Pathway to Japanese Literature

Author: Yamamura Murakumo

Author’s Preface

He waited with the children for the potatoes to steam;
he joyfully waited together…

I am the father of two children.
(There were three, but one emerged into this world of reality for merely three days—never touching sunlight—before returning to the eternal homeland.) Of course, I am but a father in name only to these innocent children, one who brings them nothing but shame.
No, I am not a father.
I am a friend.
I earnestly wish to be a truly good friend.

When I think of my children, I feel happiness.
I feel hope.
Only through children does the true meaning of human life become clear to me.

By thinking of and loving my children, I shall pass this life of mine—so filled with suffering—as pure and beautiful days.
This is a profound gratitude.

It was an evening at summer's beginning.
I went to visit Dr. K's young lady at St. Luke's Hospital in Tsukiji.
My own body fissured with deep cracks being what it was—I who meant soon to go seaward—this too made me think I should awhile avoid meeting the doctor.
Ah—that seeing her would prove final!

Alas, white lily.

Valley Lily.

Still dewy, it drooped heavily.

Wilted,

it lowered its neck.

The maiden

was being summoned away

Aia

Popeia

And then she went to heaven.

Dr. K and his wife never left her bedside, day or night.
They devoted themselves entirely to her care.
Dr. K told me earnestly then, "If it were something I could take upon myself, I would gladly do so in her place."
When I heard this, I clasped my hands together in my heart and bowed reverently to the doctor who had uttered such godly words.

This precious parental love that dwells on children!
For parents, could anything compare to their child?
Children are seeds of life, children inherit the earth, children are heaven's messengers.
They are love itself—and because these children exist, even in the darkest age, we find light in the future.

The pieces collected in this book are, with the exception of two or three, all works of my own originality.

I now present this book to the children of Japan, who are little brothers and sisters.
And.
I also earnestly wish for those who are parents and teachers of those children to read it.
The reason I say this is not merely because it is for the children, but because in these stories, I have earnestly attempted to address various issues concerning life, society, as well as fate and livelihood.

Most of these are stories I told our six-year-old Reiko—Chigusa having only just reached her first birthday and understanding nothing yet—at bedtime in the early evening.
With a good heart as both parent and friend.

Thou, go to the sea and cast thy hook.

First, take the fish thou hast caught,

If thou openest its mouth,

Thou shalt find one gold coin.

Math,.XVIII,27.

Table of Contents

Tale of the Sea

The Still-Living Sea Bass

The Bean in the Pod

The Dove Answered

Quarrel

Weaving Insects

Parrot

Death of a Mole

The Old Woman at the Tea Shop

The Song Mocking Crows

Stone Potato

Parent and Child

Tree and Tree

Duckling
Prayer of the Small Fish
The Old Tree of the Forest

Crow and Pond Snail

Good Friends

Zoo

Meadow Bunting

Melon Field

Crab

Frog

Wind

Horse

Mosquito

Mosquito

Flea

The Cicada Speaks

The Rabbit with the Cut Ear

The Pig Being Transported

The Life of a Horsefly

Thief

Land of Stars

The Sea Bream’s Child

Why Did Nonbē Stop Drinking That Sake?

The Secret Melody of the Hyacinth Bean

Tale of the Sea

In a certain rural village, there was a poor farmer.
They were a poor but kind and close-knit family.
On the lintel there, swallows had built a nest again this year and were raising four or five chicks.

That day, it had been raining since morning.

In the nest, the Mother Swallow, her neck buried deep in her chest feathers, lay still with eyes closed though not asleep when one of the chicks asked.

“Mother, what are you doing?”
“Huh? What’s wrong?”

They asked worriedly.

“I’m not doing anything at all.
“You see, I...
“I was just thinking, you see.”

Then another chick asked,

“What’s ‘thinking’?”

“Well… hmm, how should I put this? When you all grow big quickly, before terribly cold winds start blowing and snow begins falling in this country, we must return to our far, faraway homeland.”

“And to return to that far, faraway home in our homeland, we must make such a very long journey.”

“Now, if it were a place with forests or woods, that would be fine—but even when exhausted, we can’t rest our wings; even if our stomachs grow empty, there’s not a single thing to eat. We must fly day and night without pause over a vast, vast—truly enormous—sea that takes seven or even ten days to cross.”

“Oh!” The chicks exclaimed in surprise upon hearing that.

“That’s why those with weak wings or unfit bodies all end up pitifully falling into the sea and dying along the way.”

The quick-spirited one

“We should help them!” one interjected.

“But you see, that can’t be done.
Because every last one of them is barely managing on their own.
They’re all trying their hardest, you see.
If you try to help someone, you’ll have to perish together.
That would achieve nothing, you understand?
In that place, you truly can neither help others nor be helped.
It may seem utterly heartless, but it’s every self for themselves.
Each must fend for themselves.
There’s simply no other way, you see?”

“But if Mother can’t fly anymore, I don’t mind dying—I’ll help you.”

“Is that so? Thank you. But you see—when you’ve safely crossed that vast, deep-blue sea at last, and gaze out over it from shore, soaking in the sight… in that moment, you forget even the friends and relatives who’ve vanished along the way, and finally feel at peace. Ah, that joy…”

“I want to go see it soon!”

“I do too! Right, my chicks?”

“Yes! Yes!”
“We won’t leave anyone behind.”
“Every last one of us will go.”
“But mark this—you must grow big and splendid by then.”
“Robust bodies and strong wings!”
“Make sure you do.”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

The little beaks replied in unison.
The Mother Swallow could bear it no longer and, embracing them all together,
"How utterly adorable you all are!"

The Still-Living Sea Bass

Early in the morning, there was a man casting his line from the rocky shore.
As nothing would bite, he kept thinking of quitting—quitting altogether.
Then came a heavy tug on his line.

It was a sea bass.

