Pathway to Japanese Literature

Three Brothers

I. Three Branching Paths

This was during the time when His Majesty the Emperor’s capital still stood in Kyoto—a tale from a full thousand years past.

In a village of Tanba Province, some twenty ri north of the capital, there lived three brothers.
The eldest brother was named Ichiroji.
The middle brother was named Jiroji, and the youngest brother was named Saburoji.
Though called brothers, being eighteen, seventeen, and sixteen—each separated by but a year—their statures matched in height. From their facial features to their manner of speech, they resembled one another so closely that outsiders could hardly distinguish Ichiroji from Jiroji.

Unfortunately, having lost their parents when they were young, the small fields they once had were gradually taken by others. Now with no one to care for them, they managed to get by each day by taking on odd jobs for others. But though they were poor, all three were the closest of friends.

It was a certain night.
Ichiroji was deep in thought when he suddenly looked up.

“Rather than wasting each day like this with no future prospects,” he said, “perhaps we should go to the capital.”
“They say there are many fascinating and lively things in the capital.”

Hearing this, Jiroji and Saburoji cried out in unison,
“That’s perfect! That’s perfect!
If we go to the capital, something wonderful will surely happen.”

Ichiroji,

“Since they say ‘good deeds should be hastened,’ let us depart tomorrow,” he declared. And that night, they all busied themselves with preparations for their departure.

The next day dawned with a crisp autumn sky so clear it seemed even the sun celebrated their journey. The three left their village with vigor, hurrying ever southward toward the capital.

On the way, they stayed for a night.
On the second morning after leaving their village, when they climbed a large mountain pass, they could faintly see from its summit—far in the distance through the morning mist—countless houses spread densely across the land.

“Ah, the capital!” Saburoji exclaimed with great joy.
After that, the three brothers quickened their pace even more than before and raced down the mountain pass.
Yet after descending the pass, it became clear the capital still lay far ahead. Walk as they might, endless yellow rice fields stretched along both sides of the road.

A large ginkgo tree stood by the roadside.
They noticed that the road, which had been a single path until now, branched into three directions at that ginkgo tree.
The brothers grew slightly uneasy.

“Which path is the shortest, I wonder,” said Ichiroji.

“The middle path seems the shortest,” said Jiroji.

“But the left path seems the shortest,” said the youngest brother.

Then, after some thought, Ichiroji

"I think the rightmost path seems shortest," he said. "But whichever way we go, we'll surely reach the capital either way. If we brothers stay together, won't it make finding positions harder? Why don't we each take whichever path seems closest and test our own fortunes instead?"

"That's a fine plan," Jiroji agreed at once.
Saburoji felt some sadness at parting from his brothers, but being fundamentally cheerful by nature...

“In that case, let us do as you say,” he said.

Thus, Ichiroji set out along the right path, Jiroji along the middle path, and Saburoji along the left path.
At the moment of parting, Jiroji looked back at his elder and younger brothers while,

“Even if we part here now, if each of us brothers makes our way in the capital, we’re bound to meet again somewhere without fail!” he declared spiritedly.

II. The Right Path

First, let us begin with the story of Ichiroji, who took the Right Path.

Ichiroji parted from his two younger brothers and quickened his pace as he walked onward; the path offered splendid scenery with beautiful autumn flowers blooming profusely along both sides.
After walking two ri, beyond the yellow rice fields appeared a five-story pagoda towering into the blue sky.

“Ah, the capital’s nearly here!” Ichiroji exclaimed, bounding with joy.

However, it was exactly at that moment.
No sooner had a cloud of dust risen ahead on the road than from within that swirling grit emerged a white bull, thrashing its thick iron-like horns side to side as it came charging forth like the wind.
Surely, this bull must have been startled by something and gone mad.
Both eyes were crimson like flames, with such ferocity that it seemed ready to gore anything before it with those horns.

