Japanese Fairy Tales

by Yei Theodora Ozaki

  “Good-bye,” and before the sound of the last farewell had died away the Happy Hunter passed out from under the great gateway, past the well of happy memory standing in the shade of the great katsura trees on his way to the beach.

  Here he found, instead of the queer basket on which he had come to the Realm of Ryn Gu, a large crocodile waiting for him.

  Never had he seen such a huge creature. It measured eight fathoms in length from the tip of its tail to the end of its long mouth. The Sea King had ordered the monster to carry the Happy Hunter back to Japan. Like the wonderful basket which Shiwozuchino Okina had made, it could travel faster than any steamboat, and in this strange way, riding on the back of a crocodile, the Happy Hunter returned to his own land.

  As soon as the crocodile landed him, the Happy Hunter hastened to tell the Skilful Fisher of his safe return. He then gave him back the fishing hook which had been found in the mouth of the tai and which had been the cause of so much trouble between them. He earnestly begged his brother’s forgiveness, telling him all that had happened to him in the Sea King’s Palace and what wonderful adventures had led to the finding of the hook.

  Now the Skilful Fisher had used the lost hook as an excuse for driving his brother out of the country. When his brother had left him that day three years ago, and had not returned, he had been very glad in his evil heart and had at once usurped his brother’s place as ruler of the land, and had become powerful and rich. Now in the midst of enjoying what did not belong to him, and hoping that his brother might never return to claim his rights, quite unexpectedly there stood the Happy Hunter before him.

  He took out the Jewel of the Flood Tide.

  The Skilful Fisher feigned forgiveness, for he could make no more excuses for sending his brother away again, but in his heart he was very angry and hated his brother more and more, till at last he could no longer bear the sight of him day after day, and planned and watched for an opportunity to kill him.

  One day when the Happy Hunter was walking in the rice fields his brother followed him with a dagger. The Happy Hunter knew that his brother was following him to kill him, and he felt that now, in this hour of great danger, was the time to use the Jewels of the Flow and Ebb of the Tide and prove whether what the Sea King had told him was true or not.

  So he took out the Jewel of the Flood Tide from the bosom of his dress and raised it to his forehead. Instantly over the fields and over the farms the sea came rolling in wave upon wave till it reached the spot where his brother was standing. The Skilful Fisher stood amazed and terrified to see what was happening. In another minute he was struggling in the water and calling on his brother to save him from drowning.

  The Happy Hunter had a kind heart and could not bear the sight of his brother’s distress. He at once put back the Jewel of the Flood Tide and took out the Jewel of the Ebb Tide. No sooner did he hold it up as high as his forehead than the sea ran back and back, and ere long the tossing rolling floods had vanished, and the farms and fields and dry land appeared as before.

  The Skilful Fisher was very frightened at the peril of death in which he had stood, and was greatly impressed by the wonderful things he had seen his brother do. He learned now that he was making a fatal mistake to set himself against his brother, younger than he though he was, for he had now become so powerful that the sea would flow in and the tide ebb at his word of command. So he humbled himself before the Happy Hunter and asked him to forgive him all the wrong he had done him. The Skilful Fisher promised to restore his brother to his rights and also swore that though the Happy Hunter was the younger brother and owed him allegiance by right of birth, that he, the Skilful Fisher, would exalt him as his superior and bow before him as Lord of all Japan.

  Then the Happy Hunter said that he would forgive his brother if he would throw into the receding tide all his evil ways. The Skilful Fisher promised and there was peace between the two brothers. From this time he kept his word and became a good man and a kind brother.

  The Happy Hunter now ruled his Kingdom without being disturbed by family strife, and there was peace in Japan for a long, long time. Above all the treasures in his house he prized the wonderful Jewels of the Flow and Ebb of the Tide which had been given him by Ryn Jin, the Dragon King of the Sea.

  This is the congratulatory ending of the Happy Hunter and the Skilful Fisher.

  The Old Man Who Made Withered Trees to Flower

  LONG, long ago there lived an old man and his wife who supported themselves by cultivating a small plot of land. Their life had been a very happy and peaceful one save for one great sorrow, and this was that they had no child. Their only pet was a dog named Shiro, and on him they lavished all the affection of their old age.

  Indeed, they loved him so much that whenever they had anything nice to eat they denied themselves to give it to Shiro. Now Shiro means “white,” and he was so called because of his colour. He was a real Japanese dog, and very like a small wolf in appearance.

  The happiest hour of the day both for the old man and his dog was when the man returned from his work in the field, and having finished his frugal supper of rice and vegetables, would take what he had saved from the meal out to the little verandah that ran round the cottage. Sure enough, Shiro was waiting for his master and the evening tit-bit. Then the old man said “Chin, chin!” and Shiro sat up and begged, and his master gave him the food. Next door to this good old couple there lived another old man and his wife who were both wicked and cruel, and who hated their good neighbours and the dog Shiro with all their might. Whenever Shiro happened to look into their kitchen they at once kicked him or threw something at him, sometimes even wounding him.

