"The Story of Hoichi the Earless" Yakumo Koizumi

More than seven hundred years ago, a great battle took place at Dan-no-ura, a strait in the Shimonoseki region, marking the final conflict between the Heike (Taira clan) and the Genji (Minamoto clan). It was at Dan-no-ura that the Heike met their ultimate defeat, perishing alongside their women, children, and even their young emperor, who is now remembered as Emperor Antoku. For over seven centuries, the sea and shore of Dan-no-ura have been haunted by their restless spirits.

Elsewhere, I have told you about the strange Heike crabs, whose backs bear the shape of human faces and are said to embody the souls of fallen Heike warriors. But many other strange occurrences have been witnessed along this coast. On dark nights, countless ghostly fires are seen drifting along the water’s edge or flickering over the waves—what fishermen call “oni-bi,” or demon fires, pale blue in color. And when the wind rises, the sea echoes with loud cries, as though the clamors of battle still resound from the depths.

In the past, the spirits of the Heike were even more troubled than they are now. They would appear beside boats sailing through the strait and attempt to drag them down, or lie in wait for swimmers, pulling them under the waves. To console these restless souls, a Buddhist temple called Amida-ji was erected at Akama-ga-seki. A graveyard was built nearby, right on the shore, where stone monuments were raised to honor the drowned emperor and his faithful retainers. Buddhist services were regularly held there to soothe their spirits.

Since the temple’s establishment and the creation of the graves, the haunting at Dan-no-ura lessened, but the Heike spirits still occasionally caused mysterious events, showing that they had not yet found complete peace.

Many centuries ago, a blind man named Hoichi lived in Akama-ga-seki. He was famed for his extraordinary skill in reciting and playing the biwa, a traditional Japanese lute. From childhood, Hoichi had trained in both recitation and music, and by the time he was still a youth, he had already surpassed his masters. He became especially renowned as a professional biwa player for his recitations of the tales of the Heike and the Genji. It was said that even demons wept when he sang of the Battle of Dan-no-ura.

Although Hoichi was quite poor when he first set out on his path, he had a generous and devoted friend in the priest of Amida-ji. The priest, who had a great love for poetry and music, often invited Hoichi to the temple to perform. Over time, the priest became deeply impressed by the young man’s incredible talent and eventually invited him to live at the temple. Hoichi, grateful for the offer, gladly accepted. He was given a room at the temple, and in exchange for food and lodging, his only duty was to play the biwa on nights when the priest had no other engagements, delighting his generous host with his music.

One summer night, the priest was called to a memorial service for a deceased parishioner, leaving Hoichi alone at the temple with the attendants. It was a hot night, so Hoichi, in search of some relief, stepped out onto the veranda in front of his room. The veranda overlooked a small garden behind Amida-ji Temple. Hoichi, waiting for the priest’s return, played his biwa to pass the time and ease his solitude. Midnight came and went, but the priest had not yet returned. The air remained stifling, too oppressive to stay inside, so Hoichi lingered outside.

Soon, he heard footsteps approaching from the direction of the back gate. Someone crossed the garden and stopped just in front of him on the veranda, but it was not the priest. A deep, commanding voice called out Hoichi’s name, abruptly and rudely, as though a samurai were summoning a servant.

“Hoichi!”

Startled, Hoichi did not respond at first. The voice called again, this time with a tone of authority.

“Hoichi!”

“Yes!” Hoichi stammered, trembling at the intimidating voice. “I am blind, sir. I do not know who is calling me.”

The stranger’s voice softened slightly. “Do not be afraid. I am a retainer of a nobleman who resides nearby, and I have been sent to deliver a message to you. My lord is a man of high rank, and he is presently staying here in Akama-ga-seki with many distinguished attendants. Today, he visited the battlefield of Dan-no-ura, as he wished to see the famous site. He has heard of your skill in reciting the tales of the war and desires to hear you perform. You must bring your biwa and come with me immediately to the house where my lord awaits.”

At that time, it was unthinkable to disobey a samurai’s order. So, Hoichi put on his straw sandals, took his biwa, and followed the stranger. The man guided him skillfully, though Hoichi had to walk quickly to keep up. The hand that led him felt as strong as iron, and from the clattering sound of armor, Hoichi realized that his guide must be a fully armored warrior, possibly one of the guards at a noble residence. Hoichi’s initial fear faded, and he began to think of the good fortune that might await him. He remembered the man’s words, “a man of high rank,” and concluded that the lord who wished to hear him must be a great daimyo.

Before long, the samurai stopped. Hoichi sensed they had arrived at a grand gate. He was puzzled, for he did not recall any large gates in the area other than the main gate of Amida-ji Temple. “Open the gate!” the samurai commanded. Hoichi heard the sound of a bar being lifted, and the two of them passed through. They crossed a wide garden and stopped again at another entrance. The samurai called out loudly, “Here! I have brought Hoichi!” Footsteps hurried, doors slid open, and the voices of women could be heard. From their words, Hoichi gathered that they were attendants in the service of a noble household, though he could not tell exactly where he had been brought.

