The text in question was composed in Classical Chinese, employing Chinese characters, or kanji, as its primary script. Yet this description alone does not do justice to the subtlety of its form. Rather than simply adopting Chinese as a foreign literary shell, the compilers used it in a way that allowed the rhythms and sounds of early Japanese to be heard through the Chinese graphological veil. The result is a work that appears Chinese on the surface, yet carries within it the cadences of another tongue.

What makes this especially significant is the mixed method by which the characters were used. Chinese characters served not only for their semantic value, conveying meaning in the usual way, but also as phonetic symbols to represent Japanese sounds and grammatical elements. Through this hybrid method, Japanese names, terms, and structures that had no direct Chinese equivalent could still be faithfully recorded. The script thus became a kind of bridge, allowing an indigenous spiritual and mythic world to be preserved within an imported literary framework.

Seen from a spiritual perspective, this layered writing system mirrors the way traditions themselves often develop: an outer form borrowed from elsewhere, and an inner life that remains distinctly local and alive. The Classical Chinese language and kanji script form the visible vessel, while the Japanese sounds and expressions carried within them are like the subtle currents that give that vessel purpose and direction. In this way, the work stands as a testament to how a culture can honor what comes from beyond its shores, yet still let its own voice be heard clearly through the borrowed forms.