The Tale of the Clam (Hamaguri no sōshi) chronicles the meeting, marriage, and eventual parting of two unlikely lovers: a poor middle-aged fisherman and the titular clam. As a testament to the enduring popularity of this odd couple, the tale survives in over a dozen variant texts produced over more than three centuries. The earliest of these, dated to 1526, bears the title Shūyū no monogatari (The Tale of Shūyū) after the hero of the same name. Shūyū became Shiyū and then Shishiu in subsequent retellings, but he is best known as Shijira, as he is called in roughly half the extant texts, including the version translated here.1 Whatever his name, the male protagonist seems to have dropped out of the title relatively early in the tale’s evolution, replaced by his mollusk wife. This change of namesakes is only fitting, given that the clam plays a far more active role in the story than does her hapless human husband.
Like so many animals in otogizōshi, the clam in The Tale of the Clam is not constrained by the limitations of her flesh-and-blood counterparts. She shifts easily from one identity to another, shedding her shell to become a beautiful maiden before at last revealing herself as a servant of the bodhisattva Kannon (Skt. Avalokiteśvara), sent to reward Shijira for his extraordinary filial piety. Much of the tale’s interest derives from Shijira’s ongoing failure to recognize his good fortune: he repeatedly attempts to throw the clam back into the water when it becomes snagged on his fishing line, and he shows little more enthusiasm for the woman who emerges from its shell. But for all his reluctance, Shijira allows himself to be led (and wed) by his unwanted guest, and so he makes his unwitting way to this-worldly prosperity and next-worldly bliss.
Like its shape-shifting heroine, The Tale of the Clam resists easy classification; it is simultaneously a Buddhist devotional tale, a tale of foreign lands (ikoku monogatari), and an interspecies tale (irui monogatari). The Buddhist themes of the story fit neatly with its exotic setting: the Indian kingdom of Magadha, where the historical Buddha lived and taught for many years. As one of the most enduringly popular figures in the Buddhist pantheon, Kannon appeared in dozens of distinct iconographic forms. Among them is the Clamshell Kannon (Kōri Kannon), first worshipped by Chinese fishermen; her introduction to Japan in the Muromachi period (1337–1573) doubtless provided the inspiration for The Tale of the Clam.2
In India, on the outskirts of the kingdom of Magadha,3 there once lived a man named Shijira. He was an extraordinarily poor man. He had lost his father early and had only his mother to care for; but in those days, a terrible famine was sweeping India, and countless people wasted away and died. Shijira struggled to feed his mother and performed all manner of labor in order to support her, raising his eyes up to heaven and prostrating himself on the earth. But however much he labored, it was all to no avail.
Then an idea came to him: he would go to the bay with his pole and line so that he might support his mother by catching fish. And so he went to the bay and rowed a small boat out to the open sea, where he cast his line. He caught fish of all sorts, and so day after day he was able to feed his mother. Shijira was glad about this; but then one day, when he went to the bay yet again and cast his line, he did not catch a single fish, even as the day wore on into evening. Shijira wondered if perhaps this was retribution for all the life he had taken to feed his mother. And later, when he still had not caught any fish, he thought, “How impatient my mother must be, waiting for me! She has not yet had anything to eat, and she must be growing fatigued.” All thought of fishing slipped from his mind, for he could think only of his mother. But perhaps the fishing rod had a mind of its own, for just then—aha!—it seemed that Shijira had at last caught a fish. Carefully he pulled up his line, and when he looked, he saw that his hook was caught on a pretty little clam.
Shijira catches a clam. (From Hamaguri no sōshi [Shibukawa printing], courtesy of the University of Tokyo Library System, Katei Bunko)
“What is this? What use could it possibly be?” Shijira thought, and tossed the clam into the sea. Well, clearly there were no fish to be had here, so he rowed his boat to the west and cast his line there—and when he did, there it was again, the same clam that he had caught in the waters to the south. “Hm, how strange!” Shijira thought, and once more he released it, tossing it into the sea.
After that, he rowed to the north and cast his line: and when he did, up once more came the clam that he had pulled up in the sea to the west. Then Shijira thought, “This is indeed something mysterious and strange, to pull up the same clam not once, not twice, but three times! I seem to have a three-fold bond with it.” This time, he pulled it up all the way and tossed it into his boat. When he lowered his line again, the clam suddenly began to grow bigger. Oh, how strange! Shijira took it and tried to drop it into the sea, but just as he did, three rays of golden light shone out from inside the clam. What was this? Shijira’s eyes widened, and his stomach dropped; terrified, he backed away. The shell of the clam swung open, and from it emerged a gorgeous lady, only seventeen or eighteen years of age.
