Pathway to Japanese Literature

Author: Kusuyama Masao

Table of Contents

Etiological Tales (Part 1)

Why Are Buckwheat Roots Red?

Monkey and Crab

Fox and Lion

Frog and Earthworm

Sparrow and Woodpecker

Etiological Tales (Part 2)

Owl and Crow

Honeybee

Flatfish

Cuckoo

Dove

Etiological Tales (Part 1)

Why Are Buckwheat Roots Red?

I

Do you know the buckwheat plant?
Despite blooming such pure white, snow-like beautiful flowers, go to the field once and examine its roots thoroughly.
They are blood-red.
When on earth did the buckwheat roots become dyed so red?

There exists such a story about that.

Long ago, there was a mother who had three boys.
The eldest was Taro; the second was Jiro; and the youngest and very small one was Saburo.

One day, the mother went out to town to do some shopping.
As she was about to leave, the mother called the three children and,

“Mother is going to town to do some shopping and will come back.”
“I’ll be back soon, so you three keep watch together nicely.”
“Close the door firmly and all stay quietly inside.”
“There’s a chance that wicked Mountain Witch might disguise herself as me and come to trick you, so be very careful and never open the door.”
“Even if the Mountain Witch disguises herself skillfully, her voice is a hoarse, croaking one, and her limbs are rough like pine bark—jet-black limbs at that—so you must never be deceived by her.”

she instructed them.
Then the children,
“Mom… you don’t need to worry! We’ll do just as you say and wait.”
Hearing this…

However, the mother who had said she would return soon did not come back for quite some time, and before long, dusk began to fall.
The children grew increasingly worried.
“What’s happened to our mom?” they were saying to one another when someone knocked on the front door—knock knock—
“Children, open up.
“It’s your mom.
“I’ve brought back loads of your favorite souvenirs, you know?”

she said.

But hearing this hoarse, croaking voice, the children knew it wasn’t their mother.
Thinking it must be the Mountain Witch in disguise,

“We won’t open! You’re not our mother!”
“Our mother has a gentle voice.”
“Your voice is hoarse and croaking.”
“You must be the Mountain Witch!”

they said.

It was indeed the Mountain Witch.
She had caught and devoured their mother along the way.
Having disguised herself as their mother, she now came to devour the children.
But when they refused entry, she grew desperate. She went to the village oil shop, stole a shō of oil, drank it all to soften her throat, returned once more, and knocked on the door—knock knock.
And then,

“Children, open up.
“It’s your mom.
“I’ve brought back loads of your favorite souvenirs, you know?”

she said.

This time, her voice perfectly matched their mother’s—gentle and kind.
However, the children still weren’t truly convinced,

“Then show us your hand first.”

they said.

Because the Mountain Witch extended her hand through the door crack, when the children touched it, it was gnarled like pine bark and rough to the touch.
The children again,

"No."
"We won't open."
"We won't open."
"Mother has much smoother and softer hands."
"You must be the Mountain Witch."

they said.

So the Mountain Witch went to the back field, took some sweet potato stems, and wrapped them tightly around the tips of her hands.

And then, for the third time, the Mountain Witch stood before the house and knocked on the door—knock knock—
“Children, open up.
“It’s your mom.
“I’ve brought back loads of your favorite souvenirs.”

When she said this, the children from inside,

“Then show us your hand.”
“We’ll check whether you’re really our mom or not.”

they said.

The Mountain Witch once again extended her hand through the door crack.
This time, the hand was smooth and soft, so thinking it must indeed be their mother, the children opened the door and let the Mountain Witch inside.

2

The Mountain Witch, disguised as their mother, upon entering the house promptly made dinner, ate so much that the children were astonished, declared “I’m exhausted tonight, so let’s turn in early,” then took the youngest child, Saburo, as usual, and went into the back room to sleep.
Taro and Jiro slept together in the front room.

