In the ancient days of Japan, long before the boundaries of human history were formally drawn, the realm of Ashihara no Nakatsukuni—the Central Land of Reed Plains—was a wild, spiritual landscape where gods walked the earth and the whispers of creation still echoed through the mountains and valleys. In the province of Izumo, there lived a young deity named Ōnamuchi. He was a son of the heavens, yet he possessed a quiet, introspective demeanor that contrasted sharply with the vibrant and chaotic spirits around him. Unlike the flashy and aggressive deities of his age, Ōnamuchi spent his days listening to the wind, observing the migration of birds, and tending to the natural world with a gentle touch. This sensitivity, however, was viewed as a profound weakness by his peers, most notably by his eighty brothers. These brothers, collectively known as the Yasogami, were proud, boastful, and fiercely competitive. They measured their worth by their strength, the sharpness of their weapons, and the number of servants they could command. To them, Ōnamuchi was an anomaly, an embarrassment to their divine lineage, and they lost no opportunity to mock him, treat him with disdain, and force him into a position of servitude within their household.
The tension between the brothers reached a peak when news traveled from the distant province of Inaba, an eastern region bordered by rugged coasts and dramatic sand dunes. Rumors spoke of a young woman of incomparable grace, wisdom, and beauty named Princess Yakami. It was said that her presence could calm the wildest storms and that her virtue was as pure as the mountain snows. For the eighty brothers, Princess Yakami was not merely a desirable bride; she was the ultimate prize, a trophy that would bring immense prestige, territory, and influence to whoever could win her favor. Each of the eighty brothers instantly resolved that he would be the one to marry her. There was no room for cooperation or familial love among the Yasogami; each harbored a secret desire to outshine and defeat the others. Yet, they agreed on one thing: they must journey together to Inaba to present their suits, and they would use the voyage as a grand demonstration of their collective power and majesty.
As they prepared for the long, arduous journey to Inaba, the brothers gathered their finest garments, their glittering jewelry, and their heavy ceremonial gifts. They packed massive chests with silk, polished stones, and bronze mirrors, intending to overwhelm the princess with their wealth. However, when it came to carrying these heavy burdens across the rugged mountain paths and sandy shores of the Japanese coastline, the brothers refused to soil their own hands. They turned their arrogant eyes toward Ōnamuchi. With sneers and mocking laughter, they demanded that their youngest brother act as their servant. They piled every bag, every trunk, and every bundle of provision onto his young shoulders, creating a mountain of luggage that dwarfed him. They laughed as they strapped the heavy leather harnesses around his chest, telling him that a weak, spiritless creature like him was only fit for carrying the baggage of real men. Ōnamuchi, refusing to spark a conflict that would bring shame to his family, quietly accepted the burden, bowing his head and stepping into the rear of the procession as they departed Izumo.
The journey was a grueling torment for Ōnamuchi. While his eighty brothers marched ahead in splendid array, their unburdened steps light and swift, Ōnamuchi struggled under a crushing weight that threatened to snap his spine. The heavy straps of the luggage bags bit deeply into his shoulders, leaving raw, bleeding welts. The dust kicked up by his brothers' heels filled his throat, and the scorching sun beat down upon his head. Step by agonizing step, he traversed the steep mountain passes, crossed rushing rivers, and pushed through dense forests. He fell behind almost immediately, his pace slowed by the massive load. His brothers did not wait; they only looked back to throw insults, warning him that if he lost any of their precious cargo, they would beat him mercilessly. Despite the agonizing pain and the profound loneliness of his position, Ōnamuchi did not allow bitterness to poison his heart. He walked with a steady, rhythmic breathing, focusing on the beauty of the earth beneath his feet, offering silent prayers to the spirits of the land to give him the strength to endure.