a patient at the other end of the valley when I heard your cries. By good fortune, I was close enough to arrive in time to help. Give her this medicine. I’m going to track down and kill that snake.
The serving girl O Matsu San did so, forcing the powder past her mistress’ lips with trembling fingers with a little water to wash it down. Within just a few minutes, her color began to improve, her lips regaining their rosy red hue and her breathing growing deep and steady. Shortly thereafter, the young doctor returned with the corpse of a snake dangling from a stout branch. “Is this the snake that you saw lying beside your mistress when you found her?” “Yes, that’s the cruel fiend, that awful thing!” “Then it’s especially lucky that I happened to return this way. This breed of snake is very venomous; a single bit can kill. I fear your mistress would have been dead in a few more minutes had I not arrived.” He knelt down to examine the patient again, though without touching her this time. “Ah, it seems the medicine is already having an effect. She should be right as rain in no time.”
At the sound of the doctor’s voice, O Shinge San sat up unsteadily. “When that dreadful snake bit me, I thought for sure I was dead. Who am I indebted to for saving my life?” The young doctor didn’t answer. Instead, he stood with a proud smile, straightened his clothes, and bowed low and respectful. Without another word, he strode away and disappeared into the thick mist that always appears in the early spring afternoons in Shimizu Valley.
The young women had no time to concern themselves with the comings and goings of young country doctors at the moment. The four maids gathered around the still-woozy O Shinge San to help her get to her feet. She felt much better and was able to walk with only a little help from the others thanks to the medicine she had been given. The Daimio and his wife were extremely grateful for the young doctor’s assistance when they heard the story of her near-death experience. O Shinge San told a very abridged version of the story, afraid that if her parents knew everything, they would forbid her from visiting the Violet Well ever again. If they had known the man’s name, they would have thanked him properly for his good deed but, alas, his name remained a secret to everyone. Everyone, that is, except for O Matsu San who was pretty sure she recognized him. She kept his secret though. If he wanted to remain anonymous, she wouldn’t blow his cover.
O Shinge San remained the absolute picture of health for the next four days, but on the fifth, she took to her bed saying only that she felt ill. She did not sleep and she ignored all attempts to talk to her or ask what was wrong. The girl stared out the window lost in her own melancholy thoughts for thinking was all she seemed to want to do. Given her recent brush with death, her parents were understandably worried about a relapse or some other illness, but nothing appeared wrong. She had no fever, no cough, no pain. Doctors were sent for one after another, all the best that money could buy, but none could say what was the matter with the young woman. She seemed perfectly healthy except for the fact that she was slowly wasting away in bed and refusing to speak to anyone. The Daimio Asano Zembei was heartbroken, as was his wife (who does not get a name because of course she doesn’t). They had tried everything they could think of, but they had failed their little girl. They seemed utterly powerless to save their daughter from whatever bizarre wasting sickness was afflicting her.
When the last doctor had come and gone without fixing anything, O Matsu San requested an audience with Daimio Asano Zembei, which was highly unusual. Zembei was not in the habit of noticing servants, let alone listening to their opinions. He wasn’t totally oblivious though and he knew that Matsu was devoted to his daughter and loved her nearly as much as he himself did. She wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important and, after such faithful service, she had earned at least this much trust. Zembei granted the audience with the serving girl.
“Great Daimio, if you will permit me to find a doctor for my lady, I swear that I can find the one that can cure her!” Zembei was confused and just a little insulted. “And just where the fuck are you going to find this doctor? Have you not seen the parade of literally all the best doctors in the province and even some from the capital itself? Are you implying that we haven’t tried hard enough, that we missed one? Where do you propose to find this new doctor? On top of a mountain somewhere?” O Matsu San bowed very, very deeply to try and convey that no offense or insult had been intended. This was the risk you always took when dealing with the rich and powerful. “You have certainly brought in all of the most highly vaunted experts in medicine that exist, great Daimio, but I believe that my mistress is suffering from something that cannot be cured by any medicine, no matter how rare or expensive. Her illness is of the heart. I believe that this doctor can cure her not because of his skill as a doctor, but because it is for him that my mistress pines. She has been heartsick for the man who saved her life ever since she awoke to find him standing over her.”