His joy knew no bounds.
In haste, he stood up to return home carrying it.

Then the sea bass,

“Brother, where are you taking me?”

The sea bass called out.
It was still alive.
“Huh?!”
“To my mother.”
“My mother’s been a bit sick lately,” he said, though in his heart he could only clasp his hands together, thinking,“I’m sorry,I’m sorry.”

The fish,

“If I’m to be eaten regardless, entering the mouth of such a filial parent is what you’d call a blessing,” it rejoiced, closing those contemplative eyes forever.
And never again did they open.

The Peas in the Pod

Inside the pod were five peas.
And they got along well.
Today as well, they conversed amicably.

“The day we go outside seems to have gotten closer, doesn’t it?”

“How beautiful the world must be!”

“I want to see it soon!”

“Even when we go outside, let’s not forget how we grew up together here in this single pod, and stay good friends, alright?”

“Yes.”

One afternoon.
A curious snap sounded.
The pod split open.
The peas, clutching their ears, tumbled out onto the ground.

And then they were scattered.

The Dove Answered

The dove was hungry.
It was morning.
No sooner had it spotted a winged insect than it flew down from the roof into the garden and caught it.

Just as its beak drew near—

The winged insect

“Wait a moment,” it said.
“What do you want?”
“Yes.”
“What’s this business?”
“I’ll listen—go on and try telling me.”

The winged insect, under the painful claw, stammered in distress but resolved itself—
“Well… people out there call you things like the angel of love and the symbol of peace.”
“And?”

“Yet despite that, you are now trying to take my innocent life.”

“And then?”

“That is sheer lawlessness!”

“I see. Perhaps that’s true.
But I am hungry.
That’s why I eat.
This is natural, and also a right.”

“What?!”

“There’s no need to be so surprised.”
“That’s the proof all things are alive.”

Quarrel

A pumpkin and a melon grew in the same field.
The seeds were sown together as well.
And yet they were on very bad terms.

They grew larger day by day, and now became eye-catching enough to attract human attention.

One day, the tomboyish Melon hurled harsh words at Pumpkin.

“Hey.
“Hey there, spiral-faced young master over there.
“Ohohoho.”
“What’s with all the moping? Just give it up already, I tell you.”
“No matter how much you think about it, it’s unsightly.”
“For starters, with that ridiculous face of yours, it’s a lost cause anyway!”

Upon hearing this, Pumpkin flew into such a rage that he raised a stone-like fist and tried to leap at her, but the vines had tangled around his legs, leaving him unable to move.
In his frustration, his already demon-like face grew even uglier and turned bright red.
Shuddering violently, he tried to say something—"Umm, umm"—but could only writhe in frustration, unable to get the words out.

And finally,

“It’s only because it’s now that you can mouth off like this! You nun-faced hag!... When you were in bloom... What about those miserly, puny little flowers of yours, huh? The ones so tiny they looked like they’d disappear any second! Even then, we didn’t say a damn thing... brushed aside our own issues and forgot ’em. And after all that—you didn’t feel even a shred of shame?” he stammered through a jumbled comeback, finally pausing to gasp for breath.

Melon, hidden beneath the leaves, kept giggling incessantly throughout.

But Pumpkin was so bitter, so unbearably bitter, that night he waited until everyone had fallen asleep, pressed his cheek to the ground, and wept like a man as he cursed the Creator God.

Weaving Insects

Among insects, katydids were clever creatures.
Lately, on moonlit nights when days stretched long, they would weave diligently by moonlight and starlight until deep into the night when dew pooled thickly, mother and daughter working together.

The mother, being a parent, meticulously—

With a creak and a thud, she wove on, but the impatient daughter—

“Click-clack.”
“Click-clack.”
“Cli-click-clack,” she went, looking so very busy.

The field was a beautiful world where kikyo and ominaeshi bloomed in profusion.
In the shade of those grass leaves,
"Creak and thud."

“Click-clack. Click-clack.”

One time, from the direction of the forest, a single beetle came plodding along, belly nearly scraping the ground. Its wings had become so tattered that flying was out of the question.

When it spotted the weaving insects,

"My, you work so diligently every single day!" said the beetle.

"Yes, there's still no end in sight—and yet they say snow has already fallen on the distant mountains."

"My! The mornings and evenings have grown so cold lately, haven't they?"

“And you—have you made your winter preparations yet—”

“I suppose I must seek Mr. Ant’s assistance before that winter arrives.”

“What? That’s…”
“Well, the very absence of it is what’s so puzzling.”

“Oh dear—the sun has hidden behind the mountain ridge.”
“Then you should finish quickly.”

Along the path between the upland rice fields, hack-hack coughing all the while, where could the beetle be going?
Against the magnificent summer sunset that streamed golden hues across the sky, the solo virtuoso who had strained her silver-bell voice to sing her heart’s fill—the birds of heaven stayed their wings and lent their ears—ah, that this should be the fate of the young female musician once renowned in the sunset forest!

The mother and daughter exchanged glances, but neither said a word, their silence tinged with loneliness. Then, once the beetle’s retreating form had vanished completely, they set to weaving again with quiet diligence, not so much as glancing aside.

"Creak and thud."

“Click-clack. Click-clack.”

Parrot

Once there lived a quarrelsome couple.
Nevertheless, as they had no children of their own, they doted on a single parrot as if it were their own child.

That parrots mimic human speech is something everyone knows well.

Someone

When someone said “Good morning,” the bird too
“Good morning,” said the bird.

Then when night came and the lamp was lit, if someone said “Good night,” it would respond in the same way—
“Good night,” it chattered.
Truly, the parrot was a charming creature.

A guest came to their house.
Then the parrot

“You get one white melon, that’s all,” it said.
The guest

When the guest responded with a puzzled “Huh?,”

“I still get three bolts of cloth.”

They had no idea what was going on.
When they told the mistress, who had come out with tea, about it,

“Yes, it must be talking about the things the thieves took last night.”