  One day Shiro was heard barking for a long time in the field at the back of his master’s house. The old man, thinking that perhaps some birds were attacking the corn, hurried out to see what was the matter. As soon as Shiro saw his master he ran to meet him, wagging his tail, and, seizing the end of his kimono, dragged him under a large yenoki tree. Here he began to dig very industriously with his paws, yelping with joy all the time. The old man, unable to understand what it all meant, stood looking on in bewilderment.

  But Shiro went on barking and digging with all his might.

  The deeper he Dug the more Gold Coins did the Old Man find.

  The thought that something might be hidden beneath the tree, and that the dog had scented it, at last struck the old man. He ran back to the house, fetched his spade and began to dig the ground at that spot. What was his astonishment when, after digging for some time, he came upon a heap of old and valuable coins, and the deeper he dug the more gold coins did he find. So intent was the old man on his work that he never saw the cross face of his neighbour peering at him through the bamboo hedge. At last all the gold coins lay shining on the ground. Shiro sat by erect with pride and looking fondly at his master as if to say, “You see, though only a dog, I can make some return for all the kindness you show me.”

  The old man ran in to call his wife, and together they carried home the treasure. Thus in one day did the poor old man become rich. His gratitude to the faithful dog knew no bounds, and he loved and petted him more than ever, if that were possible.

  The cross old neighbour, attracted by Shiro’s barking, had been an unseen and envious witness of the finding of the treasure. He began to think that he, too, would like to find a fortune. So a few days later he called at the old man’s house and very ceremoniously asked permission to borrow Shiro for a short time.

  Shiro’s master thought this a strange request, because he knew quite well that not only did his neighbour not love his pet dog, but that he never lost an opportunity of striking and tormenting him whenever the dog crossed his path. But the good old man was too kind-hearted to refuse his neighbour, so he consented to lend the dog on the condition that he should be taken great care of.

  The wicked old man returned to his home with an evil smile
on his face, and told his wife how he had succeeded in his crafty intentions. He then took his spade and hastened to his own field, forcing the unwilling Shiro to follow him. As soon as he reached a yenoki tree, he said to the dog, threateningly:

  “If there were gold coins under your master’s tree, there must also be gold coins under my tree. You must find them for me!

  Where are they? Where? Where?”

  And catching hold of Shiro’s neck he held the dog’s head to the ground, so that Shiro began to scratch and dig in order to free himself from the horrid old man’s grasp.

  The old man was very pleased when he saw the dog begin to scratch and dig, for he at once supposed that some gold coins lay buried under his tree as well as under his neighbour’s, and that the dog had scented them as before; so pushing Shiro away he began to dig himself, but there was nothing to be found. As he went on digging a foul smell was noticeable, and he at last came upon a refuse heap.

  The old man’s disgust can be imagined. This soon gave place to anger. He had seen his neighbour’s good fortune, and hoping for the same luck himself, he had borrowed the dog Shiro; and now, just as he seemed on the point of finding what he sought, only a horrid smelling refuse heap had rewarded him for a morning’s digging. Instead of blaming his own greed for his disappointment, he blamed the poor dog. He seized his spade, and with all his strength struck Shiro and killed him on the spot. He then threw the dog’s body into the hole which he had dug in the hope of finding a treasure of gold coins, and covered it over with the earth. Then he returned to his house, telling no one, not even his wife, what he had done.

  After waiting several days, as the dog Shiro did not return, his master began to grow anxious. Day after day went by, and the good old man waited in vain. Then he went to his neighbour and asked him to give him back his dog. Without any shame or hesitation, the wicked neighbour answered that he had killed Shiro because of his bad behaviour. At this dreadful news Shiro’s master wept many sad and bitter tears. Great, indeed, was his woeful surprise, but he was too good and gentle to reproach his bad neighbour. Learning that Shiro was buried under the yenoki tree in the field, he asked the old man to give him the tree, in remembrance of his poor dog Shiro.

  Even the cross old neighbour could not refuse such a simple request, so he consented to give the old man the tree under which Shiro lay buried. Shiro’s master then cut the tree down and carried it home. Out of the trunk he made a mortar. In this his wife put some rice, and he began to pound it with the intention of making a festival to the memory of his dog Shiro.

  A strange thing happened! His wife put the rice into the mortar, and no sooner had he begun to pound it to make the cakes, than it began to increase in quantity gradually till it was about five times the original amount, and the cakes were turned out of the mortar as if an invisible hand were at work.

  When the old man and his wife saw this, they understood that it was a reward to them from Shiro for their faithful love to him. They tasted the cakes and found them nicer than any other food. So from this time they never troubled about food, for they lived upon the cakes with which the mortar never ceased to supply them.

  The greedy neighbour, hearing of this new piece of good luck, was filled with envy as before, and called on the old man and asked leave to borrow the wonderful mortar for a short time, pretending that he, too, sorrowed for the death of Shiro, and wished to make cakes for a festival to the dog’s memory.

