Pathway to Japanese Literature

Three Graduates of Bear Cave School

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The red long-handed spider, the silver slug, and the unwashed raccoon dog entered Bear Cave School together.
What Mr. Bear Cave taught were three things.

In their first year, they studied both the race between the Hare and Tortoise and another principle: that size determined greatness.
Then all three competed fiercely to become number one.
In their first year, because the slug and raccoon dog were frequently late and punished, the spider became number one.
The slug and raccoon dog wept bitterly in frustration.
In their second year, because Mr. Bear Cave miscalculated the scores, the slug became number one, and the spider and raccoon dog ground their teeth in vexation.
During their third-year exam, as the surroundings were so bright that Mr. Bear Cave kept shedding tears and closing his eyes, the raccoon dog wrote while consulting a book.
And thus the raccoon dog became number one.
Thereupon the red long-handed spider, the silver slug, and the unwashed raccoon dog graduated together from Bear Cave School.
Outwardly appearing most cordial—hosting a gratitude banquet for Mr. Bear Cave and holding their own farewell gathering—yet inwardly each nursed thoughts of: "Hmph! What could those fools possibly achieve? Just watch which of us becomes truly great."
With ceremonies concluded, the three returned to their respective homes to properly implement what they had learned.
Meanwhile Mr. Bear Cave now spent his days pursuing sewer rats to recruit for his school.

It was precisely when the Katakuri flowers bloomed that swarms upon swarms of azure-eyed bees, buzzing loudly through the sunlight as they flew about, greeted each tiny peach-colored blossom to receive nectar and fragrant oils, repaid the kindness by transporting golden pollen to other flowers, or collected excess wax from fresh tree buds to construct hexagonal hives—transforming everything into the bustling, vibrant gateway of spring.

Part 1: What Became of the Spider?

On the evening after the gathering, the Spider returned to the oak tree at the entrance of his own forest.

However, the Spider had already used up all his money at Bear Cave School, so he now had nothing left.
So he endured his hunger and began spinning his web in the dim moonlight of the hazy moon.
He was so ravenously hungry that his body had nearly run out of silk.

However, the spider
"Just you wait, just you wait," he muttered while desperately drawing out silk, finally managing to spin a web no larger than a two-sen coin.
Then he hid in the shadow of a branch and spent the entire night glaring at his web.

Around dawn, a small child fly came buzzing from afar and collided with the web.
However, since the web had been spun when he was utterly famished, the threads lacked any stickiness, and the child fly immediately tried to cut through them and fly away.

The spider, like a lunatic, dashed out from the shadow of the branch and viciously sank his fangs into the fly.

“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry,” wept the child fly in a pitiful voice, but without uttering a word, the spider devoured everything from its head to its wings to its legs.
Then, letting out a relieved breath, he gazed skyward for a moment, rubbed his belly, and spun more silk.
And then the web expanded another full circle.

The spider returned to the shadow of the branch once more, his six eyes glinting fiercely as he fixed his gaze on the web.

“Might this place be…?” said the blind mayfly as he tapped his cane and approached.

“This here’s an inn,” said the Spider, blinking each of his six eyes separately.

The mayfly sat down on the web with a weary sigh.
The Spider dashed out.
And

“Here, have some tea,” he said as he suddenly bit into the mayfly’s midsection.

The mayfly raised the hand he had extended to take the tea into the air, flailing and struggling,

“Ah, my daughter, when you hear your father

“...perished on his journey,” he began to sing in a pitiful voice.

“Enough! Shut up! Stop flailing around!” said the Spider.
Then the Mayfly clasped his hands together.

“Have mercy, I beseech you. Grant me but a moment more to speak my final words,” he pleaded.

The Spider felt a slight pang of pity.

“Alright, hurry up and do it,” he said, grabbing the mayfly’s leg and waiting.
The Mayfly truly began singing again from the beginning in a pitifully thin voice.

“Alas, my daughter… when you hear your father,

when you hear your father perished on his journey,

That small hand in white pilgrim’s sleeves,

Beloved pilgrimage’s rain and wind.

O blessed child of divine favor and gratitude,

Though you stand where waves crash against the shore,

O cruel Spider’s web’s abode,

May it not ensnare!
May it not draw near!”

“Cheeky little thing...” With that, the Spider devoured the mayfly in one breath.
Then, after gazing up at the sky for a while and rubbing his belly, he blinked his eyes a few times.

“Don’t you dare get cheeky,” he sang mockingly as he spun more silk.