Ichiroji, seeing its terrifying momentum, tried to move his body aside to the roadside, but the bull instead charged straight toward him; in an instant, it seemed to have caught him with both horns and sent him flying over six feet away before kicking up a dust cloud and running off.

Ichiroji, who had been sent flying, felt a pain as if being gouged by a sword beneath his right armpit. He felt certain he was going to die. "Ah, I chose the worst path." "Must I die at the capital's entrance because I took the right path?" he thought. But as the wound's pain intensified within him, he gradually lost consciousness.

How many hours had passed, how many days had passed—Ichiroji did not know.
When he awoke abruptly, he found himself lying in a magnificent palace.
Covering his body was the most exquisite silk bedding he had ever seen in his life.
At his bedside sat medicine in a silver bowl.
Then he suddenly noticed—a beautiful woman was sitting alone in the room.
The strangeness of it all made Ichiroji try to sit up in surprise, but sharp pain flared anew beneath his right armpit.
Seeing Ichiroji regain consciousness, the woman,

“You’ve finally regained consciousness. Please rest assured—there’s no need for concern. This is the residence of Lord Fujiwara no Michiyo, the Minister of the Left. In truth, yesterday while Lord Michiyo was on his way to worship at Kurama Temple, the ox pulling his carriage went berserk and inflicted those severe injuries upon you.”

“Lord Michiyo felt profound remorse over this incident, thinking it would displease Buddha if someone were killed en route to temple worship. He commanded that we provide the most attentive care possible to heal that young man, which is why we brought you to this palace and summoned the capital’s finest physician to tend to you.”

Ichiroji was startled, wondering if this was a dream.

When speaking of Lord Fujiwara no Michiyo, the Minister of the Left, he was the Emperor's foremost retainer, a man so renowned that his fame reached even to the rural corners of Tanba Province.

After a while, the woman spoke as follows.

“Lord Michiyo has said the following:”
“This young man must surely have come from a distant countryside to the capital, with no relatives to speak of.”
“Once your wounds have healed, I shall take you into my service as a retainer,” he declared.

When he heard this, Ichiroji rejoiced so much that he forgot the pain of his wounds.
To become a retainer of Lord Michiyo, the Minister of the Left, represented the greatest possible advancement for Ichiroji, a peasant's son from the countryside.

Ichiroji's wound healed before long.
And as promised, he became a retainer of the Minister of the Left.

Being honest and clever, Ichiroji swiftly rose through the ranks until within ten years—if not sooner—he attained the position of Kebiishi.
He also changed his name to Sakonnojo Kiyotsune.

The Kebiishi was a position that combined the roles of both police chief and court judge—a powerful and prestigious authority whose duty was to apprehend bandits and criminals and bring them to trial.

Ichiroji had risen so high in station, but what of Jiroji who took the middle path and Saburoji who took the left path?

III. The Middle Path

Jiroji, who had taken the middle path, parted from his elder brother and younger brother and quickened his pace as if ready to break into a run, hurrying onward.
But Jiroji's belief that the middle path would be shortest proved a grave miscalculation—though he walked two ri, then three ri, nothing but bamboo thickets lined both sides of the road, the lonely country path continuing endlessly no matter how far he went.
Before long, the autumn day—prone to early dusk—had completely faded without notice, leaving the travelerless road profoundly desolate.

Even Jiroji—the most strong-willed of the three brothers—found himself utterly perplexed.

"Given how things look, there's no way I'll reach the capital tonight," he thought. "I'll find somewhere to stay for the night." Before long, he found a roadside Jizō-sama hall and decided to climb onto its veranda edge to spend the night there.

However, it was around midnight.
Shaking the shoulder of Jiroji, who had fallen asleep,

“Hey, hey.” Someone was shaking him awake.