The clam opens to reveal a beautiful young woman. (From Hamaguri no sōshi [Shibukawa printing], courtesy of the University of Tokyo Library System, Katei Bunko)
When Shijira saw this, he scooped up seawater to rinse his face and hands4 and said, “How strange that such a beautiful lady should rise up from the sea—a lady whose face is like a spring flower, whose countenance is like the autumn moon, perfect as a gem down to the very tips of her fingers! Are you perhaps a daughter of the Dragon King, or something of that nature?5 I am ashamed to have you in this poor man’s boat. Please return to your exalted dwelling.”
Then the lady said, “I do not know whence I came or whither I am going; please take me with you to your dwelling. Let us be of aid to each other, and make our way together in this sad world.”
“Oh, no! I am afraid I cannot even think of such a thing. Although I am already forty years old, I still do not have a wife. My mother is over sixty; I worry that my heart would be distracted and I might neglect her if I married. So, even though I know it goes against my mother’s wishes, I have no intention of taking a bride.” He spoke as if the mere suggestion were outrageous.
“What an unfeeling man you are! This is the way of things, so listen carefully. Even brushing sleeves bespeaks a bond in another life; even the birds rest their wings on branches with which they have a bond. Just imagine the cruelty of telling me to go away, that it was meaningless for me to come to this boat, after I have begged you so much!” She spoke with heartfelt sincerity, choking back tears.
When he saw this, Shijira felt pity for her and thought, “In that case, I should at least let her go on land.” Rowing quickly, he reached the beach ahead of the boats that were near the shore. “This is as far as I can take you, so I will say farewell,” he said, and tried to return home—but the lady gripped his sleeve and wailed, “At least take me to your house and let me spend the night! When dawn comes, I will let my feet lead me where they will.”
“What I call a ‘house’ is not even an ordinary house,” Shijira said. “It is truly the hut of a poor man, a wretched place. There would be nowhere for you to sit; I would be ashamed to seat you on our everyday tatami. Please wait, and I will build a house for you.”
To this the lady replied, “I have no wish to go elsewhere, even if it were to a house built of gold, silver, and precious gems. I will go to your dwelling.”
“In that case, please wait a little. First I will ask my mother, and then I will come and fetch you.” Shijira returned to his house; when he explained the situation to his mother, she was overjoyed and said, “Quickly! Clean the tatami, and then go and fetch her.”
Shijira happily hurried down to the seashore to retrieve the lady. She had grown impatient with waiting and set out after him, so they met as she was going along the path. Shijira said, “It must be painful for you to walk on your bare feet; please allow yourself to be carried on the back of this poor and humble man.” The lady gladly let him carry her. Arriving at his house, he let her down, and soon his mother came out to greet her. Ah, how ashamed she was! This was surely a heavenly maiden—how could she be in their house! She quickly set up a platform so that the lady’s seat would be higher than hers, and treated her with boundless reverence.
Shijira introduces the clam-woman to his mother. (From Hamaguri no sōshi [Shibukawa printing], courtesy of the University of Tokyo Library System, Katei Bunko)
Then Shijira’s mother said, “I am ashamed to make this request of you, but will you perchance consent to become Shijira’s wife? My son is already forty years old, and he still has no wife or a single child, which grieves me day and night. I am already sixty years old and may not live to see tomorrow, and this alone is the one thing that worries me. Ah,” she lamented, “what a perfect bride you would be for him!”
The lady said, “I do not know whence I came or whither I am going, but no matter; please let me be with Shijira. I will use skills unknown to other people, and we will make our way together in this sad world.”
Shijira’s mother was overjoyed. “Very well,” she said, and she explained the situation to her son. Now Shijira was filial by nature, so he complied with his mother’s wishes.
Even in India, people’s curiosity is fierce, and everybody said, “There is a mysterious woman, fallen from heaven, at Shijira’s place! Let us go and worship her.” Monks and laypeople, men and women alike wrapped up offerings of polished rice and went to pay their respects. Within a day, they had accumulated three barrels and six half-bushels of white rice. The lady said to the women who came to visit her, “I have no clothing;6 if you have any flax, please give it to me.” And so the next day, they came bearing flax. Shijira rejoiced in his heart, overjoyed by the knowledge that he would be able to support his mother, thanks to the rice that had been brought to them the day before.
