The Spirit Drum Read online

  The Spirit Drum

  Kyusaku Yumeno

  Translated by J. D. Wisgo

  The Spirit Drum

  Translated from the Japanese story “あやかしの鼓” by Kyusaku Yumeno (夢野久作), as listed on Aozora Bunko.

  All English text copyright © 2019 by J. D. Wisgo.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For information, comments, or questions regarding this book, please see:

  http://www.selftaughtjapanese.com/book-kyusakuyumeno-book1

  You may also contact the translator/publisher via email at:

  [email protected]

  Cover Design: J. D. Wisgo (with the help of Canva)

  Cover Image: “Portrait of a Lady“ by Okada Saburosuke (in the public domain).

  First Edition: December 2019

  Table of Contents

  Translator’s Introduction

  A Brief Introduction to Noh Theater

  The Spirit Drum

  Acknowledgments

  Other Works

  Translator’s Introduction

  Kyusaku Yumeno, originally Yasumichi Sugiyama, was a Japanese author born in 1889 who wrote in a variety of genres: surreal, SF, horror, mystery, poetry, essays, and even children’s stories. He was most well known for Dogra Magra, an epic novel about a man who wakes up in an insane asylum one day with no memory, a work that was strongly influenced by Freud’s research into psychoanalysis. Unfortunately, this book has not yet been translated into English, nor have the majority of Kyusaku’s other works.

  While I’ll admit having an interest in translating Dogra Magra, for several reasons (including its length) I decided to not attempt it yet. After doing a survey of Yumeno’s works I came across the novella “The Spirit Drum” (sometimes referred to as “Apparitional Hand Drum” or “The Eerie Hand Drum”), his first story that earned him significant popularity after being published in the literary magazine Shinseinen in 1926. I was drawn to this work on several levels––its unique storytelling, its connection to the ancient art form of Noh, and its vivid depiction of early 20th century Japan. But above all, I was attracted by its mysterious, surreal atmosphere, a good fit for an author whose pen name means “the eccentric dreamer”.

  To fully appreciate this story requires a little background knowledge about Noh theater, so I’ve prepared a brief summary of it following this. (For those eager to start the story, however, feel free to skip that section now; you can circle back around later if you like.)

  I sincerely hope you enjoy the dark and mysterious world Kyusaku Yumeno presents us in “The Spirit Drum”.

  — J. D. Wisgo

  A Brief Introduction to Noh Theater

  Noh, written using the character 能 (meaning “ability”), is a style of classical Japanese theater that combines elements of drama, dance, and music. What is considered Noh theater today was established around 600 years ago in the 14th century, although some of its fundamental elements are over 1000 years old. Noh is sometimes compared to the works of Shakespeare, but it should be noted that Shakespeare was active nearly 200 years later, in the late 16th century. Noh is said to be the oldest major form of theater that is still performed frequently in modern times.

  Though now regarded as a form of entertainment, Noh plays were originally performed at religious ceremonies and have evolved from various art forms including India ink painting, Zen Buddhism, and ancient dances that served as dedications to the gods. Noh is heavily story-driven and often focuses on dramatic plots of obsession, vengeance, or romance. Despite the religious origins of Noh, only a relatively small fraction of Noh works contain a god as a character.

  Music is an integral part of Noh theater, with performances usually employing an ensemble cast of four instruments: flute (fue), stick drum (taiko), hip drum (ōtsuzumi), and hand drum or shoulder drum (kotsuzumi).

  The actors and musicians wear ornate uniforms, but the stage itself is relatively simple, the actors’ movements are often slow, and the lines are spoken in a monotone voice that can be difficult to understand by everyday people. Some characters wear masks, called nohmen, which are usually expressionless and hide the actors’ facial expressions. Perhaps because of these characteristics, Noh can be seen as difficult to understand and has a high barrier to entry. However, it is said that the power of Noh comes from this simplicity, which allows the audience to use their imagination to fill in the details. Noh theater is considered as an important Japanese cultural tradition, and in 2008 was declared by UNESCO as a masterpiece of intangible heritage of humanity.

  The internet contains many resources about Noh theater, and http://www.the-noh.com/ is one excellent site with rich content, including PDF files that summarize a selection of Noh plays in modern English and Japanese. While you can find Noh plays on places like YouTube, this unique performance art must be experienced in person to truly appreciate its atmosphere. In addition to those performed in Japan, you can find other Noh theater performances throughout the world.

  Okina (翁), a word that means “old man”, is the name of an ancient piece that is thought to be older than Noh itself, and unlike typical Noh works it is not story-based. Instead, it is composed of a series of sacred rites with a unique mysterious atmosphere. The lines are written in a classical form of Japanese, and several of the key phrases, such as the repeated “To-totarari” are not well understood to this day.

  Kyusaku Yumeno, the author of “The Spirit Drum”, was heavily involved in Noh theater from a young age, and has written passionately about this traditional art. In his essay Nohgirai (“Noh-dislike”) he addresses public criticism of Noh theater by stating that the popularity of other art forms over Noh is actually due to their lower artistic value, resulting in better accessibility to the public, whereas on the other hand 99% of society dislikes or does not understand Noh theater. Yumeno himself admitted it was difficult to describe what attracted him to Noh, but said that when people actually try to learn about Noh themselves they often become great enthusiasts, even those that previously had a strong objection.