  The old man did not in the least wish to lend it to his cruel neighbour, but he was too kind to refuse. So the envious man carried home the mortar, but he never brought it back.

  Several days passed, and Shiro’s master waited in vain for the mortar, so he went to call on the borrower, and asked him to be good enough to return the mortar if he had finished with it. He found him sitting by a big fire made of pieces of wood. On the ground lay what looked very much like pieces of a broken mortar.

  In answer to the old man’s inquiry, the wicked neighbour answered haughtily:

  “Have you come to ask me for your mortar? I broke it to pieces, and now I am making a fire of the wood, for when I tried to pound cakes in it only some horrid smelling stuff came out.”

  The good old man said:

  “I am very sorry for that. It is a great pity you did not ask me for the cakes if you wanted them. I would have given you as many as ever you wanted. Now please give me the ashes of the mortar, as I wish to keep them in remembrance of my dog.”

  The Withered Tree at once Burst into Full Bloom.

  The neighbour consented at once, and the old man carried home a basket full of ashes.

  Not long after this the old man accidentally scattered some of the ashes made by the burning of the mortar on the trees of his garden. A wonderful thing happened!

  It was late in autumn and all the trees had shed their leaves, but no sooner did the ashes touch their branches than the cherry trees, the plum trees, and all other blossoming shrubs burst into bloom, so that the old man’s garden was suddenly transformed into a beautiful picture of spring. The old man’s delight knew no bounds, and he carefully preserved the remaining ashes.

  The story of the old man’s garden spread far and wide, and people from far and near came to see the wonderful sight.

  One day, soon after this, the old man heard some one knocking at his door, and going to the porch to see who it was he was surprised to see a Knight standing there. This Knight told him that he was a retainer of a great Daimio (Earl); that one of the favourite cherry trees in this nobleman’s garden had withered, and that though everyone in his service had tried all manner of means to revive it, none took effect. The Knight was sore perplexed when he saw what great displeasure the loss of his favourite cherry tree caused the Daimio. At this point, fortunately, they had heard that there was a wonderful old man who could make withered trees to blossom, and that his Lord had sent him to ask the old man to come to him.

  “And,” added the Knight, “I shall be very much obliged if you will come at once.”

  The good old man was greatly surprised at what he heard, but respectfully followed the Knight to the nobleman’s Palace.

  The Daimio, who had been impatiently awaiting the old man’s coming, as soon as he saw him asked him at once:

  “Are you the old man who can make withered trees flower even out of season?”

  The old man made an obeisance, and replied:

  “I am that old man!”

  Then the Daimio said:

  “You must make that dead cherry tree in my garden blossom again by means of your famous ashes. I shall look on.”

  Then they all went into the garden—the Daimio and his retainers and the ladies-in-waiting, who carried the Daimio’s sword.

  The old man now tucked up his kimono and made ready to climb the tree. Saying “Excuse me,” he took the pot of ashes which he had brought with him, and began to climb the tree, everyone watching his movements with great interest.

  At last he climbed to the spot where the tree divided into two great branches, and taking up his position here, the old man sat down and scattered the ashes right and left all over the branches and twigs.

  Wonderful, indeed, was the result! The withered tree at once burst into full bloom! The Daimio was so transported with joy that he looked as if he would go mad. He rose to his feet and spread out his fan, calling the old man down from the tree. He himself gave the old man a wine cup filled with the best saké, and rewarded him much silver and gold and many other precious things. The Daimio ordered that henceforth the old man should call himself by the name of Hana-Saka-Fijii, or “The Old Man who makes the Trees to Blossom,” and that henceforth all were to recognise him by this name, and he sent him home with great honour.

  The Daimio ordered his Retainers to put the Impostor in Prison.

  The wicked neighbour, as before, heard of the good old
man’s fortune, and of all that had so auspiciously befallen him, and he could not suppress all the envy and jealousy that filled his heart.

  He called to mind how he had failed in his attempt to find the gold coins, and then in making the magic cakes; this time surely he must succeed if he imitated the old man, who made withered trees to flower simply by sprinkling ashes on them. This would be the simplest task of all.

  So he set to work and gathered together all the ashes which remained in the fireplace from the burning of the wonderful mortar. Then he set out in the hope of finding some great man to employ him, calling out loudly as he went along:

  “Here comes the wonderful man who can make withered trees blossom! Here comes the old man who can make dead trees blossom!”

  The Daimio in his Palace heard this cry, and said:

  “That must be the Hana-Saka-Fijii passing. I have nothing to do to-day. Let him try his art again; it will amuse me to look on.”

  So the retainers went out and brought in the impostor before their Lord. The satisfaction of the false old man can now be imagined.

  But the Daimio looking at him, thought it strange that he was not at all like the old man he had seen before, so he asked him:

  “Are you the man whom I named Hana-Saka-Fiji?”

  And the envious neighbour answered with a lie: