Ōnamuchi and the Epic Bromance

This episode we continue with the rest of the story of Ōnamuchi--aka Ōnamochi, Ōkuninushi, Ōmononushi, Ashihara Shiko'o, Utsushikunitama, etc.   Last episode talked about his martial and marital exploits in becoming Ōkuninushi, the Great Land Master, and now we dive into his role as a Creator kami--finishing the work of Izanagi and Izanami.  We'll also talk a little about his partner, Sukuna Bikona, who assisted him in most of this endeavor, as well as how he came to also be associated with Ōmiwa no kami, the tutelary spirit of Yamato.  Finally, we'll discuss the land-ceding story, and how he eventually gave it all up to the Imperial Ancestor, Ninigi no Mikoto. 

For more go to: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-18

Rough Transcript

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is episode 18: Ohonamuchi and the Epic Bromance.

So last episode we covered Ohonamuchi’s story primarily as it is told in the Kojiki, with some input from the Fudoki.  There we see him as a general culture hero: initially the runt of the litter, his origin story takes us through the encounter with the white rabbit of Inaba, his conflicts with his many brothers, as well as his marriages to various women as he was becoming Ohokuninushi—the Great Master of the Country (or else the Master of the Great Country—either way, the meaning seems pretty clear).  This episode we’ll continue with his story, but as Ohonamuchi, the Creator—a deity who finished the work of Izanagi and Izanami, with a little help from a friend.

But before we do that, I thought I should note that I did neglect one area of research that I should have included, and that was the story as retold in the Kujiki.  The Kujiki is a little different than the Kojiki and Nihon Shoki in that it reverses the two parts of Ohonamuchi’s life.  Whereas the Kojiki talks about Ohonamuchi’s life up through his marriage to Suseri Hime and then goes on to his work as a Creator spirit, the Kujiki has it reversed, whilst the Nihon Shoki only carries this latter part of the story.  In addition, the Kujiki seems to treat Ohonamuchi’s 80 brothers—the Yasogami—as a single entity, Kotoyasu no Kami, rather than as separate kami.  And remember the betrothal to Princess Yagami of Inaba?  You know, the one with the white rabbit and all of Ohonamuchi’s brothers going to court her at once?  Well this certainly makes the story with Yagami a little less odd, as there would now be only two suitors.  Otherwise, much of the story is the same, though missing some of the poetry.

So anyway, about this other aspect of Ohonamuchi—the Creator.  It might seem odd that he would be a “Creator” god given everything so far.  After all, didn’t Izanami and Izanagi create the world?  What was left?

Well, for one thing, in at least some of the stories, as you may recall, they never finished their creation:  Izanami died giving birth, and though Izanagi continued some creation after that, apparently it was still unfinished.  And then Susanowo was supposed to take care of the terrestrial realm, but much of his story was taken up with him heading up to the Heavenly Plain and then down to the Nether World.  So apparently there were still a few things to do.

More likely, though, I suspect that Ohonamuchi’s creation was focused on his province of Izumo—and possibly the surrounding regions.

In fact, there are roughly four Izumo creation deities.  First, of course, there’s Susanowo, who we already talked about.  He is a pretty big deal in the Chronicles, but makes much less of a showing in the Izumo Fudoki.  Mostly he seems to have influence in the south of Izumo proper, up in the mountains.  Perhaps he shows up more in other Fudoki, but since there are only a few extant, it is hard to know.

Then there is Yatsukamizu Omizuno, who gets short shrift in the Chronicles—merely a mention in a genealogical record between Susanowo and Ohonamuchi—a genealogy that was likely created to try to put some semblance of order on disparate tradtitions.   However, he has an entire section in the Izumo Fudoki that is effectively the creation of the land of Izumo by pulling together pieces of Silla, the Oki Islands, and the Noto Peninsula.  Other mentions are all geared around this one myth—the kuni-biki, or land-pulling myth.  Given that and the fact that he is credited in the Fudoki with giving Izumo its name, he was certainly important, and his worship may have been connected with the traders and trade routes connecting Izumo to the various lands mentioned in the myth.