And O Matsu San told the Daimio and his wife the whole story of what had happened at the Violet Well, deciding that saving her mistress’ life was more important than hiding the danger of that place. If she wasted away unto death, O Shinge San would never be able to visit again anyway. “So this mysterious, handsome young doctor is the one you would seek out? Who is he?” “He is Doctor Yoshisawa, a very proper and courtly young man and incredibly handsome. Unfortunately, he is of common birth being only of the eta (the lowest rung of the social hierarchy in feudal Japanese society).” The Daimio sat back at that. Having this lowborn doctor save his daughter’s life in the middle of nowhere by chance was one thing. Inviting such a low-status commoner here to the palace was quite another.
O Matsu San knew how this was going over with the Daimio and she bowed low again. “Please, oh great one, think of my mistress’ young heart burning with love for the one that saved her life. She knows nothing of his station, only his courage and cleverness and compassion. He has the beauty of a cherry blossom and the courtly manners of a samurai. The only cure to your daughter’s wasting sickness is to give her heart what it yearns for – marriage to this wonderful doctor whom she loves.”
O Shinge San’s mother wept at the maid’s heartfelt plea on behalf of her mistress. She knew well the illnesses that unrequited love could cause (and the story implies that she knew from personal experience). She begged her husband to do what was required to save their beloved daughter, whatever the social ramifications. “I feel as sorrowful as you do, my lord, for the terrible trouble that has come to our doorstep. It is a hard thing, but I simply cannot sit idly by and watch my daughter die when I have the means to save her. We don’t have to jump straight to marriage though. Let us tell her that we know of this young doctor and that we will make inquiries about the man she loves to see if we can make him our son-in-law. She will know as well as you and I do that such inquiries are custom and can take many days to complete. With luck, our daughter may recover enough in those days to be strong enough to take the news that we cannot accept her lover as her husband.”
The Daimio agreed to this plan, but only because it ended without his daughter being married to someone from the eta, which was utterly unacceptable. It seems like a cruel trick to me, but then I’m not a feudal lord. Zembei agreed and they swore O Matsu San to secrecy about this interview. O Shinge San was told that, although her father had not agreed to an engagement as of yet, he had agreed to make inquiries about the young doctor Yoshisawa, who had saved her life. I don’t know why they’re trying to keep it a secret that the Daimio and his wife spoke with O Matsu San. How else are they supposed to have learned the full story of what happened since O Shinge San had deliberately left the important bits out?
As her mother had guessed, this news gladdened her daughter’s heart. She began eating again and regained her strength rapidly. Her parents gave her ten days of hope before they judged her strong enough to hear the truth. She was called into an audience with her mother and father, an audience that she felt sure would be to announce their blessing for marriage to her beloved doctor. “My sweet daughter,” began the Daimio, “I have made many careful inquiries about Dr. Yoshisawa, the man who saved your life and who has stolen your heart. He seems an honorable man, which makes this even harder. It grieves me deeply to say that it is impossible for me, as your father, as the head of our noble family, and as Daimio of this province, to consent to your marriage to one from so low-born a family as Yoshisawa. In spite of his obvious goodness and excellent manners, he is from the eta. It simply cannot be and I will hear no more of it. Such a marriage contract is impossible in the Asano family.”
Silence fell over the hall, broken only by the heartbroken weeping of O Shinge San. No one dared to speak a word in protest against the Daimio’s ruling. His word was law and there was none with the power to gainsay him when his mind was thus made up. Still weeping, O Shinge San bowed deeply to her father and returned to her own room to grieve. O Matsu San was waiting there to try and console her best friend, but she knew it was an impossible task. There was no cure for this heartache but time.
The next morning, when the servants came to wake O Shinge San and check on her, they found her room empty. The Daimio’s household burst into activity, searching the entire household to no avail. When that failed, they began to search throughout the province and even Dr. Yoshisawa himself joined the search. He had to have known that the Daimio was making inquiries about him and that it meant that O Shinge San had figured out who he was and had fallen in love. He couldn’t know what was said in the private audience between daughter and father, but he could assume what the outcome would be. He knew what it meant to be of the eta.
They found her on the third day. One of the searchers had made their way all the way out to the Valley of Shimizutani and to the Violet Well. It was well known as one of her favorite places in the world, so it would be a reasonable place for O Shinge San to go in search of solace. Only, that wasn’t why she had gone there. The Daimio’s heartbroken daughter had returned to where her life had almost ended and where she had met the young doctor she loved with all her heart to end her life. She had jumped into the Violet Well and drowned herself, unable to bear the thought of never being with her beloved.
