back to Tell Me A Story

adapted by Amy Friedman and illustrated by Jillian Gilliland

Long ago, when the world was just beginning, two gods appeared in the land we call Japan. Izanami, a female god, and Izanagi, a male, stood upon the floating bridge of heaven, looking down at the swirl of sea below. They began to stir the ocean with their jewel-studded spear, and as they stirred, they said these words: "Kohro, Kohro, Kohro," and before long, because they stirred with such strength and determination, the water curdled, and from this curdling came the first body of land, an island the gods called Onokoro.

Izanami and Izanagi built a house upon Onokoro, and the central stone pillar of that house became the backbone of the world. Izanami walked one way around that pillar, and Izanagi walked the other way, and at their meeting place, they wed.

Soon afterward Izanami gave birth to a child they named Hiruko, but he struggled to survive, and his parents decided they must send him away. They placed him in a cradle of reeds and set him adrift upon the sea, and there he became Ebisu, god of fishermen, and ever since that day he has guided the men and women who work at sea.

Izanami and Izanagi had more children. The next eight children became islands, the islands of Japan. The next children became gods, first of the sea, then of the river, then of the wind and the trees. Alas, then Izanami gave birth to the fire god known as Kagutsuchi, and his heat burned her so badly that she died and traveled to the land of the dead, Yomotsu-Kuni.

Izanagi was devastated and furious with the fire god. After he had punished him, he turned his attention to the land of the dead.

"Izanami," he wept, calling to her. "My love, I must find you. I will come to you, and I will bring you home. We have much more to do, my dearest wife. There is more for us to create on this Earth."

Izanami heard her husband calling to her, but she knew he was too late. She lived now in this gloomy land, and she knew she could never again leave. She had already eaten their food, and this, they say, sealed her fate. "Husband," she called, "wait for me. I will request permission to return to you, but whatever you do, do not search for me. Do not look at me. You must not see me here."

"I will wait, my wife," Izanagi called, and so he did. He waited a long while, hoping that the gods in the land of the dead would allow his wife to return. But time passed, and he heard no sounds, and his patience began to wane.

At long last he could not control himself, and so he broke a tooth from the comb he wore plaited into his hair. This he turned into a torch, and he cast the bright light of his torch down through the gloomy tunnels and alleyways. He began to descend, following the light from his comb. "Izanami," he called, and after a long while, he heard something. "Is that you, my wife?" he asked, not daring to hope.

"Don't look," she cried, but Izanagi ignored his wife's fair warnings, and he cast his light toward the voice. He recoiled in horror at the sight. This was no longer the woman he had loved. She was repulsive to behold. "No," he cried, and he turned to run away.

"Shame on you," she said. "I told you not to look at me. Now we are doomed. The only way we can be together is for you to die as well," and with that she called upon the demons to kill her husband.

Izanagi ran as fast as he could. He could feel the spirits close behind, and so, as he ran, he threw down his headdress, which turned into grapes. The spirits stopped to eat these, and this gave Izanagi time to run ahead. He ran with all his strength, and next he threw down peaches to distract the spirits. These, too, they stopped to eat.

Finally he reached the land of the living. He could see it there, just ahead of him. "Wait! You cannot leave me," Izanami cried, and now Izanagi felt his wife's breath, she was so close. He plunged out into the world of the living, and as he did, he hurled an enormous boulder behind him, sealing the land of the dead from the land of the living.

The boulder was so huge, no one could move it, not even the goddess Izanami. He could hear her weeping behind the boulder, and he could hear her furious wail. "Izanagi," she cried, "I will punish you for leaving the land of the dead. Every day I will kill one thousand of your people and I will bring them to this land."

Izanagi's heart felt heavy, but he knew what he must do. "So you shall," he said, "and every day I will make sure that one thousand and five hundred babies are born into this land."

And ever since that day, both Izanagi and Izanami have kept their promises, and the land of the living and the land of the dead have, ever since, remained separated.