  The Spirit Drum

  I’m delighted. At last, the time has come when I can speak about the origin of Ayakashi No Tsuzumi, “The Spirit Drum”.

  It is said that the name “ayakashi” was taken from a distortion of the word “akagashi”, meaning “red oak” and referring to the fact that the drum’s barrel was made from a red oak tree with an intricate wood grain as opposed to the usual sakura or azalea tree. But the name is also a nod to the fact that the word “ayakashi” is used in traditional Noh theater to mean “ghost”.

  This drum is indeed the ghost of drums. Even though both the drum’s head and barrel appear to be quite new, it is rumored that the drum was actually made one hundred years ago, and if you try to place it upon your shoulder and play it, instead of the bright sound of a typical drum you’ll hear a dull, gloomy thuh.

  Judging from what I know, this drum’s sound has cursed the lives of at least six or seven people. Furthermore, four of them were born in the Taisho era [1912-1926]. Each person’s death was hastened by the sound of this drum.

  But in the modern age, surely it is difficult to believe in such a story. During a recent investigation into the unusual deaths of three of these cursed individuals, it was only natural for me, Kyuya Otomaru, to be identified as the culprit.
After all, I’m the only surviving one of the group…

  I have a request. I don’t care who, but after I die I’d like someone to let the world know about this final note of mine. You will probably be laughed at by those learned in modern teachings. But still…

  I am certain that anyone who understands how tightly the sound of a musical instrument can seize the human heart will believe what I have to say.

  As I think about this, I am overcome with emotion.

  In Kyoto, one hundred years ago, there was a man named Kuno Otomaru.

  The illegitimate child of a certain woman of high standing, by nature he loved playing with hand drums and from an early age enjoyed ordering various skins at the leather shop and hunting for different types of wood at the lumber dealer, which he used to make hand drums. This invoked displeasure from his parents, and scorn from society, but he paid no mind to any of it. Later, after taking a wife from a merchant family, he finally turned drum-making into a proper occupation and began to attend to the needs of wealthy customers, changing his last name to Otomaru, a suitable name for a drum maker [which derives from the words for “sound” and “round”].

  One of Kuno’s customers was the noble family Imaoji, whose beautiful daughter Ayahime was proficient in the hand drum. Owing to her mischievous nature, this noblewoman was rumored to have been involved with an assortment of men, and at that time already had several illegitimate children. However, despite possessing a wife and a child of his own, after developing a fondness for this daughter one day he began to make approaches to her in secret under the pretense of selling hand drums.

  Ayahime responded favorably to Kuno’s advances. Yet it seemed to be merely a short-lived diversion to her, and she soon became engaged to a certain Kyou Tsuruhara from a similarly high-class family, who was also said to be proficient in the hand drum.

  Upon hearing this, Kuno spoke not a word. But at the wedding, Kuno presented Ayahime with a hand drum he had made himself, asking her to kindly receive his gift.

  This was the item that would later become known as “The Spirit Drum”.

  It was also then that certain unfortunate incidents began to occur in the Tsuruhara family.

  After getting married into the Tsuruhara family, Ayahime brought out the hand drum and began to play it, but everyone was surprised by the unusual tone it produced––a terribly dismal, yet softly beautiful sound.

  Later, Ayahime developed the odd tendency to shut herself in her room and play this hand drum, all day and all night. Then one day she took her own life without reason and departed this world. Shortly after, Kyou Tsuruhara’s health declined––though unclear if caused by anguish over his loss––and several years later, on the way home after an envoy mission to the Kanto region, he vomited blood and passed away in the city of Hamamatsu. Perhaps his illness was what they now call tuberculosis, or something similar. He was said to have been succeeded by his younger brother.

  But even Kuno, the creator of the drum, did not end up unscathed. Deeply regretting his gift of the drum, one day Kuno snuck into the Tsuruhara residence with the intention to steal it back, but he was regrettably discovered by a young samurai by the name of Sakon being employed at the time, and his shoulder was sliced by the samurai’s blade. Kuno breathed his last breath shortly after escaping and arriving home. These were the words spoken in his final moments:

  “Into that drum I have channeled my feelings of utter emptiness after being forsaken by that woman. That’s why its tone differs considerably from a normal drum created to make a cheerful sound. It was my intention to make others play this drum and sympathize with my lifeless existence. But I never bore even an inkling of resentment. As proof, look at the drum’s barrel; it is made with an ancient red oak with an intricately-patterned wood grain from the so-called “precious tree”, which in all Japan yields only to my chisel. Moreover, I have adorned the hand drum with a gold lacquer containing auspicious symbols. Because even the court nobles were impoverished, I prayed that at least the family she had married into would fare well. I never imagined, even in my wildest dreams, that such a terrible thing would happen. Anyone will do––but please, someone must honor these last words of mine and recover that hand drum. Then smash it to pieces so it will never cause harm again. Please, I beg this of you.”