Meanwhile, the lady secretly began preparing the flax. Although Shijira never saw her combing it, she somehow combed a great amount nonetheless. When she said that she wanted a spindle, Shijira went to look for one. The sound of the flax being spun was most curious. If one listened closely and tried to put it into words, the sound when she pushed the spindle away from her was namu-jōjū-butsu, “Hail the Everlasting Buddha”; the sound when she pulled the spindle toward her was namu-jōjū-hō, “Hail the Everlasting Dharma”; and the sound when she wrapped the spindle was anokutara-sanmyaku-sanbodai, “Supreme Perfect Wisdom.” Also, when she lifted up her bracer, it made a sound like namu-myō, “Hail the Wondrous …,” as she spun.
She spun for twenty-five days,7 and then she said that she wanted a loom. Very well—Shijira began to build one for her. But then he looked at it and said, “An ordinary loom is no good. I will make alterations.” He got out a book and made the loom as he wanted.
The lady was overjoyed, but then she thought, “How will I wrap it?” Immediately, divine beings became aware of her plight—for how could the principle of “vastly practicing the expedient means of wisdom” be wrong?8—and two complete strangers came and asked for a night’s lodging. Together, they wrapped the loom. “How miraculous,” Shijira’s mother thought, not for the first time, and showed the lady ever more boundless reverence.
As for Shijira, after he had finished the loom, he once again resumed his labors. He was overjoyed that his mother could now live in comfort, and his heart was more at ease than ever before; he knew no suffering, although at this time the famine in Magadha was extraordinary. He rejoiced that they were at ease, and he had his mother sleep with her feet resting on his forehead.
At this time, Shijira’s wife, who was sleeping beside him, asked Shijira, “Why are you crying?”
Shijira said, “When my mother was younger, she was plump, and when I had her sleep with her feet on my forehead, they were heavy. But as the years passed, she grew thinner and thinner, and now she is so very light. There is nothing I can do but cry.”
When Shijira’s wife heard this, she said, “Ah, Shijira, your heart is truly admirable! How could you not have the blessings of the Buddha? Such filial piety is rare in this world.” Then she told a tale: “Consider the birds of Yue, which build their nests in the south-facing branches.9 They remember the shelter of their parents’ wings, and when it comes time for them to leave the nest and all fly away together, mother and chicks alike cannot bring themselves to part. Although they are separated by clouds, their hearts are clouded by lingering attachment,10 and so every day for one hundred days these filial birds return to the branches of the tree where they were born and rest their wings there, and their mother rejoices to have her chicks beside her.” Consoling her husband, she said, “As miraculous proof of their filial conduct, however much a hunter may wish to catch these birds, set snares though he may, they will not be caught. Nor can they be caught by hawks or eagles. A person who has attained rebirth as a human but who does not obey his parents will receive great calamity in this world; he will meet with the seven misfortunes, and nothing will go as he wishes. But heaven will bestow blessings on a filial son, ‘clearing away the seven misfortunes and giving rise to the seven fortunes’; all his wishes will be realized in a single day, and he will receive the reverence of the masses. In this life, he will progress on the path of seeking enlightenment and receive peace and pleasure; he will sit on a nine-tiered lotus throne beside the Eastern Pure Land of the Medicine King and the Western Pure Land of Amida and the highest Pure Lands of all the various buddhas; he will manifest divine powers; as long as he prays to Kannon, there is no doubt that this will be so.” As she spoke, the fragrance of her breath carried the scent of otherworldly incense, which filled every nook and cranny of the house day and night.
Now Shijira’s wife wished to weave, so she said to him, “This house is cramped and narrow; please build a room for my loom.” Shijira immediately took some rough-hewn logs and built a room for her loom. Then his wife said, “When I am weaving, absolutely no one must enter.”
Shijira’s wife and her guest weave at the loom. (From Hamaguri no sōshi [Shibukawa printing], courtesy of the University of Tokyo Library System, Katei Bunko)
“I understand,” Shijira said, and told his mother as well. That evening, a young woman arrived from an unknown place and asked for lodging. Shijira’s wife immediately offered her the room with the loom. Shijira’s mother said, “You said that no one was to enter that room; why are you letting her stay there?”