The web had grown three full circles larger and was now a magnificent nest resembling a bat-shaped umbrella.
The Spider, completely relieved, hid again in the shadow of the leaves.

At that moment, he heard a pleasant voice singing from below.

“Red Long-Handed Spider,
Near the heavens you crawl about,
Smoothly spinning threads of light,
Glitter-glitter, you spin your nest.”

When he looked, it was a beautiful female spider.

“Come here,” said the Red Long-Handed Spider as he smoothly lowered a single thread.

The female spider immediately grabbed onto it and climbed up.
And then the two became husband and wife.
Because abundant prey became caught in the web daily, the wife spider devoured it all and transformed everything into children.
As a result, many children were born.
However, those children were so small they were practically translucent.

The children slid across the web’s surface, wrestled in sumo fashion, swung on makeshift swings—it was positively bustling. Moreover, one day a dragonfly came to inform him of everyone’s resolution: he would now become vice-president of the Insect Council.

One day, as the spider couple hid in the shade of leaves sipping tea, a jeering voice sang out from below:

“Red Long-Handed Spi-der,
The sons you’ve sired—two hundred strong,
Eye boogers, half-blind runts, mosquito’s tears,
At their biggest—mere millet grains.”

When they looked, it was that Silver Slug—now grown far larger without their notice.

The spider’s wife, frustrated, burst into tears as if set ablaze.

However, the Long-Handed Spider said.

“Hmph—that guy’s been green with envy over me lately.”
“Hey, Slug!”
“I’m gonna be vice-president of the Insect Council this time!”
“Hah.”
“Does it sting?”
“Hah.”
“No matter how much you bloat that body of yours, you’ll never pull off something like this.”
“Heh heh.”

The Silver Slug was so frustrated that he succumbed to a fever for some time,

“Ugh—you spider—how dare you humiliate me like this.
“Ugh.”
“Damn spider,” he groaned.

The web was sometimes torn by the wind or destroyed by rascal beetles, but the spider would swiftly spin silk to mend it.

Of the two hundred children, a hundred and ninety-eight were taken by ants, went missing, or contracted dysentery and died.

However, since all the children looked so much alike, the parent spider soon forgot about them.
And now the web was truly splendid.
Insects got caught one after another.
One day, as the spider couple hid in the shade of leaves sipping tea again, a single traveling mosquito came flying toward them, then upon seeing the web, hurriedly flew back the way it had come.
The spider took about three steps in that direction and watched it go with an exasperated look.

Then, from below came a loud burst of laughter, followed by a deep voice singing.

“Red Long-Handed Spide~er,
Red Long-Handed Spider,
Because your web’s so shoddy,
Even a mosquito that journeyed eight thousand two hundred ri,
Groan deeply and turn right!”

When they looked, it was the Unwashed Raccoon Dog.
The spider gnashed his teeth with a grinding sound and said.

“What?!”
“Damn Raccoon Dog!”
“I’ll soon become president of the Insect Council and make you bow down to me!”

From then on, the spider worked frantically, setting up as many as ten webs here and there and keeping watch even at night.
But there was a problem, gentlemen—it had decayed.
The food had accumulated too much and decayed.
And then it spread to the spider couple and their children.
And so, the four of them gradually rotted from the tips of their legs into a slimy mush, until one day they were finally washed away by the rain.

At that very moment—when the chickweed flowers bloomed—the swarm of blue-eyed bees had already scattered here and there across the field, gathering nectar from each small lantern-like flower as though drawing fire.

II. What Happened to the Silver Slug

Around the time the spider had spun a web about the size of a two-sen copper coin on an oak tree at the forest’s entrance, a snail came calling at the splendid abode of the Silver Slug.

By that time, the Silver Slug had graduated from school and was already renowned throughout the forest as a well-liked and kind-hearted individual.
The snail,

“Mr. Slug.”
“This time, I’ve found myself in quite a predicament.”
“I have no food left—no water—could you spare just a little of that coltsfoot dew stored at your place?” he said.

Then the Silver Slug said.

“Of course I’ll give it to you! Here, have some.”

“Oh thank you ever so much,” said the Snail as he gulped down the coltsfoot dew. “This will save me.”

“Have more! You and I are practically brothers! Ha ha ha! Come now, have some more,” urged the Silver Slug.

“Then I’ll take a little more,” said the Snail as he drank again. “Oh thank you ever so much.”

“Mr. Snail. Once you’re feeling better, shall we have a round of sumo wrestling for old times’ sake? Ha ha ha! It’s been a while,” said the Silver Slug.

“I’m hungry and have no strength,” said the Snail.

