Japan according to Earthquakes
Early modern earthquakes shook complex societies. Prevailing perceptions of the natural world, religious concepts, moral norms, political practices, and other resources were available as tools for making sense of major earthquakes. These varied social resources, however, were often insufficient to explain destructive events of such great magnitude in an entirely satisfactory way. Consequently, earthquakes could function as catalysts, accelerating social changes already under way. In some cases, they even stimulated new developments. One example is the Ansei Edo earthquake stimulating new ideas about the mechanics of earthquakes and therefore how to predict and defend against them.
Major earthquakes produced thought and rhetoric about religion, morality, politics, and sometimes the very foundations of society. Time, place, and circumstances mattered. For example, the development of a nationwide network of news distribution and substantial reading audiences in urban areas by 1830, combined with an earthquake that shook the imperial capital during a year of special religious significance, helped create sensationally exaggerated media reports. The fear such reports generated was in turn an impetus for the publication of Thoughts on Earthquakes (Jishinkō) and other works encouraging a calm, rational approach to earthquakes. Thoughts on Earthquakes advanced scientific knowledge and helped condition the way Japanese in the 1840s and 1850s reacted to earthquakes.
Earthquakes functioned both as agents of social change and as windows affording a particularly clear view of society. The previous chapter explains the development of a dominant view concerning the mechanical causes of the earth's bouts of violent shaking. This chapter moves the analysis into the realm of the social effects of earthquakes. I argue that earthquakes contributed to shaping the social and imaginative contours of Japan. Moreover, earthquakes even created some of the physical contours of Japan. The claim in Ways of Earthquakes in Japan (Honchō jishin no shidai) that Lake Biwa and Mt. Fuji arose from an ancient earthquake was, of course, an oversimplification of complex geophysical forces. It was a plausible idea, however, because by 1855 the phenomenon of earthquakes creating land, lakes, and mountains had become well documented.
Despite widespread agreement on the basic physical mechanisms that produced earthquakes, these mechanisms were only the proximate cause of shaking. At least for some Japanese, social factors such as moral corruption, extreme imbalances in wealth, or government malfeasance might have a role to play in earthquakes or other disasters. A lack of clear boundaries between natural and social phenomena encouraged a tendency to view these realms as interconnected. Consider, for example, these words by Kaibara Ekken (1630–1714), which display typical Confucian macrocosmic-microcosmic thinking: “If the flow of material force (ki) through heaven and earth is obstructed, abnormalities arise, causing natural disasters such as violent windstorms, floods and droughts, and earthquakes. If the things of the world are long collected together, such obstruction is inevitable. In humans, if the blood, vital essence (ki), food and drink do not circulate and flow, the result is disease. Likewise, if vast material wealth is collected in one place and not permitted to benefit and enrich others, disaster will strike later.” In just a few sentences, Ekken has linked the human body with the forces of nature and the economic well-being of society.
Nearly two centuries later, the catfish print Earthquake Fortune Explained (Jishin kikkyō no ben) expressed a similar point that everything from human anatomy to cosmic anatomy is interconnected. The lengthy text of the print ranges widely. It begins with a pregnancy metaphor: “Earthquakes are the basis for years of bountiful harvests. What reason is there to be angry with them? In autumn the trees and grass return to the earth, and the energy of winter produces an abundance of sprouts within the earth. The blessing of Heaven makes the earth pregnant, giving birth to all things. However, things appearing in violation of the proper temporal sequence cause earthquakes. Earthquakes are the result of the labor pains of the earth.” This print argues, often in convoluted detail, that while a misalignment of cosmic forces and the seasons helped cause the earthquake, in the longer run the destruction of the earthquake will lead to renewal. The print also has much to say about human morality: “People who are not socialized lack gratitude. Humans regard heaven and earth as their father and mother, and all things and the people of the four seas are their siblings. On this basis, it is the ethical human way for the old to guide the young and for the young to assist the old. In recent years, however, humane feelings have grown thin. The gap between self and others is strong, and people delight in luxurious food. They take delight in outof-season flowers, spending much money, and acting contrary to heavenly principles. For example, even those who escape earthquake damage turn their backs on these teachings, although they should be humble.” In short, the recent earthquake has highlighted an alleged moral degeneration of society. That this moral decay played a role in causing the earthquake is implied but not clearly articulated. Underlying the text is a vague notion of correlative cosmology in which personal behavior, human society, and cosmic forces are interconnected.
