

### 10 of the Best Stories from Kenji Miyazawa & Nankichi Niimi

### Tales from a Japanese Dreamland: Book 5

### by

Kenji Miyazawa & Nankichi Niimi

Published by Little J Books at Smashwords

Copyright Paul Quirk 2013

Translated from - _Serohiki no go-shu_ by Kenji Miyazawa

_Yodaka no hoshi_ by Kenji Miyazawa

_Yamanashi_ by Kenji Miyazawa

_Chuumon no ooi ryoriten_ by Kenji Miyazawa

_Kenju koenrin_ by Kenji Miyazawa

_Ame ni mo makezu_ by Kenji Miyazawa

_Gongitsune_ by Nankichi Niimi

_Ojiisan no rampu_ by Nankichi Niimi

_Oootoko no hanashi_ by Nankichi Niimi

_Hananoki mura to nusubito_ by Nankichi Niimi

_Tebukuro wo kaini_ by Nankichi Niimi

Cover image: by Tamie Oda

Discover other titles by Kenji Miyazawa and Nankichi Niimi published by Little J Books at <http://www.littlejbooks.com/>

Please note, copyright on the original works have expired, however, Little J Books holds all copyrights for these translations. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher. The moral right of the translator has been asserted.

License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. However, if you would like to use any of the stories that make up this ebook for business or educational purposes, please contact Paul at the email address below. We look forward to hearing from you.

This book is published by Little J Books

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Website: <http://www.littlejbooks.com/>

Contact: info@littlejbooks.com

Postal mail: 394-2 Kubohara, Yamaoka-cho, Ena-shi, Gifu-ken, Japan, Postcode 509-7601

Note on these translations

Where necessary chapters have been added to make navigation easier in an ebook format. Gauche the Cellist, for example, didn't originally contain any chapters.

Further notes on the translations will be added to the www.Littlejbooks.com website over time. Please email me if you have any questions!!

This series is dedicated to my wife Yuuki, who has provided me with the support and encouragement to make this project a reality.
Contents

Gauche the Cellist

Nighthawk Star

Wild Pear – Yamanashi

The Restaurant of Many Orders

Kenju's Forest Playground

Ame-ni-mo makezu

Gon the Fox

Grandpa's Lamp

The Story of the Giant

When the Thieves Came to Hananoki Village

Buying Mittens

About the Authors

About Little J Books

Other Titles by Little J Books
Gauche the Cellist

by Kenji Miyazawa

Chapter One

Gauche played the cello in the orchestra for the town theater. But his reputation wasn't very good. In fact he was the worst of all the musicians, so the conductor was always picking on him.

It was afternoon and the musicians were sitting in a circle backstage, rehearsing Symphony No. 6 that they were due to play in the upcoming town concert.

The trumpets sang out at the top of their voice.

The violins cried like the wind.

The clarinets blew with passion, cheering them on.

Gauche was staring wide-eyed at his music, his lips pursed tight, playing with total concentration.

The conductor clapped his hands together. Everyone stopped dead and the room fell silent.

"Cello! You're behind!" the conductor yelled. "Start again from ♬-Toh-Teh-Teh, Teh-Teh-Ti-♬. Begin!"

They went back a little and started again. Gauche's face was bright red and sweat was streaming from his brow as they finally moved passed the section where the conductor had yelled at him. He gave a sigh of relief as they continued on, but suddenly the conductor clapped his hands together again.

"Cello, you're out of tune! Goodness! I haven't time to be teaching you Do-Re-Mi!"

Feeling sorry for Gauche, the other musicians pretended to be busy reading their sheet music and checking their instruments. Gauche hurriedly tuned his cello. Of course Gauche was to blame, but the cello was in pretty bad shape too.

"Start again from one bar back. Begin!"

They started again. Gauche was trying as hard as he could, his mouth screwed to one side. And this time they continued on for some time. But just as they were settling into a nice rhythm, the conductor made a terrifying face and clapped his hands a third time. Not again, thought Gauche with dread, but thankfully this time it was someone else. Like the others had done before, Gauche put his face in his music and pretended to be thinking about something.

"OK, let's move on to the next section. Begin."

But just as they began to play, the conductor stamped his foot on the floor and began to yell.

"No, no, no! That's not it at all! This bit is the heart of the piece. Your timing is all over the place! People! There are only ten days to the concert. How can we call ourselves professional musicians if we sound worse than a group of blacksmiths or the boys from the sweets shop?!

"And Gauche! I don't know what to do with you. Your music doesn't have any emotion. There's no anger, no pleasure, there's no feeling to it at all! And why can't you play in time with the other instruments?! It's like you're always walking behind everyone with your shoelaces trailing behind you. It's not good enough and you're going to have to do better. What a shame it would be for the rest of the musicians if the great Venus Orchestra got stuck with a bad reputation because of you.

"Alright, that's enough for today. Take your breaks and be back in the box by six sharp for tonight's performance."

After bowing to the conductor the musicians started lighting their cigarettes or walking off for their breaks. Gauche held his battered old box-like cello, turned to face the wall, screwed up his mouth and burst into tears, but then, pulling himself together, he began to quietly play from the beginning the section they'd just been practicing now, all by himself.
Chapter Two

Later that same evening, Gauche returned home carrying a big black object on his back. It wasn't really a house he lived in, but rather a run-down water mill by the river on the outskirts of town where he lived all alone, pruning tomatoes and plucking caterpillars from the cabbages in his small veggie patch each morning, before heading into town in the afternoon.

Gauche went inside, turned on the light and opened up the black package. It was nothing; just that battered old cello from earlier in the day. After placing it gently on the floor, he quickly grabbed a glass from the shelf, scooped some water from out of a bucket, and gulped it down.

He then shook his head, sat down in a chair and started to play that same music from the afternoon with the ferocity of a raging tiger. He continued to play and think as he turned the pages, thinking and playing, as best as he could, until he reached the end, starting again, playing goh, goh, goh, over and over and over again.

Midnight had long since passed and Gauche looked as if he didn't even know he was still playing, his face bright red, his eyes bloodshot; he was ready to pass out at any moment. Just then there was a knock at the backdoor.

"Is that you Hauche?" cried out Gauche in a daze.

But nudging open the door and slipping into the room was a large calico cat he'd seen five or six times before.

It was struggling to carry a half-ripe tomato it'd taken from Gauche's tomato patch, placing it at Gauche's feet.

"Aah! I'm pooped! Carrying that was hard work."

"What's that?" asked Gauche.

"Just a little something for you. Eat up," offered the cat.

Gauche's frustration from the afternoon boiled over and he began to yell,

"WHO told you to bring a tomato here anyway!? Firstly, do you think I'm going to eat something you dragged in? And second of all, that tomato is mine! Look at that. You've picked one that's not even red. I bet it's you who's been chewing on the stems and digging up the roots. GET OUT! BLASTED CAT!"

The cat arched its back and squinted at Gauche, but smirked as it replied;

"Master Gauche, don't get so worked up, it's not good for you. Rather, why don't you play Schumann's Traumerei? I'll listen for you."

"Don't be so cheeky! What would a cat know!?"

The cat was getting on his nerves and Gauche sat thinking about what to do with it.

"Please, no need to be shy. Go right ahead. For some reason I can't get to sleep unless I hear you play."

"CHEEKY! CHEEKY! CHEEKY!"

Gauche's face turned bright red and he yelled and stamped his foot like the conductor had done that afternoon, but then suddenly he had a change of heart.

"Alright then, I'll play."

Curiously, he walked over and locked the door and closed all the windows, then picked up his cello and turned off the lamp. The light from the moon in its last quarter poured into the room.

"What was it you wanted me to play?"

"Traumerei, by Schumann the Romantic," said the cat nonchalantly, wiping a paw across its mouth.

"Oh right. Is Traumerei the one that goes like this?"

Gauche tore up a handkerchief and stuffed it tightly into his ears. Then, with the ferocity of a raging storm, he launched into Tiger Hunting in India.

At first the cat sat listening with its head cocked sideways, but then started blinking rapidly, and suddenly jumped backwards towards the door. It slammed into the door with a loud thud, but the door stayed shut. The cat panicked as if realizing it had made a-once-in-a-lifetime blunder, and sparks began to fly from its eyes and forehead. Before long the sparks spread to its whiskers and nose, and for an instant, it stopped as if being tickled and were about to sneeze, before suddenly taking off as if unable to stand still one second longer. Gauche was thoroughly enjoying himself, and played with greater and greater intensity.

"Master Gauche, that's enough. That's enough! I'm begging you, please stop! I promise I won't interrupt you again."

"Shush! I'm just about to catch the tiger."

The cat was jumping around the room and clinging to the walls in a state of agony, leaving glowing blue marks wherever it went. Finally it started circling Gauche like a windmill.

Gauche started to feel a little dizzy himself, so he said to the cat,

"Ok, that'll do you," and stopped.

Acting as if nothing happened, the cat said,

"Master Gauche, your performance is really off tonight."

This annoyed Gauche even more, but this time he simply pulled out a cigarette and placed it in his mouth, and taking out a match, he asked the cat,

"Are you alright? You haven't hurt yourself have you? Give us a look at your tongue."

The cat poked out its long pointy tongue as if making fun.

"Oh, it looks a little rough," said Gauche, before quickly striking his match on the cat's tongue and lighting his cigarette.

Stupefied, the cat swung its tongue around and around like a pinwheel as it raced toward the door, banging its head with a thud and stumbling backwards, coming back and banging its head with a thud and stumbling backwards again, and then coming back and banging its head with a thud and stumbling backwards again, trying to barge its way out.

Gauche watched on amused for a little while, but then said,

"Alright, I'll let you out. Don't come back, you silly cat!"

Gauche opened the door, and couldn't help but laugh as he watched the cat run off like the wind through the wild grass. After that he fell into a deep sleep and woke feeling completely refreshed.
Chapter Three

The next evening also, Gauche returned home carrying his cello wrapped up on his back. After gulping down a glass of water he began playing just like he had the night before.

Midnight soon passed, and one O'clock, then two O'clock came and went, but still Gauche played on. As he continued playing and playing, no longer aware of the time or even that he was still playing, he could hear someone knocking from up on the roof.

"Cat, haven't you learnt your lesson?" yelled Gauche, but the next moment there was a loud fluttering sound, and a single grey bird flew in through a hole in the ceiling. As it landed on the floor, Gauche could see it was a cuckoo bird.

"Even the birds are coming! What do you want?" asked Gauche.

"I want to learn music," replied the cuckoo calmly.

Gauche laughed,

"Music!? Don't you just go cuckoo, cuckoo?"

The cuckoo became very serious,

"Yes, that's it. But it's quite difficult, you know."

"How hard could it be? It might be hard singing so much, but there's not much to the singing itself, is there?"

"Actually, it's really very difficult. Why, if one cuckoo bird sings ♬-cuckoo-♬ like this, and another sings ♬-cuckoo-♬ like this, you'll notice they sound completely different.

"Sounds the same."

"Well you just don't know, that's all. If ten thousand cuckoos sang ♬-cuckoo-♬, then all ten thousand would be different."

"Whatever you say. If you know all that then what are you doing coming to me?"

"Well you see, I want to be able to do the proper Do-Re-Mi."

"As if birds have Do-Re-Mi!"

"Yes, I need it before I go overseas."

"As if birds have overseas!"

"Master Gauche, could you please teach me Do-Re-Mi? I'll follow your lead."

"Boy, you are irritating. Alright, I'll play it three times and you'd better be leaving as soon as I'm done."

Gauche stood up his cello, strummed it a couple of times to tune it, and started playing ♬-Do-Re-Mi-Fa-So-La-Ti-Do-♬. The cuckoo noisily flapped its wings.

"That's not it, that's not it. It doesn't go like that!"

"You are irritating. Let's hear your version then."

"It's like this," and the cuckoo bent forward, braced itself momentarily, and let out a single,

♬-cuckoo-♬.

"Huh?! That's your Do-Re-Mi? Do-Re-Mi, Symphony No. 6, it's all the same to a cuckoo bird."

"No, that's not true."

"How isn't it?"

"It's difficult when you have to sing it over and over."

"You mean like this?" and Gauche took hold of his cello and played ♬-cuckoo-cuckoo-cuckoo-cuckoo-cuckoo-♬, over and over and over.

The cuckoo bird became ecstatic and joined in, singing ♬-cuckoo-cuckoo-cuckoo-♬. Bending forward as far as it could, it sang on and on and on. Gauche's hand eventually became sore, "Alright, that'll do," he said, and finished playing.

The cuckoo lowered its eyes sadly as it continued to sing, before slowly trailing off, ♬-cuckoo-cuckoo-cuck...cuck...koo...-♬

Gauche became furious,

"Look bird, if there's nothing else then go home!" he yelled.

"Please, if you could just play it one more time. Yours is pretty good, it's just a little off."

"What did you say? I'm not taking lessons from you, you know. Aren't you going home?"

"Please, just one more time. Please," begged the cuckoo, bowing its head over and over.

"Alright, but no more after this."

Gauche readied his bow. The cuckoo let out a "Koo" as it took a breath,

"Now, please play as long as you can," it said, bowing one more time.

"What a pain you are," said Gauche, giving a wry smile as he started to play.

The cuckoo became completely serious, bending forward and singing "♬-cuckoo-cuckoo-♬, with everything it had. At first Gauche was annoyed, but as he continued to play on and on, he started to get the feeling that it was actually the cuckoo that had the proper Do-Re-Mi. In fact, the more he played, the more he felt the bird had it right.

"Ah... if I keep this up I'll turn into a bird myself," said Gauche, and stopped all of a sudden.

The bird started to sway as if it had been whacked on the head, and then trailed off as before,

♬-cuckoo-cuckoo-cuckoo-cuck...cuck...koo...koo...-♬

It looked angrily up at Gauche,

"Why did you stop there? Even the wimpiest of cuckoos keep singing until their throats start to bleed."

"Oh, you're so cheeky! How long do I have to put up with your idiocy anyway? Go home! Look. It's nearly morning," said Gauche, pointing out the window.

The eastern sky had taken on a silvery haze and the pitch black clouds were moving steadily toward the north.

"Ok, then please play until the sun comes up. One more time. Only a little more," pleaded the cuckoo, bowing its head again.

"Shut up! What are you talking about, you silly bird. If you don't get out of here I'm going to pluck you and eat you for breakfast!" yelled Gauche, stamping his foot on the floor.

Frightened, the cuckoo suddenly took off, making straight for the window. It smashed its head straight into the glass, falling down with a thump.