A third kami is Kami Musubi no Mikoto.  You may remember from last episode, this is the kami that helped Ohonamuchi’s mother bring him back to life, and also the parent to Ayato Hime, one of the kami that Ohonamuchi courts in the Fudoki.  Kami Musubi no Mikoto shows up mostly in the northern and coastal regions of the Shimane peninsula, in the districts of Tatenui and Izumo proper.

In the Chronicles, kami with the term “Musubi”—which can mean “to tie” or even “to procreate”—are generally High Gods, living in the Heavenly Plain, and they don’t typically descend to the earthly realm.  Kami Musubi no Mikoto, along with Takami Musubi no Mikoto, was among the first beings to come into existence, even before Izanagi and Izanami, and there is some thought that this deity was based on pre-agricultural concepts.

Another thing that is unclear is the gender of Kami Musubi no Mikoto and other “Musubi” kami.  It is quite possible that they were originally a genderless spirit concept, though the narrative does lean towards the feminine.  Takami Musubi no Mikoto, the other ancestor deity of the Imperial lineage, along with Amaterasu no Ohokami, is quite often seen as male.  Kami Musubi no Mikoto is frequently paired with Takami Musubi no Mikoto, and given that they have an offspring shared with Takami Musubi, one would understand them being considered female, but there is no clear indication in the text, and Japanese does not typically use pronouns or similar markers of gender unless the author is trying to make a specific point.  Without context clues such as “Hime” and “Hiko”, one just isn’t sure.  Therefore I’ve decided that the best pronoun in our English tale is “they”, as the third person gender neutral pronoun, to avoid otherwise misgendering them.  Besides, these are ineffable spirits, so just how hard should we try to “eff” them, anyway?

So these four—Susanowo, Yatsukamizu Omizunu, Kami Musubi, and Ohonamuchi are all considered creator gods in the Izumo tradition, but there are clues that Ohonamuchi is a bit more than the others.  Without even considering the Chronicles, the records from the Fudoki should help us see that Ohonamuchi—whether under that name or one of his many others—had connections that were much further afield.  Not only does Ohonamuchi show up in most of the regions of Izumo, where he can often be seen paired with daughters of Kami Musubi or Susanowo, but evidence of his worship are found up and down the Japan Sea coast and throughout the archipelago.  There are connections mentioned between him and the princesses of the triple shrines of Munakata, and there is even an Ohoanamuji Shrine down in Kagoshima. 

There are references to him that are traced to the no longer extant Iyo Fudoki, as well as elsewhere. In the remaining text of the Harima Fudoki Ohonamuchi—in this case as Ashihara Shikowo, the Ugly Man of the Reed Plains, as Susanowo had dubbed him in the Kojiki narrative.  

And he has all kinds of adventures.  In one story, he confronts a foreign deity, Ame no Hiboko, who is looking to come ashore.  He initially denies the kami’s request to land, but eventually allows him ashore.  Later, they have a contest to see who will have access to what lands.  So they throw ropes of kudzu vines from the top of Mt. Shinitake.  Hiboko’s ropes all land in parts of Tajima province, on the Japan Sea Coast next to Inaba.  Meanwhile, Ohonamuchi’s ropes land in Tajima and Harima province.

Now it is possible, of course, that these different names were once different kami, and that they’ve been collected together as a single individual over the centuries.  It could also be that some of the stories about Ohonamuchi originally were of different deities, and as the political map of the archipelago changed and as the influence of Izumo spread, Ohonamuchi was adopted into the stories, and other deities may have been forgotten.  Whatever the reason, Ohonamuchi was clearly well known across the islands, at least by the 8th century.

Still, he is not alone in his role as a creator.  He has help.  A sidekick of sorts.  Someone who will be the yin to his yang.  The Sundance to his Butch.  The Iron Man to his Captain America.  The Enkidu to his Gilgamesh. The Tippy Toe to his Squirrel Girl.  The… well, you get the picture.

The story goes something like this.

One day, Ohonamuchi was out walking along the beach, in Izumo province, when he heard a voice call out over the waves.  He looked out, but he initially couldn’t see anything.  Approaching the waves he found a tiny man floating in a hollowed out seed husk, wearing a cape made of the skin of a small bird—some sources say a wren, and others suggest a wagtail.