The bulk of the discussion in Earthquake Fortune Explained argues that the human body is a microcosm of the broader cosmos. Humans, therefore, are bound by cosmically ordained ethical rules. Discarding or ignoring these rules can result in such corrective action as the current earthquake: “Indeed, because humans have received the character of heaven and earth, there is no characteristic of heaven and earth that is not reflected in people. Heaven is round, and therefore people's heads are round. The sun and the moon are in the heavens and thus people have two eyes. The stars are arrayed in the heavens and people have rows of teeth. Heaven produces wind and rain, and humans have the emotions of happiness and anxiety. Heaven speaks with thunder, humans speak with vocal sounds. Heaven possesses yin and yang, humans male and female.” The full discussion goes on at greater length, but one argument should be clear at this point: humans are a reflection of cosmic forces in every aspect. The implication is that the earthquake was not a random occurrence, independent of human society and behavior.
There was a range of possibilities for imagining interactions between the cosmic forces and human society. Deities, usually expressed by the stock phrase “the kami and the buddhas,” played a major but not absolute role. The kami and buddhas were powerful forces. Typically, they were imagined much like local human warlords in their castles. Residing in their shrines and temples, kami, buddhas, and bodhisattvas watched over their territory and intervened by bestowing rewards or punishments. Resembling powerful humans, deities could be neutral, protective, or antagonistic vis-à-vis an individual or organization. Some were more powerful than others, but none was all-powerful. Only as a team, for example, might a group of deities be able to start or prevent something as large as a major earthquake. Sometimes, the convulsions of the earth were beyond their power to control. Popular prints produced in the wake of both the Odawara and IgaUeno earthquakes echoed this point: “Even the benevolence of the deities and the buddhas would have been unlikely to calm the situation.”
The power of a deity was usually greatest in the area near its home base. The deities were not transcendent forces. They relied for their power on human society, just as human society benefited from divine assistance. The first article of the Jōei Formulary of 1232 states, “Kami increase their power by virtue of people venerating them, and people encounter good fortune by means of the divine influence of the kami.” At the time, this view of deities was new and stood in contrast to an older view of them as capricious and unpredictable. This Jōei Formulary assertion was an early example of the medieval theory of mutual interdependence between deities and humans. What was a theological concept in medieval times became widely accepted common sense by the Tokugawa period.
Let us consider two examples from the 1850s that illustrate views of the deities from a popular perspective. In connection with the intimidating visits of Commodore Matthew Perry in 1853 and 1854, the bakufu began an ambitious plan to create offshore artillery batteries on artificially constructed islands in Edo Bay. The name for these batteries was daiba (or o-daiba), and they quickly became an iconic symbol of bakufu power or weakness, depending on one's point of view (fig. 6). A satirical tale circulating in 1854 described the annual meeting of Japan's major deities at Izumo. The assembled deities call on Amaterasu to summon forth a divine wind (kamikaze) to drive away the Americans, but Amaterasu tries to pass the buck and get Shakyamuni (the Buddha) to do the job. Amaterasu's ostensible reason is that these days, the “way of the kami” is in decline relative to the prosperity of Buddhism. Upon hearing Amaterasu's request that he produce a “Buddhist wind,” Shakyamuni nervously declines because he has heard there are many “daiba” in Edo Bay. “Daiba,” written with different characters, was a well-known abbreviation of Daibadatta (Sanskrit: Devadatta), an evil disciple who tried to kill Shakyamuni. Though amusement was the main point of this tale, it nicely illustrates popular views of the deities. They are powerful but far from invincible. They might act as a group during a crisis, and their motives are similar to those of humans.
Similarly, the Ansei Edo earthquake occurred during the tenth lunar month, the “month of no deities” (kannazuki or kaminazuki), a time when the major deities of Japan leave their home bases and travel to Izumo for a convention. While away on business, these deities leave subordinates behind to attend to local matters. Ebisu was the designated caretaker in the case of the Kashima deity (Kashima Daimyōjin), the most powerful kami near Edo. Almost as soon as Kashima departed, the earthquake occurred. It was common for catfish prints to portray Ebisu as incompetent and to suggest that Kashima's absence was a cause of the earthquake.