Her corpse was fished out of the well and prepared for burial as best it could. Two days later, she was buried with all the pomp and circumstance due to a Daimio’s daughter. That night, Dr. Yoshisawa also disappeared without a trace. It didn’t take long for his family to find his body floating in the Violet Well. He had thrown himself in to drown where his beloved had died, devastated by her death, by the guilt he felt at being the cause of her suffering, and at his own heartbreak for not being allowed to marry O Shinge San (for he too had fallen in love).
To this day when the weather turns dark and stormy, people say that the ghost of O Shinge San can be seen floating above the Violet Well. And, if you listen very closely, you may even hear the weeping of a young man echoing through the Valley of Shimizutani. They each died alone and, in death, they remain alone and heartbroken so close to each other and yet unable to ever be together. It’s a deeply tragic ghost story, and it’s one I’ve been wanting to tell for a while. And so, with the two young lovers cursed to an eternity apart for the sin of loving across class boundaries, it’s time for Gods and Monsters. This is a segment where I get into a little more detail about one of the gods or monsters from this week’s pantheon that was not discussed in the main story. This week’s monster is the jikininiki.
This story comes from Japanese Myths and Legends, collected by J. K. Jackson in 2022. There once was a priest named Muso Kokushi, who got lost while traveling through the province of Mino. He had somehow lost the road and ended up in the ass end of nowhere with no sign whatsoever of human habitation. Despairing of finding somewhere even vaguely civilized to sleep, the priest resolved to spend the night under the stars. As he began looking for a likely spot however, he stumbled across a tiny hermitage, called an anjitsu, on the top of a hill.
Muso approached the anjitsu and was greeted by an ancient priest. “Hey there, friend. The sun’s already down and it’s getting dark fast. Your little place is the only shelter I’ve seen in some time. Would it be alright if I slept here tonight?” We’ve talked before about how important the rules of guestright were in the ancient world. The specifics vary from culture to culture, but Muso had every reason to expect a warm welcome, a hot meal, and a clean bed that night as was required by tradition.
The ancient priest frowned and shook his head. “No, it’s absolutely NOT alright. I never give shelter to anyone in this anjitsu, and that means you, asshole. If you head a little farther into that valley over there, you’ll find a little hamlet. You’ll be able to find a place to sleep there without any trouble. Now fuck off.” The priest’s words were unexpectedly rude for such a simple request, and it caught Muso completely off-guard. Still, he was a polite man even if this other priest was a dick, so he took his leave calmly and headed for the valley and its tiny village.
In the hamlet, Muso was greeted warmly by the hamlet’s mayor and offered shelter and hospitality. As he entered the main house, he saw a number of people gathered together, but he was shown through to a separate room. Grateful for a relatively private place to sleep, he was just about to drift off when a commotion from the main room startled him awake. There was a great cry of lamentation and, moments later, a young man appeared in his doorway with a lantern.
“Good priest, I am sorry to have disturbed your slumber, but my father died earlier today, before you arrived. The people you saw gathered out front were all here to pay their respects to the dead. We didn’t explain all this to you when you first arrived because you were obviously tired and needed your rest. I didn’t want you to feel like you had to participate in the rituals and ceremonies. I wouldn’t have woken you now except that, per our village’s custom, everyone is leaving to stay with friends in a neighboring village. The corpse must be left alone at night or else terrible things happen to us. We wanted to give you the chance to come with us. Given that you’re a priest, maybe spending the night alone with a dead body in the house doesn’t bother you, but we thought you should know the truth before you decide.”
Muso was indeed quite tired, which may have informed his decision to stay. “You are correct, young man – I am not afraid of demons or ghosts. I will stay here and keep your father’s body company tonight. I will perform a small service for him and keep watch tonight to make sure nothing strange happens during everyone’s absence.” The young man was grateful for the priest’s offer and soon enough, the entire hamlet’s population had deserted the place, leaving the priest alone with the dead man.
Muso went through the usual rituals and rites and then settled in to meditate as he kept watch over the body. Several uneventful hours passed before the priest became aware of another presence in the room. He remained still but looked around the room and saw what he could only describe as a Shape, a thing that had no set form but was yet terrible and terrifying to look upon. Despite his earlier boldness, Muso was so horrified that he could neither move nor speak. The shape oozed forward, swaying across the floor towards the corpse. It then lifted the dead body and devoured it whole. Not content with this blasphemous meal, the formless thing then devoured all of the offerings around the body before vanishing as abruptly as it had appeared.
Dawn wasn’t far off and, in the morning, the hamlet’s inhabitants returned. Upon hearing that the corpse had been eaten by a nameless thing, no one seemed surprised. Muso however was still quite shaken. “You said you didn’t want to wake me to perform the ceremonies, but I’m surprised that you didn’t send for the little old priest living in that anjitsu just beyond the valley. Does he never come down and perform the funerary rites? He was very rude about denying me shelter there when I stopped by last night, but he was at least kind enough to direct me here.”
“Um, honored priest? There’s no one living on the hill, certainly not a venerable priest. There’s no anjitsu there for him to live in if he existed either. You must have met some evil spirit who simply pretended to be a hermit for whatever strange reasons such wicked spirits have.” Muso did not reply, musing on what he had seen. He was unconvinced but the villagers were quite certain on the matter. Taking his leave as soon as he politely could, the priest returned the way he had come. If at all possible, he meant to unravel this mystery.
He had no difficulty finding the anjitsu again right where he remembered it being. The old priest emerged again as Muso approached, bowing deeply. “I apologize for my rudeness last night, sir. I am deeply ashamed. Not only did I deny you shelter when you were in need, but you have seen me in my true, terrible shape. You have seen me consume a corpse and its funerary offerings as the monster I am. Alas sir, I am a jikininki (which translates roughly to man-eating-goblin or ghost). If you will bear with me, I will try to explain what has happened and how I became what I am.”
Muso indicated that he was willing to listen and settled in to hear out the monstrous priest’s story. “Many years ago, I actually was a priest in this district. I performed a great number of burial services as was expected of me, but I’m afraid that I wasn’t a good or honest priest. I didn’t perform these services in honor of the gods or even with compassion towards the mourners who sought my help. No, I thought only of the fine, expensive clothes I could get with the money I was paid for my services. The people in my district needed that money more than I, but I took as much as I possibly could to buy as much finery as I could manage. My greed burned in my heart and, when I died, I was reborn as a jikininki as punishment for my wickedness. Ever since, I have been cursed to eat the corpses of all those who die in this district. I can’t stop it, no matter how much I want to. But you can. If you have any pity on an old fool, then please perform a Segaki ritual (a Japanese Buddhist ritual meant to stop the suffering of restless or hungry ghosts) on my behalf. This is the only way that I can ever find peace and stop terrorizing the poor people of that hamlet. Please sir, make an end to my great wickedness.”
Muso considered for a moment. “I would be happy to perform a Segaki for you, suffering soul.” The living priest immediately launched into the words of the ritual, his voice ringing through the air. As he finished the last words, the old priest and his anjitsu both vanished. Muso found himself kneeling in tall grass beside a moss-covered pile of stones. Upon examination, the priest realized that this was almost certainly the tomb of the dead priest who had become a jikininki. From that day forward, the hamlet was never bothered by the corpse eater ever again.
There are several stories of the corpse-devouring goblin, the jikininki, and they are all fairly similar. They are a variety of hungry ghosts who are created from the souls of those who are especially greedy, selfish, or otherwise impious during life. They are cursed to seek out and devour the fresh corpses of dead humans after they die and are reborn, aware of what they are doing but powerless to stop it. They exist in a limbo state between life and death as do many ghosts. They and their dwellings are said to be invisible during the day but they sometimes appear to lost travelers at night like our priest Muso. So if you meet an especially rude priest in the middle of nowhere one night who doesn’t want you to spend the night, maybe get as far away as you can.
That’s it for this episode of Myths Your Teacher Hated. Keep up with new episodes on our Facebook page, on iTunes, on TuneIn, on Vurbl, and on Spotify, or you can follow us on Instagram as MythsYourTeacherHatedPod, on Tumblr as MythsYourTeacherHated, and on Bluesky as MythsPodcast. You can also find news and episodes on our website at myths your teacher hated dot com. If you have any questions, any gods or monsters you’d want to learn about, or any ideas for future stories that you’d like to hear, feel free to drop me a line. I’m trying to pull as much material from as many different cultures as possible, but there are all sorts of stories I’ve never heard, so suggestions are appreciated. The theme music is by Tiny Cheese Puff.
Next time, we’ll dip back into the strange and gruesome tales of the Brothers Grimm. You’ll see that soldiers won’t fight if they’re starving, that dragons are bad at riddles, and that it’s always better to be lucky than good. Then, in Gods and Monsters, it’s a listener request tale about three army surgeons with a fondness for self-surgery. That’s all for now. Thanks for listening.