There was little time to ponder this, as Hoichi was led up several stone steps. At the top of the last step, he was told to remove his sandals. A woman then took his hand and guided him across polished wooden floors that seemed to stretch endlessly. They turned around what felt like countless pillars and passed over expansive tatami mats. Finally, Hoichi was led to the center of a large room. He sensed that many people were present. The sound of silk garments rustling was like the whisper of leaves in a forest, and a low murmur of voices filled the air—voices speaking in the refined language of the imperial court.

Hoichi was told to relax and realized that a cushion had been placed for him. He sat down and tuned his biwa. A woman’s voice—whom Hoichi assumed to be an older woman, perhaps the head maid in charge of household duties—addressed him:

“It is requested that you play the Tale of the Heike accompanied by your biwa.”

Knowing that reciting the entire story would take several nights, Hoichi asked, “I cannot tell the whole tale in one sitting. Which part would my lord like to hear?”

The woman replied, “Please tell the story of the Battle of Dan-no-ura, as it is the most tragic part.”

Hoichi then raised his voice and began to sing of the fierce sea battle. With his biwa, he produced the sounds of oars rowing, ships advancing, arrows whizzing through the air, shouts of warriors, footsteps, the clash of swords on helmets, and the splashes of those who fell into the sea. As he played, Hoichi could hear whispered words of praise from both sides: “What a masterful biwa player!” “We’ve never heard such a performance in our province!” “There is surely no one in the land who can sing like Hoichi!” Encouraged by these compliments, Hoichi performed even more brilliantly.

The surroundings fell silent, filled with awe. But when he reached the part describing the tragic fate of the women and children—the sorrowful final moments of the noble Lady Nii, who leapt into the sea holding the young emperor in her arms—every listener let out a long, trembling moan of anguish. Then, overcome with emotion, the audience began to sob and wail uncontrollably. Hoichi himself was amazed by the intensity of the grief his performance had stirred.

For a while, the weeping continued. Gradually, however, the cries faded into silence, and in the deep stillness that followed, Hoichi heard the voice of the woman whom he believed to be the head maid.

She said, “We had heard of your reputation as a master of the biwa and an unrivaled singer, but we never imagined you possessed such extraordinary skill as you have shown tonight. My lord is deeply pleased and intends to reward you generously. He has also asked that you perform for him every night for the next six nights. After that, my lord will likely embark on his return journey. Therefore, you must return here tomorrow night at the same hour. The same retainer who escorted you tonight will come to fetch you.

There is one more thing I must tell you. While my lord stays in Akama-ga-seki, you are not to speak of your visits here to anyone. My lord is traveling incognito, and it is his express wish that you tell no one of these events. You are now free to return to your temple.”

Hoichi expressed his gratitude deeply. The woman took his hand and led him to the entrance, where the same retainer who had brought him was waiting. The retainer guided Hoichi back to the veranda of the temple, where they bid farewell and parted ways.

By the time Hoichi returned, it was nearly dawn, but no one had noticed his absence from the temple. The priest had come back quite late and assumed Hoichi was still asleep. During the day, Hoichi managed to get some rest, and he said nothing about the strange events of the previous night. The following night, the samurai came again to fetch Hoichi, leading him to the same noble gathering. Once again, Hoichi recited and performed with the same level of success as before.

However, during this second night’s absence, it was discovered that Hoichi had left the temple. When he returned in the morning, the priest summoned him. Speaking in a gentle but concerned tone, the priest said:

“Hoichi, we were very worried about you. It is dangerous for someone who cannot see to go out alone so late at night. Why did you leave without informing us? If you had told us, I would have had a servant accompany you. Where have you been?”

Hoichi, attempting to evade the question, replied, “Forgive me, Priest. I had some personal matters to attend to, and there was no other time I could deal with them.”

The priest, sensing that something unusual was going on, grew more concerned than angry. It seemed unnatural for Hoichi to keep silent about his whereabouts, and the priest began to worry that the blind man might have fallen under the influence of evil spirits or been deceived. Without pressing Hoichi further, the priest secretly instructed the temple attendants to keep an eye on him. He ordered them to follow Hoichi if he attempted to leave the temple again at night.

The very next night, the attendants saw Hoichi sneaking out of the temple. They quickly lit lanterns and followed him. It was a rainy and pitch-dark night, and before the attendants had even reached the main road, Hoichi had already disappeared. This was strange, considering Hoichi’s blindness, especially since the road was rough and difficult to navigate. The men hurried through the town, asking at places Hoichi might have gone, but no one had seen him. Finally, as they made their way back along the path toward the temple, they heard the sound of a biwa being played in the graveyard of Amida-ji. Shocked, they stopped and listened.

The only lights in the graveyard were a few ghostly fires—dim flickers that were often seen there on dark nights. Nonetheless, the men rushed to the graveyard, and by the light of their lanterns, they found Hoichi. He was sitting in the rain, alone before the memorial tomb of Emperor Antoku, fervently playing his biwa and chanting the tale of the Battle of Dan-no-ura. Surrounding him, behind him, and even on top of the gravestones were countless ghostly fires, glowing like candles. Never before had so many ghost lights been seen at once.