"You flew straight into the glass, you silly bird," said Gauche as he rushed to open the window, but this window wasn't one that ever opened smoothly.

As Gauche stood trying to rattle it loose from its frame, the cuckoo once again flew smack into the glass and fell down onto the floor. He could see blood trickling from the top of its beak.

"Can't you see I'm trying to open it?! Just wait!" said Gauche, who had barely managed to prize open the window a couple of inches when the cuckoo got back to its feet, and, staring out at the eastern sky with a look that said 'it's now or never,' took off with every ounce of energy it could muster. Of course this time it hit the glass harder than ever, falling down to the floor with a thump where it lay motionless for some time. Gauche reached down to grab it and throw it out the front door, but suddenly the cuckoo opened its eyes and leapt backwards. Then it flew at the glass one more time.

Without thinking, Gauche raised his foot and gave the window a good kick. The glass gave out a massive crack as it broke into two and then three shards, the entire window falling out of the building, frame and all. The cuckoo shot out through the gaping hole like an arrow. It continued flying on and on, in an endless straight line, until eventually it was out of sight. Gauche stood staring out after it with a look of amazement on his face, before crashing in a corner of the room and falling asleep.
Chapter Four

The next evening also, Gauche was having a cup of water, exhausted from once again practicing his cello into the early hours, when he again heard a knock at the door. He had decided that tonight, he would frighten off whatever animal appeared as soon as they came, like he had finally done to the cuckoo the previous night, and he stood waiting with his cup in hand, when the door opened just a fraction, and in walked a little raccoon dog. Gauche pushed the door open a little wider and stamped his foot on the ground,

"Hey, raccoon dog! Do you know what raccoon dog soup is?" he yelled.

The little raccoon dog gave a confused look as he neatly sat himself down on the floor, and for a few moments he cocked his head sideways, thinking as hard as he could, before finally replying,

"No, I don't know what raccoon dog soup is."

After watching the raccoon dog's face Gauche nearly burst out laughing, but forced himself to look as mean as possible,

"Then I'll tell you," said Gauche. "To make raccoon dog soup, you start with a raccoon dog, like yourself, mix in some cabbage and some salt, then boil it for a few hours, and then that gets eaten by people, like me."

The little raccoon dog looked up at Gauche with a confused expression on its face,

"But my pa said that you were really nice, and that you weren't scary at all, and that I should go and take a lesson from you."

Gauche burst out laughing.

"What did he tell you to learn? Don't you know how busy I am? And sleepy too."

Encouraged, the little raccoon dog took a step closer in.

"I play the snare drum. My pa told me to go learn to play with the cello."

"I don't see any snare drum."

"Ah, here," said the little raccoon dog as he grabbed two sticks from his back.

"What are you going to do with them?"

"So, please play The Merry Coach House."

"What's The Merry Coach House? Is that jazz?"

"Um, this is the music here," said the little raccoon dog, grabbing a sheet of music from his back.

Gauche laughed as he took the music.

"Hmm, this looks a little weird. Alright, I'm gonna start playing. So are you going to play the snare drum, are you?" As he began to play, Gauche continued to glance down at the raccoon dog, waiting to see what it was going to do.

Using his sticks, the little raccoon dog started tapping ♬rat-a-tat-tat-♬ directly beneath the cello's bridge, in time to the music. In fact he was really quite good and Gauche started to enjoy himself. When they reached the end of the piece, the little raccoon dog cocked its head sideways in thought.

Then, as if finally working out a difficult problem, he said to Gauche,

"Master Gauche, when you play on that second string, you fall just a bit behind, don't you? It puts me off my rhythm a little."

Gauche was taken aback. Ever since last night he'd had the feeling that no matter how quickly he played that string, the sound never came out straight away.

"Hmm, you might be right. It's the cello," replied Gauche dejectedly. The little raccoon dog gave Gauche a sympathetic look and was again lost in thought, but then said,

"I wonder what's wrong with it. Could you play one more time?"

"Alright, here I go," said Gauche and started again.

This time, the little raccoon dog tapped on the bottom of the cello like before, but every now and then he placed his ear up against the bottom of the cello. When they reached the end, a silver haze was once again showing in the eastern sky.

"Ah, the sun's coming up. Thank you very much." The little raccoon dog hurriedly placed his music and sticks on his back and tied them down with an elastic band, bowed two, three times and then left.

Gauche stood dreamily breathing the fresh air blowing in through the hole where the window had fallen out the previous night, but then thinking to get a decent rest before going into town, he quickly jumped into bed.

Chapter Five

The next evening also, Gauche had been practicing his cello all through the night, and with dawn approaching, had started to fall asleep with the sheet music in his hands, when something knocked at the door. It was so faint, it was barely even audible, but this being a nightly occurrence, Gauche soon called out, "Come in!"

Making its way in through a gap in the door was a field mouse. With it was a tiny baby mouse, and together they scampered over toward Gauche. The baby field mouse was no bigger than an eraser, and Gauche couldn't help but laugh. The mouse stopped in front of Gauche, staring up at him as if wondering what he was laughing at, before placing a green chestnut at its feet and bowing politely.

"Master Gauche, this child is not well and looks like he might die. Have mercy and save him please."

"But I'm no doctor!" answered Gauche somewhat bewildered.

The mother mouse looked down at the ground briefly in silence, before speaking with renewed resolve,

"Master Gauche, that's a lie. Master Gauche, haven't you been healing everyone's illnesses every day with such great skill?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Why, it was because of you the bunny rabbit's grannie got better, and it was you who healed the raccoon dog's pa; you even healed that mean-spirited horned owl, so it would be terribly unfair if you didn't help this poor little one."

"Hey, hey, this is some kind of mistake. I've never healed no horned owl. I must admit there was a little raccoon dog that was here last night practicing for his band...Hmm...," Gauche looked bemusedly down at the baby mouse and laughed.

The mother mouse burst into tears.

"Oh, if he had to be sick, why couldn't he have been sick earlier? Just before you were playing with such gusto, but you stopped just when he started to feel sick, and now you won't play no matter how much I beg you. Oh! What an unfortunate child!"

"What!?" exclaimed Gauche in shock. "Are you saying that the horned owl and the rabbit got better just because I was playing the cello? How does that work? Strange..."

The mother mouse wiped away its tears with a paw.

"Yes, all of the animals in this area, whenever they get sick, they climb under your floor so they can get better."

"And they get better?"

"Yes. Some feel better straight away, their circulation improves through their whole body and they feel terrific afterwards; but some have to wait until they get home before they feel better."

"Ah, so that's it. What you are saying is that the sound of my cello makes all of these vibrations, and that works like a massage, and makes you better? Right. I get it. Let's give it a try," said Gauche, his cello giving out a ♬-gyuu gyuu-♬ sound as he gave it a quick tune, before plucking up the baby field mouse and squeezing it through a hole near the bottom of the cello.

"I'm going too. They'd let me in any other hospital," cried the mother mouse, jumping up on the cello like a lunatic.

"I'm not sure you'll fit," said Gauche, and tried pushing her through the hole as well, but she could only get her head half-way through.

Flapping and flailing, she cried out to her little one,

"Are you alright? Did you land with your feet together like I taught you?"

"Yup. I landed good," said the baby mouse in a tiny voice like a mosquito from the bottom of the cello.

"He'll be right. Really, you can stop crying," said Gauche as he placed the mother down, picked up his bow and launched into a rhapsody with great gusto. The mother stood anxiously listening to the sound of the cello, but then, as if she couldn't take it one second longer, cried out,

"That's enough! Please, let him out."

"Huh, is that all you want?" asked Gauche, and he leaned the cello on its side with his palm over the hole and waited for the baby mouse which eventually popped out.

Gauche quietly placed it back on the floor. The baby mouse stood with its eyes closed tightly, shaking and trembling all over.

"How was it? Are you Ok? How do you feel?"

The baby mouse made no reply but continued shaking and trembling with its eyes closed until all of a sudden it got up and started running.

"Oh, he's better! Thank you so much. Thank you so much," said the mother mouse running around with her son, before stopping in front of Gauche and bowing deeply,

"Thank you so much. Thank you so much," she said at least ten times.

Gauche felt a little sorry for them,

"Hey, do you guys eat bread?" he asked.

As if taken by complete surprise, the mother mouse cast her gaze nervously around for several moments, before replying,

"I may be mistaken, but I have heard that bread is a very delicious food made by kneading and baking flour which rises all soft and fluffy, but no Master Gauche, we have never been inside your pantry and, certainly you have been so good to us, we would never steal from you."

"No, that's not what I mean. I was just asking if you eat it. So you do right? Wait a second. I'll give you some for the little one's sore tummy."

Gauche lay the cello on the floor, grabbed a chunk of bread from the pantry and placed it in front of the mother mouse.

The mother mouse was beside herself, laughing and then crying and then bowing, before placing the bread delicately in her mouth, and with the little one in front of her, headed out the front door and off home.

"Ahhh. Talking to mice can wear you out too," said Gauche, collapsing into bed and falling fast asleep.

Chapter Six

It was evening, six nights later. The members of the Venus Orchestra filed neatly off stage and into the dressing room at the back of the town auditorium, their instruments in hand, their cheeks glowing red. They'd just carried off a successful performance of Symphony No. 6. Inside the auditorium the sound of applause was reverberating like thunder. The conductor wandered slowly between the musicians with his hands thrust in his pockets, looking as if he didn't care at all about the applause, but the truth was he couldn't have been happier. The musicians were lighting their cigarettes and packing away their instruments.

The sound of applause continued unabated. In fact the noise was reaching fever pitch, threatening to spiral out of control. In came the master of ceremonies wearing a large white ribbon draped across his chest.

"They are calling for an encore. Can you do a short piece for them or something?"

"No, we couldn't do that," replied the conductor with a stern look. "What could we possibly follow up with after playing such a brilliant piece like that?"

"Well then, please come out and say a few words to the audience."

"That wouldn't do. Hey, Gauche, go out and play something for them."

"You want me?" replied Gauche dumbstruck.

"Gauche! Yes, Gauche!" shouted the first violinist suddenly looking up.

"Go on, get out there," cried the conductor. The other musicians shoved the cello into Gauche's hands, opened the door and thrust him out onto the stage. As Gauche stumbled bewildered through the door holding his battered cello, the audience caught sight of him and burst into wild applause. Some were even screaming.

"So they want to make a fool of me? Well I'll show `em. See how they like Tiger Hunting in India," muttered Gauche as he walked with complete calm out onto the middle of the stage.

He launched into Tiger Hunting with the ferocity of a raging elephant, just like he'd done that night with the cat. The audience became silent, completely captivated by the music. Gauche played on and on. He passed the bit where the cat could take no more and sparks started to fly from its head. He passed the bit where it threw itself against the door, over and over again.

After finishing the piece, Gauche picked up his cello and ran off as fast as that cat had, leaving the stage without so much as a glance at the audience. Backstage the conductor and the other musicians all sat silently staring into space as if they'd just watched a house burn down. Now at the point of desperation, Gauche walked hurriedly passed the others and sat, half-collapsing onto a wooden bench at the far side of the room, and crossed his legs.

Everyone turned as one to look at Gauche, but their expressions were quite sincere and no one was laughing.

What a weird night, thought Gauche.

The conductor got to his feet.

"Fantastic Gauche! Even with that piece, you still had everyone here on the edge of their seat. You've improved a lot in what, a week, ten days? If I compare you now to what you were like ten days ago, you've gone from a baby, to a warrior. You see Gauche, you can do it if you just try!"

All the other musicians started walking up to congratulate him.

"It's only because he's so strong that he can play like that," said the conductor from the other side of the room, "That'd kill an ordinary person."

That night Gauche returned home late.

He then gulped down a glass of water as usual. Afterwards he opened the window and staring out at the distant sky in the direction the cuckoo had flown off so many days before, he sighed,

"Ah cuckoo, sorry about that night. You know, I wasn't really angry."

THE END
The Nighthawk Star

by Kenji Miyazawa

Nighthawk really was an ugly bird.

He had a patchy face as if bits of mud were stuck to it, and a flat beak that opened right up to his ears.

He was terribly shaky on his legs; he couldn't even walk two meters.

The other birds would only have to look at Nighthawk's face, and they would be horrified.

Take Skylark for example, not one of the prettiest birds itself, but it thought itself way above Nighthawk, so if of an evening it should run into Nighthawk, it would close its eyes tight and turn its head away as if it were truly disgusted. And the little talkative birds were always saying awful things about Nighthawk, right in front of his face;

"Hmph. There he goes again. Just look at that, would you. It makes me ashamed to be a bird."

"Yeah, look at that gaping mouth. I bet he's related to some kind of frog."

That sort of thing. But if it were Hawk instead of Nighthawk, just the mention of his name would be enough to make those superficial little birds shake with fright, and the color to drain from their faces, and they would have curled up in a ball and hidden away in the foliage of a tree somewhere. But Nighthawk was no brother to Hawk; he wasn't even a close relative. Nighthawk was actually a brother to the beautiful Kingfisher, and that jewel of all birds, Hummingbird. Hummingbird fed on pollen from the flowers, Kingfisher on fish, and Nighthawk caught and fed on winged insects. And because Nighthawk lacked sharp claws or a sharp beak, not even the weakest of birds were afraid of Nighthawk.

So it's quite strange that he carried the name hawk at all, but one reason was his powerful wings which cut through the wind, and made him look just like a hawk. The other reason was his high pitched cry that sounded very similar to that of a hawk. Of course this used to trouble Hawk terribly, and he was very much against Nighthawk using his name. And that's why every time he saw Nighthawk's face, he would square his shoulders at him, and say, "Hurry up and change your name! Change your name!"

One evening, Hawk came at last to Nighthawk's house.

"Oi! Are you there? Are you going to change your name or not? You really are a shameless bird, aren't you? You know you're nothing like me. For starters, on a clear day, I can fly as far as I want. But you? Unless it's a cloudy day with barely any sun, you don't even come out until it's dark. Now take a good look at my beak and my talons. Right, now compare them to yours."

"Hawk. I can't do it. I didn't give myself my own name. God gave it to me."

"No, that's not right. You might say God gave me my name, but you? Well, you've just borrowed one from me and one from the night. Now give it back."

"Hawk. I can't."

"Yes, you can. I'll tell you a good name. Call yourself Ichizo. Yeah, Ichizo. It's a good name. Now, to change your name, you have to make an announcement. You got me? What that means is, you hang a name plate around your neck that says Ichizo, and then you go 'round to everyone and say, 'From this day forth my name is Ichizo,' and then bow."