Intrigued, Ohonamuchi scooped up the little man and started “playing around with him.”  Yeah, I don’t think consent or even empathy was high on the list here.  This Asian Lilliputian wasn’t too thrilled with this treatment, apparently, and so he jumped up and bit Ohonamuchi on the cheek.  This startled Ohonamuchi, but he didn’t retaliate.  Instead, he asked the diminutive individual his name, but he got no answer.  And so he asked his attendant kami if they knew who he was, but nobody did.  Finally, a toad spoke up, and suggested that Ohonamuchi ask Kue Hiko—the Scarecrow spirit.

Now here’s the thing about the scarecrow spirit—though he has no legs, he sees everything.  And this makes some sense, you know?   As you pass by a rice field you see him standing there, motionless, just watching, but as soon as you come to the next field, there he is again.  He never moves, but he is everywhere, and always watching.

Quick side note here:  If you decide to do a Google search of Japanese scarecrows, be ready for some sleepless nights.  I mean I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything different from the country that brought you The Ring or, frankly, any of several horror films from Takashi Miike, but seriously, are they trying to scare crows or people?

Anyway, as it turns out, Kue Hiko does have the answer—this tiny fellow was none other than Sukuna Bikona no Mikoto, son of Takami Musubi no Mikoto and Kami Musubi no Mikoto. Ohonamuchi then confirmed this by going up to Heaven directly—in one story he asked Kami Musubi and they simply confirmed that he was their son, and in another he asked Takami Musubi no Mikoto, who told him about how Sukuna Bikona was indeed one of his 1500 or so children, but the kami was so small that he slipped through Takami Musubi’s fingers and had run off.  Apparently he wasn’t well known for following the rules.  Ohonamuchi was advised to treat him as a brother, and together they should create the world.

So a few things about this passage, starting with the name:  Sukuna Bikona—sometimes read as Sukuna Hikona, and using characters that could easily be read as Sukuna Hikone—literally the “Little Prince”, though as far as I know he doesn’t have his own planet floating out in space.

This name is simple enough, and the name “Sukuna” does show up later as a normal part of various names, mostly related to the Imperial family and the Imperial court in one way or another, and Hiko, or Hikone, are simply the male titles we’ve been seeing that often gets translated as “Prince” or “Lord”—the male equivalent of Hime.  There are some that also see the “Na” in “Sukuna” as connecting him with Ohonamuchi in another way.  Whereas Oho is “Great”, “Suku” is “Small”, and so I’ve seen some translate this as the Great Land Holder v. the Little Land Holder—though I’m not entirely sure I buy this etymology right now.

In addition to all that, some people have suggested that he might be a foreign deity—one brought in with immigrants, perhaps.  Of course, people have said the same of Susanowo and they could be correct, though I suspect it will be hard to prove such things definitively any time soon.

So then, Ohonamuchi and Sukuna Bikona went off to create the world.  Well, even there we have an interesting hint at what is meant.  You see the Chinese characters used would suggest that they were to “administer and govern”, but the gloss for the characters tells us that the word is “tsukuru”, meaning “to make or build”.  Are they creating the physical world, or are they building the state—whether the state of Izumo, or a state covering the entire archipelago?  The latter is certainly the interpretation that best fits the raison d’etre of the Chronicles, as we’ll discuss in later episodes, but it seems most often taken as the actual physical creation of the world.

Also, though the Chronicles say “the world”, I highly suspect that any creation was initially limited to the area of Izumo and its neighbors, just as the original creation of the “world” by Izanagi and Izanami was really just the islands of Japan.  So it was likely a distinction without a difference, and the story grew legs as word of Ohonamuchi spread.

So given that direction, Ohonamuchi and Sukuna Bikona went off together to finish the creation of the sub-celestial world.  They developed medicine and methods of healing both men and beasts.  They also created remedies against calamities—primarily agricultural calamities by birds, bugs, and all sorts of vermin.

