Was a young woman buried alive inside the wall of Matsue castle long ago?

One of the most famous tales of construction-related human sacrifice is associated with Matsue castle (Shimane prefecture), which was originally built in the 17th century. According to local legend, the stone wall of the central tower collapsed on multiple occasions during construction. Convinced that a human pillar would stabilize the structure, the builders decided to look for a suitable person at the local Bon festival. From the crowd, they selected a beautiful young maiden who demonstrated superb Bon dancing skills. After whisking her away from the festival and sealing her in the wall, the builders were able to complete the castle without incident.

However, the maiden’s restless spirit came to haunt the castle after it was completed. According to folklorist Lafcadio Hearn, who described the castle’s curse in his 1894 work “Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan,” the entire structure would shake anytime a girl danced in the streets of Matsue, so a law had to be passed to prohibit public dancing.

Although there is no conclusive evidence indicating that construction-related human sacrifice was actually practiced in Japan, it has been suggested that some laborers may, on occasion, have been terminated as a security measure after working on castles. Doing so would have prevented knowledge of a castle’s secrets and weaknesses from falling into enemy hands.

Other notable structures rumored to make use of human pillars include:

- Gujo-Hachiman castle (Gifu prefecture)
- Nagahama castle (Shiga prefecture)
- Maruoka castle (Fukui prefecture)
- Ozu castle (Ehime prefecture)
- Komine castle (Fukushima prefecture)
- Itsukushima shrine (Hiroshima prefecture)
- Fukushima bridge (Tokushima prefecture)
- Kintaikyou bridge (Yamaguchi prefecture)
- Hattori-Oike reservoir (Hiroshima prefecture)
- Imogawa irrigation channel (Nagano prefecture)
- Karigane embankment (Shizuoka prefecture)
- Manda levee (Osaka prefecture)

Modern-day versions of these old legends can also be found on Japan’s northern island of Hokkaido. Human bones have been found around several bridges and tunnels, lending an air of credibility to rumors that workers were sacrificed during construction.

Monument erected after skeletons were found sealed in the walls of Jomon tunnel

Jomon tunnel, constructed on the Sekihoku Main Line (JR Hokkaido) in 1914, is notorious for rumors of human sacrifice. In 1968, the tunnel underwent repairs after a major earthquake damaged part of the wall inside. While doing the renovations, workers found a number of human skeletons, standing upright, sealed inside the walls. A large quantity of human bones were also unearthed near the tunnel. The discovery fueled beliefs that the tunnel was constructed with human pillars, and many people — including train conductors — came to fear that the tunnel was haunted by the ghosts of the victims.

Some theories suggest that brutal working conditions and poor nutrition led many workers — mainly criminals and debtors working against their will — to contract beri beri, a deadly nervous system ailment. With no access to medicine, these victims are believed to have been buried alive near the construction site. A monument honoring the fallen workers was erected in 1980.

Were people sealed inside the concrete supports of Koshikawa bridge?

People are also rumored to have been sealed inside the concrete supports of Koshikawa bridge, on the now-defunct Konboku line (also in Hokkaido). While no actual human skeletons have been found, recent surveys have revealed the possible existence of hollow spaces in the structure that may contain human remains. Records indicate that at least 11 indentured workers may have died building the bridge, which was completed in 1939.

[Note: This is the latest in a series of weekly posts on Japanese urban legends.]

The 1970 World’s Fair — a.k.a. Expo ‘70 — opened in Osaka 40 years ago this week. A total of 77 countries attended the event and the number of visitors surpassed 64 million people, making it one of the largest and best attended expositions in history. This was the first World’s Fair to be held in Japan, a nation that had experienced an extremely rapid period of development in the 1960s. The theme of the Expo was “Progress and Harmony for Mankind,” and the aim was to showcase the possibilities of modern technology to create a foundation for a high quality of life and peace throughout the world. Here are some photos and videos from the event.