In the middle of the night, when Taro and Jiro suddenly awoke, there came a crunching sound from the back room—someone munching on something.
It was the Mountain Witch catching and eating the youngest brother, Saburo.

“Mother, Mother, what’s that noise?”

Taro asked.

“Because I was hungry, I’m eating some takuan.”

said the Mountain Witch.

“I want some too.”

said Jiro.

“Here, I’ll give you some.”

With that, the Mountain Witch bit off Saburo’s little finger and threw it toward where the children were.
When Taro picked it up—though too dark to see clearly—it somehow resembled a human finger.
Startled, Taro quietly whispered into Jiro’s ear beneath the futon.

“The one in the back must be the Mountain Witch.
“The Mountain Witch has transformed into Mother and is eating Saburo.
“If we keep dawdling, we’ll be eaten next.
“Let’s escape—escape quickly!”

As Taro and Jiro whispered their plans, the sound of the Mountain Witch voraciously devouring Saburo in the back room grew increasingly loud.

At that moment, Jiro stuck his head out from the futon,

“Mother, Mother, I need to use the bathroom.”

said Jiro.

“Then get up, go outside, and do it.”

“The door won’t open.”

“Have your brother open it for you.”

So Taro and Jiro prepared to escape, awkwardly crawled out from under the futon, opened the door, and went outside.
The sky was perfectly clear, and the stars were twinkling brightly.
The two carved notches into the peach tree beside the garden well with a hatchet, using them as footholds to climb up to the treetop.
And then, holding their breath, they hid themselves.

When the siblings still hadn't returned from their bathroom break even after a long time had passed, the Mountain Witch lumbered out to search for them.
The dawn moon had just begun to rise, making the garden appear dazzlingly bright.
Yet nowhere could she see the siblings' figures.
After exhausting herself with fruitless searching and growing parched with thirst, when the Mountain Witch approached the well to drink water, she found the siblings' forms hiding in the peach tree above clearly mirrored on the water's surface.

“You lied about needing to relieve yourselves and climbed up there, didn’t you?”

The Mountain Witch looked up at the treetop and scolded the siblings. When they heard that voice, the siblings shriveled up in fear even more.

“Why did you climb up?”

When the Mountain Witch asked,

"We smeared hair oil on the tree to climb it,"

said Taro.

“Hmph, is that so?”

With that, the Mountain Witch went to fetch hair oil.
While the siblings trembled fearfully up in the tree, the Mountain Witch returned with hair oil and began slathering it thickly on the peach tree.

“Now, I’m climbing up!”

As she said this, the Mountain Witch placed her foot on the peach tree—but sliiide! She slipped right off the hair oil.
Then slip-slide, slip-slide—over and over she slid, yet stubbornly climbed about six feet upward—until finally, with one last sliiide, she slipped clean off and thudded heavily to the ground below.

Then Jiro called down from above:

"What a fool of a Mountain Witch! You think you can climb a tree slathered in hair oil? You need to carve notches with a hatchet!"

He laughed.

"What happened to that hatchet?" demanded the Mountain Witch.

"The hatchet's at the bottom of the well," Jiro answered, laughing again.

The Mountain Witch peered into the well's depths but couldn't reach it. Fuming, she rummaged through the shed for a sickle, returned to scrape off the greasy residue from the peach tree, and began carving fresh notches into its trunk.

Seeing her methodically preparing to climb, the siblings' anxiety grew. Soon she'd covered the trunk with footholds and started ascending with terrible scraping noises that echoed through the night.

The desperate children clambered higher up the branches until they reached the very crown of the tree - no further refuge remained above them. Still the Mountain Witch kept climbing relentlessly upward.

Cornered completely now, both brothers tilted their heads back toward the starless void overhead and poured every shred of their terror into one anguished cry:

“Heavenly Deity, golden rope!”

they cried out.

Then, with a clattering sound, a long, long iron rope came dangling down from the high heavens.
Taro and Jiro hung onto that rope and, hand over hand, hand over hand, climbed up to the vast sky and escaped.