“Then I’ll give you something to eat. Here, go ahead and have some.” The Silver Slug brought out thistle sprouts and such.

“Thank you very much. Then I’ll have some,” said the Snail as he ate them.

“Come now, let’s have a round of sumo!
“Ha ha ha!” said the Silver Slug as he promptly stood up.
The snail, having no choice,

“Since I’m rather weak, please don’t throw me too hard,” he said as he stood up.

“Heave-ho! There! Ha ha ha!” The Snail was thrown violently.

“Come on, let’s have another round. Ha ha ha!”

“I’m already too exhausted.”

“Come now, let’s have another round. Ha ha ha! Heave-ho! There! Ha ha ha!” The Snail was thrown violently.

“Let’s have another round.
“Ha ha ha!”

“I can’t go on anymore.”

“Come now, let’s have another round.”
“Ha ha ha!”
“Heave-ho! There!”
“Ha ha ha!”
The Snail was thrown violently.

“Let’s have another round.
“Ha ha ha!”

“No more.”

“Come now, let’s have another round.”
“Ha ha ha!”
“Heave-ho!”
“There!”
“Ha ha ha!”
The Snail was thrown violently.

“Let’s have another round.
“Ha ha ha!”

“I’m going to die now. Goodbye.”

“Come now, let’s have another round.”
“Ha ha ha!”
“Come on.”
“Please stand up.”
“I’ll help you up.”
“Heave-ho!”
“There!”
“Heh heh heh.”
The Snail had died.
Thereupon, the Silver Slug crunched up the snail, shell and all.

About a month later, the lizard came limping to the Silver Slug’s splendid abode.
And then,

“Mr.Slug.”
“Good day.”
“Could you spare me some medicine?” he said.

“What’s wrong?” asked the Silver Slug with a laugh.

“I was bitten by a snake,” said the Lizard.

“In that case, it’s no trouble at all.”
“I’ll just give that a lick for you.”
“If I give it a lick, the snake’s poison will vanish right away.”
“Why, even snakes dissolve before me, you see.”
“Ha ha ha!” said the Silver Slug with a laugh.

“Please, I beg of you,” said the Lizard as he extended a leg.

“Yeah.”
“Absolutely, yes.”
“You and I are practically brothers.”
“You and snakes are brothers too, aren’t you?”
“Ha ha ha!” said the Silver Slug.

And then the Silver Slug pressed his mouth to the Lizard's wound.

“Thank you, Mr. Slug,” said the Lizard.

“If I don’t lick it a bit more thoroughly now, you’ll be in real trouble later. Even if you come back again next time, I won’t fix you up. Ha ha ha!” replied the Silver Slug in muffled tones as he continued licking the Lizard.

“Mr. Slug. I think my leg has melted,” said the Lizard in alarm.

“Ha ha ha! Oh, it’s nothing. It’s nothing serious. Ha ha ha!” replied the Silver Slug, still in muffled tones.

“Mr. Slug. My stomach feels rather hot,” said the Lizard anxiously.

“Ha ha ha! Oh, it isn’t that serious. Ha ha ha!” replied the Silver Slug, still in muffled tones.

“Mr. Slug.

“My body has half melted. Please stop,” cried the Lizard in a tearful voice.

“Ha ha ha! Oh, it’s nothing serious. It’s really just a little. Ha ha ha!” said the Silver Slug.

When the Lizard heard that, he was finally relieved.
The reason for his relief was that at that very moment, his heart had melted.

Thereupon, the Silver Slug gobbled up the Lizard in one gulp.
And he had grown tremendously large.

Because he had grown so tremendously large, in his excessive joy, he ended up mocking that spider.

And then mocked in turn by the spider, he came down with a fever. Every single day he vowed: “Alright—if I grow big enough—as big as I can get—then next time I’ll become an honorary member of the Insect Council for sure! And when that spider says anything at all, I’ll just give a dismissive puff of breath in reply.”

However around this time，the Silver Slug’s reputation began to sour.

The Silver Slug would always laugh "Ha ha ha!" and speak in a breezy tone, but since his heart was truly wicked—worse even than the spider—everyone began to scorn him.
In particular, whenever the Silver Slug came up in conversation, the Raccoon Dog would give a derisive snicker and remark:

“The Slug’s methods are just clumsy.
“The sheer clumsiness of it is unbearable to watch.
“With methods like that, even if he grew big, it’d be nothing impressive.”

The Silver Slug grew even angrier upon hearing this and frantically rushed to secure his position as an honorary council member at once.
Before long, after the Spider had decayed, melted away, and been washed off by the rain, the Silver Slug waited eagerly yet with some relief, fervently hoping someone would arrive soon.