Tower of the Sun [petespix75]

Toshibia-IHI Pavilion [m-louis]

Expo Tower [Anton Rauben Weiss]

Switzerland Pavilion [m-louis]

Netherlands Pavilion [nyclondonguy]

Gamera vs. Monster X (battle at the Expo)

Japan Telecommunications Pavilion // Sumitomo Fairy Tale Pavilion [Anton Rauben Weiss]

Bulgaria Pavilion [Dimiter Dimitrov]

Gas Pavilion [rbdx]

Italy Pavilion [nyclondonguy]

Fountain designed by Isamu Noguchi [petespix75]

Robots [rbdx] // [rbdx]

[Antropik ★ Expo 70]

Barbie goes to Expo ‘70 [eizzily]

Takara Beautilion Pavilion [Anton Rauben Weiss]

US Pavilion [More]

Furukawa Pavilion [m-louis]

USSR Pavilion [petespix75]

Korea Pavilion // Takara Beautilion Pavilion [m-louis]

Expo ‘70 sign on Osaka street [Thomas Abercrombie via a girl named Steve]

Wacoal-Riccar Pavilion [rbdx]

Expo ropeway [Anton Rauben Weiss]

Expo ‘70 scenery [petespix75]

Furukawa Pavilion [nyclondonguy]

Brochures for USSR and Belgium [More]

West Germany Pavilion [Stockhausen]

Textiles Pavilion [m-louis]

The Tower of the Sun [m-louis]

Netherlands Pavilion [petespix75]

Expo ‘70 monorail [petespix75]

[Expo '70 Osaka]

Fountains by Isamu Noguchi [Anton Rauben Weiss]

Aerial view of Green Pavilion [Stellavista]

On Sundays, it would seem, even superheroes like to spend some time partaking in a spot of playfulness in the park.

Either that, or it’s what could well be deemed a way overdue weekend workout.

Japanese superheroes on Sundays

Originally from Tokyo Times

It’s difficult to know whether the owners of this restaurant were looking to recreate some sort of roman-esque banquet space, or the lounging noodle lover is a nod to something I simply know nothing about, but either way, as far as promotional pictures go, it’s arguably not particularly appealing.

Nero-esque noodles?

Originally from Tokyo Times

+ Video

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“Can We Blast Japan from Below?” (January 1944) is an article by an eminent geologist who proposes bombing Japan’s volcanoes as a strategy for winning the war.

Given Japan’s seismic instability and the explosive nature of volcanoes, dropping bombs into volcanic craters might, in the words of the author, “cause such a vomiting of lava and ash as to hasten the day of unconditional surrender.”

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“Japanese Home Life” (May 1893) examines daily domestic routines, including the telling of ghost stories around the fireplace at night. The article includes a spooky tale about shape-shifting badgers.

* * * * *

The January 1971 issue includes a short article about a “Wankel/electric hybrid concept car from Japan,” an environmentally-friendly urban transport vehicle that resembles a helicopter cockpit.

* * * * *

“Upside-down Skyscrapers Proposed in Japan” (January 1929) describes a proposal to build an 80-floor subterranean building that descends 1,100 feet below ground. The envisioned structure — dreamed up by architects seeking earthquake-proof designs after the Great Kanto Earthquake of 1923 — would include electric lights, telephones and high-speed elevators, and would cost an estimated $11 million to complete.

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“Nasty Job This — Cleaning Customers’ Ears” (October 1917) takes a brief look at what used to be a common service provided by Japanese barbers.

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“Odd Rules Hamper Our Cars Abroad” (October 1930) examines some of the peculiar difficulties that American automakers faced when trying to sell cars abroad. In Japan, for example, the law used to forbid private citizens from owning maroon-colored cars — this color was reserved for the royal family. Yellow cabs also proved to be unpopular because, according to the article, the color is associated with mourning. Japanese laws also required tail-light switches to be located at the rear of the vehicle, and special mudflaps had to be attached whenever it began to rain (to prevent pedestrians from being splashed). Taxis also had to be outfitted with two horns — an electric horn and and a bulb horn — and it was customary for each taxi driver to employ an assistant whose primary duty was to operate the auxiliary horn as they sped through the streets.

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“Strange Medicines” (October 1887) discusses the spread of Western medicine through Japan. The author explores the back streets of Osaka in search of traditional medicine and explains, among other things, the old-school trade of kuroyaki (charred animals).

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“Japan’s Greeting to the New Year,” (May 1921) briefly describes a Japanese New Year practice where children put on fantastic masks made of paper.

According to the article, the symbolic masks often represent traditional figures and “have a special meaning, other than just being grotesque.”

