Books: Japanese Fairy Tales

Y >> Yei Theodora Ozaki >> Japanese Fairy Tales

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And here the father wept. He thought of how lonely the poor girl
must have been, and of all that she must have suffered under her
step-mother's treatment. His daughter steadfastly keeping her faith
and simplicity in the midst of such adverse circumstances--bearing
all her troubles with so much patience and amiability--made him
compare her to the lotus which rears its blossom of dazzling beauty
out of the slime and mud of the moats and ponds, fitting emblem of a
heart which keeps itself unsullied while passing through the world.

The step-mother, anxious to know what would happen, had all this
while been standing outside the room. She had grown interested, and
had gradually pushed the sliding screen back till she could see all
that went on. At this moment she suddenly entered the room, and
dropping to the mats, she bowed her head over her outspread hands
before her step-daughter.

"I am ashamed! I am ashamed!" she exclaimed in broken tones. "I did
not know what n filial child you were. Through no fault of yours,
but with a step-mother's jealous heart, I have disliked you all the
time. Hating you so much myself, it was but natural that I should
think you reciprocated the feeling, and thus when I saw you retire
so often to your room I followed you, and when I saw you gaze daily
into the mirror for long intervals, I concluded that you had found
out how I disliked you, and that you were out of revenge trying to
take my life by magic art. As long as I live I shall never forget
the wrong I have done you in so misjudging you, and in causing your
father to suspect you. From this day I throw away my old and wicked
heart, and in its place I put a new one, clean and full of
repentance. I shall think of you as a child that I have borne
myself. I shall love and cherish you with all my heart, and thus try
to make up for all the unhappiness I have caused you. Therefore,
please throw into the water all that has gone before, and give me, I
beg of you, some of the filial love that you have hitherto given to
your own lost mother."

Thus did the unkind step-mother humble herself and ask forgiveness
of the girl she had so wronged.

Such was the sweetness of the girl's disposition that she willingly
forgave her step-mother, and never bore a moment's resentment or
malice towards her afterwards. The father saw by his wife's face
that she was truly sorry for the past, and was greatly relieved to
see the terrible misunderstanding wiped out of remembrance by both
the wrong-doer and the wronged.

From this time on, the three lived together as happily as fish in
water. No such trouble ever darkened the home again, and the young
girl gradually forgot that year of unhappiness in the tender love
and care that her step-mother now bestowed on her. Her patience and
goodness were rewarded at last.

THE GOBLIN OF ADACHIGAHARA.

Long, long ago there was a large plain called Adachigahara, in the
province of Mutsu in Japan. This place was said to be haunted by a
cannibal goblin who took the form of an old woman. From time to time
many travelers disappeared and were never heard of more, and the old
women round the charcoal braziers in the evenings, and the girls
washing the household rice at the wells in the mornings, whispered
dreadful stories of how the missing folk had been lured to the
goblin's cottage and devoured, for the goblin lived only on human
flesh. No one dared to venture near the haunted spot after sunset,
and all those who could, avoided it in the daytime, and travelers
were warned of the dreaded place.

One day as the sun was setting, a priest came to the plain. He was a
belated traveler, and his robe showed that he was a Buddhist pilgrim
walking from shrine to shrine to pray for some blessing or to crave
for forgiveness of sins. He had apparently lost his way, and as it
was late he met no one who could show him the road or warn him of
the haunted spot.

He had walked the whole day and was now tired and hungry, and the
evenings were chilly, for it was late autumn, and he began to be
very anxious to find some house where he could obtain a night's
lodging. He found himself lost in the midst of the large plain, and
looked about in vain for some sign of human habitation.

At last, after wandering about for some hours, he saw a clump of
trees in the distance, and through the trees he caught sight of the
glimmer of a single ray of light. He exclaimed with joy:

"Oh. surely that is some cottage where I can get a night's lodging!"

Keeping the light before his eyes he dragged his weary, aching feet
as quickly as he could towards the spot, and soon came to a
miserable-looking little cottage. As he drew near he saw that it was
in a tumble-down condition, the bamboo fence was broken and weeds
and grass pushed their way through the gaps. The paper screens which
serve as windows and doors in Japan were full of holes, and the
posts of the house were bent with age and seemed scarcely able to
support the old thatched roof. The hut was open, and by the light of
an old lantern an old woman sat industriously spinning.

The pilgrim called to her across the bamboo fence and said:

"O Baa San (old woman), good evening! I am a traveler! Please excuse
me, but I have lost my way and do not know what to do, for I have
nowhere to rest to-night. I beg you to be good enough to let me
spend the night under your roof."

The old woman as soon as she heard herself spoken to stopped
spinning, rose from her seat and approached the intruder.

"I am very sorry for you. You must indeed be distressed to have lost
your way in such a lonely spot so late at night. Unfortunately I
cannot put you up, for I have no bed to offer you, and no
accommodation whatsoever for a guest in this poor place!"

"Oh, that does not matter," said the priest; "all I want is a
shelter under some roof for the night, and if you will be good
enough just to let me lie on the kitchen floor I shall be grateful.
I am too tired to walk further to-night, so I hope you will not
refuse me, otherwise I shall have to sleep out on the cold plain."
And in this way he pressed the old woman to let him stay.

She seemed very reluctant, but at last she said:

"Very well, I will let you stay here. I can offer you a very poor
welcome only, but come in now and I will make a fire, for the night
is cold."

The pilgrim was only too glad to do as he was told. He took off his
sandals and entered the hut. The old woman then brought some sticks
of wood and lit the fire, and bade her guest draw near and warm
himself.

"You must be hungry after your long tramp," said the old woman. "I
will go and cook some supper for you." She then went to the kitchen
to cook some rice.

After the priest had finished his supper the old woman sat down by
the fire-place, and they talked together for a long time. The
pilgrim thought to himself that he had been very lucky to come
across such a kind, hospitable old woman. At last the wood gave out,
and as the fire died slowly down he began to shiver with cold just
as he had done when he arrived.

"I see you are cold," said the old woman; "I will go out and gather
some wood, for we have used it all. You must stay and take care of
the house while I am gone."

"No, no," said the pilgrim, "let me go instead, for you are old, and
I cannot think of letting you go out to get wood for me this cold
night!"

The old woman shook her head and said:

"You must stay quietly here, for you are my guest." Then she left
him and went out.

In a minute she came back and said:

"You must sit where you are and not move, and whatever happens don't
go near or look into the inner room. Now mind what I tell you!"

"If you tell me not to go near the back room, of course I won't,"
said the priest, rather bewildered.

The old woman then went out again, and the priest was left alone.
The fire had died out, and the only light in the hut was that of a
dim lantern. For the first time that night he began to feel that he
was in a weird place, and the old woman's words, "Whatever you do
don't peep into the back room," aroused his curiosity and his fear.

What hidden thing could be in that room that she did not wish him to
see? For some time the remembrance of his promise to the old woman
kept him still, but at last he could no longer resist his curiosity
to peep into the forbidden place.

He got up and began to move slowly towards the back room. Then the
thought that the old woman would be very angry with him if he
disobeyed her made him come back to his place by the fireside.

As the minutes went slowly by and the old woman did not return, he
began to feel more and more frightened, and to wonder what dreadful
secret was in the room behind him. He must find out.

"She will not know that I have looked unless I tell her. I will just
have a peep before she comes back," said the man to himself.

With these words he got up on his feet (for he had been sitting all
this time in Japanese fashion with his feet under him) and
stealthily crept towards the forbidden spot. With trembling hands he
pushed back the sliding door and looked in. What he saw froze the
blood in his veins. The room was full of dead men's bones and the
walls were splashed and the floor was covered with human blood. In
one corner skull upon skull rose to the ceiling, in another was a
heap of arm bones, in another a heap of leg bones. The sickening
smell made him faint. He fell backwards with horror, and for some
time lay in a heap with fright on the floor, a pitiful sight. He
trembled all over and his teeth chattered, and he could hardly crawl
away from the dreadful spot.

"How horrible!" he cried out. "What awful den have I come to in my
travels? May Buddha help me or I am lost. Is it possible that that
kind old woman is really the cannibal goblin? When she comes back
she will show herself in her true character and eat me up at one
mouthful!"

With these words his strength came back to him and, snatching up his
hat and staff, he rushed out of the house as fast as his legs could
carry him. Out into the night he ran, his one thought to get as far
as he could from the goblin's haunt. He had not gone far when he
heard steps behind him and a voice crying: "Stop! stop!"

