Japanese Tales

by Royall Tyler

  “Of course I can!” the old fellow cried. “I’m a veteran at shows like that!” He led the monk some distance up the hillside. “Now,” he said, “close your eyes and open them again when you hear the Buddha preaching. But be careful! Don’t get carried away and imagine that it’s all real! I’ll be in terrible trouble if you do.”

  The old fellow climbed farther up the hill. In a moment the monk heard the Buddha’s voice proclaiming the Teaching and opened his eyes. The ground he stood on was lapis lazuli blue; the trees were all made of gold, silver, and jewels; and straight in front of him sat the Buddha, flanked by Monju and Fugen, on his Lion Throne. An infinite host of adoring saints, bodhisattvas, and gods clustered around the Buddha, before whom sat all the great disciples who appear in the scriptures. Sixteen kings, each the sovereign over a vast realm, were touching their jeweled crowns to the earth in homage, while flowers of four kinds floated down from the sky, exquisite fragrances perfumed the air, and angels filled the heavens with celestial music. The Teaching that poured from the Buddha’s mouth was immeasurably stirring and profound.

  At first the monk was simply awed by the old fellow’s amazing skill; but every wonder, every miraculous touch, conspired to persuade him that this vision really was the moment long ago when the living Buddha preached, and he was quickly swept away. Tears of ecstatic joy sprang to his eyes. Then, lost in adoration, he pressed his palms together, greeted the Buddha aloud, and threw himself prostrate on the ground.

  Suddenly the mountain roared, and the vision vanished as thoroughly as a dream when the dreamer wakes. The monk, almost in shock, found himself as before on the wild mountainside. All he could do was to start walking again.

  He had not gone far before the old fellow was back, complaining bitterly. “I told you not to get carried away!” he scolded. “You promised! Oh, how could you go back on your word like that? Your faith was so strong that it brought all the Guardians and Protectors down, and when they saw my show had taken in a true believer they gave me an awful beating. All my colleagues who were helping me were frightened to death and got away as fast as they could. Oh, I wish I’d just left well enough alone!”

  Then he disappeared.

  121.

  NO FOOL, THE HUNTER

  A seasoned hermit, devoted to the Lotus Sutra, once lived on Mount Atago just northwest of Kyoto. Though he never left his hut, he did not starve, for a hunter who lived nearby and revered him often brought him food.

  The hunter had not been around for a long time when one day he turned up with a sack of dried rice, and the relieved hermit mentioned that he had been getting worried. Then he told the hunter about something wonderful that had been happening. “Perhaps it’s because I’ve been honoring the Sutra so faithfully all these years, I don’t know,” he said, “but the Bodhisattva Fugen has been coming here every night on his white elephant. Stay this evening and adore him with me!”

  The hunter was impressed enough to say he would, but he took the trouble to question the hermit’s boy servant. “What’s the hermit talking about?” he asked. “Have you see Fugen too?”

  “Yes, certainly, half a dozen times,” the boy replied.

  Waiting eagerly behind the hermit, the hunter wondered whether he too would see Fugen. It was the twentieth of the ninth moon, well into fall, and the night was long. At last, past midnight a radiance as of the rising moon shone over the peaks to the east, an eerie wind blew down the mountain, and the hut was filled with light as though illumined by rays from afar. The Bodhisattva Fugen, mounted on his elephant, rode toward them and halted before the hut.

  The hermit worshipped this vision with tears of joy. “And you,” he asked the hunter, “do you see him too?”

  “Indeed I do,” replied the hunter, “and so does the boy. This is extraordinary!”

  Still the hunter was puzzled. He quite understood that the hermit, with all his years of devotion to the Sutra where Fugen figures so prominently, might be given such a blessing. But he could not understand why the boy, and why he himself who knew so little about these things and who above all killed animals for a living, should see the vision too. So he decided there was no reason why he should not test this Fugen.

  Fitting an arrow to the string, he took aim over the hermit (who was prostrate in adoration), drew to the full, and let fly. The arrow seemed to strike the bodhisattva’s chest and the light went out. Something went crashing downhill through the brush.

  “What have you done?” cried the hermit in an agony of distress.

  The hunter explained. “If it really had been Fugen,” he said, “the arrow couldn’t have done any damage. So it must have been some monster.”

  At dawn they followed a trail of blood a hundred yards to the bottom of the ravine, where they found a huge badger lying dead with an arrow through its chest.

  Saintly though he was, the hermit was ignorant too, and so had been open to deception. The hunter, on the other hand, having his wits about him, had killed the badger and exposed its hoax.

  122.

  THE HAIRY ARM

  A man named Sukeyasu was on his way down from the Capital to Tamba province when, after a day of hunting, he sought shelter in an old chapel. A villager from nearby warned him that the chapel was haunted and that people who stayed there disappeared, but Sukeyasu paid no attention and made himself as much at home as he could. What with the blowing snow and the spooky story, however, he did not feel too comfortable.

  There was a babble of eerie voices outside. Peering through a hole in a sliding panel, out into the garden white with snow, he saw the dark, indistinct shape of a monk as tall as the roof. Then a skinny, hairy arm snaked in through the hole and felt over his face. Sukeyasu jumped and the arm withdrew.

