The Nue is a vague and volatile sort of being, elusive and difficult to pin down with any specificity. Because of the extreme danger in closely approaching this yokai, it remains unknown whether the differing appearances represent one or multiple “species” of creature. Some theories hold that the bizarre appearance of the otherworldly Nue is actually a type of optical illusion. The human mind is unable to assimilate the true form and nature of the beast, resulting in a visual patchwork of different animals as the brain attempts to come to terms with what, exactly, it is seeing. If this is the case, its true form must be even stranger than we can imagine.
A great many sightings of the beast have been reported over the years. Morihiko Fujisawa’s A Collection of Japanese Folklore lists no fewer than eleven appearances between 905 and 1774. The most notorious occurred in the spring of 1153, when a strange black cloud appeared over the Imperial Palace night after night, disturbing then-Emperor Konoe’s sleep with constant and terrible nightmares, slowly but surely sapping his health. Eventually, an exasperated royal retainer fired an arrow into the heart of the cloud, causing a mortally wounded Nue to drop from the sky.
Utagawa Kuniyoshi’s 1852 depiction of the Nue.
The Attack!
Close encounters are extremely dangerous. Although it is theoretically capable of causing serious injury via tooth, poison fang, or claw, the real threat isn’t physical violence but rather the Nue’s ability to induce illness in those who come into close or repeated contact with it. It is unknown whether the creature actively intends humans harm or if sickness is a mere side effect of the human mind attempting to reconcile the Nue’s strange quintessence and physiognomy. Whatever the case, there is no question that any sort of contact with the creature is hazardous to your health.
Fortunately, the vast majority of Nue encounters occur at a distance, “attacks” taking the form of an unsettling, bird-like cry that scares the daylights out of people. Like most yokai, it generally appears at night, making it even more difficult to make sense of the Nue’s already confusing forms. Even at some remove, repeated contact can drive victims over the brink into illness, as was the case with Emperor Konoe.
NUE NAMING:
The Asian Thrush (Zoothera dauma), currently known as toratsugumi in Japanese, was long ago known as the Nue. Its call was said to resemble that of a mysterious and as-yet unnamed yokai then plaguing the countryside. Over the generations, the yokai came to be known as “Nue” rather than the bird.
Surviving an Encounter:
1) Follow weather reports to track storm clouds.
2) Brush up on your skills with the bow and arrow.
3) Invest in a pair of earplugs.
4) Look an the bright side and consider yourself fortunate: sightings of this strange and dangerous creature are extraordinarily uncommon in the modern age.
Yokai Party:
Japan is a nation of festivals, and more than a few of them are related to the Nue. For example, every January 28th a festival intended to keep the creature at bay is held in Shizuoka Prefecture, roughly one hour south of Tokyo by bullet train. It is called the Nue-barai Matsuri, or “Nue Exorcism Festival.”
A stuffed Nue on display in Nagoaka, Shizuoka Prefecture
Ferocious Fiends: 008
Funa-yurei
Ferocious Fiends: 008
Funa-yurei
舟幽霊
Pronunciation:
(FOO-nah YOO-ray)
English Name:
Literally, “Ship-Ghouls”;
Sea Phantoms,
Marine Spirits
Alternate Japanese Names:
Hiki-funandama, Obako, Yobashiri, etc.
Gender:
Male
Height:
Average adult male height
Weight:
Unknown
Locomotion:
Floating, swimming
Distinctive Features:
Skeletal humanoids
Offensive Weapons:
A fisherman’s ladle
Abundance:
Prevalent
Habitat:
Coastal waters, lakes, rivers
Claim to Fame:
The Funa-yurei are the lonely, restless souls of those who have drowned at sea. They rise from the depths as the sun sets, banding together in small groups to seek out and sink the boats of living fishermen and travelers. They are common in coastal waters throughout Japan; in land-locked areas, they are known to prowl lakes and rivers.
According to one tale, the Funa-yurei simply want others to share their sad fate. In other tales it is said that the individual souls cannot leave their phantom boat until they find a living victim to replace them.
They can appear in a range of forms, from fairly healthy-looking individuals to skeletal humanoids clad in tattered and waterlogged clothing, their flesh picked clean by aquatic creatures. From this it could be theorized that the length of time since death affects their outward appearances. In nearly all cases their heads are crowned with white triangular headdresses of the sort used in Buddhist funeral rituals to prepare corpses for their journey to the underworld.
The Attack!
Funa-yurei always appear at twilight or in the predawn hours, often in reduced-visibility conditions such as stormy or foggy weather. Encounters follow a predictable pattern. You are bobbing along in your fishing boat when you notice a faint light approaching you. These lights are often (but not exclusively) accompanied by a steady, rhythmic drumming, creating a processional atmosphere. As the light moves closer, you realize that it’s attached to a small fishing skiff with several individuals aboard. It pulls alongside and something seems amiss. In a ghostly voice, one of the “men” intones, “Ladle. Give me your ladle.”
Do not be fooled by outward appearances. While some Funa-yurei look like reanimated corpses, the recently deceased may look surprisingly like normal humans. The key is to watch the headgear. If the inquisitor is wearing a triangular funeral headdress, you are up the proverbial creek without a paddle: damned if you do, damned if you don’t. Hand over the requested ladle and the Funa-yurei will use it to scoop a tremendous quantity of water into your boat, scuttling it. Refuse—or simply happen to not have a ladle on hand—and they will capsize your vessel in fury. In either case you’re going on a one-way trip to the Japanese equivalent of Davy Jones’ Locker.
Funa-yurei are known to exploit the use of lighthouses (or signal fires in the old days) by generating false lights to confuse and lure fishing vessels farther out to sea. Seasoned navigators know to keep careful watch: the position of human-generated lights remains fixed, but the phantom glow of a Funa-yurei tends to flicker, bob, and weave.
A 19th-century print showing the Funa-yurei in action. Note the ladle.
WEATHER WATCH:
Funa-yurei appearances