When the Mountain Witch saw this, she seethed with frustration and likewise looked up at the sky,

“Heavenly Deity, rotten rope!”

and bellowed at the top of her voice.

Then came a dry rustling sound as a long rotten rope descended from the high heavens. The Mountain Witch immediately grabbed the rope and climbed endlessly upward in pursuit of the children. But under her own weight, the rope gradually frayed until—snap!—it severed midway.

Still clutching half the rope, she plummeted headfirst from the sky into a vast buckwheat field. Her skull struck a large rock with such force that she bled profusely and died. This blood stained the buckwheat roots crimson—a hue that persists like fresh blood to this day.

Monkey and Crab

It was just the time of the rice planting break, and throughout the village, lively mochi-pounding sounds could be heard here and there.
The mountain monkey and the river crab met along the way and held a consultation.

“How about it? Let’s steal that whole mortar of rice cakes and split them between us.”

With their plan quickly agreed upon, Monkey and Crab devised a scheme to steal the rice cakes.

When they went to a house, they found everyone in the household had gone out to the garden, thud-thud, thud-thud, completely absorbed in pounding rice cakes.
In the tatami room, a baby lay sleeping alone, with no one nearby.

At that moment, Crab lumbered up from the edge of the veranda and snipped the baby’s hand once with his claw.
Then the baby, startled and in pain, burst into tears with a sudden “Wah!”, as though a flame had been lit.
The people who were out in the garden, wondering what had happened, were startled. They threw down their mortars and pestles without exception and rushed to the tatami room—but by that time, Crab had already lumbered off and escaped.
Unable to fathom why the baby had cried, everyone returned to the garden muttering complaints—only to find that the entire mortar’s worth of half-pounded rice cakes had disappeared, mortar and all.
Having been fooled twice, they were frustrated and ventured out to chase after [the culprits], but this time too, they saw nothing.

Crab went up to the top of the slope and was waiting for Monkey to arrive when Monkey came along rolling a large mortar.

“How about that? Worked like a charm, didn’t it? Come on, let’s eat.”
When Crab said this,
“Yeah… That thing weighed a ton—nearly broke my back. But if we eat this right away, all the fun will be gone. That’d be such a waste. How about this—I’ll roll this mortar from here, and the two of us will chase after it. Whoever reaches it first gets to eat the rice cakes.”
said Monkey.

Then, Crab blew bubbles from its mouth while,

“Mr. Monkey, that’s no good. Even if we raced, isn’t it perfectly clear that I can’t possibly match you? Don’t say such spiteful things. Let’s just split it half-and-half and eat together nicely.”

After saying this, Monkey didn't listen and declared:
"If you don't like it then quit! I'll devour everything myself! After all—*I'm* the one who hauled this gods-forsaken mortar up here!"

“But I’m the one who made the baby cry, tricked everyone, and got you to do the work, aren’t I?”

said Crab.

But Monkey,

“Quit your whining. Instead of that, just race me!”

With that, he rolled the mortar down from the top of the slope without hesitation. The mortar rolled away clattering. Monkey also chased after it together. Having no choice, Crab squirmed restlessly and crawled after them, but before they had even reached the midpoint of the slope, the rice cakes spilled out from the mortar and caught on a tree root by the path. And the mortar went clattering all the way down to the bottom. Unaware of this, Monkey chased after the mortar as it rolled on and on.

As Crab was moving along, he spotted something white on a tree root. Curious, he crept closer to investigate and found freshly pounded rice cakes. “This looks delicious,” he thought, and began devouring them by himself with evident relish.
Monkey went to the trouble of racing all the way down, but finding it was an empty mortar, he slumped in disappointment,
“Hey! Why aren’t you rolling the rice cakes faster?”
he shouted from below.
Then Crab sneered,

“As if freshly pounded rice cakes would roll down a slope! Once they’ve hardened into proper New Year’s rice cakes, then I’ll roll them for you,” said Crab. Monkey became furious, but since he had proposed and carried out the plan himself, he reluctantly apologized to Crab, pulled out the hair from his behind and gave it to Crab, and received half the rice cakes in return. That is why even now, Monkey’s rear has no hair, while Crab’s limbs have hair, it is said.