Then one day, the Tree Frog came.

And then,

“Mr. Slug. Hello. May I drink a little water?” said the Tree Frog.

The Silver Slug, wanting to devour this Tree Frog too, declared resolutely in a booming voice: “Mr. Frog! Do come in. I’ll give you all the water you could want. Though it’s been dry lately, why—you and I are practically brothers! Ha ha ha!” He then led him to the water jar.

The Tree Frog gulped down the water noisily, put on an innocent face, stared at the Silver Slug for a moment, and spoke.

“Mr. Slug. How about a round of sumo?”

The Silver Slug was pleased, thinking this was clever. He had been about to propose it himself, but the Frog had beaten him to it. If I throw this weakened guy five times, I’ll probably gulp him down in one go.

“Let’s do it. Hup! There! Ha ha ha!”
The Tree Frog was violently thrown down.

“Let’s go again. Ha ha ha! Hup! There! Ha ha ha!”
The Tree Frog was thrown down again.
Thereupon, the Tree Frog frantically pulled out a bag of salt from his pocket and said.

“I’ve got to spread salt on the ring．
There!
Whoosh．”
Salt scattered white all around．

The Silver Slug said．

“Mr．Frog．
This time I’m sure to lose．
You’re strong，you see．
Ha ha ha!
Hup!
There!
Ha ha ha!”
The Tree Frog was violently thrown down．

And then, with limbs splayed and his bluish-white belly turned skyward, he ended up looking as if he had died.
The Silver Slug tried to immediately gulp him down and moved forward, but for some reason his legs wouldn’t budge.
When he looked, his legs were already half melted.

“Ah—I’ve been had! Salt! Damn you!” said the Silver Slug.

Upon hearing this, the Tree Frog suddenly sat upright, crossed his legs, and opened his satchel-like mouth wide in laughter.
And he bowed to the Silver Slug and said.

“No—goodbye.
“Mr. Slug.
“What a fine mess we’ve landed in, eh?”

The Silver Slug, on the verge of tears,

“Mr. Frog. Goo…” he tried to say, but his tongue had already melted.
The Tree Frog laughed uproariously while

“You wanted to say goodbye, didn’t you?
“Goodbye, goodbye for real.
“I’ll cry a good deal for you once I get home too,” he said while dashing straight home.

Now, this was just when the buckwheat flowers sown in autumn had begun blooming white across the entire field, and that swarm of blue-eyed bees were diligently gathering the year's final nectar—weaving through square plots filled with pale red stems, swinging blossom-laden twigs like pendulums as they worked.

Three: The Unwashed Raccoon Dog.

The Unwashed Raccoon Dog had deliberately not washed his face.
Just as the spider had built a web the size of a two-sen copper coin on an oak tree at the forest entrance, he had returned to the temple he called home—yet still completely famished, he leaned against a pine tree and closed his eyes.
Then the rabbit came.

“Mr. Raccoon Dog.
“If I remain this starving, there’s absolutely no way to go on.”
“I can only die now.”

The Raccoon Dog adjusted the collar of the kimono and said.

“That’s right.”
“All must attain enlightenment.”
“It is all according to Lord Mountain Cat Great Bright Deity’s divine will.”
“Right?”
“False Cat.”
“False Cat.”

The Rabbit also began chanting False Cat along with him.

“False Cat, False Cat, False Cat, False Cat.”

The Raccoon Dog took the Rabbit’s hand and pulled it closer toward himself.

“False Cat, False Cat—it is that everyone becomes precisely as Lord Mountain Cat wills.”
“False Cat.”
“False Cat,” he declared as he bit into the Rabbit’s ear.
The Rabbit cried out in surprise.

“Ouch!
“Mr. Raccoon Dog.
“That’s too cruel!”

The Raccoon Dog, munching and mumbling on the Rabbit’s ear,

“False Cat, False Cat—all worldly matters unfold precisely according to Lord Mountain Cat’s divine will. What a blessed arrangement that you’d have me bite and fix those overly large ears of yours. False Cat,” he declared while finally devouring both of the Rabbit’s ears.

The Rabbit too, hearing this, became so overjoyed that tears streamed down as he said:

“False Cat, False Cat.
“Ah, how grateful we are to Lord Mountain Cat.
“That someone as trivial as myself would receive His gracious concern even over my ears—it is truly a blessing.
“If it brings salvation, two ears or such mean nothing at all.
“False Cat.”