In addition, in a later passage in the Chronicles is a poem where Jingu Tenno claimed that “Sukuna” brought sake, as well.  Of course, Sukuna, as I noted, is not a unique name in the chronicles, but there is at least a tradition that he is the one she was talking about.

The Chronicles don’t go into too much more detail, but there is a little more in the Fudoki, where the pair’s exploits are largely treated in agricultural terms.  They are often shown bringing rice or rice growing and processing technology.  Ohonamuchi even builds a sake brewery in a place now conveniently called Sakaya Tani, or Sake brewery dale.

Of course it isn’t all about going around and curing the sick and helping farmers keep their crops safe.  There are a few other passages that detail the pair’s partnership.

In one instance, in a lost copy of the Iyo manuscript that was recorded in the Shaku Nihongi in the 13th or 14th century, there is another story of Ohonamuchi and Sukuna Bikona meeting in Ehime, in Iyo—modern Shikoku.  In that story, Sukuna Bikona apparently is feeling unwell, but is restored by the healing waters of a local onsen, or hot springs.

By the way, you can still visit that hot spring, it is said.  The name is Dougo Onsen, and it claims to be one of if not the oldest hot spring in Japan, even if the modern business and bathhouse are not nearly as old as the story.  In fact, Ghibili fans might recognize the architecture, as it was apparently Miyazaki Hayao’s inspiration for Yubaba’s bath house in Spirited Away.

In another story out of the Fudoki, Ohonamuchi and Sukuna Bikona apparently paid nightly visits to Himejiwoka no Kami, and she, in turn, kept a food box and utensils for their nightly meals together.  Of course, that sounds like it was a little late for food, but whatever pretense is required.

Finally, there is a story out of the Harima Fudoki about a rather peculiar contest between the two.  It isn’t clear if there is a double meaning, but according to the entry, Sukuna Bikona suggested to Ohonamuchi that they should have a contest together.  One of them would try the ultimate challenge of bowel control—not allowing any bowel movement—that is, pooping—for as long as possible.  The other one would carry around a bucket full of red clay, like what they use for the haniwa that decorate the various kofun era mounded tombs.  Ohonamuchi decided that he would control his bowels and Sukuna Bikona will carry the clay.  It is three days before Ohonamuchi finally caved.  He congratulated Sukuna Bikona on his victory, and then took what I am sure was the most satisfying dump in all of history.  At that point, Sukuna Bikona was also grateful to put down his heavy load, so he dumped it out and that was the origin story given for Haniwoka—Clay Hill.

So the good times were rolling as Ohonamuchi and Sukuna Bikona traveled through the land and set things right.  But like all good things, it couldn’t last forever.  There is no clear reason why, though perhaps there is some hint in the conversation they had at one point, where Ohonamuchi, looking over the land, remarked at how proud he was that everything was complete.  Sukuna Bikona, however, had a slightly different take on the situation, remarking that some things were definitely complete, but there were still other parts of the land that were incomplete—there was still work to be done.

And yet, it is after that statement, at least in the Chronicles, where Sukuna Bikona departs the terrestrial world.  There are various stories—one has him departing from the Cape of Kumano, sailing off over the ocean.  But I particularly like the imagery of his departure from Awashima.  In that story, Sukuna Bikona went down to Awashima and climbed up on a millet stalk.  Once he reached the top, he used the stalk to catapult himself all the way to the Eternal World—Tokoyo. 

Ohonamuchi lamented the loss of Sukuna Bikona, who had been his partner for most of the creation.  It is said that he wandered the land and he did find places that were incomplete, as Sukuna Bikona had said, so he would finish those.

For example, the Kujiki mentions that the islands were still just kind of floating on the waters at this point, so hopefully that was one of the problems Ohonamuchi fixed.  They seem to be pretty well rooted now, at least last time I checked.

But anyway, with the loss of his friend, Ohonamuchi was clearly lonely, and at one point he cried out, asking if there was anyone else who could help him govern the world.  He was surprised to hear a voice and see a bright light—a divine radiance—from which a kami appeared.   There seems to be some vagueness in just what this new kami said, but it generally is of the gist:  “Without me, how could you subdue the land?”  The kami then claimed to be Ohonamuchi’s own propitious and wonderous souls—the sakitama and kushitama—dwelling on Mt. Mimoro, aka Mt. Miwa, in Yamato.  All Ohonamuchi needed to do was worship him—build him a shrine at Mt. Miwa.  This spirit is known as Ohomiwa no Kami.