Fox and Lion

Long ago, a Japanese fox crossed over to China and lived among the beasts there.

One day, beasts gathered in great numbers in the forest, each beginning to boast about their own exploits.
Then Lion, who had been listening to everyone’s stories, made a face as though thoroughly annoyed,

“No matter what anyone says, there’s none in all the world who can match my might.”
“Were I to let out a single roar, an earthquake would strike every house within ten ri around—every last pot and kettle would crack!”

said Lion.

Then Tiger became determined not to be outdone,

"Nonsense! If I take off running, even a thousand-ri thicket is just a single leap."
"Let them seethe with envy—nothing could ever match these legs of mine."

said Tiger.

At that moment, the Japanese Fox too became determined not to be outdone,

“How could I possibly lose to you all even though my body’s small?”
boasted the Japanese Fox.

Then Lion became enraged,

"Don't get cocky!
"You little fox born in some tiny country!
"Alright, stay right there.
"I'll let out one roar for you.
"You think your puny body can stand against me? It'll shrivel up into nothing and get blown away like a speck of dust!"

As he said this, Lion tightened his stomach muscles and began to roar with a "Uu..."
True to his bluster, the force truly seemed capable of blowing away everyone present. Fox frantically dug a small hole in the ground, shrank down, and burrowed inside.
When the roaring ceased, he popped out from within,

“What’s this, Lion? You boasted so grandly, but is that all there is to it? Far from being blown away like dust, as you can see, I haven’t budged an inch!”

Fox ridiculed him mercilessly. Then Lion—now truly bristling all over with rage—strained with all his might and let out a roar of “Uu...”, but from overexerting himself, his neck popped right off. Fox, growing even more smug, now turned his attention to Tiger,

“What’s the matter? If you defy me, even Lion ended up like this．You’d better start showing some proper fear．”

At these words, Tiger refused to yield,

“Fine then! Let’s race through a thousand-ri thicket!”

Tiger proposed.
Fox, without so much as a troubled look,

“Sure thing.”

With that, they promptly began preparing for the race.
Soon, at the shout of "One, two, three!" Tiger and Fox dashed off—but no sooner did they start than Fox nimbly leaped onto Tiger’s back from behind.
Unaware of this, Tiger ran and ran—truly leaping through the thousand-ri thicket in a single bound—until he was drenched from head to toe in sweat.
But before that could happen, Fox nimbly leaped down from Tiger’s back and landed several yards ahead,

“Come on, come on!”

Fox was calling out.
And so Tiger lost the contest as well.

Fox proudly carried Lion’s head on his back and returned to Japan.
This is why, to this day, people wear lion headgear during festivals.

Frog and Earthworm

Long, long ago, in ancient times, God gathered a great multitude of birds, insects, and beasts, and ordained what each would eat daily to sustain their lives.
Tens of thousands of creatures came trooping to God's abode, each in turn receiving their allotted provisions.
Among them, Snake was starving most fiercely and so emaciated he could barely move, lagging behind everyone else as he crawled sluggishly along after them at a snail's pace.
Then right behind him, Frog came bouncing up with vigorous hops.
Frog briskly overtook Snake,

“Mr. Snake, you’re really slow, aren’t you? Why don’t you suck on my rear end instead?”
With that jeer, he hurried briskly onward.
Snake burned with humiliation, but powerless to retaliate, he ended up trailing behind everyone else at a sluggish crawl.
By the time Snake reached God’s presence, most creatures had already collected their allotted sustenance and were heading home contentedly.
God observed Snake’s tardy arrival.