When Jiroji came to his senses and sat up, he found a stranger’s hand gripping his shoulder. By the light of the moon shining high above, he saw a warrior-like man of formidable build. The man observed Jiroji’s awakening and—

“Hey, where’re you from? Why’re you sleeping in a place like this?” he asked.
Jiroji timidly explained his reason for traveling from Tanba Province to the capital.
Then, the warrior assumed a kindly smile,
“That’s most convenient.”
“My lord would gladly employ any number of young men like you.”
“How about entering service under my lord?” he said.
When he heard this, Jiroji leapt for joy and promptly expressed his desire to enter service immediately.

Before long, Jiroji was led by the warrior to that lord’s mansion. Strangely enough, the warrior did not head toward the capital but turned left from the road and proceeded along a narrow path following a small stream, pressing steadily onward. Jiroji found this slightly strange and asked, “Does this lord you speak of not reside in the capital?” Then, the warrior assumed a nonchalant expression and said, “In the capital there is indeed a residence, but presently he resides by Mizoroga Pond, you see. If you want to see the capital, I’ll take you there tomorrow itself.”

Before long, a large pond came into view ahead on the path, its surface gleaming mirror-like under the moonlight. But this pond had reeds and rushes growing thickly along its banks, with large trees densely surrounding its perimeter—an eerie expanse of water that seemed fit to house a giant serpent.

Jiroji was thinking it strange that a lord’s mansion would be in such a desolate place when the warrior,

“Stay close to me,” he said as he proceeded to walk along a narrow path through the forest of large trees.
They had walked a few hundred yards when suddenly the forest that had surrounded them vanished, revealing a broad plain along the pond’s edge. At its center stood a truly magnificent mansion.
To Jiroji, it was a grand and beautiful mansion unlike anything he had seen in his life.
The warrior leading the way,

“Now, you go ahead and come in without hesitation,” he said as he strode into the mansion. After passing through what felt like countless rooms from the entrance, they arrived at a grand hall. The grand hall was illuminated by countless lamps shining in silver plates, bright as daylight.

When he looked, inside the grand hall were about thirty strong-looking men holding a drinking banquet.
And at the highest spot sat a giant man about six feet tall, cross-legged.
He was an incredibly formidable man—the sort who looked like he could snatch up a lion or tiger with one hand.

The warrior who had brought Jiroji took him before the giant man and,

When he humbly stated, “This young man wishes to enter service, so I have brought him,” the giant man,

"Good，good，" he nodded in a voice like a cracked bell.
From then on，Jiroji drank sake and ate food together with others.
He ate his fill of delicacies unlike anything he'd tasted before.
Jiroji reflected，
"To secure work on arrival day itself plus feasting like this－too good!"
"The middle path I chose was truly blessed，" he concluded.

It was the following evening.
The warrior who had guided Jiroji the previous day came,

“Tonight, the Lord will be coming to the capital.”
“You’ll join us as an attendant,” he said.

Before long, the time for departure finally arrived.
The Lord—a giant man standing nearly six feet tall—lightly swung himself up onto a magnificent white horse.
Following behind, six or seven higher-ranking retainers on horseback trailed after him.
Those who remained formed a procession surrounding the Lord’s horse and walked.
Strangely enough, every last one of the men carried bows, long swords, and the like.
To Jiroji as well, saying "I'll lend this to you," they loaned a long sword.

Jiroji wondered where the Lord could be going so late at night but followed in silence.
Upon crossing the bridge spanning the great river, they found themselves within the capital where rows of splendid houses stood.
There, everyone halted before the grandest house of all.
They began discussing something.

As Jiroji wondered whether this grand house might be the lord’s capital residence he’d heard about, five or six men abruptly broke away from the group and scaled the estate’s wall with practiced ease.
As he gaped in astonishment, the man who had scaled the wall creaked open the gate from within. Then the companions all drew naginata and long swords before stampeding through the entrance.

As Jiroji trembled uncontrollably from sheer terror, the warrior who had guided him the previous day came to his side.

“What a shock you’ve had! The one I called ‘lord’ is Kidomaru—a notorious bandit even the capital fears these days. Since you’ve declared you’ll serve, you can’t back out now. Come now, you’ll keep watch here with me,” he said.