How might someone take advantage of the power of the deities? Good behavior was one obvious answer. After the 1847 Zenkōji earthquake, which resulted in thousands of Buddhist pilgrims dying in and around Zenkōji, a temple official speculated on the cause of the disaster. Was it because he had eaten fish or meat that evening, which the resident priest had been hiding? Perhaps defiling such a holy place had angered the goblins (tengu) or
Figure 6 Ruins of an offshore artillery battery (daiba or o-daiba), 2010.
Photo by MachineCitizen, Wikimedia Commons. mountain spirits? It was common, incidentally, to regard local spirits and supernatural creatures as advocating Buddhist values. In any case, morally good behavior, while certainly desirable, was only a start.
For many early modern Japanese, divine protection was an investment process. Devotional acts might pay good dividends, even in the short run. In the wake of the Zenkōji earthquake, for example, a tale circulated of a twenty-year-old woman who survived in a house buried under mud for some twenty days. Fortuitous circumstances of furniture placement provided her with air space and food, and she extracted water from the mud. The main reason she survived, however, was her constant intoning of the names of the kami and buddhas. In a more typical example from the Ansei Edo earthquake, the deity of Mt. Narita Fudō of Shimōsa saved the life of a man who relied on a protective amulet from the deity's shrine. In this case, the deity did not intercede in a dramatic manner but simply provided warnings that aroused the man's sense of caution. Presumably, the deity was powerful enough to know the earthquake was imminent. The majority of earthquake tales involving religious matters tell a similar story: a devoted follower of a particular kami, buddha, or bodhisattva survives the earthquake, and that survival is explicitly or implicitly attributed to the deity's assistance. It is a rather straightforward payback for those who invest in a deity in advance.
Manifestations of piety in the midst of a disaster might help, but an active investment of money or some other valuable resource in advance was the best way of purchasing divine insurance. Some investments, however, did not work out. According to one account, after the 1596 Keichō-Fushimi earthquake, Toyotomi Hideyoshi visited Hōkōji to check on a statue sixteen jō high (approximately forty-eight meters) of Rushana Buddha that he had erected there in 1588. He became angry at seeing the badly damaged statue, specifically installed to promote the prosperity of the state. Decrying the waste of time and money, Hideyoshi said to the statue, “Your big body is a disgrace. We should not trust this broken and useless buddha who cannot even protect himself!” He then shot an arrow into it, to the shock of those nearby. Sixty-six years later, following the Kanbun earthquake, Rain and
Shine Diary (Seiu nikki) repeated this tale of Hideyoshi's chastisement of the statue. Earthquakes were a supreme test of divine power, and not all the divinities passed.
It was common practice to seek talismanic protection amidst the stress of fires and aftershocks. After the main shock of the Kanbun earthquake, survivors copied sacred verses and affixed them to houses, gateposts, or roof beams. One verse invoked the comforting thought that we live in a sacred country (shinkoku) forged by the deity Izanagi. Another invoked Hachiman to protect the people. Asai Ryōi's Foundation Stone discussed these matters and similar religious lore. In one case, unruly mobs went to the Toyokuni Shrine, which had suffered no damage. They pulled up grass from the shrine's inner precinct and hung it from the eves of their houses as protection while aftershocks continued. Local officials conducting damage surveys chastised the residents of such houses, which caused visits to the shrine to drop off. At the same time, rumors about sacred horses swept through the city. Horses from the Iwashimizu Hachiman Shrine disappeared after the shaking, returning later covered with perspiration. Likewise, the horses of the Kashima Shrine in far-off Hitachi Province became agitated, disappeared, and returned on the fifth day of the month bleeding and perspiring. Shrine priests supposedly spread a rumor that the horses had taken part in a divine battle, of which the earthquake was a surface manifestation, and had returned victorious after defeating a Mongol army. Ryōi followed up on this rumor by ending volume 2 as follows: “At such times it is inevitable that there will be all sorts of rumors about things unseen and unheard. Those wise to the ways of the world will pay them no attention. Foolish women and children, however, shake with fear upon hearing such things, thinking that some big event has just taken place. Moreover, they become even more agitated upon hearing baseless popular explanations. Therefore, I conclude with these lines of verse: 'Danger, danger! I don't like thinking about earthquake rumors / They cause distress to high and low alike.'”  One of Ryōi's rhetorical strategies was to discuss a wide range of rumors, which readers probably would have heard, and then dismiss them.
