Note: Yamanoke is the origin of the song title “Otonoke” by Creepy Nuts, the theme song of the anime “Dandadan.”
Yamanoke
A week ago, I took my daughter for a drive. We cruised a lonely mountain road, grabbed lunch at a little drive‑in *1, and—just for kicks—I veered onto an unpaved side path to scare her.
Her pleas to stop only egged me on, so I kept going. Then the engine died, dead quiet.
No signal way out here, no idea how to fix a car. The diner was hours away on foot.
So we decided to sleep in the car and hike back at dawn.
Night fell. A mountain at night makes no sound—just the trees rustling whenever the wind stirs.
My daughter nodded off in the passenger seat. I was about to close my eyes when I heard it:
“Ten… (sounded like Ken?)… sou… metsu…”—a voice, or maybe a noise, repeating over and over.
I tried telling myself I’d misheard, kept my eyes shut, but the sound felt like it was getting closer. I finally peeked.
Something white and featureless lurched toward the car, moving all wrong. Picture Jamila from Ultraman *3—headless, a single leg, wobbling closer like it was ken‑ken hopping *2 while its arms thrashed.
Note: Jamila from Ultraman
Terror clamped my throat, but all I could think was, “Don’t wake my daughter.” I sat frozen, neither screaming nor running.
The thing shuffled past the hood, that chant still droning: “Ten… sou… metsu…”
When the sound drifted off and the road behind was empty, relief washed over me—until I turned toward my daughter. It was right outside her window.
Up close I saw the “head” was really a face set low in the chest. It flashed a nightmare grin.
Fear flipped to fury—this thing was near my kid. I shouted, “You bastard!”
The moment the words left my mouth, it vanished, and my daughter jolted awake.
I thought I’d frightened her, but she just muttered, “It got in… it got in… it got in…” on repeat.
Panic took over. On a prayer I twisted the key—the engine roared to life. I tore back the way we’d come.
Beside me she kept whispering.
I gunned it for the first lights of town, but her chant had morphed into that same “Ten… sou… metsu…”, and her face no longer looked like hers.
Home was out of the question. I spotted a temple and swerved in.
Though it was past midnight, lights burned in the priest’s quarters. I half‑dragged my daughter and rang the bell.
The priest took one look and snapped, “What did you do?”
When I babbled about the mountain and the thing I’d seen, he sighed, then began chanting sutras, thumping her shoulders and back—an emergency exorcism *7.
He called the creature a Yamanoke *6. If she stayed like this past the forty‑nine‑day mark *5, he said, she’d never be herself again. He offered to keep her and try to drive it out.
We phoned my wife; somehow she believed us. The priest warned that if we’d gone straight home, the Yamanoke would have latched onto my wife as well—it only possesses women—so my wife can’t see our daughter until the spirit is gone.
A week’s passed. She’s still at the temple. I visit every day, but she isn’t my daughter now—just that eerie grin and those eyes tracking me.
I need her back.
Never head into the mountains for fun.
- *1 Drive‑in – In rural Japan, a roadside diner/rest‑stop where travelers eat and refuel.
- *2 Ken‑ken – Hopping on one leg, like a hopscotch skip.
- *3 Jamila (Ultraman) – A 1966 kaiju with a headless silhouette and a face on its chest.
- *4 “Ten… sou… metsu…” – A nonsense phrase; its meaning is unknown, used purely for its ominous sound.
- *5 Forty‑nine days – In Japanese Buddhism, the soul is believed to linger for 49 days; memorial services mark the period.
- *6 Yamanoke – Literally “mountain spirit”; a folkloric entity said to possess women who enter its territory.
- *7 Shoulder‑beating exorcism – A quick esoteric Buddhist rite where a priest chants and strikes the possessed person’s back to drive out spirits.