When Jiroji heard this, he was so shocked he nearly collapsed in surprise. Kidomaru was a notorious bandit known throughout Japan at that time—there was no one who didn’t know of him. Jiroji deeply grieved that he had become a bandit’s underling without realizing it. He thought to flee immediately, but the man who had guided him held a bow in hand, and it was clear that if Jiroji tried to escape, he would shoot him dead with a single arrow.

Before long, when screams and the clang of clashing swords erupted from inside the house, the bandits emerged carrying heavy sacks stuffed with gold and silver.

Everyone assembled before the house, then returned along the path they had come.
Jiroji, realizing that attempting to flee would likely get him killed immediately, fearfully followed along from behind as they returned.

When they returned to the mansion at Mizoroga Pond, Kidomaru gathered his men in the grand hall, piled up the stolen gold and silver like a mountain, and distributed it one handful at a time to his subordinates.
As Jiroji trembled in the corner, Kidomaru boomed in a voice like a cracked bell,

“Hey brat, you don’t need to hold back. Here’s a handful for you too,” he said. Fearing he’d be killed if he refused, Jiroji tremblingly accepted it.

But when he took it and looked, it was gold and silver coins—a fortune beyond anything Jiroji had ever dreamed of. Since Jiroji was inherently the most greedy of the three brothers, seeing such a fortune made a wicked impulse stir within him. If money could be earned this easily, he thought it would be fine to join the bandits. And at last, he wholeheartedly became Kidomaru's underling. Naturally clever and courageous, he gradually rose through the ranks among the bandits. After Kidomaru was slain by Lord Minamoto no Yorimitsu, he assumed leadership of the group, renamed himself Tanomaru of Mizoroga Pond, and began raiding houses near the capital.

We have now learned what became of Ichiroji, who took the Right path, and Jiroji, who took the Middle path. Now then, what became of Saburoji, who took the Left path?

IV. Left Path

Saburoji, who had taken the Left path—being both the youngest and kindest of the brothers—felt so desolate upon parting with his two elder brothers that he nearly burst into tears.
But he pulled himself together, thinking this wouldn’t do, and proceeded energetically forward.
This path followed along a wide river.
However, the capital still appeared quite distant, and as dusk began to fall, he finally reached the outskirts of the city.
His legs gave out, and he was so exhausted he couldn't take another step.
While looking around restlessly for an inn, he came along when—

“Excuse me,” a woman called out, stopping Saburoji.

“Yes, yes. Did you call for me?” When Saburoji stopped and asked this, the woman looked at his face and,

“Are you a traveler?” she asked.

“Yes, I am someone coming from Tanba Province to the capital,” he said.
Then, the woman looked delighted,

“In that case—though I must apologize for the inconvenience—please come with me to my master’s residence. I assure you it’s nothing bad at all,” she said politely.

Saburoji was delighted, for in the capital where he knew not a single soul, encountering such a kind person felt like meeting Buddha in hell.

The woman had barely walked fifty meters with Saburoji before entering an imposing residence.
Saburoji followed behind and entered after her.
The estate spanned six or seven hundred meters in circumference, with fifteen or sixteen large storehouses standing in orderly rows within its grounds.

The woman led Saburoji through a long corridor before guiding him to a room at the rear.
When he looked inside, he saw a dazzlingly beautiful room with numerous gold and silver implements arranged in the tokonoma alcove.
As Saburoji stood transfixed by the overwhelming splendor, the woman—

“The one lying over there is my master,” she said.

In the very center of that beautiful room lay an elderly sick person, struggling for breath as he lay on the floor.

Saburoji hesitantly sat down there.
Then the sick person said to the woman,

“Then call my daughter here,” he said.

The woman,

"Yes," she replied, then quietly rose and departed.

As Saburoji sat hesitantly beside the elderly man and waited, a beautiful fifteen- or sixteen-year-old girl soon entered there.
The elderly man turned to Saburoji,

“Are you a traveler?” he asked laboriously.