“I do not mind having this particular woman here,” Shijira’s wife replied. The sound of them weaving together was marvelous indeed. The bodhisattva in the “Universal Gate” chapter of the Lotus Sutra weaves on a jeweled loom.11 Truly it was a blessing to hear their voices as they wove all twenty-eight chapters of the Lotus Sutra, from the first volume to the eighth. Day and night, they wove for twelve months. “Now it has been woven,” Shijira’s wife announced, and they folded up the cloth into a square the size of a go board, six inches thick and two feet on each side. Then she said to Shijira, “Tomorrow, take this to the market in Sarnath in the kingdom of Magadha and sell it.”12
Shijira’s wife presents her husband with the woven cloth. (From Hamaguri no sōshi [Shibukawa printing], courtesy of the University of Tokyo Library System, Katei Bunko)
Shijira said, “What price should I ask for it?”
“Sell it for three thousand strings of gold coins,” his wife replied.13
“What a strange idea!” Shijira said with laughter in his voice. “The cloth that is bought and sold nowadays is ordinarily quite cheap. That price is far too high.”
“This is no ordinary cloth,” his wife said. “There will certainly be someone at Sarnath who will recognize it. Its value is without bounds. Now, hurry and go—people will be arriving at the market soon.”
So Shijira took the cloth to the market in Sarnath. “What on earth is this,” some people scoffed, while others just looked at him suspiciously. He carried the cloth about for the whole day, but not a single person gave it a second look. “Just as I expected,” Shijira thought. He had been a fool indeed to bring this cloth to the market; how awful it was to have made a laughingstock of himself. Just as he was about to take the cloth back home, an elderly man came riding up the road on a dapple-gray horse, accompanied by thirty-three attendants.14 He was a man of incomparably imposing appearance, more than sixty years of age, his beard and his hair pure white. “Who are you?” he asked, and Shijira replied, “I am called Shijira. I came to the market in Sarnath to sell this cloth, but no one bought it, so I am taking it back home.”
“Ah, so you are the one I heard about,” the old man said. “I’ll have a look at that cloth.” Shijira held it up toward the horse. When the thirty-three attendants unfolded the cloth, its length was thirty-three ells. “Cloth such as this is rare nowadays,” the old man said. “I will buy it; what is the price?”
“Three thousand strings of gold coins,” Shijira said.
“What a bargain! Now, let us go to my place.” The old man invited Shijira to join him, and from there they traveled south.15 They came to a gate with rows upon rows of high eaves towering into the clouds. Shijira’s eyes widened in astonishment when he saw the agate base stones, the crystal pillars, the lapis lazuli rafters, and the seashell shingles. When they passed through the gate, the air was redolent with otherworldly incense, and flowers drifted down as the sound of music rose to the heavens. Shijira’s heart felt young and ancient at the same time, and he forgot all about returning home.
The old man rode up to the edge of the veranda and dismounted before going inside. Soon, three men came out, carrying three thousand strings of gold coins. “How could any human be so strong?” Shijira wondered with some fear.
“Call our cloth merchant over here,” the old man said, summoning Shijira inside. Legs trembling and heart racing, Shijira could not think where to stand. After having been summoned several times, he climbed the steps to the inner corridor. As he climbed, he felt as if he were walking across thin ice. Then the old man said, “Let him have some liquor of longevity.” Shijira was by nature a man who loved his drink, so he tried a cup and found that it was a liquor beyond the power of words to describe, bursting with the flavor of sweet nectar. He could have drunk any amount of this liquor, but the old man said, “You must not drink more than seven cups.” And so seven cups was all that he was given.
Shijira drinks the liquor of longevity at the old man’s palace. (From Hamaguri no sōshi [Shibukawa printing], courtesy of the University of Tokyo Library System, Katei Bunko)
Then the old man said, “I will have the three thousand strings of gold coins brought to your house,” and he summoned three fearsome-looking men. Their names were Disciple Śravaka-Kaya, Disciple Vaiśravaṇa-Kaya, and Disciple Brahman-Kaya.16 The old man bade them to bring all three thousand strings of gold coins to Shijira’s house in a single journey.
When Shijira asked to take his leave, the old man said, “The liquor of longevity that you drank just now is the liquor of Kannon’s Pure Land. One cup will preserve your life for a thousand years. Better still, you drank seven cups, so you will live for seven thousand years. From now on, even if you do not eat, you will feel no hunger; even if you have no clothes, you will feel no cold. This is the reward for your filial piety.” After he had said this, the old man departed, riding on a cloud and radiating five-colored beams of light as he rose into the southern sky.
Shijira returned to his home. He wanted to tell his wife what had happened, but when he could not find the words to describe what he had seen, she related the whole story without the slightest error. Shijira was terrified, and just as he was thinking that she must be some divine being in disguise, she announced, “Now I must take my leave.”