"There's no way I can do that."

"Yes, you can. So do it. I'll give you until the morning after next, and if you haven't done it, I'll go straight for you and finish you myself. Remember it, I'll come and get you if you don't. Early in the morning, the day after next, I'm going to call in and see every single bird, and I'll ask 'em whether you came or not. If there's just one bird you didn't visit, that's the end for you."

"But that's just impossible. I'd rather die than have to do that. Just kill me now."

"Well, you have a good think about it after I'm gone. Ichizo is not such a bad name." Hawk spread his wings right out and flew off in the direction of his own nest.

Nighthawk sat still, his eyes closed, thinking.

Why does everyone hate me so? Is it because I look like I have mud on my face, and I've got such a big mouth? But I've never done anything bad my whole life. Didn't I pick up that baby white-eye after it fell out of its nest, and take it back to its parents? And then they grabbed it off me like they were getting it back from a thief. Afterwards they made terrible fun of me. And now,...now this talk of changing my name to Ichizo, and making me wear a name plate around my neck. Why, it's just so painful.

All around it was starting to become dark. Nighthawk flew out from his nest. The clouds shone meanly in the sky, hanging down low. Nighthawk flew around in silence, almost brushing up against the cloud.

He then opened his mouth, straightened his wings, and cut across the sky like an arrow. Dozens of small winged insects, one after the other, flew straight down his throat.

Just when he looked as if he would hit the ground, he quickly rose back up into the air with great agility. The clouds were now gray, and the fire burning on the distant mountain was a vivid red.

When Nighthawk flies at full speed, the sky is split in two. A rhinoceros beetle went down Nighthawk's throat and put up a terrific struggle. Nighthawk quickly swallowed it down, but as he did so, he felt a shudder go down his spine.

The pitch black clouds made for a frightening scene, the only light coming from the red glow of the fire in the east. With a heavy heart, Nighthawk flew once more up into the sky.

Nighthawk swallowed another rhinoceros beetle. This one felt as if it were clawing at the inside of his throat. He forced it down, but suddenly he was overcome by a dreadful feeling inside, and he let out a scream and began to cry. He continued crying as he circled the sky, around and around and around.

Ahhh...every night, all those rhinoceros beetles and insects are killed by me. And now the only one of me, is going to be killed by Hawk. It's so painful. It hurts, it really hurts. I won't eat any more insects and I'll starve myself to death. No, I'll be killed by Hawk before I starve. No, before that happens, I'm going to fly far, far away to a different sky.

The fire was slowly flowing down the mountain side like water, and even the clouds looked as if they were on fire.

Nighthawk flew straight to his younger brother Kingfisher. Beautiful Kingfisher had just woken and had come out to look at the fire far off on the mountain. As he saw Nighthawk come in to land, he said,

"Good evening, brother. Is something wrong?

"No, but I'm about to fly off somewhere far away, so I wanted to visit you before I leave."

"Brother. You can't go. Hummingbird is already living so far away, and I'll be left here all on my own."

"I know, but there's nothing I can do. Please don't say anything more. And one more thing, apart from when you really have to, please don't catch fish just for fun. Alright, good bye."

"Brother. What's wrong? Please, wait just a little longer."

"No, it doesn't matter how long I wait, it won't change anything. Please give my regards to Hummingbird when you see him. Good bye. I won't see you again. Good bye."

Nighthawk cried as he flew back to his home. The short summer night was already drawing to a close.

The green fern leaves swayed gently in the cool air, breathing in the early morning mist. Nighthawk shrieked, keeshi - keeshi - keeshi! After neatly tidying up his nest and carefully combing all of his hair and feathers, he flew out from his home once more.

The fog had lifted and the sun was just starting to rise from the east. Fighting to withstand the blinding light that was enough to make him reel backwards, Nighthawk flew like an arrow, straight towards the sun.

"Oh Great Sun. Oh Great Sun. Please take me to where you are. I don't care if I'm burnt to a cinder. Surely even a bird with an ugly body like mine can give out a little light when it burns. Please take me."

Nighthawk flew on and on, but the sun never got any closer. Rather, it became smaller and distant, finally replying,

"So you are Nighthawk, are you? I see. It must be terribly hard for you. Next time, fly up and ask the stars to help you. You're not a bird of the daytime."

Nighthawk went to bow, but spun out of control, and ended up falling down into a grassy field. Everything became like a dream. His body seemed to be moving way, way up between stars of red and yellow, and then he was being blown for ever and ever by the wind, and then Hawk came, and he was caught in his clutches.

Something cold landed on his face. Nighthawk opened his eyes. A dewdrop had fallen from the tip of a young pampas plant. It was now well into the night, the stars sparkling across the great expanse of dark-blue sky. Nighthawk flew up into the sky. Tonight the fire on the mountain was crimson red. Nighthawk flew in circles amidst a faint glow from that fire, and the cold starlight. He flew around one more time. Then he flew at top speed, straight toward the beautiful Orion in the western sky, all the while crying out,

"Oh Great star. Oh Great blue and white star of the west. Please take me to where you are. I don't care if I'm burnt to a cinder."

Orion paid no attention to Nighthawk whatsoever, but continued singing its song of bravery. Nighthawk almost broke into tears, and tumbled back down, but finally steadied himself, flying in a circle once more. He then flew straight towards Canis Major in the south, crying out,

"Oh Great star. Oh Great blue star of the south. Please take me to where you are. I don't care if I'm burnt to a cinder."

Canis Major, busily sparkling in the most beautiful blues, purples and yellows, answered,

"Don't be so silly. What in heaven's name are you? A hawk's just a bird, isn't it? It would take you a million, billion, trillion years to fly here with those wings," and turned to face another direction.

Nighthawk lost heart and tumbled back down, but steadied and flew in a circle two more times. He then flew straight towards Great Bear in the north, crying out,

"Oh Great blue star of the north, please take me to where you are."

Great Bear calmly replied,

"Where'd you get such a crazy idea? You need to cool your head down. The best thing for that is to dive into the ocean near an iceberg, but if there's no ocean nearby, diving into a glass of water with some ice in it should do the trick."

Nighthawk lost heart and tumbled back down, but steadied and flew in a circle four more times. Then he tried once more, crying out to Aquila on the far side of the Milky Way that had just risen from the east.

"Oh Great white star of the east, please take me to where you are. I don't care if I'm burnt to a cinder."

"Certainly not! What complete and utter nonsense," replied Aquila, quite haughtily. "To become a star, one needs to have a social status befitting of such an honor. It also takes quite a lot of money."

All the energy drained from Nighthawk and he closed his wings and fell toward earth. But when those feeble legs were mere inches from hitting the ground, Nighthawk re-launched himself into the sky like a firework. He flew to the middle range of the sky and, just like an eagle that is about to attack a bear, his entire body shook and his feathers stood on end.

He then gave an almighty high-pitched shriek, keeshi- keeshi - keeshi - keeshi - keeshi! It sounded exactly like the cry of a hawk. All the birds that were asleep in the fields and the forest, opened their eyes, and shivering all over, looked frightfully up at the star filled sky.

Nighthawk flew straight up into the sky, flying higher and higher and higher. The fire on the mountain was now no bigger than the end of a cigarette. Nighthawk flew higher and higher.

The cold air froze his breath white against his breast. Because of the thin air he had to flap his wings like crazy.

But even so, the size of the stars hadn't changed one little bit. His breathing was like a pair of bellows. The cold and wind-frost cut him like a sword. His wings were completely numb. With tears in his eyes, Nighthawk looked up at the sky one more time. This was it. This was Nighthawk's last. He could no longer tell if he was climbing or falling, whether he was upright, or upside down. But what he felt was an inner peace, and there was no doubt that that large blood-stained beak of his, even though it was bent sideways, had a faint smile on it.

After a short while Nighthawk opened his eyes wide. And he saw that his body was now quietly burning, emitting a beautiful blue light, like a flame of phosphorous. Beside him was Cassiopeia. The pale-blue light of the Milky Way was right behind. And the Nighthawk's star went on burning. It burnt on and on, forever and ever. Even now, it continues to burn.

THE END
Wild Pear – Yamanashi

by Kenji Miyazawa

Two blue slides from a magic lantern depicting the bottom of a small mountain stream.

Slide One - May

Two young crabs were talking at the bottom of the pale-blue water.

"Clambon laughed."

"Clambon bubbled with laughter."

"Clambon bounced up and down with laughter."

"Clambon bubbled with laughter."

Above their heads and to the side it was blue and dark, like steel. Dark bubbles were floating by, one at a time, along the smooth ceiling.

"Clambon was laughing."

"Clambon bubbled with laughter."

"So why did Clambon laugh?"

"I don't know."

Bubbles were floating by, one at a time. The young crabs blew five or six bubbles, plop, plop, plop, one after another. The bubbles shone like mercury, rocking from side to side, as they rose diagonally up.

Turning its stomach with a jerk, a fish passed by over their heads.

"Clambon died."

"Clambon was killed."

"Clambon is dead...."

"It was killed."

"So why was it killed?" Placing two of his four right legs onto the flat part of his younger brother's head, the elder brother said,

"I don't know."

The fish turned back with a jerk, and headed downstream.

"Clambon laughed."

"It laughed."

Suddenly it became bright, golden rays of sunshine falling into the water like a dream.

The net of light from the waves danced majestically, stretching and shrinking on the white rocks at the bottom. Long spherical shadows stretched directly down from the bubbles and litter, standing diagonally together in the water.

The fish returned, sending all of the golden rays scattering, its own body taking on a strange steelish glow, before it swam once more upstream.

"Why does the fish come and go like that?" asked the younger crab, moving his eyes as if dazzled by the light.

"It's doing something bad. It's catching something."

"Catching something?"

"Yeah."

The fish returned from upstream. This time it was swimming slow and calmly, without moving its fins or tail, just floating with the current, its mouth opened in the shape of a circle as it approached. Its black shadow slid silently over the net of light at the bottom.

"That fish......."

And then it happened. Suddenly white bubbles formed in the ceiling, and something flew inside like a blue shiny bullet.

The elder brother clearly saw that the blue thing had a black sharp point like the tip of a compass. And then with a flash, the white stomach of the fish flipped over and seemed to rise up, and then there was no more sign of the blue thing or the fish. The net of golden sunshine rocked back and forward, while the bubbles floated by one at a time.

The two crabs cowered in silence.

Out came the father crab.

"What happened? You are shivering all over."

"Pa, something strange was here."

"What was it?"

"It was blue and shiny. The end was really black and pointy. And after it came, the fish went up and disappeared.

"Were its eyes red?"

"I don't know."

"Hmm. Anyway, it was a bird. It's a kingfisher. Everything's all right, you don't need to worry. It's not interested in us."

"Pa, where did the fish go?"

"The fish? It's gone to a scary place."

"Pa, I'm scared."

"No, no, it's alright. Don't be frightened. Look, here comes a birch flower. Look at that, isn't it beautiful?"

A large number of petals from a white birch flower were sliding across the ceiling alongside some bubbles.

"Pa, I'm scared," said the younger crab, echoing his brother.

The net of light danced, stretching and shrinking, the shadows from the petals sliding over the sand.

Slide Two - November

The young crabs had grown quite big, and the scenery at the bottom had completely changed from summer to autumn.

Soft white round stones had tumbled in, while cone-shaped grains of crystal and shards of phlogopite had floated in from upstream.

Moonlight as if from a soda bottle, penetrated all the way to the bottom of the cold water, the waves on the ceiling like a pale-blue fire, burning and dying, over and over, while all around was silent, the sound of the waves echoing as if far off in the distance.

With the moon so bright and the water crystal clear, rather than sleep, the young crabs went outside their hole, quietly blowing bubbles and looking to the heavens.

"Yep, my bubbles are bigger."

"You are blowing them bigger on purpose. I can blow mine bigger if I want to."

"Go on then, try it. You see, that's as big as you can do. Now I'll blow mine, watch this. See, mine's bigger."

"It's not bigger, it's the same."

"Yours only looks big because you're so close. Right, let's blow out at the same time. Ready, go."

"See, mine's bigger."

"You think so? Right, one more time then."

"Hey, you're not allowed to stretch out like that!"

Out came the father crab once more.

"Right, it's time to go to bed. It's already late. Tomorrow I'm taking you to Essad."

"Pa, whose bubbles are bigger?"

"Well, that would most likely be your big brother."

"No they aren't, mine are bigger," said the younger crab almost in tears.

And then,

PLONK!

Something big, black and round fell from the ceiling, sinking all the way down, and then rising back up again. Patches of gold sparkled on its surface.

"Kingfisher!" cried the young crabs, pulling their heads back in.

Father crab strained to see, stretching his eyes like a pair of telescopes, before saying,

"No it's not, it's a wild pear. It's coming this way, let's follow it. Oh, it smells good."

And that explained why the moon-lit water was suddenly filled with a wonderful pear aroma.

The three crabs chased after the pear as it bobbed along.

With their three black shadows on the bottom, six crabs looked to be dancing, walking sideways as they chased after the round shadow of the pear.

Not long after, the water began to murmur, waves on the ceiling sending up flames of blue, the pear having caught on a tree branch lying on its side, a flurry of moonlight-rainbows floating above it.

"How about that, it's a wild pear, and it's nice and ripe. Doesn't it smell good?"

"It looks delicious, pa."

"Hang on! If we wait two more days it will sink down here and make delicious wine all by itself. Alright then, let's go home and sleep, come on."

The father and his two boys went back to their holes.

The waves now began dancing with pale-blue flames, sparkling as if scattered with specks of diamonds.

*

That's the end of my slides.
The Restaurant of Many Orders

by Kenji Miyazawa

Two young gentlemen, carrying beautifully polished rifles and dressed just as if they were English soldiers, and accompanied by two massive dogs that looked more like polar bears, were deep, deep into the woods having the following conversation, as the leaves on the forest floor rustled beneath their feet,

"There is something fishy about these woods, don't you think? Not a single bird or animal to be seen. I don't care what, I just wanna whack something soon, you know, Bam! Bam!"

"Two or three shots in the yellow belly of a deer would be quite delightful, don't you think? Around and around it would go, and then just collapse in a heap."

They were deep, deep into the woods. They were so far into the woods that even the professional shooter they'd hired to guide them had gotten all confused and wandered off somewhere.