“Yes, that is correct,” Saburoji answered kindly.
Then, the elderly man half-rose from his sickbed,

“I have a request for you,” he said, hands pressed together as if in prayer. “Will you not hear me out? Will you not grant this dying man’s lifelong wish?”

When Saburoji saw the pitiable state of the suffering patient, he felt such compassion that he answered, “If it’s within my power, I’ll do anything you ask.”

Then the patient let out a sigh of relief. “The request is not some unrelated matter,” he continued. “Would you take my daughter as your bride and inherit this household?”

What must have been Saburoji's astonishment and delight upon hearing this! But upon closer consideration—that a beggar-like peasant like himself could never become son-in-law to such a wealthy household—he thought this elderly man must have gone mad or was jesting, so the honest Saburoji grew slightly indignant and said, "Please stop mocking me like a child. I'm but a peasant's son—no one who could wed into a wealthy household." Then the patient made a sorrowful face,

“It was my fault for not explaining the circumstances,” said the patient laboriously between hacking coughs. “It’s only natural you wouldn’t understand without hearing the reasons. I shall speak of my shame.”

“To begin with—in my lifetime—I’ve amassed a fortune of 100,000 kan [an old currency], so when people speak of ‘the Kamo landowner’ in the capital, there’s none who don’t know me. However, the way I accumulated money was neither honest nor proper. To build my wealth, I committed many wrongs. I lent money to the poor at exorbitant interest rates, extracted heavy taxes from peasants, and sometimes forged deeds to swindle people out of their homes and fields. Moreover, when it came to giving, I never parted with even a single coin. No matter how destitute people were, I never gave them so much as a measure of rice or a copper piece. Because of this, the money piled up effortlessly and rapidly.”

"In return, I came to be utterly despised by society, as if I were a demon or snake.
Until recently, I had thought that as long as I had money, it didn't matter how much people despised me."

"However, this spring, my wife died. Moreover, since the beginning of autumn, I too fell gravely ill. When it comes to children, I have only this daughter. I feared that if I were to die from this illness, my daughter would be left all alone and surely face hardship, so while I still lived, I resolved to find her a good husband and began searching throughout the capital."

"And then, what do you suppose? In households with young men of marriageable age, no matter how much money they had, none would send a son-in-law to the Kamo landowner’s house. 'If they can’t send sons-in-law to a house of demons,' they said, 'there isn’t a single person who would come as a son-in-law.' I believed that with money, I could do anything, but that was my great mistake. I couldn’t even find a husband for my only daughter. When my daughter learned this, she cried every day. I too cried, feeling sorry for my daughter. Even 100,000 kan [an old currency]—such a vast fortune—is now utterly useless."

"My illness has worsened until my life now hangs by a thread—I could die today or tomorrow. When I imagine my daughter left utterly alone in this world after I'm gone, persecuted as the child of a hated man and tormented by society's cruelty, I find myself unable to die even when death should claim me."

I finally came to think this way.
Since all the people in the capital hate the Kamo landowner, there would likely be no one coming as a son-in-law, but travelers would have no reason to hate me—they might come, I thought—so I sent my servants out to the main roads to ask travelers to come.
"How fortunate that someone as splendid as you could come—there could be no greater joy.
If you would save this parent and child, I implore you—please grant my request." No sooner had he spoken these words than the sick man collapsed limply forward as if utterly spent.

Saburoji finally understood the old man's true request. Yet he thought that becoming son-in-law to a household despised like demons throughout the capital might bring terrible misfortunes despite its wealth, and resolved initially to refuse.

But observing both the patient and pitiful daughter weeping quietly—fearing the sick man might expire from grief should he decline—the inherently kind-hearted Saburoji...

“If you entreat me so earnestly, very well—I shall become this household’s son-in-law,” he said.
Then the patient pressed his hands together, appearing to bow reverently toward Saburoji. Having found relief in this resolution, he seemed to relax—and with that breath expired.