“Oh, how sad!” Shijira’s mother said when she heard this. “Not so long ago, I welcomed a daughter-in-law beyond my wildest expectations, and both Shijira and I knew joy beyond compare. And now you say that you are leaving—ah, my heart is breaking!” Raising her eyes up to the heavens and throwing herself down on the earth, she lamented endlessly.
Shijira’s wife said, “Having stayed with you for so long, I wished to do something to earn my keep, and also to leave something for you to remember me by—although I do hope that you will one day forget what has passed—so I took pains to weave that cloth and sell it for three thousand strings of gold coins. This will support you for the rest of your life. However, you must not think that this is anything particularly extraordinary; it is nothing other than the result of Shijira’s filial piety. I came here as a messenger from the Pure Land of Kannon. What do I have to hide now? I am Kumara-kumari-kaya, a servant of Kannon.17 The place where you sold your cloth was Potala, the Pure Land of Kannon. After this, you shall live for seven thousand years, thanks to the seven cups of liquor that you drank. From now on, you shall prosper and receive the protection of the Three Treasures of the gods and buddhas. When you drank the liquor of longevity, three men came out to pour it for you; their names were Disciple Śravaka-Kaya, Disciple Vaiśravaṇa-Kaya, and Disciple Brahman-Kaya, and they are my comrades. Without a doubt, this, too, is because Kannon was moved to take pity on you by the virtue of your filial piety. Now, farewell.” With these words, she set out from Shijira’s house. At the gate, she begged her leave once more, like a bird leaving the nest.
Reluctant to part, Shijira looked up to the sky in the south and saw her rising upward on a white cloud. Music echoed in the air, the fragrance of otherworldly incense perfumed the four quarters, and flowers drifted down as all the various bodhisattvas came to greet her. Shijira stood dumbfounded for a long time, but because he could not imagine that they would ever meet again, he and his mother resolutely made their way home.
After that, Shijira did indeed prosper, and he was able to support his mother in perfect comfort. Now Shijira’s karma destined him to attain buddhahood and achieve enlightenment, so he became a buddha and after seven thousand years ascended to heaven. At that time, lavender clouds trailed through the sky, the fragrance of otherworldly incense filled the four quarters, flowers drifted down, the wind of immortality blew, and the sound of music rang out endlessly as the twenty-five bodhisattvas, the thirty-three manifestations of Kannon, the twenty-eight attendants of Kannon, the three thousand buddhas, the sixteen Divine Youths, the four Heavenly Kings, and the five Wisdom Kings filled the sky, all utterly resplendent.18
Truly, this is the result of filial piety. Forever after, all those who read this tale and behave with filial piety will prosper like this; in this world and the next, all their wishes will be granted instantly. In this world, they shall be freed from the seven misfortunes, they shall experience no difficulties, they shall receive the reverence of the masses, and their descendants shall flourish. In the next world, they shall without a doubt attain buddhahood. Be filial and read this tale to others, read it to others!
TRANSLATION AND INTRODUCTION BY LAURA K. NÜFFER
The translation and illustrations are from the woodblock-printed Hamaguri no sōshi in the Osaka publisher Shibukawa Seiemon’s Companion Library (Otogi bunko, early eighteenth century), typeset and annotated in Ichiko Teiji, ed., Otogizōshi, Nihon koten bungaku taikei 38 (Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1958), 212–28.
1. Kobayashi Yuka, “Otogizōshi Hamaguri no sōshi no denpon ni tsuite no kōsatsu,” Koten bungaku kenkyū 1 (1992): 38–39, 41–42; Matsumoto Ryūshin, Eiin Muromachi monogatari shūsei (Tokyo: Kyūko Shoin, 1970), 1:263. Nakano Maori (now Saitō Maori) suggests that the earliest forms of the tale likely gave the protagonist’s name as Shijira, and that variants such as Shūyū are later corruptions, in “Hamaguri no sōshi kō,” Kokugo kokubun 63, no. 3 (1994): 27–28. Shijira, a type of finely woven cotton fabric, does seem to be a particularly fitting name for the protagonist, who becomes fabulously wealthy thanks to his wife’s skill as a weaver.