“Why were you so late?”

God inquired.
Thereupon, Snake explained in full that he had been too famished to walk quickly and that Frog had caught up from behind along the way, telling him to suck on his rear end.
Then God, greatly enraged, summoned Frog back—who had already begun to depart.
And turning to Snake,

“If Frog told you to suck his rear end, that’s fine.
“From now on, whenever you’re hungry, you may swallow Frog whole starting from his rear end.”

God declared.
Thereupon, Snake was overjoyed and suddenly caught Frog and swallowed him whole from the rear in one gulp.
With Snake’s food now decided, as God was about to return home, a small voice—

“Excuse me, excuse me...”

Calling out repeatedly, there emerged something from beneath the earth.
It was a blind earthworm, and because of its visual impairment, arriving here had taken considerable effort.

“Excuse me—God—what would be proper for me to eat?”

said Earthworm.
In God’s hands, nothing remained anymore.
So, growing annoyed,

“Just eat dirt.”

God declared.
Then Earthworm made a dissatisfied face,
“But if I eat all the dirt, what should I eat next?”
he persistently inquired.
Then God flew into a violent rage,
“Perish by burning in the summer’s scorching heat!”
He scolded.
And so it is said that Earthworm eats dirt to survive, but when he emerges under the summer’s scorching sun, he burns to death.

Sparrow and Woodpecker

Long ago, as Sparrow was diligently applying ohaguro before her mirror, news came that her mother had died. Startled and with her ohaguro only half applied, Sparrow rushed to her mother’s side. God praised Sparrow’s filial devotion.

“Sparrow, I grant you permission to pluck the first ears of rice every year from now on.”

God declared. However, as the ohaguro was left half-applied when abandoned midway, Sparrow’s beak remains black only on the lower half to this day, the upper part forever white.

In stark contrast, when news of her mother’s death arrived, Woodpecker remained obsessively applying rouge before her mirror, powdering her face, engrossed in vanity—ultimately failing to witness her parent’s final moments—so God grew furious,

“You shall eat insects in trees.”
God thus decreed.
And so Woodpecker forever hops from branch to branch, hungrily searching for insects.

The Origins of Things (Part II)

Owl and Crow

Long ago, the bird called Owl operated as a dyer.
All manner of birds would visit Owl to have their bodies dyed beautiful colors—reds and blues, mouse grays and lapis lazuli hues, yellows and more.
When Crow observed this, he burned with envy. Being something of a peacock himself, he resolved to be dyed the most splendid color of all and made his way to Owl’s workshop.

“Mr. Owl! Mr. Owl!”
“Please dye my feathers a color utterly unlike any other bird.”
“I’ll make every winged creature in creation gasp in awe!”

“After all, I’ll shock every bird in the world!” said Crow.

“Alright, alright.”

Owl agreed and racked his brains for some time before finally plunging Crow deep into an inkpot filled with pitch-black ink.

“There! Now you’re a bird of utterly unique coloring.”

Owl said while pulling Crow up.
Crow, imagining what splendid color he might have been dyed, eagerly hurried to look in the mirror—only to gasp in shock. From head to tail tip, he had become jet-black, eyes and beak indistinguishable from the void-like darkness.
Thereupon, Crow, having become even blacker, raged,
"Why on earth did you dye me such a color?"
At this, Owl,

“Because if you want a color unlike any other, this is it.”
With that, Owl said nonchalantly.
Crow seethed with resentment,
“Fine! Dragging someone through this misery.”
“Mark my words—I’ll have my vengeance someday.”

Crow said resentfully.

From that moment on, Crow and Owl became sworn enemies.
And so, Owl, fearing Crow’s retaliation, never showed itself during daylight.

Honeybee

Long, long ago, in ancient times, when God created various creatures, He also created many bees.
Among those many bees, only the honeybees did not have stingers.
Honeybee made a dissatisfied face and went to God’s place,

“All other bees have their stingers, but I alone have none.
Please give me a stinger.”