Saburoji comforted the grieving daughter, conducted the funeral rites, then took her as his bride and became the second-generation Kamo landowner.
He distributed half of his 100,000-kan fortune—50,000 kan—to paupers throughout the capital.
Now when people gathered in the streets they would say—for such is an honest world—

“The previous Kamo landowner was a demon,” they murmured among themselves.
“This new one’s practically divine!”
“‘Buddha Landowner,’ folks call him now.”

Thus, Saburoji lived harmoniously with his wife, bestowing alms upon the poor, and passed his days in happiness.
A lovely girl named Hanako was born, and before they knew it, about ten years had passed.

Now that Ichiroji, Jiroji, and Saburoji's individual stories had been told, where could the three possibly meet?

V. Three Brothers’ Meeting Place

It was around ten years after the three brothers had parted ways at the three branching paths while journeying to the capital.
Around that time, a complaint arrived at the office of Ichiroji's Saemonnojo Kiyotsune—who now served in the prestigious role of Kebiishi (as previously mentioned, this position combined the duties of modern police chief and court judge)—from the renowned Kamo landowner of the capital.

It was reported that the previous night, not only had a band of about thirty bandits broken into the Kamo landowner’s house and stolen a great deal of money, but had also abducted his daughter Hanako.
Saemonnojo Kiyotsune had long been enraged by the bandits' rampant activities, but now that they were penetrating deep into the capital like this, he concluded he could no longer leave the matter unattended for another moment.
So he gathered about two hundred retainers,

“They say there are rumors of a demon woman residing in Mizoroga Pond along the upper Kamo River. Taking advantage of people steering clear of the place, a notorious bandit leader called Tanomaru has built himself a grand mansion there.”
“The bandits who raided the Kamo landowner’s house must be this Tanomaru. Move out at once and bring him back alive,” he ordered.

It was the next day.
One of the retainers who had gone to Mizoroga Pond came running back.

“Lord，please rejoice．We have successfully captured Tanomaru alive．We have also safely retrieved the landowner’s daughter，Hanako，” he reported．

Saemonnojo was overjoyed and ordered another retainer,

“Go immediately to the Kamo landowner’s house and tell them to come retrieve Hanako,” he ordered.

Before long, Tanomaru, bound hand and foot, was brought to the Kebiishi office.
And he was made to sit on the white sand in the garden.
Just then, the Kamo landowner himself arrived there to retrieve his daughter.
He was sitting on the engawa.

Before long, there was a soft rustling sound, and Saemonnojo—wearing an eboshi cap and splendid robes—calmly made his appearance.
Saemonnojo sat in the highest seat of honor, then looked toward the Kamo landowner,

“Are you the Kamo landowner?” he said.
The landowner, who had been bowing his head until now, raised his face,

“Yes, that is indeed so,” he said.

When Saemonnojo Kiyotsune examined that face closely, it was unmistakably none other than his younger brother Saburoji.
Saemonnojo Kiyotsune involuntarily let out a loud voice,

“Oh! Isn’t this Saburoji?” he exclaimed. Whereupon Saburoji too, forgetting this was the Kebiishi office, said, “Oh, Elder brother?” The two clung to each other and sobbed loudly. However, those crying were not limited to just two. Tanomaru, the bandit sitting on the sand, was writhing in his bonds while clenching his teeth and weeping. Large teardrops fell plopping onto the sand.

Noticing Tanomaru weeping, Ichiroji and Saburoji wondered what could explain this new development and looked at the bandit's face. There was no mistaking it—this was Jiroji: Ichiroji's younger brother and Saburoji's elder sibling.

What must have been the three brothers' shock, joy, and sorrow in that moment? That, I leave for you to ponder, dear readers.

When the three brothers parted ways at the three branching paths, it had been a mere step's difference.
In the end, that mere step's difference had become such a terrible divergence.