  This was Kuno’s last request, but no one ever went to recover the hand drum from the Tsuruhara family. On the contrary, because of Kuno Tsuruhara’s unusual death, the body was buried in strict secrecy.

  But rumors of his last request soon spread far and wide, and sure enough, even the Tsuruhara family caught wind of it. The Tsuruhara family kept the hand drum in a custom-made box and stored it in a thickly walled storeroom, careful to leave it untouched even when cleaning. At the same time, the instrument somehow earned the nickname “The Spirit Drum”, and unusual things began to happen even though the box had remained closed…but in exchange, the family that possessed this drum became wealthy––or so the legend went. While unclear if caused by the drum, for no specific reason the condition of the Tsuruhara family gradually began to improve, and after the Meiji restoration the head of the family was even given the honorable rank of viscount. At the start of the Taisho era they left Kyoto and constructed an extensive residence in Higashinakano.

  On the other hand, Ayahime’s family Imaoji was not nearly as fortunate. After Ayahime married into the Tsuruhara family her lineage was on the verge of becoming extinct, but a search began for one of her illegitimate children while keeping up appearances to the public, and in the end it seems a proper heir was finally established. Nevertheless, afterward the family gradually fell into ruin, and no one seems to know what happened to them after the Meiji restoration.

  In this way, two families were affected by The Spirit Drum––one rising to prosperity, one falling to decay––while Kuno Otomaru was succeeded by his son Kyuhaku and his grandson Kyui, who managed to make a living by playing the hand drum. However, neither of them took Kuno’s last request seriously and attempted to recover The Spirit Drum from the Tsuruhara family.

  Kuno’s grandfather, Kyui, is my father.

  My father worked doing jobs like a hand drum repairman and dealer since the time he lived in Kyoto. However, despite being apparently proficient in such handiwork he had difficulty attracting customers, and had lost contact with his firstborn son Kyuroku after sending him to live in another household at the age of six. But a hand drum master living in the Kudan region of Tokyo, Yakuro Hayabayashi, was unable to bear seeing this and summoned the son to Tokyo where he rented a small house for him near Tsukudohachiman, Ushigome. With this, his father finally obtained peace of mind.

  But in 1904, after my mother died while giving birth to me, for some reason my father began to grow indolent, spending most of his time reading borrowed books. Then, in the summer of 1915, he was afflicted with spinal disease and, after I cared for him for nearly three years, passed away from pneumonia in the fall of 1917. At that time he was 55.

  But something happened shortly before his death.

  After looking it over I started reading Kinsesetsu Bishonenroku out loud to my father, a mystery novel I had borrowed from an old master in Kudan. But my father immediately interrupted me, speaking in fragmented sentences.

  “Hold on, son. Today I’ll tell you an interesting story.” He began speaking about the origin of The Spirit Drum. It was the very first time I had heard of such a thing.

  “However…” continued my father after taking a sip of water.

  “…to tell you the truth, like the others I never took this story seriously. Such convoluted tales are common with famous craftsmen…so even when I visited Tokyo I never searched for where the Tsuruhara family was, nor did I pay any mind to it.

  “Three years ago in the spring, one day when I was out sweeping the facade a young, beautiful 20-year-old woman by the name of Haikara stopped by and asked me to adjust her drum, showing me a hand drum with a pretty-looking head and barrel. When I casually t
ook the item from her I was shocked––the barrel was decorated with auspicious symbols and the wood an attractive red oak. I knew it must be The Spirit Drum that I had heard about. This is how Haikara introduced herself:

  “ ‘I am from the Tsuruhara family of Nakano and desire to study under Mr. Hayabashi of Kudan. I found this hand drum at home and attempted to play it, but no matter what I try I am unable to produce a good sound. Tradition says this is a drum of superb quality, hence I feel it should produce a proper sound.’

  “ ‘Oh really, What sort of tradition would that be…’ I tried asking, already knowing the answer myself. But it seemed she was not very knowledgeable, perhaps because she was only recently married into the Tsuruhara family.

  “But when she said a word that sounded a little like the drum’s name, I knew this was in fact The Spirit Drum.

  “I decided to take possession of the drum for the time being and send the pretty woman home. Then I placed the drum on my shoulder and tried playing it…when a terrible shiver ran through me. This was no ordinary hand drum. My grandfather Kuno’s final words had been genuine. I realized that the Tsuruhara family curse was real.

  “Having said that, there was no way that the Tsuruhara family was going to sell me the drum, and no matter how much I thought about it I wasn’t able to come up with a way to take ownership of the drum. Thus, the next day I took the drum to the Tsuruhara family residence in Nakano and met with the wife, telling her a lie.

  “ ‘This hand drum does not seem to be of any use to you. To begin with, because it has been stored away for a long time without being played the drum head has gone bad. Even the barrel, while seemingly very well-built, was made from oak and therefore will not reverberate well. I believe this item was most likely used long ago as an ornamental prop for marriage ceremonies…as evidenced by the minimal wear…and the presence of many auspicious symbols…’