2. The association between Kannon and clamshells may derive in part from the latter’s resemblance to the female genitalia; although depicted as male in most canonical sources, Kannon attracted the greatest popular devotion in feminine form. Japanese folklore seems to have gendered clams as female even in contexts unrelated to Buddhism, as is demonstrated by a widely distributed folktale known as hamaguri nyōbō (the clam-wife). In this story, a poor fisherman is visited by a mysterious woman who becomes his wife and serves him delicious meals every night. One day, the fisherman spies on his wife while she is cooking and catches her urinating into the pot; worse yet, he realizes that her urine tastes delicious because she is in fact a clam. Her identity discovered, the clam-woman disappears back into the ocean. The relationship between the clam-wife folktale and The Tale of the Clam is unclear, although it is unlikely that they developed in isolation from each other.
3. Located in the Ganges River valley, Magadha ranked among the most powerful Indian kingdoms during the Buddha’s lifetime and proved fertile ground for early Buddhism in subsequent centuries.
4. Believing himself to be in the presence of a divine being, Shijira ritually purifies himself.
5. The Dragon King was believed to rule the sea from his underwater palace.
6. In some versions of the text, the lady describes herself as sadaka (“trustworthy” or “reliable”) rather than hadaka (without clothing). I have elected to use the latter term, as it seems more logical in this context, following Hamaguri no sōshi, in Otogizōshi, ed. Ichiko, 218n.5.
7. The number twenty-five suggests chapter 25 of the Lotus Sutra, in which the bodhisattva Kannon vows to save all living beings.
8. This is a quotation from chapter 25 of the Lotus Sutra. See Burton Watson, trans., The Lotus Sutra (New York: Columbia University Press, 1993), 305.
9. The story of the birds of Yue comes from Kongzi jiayu (The School Sayings of Confucius). Despite its title, the book appears to be the invention of the scholar Wang Su (195–256), who lived more than six centuries after Confucius’s death. See Paul Rakita Goldin, Rituals of the Way: The Philosophy of Xunxi (Chicago: Open Court Press, 1999), 135–36.
10. This passage contains wordplay that resists full translation. In the original text, kumo indicates both the figurative “clouds” of lingering attachment and the literal clouds that separate the mother bird from her chicks. Buddhist doctrine construed all worldly attachments, including those between a parent and a child, as impediments to enlightenment. Although The Tale of the Clam attempts to situate Confucian notions of filial piety within the framework of Buddhist soteriology, it cannot wholly suppress the tensions between the two philosophies.
11. The bodhisattva in the “Universal Gate” chapter—chapter 25 of the Lotus Sutra—is Kannon. The Lotus Sutra makes no mention of Kannon using a loom; the connection derives from Japanese popular belief, specifically the legends surrounding Chūjōhime, an eighth-century noblewoman credited with weaving a miraculous tapestry depicting the Pure Land. For Chūjōhime’s story, see R. Keller Kimbrough, trans., Chūjōhime, in Traditional Japanese Literature: An Anthology, Beginnings to 1600, ed. Haruo Shirane (New York: Columbia University Press, 2007), 1138–50.
12. Sarnath is said to have been the site of the Buddha’s first sermon.
13. Typically, a string of coins consisted of one thousand perforated coins strung together.
14. Here and elsewhere, the number thirty-three suggests the thirty-three manifestations of Kannon. According to the Lotus Sutra, Kannon will appear to each individual in whichever manifestation is best suited to guide him or her to salvation.
15. Kannon’s Pure Land was believed to lie to the south. In some of the older variants of the story, the old man’s residence is located in the west—the direction of the Pure Land of Amida (Skt. Amitābha) Buddha—suggesting that the original form of the tale may have incorporated elements of Amidism rather than focusing exclusively on Kannon.
16. Śravaka literally means “hearer of the voice” and refers to a dedicated follower of the Buddha, Vaiśravaṇa (J. Bishamon or Bishamonten) is the guardian deity of the north, and a Brahman is a member of the Hindu priestly caste. All three number among the thirty-three manifestations (kaya) of Kannon.
17. Kumara-kumari-kaya means “Youth-Maiden-Manifestation.” In the “Universal Gate” chapter of the Lotus Sutra, Kannon vows to appear as a youth or a maiden to anyone able to hear the dharma from these manifestations. See Watson, trans., Lotus Sutra, 301–2.
18. The twenty-eight attendants of Kannon suggest the twenty-eight chapters of the Lotus Sutra. The three thousand buddhas comprise the buddhas of past, present, and future eons, while the sixteen Divine Youths serve as messengers to the buddhas. The four Heavenly Kings and the five Wisdom Kings are guardian deities of Buddhism associated with the cardinal directions. The twenty-five bodhisattvas accompany Amida when he welcomes the faithful to the Pure Land; their presence here hints at Amidist influences on the tale.