  Sukeyasu lay down in a ball to wait, facing the hole. The next time the hairy arm came through he grabbed it, and proved too strong for whatever was now struggling to get its arm back. Lifting out the whole panel, he stepped out on the porch of the chapel with the panel still between him and the owner of the arm. Then he tipped the panel away from him and jumped onto it. The creature may have looked as tall as the roof, but it had to be very small indeed to fit under the panel, especially with Sukeyasu sitting triumphantly on top of it! The arm was skinnier than ever.

  Finally the creature let out a squeak. Sukeyasu had one of his men strike a light, and he found he had caught an old badger. He gave it to his men to look after until he could show it off to the villagers in the morning, but the men just roasted it and ate it. By morning only the head was left. Sukeyasu exhibited it to the villagers anyway.

  Nothing haunted the chapel after that.

  123.

  EXPERT HELP

  An ascetic traveling in the north once came at sundown to a mountain village and asked for lodging. No one would have him, but the villagers told him about an old chapel down in the valley where he could go if he wanted. “They say tengu live there, though,” the villagers remarked.

  Being a master of spells, the ascetic was sure he would come to no harm and went down to the chapel. Actually, though, he was afraid, and he took care to hide up on the altar behind the buddha. Late that night he heard people coming down the mountain and was frightened enough to make the pass of invisibility. Then he held his breath and watched.

  In came two or three dozen young acolytes carrying a palanquin with a plump and distinguished monk inside. When the young fellows had put their superior down, he told them to go outside and play. They all clattered noisily out and began wrestling, dancing, and cavorting about.

  “Hello there, reverend!” called the monk cheerily.

  “Oh no!” groaned the ascetic, for despite his pass of invisibility he obviously could still be seen.

  “You didn’t do your pass right, I’m afraid. That’s why I can still see you. Come here. I’ll show you.”

  The ascetic came out, a tiny bit reassured, and the monk showed him how to do it properly. “I didn’t want those idiots to see this,” he said, “
that’s why I sent them outside.”

  The ascetic went back behind the buddha and tried again.

  “You’re doing fine!” called the monk. “I can’t see you any more!” He called the acolytes back in, and they amused themselves in the chapel awhile. Then the whole party started back up the mountain.

  124.

  RICE CAKES

  A healer and his medium were called to take care of someone who had been possessed by a spirit. As soon as the healer had gotten the spirit over into the medium, it explained, “Curses aren’t really my line at all! I’m just a fox who happened to come by. I live with my little ones over among the tombs, and they’re hungry. I came because I thought you might have food here. If you’ll give me some rice cakes I’ll be on my way.”

  The household served up a nice platter of rice cakes, which the medium ate with happy exclamations about how delicious they were. “That woman!” the people grumbled. “She just faked the possession to get those cakes!”

  “Now if you’ll be kind enough to give me some paper,” the fox continued, “I’ll wrap up the rest and be off with them to my family.”

  The medium carefully wrapped up the cakes and put them into the front fold of her robe, where they made a good bulge all the way up to her bosom.

  “Now dismiss me,” said the fox. “I’ll be going.”

  “Be gone then, be gone!” the healer ordered.

  The medium stood up and instantly collapsed. When she got up again a little later there was nothing in the fold of her robe.

  It was very strange how those rice cakes had disappeared.

  125.

  A MEMORABLE EMPRESS

  The exquisitely beautiful Somedono Empress was the regent’s daughter and the mother of Emperor Montoku. At one time she was persecuted and made ill by an evil spirit, and although the holiest monks and most powerful healers were called in to intervene, nothing they did brought her any relief.

  Now a certain hermit lived high in the Katsuragi Mountains of Yamato province, on a peak named Kongōsen. When he was hungry, he had his begging bowl fly down to the foot of the mountain to get him food, and he sent his water jar to the stream to fill itself when he was thirsty. The wonders he worked spread his fame far and wide till it reached the ears of the emperor and his father-in-law, the regent. They decided that the hermit should pray for the empress and issued an order that he be brought to court.

  The hermit did his best to refuse, but it was hard to turn down a direct summons from the emperor and he finally went. His prayers certainly worked, because he had no sooner begun than one of the empress’s ladies-in-waiting went quite mad and began uttering strange cries. Next, a spirit possessed her and she ran about screaming. The hermit redoubled his efforts, bound the woman with his spells, and threatened the possessing power till an old fox staggered out from the breast of her robe, in no condition to run away. The hermit had the fox tied up and informed the regent, who was enormously relieved. In a day or two the empress was perfectly well.

  The regent was so pleased that he insisted on having the hermit stay awhile longer at court. It was summer. One day when the empress was wearing no more than a nearly transparent gown, a gust of wind lifted her curtains and the hermit caught a brief glimpse of her. This was not the sort of sight he was used to, and the vision of so lovely a woman made his heart pound and his innards crumble to dust. In a word, he fell hopelessly in love with the empress.

  Passion burned in him like fire and caused him terrible agony. Unable to think of anything else, he at last lost his reason, seized an unguarded moment, darted to the empress through her curtains, and held her tight. The horrified empress broke into a sweat of terror but was not strong enough to resist.