And who wouldn’t pass that up?  Ohonauchi doesn’t need another partner, he just needs himself.  Kind of narcissistic if you ask me.

So for such a brief mention, there is a lot to unpack in this.  First off, though named as Ohomiwa no Kami, the general take seems to be that this is either Ohonamuchi himself or some part of Ohonamuchi’s spirit, which is worshipped at Mt. Miwa, in Yamato.

Usually we find this spirit named as Ohomononushi, which I somewhat irreverently translate as “Great Master of …Stuff”.  This is one of the names given to us in the Chronicles for Ohonamuchi, aka Ohokuninushi.

But what is this about him being some part of Ohonamuchi’s spirit?

At least in later Shinto doctrine this would seem to be related to the idea of “Ichirei Shikon”:  One spirit and four souls.  This is the idea that every kami and human is made up of multiple parts—there is one animating spirit (ichirei), but four souls.  These are as follows:

First, the Ara-mitama—the turbulent or violent soul.  

Next, the Nigi-mitama—the tranquil, or gentle soul.

Then there is the Saki-mitama—the propitious, or giving soul.

Finally, there is the Kushi-mitama—the wondrous, miraculous, or health-giving soul.

It is unclear if this theory was fully developed by the time that Ohonamuchi’s adventures were being chronicled, but the idea that there was not just a single soul is found across East Asia.  In China, there is the idea that the soul is divided into 2 different types, and there can be multiples of each—in one Daoist tradition, there are actually 7 souls.  While the exact number and their functions vary, it does provide a convenient explanation for how someone could be reincarnated at the same time that they wander the world as a hungry ghost at the same time that their corpse is animated as a hopping vampire.  And if you aren’t familiar with the last concept, I suggest looking up an old Ricky Lau comedy-horror: “Mr. Vampire”.  It may not answer all your questions, but it sure is entertaining.

So anyway, the long and short of it is that since every kami, or person, has multiple aspects, some kami are actually just aspects of other kami.  This is why Ohokuninushi can be the Great Land Master ruling from his home in Izumo while at the same time, a portion of his spirit can be residing at Mt. Miwa, as the Miwa deity, or Ohomiwa no Kami. 

And Mount Miwa is not just any mountain.  You may recall the Makimuku site, where they found evidence of a Yayoi period settlement that many believe could be the settlement described in the Chinese chronicles as the site of Himiko’s palace?  Mt. Miwa is one of the peaks overlooking that same site.  In addition, near Makimuku are the oldest keyhole shaped tomb mounds in existence, and since keyhole shaped tomb mounds are assumed to more or less define the extent of Yamato hegemony  in the kofun period, that seems a pretty strong indication that this was an important site for the imperial court, which was still based in the Nara region.

So Ohonamuchi, the principal deity associated with Izumo, is also considered the ujigami, or at least *an* ujigami—an ancestral or tutelary deity—of Yamato?

Well, yes.  But we should talk about this term “ujigami”, at least briefly.  I’d mentioned it back in Episode 15 when we talked about the ancestral deities that show up, but it should be noted, as Robert Ellwood did in “The Feast of Kingship” back in 1973, that ujigami are not necessarily directly ancestors, but they are just as often tutelary deities—that is guardian spirits.  So declaring Ohonamuchi an ujigami of Yamato doesn’t necessarily mean that they are claiming descent from Izumo in any way, but they are nonetheless relating themselves to this powerful and popular deity.

Of course, all this is being written down in the 8th century, so who knows how, exactly,  this came to be.  Was there some original connection between Yamato and Izumo, or did that come later?  Perhaps there was someone from Izumo who came down to Yamato, and brought the idea of Ohonamuchi with them.

Or was this just a case of spiritual appropriation?  Did Yamato just decide that their deity of Ohomiwa must also be related to Ohonamuchi?  Or was it literally the idea that the Ohomiwa deity was overseeing Ohonamuchi and helping him—offering protection and patronage?  It does feel like an easy way to retcon Yamato into all of these stories.