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“Animal and Plant Lore” (July 1891) examines the use of human saliva in various forms of folk medicine from around the world. The article presents a Japanese folk remedy for curing the numbness in the lower extremities that inevitably occurs when sitting too long with legs folded in the traditional formal style. To restore feeling in your legs, you should wet a piece of straw with saliva, stick it to your forehead, and chant “shibire kyo e agare” — lit. “numbness, go up to Kyo (Kyoto).”

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The February 1964 issue includes a long and wordy advertisement for a $1.98 booklet that teaches the secret art of Yubiwaza, an easy-to-master self-defense technique that turns one’s finger into a powerful weapon.

According to the ad, Yubiwaza is an “effective means of defense against hoodlums, bullies, wise guys and juvenile delinquents who respect neither lives nor property.”

[More: Popular Science articles on Japan]

The head that refused to die

The head — supposedly buried in the Otemachi district — belongs to Taira no Masakado, a rebellious warrior who led an insurgency against the central government in the 10th century. At the height of his power, Masakado proclaimed himself emperor — an act that aroused the wrath of the government and ended in his decapitation. The samurai failed to become ruler of Japan, but his severed head has remained a persistent source of trouble for over 1,000 years.

Here is a brief history of the head.

903 – 940 AD: Taira no Masakado was born and raised in eastern Japan. After leading a minor rebellion and assuming control of eight provinces in northern Kanto, Masakado declared himself the new emperor of Japan. The established emperor, based in Kyoto, responded by putting a bounty on his head. Two months later, Masakado was killed in battle. His decapitated head was transported to Kyoto and put on public display as a warning to other would-be rebels.

Masakado’s head on display in Kyoto

Strangely, Masakado’s head did not decompose. Three months later, it still looked fresh and alive, though the eyes had grown more fierce and the mouth had twisted into a horrifying grimace. One night, the head began to glow, and it lifted into the air and flew off in the direction of Taira no Masakado’s hometown.

The head grew weary on the long flight home, and it came to rest in the village of Shibasaki (present-day Otemachi, Tokyo). The villagers picked up the head, cleaned it, and buried it in a mound at Kanda Myojin shrine.

950: Ten years after the head was laid to rest, the burial mound began to glow and shake violently, and the ghost of a bedraggled samurai started to make regular appearances in the neighborhood. The frightened locals offered special prayers that seemed to put the spirit to rest.

1200~: At the beginning of the 13th century, a temple belonging to the powerful Tendai Buddhist sect was built adjacent to Kanda Myojin shrine. This apparently upset the spirit of Masakado, and the people in the area were stricken by plague and natural calamities as a consequence.

1307: Nearly a century later, a priest from an Amida Buddhist sect — which took a more liberal, accessible approach to Buddhism than the Tendai sect — built an invocation hall here and tended the shrine of Masakado, thus easing the spirit’s anger.

Over time, Taira no Masakado came to be regarded as a deity in east Japan

1616: Kanda Myojin shrine, which had elevated Masakado to deity status, was moved to a new site to make room for the mansions of the feudal lords stationed in Edo. The burial mound and headstone were left behind in the garden of one of the mansions.

1869: After the fall of the feudal system, the Meiji government constructed their Finance Ministry building next to the burial site. The mound and headstone were left untouched.

1874: The government issued a formal declaration condemning Masakado as having been an “enemy of the emperor.” His deity status at Kanda Myojin shrine was revoked.

1923: The Great Kanto Earthquake and the ensuing fires all but destroyed the mound and stone monument. The Finance Ministry building burned to the ground. Before rebuilding, the ministry excavated the grave site in search of the skull, but found nothing. They decided to erect a temporary building on the premises.

1926: Building over the burial site turned out to be a terrible decision. Finance minister Seiji Hayami died suddenly of illness, and 13 other ministry officials met similar fates over the next two years. Many workers became ill or were injured in mysterious accidents on the premises. People believed that Taira no Masakado had cursed the new building.

1928: The ministry removed part of the structure covering the burial site and began holding annual purification rituals. At first there was great enthusiasm for the rituals, but interest faded over the years.

Masakado’s head takes to the skies

1940: A fire sparked by lightning burned down the Finance Ministry building and several other government offices in the Otemachi district. The day was remembered as being exactly 1,000 years after the death of Taira no Masakado. The old earthquake-damaged stone monument was rebuilt, and the site was rededicated to the samurai rebel. The Finance Ministry moved, and the land around the burial site became the property of the Tokyo municipal government.