When the guest returned,

“What a fool you are! You can’t even hold a secret conversation properly!” they scolded harshly.
The parrot grew flustered at being rebuked.
Likely thinking its mimicry was inept, it began chattering all the more incoherently from then on.
The more they scolded it, the more it prattled.

“Yes… last night… thieves… What a fool you are… One white melon… Three bolts of cloth… Can’t even have a secret conversation properly…”

The couple were greatly troubled.
And they took it to a bird seller and sold it, but that marked the end of their luck.
Due to the words from its beak, the two of them were finally captured and thrown into a dark, dark prison.

The Death of the Mole

As the mole burrowed steadily through the earth, it tapped its snout against something with a light clink.
Sweet!
Without even properly examining what it was, it quietly covered it with sand so as not to be noticed by its comrades and turned back pretending not to know.
It was planning to come back later and eat it all by itself.

On the way, he met a friend.

“What’s wrong?”

“Ugh, I’m blocked by a big tree root—it’s no good.”

Night fell.
He stealthily set out.
And then he looked and was startled.
"What the—"
"This is just a stone!"
"Darn, this is absolutely ridiculous!"

Just then, an ill-natured earthworm smoothly slithered out.

“No matter how you look at it, you can’t eat a stone.”
“Haven’t you had your supper yet?”
“Then I’ll kindly teach you.”
“Turn left here, then right, and a little further on is that crossroads where you and I met yesterday.”
“You’ll know what’s there when you go.”
“But you see, that thing’s alive—if you get close, you’ve got to pounce and kill it quick, or it’ll escape, understand?”
“Well then, goodbye.”

“Thank you very much, young lady.”
“I’ll repay you someday.”

The next morning.

When the farmer came to check the field, a large mole had been neatly caught in the mousetrap.

The old woman from the tea shop

At the Kannon on the cliff, there was a tea shop.
The old woman who lined up mandarins, eggs, cheap sweets and such, moistening shrine visitors' throats with bitter tea, was someone who had endured great hardship.

One day, a parent sparrow came to the front of that shop.

“You always care for the children when they visit,”

the parent sparrow expressed their gratitude politely.

The old woman assumed a suspicious expression.

“No.
It wasn’t me,” she said.
Hearing this, the child sparrow accompanying them spoke up: “But we received rice again this morning!”

“I have no memory of that.”

Though only a thin wisp of smoke rose from her stove, this elderly woman was honest and never wasted anything.
Thus, breadcrumbs and rice grains often became tokens of kindness for the sparrows.

That very night.

It is said that sparrows stealthily slipped into the old woman's dream, then took her to their own sparrow lodge in a bamboo grove far, far away, where they warmly, warmly entertained her.

A Song Mocking the Crow

Four or five sparrows were playing in the cool shade of a tree when a crow flew over from somewhere.

And “What were you doing?”

“We were telling stories. Interesting stories.”

“Hmm.”
“Well then, I’ll listen to one.”

“Why don’t you do something instead?”

“I don’t know any stories.”

“Then… hey, sing for us with that nice voice of yours.”

“A song?”
“Not my forte either.”

“Oh, you can’t do anything at all!”
“You really have neither a nightingale’s voice nor a peacock’s beautiful wings!”

As the crow fell silent with frightened eyes, the sparrows fled to the top of a tall pine tree while

Crow

“Crow
Of the wide world
Hated thing.
Today too, Crow was crying at the graveyard.
Caw, caw”

When the crow heard that, he couldn’t help but erupt.
“Hmph, you weakling! Then what can you lot do? You reckless fools!”
And he puffed up his shoulders and glared down at them.
“I’m strong!”

Stone Potato

The farmer’s wife was washing potatoes at the riverside.
A monk who looked like a beggar happened to pass by and saw those potatoes.

“Please give me about ten of those as alms,” he requested.
“I’m hungry.”

The farmer’s wife glanced up briefly.
But she did not even rise.
And

“No, no, you can’t eat these.
They’re stone potatoes,” she lied, not wanting to give them away.

“Ah, is that so?”

The monk did not insist further and disappeared as if vanishing into thin air.
Since the potatoes were fully washed, the farmer’s wife brought them home and put them into a pot to boil.
After a while, thinking they must be done by now, she took one out and bit into it.
It was hard.
Just like stone. After waiting a little longer, she took out another and tried it again.
Still hard.
No matter how long they boiled, they stayed stone-like and inedible.
She took them out of the pot and tried roasting them over fire this time.
No difference.
They only grew harder still.

Finally, the farmer’s wife grew angry and threw them all into the bamboo grove behind the house.

Then the potatoes
“Serves you right, you greedy wretch!
When we get angry and harden, this is what you get.”

The very next day, such a rumor suddenly arose.
That monk who had looked like a beggar the day before—it turned out he was now revered as a Living Buddha, the holy priest.

The farmer’s wife was utterly flabbergasted. But she thought, “It was a good thing I didn’t give those away.” And when she went out to the bamboo grove behind the house, there were the discarded potatoes—sprouting lush green buds.

Parent and Child

A mother horse and her foal were led to town by the farmer.
The mother horse was carrying a large load.

“Mama, where’re we goin’?”

“To town.”

“What for?”

“To carry this load.”

“What’s a town?”

“You’ll see when we get there.”
“Be good now, y’hear?”

Before long, they arrived in town.
At first, the foal was startled by the bustle, but everything it saw was so novel that it couldn’t contain its joy.

“Mama, what’s that? That thing coming with a honk honk?”

“That’s called an automobile.”

“Then what’s that? Look, the one hanging under the eaves of that house over there?”

“That one? It’s a medicine seller’s sign.”

“That one? What’s that roof shaped like a mountain?”

“A temple.”

“What’s that clattering sound?”

“They’re pounding rice at the rice shop. It’s the sound of a machine.”