What, us?  Yeah, we were there all along.  It was Ohomiwa no Kami.  Nothing could have been done without him.  He was always there, it’s just that he was, umm, invisible, uhhh, and silent—yeah, that’s it! –until this point.  Yeah, we’ll go with that.

It would certainly be easy enough to see Ohomiwa no kami as a separate deity, later associated with Ohonamuchi, but at some point, they were clearly merged together as one.

Now as the deity Ohomononushi or Mt. Miwa, there is a lot more that happens, some of which we’ll touch on now, and some of which will surely come up in later episodes.  Como, Ooms, and others actually suggest that Ohomononushi was the chief focus of royal worship, and that worship was eventually given over to the Miwa family, or kinship group sometime around the 5th century, as their position in the royal court rose as well, though in the Nihon Shoki it seems to be earlier than that.  It wasn’t until later that the focus shifted to Amaterasu Ohomikami as the central, tutelary deity of the Yamato court.

The Kujiki has a story about this Mt. Miwa-based spirit of Ohonamuchi—we’ll just refer to him as Ohomononushi—that must have come from some other source, as it isn’t in either the Nihon Shoki nor the Kojiki.  It is said that after coming to Mt. Miwa, Ohomononushi would ride around on a Great Eagle, much as Gandalf did when he needed to get around quickly.  Ohomononushi wasn’t trying to toss any rings into Mt. Fuji or anything, though—he was looking for more wives.  Apparently he was looking for his own first and second wife.  I guess Ohonamuchi wasn’t about to share, even if Ohomononushi was just a part of him.

Eventually, he descended to the Chinu district and secretly took to wife a woman by the name of Ikutamayori Hime.  He would see her at night, secretly, until one day her parents noticed she was pregnant, which made them a little suspicious, but she wouldn’t tell them who the father was.  Instead, she went ahead and sewed a divine short robe and the next morning she left.  Her parents followed a thread from her room and it led them all the way to Yoshino, where they found her staying at Ohomiwa shrine at Mt. Mimoro. 

Later in the Nihon Shoki, during the reign of Sujin—so theoretically in or around the 2nd or 3rd century—a man named Ohotadaneko would show up, claiming to be descended from Ohomononushi and Ikutamayori Hime, and he would be given charge of the worship of Ohomononushi at Ohomiwa Shrine in part to help quell a plague—something we are all too familiar with right now. 

The Kujiki gives a slightly different account of Ohotadaneko’s parentage, still linked to Ohomononushi and Ikutamayori Hime, but with a few more genealogical stops along the way, and it pairs Ikutamayori Hime with one of Ohomononushi’s sons, Kotoshiro Nushi.

And I know, I know, I said I wouldn’t get too much into the genealogical connections—trust me, I’m not giving you the full list of names here, but there is a point, because that lineage has a royal connection.  You see, another descendant of Kotoshiro Nushi and Ikutamayori Hime—or possibly Tamakushi Hime, according to one of the stories in the Nihon Shoki.  Anyway, another descendant was a woman named Himetatara Isuzu Hime—or sometimes just Tatatara Isuzu Hime—who would become the wife of Kami-Yamato-Ihare-Biko Sumera no Mikoto, aka the sovereign, the divine prince of Ihare of Yamato, Hiko-hoho-demi, also known by his posthumous name as the legendary first emperor, Jimmu.  Thus merging—at least in the chronicles—the lines of Ohonamuchi and Amaterasu.  These are the kinds of connections found throughout the chronicles, and many of them were likely determined well before Temmu even had the idea to gather up a history of the imperial lineage.

So that’s Ohomononushi, and some of how he is connected to the royal house of Yamato.  I’m sure we’ll talk about him more throughout the various chapters, but for now, I think that is enough to get an idea of what might be going on here.

Before we completely leave Ohomiwa, however, I would note that you can still go ahead and visit Ohomiwa Shrine, today—it is considered the chief shrine of Yamato, still, and it has its own peculiar features.  Most notably is the lack of an actual shrine building.  Oh, there is a worship hall for prayers and ceremonies, but the actual kami, Ohomononushi, is considered to be the Mountain itself, and it used to be that the entire mountain was off-limits to most people, but it has since been opened up for pilgrimage.  It is thought that most early worship was of this kind—where there was a sacred place or feature where the kami would reside, and there would only be temporary buildings set up for their worship during different festivals.  By the time that the Nihon Shoki and Kojiki were written, however, there were permanent buildings erected for at least some of the shrines, but not all, apparently.

So while the incarnation of his sakimitama and kushimitama was down in Yamato, Ohokuninushi remained up in Izumo and life seems to have gone well.  He had many children, some sources say 180 in all, and of those children a couple in particular stands out, and one of those was Kotoshiro Nushi, whom we talked about earlier this episode and whose name appears to refer to Knowing Things—Koto wo Shiru—much like Omoikane no Kami in the heavenly plain.  The other son I’ll touch on here is Futsunushi, or Futsu no Mitama.  His status as a son of Ohokuninushi is a bit in question—the Chronicles have him born from the rocks that form the bed of the Heavenly river that we see as the Milky Way, but the Izumo Fudoki makes him a son of Ohokuninushi, which raises some questions.  Both play rather large roles in the next part of the story:  The Cedeing of the land to the Royal Grandchild.

We’re going to go through this story twice, so please bear with me.  Once in this episode, where we will take a look at it in the light of Ohonamuchi’s story, and again, later, as we shift our focus back to the Yamato royal line and their descent and claims to rule all of Japan.  Before we get there, though, I’d like to go over the archaeology of Izumo, and for that it would be good to have at least a basic understanding of this last piece.  It also helps explain why a god from Izumo is given credit as the master of the entire sub-celestial realm—but I get ahead of myself.

For the most part the story goes something like this.  Some time after Ohonamuchi—now Ohokuninushi—had subdued the land and completed the work of creation and putting things in order, the High God of Heaven, Takami Musubi, decided that his grandson, the Royal Ancestor, Ninigi no Mikoto, should rule over the Land of the Reed Plains. Ninigi is a descendant of Amaterasu, and in some of the stories she is the one who decides he should rule.  Regardless of who it is, the sub-celestial world was inconveniently occupied by terrestrial spirits, the Kunitsu Kami, and if they put up a fight it would be difficult.  So the way must be prepared.

Various deities were sent down, many of them coming under the sway of Ohokuninushi and refusing to report back to Heaven.  Finally, the Heavenly kami sent down two deities:  Futsunushi and Takemikazuchi to settle the matter.  They went straight away to Ohokuninushi—after all, if the Great Land Master would capitulate, then surely most of the other kami would was well.  The two kami came down to where Ohokuninushi was waiting and sat upon the points of their swords.  They told him that the High God of Heaven wished for his grandson to rule the land of the Reed Plain, and asked if he will quietly retire from the land.

Ohokuninushi could see that they had come prepared for a fight if necessary, but before he could answer, he first needed to ask counsel of his son, Kotoshiro Nushi.  Apparently, though Ohokuninushi was the Great Land Master, he still needed some consensus on what to do.  But Kotoshironushi was off hunting and fishing on the other side of the Shimane Peninsula, so the deities tracked him down and confronted him.

As soon as Kotoshironushi heard the request, he dictated a message for his father, that they should withdraw and cede authority to Ninigi no Mikoto.  Then he built a fishing weir of green branches and “withdrew” himself, which some take to mean he died, and others assume he simply left, as had Susanowo and Sukuna Bikona.

When Ohokuninushi heard that his son had withdrawn, he agrees to withdraw as well.  He hands over the spear he had used to pacify the land and gives up his authority.   For his compliance, he is given a palace, or more properly a shrine, and he is provided all the comfort he could desire.  Meanwhile, Futsunushi and Takemikazuchi go on to subdue all the other spirits who do not immediately follow in Ohokuninushi’s example.

