The Tale of Shoki Meiji: The Demon Queller of the Meiji Era

The streets of Tokyo bustled during the Meiji era-change was everywhere. The city buzzed with new ideas, technology, but with every piece of progress, there came new shadows, and in those shadows lurked fears and superstitions: spirits and demons were still believed to wander, causing mischief and misfortune.

One rumour spread along the high roofs and markets of a man whose face made others fear and show respect-a man known as Shoki Meiji, the Demon Queller. Shoki had not always been that figure of awe. His life started as Zhong Kui in far-off China; he was a brilliant scholar, but fate played him a cruel trick. His brilliance was overshadowed by his appearance; he was shunned, ridiculed, and finally denied his dreams of serving the emperor because his face was disfigured. In utter despair, he flung himself to death outside the imperial palace gates, his ambitions shattered.

But for Shoki, death was not the end. The sad tale of Shoki so moved the Emperor of China that this leader honored him in death by recognizing his potential and bestowed upon him a role far greater than any that could have been hoped for in life. Shoki swore an oath to hunt down evil spirits and became a relentless guardian against the dark forces that plagued humanity, hunting demons with a sword in hand, devouring them to protect the innocent.

Centuries later, Shoki's legend traveled east across the continent into Japan, his image embraced and his spirit invoked. During the Meiji period, with the shifting sands of tradition and modernity, Shoki Meiji found his place anew. He wasn't some vague legend but a protector roaming the streets, an everyday man during the day. Yet by night, he was a different story altogether: a giant of a man with a bristly beard and eyes that shone as bright as polished jade, a great sword strapped to his back.

Days were innocuous for Shoki Meiji, replete with the mundane. He was, by profession, a lowly seller of scrolls to the curious, containing tales of folklore and ancient wisdom. With his face scarred, like one of the commoners, and hidden beneath the brim of a wide hat, every night-when night fell-he would be the Demon Queller. He would venture down alleyways and temples, ears listening for whispers of those frightened, his eyes scanning for the sparkle of the supernatural.

One night, with the moon low and full, its silvery light spread like a wobbling jelly on the city, Shoki heard a cry from an alleyway the next street over. The voice was one of a small boy, shaking in terror. He said that he'd seen a shadow moving against the light, a shape that shouldn't have been, creeping along the walls. Shoki loomed near, his body tall, and the boy turned wide eyes to him, his face acknowledging the features he'd known from stories and rooftop warnings.

"The shadows took my sister," the boy sobbed, pointing a shaking finger into the dark.

Wordlessly, Shoki drew his sword. He could feel the weight of the air thicken as if something malignant had been there. As he stepped into the shadows, the world warped and twisted-the familiar alley became a maze of darkness. The demon lurched forward, snarling with fangs that dripped malice, its eyes coals of fire and its body writhing smoke.

But Shoki did not show a slightest hint of buckling. With a quick stroke, he struck his blade through the creature's form and divided it in two, the demon shrieking and whining until it dissipated into wisps of smoke. Behind it, the boy's sister was standing, frightened but unharmed.

Do not be afraid," Shoki said in a deep voice, "for so long as I am treading these streets, no oni will ever harm an innocent." 

He walked the children home, where their grateful parents bowed to him in thanks for the figure they had heard about only through legends. Shoki merely nodded wordlessly and tipped his hat before he vanished into the night.

As the quiet started to ensue and Shoki Meiji neared his humble stall, he arranged his scrolls in order once again as dawn approached. In the world at large, he was just another man. To the kinsfolk, though-to believers-Shoki Meiji was the silent guardian of Tokyo, the Demon Queller, a reminder that as modern as the world could get, the ancient promises of protection and righteousness would always hold good.

And so, Shoki Meiji remained ever watchful, his life one great trek amidst man and spirit, forever bound to his oath, forever guardian for those who needed him most.

A shibuichi tsuba of a startled Oni before a painting of Shoki Meiji