Then, because of the sheer ghastliness of the place, those two dogs that were like polar bears, both suddenly became dizzy, started howling, and then frothed up at the mouth and died.

"That's just cost me 2,400 yen," said the first gentleman briefly peeling back the dog's eyelids.

"It cost me 2,800 yen," grimaced the second gentleman cocking his head to one side.

The first gentleman, his face having turned quite pale, looked carefully at the other gentleman as he spoke,

"I think I'll head back."

"Well, it has gotten cold and I am hungry so I think I'll head back too."

"Right, let's call it a day. Besides, we can buy a pheasant from the inn where we stayed last night for 10 yen on our way home."

"Yes, and they sold rabbits there too. Why, it's all the same in the end. Right, let's head back then shall we?"

But the terrible problem they had now was they hadn't the faintest idea which way home was.

All around them, the wind howled, the grass swooshed, the leaves rustled, the trees groaned.

"Boy am I hungry! I've got a pain in the side that is just killing me."

"I'm the same. I don't want to walk much further."

"No, me neither. Ah, we're in a bit of a fix now. I need something to eat."

"Yes, me too."

This is what the two gentlemen were saying as the pampas grass swooshed and swayed all around them.

Just then, they happened to look behind, and right there was a magnificent European style building.

A sign placed at the entrance, said,

*******************

RESTAURANT

WILDCAT HOUSE

*******************

"Hey, this is perfect. We weren't as far away from it all as we thought. Shall we go in?"

"Whoa, this is pretty strange here. I guess we can get something to eat though, right?"

"Of course we can. It says so on the sign doesn't it?"

"Then let's go in. I'm so hungry I'm about to fall over."

The two men stood at the entrance. The entrance, of solid white brick, looked quite magnificent.

In front of them stood a glass door with the following written in gold:

ALL WELCOME, PLEASE COME INSIDE AND MAKE YOURSELF AT HOME

The two men were beside themselves.

"What do you think about that, eh? Everything works out after all. Here we've had such a rotten day, but look how our luck has changed. It's a restaurant, but we get to eat for free!"

"Sure seems that way. That's what 'make yourself at home' means."

They pushed open the door and walked inside. On the other side was a corridor. On the reverse side of the glass door, in gold lettering it said,

OVERWEIGHT AND YOUNG PEOPLE ARE ESPECIALLY WELCOME

The two men were thrilled.

"Hey, we are especially welcome."

"Yeah, we're both!"

They walked briskly down the corridor, where this time they came to a light blue painted door.

"This is a very strange house. Why do you think it has so many doors?"

"This is Russian style. Houses in cold climates and in the mountains are all like this."

As they went to open the door, they noticed at the top, in yellow lettering, it said,

THIS IS A RESTAURANT OF MANY ORDERS. WE APOLOGIZE FOR ANY INCONVENIENCE

"Gee, they're pretty popular. This far into the woods!?"

"Sure. Think about it. Not many of the big restaurants in Tokyo are on the main roads."

They opened the door as they were speaking. On the reverse side of the door, it said

WE DO HAVE MANY MANY ORDERS SO PLEASE BEAR WITH US FOR EACH ONE

"What are they saying here exactly?" asked one of the gentleman, frowning.

"Well, what they mean by this is, they have so many orders, it's going to take them a while to get our food ready, so they are sorry about that."

"Yes, that'd be it. I really want to get inside some kind of room quickly."

"Yes, and get seated at a table."

But to their annoyance there was yet another door. Beside it, a mirror was hanging on the wall, under which was placed a long-handled brush.

On the door in red lettering, it said:

DEAR CUSTOMERS, PLEASE NEATLY BRUSH YOUR HAIR AND CLEAN THE MUD FROM YOUR SHOES.

"I guess that's only reasonable. To be honest, back at the entrance, I didn't think it could be much of a restaurant, seeing as it's in the middle of the woods."

"They're pretty strict on etiquette here. I'm sure they must get a lot of very important people."

They neatly brushed their hair and cleaned the mud from their boots.

Then what do you think happened? Just as they were placing the brush back on the shelf, it suddenly vanished in a puff of smoke, and a large gust of wind blew into the room.

Startled, the two men huddled together, shoving open the door and rushing into the next room. Both men were thinking that if they didn't get something warm to eat soon, and get their strength back, this could end up becoming a disaster.

Something strange was written on the other side of this door as well.

PLEASE LEAVE YOUR RIFLES AND BULLETS HERE.

There was a black stand beside the door.

"I suppose that's reasonable, you can't hold your rifle while you are eating."

"Yeah, they must get really important people coming here all the time."

The two men took off their rifles, removed their leather belts and placed them together on the table.

After passing through that door, there was another black door.

PLEASE REMOVE YOUR HATS, COATS AND SHOES.

"What do you think? Take 'em off?"

"Yes, no choice really. There's very important people here, do doubt about it. They must be inside already."

The two men placed their hats and overcoats on the pegs, took off their shoes and walked pitter-patter through the door.

On the other side of the door, it said:

PLEASE REMOVE YOUR TIE PINS, CUFF LINKS, GLASSES, WALLETS, AND ANY OTHER METAL, ESPECIALLY SHARP OBJECTS

Right next to the door was a shiny black safe with the door open. There was even a key.

"Oh I see, they must apply some kind of electric charge to the food. That's why metallic objects would be dangerous. Especially sharp objects."

"Yes, that'd be it. I guess that means we pay here on our way out?"

"It would seem that way."

"Yes. That's surely it."

The two of them removed their glasses and cuff links and put everything into the safe, and then locked it with the key.

A little further ahead was another door, and in front of it was a glass jar. On the door it said:

PLEASE TAKE SOME CREAM FROM THE JAR AND APPLY IT GENEROUSLY TO YOUR FACE, HANDS AND FEET

The substance in the jar looked like dairy cream.

"Why would they ask us to put on cream?"

"Well, it's probably because it's so cold outside. If it is really warm in the dining room, we'd get cracks in our skin, so this cream will prevent that. There must be some very, very important people inside. This might be our big change to get close to the aristocracy."

The two men spread the cream on their face, all over their hands and then took off their socks and smeared it over their feet. But there was still some left over, so both men, while pretending to spread more over their face, secretly ate it.

After they rushed through that door, there was another message on the reverse side,

DID YOU APPLY LOTS OF CREAM? HOW ABOUT YOUR EARS?"

There was a small jar of cream next to the door.

"Oh yeah, I missed the ears. That was lucky, I would have got cracks in my ears. The owner of this restaurant has really done their preparation."

"Yes, they really pay attention to the smallest details. But I have to say, I'm really keen to get something to eat soon; this corridor seems to go on forever."

Right in front of them was yet another door.

DINNER IS ALMOST DONE.

WE WON'T KEEP YOU WAITING MORE THAN FIFTEEN MINUTES.

YOU WILL BE SERVED SHORTLY.

PLEASE QUICKLY SPLASH SOME PERFUME OVER YOUR HEAD

In front of the door was a gilded perfume bottle.

The two men splashed some perfume over their head.

But for some strange reason, the perfume had a strong vinegary odor.

"This perfume smells like vinegar. What's going on here then?"

"They've made a mistake. The waitress must have a cold or something and she's mixed them up."

The two men opened the door and walked through.

In large letters on the other side of the door, it said:

THERE CERTAINLY WERE A LOT OF ORDERS, WEREN'T THERE? WE APOLOGIZE FOR ALL THE TROUBLE.

BUT THIS IS THE LAST ONE. PLEASE TAKE A LARGE HANDFUL OF SALT FROM THE JAR AND MASSAGE IT IN WELL, ALL OVER YOUR BODY

Beside the door was a beautiful ceramic bowl filled with salt, but this time they stared wide-eyed into each other's cream soaked faces, as if this was finally too much.

"This isn't right."

"No, there's something wrong here."

"That's saying that the many orders, are from them, to us!"

"That's why, this European restaurant, the way I see it, doesn't serve European cuisine to people who come here; it's a restaurant that serves up people who come here as European cuisine and then eats them. Which... which m...m...m...means, w...w...w...we...we...we are...," chatter, chatter, chatter... the first gentleman was shaking so badly he couldn't finish the sentence.

"It's us th... th... that's going to g.. g... get.... aahh!" chatter, chatter, chatter... the second gentleman was shaking so badly he couldn't finish his sentence either.

"Ru.. ru... ru...n" As they stood shaking, one of the gentlemen pushed against the door behind them, but would you believe it, now it wouldn't move an inch.

Further down the corridor was another door with two large key holes in the shape of a silver knife and fork.

On the door was written:

THANK YOU INDEED FOR GOING TO SO MUCH TROUBLE. YOU HAVE PREPARED YOURSELVES EXCELLENTLY. PLEASE COME INSIDE TO EAT.

To top it off there were two blue eyes staring at them through the keyhole.

"Hyaa!!" chatter, chatter, chatter.

"Hyaa!!" chatter, chatter, chatter.

The two began blubbering out loud.

On the other side of the door, two voices began to speak in hushed voices.

"It's no good. They've worked it out. I don't think they are going to rub in the salt."

"Of course they aren't. It's the way the boss wrote it. Why did he have to write There certainly were a lot of orders, weren't there, and We apologize for all the trouble; that was just silly.

"It doesn't make any difference. He doesn't give us any bones anyway."

"That may be so, but if they don't come in then we'll be the ones that get in trouble."

"Shall we call out to them? Let's call out to them. Gentlemen, gentlemen, quickly, quickly, Come on in. Come on in. The plates are washed and we've rubbed the vegetables with salt. All that's left is to mix you both with some greens and put you on a sparkling white plate. Quickly, quickly, come on in!"

"Yes, quickly, quickly, come on in! Maybe you don't like salad? Shall we light the stove, and fry you up instead? In any case, quickly, quickly, come on in!"

The two men were in such terrible distress their faces crumpled up like paper, and they stood staring at each other, trembling all over and crying in silence.

Hew, hew, came the laughter from the other side of the door, followed by more cries of,

"Come on in, come on in. Why, if you keep crying you'll waste all that nice cream. Yes boss, will be right there. The food is on the way! Quickly, quickly, come on in."

"Quickly, quickly, come on in. The boss already has on his napkin, his knife is at the ready and he's licking his lips while he waits for you."

The two men balled and balled and balled their eyes out.

Suddenly from behind came a great noise,

"Woof, woof, Grrrr!" and then those two great dogs that were like polar bears, burst through the door and into the room. The pair of eyes in the keyhole quickly disappeared. The two dogs growled as they ran round and around the room. They then barked,

"Ruff!" at the top of their voice, and jumped with full force into the next door. The door opened with a bang and the dogs flew into the room as if they'd been sucked inside.

Out of the pitch blackness on the other side of the door, came cries of

"Meo-o-w...kyee-ya-h...hiss," followed by a loud crash.

The entire room vanished like smoke, and the two men found themselves standing in the middle of the wild grass shivering from the cold.

Their coats, shoes, wallets, tie pins and other items were strewn all about the woods, some hanging from the trees, some lying amongst tree roots. The wind howled, the grass swooshed, the leaves rustled, the trees groaned.

The dogs came back panting heavily.

From behind, someone called,

"Gentlemen, Gentle-m-e-n!"

They quickly came to their senses, shouting out,

"We're here, we're here, come quick."

Their guide came wading slowly through the long grass wearing a straw hat.

Only then did their panic finally subside.

They ate some dumplings that the hunter brought with him, and then bought a pheasant for only 10 yen before heading home to Tokyo.

But unfortunately, even after they returned to Tokyo, even after they took a hot bath, their faces, having once crumpled up like paper, never did return to normal.

THE END
Kenju's Forest Playground

by Kenji Miyazawa

Kenju wore a rope tied around his waist, laughing as he walked slowly through the forest or between the farmers' fields. He got great pleasure from looking at the green thicket in the rain, and if he was staring wide-eyed above his head and found a hawk soaring endlessly across the clear blue sky, he'd leap into the air and clap his hands to let everyone know.

But all the other kids used to make terrible fun of Kenju, so he started pretending that he wasn't laughing at all. When a gust of wind would blow the leaves of the beech tree and make them flicker in the sun, Kenju would be so happy that he couldn't stop laughing to himself, so he'd open his mouth as wide as it would go, and laugh only while he was blowing outwards so no-one would notice, as he stood looking up at that beech tree forever and ever. And sometimes, he'd rub the corner of his wide-open mouth with his finger, as if it was really itchy, laughing only when he breathed out.

From a distance someone might think Kenju was scratching the side of his mouth or maybe yawning, but of course up close they could hear him laughing while he was breathing, and they could see his mouth twitching, so the children made fun and laughed at him for that too.

If his mum asked him to, he'd fetch five hundred buckets of water. And he'd spend all day picking a bucket full of weeds from the field. But neither his mum nor his dad ever really thought about asking him to do those kinds of things.

Well, right behind Kenju's house there was an open field about the size of a large playground that had yet to be cultivated. One year, when the mountains were still covered in snow and the grass in the fields had yet to send up any new shoots, Kenju raced up to where the rest of his family were plowing the rice field, and said,

"Ma, can you buy me seven hundred cedar seedlings?"

Kenju's mum stopped swinging her forked hoe that was glittering in the sun, and looked directly at Kenju,

"Seven hundred cedar seedlings! Where are you going to plant them?"

"In the field behind the house."

Then Kenju's older brother said to him,

"Kenju, if you plant cedar seedlings there they won't grow. Why don't you give us a hand plowing the field instead?"

Kenju fidgeted restlessly, looking down at his feet.

Just then, Kenju's dad, working a little further away, stood up straight, wiping sweat from his face as he did so,

"Go buy 'em. Go buy 'em. Kenju, you've never asked for anything in your life. Go buy 'em," and Kenju's mother laughed as if reassured.

Kenju was overjoyed and ran straight toward the house. He then grabbed a hoe from the shed, and chipping away at the grass, he began to dig the holes for the cedar seedlings.

Kenju's older brother followed him over to the field, and when he saw what he was doing, said,

"Kenju, for cedars you don't dig the holes until you plant 'em. Wait 'til tomorrow. I'll go buy 'em for you."

Kenju reluctantly put down his hoe.

The next day there was a beautiful clear sky, the snow on the mountains shone a brilliant white, and the skylarks flew high, high in the sky, singing chee-chiku chee-chiku. Grinning as if he were about to burst, Kenju started digging holes for the cedar seedlings just as his brother taught him, this time from the northern boundary. He dug them in a perfectly straight line at very precise intervals. Kenju's brother planted a seedling in each of the holes.