  While the hermit strove with might and main to consummate his offense, the ladies-in-waiting saw him and raised the alarm. The physician assigned by the emperor to care for his wife happened to be in attendance nearby and the clamor brought him running. He arrived just as the hermit came out again, and caught him. Next he informed His Majesty, who of course was furious and threw the hermit into prison.

  The prisoner would speak with no one. He only lifted his eyes to heaven, sobbing, and prayed to die and become a demon. “In that form,” he continued, “may I achieve with this empress, while she still lives, the intimacy I crave!” His jailers heard him and warned the regent, who, in a fright, reported the matter to the emperor. His Majesty thought it safest to pardon the hermit and simply return him to his mountain.

  Far from forgetting his lust, the hermit back on Kongōsen pleaded with the buddhas to bring him and the empress together. When he realized that such a thing was impossible in this life, he resolved to become a demon after all. After fasting for over ten days, he died at last of starvation. Instantly he changed into a demon: naked, bald, eight feet tall, and with black, glistening skin. His eyes were like brass bowls and his gaping mouth bristled with knifelike teeth, while short tusks crossed each other from the corners of his upper and lower jaws. Stuck in the red loincloth that was his only garment, he carried a demon’s mallet.

  In this guise he suddenly stood by the empress’s curtains, in broad daylight and plainly visible to anyone. People cowered in terror or fled, while the ladies-in-waiting fainted or simply groveled on the floor and hid under their robes.

  Meanwhile he addled the empress’s brains so thoroughly that she welcomed him with smiles and led him to lie down with her behind her curtains. All the ladies-in-waiting could hear was the demon telling their mistress how fiercely he had wanted her, and their mistress giggling in reply. Then they all ran away.

  When the demon left, around sundown, the ladies-in-waiting rushed back to their mistress wondering what had become of her. She looked the same as ever. In fact, despite the odd gleam in her eye she seemed not to know that anything special had happened.

  On hearing of this fresh incident, His Majesty was less frightened by the demon than worried about what might have happened to his wife. The demon now came daily in just the same way. The empress never showed any fear, although she certainly was in no ordinary state of mind, and she treated him each time simply as a lover. The palace ladies and gentlemen who saw what was going on were very sorry.

  Next, the demon possessed someone to declare that he was “going to get that physician for what he did to me.” The terrified physician soon dropped dead, and all four of his sons also went mad and died.

  By this time the emperor and the regent were beside themselves and called in the holiest men they could find to subdue the demon. Perhaps this worked, because for some time the demon stopped coming and the empress recovered a little of her former self.

  The emperor was of course kept informed, and he was so pleased that he decided to go and see her. Since it was an unusually touching visit, the whole court attended him as he went. He sat with her and told her, in tears, how sorry he was about the whole affair. She herself was moved and in fact seemed quite her old self.

  Just then the demon burst in and made straight for the empress’s private, curtained enclosure. The empress hurried to join him as usual, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. In a moment the demon rushed out again, striking terror into every minister, noble, and official present. The empress followed. And there, in the sight of them all, the pair brazenly performed an unspeakable act. When it was over the demon left, and the empress stood up and withdrew. At a loss for what to think, say, or do, the emperor returned to his palace.

  Let noble ladies then take heed and allow no such hermit to approach them! This sad story should serve as a dire warning to all.

  126.

  QUITE A STINK

  Emperor En’yū had been ill for a long time, and since a spirit was causing the trouble, all the greatest healers of the time had been called in to do their best. Nothing had worked, though, and the emperor was beginning to be afraid.

  Finally someone told him about an ascetic who had been practicing for years on Kōzen, the mountain near Nara. �
��He’s built up such power that he can stop wild animals in mid-run with his spells, and bring down birds from the sky,” the informant went on. “Summon him, Your Majesty! He’ll help you!”

  The ascetic came as fast as he could. All the way to Uji, about half the journey, flowers floated down on him from the sky — a sight that boggled the mind of everyone who saw it. (After Uji there were no more flowers.) The emperor called him in as soon as he got to the palace and had him begin his incantations. In almost no time His Majesty felt perfectly well.

  Some of the great monks and healers whose intervention had failed found this instant success a bit odd. Among the doubters were five men who had just worked together in a particularly powerful Fudō rite.

  “For years we’ve trusted in the Buddha and practiced his Teaching,” one of the five complained. “Day after day we’ve prayed with heart and soul for His Majesty, and still we’ve failed. Who is this ascetic? What’s he done to get such quick success? Perhaps he really is more powerful than any one of us, but he can’t be more powerful than all five of us put together! It doesn’t make sense!”

  Having some more rites to perform, the five took the occasion to get near the ascetic from Kōzen and to direct some special incantations right at him.

  The ascetic was seated by himself, entirely surrounded by curtains. In a moment they heard a vigorous scrabbling and scratching noise from inside the curtains, and a disgusting stink of dogshit filled the room. The nobles present were horrified, and so was His Majesty, but the five monks could tell that the truth about that ascetic was now beginning to come out. They redoubled their efforts.