There are a few variations of this story in the Chronicles.  In one story, Ohokuninushi initially refuses, and it is the promise of the shrine which really sways him over.  In others, he has two sons: Kotoshiro Nushi, who advises capitulation, and Takaminakata, who resists and is subdued.  Regardless, it is this capitulation by Ohokuninushi—the ceding of the land—that is important as that is what provides the authority for the royal lineage of Yamato to rule the entire archipelago.  Which goes back to why it is important that Ohokuninushi is represented as the Master of all the lands—not just Izumo.

Of course, this whole incident likely is a highly sanitized version of what actually happened.  From the Wei Chronicles we know that there was a period of turmoil before most of the Wa states came under the sway of a single ruler—and even then it appears that authority largely derived from a coalition of various other elites on the archipelago.  It is unlikely that the various chieftains just acquiesced to the Yamato rulers without some form of coercion, but this story is certainly better from Yamato’s perspective.

The Izumo Fudoki, though, puts a different spin on this whole episode.  For one thing, there Futsunushi—or at least Waka Futsunushi, the Young Futsunushi— who, as we mentioned above, is said to be a son or at least a descendant of Ohonamuchi.  Furthermore, Ohokuninushi doesn’t just give up his territory—in fact he gives up the rest of the archipelago, but retains authority over Izumo.  In a subordinate position, mind you, but still in charge.  This is a position that would be reinforced during each imperial ascension, when the Izumo representative would provide a traditional speech emphasizing the rights of Izumo and asserting their special status.

And you may recall that the position of Izumo no Kuni no Miyatsuko was retained in Izumo, even as it was abolished in the other provinces, and much of the special quality of the Izumo Fudoki comes from the fact that it was compiled by members of the Izumo no Omi—the old ruling family of Izumo that still occupied many positions of authority in the governance of the province.  Meanwhile, the evidence suggests that other provinces were overseen by administrators sent out from the court, who would have had a much less personal connection to the land and its history.

On top of all this, the “palace” that was built to house the spirit of Ohokuninushi in his retirement also says something.  This was the Grand Shrine at Kizuki, known colloquially as Izumo Taisha up until the Meiji period, when that became its official name.  It is said that it was based on the palace of Kami Musubi, the Grand Ame no Hisumi Palace, with high and massive pillars and thick, broad planks.

And the size is no joke.  An old pre-Edo book on arithmetic uses the Grand Shrine of Izumo as an example talking about various heights—the Grand Shrine of Izumo was taller than the Daibutsu Hall of Todaiji, in Nara, and both of those were taller than the Imperial Palace at Heain-kyo.  For reference as to its height, Todaiji’s Daibutsu Hall is currently about 48 meters—or 157 feet—tall.  So imagine that—the Izumo shrine was even taller, in its heyday.  That is certainly impressive, and would have been one of the most remarkable structures of its day. 

Today, the shrine is no longer that tall—when it was destroyed and rebuilt in the Edo period it was rebuilt lower to the ground, similar to most other shrines, though they retained some of the key architectural features that are peculiar to Izumo Shrine.  However, archaeological work on the shrine grounds have found massive sets of pillars made from what appears to be three thick tree trunks bound together.   I’ll have photos on the blog page from Izumo showing the relative footprint of this ancient structure and what it looked like, but based on artwork and the remaining evidence suggests it was a shrine building high up above any other building, with a long, straight staircase that would have been a bear to climb.

So just what does it all mean?  What was going on in Izumo?  Today, Izumo is hardly an economic powerhouse, and though it is a wonderful place to visit, it hardly has the tourism of other places in Japan.  But clearly, back in the day, it was quite the player.

So next episode, we’ll take a break from the Kiki – the official mythohistory - and take a look at the archaeology of these stories we’ve been discussing, particularly the archaeology of Izumo and its associated areas.  We’ll see what other puzzle pieces we might be able to find, lurking in the couch cushions, and see if we can clear up this picture a little bit more.

Until then, thank you for all of your support.  If you like what we are doing, tell your friends and feel free to rate us on iTunes, Spotify, or wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, we have information about how you can donate through our KoFi site over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have a few photos and some more discussion on this episode.  Questions or comments?  Feel free to Tweet at us at @SengokuPodcast, or reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.

That’s all for now.  Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.