“Then that one…”

“I don’t know anymore. We’ll be laughed at—hurry up and come along.”

“Ahh, here comes one of those things again, belching black smoke...”

“Oh, there it goes,”

The mother horse, thoroughly vexed by the commotion, began her journey home.
When they reached the town’s outskirts, the foal abruptly quickened his pace.
He was thinking how he wanted to hurry back and demand milk.

“Hurry up, Mama.
Mama, I said!
You’re just dawdling and nibbling grass all along the way!”

But the pitiful mother horse was already terribly exhausted.

The moon came out.

The farmer with a faint, strained smile had now become thoroughly good and did not utter a single word of reproach.

"Oh! Oh! I can see our house's light.
We're almost there.
Mama."

Tree and Tree

Old Tree

“All these years I’ve grown old at this treetop—who knows how much rain and wind I’ve shielded you from, how fiercely I’ve fought them? And you have grown indeed.”

Young Tree

“Now you do nothing but block my sunlight—it’s intolerable.”

Duckling

While the duckling was playing in the rice paddy, a wild goose happened to pass by there.

“Hey there, wanna come with me?”

“Where to?”

“Hmm, where to? My hometown, see.”
“There’s loads of fun stuff there!”
“And delicious food too—”

“For real?”

“I’m tellin’ ya it’s true!”

“Then take me with you!”

“Sure thing, but can you fly?”

How could a duck ever fly in the sky?
Nevertheless, it tried desperately to leap up and fly, but no matter how hard it tried, it couldn’t manage, so it started crying and returned to the shed while weeping.

The wild goose laughed and went away.

After returning to the shed，it continued crying loudly，＂Mama，why can’t I fly like that wild goose？ Give me wings like that too！＂

The parent duck turned away and pretended not to hear，but their eyes were filled with tears．

――From “City and Countryside”――

The Prayer of the Small Fish

Because the drought had persisted for so long, the water in the marsh had nearly dried up.
The small fish, worried, earnestly prayed to the mountain god, vowing to fast until the rain fell.

Did the god hear their prayers?
The rain fell.

Before the marsh could dry up completely, the rain fell, but before that rain could stop, all the small fish had starved to death.

The old trees of the forest

In the shrine's forest stood many old trees.
Most of them were pine trees.
From their lofty perch atop the mountain, they glared down at their surroundings and were always mouthing off about this or that.
If it was hot, it was hot.
If it was cold, then it was cold again.

The sly crow knew this all too well.
That’s why it would sometimes rest its wings for a bit on their heads and shoulders.
Or perhaps, when it tried to ask for a night’s lodging, first—

“What dreadful weather this is. To have this blazing sun come day after day without respite—why, it’s simply unbearable, isn’t it?”

Or if it happened to be raining,

“What troublesome rain this is.
This rain’s so bad it’ll rot your guts right through!”

When the old trees heard this,

“That’s right, that’s right.”
“Well now, this calls for action!”
Yet despite this, they never did a single thing.
They merely chattered away.
They likely couldn’t even act.
For their roots had grown too deep and wide, leaving them utterly immobilized.

The crow, however, inwardly flicked out its red tongue.

"This lot here—they sure do take after some humans."
"If it were something decent, that’d be one thing, but since it’s all worthless nonsense, it’s downright unbearable."

Crow and Marsh Snail

On a splendidly long spring day, the marsh snail that had crawled out of its hole was taking a nap in the rice paddy.
The crow spotted it and came over.
Still smarting from losing a fight to a kite at the shore, in a fit of frustration, the crow swooped down and suddenly gave it one sharp peck.

“Ouch!”

Peck, peck, peck—the relentless cruelty continued.

"It hurts!"
The marsh snail screamed, "Please forgive me!"
The Japanese tit in the thicket overheard this,

“Brother, what are you doing? To subject someone to such cruelty—isn’t there a saying that we’re all living beings?”

Then the crow—

“What’s that? Huh? Shut your trap! You blabbering brat!”

"But you know... there's that saying about us all being living creatures—"

"Yeah, shut up!" snarled the crow, lunging before the words had fully left his beak.
But the Japanese Tit was nowhere to be seen.
Damn it!
Not only that, but when he looked for his long-awaited feast, the marsh snail had already slipped cleverly into its hole during the commotion.
Then it poked its head out from the hole's edge.

"Hey, over here!"

Good Friends

Two horse drivers started quarreling.
On the sandy ground of the thoroughfare, they tumbled over each other, like dumplings in sweet bean paste.
And both parties became covered in mud, until eventually blood began to stream out.

One of the horses remarked, “They’ve started again, haven’t they?”

The other horse replied, “Yes… What a fine show.”

“And yet they still go around boasting about being the lords of all creation sometimes.”

“They’re truly heartless when it comes to us.”

“I didn’t notice at all—what on earth started today’s quarrel?”

“Don’t you know? It’s over the bill for the liquor they drank. ‘Because I treated you once last Bon festival,’ that drunkard of mine is saying, ‘you should pay for today’s.’”

“Well then, your guy’s no better either.”

“Hmm, in that case, he’s saying, ‘Then maybe I should report to the police how you stole that Nankin rice on the way the other day.’”

"My, my. How shameless they are, don't you think?" And then, half to himself: "Even though they're the ones doing it every day themselves."
"Are all humans like this?"
"Hmm."
"That's right—it's dragging on quite a bit, isn't it?"

“What do you think of that spectacle?”

The quarrel did not cease immediately.

The horses remained amicably side by side, chewing roadside grass, while the two men—half-dead as they clambered into their respective carts—continued exchanging harsh words until parting ways east and west.

“Goodbye.”

“Well then, take care.”

The kite that had been watching this from the vast sky
“This is what they truly mean by ‘above humans, below horses.’”
It let out a long, drawn-out yawn—“Pii-hiyoro.”