Ryōi's skeptical attitude about rumors of supernatural events points to another possibility in reacting to earthquakes. Some early modern Japanese rejected or substantially minimized religious explanations of events in favor of what we might call rational or mechanistic explanations. A good example of an explicitly rational approach to earthquake-related phenomena is Jōtō Sanjin's Account of Broken Windows (Yabure mado no ki). He observed that the main buildings of many temples survived the shaking of the Ansei Edo earthquake with little or no damage. “Although people commonly attribute this result to supernatural intervention,” Sanjin observed, he rejected such explanations in favor of rational principles (kotowari). He explained that the four eaves of the support beams in the temples “naturally served to balance the structures,” so that despite the shaking they remained in equilibrium. For the same reason, Sanjin also rejected the explanation that intact bridges enjoyed divine protection. In addition to advocating a rational approach to interpreting earthquakes, Sanjin helped sow the seeds of a claim that developed during the Meiji period and retains currency even today: traditional wooden structures, especially temples, embody a native wisdom for earthquake-resistant building techniques.
There was no clear temporal dividing line, but by the late Tokugawa period, earthquake literature often contained skepticism about supernatural matters. Among the better-known works, the 1856 Ansei Record (Ansei kenmonroku) tends to treat natural forces in a mechanical, amoral manner. A tale of the death of a virtuous, filial daughter, for example, ends ambiguously. It points out that despite the adage that the workings of the heavenly way (tentō) reward goodness and visit calamities on what is evil, the daughter's case is an exception. The text speculates that what Buddhists call “residual karma” might be at work, but it takes no firm stance on this explanation. Ansei Record also discussed the widely circulated rumor that strands of hair from the white horse of the Ise Shrine, found lodged in people's clothing, protected common people during the earthquake. The authors affirm this rumor, and add, “From the beginning our country has been a land of kami (shinkoku).” They suspend judgment, however, on whether or not what people thought was hair was indeed that.
Their analysis begins with the mass pilgrimages to Ise in 1830 and the material benefits pilgrims supposedly received, such as free food, drink, and transportation, with no difficulties for anyone, even women and children. Then the text questions whether such a utopia is even possible. It mentions the rumors of amulets that supposedly fell from the sky at that time, none of which remained extant after the event. Although skeptical overall, the author of Ansei Record does not deny absolutely the possibility that the Ise Shrine provided assistance in the present earthquake. After all, it is the oldest shrine in “Great Japan,” going back thirty-seven hundred years.
The Ansei Record analysis does not stop there. It next mentions that in 1836, strands of hair were reported in Edo, which turned out to have been “malformed ki.” On the other hand, examples from Chinese histories of strange things falling from the sky such as blood, crops, meat, or dirt might suggest that falling hair is within the realm of the possible. In the case of the 1836 strands of hair, however, somebody consulted Western science books and examined the material under a microscope. In this way, he confirmed that the material was not hair, and he printed his findings as a broadside. Sure enough, the Ansei Record author had a copy at hand and reproduced its content. The “hair” in 1836 turned out to be small worms produced by strange atmospheric conditions. The worms were dispersed by the wind and fed on plants, thus contributing to the crop failures of the time. In the end, Ansei Record defers the current question of falling hair to a later scholarly investigation. Skepticism regarding supernatural phenomena and a tendency not to speculate beyond verified facts is typical of Ansei Record. It is interesting to note that falling white horsehair was mentioned in passing as early as 1596 in connection with the Keichō-Fushimi earthquake. Unfortunately, the temple document mentioning this phenomenon did not comment on its meaning or significance but simply listed the falling hair along with pebbles, sand, and dirt.
Satire and parody were common manifestations of religious skepticism in connection with the Ansei Edo earthquake. A popular print, for example, featured a parody of the Immovable Wisdom King, Fudō Myōō, at a kaichō, the revelation of a hidden deity to the public for an admission fee. In it, a man surrounded by flames and looking much like a wealthy merchant appears standing on the head of a giant catfish. He is Hijō Myōō (Emergency Wisdom King), and his two attendants consist of the dark figure of a child's charred body on one side and the iconic Sensōji pagoda with its bent spire on the other. The sign announcing the kaichō reads, “Opening the doors of storehouses” (Kura no kaihi), and the text explains that the earthquake has forced the wealthy to open their storehouses in the form of charitable contributions. The print features many other layers of meaning and plays on words, but its overall point is that the cosmic forces caused a redistribution of wealth in society. Interestingly, the origin story for the deity is based on the Heian-period rebel Taira no Masakado (“Matakado” in the print), who was a popular hero figure in Edo at the time. In this way, the print subtly acknowledges the potential for political upheaval in the earthquake, a potential that the redistribution of wealth effectively neutralized, as we will see in chapter 5.
