Of course one legendary insect tops them all, and its fame is such I don't think I have to elaborate on the particulars of the suzumebachi, aka Asian giant hornet, aka yak-killer wasp. People here speak of them like they're a myth. Nobody's ever been stung, but everybody knows someone who's been stung. The word on the street is that two or more stings is a life and death situation.
Since I came here last year, I've been eager to see one. Yesterday I finally did.
I'm on vacation in Kyoto at the moment, and thought I'd hike up one of the mountains on the periphery for a view of the city. On the way up the lonely, muddy trail (apparently all the ravenous tourists around here don't think to hike), I stumbled across this battered warning sign that seems to have fallen from its post.
It says "beware of suzumebachi" followed by what I presume is advice on what to do if you encounter one.
I probably should've tried to interpret it, but my only immediate thought was ｷﾀ━━━━(ﾟ∀ﾟ)━━━━ !!!!!
Not 30 seconds after I walked away from the sign I got my first glimpse of beezilla, yellow and menacing, at least the size of my thumb. I tried to take a picture as he landed on a stump, but he wouldn't hold still long enough and began flying circles around me. Sensing I may have acted foolishly, I skipped away to continue my ascent. Along with my unwelcome companion. I quickened my pace. So did he. Circling my head like a B-17 bomber, and about the same size. By now ｷﾀ━━━━(ﾟ∀ﾟ)━━━━ !!!!! had devolved into ガ━━━━(ﾟДﾟ;)━━━━ン！
I hastened my escape, but every time I slowed down to catch my breath - BUZZZZZZ - so I ran. And ran. Uphill. On a dark, muddy, desolate slope. I must've dashed at least three quarters of a mile, but my assailant was relentless and had the advantage of terrain and energy. When my sides hurt and I couldn't breathe I finally collapsed to accept my painful fate. There can be only one punishment for those who anger the hornet gods of old Kyoto. "There are worse ways to die," I reassured myself. I didn't even have the energy to wince in preparation for the inevitable spearing. But as I breathed my final short breaths, I heard something peculiar. Silence. My first thought was that he must have already landed, but I was already so sedated on the verge of a total blackout I decided I was ready for whatever might come. The blackout never came, but neither did the sting. By some miracle, I managed to shake him off mere yards before I could no longer move my legs.
So.
I'm gonna do it again.