Zoo

There were many animals at the zoo.

On a certain summer day, a Kamchatka-born white bear emerged from the water, yet sweat poured down as it—

"How about it, Mr. Elephant," he called out. "Isn't it hot?"

The elephant replied,
"Huh? What's that? I'm practically freezing here, Mr. Bear.
Now mind you,I've gotten somewhat used to it,but when I first came here from the South Seas—it was still lingering summer heat back then—why,I'd be shivering and shaking like this every single day."

"Huh."

The passage of the seasons turned until winter arrived, and even snow began fluttering down.

One morning, this time the elephant
“Mr. Bear, how about today?
Sing me a song about the snow.
I’m just worried I’ll turn into a block of ice or somethin’ if I don’t watch out.”

“After going through all that trouble, you ought to take proper care of yourself.”
“We’ve finally been revived thanks to this, you see.”
“It was as if we’d turned into blazing fires or something.”

“Hmm.”

“Mr. Elephant,”
“Huh?”
“What karmic fate brought us here, I wonder—both of us.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I mean? Well—look at us stuck here like humans who’ve done something wrong! Everyone you see is shut up behind iron bars, or else wire fences, wooden palisades, stone chambers, plank walls and such. And on top of that, they’ve even gone to the trouble of clamping heavy iron shackles around your ankles all year round!”

“Mr. Bear,”
“What is it?”
“How heartless can ya get? I... Back home I’ve got family—parents an’ siblings—but my father was already old, so he might’a died by now.”
“As for me, well—durrin’ the day I manage t’blend in with the crowds an’ forget, but at night I find myself reflectin’ deep-like.”
“My wife an’ children... wonderin’ how they’re doin’, y’know.”

The elephant and the bear, being close friends, would occasionally engage in such sorrowful conversations and lament their shared misfortunes.

All the other animals too were doing nothing but weeping in the same manner.
Truly, the zoo was a prison for the animals.

However, the cunning monkeys alone—despite lazing about idly every day without any work, yet never going hungry for it—wore carefree expressions, becoming playthings for human children and always chattered noisily.

Hōjirochō

A lazy farmer, one morning, had unusually woken up early and was sowing seeds in his field.
When Hōjirochō noticed this,

“Old man, good day,” said Hōjirochō.

The farmer looked up with sleepy eyes.

“Oh, I thought it was someone else—it’s just you.”
“You’re up early too, huh?”

“Huh? Old man, this is what you call early?”
“I’ve already sung a hundred times!”

The slightly indignant farmer

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s nothing. Well, I’ll be excusing myself now and think I’ll go have some tea or something.”

The Melon Field

“Shh! Here they come.”

The melons, which until now had been lazily rolling about and engaging in innocent small talk, all at once fell silent and held their breath.
They all feigned sleep.

The old woman that day again happily inspected the field, sliced off one large, sweetly ripe melon with her knife, and then, cradling it as if it were precious, carried it home.
Then, once again, whispered conversations began here and there.

In the distance,

“It’s gotten quite hot, hasn’t it?”

[Here]

“Yes.
Our lives are all steadily growing shorter by the day.”

“What?!
They say another one was killed today.”

Somewhere, someone was humming a tune.
Then, just as suddenly: “Who’s there sobbing quietly over there?”

“There’s no need to fret so much.”

“Hmm.”
“You damn fool!”

“Namu Amida Butsu.”
“Namu Amida Butsu.”

Crab

The parent crab, watching the child crab crawl, made a bitter face and said:
“Well now... What sort of walking is that?”
“How unsightly!”

“How should I walk?”

“Straight ahead.”

The obedient child crab attempted as instructed.
But no matter how it tried, it simply couldn’t manage.
So,

“Please show me how to walk.”

“Alright, alright.”
“This is how you walk.”

The parent crab began to walk.
Then, this time, the child crab clutched its belly and burst out laughing.

“Well then, you’re walking sideways too!”

Frog

Into the beautiful algae of the pond, the female frog laid eggs.
The male frog saw this and, leaping up joyfully, declared,“My wife has laid crystal balls!”

They gradually changed, and tails emerged.
They became tadpoles.
When the male frog saw this, he flew into a rage like a madman.
He thought she had given birth to catfish young.

At last, they underwent a complete transformation: legs formed, their tails fell off, and they became small yet splendid frogs.
The male frog gazed intently at his offspring and muttered complaints: "Huh. I thought some remarkable creature would be born, but they're just ordinary frogs after all."

(From "Fairy Tale World" collected nursery rhymes)

Wind

“What a stingy wind! If you’re going to blow, then blow properly like you mean it! In this heat. Just look at this sweat—see? It’s practically streaming down!”

The wind chime tinkled drowsily and swayed at that moment.

“Honestly! This certainly can’t be called a good wind. Honestly!”

Overhearing this, Wind grew indignant. “You spineless lot! Then shall I blow up a proper storm like on the 210th day two years ago?!” it nearly roared, but upon remembering these were mere predictable humans, Wind strode off in silence—long steps never glancing back—toward the open fields and mountains.

Horse

It was a scorching hot day.

When the horse driver arrived at the front of the village liquor store, he stopped his horse.
As usual—and with a grin—he entered the place, plopped down heavily, and began tilting back a large cup of cold sake with apparent relish.
One cup after another.
He would drink until his belly sloshed full.
Then when drowsiness came, he let out a belch like vomiting rainbows and flopped down to nap.
And thunderous snores.

The horse-drawn cart was heavy.
It was a mountain of a load.

Exposed to this scorching sun, unable to move forward or be turned back, idly waiting for the drunkard’s uncertain awakening, the horse flicked its tail at horseflies and flies while thinking.
As he thought this, he grew deeply sad.

What a life this was—my parents hadn’t given birth to me just for hauling carts from dawn till dusk like this! What would humans say if they saw their own children suffer so?