Just then, Heiji, who owned the farm land to the north of that field, walked up with a pipe in his mouth, his hands in his pockets and hunched over, as if cold. Heiji did a little farming, but he also worked doing something else - something people hated. Heiji called out to Kenju,

"Oi! Kenju, you'd have to be stupid to plant cedar trees here. For starters, it's gonna block the sun from my field."

Kenju's face turned red and he was about to say something but no words came out, and he stood there fidgeting.

Just then Kenju's brother called out,

"Mornin' Heiji." and stood up from where he was working, so Heiji trudged off, still sulking.

It certainly wasn't just Heiji who ridiculed the idea of planting cedars in that field. Everyone said that you couldn't grow cedars there, that the soil was hard clay, and that fools would be fools. And that was exactly how it turned out. The green heart of the cedars shot straight up towards the sky for the first five years, but afterwards the tops of the trees became more and more rounded, and by the seventh and the eighth year, the cedars were only around nine feet tall.

One day as Kenju was standing in front of his forest, a farmer said to him as a joke,

"Hey, Kenju. Aren't you going to raise-prune those cedars?"

"What's raise-pruning?"

"Raise-pruning is when you take a hatchet and knock off all the bottom branches."

"Maybe I should raise-prune them."

Kenju ran off and grabbed a hatchet.

Starting from the edge of the forest, he began chopping off the bottom branches one at a time. Because the trees were only around nine feet high, Kenju had to crouch down to get beneath the branches.

By evening every one of the trees had been stripped of all but the top three or four branches. The grass below was completely covered by the dark green branches and the small forest had become light-filled and bare. Seeing it suddenly so bare gave Kenju an awful feeling and a sad look came over his face.

Just then, Kenju's brother returned from the field and came up to where Kenju was standing, but burst out laughing when he looked at the trees. Then he remarked encouragingly to Kenju who was standing there looking miserable,

"You've made some good firewood. Let's pile up the branches. The forest looks great."

This finally put Kenju at ease and together they ducked beneath the trees and gathered up all the cut branches. The grass below was short and neat; the kind of place some old wise men might play at chess.

However, the next day, while picking out rotten beans in the shed, Kenju heard a great ruckus coming from the direction of the forest. Kenju was startled by the sound of orders being given this way and that... an imitation of a trumpet... feet stepping in time... and shrieks of laughter that were enough to send all the birds scattering from the trees..., and he went over to take a look.

To his amazement, at least fifty children had gathered on their way home from school and were marching in step between the cedar trees, all in a single line. No matter which way they walked, every row looked just like a boulevard. The cedar trees appeared as if they were dressed in green and walking together in a line, which had the children beside themselves with laughter, and they screamed like Bull-headed Shrikes and their faces turned bright red, as they marched down the rows of cedars. Each of the rows were quickly given names such as Tokyo Boulevard, Russia Boulevard and Western Boulevard.

Kenju was ecstatic and, hiding behind a nearby cedar tree, he opened his mouth wide and laughed and laughed. From then on the children came to play every single day. The only days they didn't come was when it rained. On those days Kenju stood alone by the edge of the forest, soaked completely through, as the rain drizzled down from the soft white sky.

"Hey Kenju. You standing watch over the forest again today?" joked the people walking by in their straw rain-capes. The cedar trees had borne red-brown fruit and the cold crystal clear drops of rain dripped slowly down from the tips of the magnificent green branches. Kenju would stand there forever and ever, his mouth wide-open, laughing and laughing in between breaths, steam rising up from his body in the rain.

There came a day when there was a thick fog. Kenju ran into Heiji near the field used for thatching rooves. Heiji looked carefully around, and then made an angry face like a wolf,

"Kenju, cut down those cedars," he barked.

"Why?"

"They're blockin' the sun from my field."

Kenju said nothing and looked down at the ground. If the cedars were blocking the sun from Heiji's field it couldn't have been any more than half a foot. If anything, they were actually protecting his field from the strong southerly winds.

"Cut 'em down, cut 'em down! Are you gonna cut 'em down?"

"No, I'm not," Kenju answered, looking up nervously. His lips twitched as if he were on the verge of tears. These were the only defiant words he'd spoken in his entire life. But Heiji thought that Kenju, the nice person that he was, was making a fool of him, and he flew into a rage, squaring off his shoulders and hitting Kenju in the side of the face. He hit him again and again and again.

As he was being hit, Kenju held his hands in front of his face without saying a word, but eventually bruises began to show all over his face and he started to stagger. Then, appearing somewhat sickened, Heiji hurriedly folded his arms and walked abruptly off into the fog.

Well, that autumn Kenju caught typhoid fever and died. Exactly ten days before that, Heiji also died of the same disease. Not affected by that in the least, the children still came to play in the forest every single day.

Our story races ahead.

The next year the village received a rail line and a station was built only three hundred yards east of Kenju's house. Here and there large factories were built for manufacturing chinaware and spinning silk. One after the other, the fields and rice paddies were all filled in and houses built on top of them. And all of a sudden, it was now a large town. But for some reason, in amongst all of that, only Kenju's forest remained as it was. The cedars were barely six feet tall, and the children came to play every single day. A school was built right next to it so eventually the children came to believe that the forest and the grass field to the south of it were an extension of their own playground.

Kenju's father's hair had completely grayed. Why, that was only natural; it had been nearly twenty years since Kenju died.

One day, a young professor who had left that village many years ago and was now lecturing at a university in America, came back to visit his hometown for the first time in fifteen years.

Where were the reminders of the fields and forests from long ago? And most of these people had moved here from out of town.

But one day, the professor received a request from the elementary school and gave a talk in front of all the students about life in a foreign country. After the talk, the professor headed out onto the playground together with the principal and other teachers, walking in the direction of Kenju's forest. The young professor was unable to believe his eyes, adjusting his glasses again and again, before finally mumbling half to himself,

"Oh, this is exactly as it was. Those trees are exactly as they were. In fact, they look smaller. And the children still play. Ah! Perhaps I can see myself or my old friends in there."

A smile suddenly spread over his face as if he'd just woken from a dream,

"Is this now the school playground?" he asked the principal.

"No, it's not. This land is actually owned by that household over there, but they don't mind the children playing here at all, so although it appears to be the playground of the school, it isn't actually so."

"That's very unusual. What is the reason for that?"

"After the town started to grow, there were a lot of people offering to buy that property, but apparently the old man told them that this was the only reminder he had of Kenju, so he could never bring himself to sell it, no matter how hard things might get."

"Ah that's right, I remember, I remember. We always thought there was something not quite right about Kenju. He was the one that was always laughing out loud. He'd stand right about here and watch us playing. Apparently he was the one who planted all of these cedars. I guess you really can't tell who is smart and who isn't. The Buddha surely works in mysterious ways. This will forever be a beautiful park for the children. What do you think of this? We name this Kenju's Forest Playground and preserve it as it is forever more?"

"That is a great idea. How happy that would make the children!"

And that is exactly what happened.

A blue stone monument with the inscription "Kenju's Forest Playground" was erected in the middle of the grass area in front of the children's forest.

The school received an enormous amount of letters and donations from people who'd gone to that school many years ago, and were now successful attorneys, or military officers, or had small farms across the ocean.

Kenju's family cried tears of joy.

It would be impossible to guess how many thousands of people would be taught what real happiness was by the refreshing smells, the cool summer shade, and the moonlight colored grass beneath those beautiful green and black cedars in this forest playground. And just as when Kenju was alive, whenever it rained, the forest dripped crystal-clear icy-cold drops of water onto the short grass; and whenever the sun shone, the forest sent up a beautiful wave of fresh new air.

THE END
Ame-ni-mo makezu

(I Won't Be Beaten By The Rain)

by Kenji Miyazawa

I won't be beaten by the rain

I won't be beaten by the wind

I won't be beaten by the snow, nor the summer heat

because I'll be strong and healthy

without greed

never angry

always laughing to myself

I'll have four servings of brown rice

with miso-soup and a few veggies each day

I'll listen and observe carefully

and take in everything

never thinking of myself

and I won't forget

I'll live in a small thatched-roof hut

in a field beneath the shadows of a pine forest

if there's a sick child to the east

I'll go and look after them

if there's a tired old woman to the west

I'll go and carry her bundles of rice

if someone lies on their deathbed to the south

I'll go and tell them they have nothing to fear

if there's an argument or dispute to the north

I'll tell them to stop being foolish

I'll shed tears when there is drought

I'll wander restlessly when the summer is cold

people will call me a blockhead

I won't receive any praise

and I won't worry

that's the kind of person

I want

to be
Gon the Fox

by Nankichi Niimi

Chapter 1

An old man by the name of Mohei who lived in my village, told me this story when I was little.

A long time ago, not far from our village, there was a place called Nakayama, which had a small castle and a lord, also by the name of Nakayama. And in the hills a short distance from Nakayama, there lived a fox called Gon, who'd made his home in a hole he'd dug in a forest overgrown with lush green ferns. Gon the fox was always going into the nearby village to cause mischief, any time of the day or night. He'd make all sorts of trouble, digging up potatoes and tossing them all over the ground, setting fire to bundles of rapeseed flowers hung out to dry, or stealing chili peppers strung up outside the back of the farmer's houses.

One autumn, it had been raining non-stop for two or three days and Gon had been crouched in his hole, unable to go outside. When at last the rain cleared, Gon breathed a sigh of relief and crawled out of his hole. Outside there was a bright blue sky and the cries of the Bull-headed Shrikes rang through the air.

Gon walked up to the edge of the small stream that ran through the village. Drops of rain, still clinging to the tops of the pampas grass, glistened in the sun. Normally there was very little water in this stream, but after three full days of rain the water level had risen all at once. Pampas grass and clumps of bush clover, normally well away from the water's edge, were sloshing about in the murky water. Gon walked further downstream along the muddy path.

Suddenly he noticed a person standing in the middle of the river. He quickly crept into the long grass, where he could watch without being seen.

That's Hyoju, thought Gon.

Hyoju was standing waist deep in the stream with a hand towel tied around his head. He'd rolled up the sleeves of his ragged black kimono and was dragging a fishing net back and forth through the water. A clump of bush clover was stuck to the side of his face like a mole.

After a while, Hyoju hoisted the end of his fishing net - which was in the shape of a bag - out of the water. It was filled with grass roots, weeds, rotten sticks and other rubbish, but there was something else as well; something white and shiny. They were the stomachs of a big fat eel and some large whiting. Hyoju tipped the eel and the whiting together with all the other rubbish, into his wicker fishing basket. He then closed off the opening of the net and placed it back in the water.

With that done, he waded out of the water with his basket, placed it on the ground, and wandered upstream as if in search of something.

As soon as Hyoju was out of sight, Gon sprang out from his hiding spot and raced up to the basket. Gon, you see, was in the mood for a little mischief. He picked out the fish from the wicker basket and, aiming downstream from the fishing net, he flung them, one at a time, back into the stream. Each of the fish landed with a plonk, quickly diving beneath the murky water.

To finish, he tried picking up the big eel, but the eel was all slimy and kept slipping through his paws. Losing patience, he thrust his head into the basket and grabbed the head of the eel between his teeth. The eel gave out a sharp shriek and wrapped itself around Gon's neck. Just then, Hyoju yelled out from a distance,

"Hey! You thieving fox!" Gon jumped into the air with a fright. He tried flinging the eel away so he could make his escape, but the eel was tightly wrapped around his neck. He leapt sideways, eel and all, and raced off as fast as he could run.

He didn't dare look back until he was at the alder tree near his home, but by that time, Hyoju was nowhere in sight. He breathed a sigh of relief, and then bit down on the head of the eel to make it let go, before placing it on the grass outside his home.
Chapter 2

About ten days later, as Gon was passing behind Yasuke the farmer's house, Yasuke's wife was standing in the shade of a fig tree, dying her teeth black. And when he passed Shinbei the blacksmith's house, Shinbei's wife was busy combing her hair.

Ha ha thought Gon, there must be something going on in the village today. I wonder what? Maybe an autumn festival... nah, if there was a festival I'd be able to hear drums and flutes. And there'd be lots of banners out the front of the shrine.

While he was busy thinking, Gon came up to Hyoju's house, which had a small red well out the front. Hyoju's tiny run-down house was filled with people. Several women, with hand towels tucked in the back of their formal kimonos, were tending to a fire beneath the cooking stove. A giant pot was bubbling away on top.

Ah ha, it's a funeral, thought Gon. One of Hyoju's relatives must have died.

After midday, Gon went to the cemetery and hid in the shadows of the six Jizo statues. It was a perfect clear day and the tiles on the roof of the castle could be seen sparkling in the sun, far off in the distance. Inside the cemetery, the red spider lilies were in full bloom, covering the ground like a giant red cloth. Gong! Gong! - the sound of a bell rang out from the village, the signal for the funeral procession to depart.

Shortly afterwards, some members of the procession, dressed in white kimonos, trickled into view. The sound of people talking moved closer and closer. The procession entered the cemetery. The red spider lilies were trampled beneath their feet as they passed.

Gon stood on tippy-toe so that he could see. Hyoju was wearing a formal kimono and holding a memorial tablet. Normally so cheerful with a face like a red sweet potato, today he looked miserable.

Ahh, it must have been Hyoju's mum, realized Gon, and pulled his head back in.

That night Gon was thinking to himself inside his hole.

I bet Hyoju's mum had been sick in bed, saying she wanted to eat some eel and that was why Hyoju was out fishing. But then I went and played a prank on him and took off with his eel so he never got a chance to give his mum any before she died. I bet all she could think about when she was dying was how much she'd like to eat some eel. Darn! I wish I hadn't played such a stupid prank!
Chapter 3

Hyoju was washing some wheat by the red well. Up until now Hyoju had lived together with his mother with very little money, but now his mother had died he was all by himself.

He's all alone, just like me, thought Gon, as he watched Hyoju from behind a nearby storeroom.

As he walked away from the storeroom, Gon heard the cry of the sardine man going door to door.

"Cheap sardines for sale! Get your fresh sardines!"

Gon ran toward the sound of the man's booming voice. Just then, Yasuke's wife appeared at the back entrance and called out,

"I'll have some sardines please."

The sardine man stopped his cart by the side of the road, grabbed two handfuls of shiny sardines and carried them into Yasuke's house. Seizing his chance, Gon raced up and grabbed five or six sardines out of the basket and then raced back the way he came. When he got to Hyoju's house he tossed them through the back door, and then quickly ran back in the direction of his home. He turned around when he reached the top of the nearest hill and was just able to make out Hyoju, still washing his wheat beside the well.