1945: After World War II, US occupation forces seized control of the property and began to clear the land to create a parking lot. Progress was hindered by a series of suspicious accidents. In one accident, a worker died next to the grave when the bulldozer he was driving flipped over. After local officials explained the significance of the burial site to the US forces, they decided to leave part of the parking lot unfinished.

1961: Control of the property was handed back to Japan, and the parking lot was removed. Purification rituals were conducted, and the burial site was once more dedicated to Taira no Masakado. But when new buildings were constructed next to the burial mound, workers again fell ill. A figure with disheveled hair reportedly began to appear in photographs taken in the area. In an attempt to calm the spirit, representatives from local businesses started to pray at the burial site on the 1st and 15th of each month.

The final resting place of Masakado’s head – Google Street View // Google Maps

1984: In response to public pressure following the broadcast of an NHK television drama based on the life of Taira no Masakado, his deity status at Kanda Myojin shrine was reinstated.

1987: A string of freak accidents and injuries occurred during the filming of Teito Monogatari (“Tokyo: The Last Megalopolis”), a historical fantasy whose villain seeks to destroy Tokyo by awakening Masakado’s spirit (watch the movie trailer). To prevent accidents on the set, it is now common practice for TV and movie producers to pay their respects at the burial site before bringing Taira no Masakado to the screen.

In the more than 1,000 years since Masakado’s head fell from the sky, Tokyo has grown into the world’s largest metropolis and the area around the burial site has become the financial center of Japan. But to this day, local business people remain wary of the power of the head in their midst, and the surrounding companies take great pains to keep Masakado’s vengeful spirit in check. Supposedly, no office worker in the vicinity wants to sit with their back toward the burial site, and nobody wants to face it directly.

[Note: This is the latest in a series of weekly posts on Japanese urban legends. Check back next week for more.]

Sofu Teshigahara, One Man Show, 1954 [+]

Nikon, 1954 [+]

Gropius and Bauhaus Exhibition, 1954 [+]

Nikon Mikron Binoculars, 1955 [+]

Graphic ‘55 Exhibition, 1955 [+]

Fuji Photo Contest, 1955 [+]

Atomic Energy for Peaceful Industry, 1956 [+]

Nikon SP, 1957 [+]

Terror and Sorrow! Cancer! 1959 [+]

“Design” Magazine Cover, 1959 [+]

Nikkorex 35, 1960 [+]

Nikkor Lens, 1960 [+]

Poster for 18th Olympic Games, 1961 [+]

Rayon and Synthetic Fibres of Japan, 1961 [+]

Rayon and Synthetic Fibres of Japan, 1962 [+]

Election Poster, 1967 [+]

Japan World Exposition, Osaka, 1967 [+]

Office Design Exhibition, 1970 [+]

Nikomat, 1971 [+]

Tokyo International Design Competition for Lighting Fixtures, 1973 [+]

The 8th Annual Tokyo International Lighting Design Competition, 1977 [+]

The 9th Annual Tokyo International Lighting Design Competition, 1979 [+]

The 10th Tokyo International Lighting Design Competition, 1983 [+]

Hiroshima Appeals, 1983 [+]

[From "The Works of Yusaku Kamekura," Rikuyosha, 1983]

+ Video

After the ad ran, rumors began to circulate about the unfortunate fate of everyone involved. Keiko Matsuzaka, the actress in the commercial, was rumored to have become pregnant with a demon child. Others claim she was institutionalized after suffering a mental breakdown. The young actor who played the red demon is said to have died suddenly under mysterious circumstances. And one by one, the entire production staff either fell ill or suffered unfortunate accidents.

The song in the commercial also gained notoriety. Some viewers thought the lyrics sounded like a German curse, and there were claims that the sound of the music varied according to the time of day. Whenever the commercial aired late at night, the singer’s angelic voice would transform into the raspy voice of an old woman, bringing misfortune to all who heard it.

Needless to say, there is no truth to these claims. The producers simply wanted a dreamy fairy tale look for the commercial, and they chose the song “It’s A Fine Day” (recorded by Jane) for its cheerful message. The commercial failed to get the desired response.

[Note: This is the latest in a series of weekly posts on Japanese urban legends. Check back next week for more.]

[Link: Tokyo/Glow via Tokyomango]