He ran on, redoubling his speed, pretending not to hear. As he ran
he heard the steps behind him come nearer and nearer, and at last he
recognized the old woman's voice which grew louder and louder as she
came nearer.

"Stop! stop, you wicked man, why did you look into the forbidden
room?"

The priest quite forgot how tired he was and his feet flew over the
ground faster than ever. Fear gave him strength, for he knew that if
the goblin caught him he would soon be one of her victims. With all
his heart he repeated the prayer to Buddha:

"Namu Amida Butsu, Namu Amida Butsu."

And after him rushed the dreadful old hag, her hair flying in the
wind, and her face changing with rage into the demon that she was.
In her hand she carried a large blood-stained knife, and she still
shrieked after him, "Stop! stop!"

At last, when the priest felt he could run no more, the dawn broke,
and with the darkness of night the goblin vanished and he was safe.
The priest now knew that he had met the Goblin of Adachigahara, the
story of whom he had often heard but never believed to be true. He
felt that he owed his wonderful escape to the protection of Buddha
to whom he had prayed for help, so he took out his rosary and bowing
his head as the sun rose he said his prayers and made his
thanksgiving earnestly. He then set forward for another part of the
country, only too glad to leave the haunted plain behind him.

THE SAGACIOUS MONKEY AND THE BOAR.

Long, long ago, there lived in the province of Shinshin in Japan, a
traveling monkey-man, who earned his living by taking round a monkey
and showing off the animal's tricks.

One evening the man came home in a very bad temper and told his wife
to send for the butcher the next morning.

The wife was very bewildered and asked her husband:

"Why do you wish me to send for the butcher?"

"It's no use taking that monkey round any longer, he's too old and
forgets his tricks. I beat him with my stick all I know how, but he
won't dance properly. I must now sell him to the butcher and make
what money out of him I can. There is nothing else to be done."

The woman felt very sorry for the poor little animal, and pleaded
for her husband to spare the monkey, but her pleading was all in
vain, the man was determined to sell him to the butcher.

Now the monkey was in the next room and overheard ever word of the
conversation. He soon understood that he was to be killed, and he
said to himself:

"Barbarous, indeed, is my master! Here I have served him faithfully
for years, and instead of allowing me to end my days comfortably and
in peace, he is going to let me be cut up by the butcher, and my
poor body is to be roasted and stewed and eaten? Woe is me! What am
I to do. Ah! a bright thought has struck me! There is, I know, a
wild bear living in the forest near by. I have often heard tell of
his wisdom. Perhaps if I go to him and tell him the strait I am in
he will give me his counsel. I will go and try."

There was no time to lose. The monkey slipped out of the house and
ran as quickly as he could to the forest to find the boar. The boar
was at home, and the monkey began his tale of woe at once.

"Good Mr. Boar, I have heard of your excellent wisdom. I am in great
trouble, you alone can help me. I have grown old in the service of
my master, and because I cannot dance properly now he intends to
sell me to the butcher. What do you advise me to do? I know how
clever you are!"

The boar was pleased at the flattery and determined to help the
monkey. He thought for a little while and then said:

"Hasn't your master a baby?"

"Oh, yes," said the monkey, "he has one infant son."

"Doesn't it lie by the door in the morning when your mistress begins
the work of the day? Well, I will come round early and when I see my
opportunity I will seize the child and run off with it."

"What then?" said the monkey.

"Why the mother will be in a tremendous scare, and before your
master and mistress know what to do, you must run after me and
rescue the child and take it home safely to its parents, and you
will see that when the butcher comes they won't have the heart to
sell you."

The monkey thanked the boar many times and then went home. He did
not sleep much that night, as you may imagine, for thinking of the
morrow. His life depended on whether the boar's plan succeeded or
not. He was the first up, waiting anxiously for what was to happen.
It seemed to him a very long time before his master's wife began to
move about and open the shutters to let in the light of day. Then
all happened as the boar had planned. The mother placed her child
near the porch as usual while she tidied up the house and got her
breakfast ready.

The child was crooning happily in the morning sunlight, dabbing on
the mats at the play of light and shadow. Suddenly there was a noise
in the porch and a loud cry from the child. The mother ran out from
the kitchen to the spot, only just in time to see the boar
disappearing through the gate with her child in its clutch. She
flung out her hands with a loud cry of despair and rushed into the
inner room where her husband was still sleeping soundly.

He sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes, and crossly demanded what his
wife was making all that noise about. By the time that the man was
alive to what had happened, and they both got outside the gate, the
boar had got well away, but they saw the monkey running after the
thief as hard as his legs would carry him.

Both the man and wife were moved to admiration at the plucky conduct
of the sagacious monkey, and their gratitude knew no bounds when the
faithful monkey brought the child safely back to their arms.

"There!" said the wife. "This is the animal you want to kill--if the
monkey hadn't been here we should have lost our child forever."

"You are right, wife, for once," said the man as he carried the
child into the house. "You may send the butcher back when he comes,
and now give us all a good breakfast and the monkey too."

When the butcher arrived he was sent away with an order for some
boar's meat for the evening dinner, and the monkey was petted and
lived the rest of his days in peace, nor did his master ever strike
him again.

THE HAPPY HUNTER AND THE SKILLFUL FISHER.

Long, long ago Japan was governed by Hohodemi, the fourth Mikoto (or
Augustness) in descent from the illustrious Amaterasu, the Sun
Goddess. He was not only as handsome as his ancestress was
beautiful, but he was also very strong and brave, and was famous for
being the greatest hunter in the land. Because of his matchless
skill as a hunter, he was called "Yama-sachi-hiko" or "The Happy
Hunter of the Mountains."

His elder brother was a very skillful fisher, and as he far
surpassed all rivals in fishing, he was named "Unii-sachi-hiko" or
the "Skillful Fisher of the Sea." The brothers thus led happy lives,
thoroughly enjoying their respective occupations, and the days
passed quickly and pleasantly while each pursued his own way, the
one hunting and the other fishing.

One day the Happy Hunter came to his brother, the Skillful Fisher,
and said:

"Well, my brother, I see you go to the sea every day with your
fishing rod in your hand, and when you return you come laden with
fish. And as for me, it is my pleasure to take my bow and arrow and
to hunt the wild animals up the mountains and down in the valleys.
For a long time we have each followed our favorite occupation, so
that now we must both be tired, you of your fishing and I of my
hunting. Would it not be wise for us to make a change? Will you try
hunting in the mountains and I will go and fish in the sea?"

The Skillful Fisher listened in silence to his brother, and for a
moment was thoughtful, but at last he answered:

"O yes, why not? Your idea is not a bad one at all. Give me your bow
and arrow and I will set out at once for the mountains and hunt for
game."

So the matter was settled by this talk, and the two brothers each
started out to try the other's occupation, little dreaming of all
that would happen. It was very unwise of them, for the Happy Hunter
knew nothing of fishing, and the Skillful Fisher, who was bad
tempered, knew as much about hunting.

The Happy Hunter took his brother's much-prized fishing hook and rod
and went down to the seashore and sat down on the rocks. He baited
his hook and then threw it into the sea clumsily. He sat and gazed
at the little float bobbing up and down in the water, and longed for
a good fish to come and be caught. Every time the buoy moved a
little he pulled up his rod, but there was never a fish at the end
of it, only the hook and the bait. If he had known how to fish
properly, he would have been able to catch plenty of fish, but
although he was the greatest hunter in the land he could not help
being the most bungling fisher.

The whole day passed in this way, while he sat on the rocks holding
the fishing rod and waiting in vain for his luck to turn. At last
the day began to darken, and the evening came; still he had caught
not a single fish. Drawing up his line for the last time before
going home, he found that he had lost his hook without even knowing
when he had dropped it.

He now began to feel extremely anxious, for he knew that his brother
would be angry at his having lost his hook, for, it being his only
one, he valued it above all other things. The Happy Hunter now set
to work to look among the rocks and on the sand for the lost hook,
and while he was searching to and fro, his brother, the Skillful
Fisher, arrived on the scene. He had failed to find any game while
hunting that day, and was not only in a bad temper, but looked
fearfully cross. When he saw the Happy Hunter searching about on the
shore he knew that something must have gone wrong, so he said at
once:

"What are you doing, my brother?"

The Happy Hunter went forward timidly, for he feared his brother's
anger, and said:

"Oh, my brother, I have indeed done badly."

"What is the matter?--what have you done?" asked the elder brother
impatiently.