Well at least I've done one good thing to make up for the eel, he thought.

The next day Gon collected an armful of chestnuts from the forest, and carried them to Hyoju's house. When Gon peaked in through the back door, he saw Hyoju staring blankly into space, his bowl in his hands with his lunch half-eaten. Strangely, he had a gash across his cheek. Gon was wondering what could have happened when Hyoju mumbled out loud,

"Who on earth threw those sardines into my house? Thanks to them people think I'm a thief and the sardine man tries to knock my head in."

Uh oh, thought Gon. Poor Hyoju got beaten up and left with that big gash on his face.

As he was thinking this, Gon crept quietly round to the storeroom and left the chestnuts by the doorway.

Gon collected chestnuts and took them to Hyoju's house the next day too, and then the next day after that. The day after that, not only did he take chestnuts, but two or three matsutake mushrooms as well.
Chapter 4

One evening when the moon was shining bright, Gon was walking aimlessly in the forest. After passing beneath Nakayama Castle, he suddenly noticed some people walking the other way down the narrow path. He heard the sound of people talking. Chin-chira-ling, chin-chira-ling sang the pine crickets.

Gon hid perfectly still by the side of the road. Their voices moved closer and closer. It was Hyoju and Kasuke the farmer.

"Oh yeah, Kasuke," said Hyoju.

"Yeah?"

"Something really strange has been going on recently."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know who, but ever since mother died, someone's been bringing me chestnuts and mushrooms every day."

"Yeah!? Who?"

"That's what I told you, I don't know. They always bring them when I'm not around."

After they'd passed, Gon started following behind them.

"Truly?"

"Yeah, truly! If you think I'm lying, come 'round tomorrow and see for yourself. I'll show you the chestnuts."

"Huh, that's weird."

They continued walking in silence.

Suddenly, Kasuke turned around behind him. Gon froze to the spot, trying to make himself as small as possible. Not noticing anything, Kasuke hurried on ahead. After reaching the house of Kichibei, another farmer, the two headed inside. Pon-pon-pon-pon came the sound of a wooden gong. A light shone through the paper sliding window, the outline of a priest's shaven head moving across it.

They must be praying, thought Gon, as he crouched down beside a well. Not long after, another group of three arrived and went inside. Afterwards there came the sound of someone reading a Buddhist sutra.

Chapter 5

Gon stayed crouched down by the well until they'd finished praying. Hyoju and Kasuke headed off home again. Gon followed close behind in Hyoju's shadow so he could listen to their conversation.

When they came to the castle, Kasuke said,

"What you were talking about before, I think it must be God."

"Huh?" muttered Hyoju in surprise, looking over at Kasuke.

"I was thinking about it the whole time, and well, I don't think it's a person... it's God. God's taken pity on you because you are all alone, so he brings you these things."

"I don't know about that."

"I'm sure it is. You should say a prayer to God every day, to thank Him."

"Right."

Huh, that's not fair, thought Gon. I'm the one taking him chestnuts and mushrooms everyday, but instead of thanking me he goes and thanks God. What's the point!?
Chapter 6

Gon took chestnuts to Hyoju's house the next day as well. Hyoju was in the storeroom making some rope. Gon crept quietly into the house through the back door. Just then Hyoju happened to look up.

Was that a fox going into my house? That rotten fox Gon that stole my eel that day, he's up to no good again.

"Right."

Hyoju stood up, went across and grabbed his rifle off the wall and loaded it with gunpowder. He then crept quietly up to the back door, and just as Gon was coming out again - Bang! - he shot him. Gon flopped to the ground.

Hyoju ran up to Gon, but then, glancing inside the house, his gaze fell on the chestnuts lying on the floor.

"Huh!" exclaimed Hyoju in surprise, looking down at Gon.

"Gon, was it you? Are you the one who's been bringing me chestnuts?"

Gon nodded, his eyes clenched tight.

The rifle fell from Hyoju's hands, landing with a thud, a thin trail of blue smoke still rising from the barrel.

THE END
Grandpa's Lamp

by Nankichi Niimi
Chapter 1

Toichi, who had been hiding down the back of the storeroom in a game of hide and seek, came out holding a kerosene lamp.

It was different from any lamp he'd seen before. It had a thick bamboo stand around eighty centimeters tall, and sitting on top of that was a tiny section for the flame. Its globe was a narrow glass tube. It was so strange that most people seeing it for the first time wouldn't know it was a lamp.

Toichi and his friends thought it was something else entirely.

"I think it's an old rifle," said Sohachi, who had been 'it' in their game of hide and seek.

At first, Toichi's grandpa didn't realize what it was either. He had to peer over the top of his glasses before he finally recognized it.

But when he saw that they were holding a lamp, he started to scold them.

"Look here you kids, what are you doing with this? I leave you lot alone for a minute and you start dragging out all kinds of things. You're like thieving cats! Bring that here now and go play outside. Why don't you go play round a power pole or something! There's plenty of things to play with out there."

It was only after grandpa yelled at them that they realized they'd done something wrong. Toichi had been the one that had picked up the lamp, but even the neighborhood kids who hadn't touched anything at all, walked outside with gloomy faces as if they'd all done something bad.

Outside, the springtime afternoon wind picked up the dust and hurled it along the street, a white butterfly occasionally fluttering hurriedly by on the heels of a slowly plodding oxcart. Indeed, there were plenty of power poles along the street. But the children certainly didn't play around any of them. Children never like playing the way grownups tell them to.

They quickly raced off in the direction of the park, glass marbles rattling noisily in their pockets, and it wasn't long before they were completely absorbed in their games and had forgotten all about the lamp.

When dusk fell, Toichi came back to the house. The kerosene lamp was standing in a corner of the living room. But Toichi didn't dare ask his grandfather about it for fear he'd receive another scolding.

It came to that boring time after dinner. Toichi was leaning against a chest of drawers, banging the loose metal handles...clang, clang, clang...or going into the store to watch as a teacher from the agricultural school with a beard, ordered a complicated sounding book from the store clerk; Theory and Practice of Radish Cultivation.

After he grew tired of that, he went back to the living room, and after checking to see that his grandpa wasn't around, he shuffled over on his knees to where the lamp was, and, after removing the globe, he started drawing the wick in and out again by turning a screw the size of a small coin.

He was completely absorbed in playing with the lamp when his grandpa caught him for the second time. But this time grandpa didn't scold him at all. He called to the maid to bring him some tea, and slipping out his tobacco pipe, he said,

"Toichi, this lamp brings back a lot of memories for me. I'd forgotten about this for many years, but when you dug it out from the storeroom today, all those memories came flooding back. When you get old like me, it's quite exciting when you come across something like this from your past, even a lamp."

Toichi stared open-mouthed at his grandpa. After his grandpa had scolded them earlier he assumed his grandpa had been angry, but in fact he was happy at having rediscovered the lamp.

"I've got a story from long ago that I want to tell you, come sit over here," said his grandpa.

Toichi enjoyed listening to stories so he sat down in front of his grandpa just as he'd been told, but sitting like that made him feel like he was about to hear some kind of sermon, so he made like he always did when he listened to stories at home. In other words, he lay sprawled out on the floor with his feet pointing in the air, every now and then clapping the soles of his feet together like some kind of street performer.

This is the story his grandpa told.

______________________________________

This story of mine starts around fifty years ago, back when Japan was at war with Russia, and it's about me. In the village of Yanabe Shinden there was a thirteen year old boy named Minosuke.

Minosuke had no parents and no siblings, nor did he have even a single relative. He was a true orphan. Minosuke did work for the other families in the village, running errands, threshing rice, even babysitting, which was normally done by girls. He would basically do anything a boy of Minosuke's age could do, and this allowed him to stay in the village.

But the truth was, Minosuke didn't like having to rely on the generosity of other people in this way. He often thought to himself that if he had to spend his life babysitting or threshing rice every day, then there wasn't much point having been born a man.

A man was supposed to make his own way in the world. But how could he do that? He was barely making ends meet. He didn't even have enough money to buy one book, and even if he did have the money, and actually bought it, he'd never have time to read it.

Deep down, Minosuke was always waiting for a good opportunity to establish himself.

Then early one afternoon, Minosuke was asked to help out with a rickshaw.

In those days, there were always two or three rickshaw operators in Yanabe Shinden. Most of the people who traveled from Nagoya to go swimming in the ocean would take the steam train to Handa, and afterwards they'd take a rocky rickshaw ride the rest of the way from Handa to Ono, or Shinmaiko. Either way they would pass through Yanabe Shinden.

Because the rickshaws were pulled by people, they didn't move very fast. And to get from Yanabe Shinden to Ono they needed to go over a mountain pass, which meant it took even longer than usual. To make matters worse, in those days the rickshaw wheels were made of heavy steel rings, which clattered noisily along the road. If a customer were in a hurry they would pay double the fare to have the rickshaw pulled by two men. The customer who hired Minosuke was a summer tourist and was in a hurry to get to the ocean.

With a rope tied to the rickshaw slung over his shoulder, Minosuke heaved one, two, one, two, as he ran along the hot road beneath the late afternoon summer sun. As he wasn't used to this kind of work it was particularly grueling. But that didn't worry him in the slightest. He was burning with curiosity. That was because, as far back as he could remember, Minosuke had never set foot outside his own village, and he had no idea what kind of village or what kind of people there were on the other side of the mountain pass.

The sun had begun to set and the people dotted here and there had started to take on a pale hue in the bluish twilight, when the rickshaw finally entered the town of Ono.

In that town, Minosuke saw many things he'd never seen before. To begin, the sight of so many large stores all lined up in a row was a first for Minosuke. In his village there was just the one small shop which sold cheap sweets and straw sandals, silk spinning equipment, ointment and sea shells that contained eye lotion, and pretty much anything else that people in the village had a use for.

But what really surprised Minosuke were the glass kerosene lamps that shone like flowers, lighting up every one of these big stores. When night came, most of the houses in Minosuke's village were without light. Inside those houses it was pitch black and people had to grope around blindly looking for things like water jugs, stone mortars, or just the main pole of the house. Families that were a little more extravagant made use of the paper lanterns carried by the brides when they came to get married. A paper lantern had a plate filled with oil that was surrounded by paper on all sides. A tiny flame about the size of a cherry blossom bud burnt on a wick that rose slightly above the plate, giving a warm mandarin-colored glow to the paper, and providing a weak light for the surrounding area. But no matter what kind of paper lantern was used, there was no way they could compare to the brightness of the lamps Minosuke saw in Ono.

What's more, these lamps were made of glass, which was still quite rare in those days. In Minosuke's eyes, that alone was enough to make them superior to paper lanterns, which often became sooty or torn.

These kerosene lamps made the entire town of Ono so bright Minosuke felt like he was walking inside the Palace of the Dragon God. He even felt reluctant to return to his own village. People, wherever they may come from, don't like returning home to a dark place from a bright one.
Chapter 2

Minosuke collected his pay of fifteen sen and took leave of the rickshaw, wandering through the seaside town with the sound of waves crashing relentlessly on the shore, like a drunk, peering into all of the fantastic stores, captivated by the beautiful bright lamps.

In the draper's, the clerk had spread out some fabric dyed with a large camellia flower, and was showing it to a customer beneath the light of a lamp. In the grain merchant's, a shop boy was sitting under a lamp, sorting through adzuki beans, picking out the bad ones. In one house, a girl was playing a game of hajiki, and the shells laid out in front of her were shining a brilliant white under the light of her lamp. In another store someone was making a Buddhist rosary, guiding a thread through a hole in each of the tiny beads. These everyday scenes from people's lives, under the vivid blue light of the lamps, took on a kind of nostalgic beauty, as if they were from a world out of a storybook or a magic lantern.

Minosuke had often heard people say how 'cultural enlightenment was making Japan a more advanced society,' but this was the first time he felt that he understood what 'cultural enlightenment' actually meant.

Continuing along, he eventually came to a store where lots of lamps were on display inside. Surely this was a lamp store.

Minosuke hesitated for a little while in front of the store, tightly gripping the 15 sen he held in his hand, but finally he made up his mind and walked confidently inside.

"Please sell me one of those," he said, pointing at one of the lamps.

(He didn't know the word 'lamp' yet.)

The shopkeeper took down the large hanging lamp Minosuke had pointed to, but it couldn't be bought for 15 sen.

"Give me a discount please," asked Minosuke.

"Not for this one," replied the shopkeeper.

"Please, give me the wholesale price."

Minosuke knew that things had a retail price and a wholesale price, and that the wholesale price was cheaper. This was because he would often take straw sandals that he made himself and sell them to the general store. They would buy the straw sandals Minosuke made at the wholesale price of 1½ sen, and then they would sell them to a rickshaw driver at the retail price of 2½ sen.

The store owner was surprised to hear this from a young boy, who he'd never seen or heard of before , and he took a long look at Minosuke's face. Then he said,

"The wholesale price? I could sell it to a lamp seller for the wholesale price, but I can't sell it to an ordinary customer for that price."

"So I could have it at the wholesale price if I was a lamp seller?"

"Sure."

"Then I'm a lamp seller. Please give it to me at the wholesale price."

The shop owner, still holding the lamp, burst out laughing.

"You're a lamp seller? Ha ha ha..."

"Mister, it's true. From now on, I'm going to start selling lamps. Please, just sell me one today at the wholesale price. Next time I will buy a lot more."

Although he laughed at first, the shopkeeper was impressed by Minosuke's sincerity, and after asking Minosuke a few questions about his situation, he said,

"Alright then, if that's the case, I'll sell you this one at the wholesale price. To be honest, even at the wholesale price this is not 15 sen, but I'm impressed by your enthusiasm, so I'll give you a discount. But in return, make sure you sell lots of lamps. Go out and sell as many of my lamps as you can."

And saying that, he handed over the lamp.

After learning the basics of how to use it, Minosuke headed back to his village, lighting the road home with his new lamp.

There was no longer any need to be frightened by the pitch black mountain path that continued endlessly through the dense thickets and pine forests. He was carrying a lamp that was as bright as a flower.

And there was another lamp burning inside his heart. That lamp burnt with his desire to bring light into the lives of the people in his own dark village, which had fallen behind in this era of cultural enlightenment, by selling them this wonderful modern convenience.
Chapter 3

But at first, Minosuke's new business didn't take off at all. This was because farmers tend to be suspicious of anything new.

After thinking of different strategies, he decided to take the lamp to the one and only village store and lend it to them for free so they could try it out.

