Myth of the Day: Raijin
Raijin, the formidable god of thunder and storms, commands the forces of nature in the intricate tapestry of Japanese mythology.
Region/Culture: Japan, East Asia
Mythos: Japanese Mythology
Primary Type/Nature: Gods and Deities
Mythical Attributes: God of lightning, thunder, and storms, wielding drums to create thunder and often accompanied by wind and thunder spirits.
Role in Mythos: Principal Shinto and Buddhist storm deity; controls the forces of weather, brings rain, and sometimes acts as a guardian or as a source of destructive storms.
Relation to Humans: Raijin is both feared and revered by people—his storms are dangerous and destructive, yet he is also honored as a bringer of rain and agricultural bounty. Rituals and prayers seek to appease him to avoid disaster and secure good harvests.
On humid summer nights in Japan, when the air feels charged and restless, there’s an old superstition that says you should hide your belly button or risk having it snatched away by the god who rides the thunder. That’s Raijin: wild-haired, muscular, eyes alight with something closer to mischief than malice, standing astride a bank of storm clouds. The sky is his stage. Suspended around him are drums painted with swirling tomoe symbols, and he wields his hammers like a conductor gone mad, pounding out a thunderous rhythm that shakes rooftops and rattles sleeping towns.
Raijin’s origins, like many of Japan’s oldest gods, are equal parts strange and severe. He was not so much born as he was erupted—one of a series of thunder deities that sprang forth from the decaying body of Izanami, the primordial mother, after her death in the underworld. Each region of Izanami’s body produced a different flavor of storm god: there was Fire Raijin, Soil Raijin, and Raijin the Roaring, among others. The story goes that Izanami’s husband, Izanagi, descended into the land of the dead, searching for his lost wife, only to be chased out by Raijin and a furious pack of demons for daring to look upon her ruined form. In this world, even thunder has a family and a grudge.
Not content to stay in one myth, Raijin drifts through Japanese stories as a troublemaker and, at times, a protector. There’s a favorite tale in which he is captured during a furious storm by Sugaru, the so-called God Catcher, who—rather than chasing Raijin with weapons or force—simply prays to Kannon, the goddess of mercy. Kannon intervenes, Raijin is subdued and brought before the emperor, and the god’s rebellious energy is redirected to rain and harvest, instead of ruin. This uneasy alliance between chaos and order is Raijin’s signature. In another story, he stands alongside his brother, Fūjin, the god of wind, as Japan’s last line of defense, unleashing typhoons against the Mongol fleets. His lightning splits the sky, his drums drown out the war cries, and invaders scatter, undone by a power as old as the islands themselves.
But Raijin isn’t just a force of nature. He is a constant presence in Japanese imagination and ritual—a god to fear when clouds gather, and a god to thank when the rice fields drink deep. His image glowers from temple gates, gold leaf and lacquer making his muscles shine, his wild mane frozen mid-whirl. Children are told to cover their stomachs when thunder rolls, a warning handed down through generations that’s less about physical threat and more about respect: never take for granted the god who brings both the storm and the rain.
As for his powers, Raijin commands the sky’s artillery. With a wave of his hand, he can summon peals of thunder, jagged forks of lightning, and rain that washes away drought or drowns entire villages. His drums are not just weapons—they’re instruments of balance, tipping the scales between famine and plenty. He is often accompanied by his brother, his son Raitarō, or the thunder beast Raijū, a creature of lightning that sometimes curls up inside sleeping humans (though, mercifully, not often).
And yet, for all his strength, Raijin is not invincible. He can be tricked, prayed away, and, in rare tales, bound by mortals or gods whose resolve outlasts the storm. What remains constant is his place at the edge of fear and hope: the promise that every storm will pass, and behind the thunder, something will grow.
Suggested Further Reading
The Book of Yokai: Mysterious Creatures of Japanese Folklore by Michael Dylan Foster
Tales of Japan: Traditional Stories of Monsters and Magic by Chronicle Books
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