The Eight-Headed Serpent of the River Hi
An exiled god finds an old couple weeping by a river — the reason: a monster that eats one daughter every year, and this year it's the last one's turn.
Banished from the heavenly plain of Takamagahara, the god Susanoo no Mikoto descended to a place called Torikami in the land of Izumo. There, watching a chopstick drift down the River Hi, he reasoned that people must live upstream, and he followed the current until he found an old man and woman weeping over a young girl.
The old man introduced himself as Ashinazuchi, an earthly deity and child of the mountain god Ōyamatsumi. His wife was Tenazuchi, and their daughter was Kushinada-hime. Once they had eight daughters, he explained, but for eight years running a monstrous serpent from Koshi had come and devoured one each time. Only Kushinada-hime remained, and her turn was near.
Asked to describe the creature, Ashinazuchi said its eyes were red like cherries, that it had eight heads and eight tails, and that its body — covered in moss, cypress, and cedar — stretched across eight valleys and eight peaks, its belly always oozing blood. This was Yamata no Orochi, the eight-forked serpent.
Susanoo revealed himself as the younger brother of the sun goddess Amaterasu and offered to kill the serpent in exchange for Kushinada-hime's hand in marriage. Ashinazuchi agreed at once. Susanoo then turned the girl into a comb and tucked it into his hair for safekeeping, before instructing the old couple to brew a powerful sake called Yashiori-no-Sake — eightfold-refined — and to build a fence with eight gates, setting a vat of the brew before each one.
Everything was prepared exactly as Susanoo had ordered, and soon the eight-headed serpent arrived as foretold. It plunged a head into each vat and drank greedily, growing drunk and finally collapsing into sleep. Susanoo drew the sword at his side, the ten-span blade called Totsuka-no-Tsurugi, and hacked the serpent apart until the River Hi ran red with its blood.
More from Mythology
The Doctor Who Sang a Nation Into Being
A country doctor rode into the forests of Karelia armed with nothing but a notebook — and rode out with the soul of a nation.
The Boat That Carried the Sun
Every sunset, the ancient Egyptians believed, the sun climbed into a boat and sailed straight into the realm of the dead — only to fight a monstrous serpent before dawn could return.
The Wild Man of the Snows
At 21,000 feet, a colonel found tracks in the snow that he blamed on a wolf — but his guides knew better, and gave the world a name that would echo for a century.
The Knight Who Went Mad for Love: Orlando Furioso
A hero so devoted to duty he was Charlemagne's greatest paladin loses his mind—not to a sword wound, but to heartbreak. To cure him, a friend must ride a flying horse to the Moon.
The Book That Turned the World Into Myth
A poet condemned to exile spent his final years in Rome finishing a poem that would outlive empires—a poem about nothing standing still, not gods, not lovers, not even the shape of a man.
Paradise Lost: Milton's Rebel Angel
A blind poet, dictating verses in the dark, dared to explain the ways of God to men — and in doing so, made Hell's ruler unforgettable.