Honeybee said.

“No—since humans are to keep you, you require no stinger.”
“If you insist on having one, I may grant it—but never sting humans.”
“Should you mistakenly do so, the stinger shall snap off and your life be forfeit.”

God declared.
“I will never sting anyone, so please grant me the stinger,”
said Honeybee.

“Then I’ll grant you the stinger.”

And with that declaration, God granted Honeybee the stinger.
And so, as promised, even though honeybees possess a stinger, they do not sting humans.
If they sting, the stinger will snap off and they will lose their lives.

Flatfish

Long ago, there was a mean-spirited girl.
Her real mother had passed away, and the current one was her stepmother who had come later.
Whenever she did something wrong and was scolded by her stepmother, she believed the woman was reprimanding her out of hatred, and would glare resentfully at her.

But because she glared at her stepmother far too much, before she knew it, her eyes gradually began receding backward until they finally shifted around to her back.
And so the girl transformed into a flatfish.

Now that you mention it, indeed—the flatfish had eyes on its back.
That’s why even now, they say if you glare at your parent, you’ll turn into a flatfish.

Cuckoo

Long ago, there were two siblings.
The younger brother was exceedingly kind-hearted and devoted to his elder sibling, so whenever he went to gather potatoes in the mountains, he would always give the most appetizing portions to his brother while eating the unpalatable stems himself.
However, because the elder brother was blind and had a strong jealous streak, he thought, "My younger brother must be hiding all the good parts for himself and giving me nothing but scraps.
I'll just cut open his stomach and see for myself," and finally killed his younger brother.

But inside the younger brother’s stomach were nothing but sweet potato stems.
When he realized he had wrongfully doubted his honest younger brother, the elder brother was filled with deep remorse; clutching his dead sibling’s body tightly, he wept tears of blood.

Then, wings sprouted from the dead younger brother’s body, and he transformed into a bird.

“Sweet potato stems!
“Sweet potato stems!”

he cried out and flew away.

“Ganko” refers to the tail end of a sweet potato.
The younger brother had cried “Sweet potato stems! Sweet potato stems!” to convey that he had been eating the potato ends.
Thus he made his call.

Then the elder brother, feeling increasingly sorry for his younger sibling, also transformed into a bird.
"Have I strayed? Oh, my brother!"

and, crying and crying, he flew off in pursuit of his younger brother.

Every year when deutzia flowers bloom, the cuckoo that flies through dark skies crying with a voice so mournful it seems wrung from the soul may be heard by some as calling "Sweet potato stems! Sweet potato stems!" and by others as lamenting "Have I lost my way? Oh, my brother!"

This is said to be the transformed brothers, calling out to each other eternally within night's darkness.

Dove

Long ago, Dove too was an unfilial child who habitually contradicted everything its parent said—if told right, it went left; if told left, it went right.
Therefore, when Parent Dove wanted Child Dove to go to the mountains, it deliberately said, “Please go work in the fields today.”
When it wanted Child Dove to go work in the fields, it would deliberately say, “Please go to the mountains today.”

When Parent Dove was finally about to die, wanting to be buried in a mountain grave after death, it once again deliberately said:
“When I die, bury me among the small stones and sand on the riverbank.”

Parent Dove uttered these final words.

After parting with Parent Dove, Child Dove suddenly became sad.
And determined not to disobey his parent’s wishes this time, he buried the remains among the pebbles and sand of the riverbank exactly as instructed and erected a small grave.

However, being by the river, whenever rain fell and the waters swelled—each time the river overflowed onto its banks—the pebbles and sand would begin to crumble away, threatening to wash the grave away with them.
Child Dove, longing for Parent Dove all the more, cooed mournfully without end—poh-ho, poh-ho—in perpetual sorrow.

Even though Dove resolved at last to become a filial child, they say it still laments the loss of Parent Dove to this very day.