A final point about religion is that a general tendency to suspect that earthquakes might be the result of divine punishment or warning was an ideal opportunity for certain kinds of social critics to amplify their messages. Conveniently, there was no need to posit any specific mechanism whereby a certain deity or group of deities caused or permitted the earth to shake owing to their displeasure. The simple fact that the earth had shaken destructively was sufficient to underscore critiques of society that ordinarily would receive little attention. The usual targets of such critiques were greed and luxury, not among rulers but among ordinary members of society. An early example comes from the Keichō-Fushimi earthquake. The Christian text History of the Western Teaching in Japan (Nihon saikyōshi) reported that some Japanese regarded warfare between the various kings of the Buddhist underworld or a battle between deities under the ground as having caused the earthquake. However, “in reality God [Tentei] has caused calamity throughout the country” as a manifestation of his anger at arrogance, licentiousness, and luxury.
In a similar spirit, the Sōtō Zen priest and poet Ryōkan was walking from Wajima Village to Sanjō when the Sanjō earthquake occurred. He composed two poems based on his thoughts and observations. Part of “Jishingo no shi” (Post-earthquake poem) says, Reflecting on the past forty years
The trend toward luxury in this world Has advanced like a galloping horse.
All the more so, because for so long there has been peace and stable government
The feelings of the people have slackened
. . .
People think very highly of themselves and regard deceiving others as great talent.
Like piling up mud upon earth
There is no end to their sordid deeds.
Luxurious living and stable political conditions have warped people's sense of ethics and duty, and Ryōkan implies but does not explain a link between this state of moral degeneration and the earthquake.
Perhaps the most important cultural product of the Sanjō earthquake was earthquake chants (kudoki). Starting in 1829, blind female musicians began to sing about the earthquake. A major theme was that those who have grown accustomed to material prosperity in a peaceful world and who are obsessed with a desire for private gain invite earthquakes: Thinking about it Society [shi-nō-kō-shō] Has forgotten the way of Confucius, the buddhas, and the deities Led astray by personal desires Regardless of high or low Haughtiness in the extreme Warriors abandon the arts of war Lining up their Pillows with merchants Petty officials Persecute those below And wallow in luxury.
After many verses explaining how bad things are, the final lines stress a positive note for the future, as if the earthquake has been both a price society has paid for its waywardness and an opportunity for its renewal. Although petty officials and warriors in general come under criticism in these chants, there is no specific critique of a domain government or the bakufu. From this point onward, moralistic chanted verse, both performed and written, spread throughout Japan in the wake of major disasters.
The content of this verse and other attempts to link earthquakes with alleged moral failings of society ranged widely. The most prominent theme, however, was the corrupting influence of material desires, manifest in such forms as greed, luxurious living, deceit, or arrogance. In contrast with postearthquake discourses of morality in Christian or Islamic contexts, briefly discussed in the introduction, issues connected with religious doctrine or sexual behavior were much less prominent in early modern Japan.
-  Kaibara Ekken, Kadōkun, Ekken-kai, eds., Ekken zenshū, vol. 3 (Ekken zenshū kankōbu, 1911), 452.
-  Print #134 in Miyata Noboru and Takada Mamoru, eds., Namazue: Shinsai to Nihon bunka (Ribun shuppan, 1995), 322; see also 10–11.
-  Ibid.
-  Ibid.
-  Kitahara Itoko, “Saigai to kawaraban: Sono rekishiteki tenkai,” in Kinoshita Naoyuki and Yoshimi Shunya, eds., Nyūsu no tanjō: Kawaraban to shinbun nishiki-e no jōhōsekai (Tōkyō daigaku sōgō kenkyū hakubutsukan, 1999), 32–33.