The Raccoon Dog also let false tears stream down.
“False Cat, False Cat—is this not too presumptuous a leap, that I must now gnaw upon your legs? Yes, yes, I’ll gnaw I’ll gnaw, False Cat False Cat,” he declared while munching and mumbling on the Rabbit’s hind legs.

The Rabbit grew even more delighted,

“Ah, how grateful, Lord Mountain Cat.
Thanks to this, I’ve lost my legs and no longer need to walk.
Ah, how blessed! False Cat, False Cat.”

The Raccoon Dog pretended to cry so profusely that his body seemed on the verge of becoming sodden with tears.

“False Cat, False Cat.
“Everything unfolds precisely as divine will decrees.
“Would one as wretched as I be deemed worthy to preserve this life and serve?”
“Yes, yes—this too cannot be helped—False Cat False Cat.”
“I shall execute matters precisely as divine will decrees.”
*Munching sounds*”

The Rabbit had completely vanished.

And from within the Raccoon Dog’s stomach came a voice:

“I’ve been utterly deceived.”
“Your stomach’s interior is pitch black.”
“Ah, how mortifying!”

The Raccoon Dog said angrily.

“Shut up!”
“Hurry up and dissolve!”

The Rabbit cried out again.

“Everyone, don’t let the Raccoon Dog trick you!”

The Raccoon Dog glared his eyes， firmly closed the entrance for a while so that nothing would be heard outside， and then covered his nose with his hand.

And then exactly two months passed.

One day, as the Raccoon Dog was conducting his usual sacred sermon at his home, the Wolf arrived carrying three measures of rice husks and requested a sermon.

Then the Raccoon Dog said.

“You’ve taken lives—five hundred, a thousand wouldn’t begin to cover it.
If all living beings are as they are, why would there be any who wish to die?
Hmm? Right?
And you’re the one who ate them.
Hmm? Right?
Hasten to repent.
If you don’t, you’ll face terrible torment later!
Oh, how dreadful!
False Cat.
False Cat.”

The Wolf was utterly terrified and, after glancing around restlessly for a while, inquired.

“Then what should I do?”

The Raccoon Dog said.

“I am Lord Mountain Cat’s proxy—do exactly as I say.”
“False Cat.”
“False Cat.”

“What should I do?” the Wolf asked in a panic.
The Raccoon Dog said:
“As for that—
Stay perfectly still. Hmm?
I’ll pull out your fangs.
With these fangs of yours—how many lives have you taken?
It’s a dreadful thing.
Hmm?
I’ll gouge out your eyes.
Hmm?
With these eyes of yours—how many creatures have you glared to death? It’s a dreadful thing.”
And then.

“False Cat, False Cat, False Cat.
I’ll take a little nibble at your ears.
This is punishment.
False Cat.
False Cat.
Endure this.
I’ll gnaw your head.
Mmph, mmph.
False Cat.
In this world, forbearance is of utmost importance.
False Ca…
Mmph, mmph.
I’ll eat your leg.
Quite tasty.
False Cat.
Mmph.
Mmph.
I’ll eat your back.
This is tasty too.
Mmph, mmph, mmph.”

Finally, the Wolf was completely devoured.
And inside the Raccoon Dog’s belly, he said.

“It’s pitch dark here.
Ah, here are rabbit bones.
Who killed them, I wonder.
The killer’ll probably get lectured by the Raccoon Dog while being gnawed to bits, I bet.”

The Unwashed Raccoon Dog said, “I’ll put on a noisy, noisy lid,” and swallowed the rice husks brought by the Wolf still wrapped in the three-sho furoshiki.

However, from the next day onward, the Raccoon Dog’s body somehow began to feel unwell.
For some reason, his stomach hurt terribly, and there was something prickling in his throat.

At first, he managed by drinking water and suchlike to get by, but as each day passed it grew more severe until he could no longer sit or stand still.
Finally, on the twenty-fifth day after devouring the Wolf, the Raccoon Dog’s body swelled up like a rubber balloon and then burst apart with a BORON sound.

The beasts in the forest were startled and gathered around.
When they looked, the Raccoon Dog's body was filled with rice leaves.
The rice husks the Wolf had brought had sprouted and gradually grown.

Mr. Bear Cave also arrived belatedly to inspect.
Then—"Ah, though all three were such bright, good children"—he said while releasing a tremendous yawn—"they did something truly regrettable."

By this time, it was already the beginning of winter, and that group of blue-eyed bees had all entered their respective hexagonal hives made of wax, where they lay quietly sleeping as they dreamed of the coming spring.