The old lady at the store reluctantly agreed. She promptly hammered a nail into the ceiling and hung the lamp from it, lighting it for the first time that night.

Five days later when Minosuke took some more sandals to sell at the store, the old lady was grinning as she told him what a convenient and bright thing it was, that customers could now come into the store at night and she didn't have to worry about mistaking their change, and that she was very pleased with it and could she please have one. She then told Minosuke that because the villagers had seen the benefits of a lamp, there were already three people who had put in orders. Minosuke felt like he was on cloud nine.

After taking payment for the lamp and the sandals, he headed straight for Ono, running most of the way. After he explained the situation to the owner of the lamp store, the owner lent him the amount that he was short, and he bought three lamps so that he could take them back and sell them to those people who had put in orders.

After that Minosuke's business began to prosper.

At first he would only go to Ono after he had received an order, but when he had built up enough savings he began purchasing in bulk, whether he had orders or not.

And he was soon able to quit running errands and babysitting and concentrate only on selling lamps. On the back of a cart, he attached a frame like the ones used for drying clothes, and from it he hung as many lamps and lamp globes as he could fit. The glass lamps made a soft tinkling sound as he traveled around selling them from village to village.

Although Minosuke was able to profit from his business, there was more to it than that, he really enjoyed selling lamps. The lamps sold by Minosuke were gradually lighting up the houses that had previously been so dark. It was as if he was lighting the flame of cultural enlightenment in each of these dark houses, one at a time.

Minosuke grew into a young man. Until now he had never lived in a house of his own, but had instead been allowed to stay in an old rundown shed at the back of the ward mayor's. Having now saved a little money, he was able to build a house of his own. Soon after, he met a woman who took an interest in him, and they got married.

One day, as he was preaching the benefits of a lamp, he said, "...and with a lamp, you'll be able to read a newspaper while you are sitting on the floor," which was something the ward mayor had told him, but the customer replied, "That's hard to believe." Minosuke hated the idea of being thought a liar, so he decided he would see for himself. He borrowed a newspaper from the mayor and spread it out beneath the light of a lamp.

The mayor had been telling the truth. Every one of the tiny characters of the newspaper could be clearly made out under the light of the lamp. "I haven't been lying to anyone," said Minosuke to himself. But even though he could clearly see each character, they didn't mean anything to him - because he couldn't read.

"Even if lamps let us see clearly in the dark, it's not real cultural enlightenment if we can't read."

With this as his motivation, from that day on, Minosuke went every evening to the ward mayor's to learn how to read.

He was so dedicated to his studies that after only a year, he could read as well as anyone else in the village that had graduated elementary school.

After that he learnt to read books.

By now he was in the prime of his manhood, and his wife had given birth to two children. Every now and then he would ask himself, How did I manage to get this far all on my own? and then he'd think, I've still got a way to go before I'm fully established though. Such thoughts gave him a warm sense of self satisfaction.

One day he was walking to Ono to stock up on lamp wicks, when, as he approached the town, he came across a group of workers who had dug a hole by the side of the road, and were placing a big thick pole in it. At the top of the pole there were two horizontal pieces of timber that looked like wooden arms, and on top of these arms were white ceramic knobs that looked like little fat men. As he was wondering to himself why they would be placing such strange objects along the side of the road, he soon came across another tall pole, a sparrow singing away on its wooden shoulders.

These strange looking poles had been placed in the ground every fifty meters or so.

Minosuke came across an old man drying noodles in the sun, so he asked him what these poles were for. He told Minosuke,

"They are connecting up this thing called electricity. Once they do that, we won't need lamps anymore."

Minosuke didn't understand. That's because he knew nothing at all about electricity. If it's supposed to replace lamps, then this electricity thing must be some kind of light. But if it's a type of light then they should be lighting up the inside of people's houses. What's the point of putting all of these great big poles along the road, he wondered.
Chapter 4

About a month later he was again visiting Ono, when he saw that those big poles that they had been putting in along the roadside, now had several black wires running over the top. Each black wire did a loop around the head of one of the little fat men sitting on the pole's wooden arms, and then continued on to the next pole, where it did another loop and continued on to the next, and so on, and so on.

After following it for a while, he noticed that two sets of black wires would occasionally separate from the head of the little fat men, and join up with the side of a house.

"What? I thought electricity was supposed to be some kind of light. It's just a cable. Well, it's a nice place for the sparrows and the swallows to take a rest," said Minosuke, laughing to himself. But on entering the amazake teahouse where he was a regular customer, he saw that they had taken down the large lamp that used to hang above the main dining table in the center of the room, and placed it against the wall. In its place, hanging from the ceiling by a thick cable, was a weird lamp that looked like a miniature version of the old one, but without a hole for pouring in kerosene.

"What's this weird thing you've got hanging here? Was there something wrong with the other one?" asked Minosuke.

The owner of the teahouse replied,

"Ah, that's the electricity they installed. Don't need to worry about setting fire to the place, it's much brighter, and you don't need matches. It's very, very convenient.

"Huh! But look how ugly it is. It doesn't suit your store at all. This will lose you customers."

The teahouse owner remembered he was talking to a lamp salesman so he didn't say anything more about the convenience of electric light.

"You see that. Take a look at the ceiling there. Look at how black it is. That's taken years and years of lamp soot to get that color. And now that lamp's gone, just like that. Just because this new convenience called electricity comes along, it gets pulled down and tossed in a corner. That's no way to treat a good lamp."

By taking the side of the lamp in this way, Minosuke refused to admit any of the benefits of electric light.

But before long, evening came, and without anyone striking a single match, the teahouse suddenly became as bright as day. Minosuke was astonished. It was so bright he instinctively looked behind to see what happened.

"Minosuke, this is electricity."

He stood for a long time, staring at the electric light through gritted teeth, making a face as if he were staring down the enemy. He stared so hard his eyeballs started to hurt.

"I hate to be the one to tell you Minosuke, but lamps just don't compare. Poke your head outside and take a look up the road."

He walked sulkily over, opened the paper sliding door and took a look outside. Electric lights were shining brightly in every house and every shop, the same as the teahouse. There was so much light it spilled out of the houses and poured into the street. It was almost blinding for someone like Minosuke, who was only used to the light of a kerosene lamp. Minosuke stood staring at the scene for a long time, his shoulders heaving out each breath with bitter resentment.

A formidable adversary has emerged, thought Minosuke to himself. Up until now he had always sung the praises of cultural enlightenment, but he just couldn't understand that the electric light was a modern convenience more advanced than the lamp. Even a very smart person, when their livelihood is at stake, loses their ability to judge things correctly.

From that day on, deep down, Minosuke was afraid of electric lighting coming to his own village. If electric lighting came to his village, then all the villagers would most likely take down their lamps and hang them against the wall, just as the owner of the teahouse did, or they might just stow them away in the attic. No one would need to buy lamps anymore.

But he comforted himself by thinking about how much effort it had taken just to get lamps into the village; surely they'd be too afraid of electric lights to accept them without some kind of struggle.

But when he heard the rumor not long after, that the next town council would be debating about whether to introduce electric lighting to the village, he felt as if he'd just received a smack over the head.

The time has come to welcome thee, formidable enemy of mine.

He could no longer just sit back and watch. He made his opinion known to everyone.

"This thing called electricity uses great long wires that pass deep through the mountains, so you can be sure that those wires will lead all the foxes and raccoon dogs to your farms where they'll steal all of your rice and veggies."

This is the kind of ridiculous thing that he would tell people in order to protect the business he had grown accustomed to. Every time he said something like this though, he felt a pang of guilt.

When the town council was over and he heard that electric lighting was finally coming to the village of Yanabe Shinden, he felt as if he'd just received another smack over the head. He thought to himself, if I keep getting smacked over the head like this I'll start going crazy.

And that's exactly what happened. He started going crazy. For three days after the town council, Minosuke stayed in bed with the covers pulled over his head. And that's when he started losing his mind.

More than anything else he wanted someone to blame. So he decided to blame the mayor who had acted as the chairman on the town council. Then he thought of all the different reasons why he should despise the mayor. Even someone who is ordinarily an intelligent person, when it comes to a crucial moment where their livelihoods are at stake, loses their ability to make rational decisions. They start bearing the most ridiculous grudges.
Chapter 5

The night sky was lit up by the moon and the rape blossoms were in full bloom. Far in the distance came the sound of drums, announcing the start of a spring festival.

Minosuke didn't take the normal road. He ran along the ditches like a ferret, stooped down low, and barged through the thickets like a stray dog. People do this when they want to avoid being seen.

Because he'd stayed there for so many years, he was very familiar with the layout of the mayor's home. He'd decided the moment he left the house that the best place to light a fire would be the cowshed, because of its straw-thatched roof.

In the main house everyone was sound asleep. And it was quiet in the cow shed too. That's not to say that the cows were necessarily asleep, because cows are quiet whether they are awake or asleep. But even if they were awake, it wasn't going to stop him from lighting the fire.

Instead of bringing matches, he'd brought his old flint and steel he had used before matches had become available. He'd searched around the wood cooking stove for some matches before leaving the house, but hadn't been able to find any. Luckily his hand had fallen on the flint and steel, so he'd brought that instead.

He started striking the steel against the flint. It sent out a burst of sparks, but because the char cloth was damp, it wouldn't light. This flint and steel isn't very convenient, thought Minosuke to himself. Not only can't it start a fire, it's so loud, it's bound to wake everyone up.

"Damn! I should've brought matches. What an old piece of junk! The one time you really need it and it doesn't even work."

Suddenly he stopped and thought about what he'd just said.

"...old piece of junk! The one time you really need it and it doesn't even work...old piece of junk! The one time you really need it and it doesn't even work..."

With these words, Minosuke's head suddenly cleared, like the moon breaking through the clouds.

He finally realized his error. The kerosene lamp was now an outdated device. The world had a new and far more convenient device called the electric light. The world had become that much more advanced. Cultural enlightenment had progressed. If Minosuke really was a citizen of this nation of Japan, he should be proud that his country had made this much progress. Attempting to stand in the way of social progress out of fear of losing his own outdated business, and trying to set a fire because he bore a grudge against someone who'd done nothing wrong, was a disgraceful way for a man to act. If the world had moved on and no longer needed this kind of outdated business, then shouldn't he act like a man, discard his old business, and start a new business that will be of more use to people?

Minosuke went back to his house the way he'd come.

So what did he do then?

He woke up his sleeping wife and he asked her to get all the lamps that were in the house and fill them with kerosene.

When she asked him what he was intending to do at such a late hour of the night, Minosuke said nothing, for if she had known what he was planning then surely she would have stopped him.

After they'd all been brought out there were fifty lamps in total, all of varying sizes. And they were all filled with kerosene. He hung them from his cart, just as he always did when he went out selling lamps, and headed off. This time he made sure he took his matches.

Along the road heading to the western mountain pass is a large lake called Lake Handa. After the spring rains it was filled to the brim, and beneath the light of the moon its smoky surface glimmered like a silver plate. Next to the lake were willows and alder trees, leaning over the water as if trying to see their own reflection.

Minosuke had purposefully chosen a place where there were no people.

So what did he do with the lamps?

He started lighting them. He lit each lamp and then hung it from a branch of one of the trees next to the lake. He hung lamps of all different sizes, side by side. When there was no more room on one tree, he moved to the next one along. Eventually he managed to hang all fifty lamps from three trees.

It was a windless night and each of the lamps burned steadily, without a flicker, lighting up the area like it was day. Attracted by the light, fish glimmered on the surface of the water like shimmering knives.

"This is my way of quitting," said Minosuke out loud.

But he was reluctant to leave, and stood gazing at the trees, their branches crammed with lamps, his arms dangling loosely by his side.

Lamps, lamps, my good old lamps. Been with me for so long.

"This is my way of quitting," he repeated.

Minosuke walked back to the main road on the near side of the lake. He could see the lamps burning above the shore on the other side. All fifty lamps continued burning steadily. Another fifty lamps were burning upside down on the lake's surface. Again he stopped and stared at them for a long time.

Lamps, lamps, good old lamps.

Eventually he bent over and picked up a stone at his feet. Then, taking aim at the lamp with the biggest flame, he threw it as hard as he could. The glass smashed and the largest flame disappeared.

"Your time has passed. The world has moved on," said Minosuke.

He picked up another stone. The glass smashed on the second biggest lamp and its flame was gone too.

"The world has moved on. Now it's the age of electricity."

After he'd broken the third lamp, tears began to well in his eyes, so he could no longer see the lamps properly to aim at them.

And that was how Minosuke quit his business. After that he went into town and started a new business. A book store.

___________________________________

"Minosuke still owns a book store. Of course now he's gotten quite old, so his son's taken over," said Toichi's grandfather, finishing up his story, and sipping his tea that had grown cold.

Of course Minosuke was Toichi's grandpa, and Toichi was now looking earnestly into his grandpa's face. Toichi had sat up while listening to the story, with his hands on his grandpa's lap.

"So, what happened to the other forty seven lamps?" he asked.

"I don't know. Maybe some people traveling along the road found them and took them home."

"So, didn't you even have one lamp in your house?"

"No, not even one. All that was left was this lamp stand," said grandpa, looking over at the lamp Toichi had dragged out that afternoon.

"You lost money, didn't you grandpa? Someone took away forty seven of your lamps," said Toichi.

"Yes, I lost money alright. When I think about that now, I didn't really need to go and do that. Even after electric light finally made it to Yanabe Shinden, I still could have easily sold fifty lamps or so. There was a small village south of Yanabe Shinden called Fukadani, and they still use lamps even now, and there were other villages that kept using lamps for some time. But anyway, in those days I had a lot of energy. If I thought of something, I just went and did it, without thinking too deeply about it."

"You were silly weren't you grandpa?" said Toichi, who felt his grandpa was someone he could speak his mind to.

"Yes, I was silly alright. But I'll tell you one thing Toichi," said grandpa, gripping the tobacco pipe upon his knee tightly between his fingers. "The way I did it may have been silly, but I have to say, I think the way I quit my business was the best way of doing it. I'll tell you what I mean. If the country moves on, and a business is no longer of any use, then it's better to just do away with it and start over. Don't be forever hanging on to a stale, outdated business, always talking about the good old days when business was good, resenting the world for having moved on. You never want to be gutless like that."

Toichi sat staring quietly at his grandpa's animated face for some time. Finally, he said,

"You had guts, didn't you grandpa?"

Then he looked with fondness at the old lamp next to him.