The horse wanted then and there to die—to vanish without trace! To perish and glimpse somewhere his heartless master startled into weeping apologies!

Yet he quickly reconsidered.

“We’re all fragile creatures whose lives might end tomorrow.
“It’s better to do everything while one still can—and also to make them do it while they still can.”

Mosquito

One night, a mosquito strayed into a mosquito net.
When everyone had fallen asleep,

“How about this? I must be the luckiest fellow alive!”
“Tonight, I’ll finally get to drink my fill of delicious fresh blood to my heart’s content!”

And he whispered to his friends outside.

“You must be envious.
But this is divine favor—no matter how much I try to let you all in, it’s no use.”

There lay an adorably plump, chubby baby, cradled by the mother and sleeping peacefully.
When a mosquito bit that plump cheek, the infant awoke and began to cry.
Smack!
A loud hand slap sounded.

With a buzz, the mosquito managed to escape, but now found this cramped mosquito net utterly terrifying—so terrifying it couldn't bear it.

At that moment, the golden beetle perched on the lampshade said in a prophetic tone:

"Foolish creatures! Hasn't the autumn wind already risen? Whether you starve or gorge yourselves—what does it matter? Fate binds us all as one."

Flea

A single flea turned deathly pale and fled into the garbage between the tatami mats. And then it collapsed right there.

The friends who had been napping were startled,

“Hey, what happened?” they gathered around.
“Again.”
“It’s because you went out for something like daytime work.”
“Hang in there, hang in there!”

Among them, the one who appeared to be the eldest

“Well, at least you’re unharmed.”
“Humans!”
“How many of our comrades have those bastards killed already?”
“What are you saying if you won’t even call them our mortal enemies?”
“Not just in this world—we must be reborn to strike down these enemies!”

Then another one asked, “Reborn as what?”

“As humans,” came the reply.

“Then what about humans?”

“It’s obvious they’d become fleas too—ain’t that right?”

At that moment, a woman’s voice

“Ugh, how utterly infuriating!”
“Again.”
“Don’t let it get away!”
“It’s because you’re spacing out!”

That flea eventually regained its breath.

“Oh! That was close,”
“Even a tiny one—it’s the only life you’ve got.”
“Close call.”
“Dangerous.”

The cicada said:

At the wealthy household’s seasonal airing, the grand mansion overflowed in every room, spilling into the garden where radiantly fragrant garments of every hue shimmered amidst green trees.

Amidst them all, an especially splendid full-stitch patterned ceremonial kimono glimpsed through a fence gap—catching sight of sun-bleached single-layer robes hung in the impoverished neighbor’s backyard, patched here and there on the laundered cloth.

“Everyone, please do look at that.
“Could those even be called garments?
“Though they’ve nothing to do with us—they’re garments, and we ourselves are garments too—somehow I feel utterly ashamed before society.”

“What did you say?”
Once those words were overheard, there was no containing it.

“Say that shit one more time.
“I won’t let this damn lump of vanity get away with it!
“What’s wrong with being poor?
“Even lookin’ like this, I ain’t never once squatted in your bastards’ kitchen dirt floor beggin’ for scraps.
“Keep flappin’ that big mouth too much, hey—better watch yourself on dark nights.”

This was another voice like a thunderclap.
The Cicada Philosopher, who had stopped singing earlier and had been listening with bated breath to see what would happen, found the vicinity returning to its original tranquility.

"I simply can't comprehend this quarrel.
Ceremonial robes are fine as ceremonial robes, aren’t they?
And single-layer robes are fine as single-layer robes, aren’t they?
Ceremonial robes are ceremonial robes.
Single-layer robes are single-layer robes.
No matter how splendid ceremonial robes may be, they cannot serve as single-layer robes.
The same goes for single-layer robes.
Ceremonial robes are ill-suited for that role.
The former scorns him, and he resents the former.
How can such a thing be permitted to exist in this world?"

And finally, as if thoroughly convinced, he added:

“Know thyself” (汝自身を知れ) is truly an eternal golden maxim.

The Rabbit with Cut Ears

The mountain rabbit went to the village festival at the foot of the mountain.
Being a fashion-conscious young doe, her preparations took nearly half a day: descending to the mountain stream to gaze at her reflection, meticulously grooming each and every strand of fur with grass until it gleamed.

“What lovely fur you have,” said the cat, who had been the first to notice it, sounding envious as it offered this initial praise.
The dogs, foxes, and field mice all

“That’s so true,” they agreed.

The rabbit was so happy she could hardly contain herself.
Then the cat again

“But really, those ears are too long, aren’t they?” remarked the cat, scrutinizing her closely.

Upon hearing this,

“Now that you mention it, that’s true.”
They all chimed in unison.

The rabbit was struck by this observation.
She examined everyone’s ears.
Then she felt her own.
They were indeed long!

Without delay, she visited the barber and had them severed at the roots.
When she emerged, passersby pointed and laughed.

“Goodness—a rabbit without ears!”

“What a wretched cripple, don’t you agree?”

Any thought of enjoying the festival vanished.
Weeping bitterly, she fled back to the mountains.

When she returned to the mountains, parents and siblings—and of course friends too—were utterly astonished.
And so, this pitiful rabbit became a laughingstock for the rest of her life.

The Pig Being Transported

The pig that had always been confined to a filthy little pen behind the storage shed was one day loaded onto a cart.

This pig was a dreamer.

"What a turn of events!
The weather was excellent—a blue sky just like this.
And so I was loaded onto the cart—and atop it, this meticulously prepared cage to keep other beasts from growing envious.
Humans were truly remarkable—a bit cramped to be sure, but there was a certain elegance to it that felt rather amusing.
Oh! I could see the sea! Oh! Oh! A ship! A ship!
What a thing this was!
They were bringing the children along too, weren't they?
How delighted they must be—oh! Oh! A train! A movie band! We'd finally come to town.
Oh! So they really were bringing the wife and children along after all?
What was that over there?
That might be the king's palace. I was probably headed there.
The king had surely summoned me.
What should I say first when having the honor of meeting him?
That was it.
'My master is greedy and doesn't feed me or my children decent food; I'd like you to sternly reprimand him with your royal authority.' And then next..."

