Why This Tale?
Among the many supernatural narratives preserved in classical Japanese literature, some stories stay with you longer than others. This particular tale from the Konjaku Monogatari-shū—a twelfth-century anthology—has lingered in my mind since I first encountered it.
Perhaps it’s the premise that unsettles me most: the idea that simply answering a knock at the door, simply showing your face through a gap in the wood, could be enough to kill you. Not through poison, not through violence, but through something far less tangible. A curse that travels on the sound of your own voice.
What strikes me about this story isn’t the supernatural element itself—Japanese folklore is filled with curses and spirits. It’s the terrifying mundanity of the victim’s mistake. He didn’t open the gate. He didn’t break the major rules of his ritual seclusion. He just… answered. He was polite. And that politeness cost him his life.
For English-speaking readers, I should note that adaptations of this tale often include some dramatic elaboration to make the cultural context and character motivations clearer. The core narrative and its key elements, however, remain faithful to the original source. The bones of this story have survived nearly a thousand years for good reason.
The Setup
A brilliant young official. A jealous rival. A forbidden curse-worker lurking in the ruins of the old capital. And three days of ritual seclusion that should have protected the victim—but instead became the very window through which death entered.
This is the story of how envy, ambition, and a single moment of social courtesy combined to destroy a promising life in Heian-period Japan.
The Tale
The narrative centers on a young man from the Otsuki clan, a family that had served for generations in the imperial Bureau of Accounting. The protagonist—we’ll call him Mochisuke, following tradition—was a prodigy. His abilities in calculation and administrative matters had earned him rapid advancement, and by his early twenties, he was already being spoken of as a future leader in his field.
This success bred resentment. A rival of similar background but lesser talent grew increasingly consumed by jealousy. The texts suggest this rival concluded that the only way to secure his own advancement was to eliminate the competition entirely.
When Mochisuke’s household received an ill omen—accounts vary on the specific nature, but strange phenomena involving fire are mentioned—the young official consulted a diviner. The diviner prescribed strict monoimi, a period of ritual seclusion lasting several days. During this time, Mochisuke was instructed to seal his gates, avoid all contact with the outside world, and most importantly, neither speak to outsiders nor show his face to anyone beyond his household.
The rival learned of this seclusion through undisclosed means. He then sought out a practitioner of forbidden arts—not a legitimate onmyōji of the court, but someone operating outside sanctioned channels. Together, they devised a plan.
The curse-worker explained that to direct a fatal curse, he needed two things: to hear his target’s voice and to see his face. If the rival could lure Mochisuke into providing both, the rest would follow.
On the second day of seclusion, the rival arrived at Mochisuke’s gate with the curse-worker hidden nearby. He knocked. He claimed urgent business. When servants refused to open the gate, he asked only that Mochisuke come to a small side door and speak through the slats.