“Hoichi! Hoichi!” the men called out. “You’ve been bewitched by something!”

But Hoichi did not seem to hear them. He was fully engrossed in playing his biwa, chanting the tale more and more passionately. The attendants grabbed him, calling into his ear, “Hoichi! Hoichi! Come home with us now!”

Hoichi, seemingly unaware of reality, rebuked them harshly, saying, “How dare you interrupt me in the presence of such noble persons?”

Despite the eeriness of the situation, the men couldn’t help but laugh. It was clear that Hoichi was under some spell. They lifted him up and carried him back to the temple, where they helped him out of his wet clothes and gave him food and drink. The priest, determined to understand the strange events, insisted that Hoichi explain everything.

At first, Hoichi hesitated to speak. But seeing how distressed the priest was, he finally decided to break his silence. He recounted everything that had happened since the samurai first came to him.

The priest listened intently and then said, “Poor Hoichi! You are in great danger. It is unfortunate that you did not tell me of this sooner. Your extraordinary talent with the biwa has drawn you into a terrible situation. You must realize now that you have not been visiting anyone’s home at all. Instead, you have been spending your nights among the graves of the Heike clan. Tonight, the men saw you sitting before the memorial of Emperor Antoku. All that you imagined was an illusion, except for the spirits of the dead who came to you. Once you hear the words of the dead and heed their requests, your life is no longer your own. If you continue to obey their summons, you will surely be torn apart by them.

Even if you avoid that fate, you will be killed eventually. I cannot stay with you tonight, as I am called to another memorial service. But before I leave, I will write holy sutras over your body to protect you.”

Just before sunset, the priest and the attendant undressed Hoichi and, using a brush, they carefully wrote the entire text of the Heart Sutra across his body—from his chest and back, to his head, face, neck, arms, legs, and even the soles of his feet. When they finished, the priest gave Hoichi his instructions:

“Tonight, after I leave, you must sit on the veranda and wait. A visitor will come for you, but no matter what happens, you must not answer or move. Sit perfectly still, as though in deep meditation. If you move or make even the slightest sound, you will be torn apart. Do not be afraid or try to call for help—there will be no escape. But if you follow my instructions without fail, the danger will pass, and you will be safe.”

After nightfall, the priest and the attendant departed, and Hoichi, as instructed, sat on the veranda with his biwa beside him, adopting a meditative posture. He remained completely still, carefully avoiding even a cough or a breath that could be heard. Hours passed in this silence.

Then, Hoichi heard footsteps approaching from the direction of the road. The steps passed through the gate, crossed the garden, and stopped directly in front of the veranda.

“Hoichi!” called the deep, powerful voice. Hoichi held his breath, sitting as still as a stone.

“Hoichi!” the voice called again, this time with a terrifying force. And then a third time, in a fierce, menacing tone: “Hoichi!”

Still, Hoichi remained utterly motionless. After a moment, the voice, now sounding frustrated, muttered, “No answer? That’s strange… I must find out where he is.”

Heavy footsteps clambered onto the veranda and slowly approached Hoichi, stopping just beside him. For a long moment, all was deathly quiet. Hoichi could feel his entire body trembling with the rapid pounding of his heart.

Finally, the voice, now much closer, said roughly, “Here is the biwa, but where is the biwa player? All I see are two ears! No wonder he doesn’t answer—he has no mouth to speak with! Except for his ears, nothing remains of him… Well, I will take these ears to my lord as proof I have done as instructed.”

In that instant, Hoichi felt iron-like fingers grip his ears, and with a brutal yank, they were torn from his head! The pain was excruciating, but Hoichi remained silent. He heard the heavy footsteps retreating across the veranda, down into the garden, and eventually fade into the distance. Blood trickled down both sides of his head, but Hoichi did not move.

Before dawn, the priest returned. As he hurried to the back veranda, he slipped on something sticky, and with a start, realized it was blood. By the light of his lantern, he saw the blood streaming from Hoichi’s wounds, but Hoichi was still sitting in his meditative posture, despite the blood pouring from his ears.

“Poor Hoichi!” the priest cried out in shock. “What has happened to you? Are you hurt?”

Hearing the priest’s voice, Hoichi felt a wave of relief and began to weep. Through his tears, he recounted the events of the night.

“Poor, poor Hoichi!” the priest exclaimed. “This is all my fault—an awful mistake on my part! I wrote the sutras all over your body, but I forgot your ears! I had entrusted that part to the attendant, and I should have checked to make sure it was done. Because your ears were left unprotected, that’s where the spirits attacked! But there is nothing more to fear now. Your injuries will heal, and you will no longer be troubled by such visitors.”

Thanks to the help of a skilled doctor, Hoichi’s wounds healed quickly. News of this strange event spread far and wide, and soon Hoichi became famous. Nobles from all over visited Akama-ga-seki to hear him recite the Tale of the Heike. He received many gifts and large sums of money, and in time, Hoichi became quite wealthy. However, from that day forward, he was known only as “Hoichi the Earless.”