With a clatter, the cart came to a stop.
The pig, startled, snapped back to himself and looked up.
There hung a large sign that read "Prefectural Livestock Slaughterhouse."

The Life of a Horsefly

Under the blazing sun that scorched the heavens, a cow stood motionless, deep in thought.
A horsefly came flying from somewhere and buzzed noisily around it.

The commotion had grown too much; even the patient cow seemed to have reached its limit.

“Shut up! Go away for a bit,” he said.
Mr. Horsefly paid no heed to this and buzzed around even more frantically, summoning other flies to join him.

“Shut up already!”

“Huh?”

“Can’t you just go somewhere else already?”

“Why?”

“Because you’re annoying!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

But he showed no sign of moving.

“Hurry up and go!”

“I’ll go. But you see, old man, this isn’t a world that belongs solely to you.”

“That’s true.”

“Then there’s no need for you to keep nagging so much, is there?
“Isn’t that right?”

The cow fell silent.
The horsefly continued unabated.
And then it made the other party extremely angry.

Once again, even so, the cow—

“Please, I beg you, keep quiet,” I pleaded.
It seemed to have grown quiet.
Then this time, that horsefly began jabbing its silver spear-like stinger into my fattened body—jab after jab—without any restraint.

My patience had reached its limit.
Still, it didn’t come to using my strong horns.

With a swish of its tail, the horsefly was splatted across the broad belly and crushed into a pulpy mess, dying.

The horsefly had only been alive for a few days.

And this was its brief life.

Thief

A thief broke out of prison and escaped.
Relying on the moonlight, he hid in a deep ravine barely accessible within the mountains' deepest recesses.
It was no ordinary effort.
There, utterly exhausted like cotton, he fell asleep.
He spread grass, used a stone as a pillow, and slept soundly.

Morning.

Lord God beheld this scene.
What a haggard sleeping face this was.

"Oh, my child," He spoke, and let fall a single sacred tear—precious beyond mortal knowing.

The early-rising stoker who had been watching this scene also found himself involuntarily weeping in sympathy.

Land of Stars

In the mountains, there was an old pond.
There, a family of frogs lived and dwelled without any hardship.

One day, Wood Owl came to drink water and encountered one of those frogs.

“Hey, it’s been a while, hasn’t it, Mr. Frog?”

“Mr. Wood Owl? Where have you been?”

“I got so bored of staying in one place that I’ve been flying all over ever since then.”

“Oh,”

“Got any interesting stories?”

“That’s what I ought to be saying.”
“We’re born here and die here—that’s how it is for us.”
“Won’t you share at least one travel story with me?”

“Nothing particularly stands out… Everywhere’s much the same, you know.”
“…But getting invited to that Land of Stars and being hosted by the lovely Evening Star-sama that night—that alone was the one great honor of my entire life.”

And then, Frog cut in,

“You can call me a country bumpkin all you want, but I won’t swallow your tall tales.”

“What tall tales?”

“What’re you on about? You can’t even dive underwater.”
“The Land of Stars—”
“It’s right at the bottom of this pond!”

“Huh?”

“You still saying that ain’t a lie?”

Then Wood Owl said,

“Mr. Frog, what on earth are you saying? The Land of Stars is up in these trees, even higher up in the lofty heights of the sky, I tell you.”

“Then are there two of them?”

“There aren’t two! Only the one in the sky!”

“There’s no way that could be true!”

“What a fool.”

“Which one of us is?”

Neither abandoned their convictions.
Before long, the sun sank completely, and the moon appeared.
The stars came out as well.

Frog, frustrated,

“Look! Isn’t that proof enough? See for yourself!”
“The bottom of the water…”

Wood Owl said,
“I see.
But look up there—what’s that?”

“Oh!” exclaimed the frog in surprise.

All of a sudden，the pond grew tumultuous.
The fish began their usual dance.
At this sight，they became so elated they nearly leapt upward，forgetting everything completely…

Wood Owl
“Hoo-hoo! Hoorosukeho!”
The Frog also joined in.
“Ribbit-ribbit-ribbit-ribbit!”

The Young Sea Bream

One day, the young sea bream

“Father sir, I humbly request a brief leave of absence,” he timidly approached his father and pleaded.
And in his heart, he hoped he would grant it.

Father Sea Bream heard this,

“Oh, what dost thou intend to do with this leave thou hast requested?”

“Yes, I intend to set out on a journey.”

“Hmm, a journey…”

“Yes.”

“Where to? And what purpose takes you there?”

“Yes.
“I have come to realize how utterly lacking I am in wisdom.”

“And so?”

“And so, I now wish to journey through the vast world and see and hear ever more of its manifold things.”

“That may be well.
“Yet lowly though thou art, thou art of the dignified station that must succeed this father—king of the fish tribe—when I depart this world.
“Thou must never act recklessly.
“Art thou clear on this?”

“Yes.”

“Once thou understandest that, I shall leave all to thy discretion.”

The first journey of the young sea bream since birth!

Setting out alone without attendants, the first seven or ten days were filled with novelty and delight, but as days passed, countless hardships and sorrows began lying in wait everywhere, surrounding and assailing him.

“I am the child of the Sea Bream King.”
“How dare you act so rudely!”

Then the Shark shouted, “Hey everyone! Come take a look at this lunatic!”

The Sawshark

“Brat! You some kinda lost brat? Where’d you crawl from? Or maybe you got someone comin’ to look for ya?”

The Young Sea Bream seethed with frustration, turning as red as flame. But he was also terrified, stiffening like ice and trembling uncontrollably.

He had had enough of this journey. When he thought this, he longed and longed for his home unbearably. He had to return quickly. He had to return quickly. And……………………

Father Sea Bream

“Oh, hast thou come to thy senses?”

The young sea bream snapped eyes open.

“Where is this place?”

“‘Tis thy home.”

“What?”
“Who are you?”

“I am thy father.”
“Dost thou not understand?”
“Ah, Father!”

“What happened to thee? What... But no matter—’tis well now.”

“I feel as though I’ve been reborn.”

“Oh!
“And how was thy journey?”

“Yes—from the kind treatment by sardines and flounders in the bay to the scorn from large fish species out at sea—a detailed tale interwoven with tears.”

“Then on my way back, as I was hurrying along, right before my nose there suddenly surfaced a great jet-black mountain-like thing.
“My eyes swam dizzily and my body shook.
“It was an utterly sudden occurrence.
“But no matter what might come, entrusting my fate to heaven, I dashed off in a frenzy.
“From then on, I know nothing at all.”

“It’s a relief that you’re safe.”
“That great black mountain was a whale.”
“How terrifying, how terrifying! Just hearing about it makes one shudder.”

“Father.”

“What?”
“But I have gained a good experience.”
“At such a brink of life…”

“Yes.”
“That’s not all.”
“The world holds countless things beyond our ken—the vanity of preening in narrow realms.”

“Eh?”

“I came to understand my own folly through and through for the first time.”

Why Did the Drunkard Stop Drinking That Liquor?

Even among drunkards, there existed a truly fearsome drunkard.
In that household, because of this, they would inevitably waste some three hundred out of the year's three hundred sixty-five days in ceaseless quarrels.

Today again, when the husband came home utterly plastered, his wife bared her teeth like a mountain wolf and roared.
However you looked at him, there he lay flipped over like a corpse, bereft of any shred of awareness.
His snores rattled loud enough to dislodge soot from the rafters.

As always, even his wife could only stare in dumbfounded silence.

Strange things do happen.
But today—who knows what came over him—when he awoke, he went off somewhere sniveling and sobbing.

Before long, the drunkard appeared before the shrine in the densely wooded back mountain and kneeled on the ground.

“O God, please listen to me.
I am the drunkard whom You know well.
Because I am a drunkard, our household burns like a chariot of fire.
When I see the tattered rags my wife and children drag about, I resolve to quit—I swear I’ll quit—but then I pass by the liquor shop’s front and catch that sweet, swirling scent...”
“All reason deserts me.”
“O God, why does this thirst consume me so?”
“Is there truly no way to abandon this liquor I crave?”

God beheld the drunkard’s tears.

“I see.”
“I’ve understood.”
“I can’t help but pity you.”
“That’s all.”

“What? Even a scrap-paper-like human like me—you find pitiable?”
“Ah, how else could I feel?”
“Whaaaat…?”

Overjoyed beyond measure, the Drunkard whirled around and raced back home from the mountain.
When he arrived and looked around, neither wife nor children nor anyone else were there.

As for the wife，she in turn came leading the children to where the master had departed from，crossing paths with him.
as if she’d come specifically to pick a fight

“What am I to do?
“O God.
“It’s about our household drunkard.
“I’m too appalled to speak.
“I’ve begged you to make him quit drinking—not a hundred times, not two hundred.
“But instead of stopping, it’s worse than ever.
“Today he seemed deeply hurt by something I said—woke up sobbing and went out again.
“Straight to the liquor store, no doubt.
“I hate liquor.
“Because of it, my children and I never know if we’ll eat from one day to the next.
“Won’t you say something, God?
“Why did you ever teach humans how to brew that cursed drink?
“I resent you!” she cried.

God, just as before,

“I see.
“Understood.”
“I can’t help but find you all pitiable.”
“That’s all there is to it.”

“What?!
“That’s all there is to it,’ you say?!”
“Well then, what are you going to do about the liquor?”

“That’s none of my concern.”

“Oh, this God is...!”

“What now?”

“What are you going to do about the liquor? That’s what I’m asking!”

“Ask the devil about that!”

Fuming with anger, the wife returned home.
On her way back, she thought:
“Ugh, what a damn fool!
Let whatever happen, happen!” And on her way back—whether it was proper or not, and despite being a woman—she stepped into a liquor store with those very feet.

With her staggering steps—undeniable proof of her bottomless indulgence—she barely steadied herself and crossed the threshold of her home.

“Hey, you blockhead, give me some food, food! I'm starving! Huh? It’s gotten so dark, and you still haven’t even lit the lamp? Huh? Hey...!”

The one who was surprised was the husband.
Things took a terrible turn indeed.
It was as if heaven and earth had turned upside down.
Those days continued day after day thereafter.
Due to the sheer astonishment, the husband completely forgot his desire for alcohol and everything else, as if they had vanished somewhere.
And he began working earnestly.

Then the wife also thought.
She came to feel ashamed of that misconduct.

One day, as the husband and wife were peacefully drinking tea together, a pheasant chick came carrying a single leaf in its beak and left it there.
It was from the God of the Back Mountain.
Something was written on it.
Looking at it,

“Now, with this, your wishes have been granted.”

The Secret Melody of the Cowpeas

Morning dew had settled across everything.
In the cowpea field, the cowpeas—their voices harmonizing with an instrument whose sound resembled faint silver threads, or rather, to put it grandly, a melody one would wish to hear even if living eternity condensed into an instant—were fervently singing little songs.

This morning too, the poor sickly poet listened enraptured.
Whenever others approached with footsteps, they would abruptly stop, so no one else ever heard them.

That song—

"No matter where we fall, we grow,
Bloom flowers,
Bear fruit,
And oh—
What a beautiful world!"

Wherever we fall, we grow.
We bloom flowers.
We bear fruit.
And then, well...
What a beautiful world!