"I have lost your precious fishing hook--"

While he was still speaking his brother stopped him, and cried out
fiercely:

"Lost my hook! It is just what I expected. For this reason, when you
first proposed your plan of changing over our occupations I was
really against it, but you seemed to wish it so much that I gave in
and allowed you to do as you wished. The mistake of our trying
unfamiliar tasks is soon seen! And you have done badly. I will not
return you your bow and arrow till you have found my hook. Look to
it that you find it and return it to me quickly."

The Happy Hunter felt that he was to blame for all that had come to
pass, and bore his brother's scornful scolding with humility and
patience. He hunted everywhere for the hook most diligently, but it
was nowhere to be found. He was at last obliged to give up all hope
of finding it. He then went home, and in desperation broke his
beloved sword into pieces and made five hundred hooks out of it.

He took these to his angry brother and offered them to him, asking
his forgiveness, and begging him to accept them in the place of the
one he had lost for him. It was useless; his brother would not
listen to him, much less grant his request.

The Happy Hunter then made another five hundred hooks, and again
took them to his brother, beseeching him to pardon him.

"Though you make a million hooks," said the Skillful Fisher, shaking
his head, "they are of no use to me. I cannot forgive you unless you
bring me back my own hook."

Nothing would appease the anger of the Skillful Fisher, for he had a
bad disposition, and had always hated his brother because of his
virtues, and now with the excuse of the lost fishing hook he planned
to kill him and to usurp his place as ruler of Japan. The Happy
Hunter knew all this full well, but he could say nothing, for being
the younger he owed his elder brother obedience; so he returned to
the seashore and once more began to look for the missing hook. He
was much cast down, for he had lost all hope of ever finding his
brother's hook now. While he stood on the beach, lost in perplexity
and wondering what he had best do next, an old man suddenly appeared
carrying a stick in his hand. The Happy Hunter afterwards remembered
that he did not see from whence the old man came, neither did he
know how he was there--he happened to look up and saw the old man
coming towards him.

"You are Hohodemi, the Augustness, sometimes called the Happy
Hunter, are you not?" asked the old man. "What are you doing alone
in such a place?"

"Yes, I am he," answered the unhappy young man. "Unfortunately,
while fishing I lost my brother's precious fishing hook. I have
hunted this shore all over, but alas! I cannot find it, and I am
very troubled, for my brother won't forgive me till I restore it to
him. But who are you?"

"My name is Shiwozuchino Okina, and I live near by on this shore. I
am sorry to hear what misfortune has befallen you. You must indeed
be anxious. But if I tell you what I think, the hook is nowhere
here--it is either at the bottom of the sea or in the body of some
fish who has swallowed it, and for this reason, though you spend
your whole life in looking for it here, you will never find it."

"Then what can I do?" asked the distressed man.

"You had better go down to Ryn Gu and tell Ryn Jin, the Dragon King
of the Sea, what your trouble is and ask him to find the hook for
you. I think that would be the best way."

"Your idea is a splendid one," said the Happy Hunter, "but I fear I
cannot get to the Sea King's realm, for I have always heard that it
is situated at the bottom of the sea."

"Oh, there will be no difficulty about your getting there," said the
old man; "I can soon make something for you to ride on through the
sea."

"Thank you," said the Happy Hunter, "I shall be very grateful to you
if you will be so kind."

The old man at once set to work, and soon made a basket and offered
it to the Happy Hunter. He received it with joy, and taking it to
the water, mounted it, and prepared to start. He bade good by to the
kind old man who had helped him so much, and told him that he would
certainly reward him as soon as he found his hook and could return
to Japan without fear of his brother's anger. The old man pointed
out the direction he must take, and told him how to reach the realm
of Ryn Gu, and watched him ride out to sea on the basket, which
resembled a small boat.

The Happy Hunter made all the haste he could, riding on the basket
which had been given him by his friend. His queer boat seemed to go
through the water of its own accord, and the distance was much
shorter than he had expected, for in a few hours he caught sight of
the gate and the roof of the Sea King's Palace. And what a large
place it was, with its numberless sloping roofs and gables, its huge
gateways, and its gray stone walls! He soon landed, and leaving his
basket on the beach, he walked up to the large gateway. The pillars
of the gate were made of beautiful red coral, and the gate itself
was adorned with glittering gems of all kinds. Large katsura trees
overshadowed it. Our hero had often heard of the wonders of the Sea
King's Palace beneath the sea, but all the stories he had ever heard
fell short of the reality which he now saw for the first time.

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