-  Satō Hiroo, Shinkoku Nihon, Chikuma shinsho 591 (Chikuma shobō, 2006), 69–73, and Kitai Toshio, Shinkokuron no keifu (Hōzōkan, 2006), 50–53.The Jōei Formulary (Jōei shikimoku) is more commonly known in Japanese scholarship as Goseibai shikimoku.
-  Nagura Tetsuzō, Fūshigan ishin henkaku: Minshū wa tennō o dō mieta ka (Kōsō shobō, 2004), 186–187.
-  One catfish print features a temporary brothel named Kannazukiya (House of the month of no deities). See print #116 in Miyata and Takada, Namazue, 314–315.
-  Sangawa Akira, Jishin no Nihonshi: Daichi wa nani o kataru no ka? (Chūōkōron shinsha, 2007), 169–170.
-  “Shinano bukō, chōshin hikan,” in NRJSS, vol. 3, 334.
-  “Ansei ni itsubōnen jūgatsu futsuka jishin no koto,” in NJS, vol. 5, supplement 2, part 1, 535.
-  “Chōsen Taiheiki,” in DNJS, vol. 1 (kō), 207; for other accounts of damage to temples, see 191–193. See also Sangawa, Jishin no Nihonshi, 95–96.
-  “Seiu nikki,” in NJS, hoi (supplement), 175.
-  “Kasubyōshi kan,” in DNJS, vol. 1 (kō), 253–254, and Asai Ryōi, Kaname’ishi (1662), in Taniwaki Masachika, Oka Masahiko, and Inoue Kazuhito, eds., trans., Kanazōshishū (Shōgakkan, 1999), 35.
-  Asai, Kaname’ishi (1662), 40–64, quoted passage, 64. See also Kitahara Itoko, “Saigai to jōhō,” in Kitahara Itoko, ed., Nihon saigaishi (Yoshikawa kōbunkan, 2006), 236–240.
-  “Yabure mado no ki,” in DNJS, vol. 2 (otsu), 555–556.
-  For modern permutations of the idea of native carpentry practices and architecture as resistant to earthquakes, see Gregory Clancey, Earthquake Nation: The Cultural Politics of Japanese Seismicity, 1868–1930 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2006).
-  AKR, vol. 1, 4–7 (jō no yon–jō no shichi). See also Arakawa Hidetoshi, ed., Jitsuroku, Ō-Edo kaimetsu no hi: Ansei kenmonroku, Ansei kenmonshi, Ansei fūbunshū (Kyōikusha, 1982), 29–34.
-  AKR, vol. 3, 13–16 (ge no jūsan–ge no jūroku). See also Arakawa, Jitsuroku, Ō-Edo kaimetsu no hi, 90–94, and Kitahara Itoko, Jishin no shakaishi: Ansei daijishin to minshū (Kōdansha, 2000), 188.
-  “Chōryūji monjo,” in NJS, hoi (supplement), 91.
-  Print #22, Miyata and Takada, Namazue, 138, 251–252. See also Wakamizu Suguru, Edokko kithsitsu to namazue (Kadokawa gakugei shuppan, 2007), 163–173.
-  DNJS, vol. 1 (kō), 203–205.
-  Quoted in http://bvd97629.niiblo.jp/e5571.html (accessed November 13, 2010). See also Sangawa, Jishin no Nihonshi, 158.
-  See NJS, hoi (supplement), 744–745 for other accounts of the earthquake expressed in moral terms. Tōka nendaiki, for example, describes the earth taking revenge on “parents who cast off their children and children who cast off their parents.”
-  “Echigo jishin kudoki, (accessed October 28, 2010). Quoted verses begin thirty-six lines down from the top. See also Hashimoto Manpei, Jishingaku kotohajime: Kaitakusha Sekiya Seikei no shōgai (Asahi shinbunsha, 1983), 40–41. In Hashimoto’s view, the earthquake was simply a vehicle moralists used to amplify their message.
-  “Echigo jishin kudoki,”. html (accessed October 28, 2010), and Saitō Masachi, Goze kudoki jishin no minoue (publisher unknown, 1829). See also Hashimoto, Jishingaku, 40–41, Sankawa, Jishin no Nihonshi, 162, and Gerald Groemer, Bakumatsu no hayari uta: kudokibushi to bushi no shin kenkyū (Meicho shuppan, 1995), 115–120.