THE END
The Story of the Giant

by Nankichi Niimi

Chapter 1

The giant lived with his mother in the woods, far, far away.

His mother was a frightening witch; you know the one, that scary witch with a long nose like an eagle, and piercing eyes like a snake.

One moonlit night, when the witch and the giant were already asleep, there was a knock on the door outside. The giant got out of bed and opened the door, and standing there were two women and a young girl.

"This child is the princess of this land," said one of the women. "We are her attendants. Today we took her highness into the forest to play, but we became lost and have only now come upon your house. Please take mercy on us and grant us shelter for the night," she asked.

"Our house is only poor," called out the witch in a caring voice, "but please do come in and rest." So the three of them came inside and went to sleep.

When the giant woke the next morning the two women had been turned into black birds, and the princess into a swan. The witch had cast a spell on them.

Despite the giant's efforts to stop her, the witch then pitched all three of the birds out the window, and they all flew away. However, when evening came, the swan, whimpering sadly, returned to the witch's house. Taking pity on the swan, the giant decided that he would raise it in secret. During the daytime he let it free in the fields, and during the night, he let it sleep in his bed.

As the giant grew bigger and bigger, the witch gradually became old, and eventually she could no longer move. She would spend each day lying on her bed teaching her son the giant how to cast spells. But all of that magic was for turning humans into different kinds of birds and animals.

The witch was becoming weaker and weaker and was finally close to death. The giant thought that if he didn't ask her how to break the spells now, the swan would never go back to being a princess. He leant down beside her pillow and he said,

"Mother, you've taught me how to turn humans into all kinds of birds and animals, but you haven't told me how the spells are broken. Please, tell me how it's done."

"Alright then, I will teach you," replied the witch, but she was quite out of breath and her voice was no bigger than a mosquito's.

"Mother, please say it clearly!" said the giant and placed his ear right next to the witch's mouth.

"If the creatures shed tears, they return to their original form..." said the witch, and then her head fell limp and she was dead.

The giant placed the dead witch in a white coffin and buried her beneath a palm tree. Then taking the swan with him, he left their house in the woods.

He had decided to go to the capital. On his way there he tried to make the swan shed tears. He tried knocking it on the head, and he tried pinching its tail. But the swan didn't shed even a single tear. It just whimpered sadly. The giant felt terrible, and eventually he ended up with his cheek pressed against that of the swan's. And it was the giant's eyes in which tears began to well.

The giant walked all through the day and all through the night, arriving at his destination of the capital on the seventh day after leaving his house. But the people in the capital knew the giant was the son of that terrifying witch, so they thought up a round-about way in which they could kill him. They then sent a representative to the king's palace. When he met the king, this is what he said:

"Your majesty's palace is beautiful, however a passing traveler was once heard to say that a palace without a marble structure is a blemish on the king's reputation. Why not build a tower of marble?"

"Yes, that's a very good idea. But where on earth can one find marble?"

"If you walk a long, long way south of here, over a mountain and across a desert, you will come to a small village. It is said that in that village one can obtain as much marble as one might want."

"I see, but who will go and get it?"

"For that, the giant who is now in the capital would be perfect. He is as tall as a palm tree and can climb over a small hill in just one stride."

"Then bring him here."

So the giant was brought to the Royal Palace and ordered by the king to go and fetch the marble. To stop him from running away, they attached an iron chain to his leg.

"I shall bring it for you," said the giant, and taking the swan with him, he headed south. As the giant traveled further and further south, the chain remaining at the palace grew shorter and shorter. Finally on the nineteenth day, the end of the chain was reached and it pulled taut against the thick pillar it was tied to.

At the same time, after overcoming all kinds of troubles, the giant finally arrived in the marble village. As the villagers were very kind, they allowed him to take as much marble as he wanted. The giant took three large marble slabs, placed them on his back, and with the swan perched on top, set off again for the capital.

In the capital, the chain became slack, so the people began hauling it back in. This time, because he was carrying such heavy rock, it was thirty days before the he finally arrived back in the capital.

After such a long arduous journey the giant had become thin and haggard like a withered old tree. But that wasn't enough for them to let him be. From that day, he was ordered to build a tower of marble next to the spring that ran through the palace gardens. But the giant was pure of heart and never complained, nor felt sorry for himself. Instead he did just as he had been ordered, working every day and every night, splitting the marble with his mallet and chisel, gradually piling the blocks higher and higher. The swan was perched on his back the whole time he worked. And there it sat peacefully. While he was swinging his mallet he would talk to the swan like he were talking to a person.

"How can I get you to shed tears? When will you cry? I feel so sorry for you, if you don't shed tears you can never be a princess again. Please go back to being a beautiful princess soon."

At those times the swan would bend her neck down to listen to the giant, but she never shed any tears.

The giant's tower progressed further and further. Even late at night, the sound of his mallet echoed through the air from the top of the tower. The people in the capital would make sure to open their windows and look up at the tower where the giant was working before going to bed. Up there they could see a light that shone like that of a star.

After three months all the marble the giant had brought, had been used up. The tower was now taller than any other building in the palace grounds. But that still wasn't enough for the king. So the giant headed south once more. With the long chain dragging behind him and the swan on his shoulder, the giant walked day after day through the endless desert. He received another three slabs of marble and returned to the capital. The same day he returned, he took up his mallet and chisel and began cutting up the marble.

The tower grew higher and higher.

Even on cloudy nights when no stars could be seen, the light from the giant's tower hung in the night sky as if it were the only star.

One evening when the wind was quite strong, the people in the capital looked out their windows at the light of the giant in the tower above. It was swaying back and forth in the wind. It was only then that the people began to feel sorry for the giant. The king also put his head out the window and looked up at the tower. In between the bellowing of the wind he could hear the sound of the giant's mallet. Did the king finally feel sorry for the giant?

"It is a terrible thing to make him work on a night such as this. And he is such a gentle fellow. Tomorrow I will put a stop to this work," said the king to himself. Of course the giant was unaware of any of this, and steadily continued his work. And while he worked he thought of how he could make the swan shed tears and turn her back into a princess. Suddenly it occurred to him - what if I were to die. Turning to the swan that was sleeping on his warm back, he asked her,

"Would you be sad if I died?"

The swan's eyes popped open and she flapped her wings as if to say,

You mustn't do that!

" I mustn't die? Then if I were to die then you would definitely shed tears. Right! I will go to heaven for you."

The giant stood up straight, and removed the swan from his back. The swan tugged at his clothes to try and stop him. The giant rubbed his cheek against the swan's one last time, and said,

"Beautiful swan, farewell, you will soon return to being the beautiful princess you once were...," and he flung himself from the top of that tall tower.

He died the instant he hit the ground.

Oh how that swan did cry. Her tears flowed like a waterfall. The spell was finally broken and she returned to being the beautiful princess she once was. The princess wept uncontrollably as she half-ran, half-fell down the steps of the tall tower, flying into her father the king's room.

She then told him all that had happened. When he heard this, the king lowered his head, begging forgiveness from the giant, and expressing his gratitude.

The king soon told the people of the capital what had happened, and the people cried and apologized to the giant.

The giant's body was covered in the leaves from a laurel tree and buried in a sand hill east of the city.

The princess often said to the king and her mother the queen,

"All I wanted was to stay a swan, sitting on the giant's back, forever and ever."

And to this day, on cloudy evenings when the star of Venus sits all alone in the moist sky, the people down south often look up and say,

"There's the light from the giant's tower."

THE END
When the Thieves Came to Hananoki Village

by Nankichi Niimi

Chapter 1

Long, long ago, a gang of five thieves arrived in Hananoki Village.

It was the middle of an early summer's day, and all around brand new shoots of skinny bamboo were reaching up into the sky, while the spring cicadas in the pine forest cried out gee - gee - geeee.

The thieves came from the north, walking along the river. When they came to the entrance to the village they saw children and cows frolicking about in the green fields that were covered in garden sorrel and toothed bur clover. They only needed to take one look at this to know that this was a peaceful village. And that made them very happy, because that meant the people here must have a lot of money and expensive kimonos.

The river ran through a grove, spinning a waterwheel as it went - thump, thump - before heading deep into the village.

When they came to the grove, the boss of the gang spoke to the others.

"Right then, I'll wait here in the shade of these trees. You lot go into the village and come back and tell me what you see. Now don't forget - you're all new to this thieving game, so be careful you don't mess up. If you see a house that looks like there might be a lot of money, look closely to see if there are any windows that might be broken, and find out if they've got a dog. Right Kamaemon?"

"Yes," replied Kamaemon, who until yesterday traveled around the country casting pots and tea kettles.

"Right Ebinojo?"

"Yes," replied Ebinojo, who until yesterday was a traveling locksmith, making locks for storerooms and chests for storing valuables.

"Right Kakube?"

"Yes," replied Kakube, a traveling lion dance acrobat from Echigo, who until yesterday was performing handstands and somersaults in the street in exchange for some copper coins.

"Right Kantaro?"

"Yes," replied Kantaro, the son of a carpenter from Edo, who until yesterday had been traveling through the provinces researching temple gates and shrines as part of his studies to become a carpenter.

"Right, off you go. I'm the boss so I'll have a smoke while I wait for you here."

The apprentice thieves, Kamaemon, pretending to be a pot maker, Ebinojo, pretending to be a locksmith, Kakube, playing a lion dance tune on his flute, and Kantaro, pretending to be a carpenter, made their way into Hananoki Village.

Once they were gone, the boss sat down on some grass by the edge of the river, and did just as he said he would, making a face like a thief as he puffed away on his pipe. The boss was a genuine thief who'd been lighting fires and stealing for many, many years.

"Yesterday I'd only ever worked on my own, but look at me now. I'm in charge of a gang of thieves. This is something I could get used to. My students go out and do all the work, and all I have to do is lie here and wait."

As he had nothing else to do, he sat there boasting to himself like this.

Eventually the first apprentice, Kamaemon, returned.

"Boss! Boss!"

The boss sat bolt upright beside a flowering thistle.

"Oh, heck, you scared me! Don't be calling out boss in such a loud voice."

"Oh, I'm very sorry," apologized the freshly apprenticed thief.

"Tell me, what did you see in the village?" asked the boss.

"Yes, that's a wonderful village, boss. They've got 'em. They've got 'em, alright."

"What've they got?"

"There was this really big house, and they had a huge pot for cooking rice; you could cook rice for forty people in it. That'd be worth a fortune. Also, the bell hanging in the temple is really, really big. If you melted it down you could easily make fifty pots. It's true, I wasn't imagining things, you know. If you think I'm lying, you just wait, I'll make 'em for you."

"Stop boasting about something so ridiculous," said the boss, scolding his apprentice.

"It's no good, you're still thinking like a pot maker. What kind of thief goes 'round looking at rice pots and temple bells? And why are you holding that pot? It's got a hole in it."

"Oh yes, I was passing by a house when I saw this pot had been put out on a hedge to dry. I took a look at it and saw it had a hole in the bottom. Of course I completely forgot that I was a thief now, so I told the lady that I could fix it for 20 mon."

"What a bonehead! This is because you haven't fully come to terms with the fact you are now a thief," said the boss, instructing his apprentice like a good boss was supposed to.

"Go back to the village and make sure you have a proper look this time," he ordered.

Kamaemon headed back into the village, swinging the pot as he went.

Next to come back was Ebinojo.

"Boss, this village is no good," said Ebinojo, downcast.

"Why's that?"

"The storehouses here don't have anything resembling a decent lock. The one's they use here, even a child could bust them open. If that's all they use then there's no business for me."

"What _is_ your business?"

"Huh? ...a ...a... l...lock... smith."

"You're still no proper thief either," yelled the boss.

"Ah, sorry boss."

"Shouldn't this kind of village be perfect for our business? Could there be anything better for us than storehouses with locks that could be busted open by even a child? Bonehead! Go back and take another look."

"Oh, now I see. This kind of village is perfect for our business," repeated Ebinojo, heading back into the village with renewed enthusiasm.

The next to come back was young Kakube. He came back playing the flute, so the boss was able to hear him coming from the other side of the grove.

"How long are you going to keep playing that flute? Don't you know thieves are supposed to be as quiet as possible?" said the boss, scolding his apprentice.

Kakube quit playing his flute.

"So what did you see?"

"After I'd walked some distance along the river I came up to a small house with a garden covered in blooming irises."

"Uh huh. Then?"

"Beneath the eaves of the house was an old man. His hair, his eyebrows and his beard were as white as snow."

"Uh huh. And did this old guy look like the sort who was hiding a pot full of gold coins under his veranda?"

"The old man was playing a flute made of bamboo. To be honest, it was quite an ordinary looking flute, but the sound it made was truly magnificent. I've never heard such beautiful and mysterious music in all my life. When he saw me listening, the old man smiled at me, and then he played three long tunes for me. To show him my appreciation, I did seven somersaults for him in-a-row."

"Goodness! Then what?"

"After I'd told him how much I liked the flute, he told me a place where you can find flute bamboo. Apparently that's where he'd got the bamboo for his flute. So I went to the bamboo grove that he told me about and there were hundreds of flute bamboo plants."

"There's an old folktale about a man who finds gold inside a bamboo stalk. How about it, were there any gold coins lying on the ground?"

"After I'd gone quite a bit further down river from there, I came to a small convent. They were holding a festival to pray for a good harvest. The gardens were filled with people, and they were pouring hydrangea tea over a statue of the Buddha that was no bigger than my flute. I poured some over the statue too, and then I drank some of the tea. If I'd only had a cup I would have brought you some too boss."

"Oh God, what a naive thief you are! When you are in a crowd like that you should be concentrating on picking people's pockets. You silly fool! Go back and look again! And leave that flute here."

After being scolded by the boss, Kakube placed his flute in the grass and headed back to the village.

The last to return was Kantaro.

"I bet you didn't see much either," said the boss before Kantaro had even spoken.

"Oh no, there are rich people in that village. There are definitely rich people," replied Kantaro enthusiastically.

A smile appeared on the boss' face when he heard the word rich.

"Rich you say?"

"Rich, yes rich! There was a really magnificent house."

"Yeah?"

"The ceiling in the living room was made out of a single piece of Cryptomeria, and after I saw that, I couldn't stop thinking how impressed my father might be if he were to see it."

"Huh, well that's hardly useful, is it? What are you going to do, make off with the ceiling?"

Kantaro suddenly remembered he was now an apprentice thief. Embarrassed by his foolishness, Kantaro hung his head down ashamedly, and headed back into the village to take another look.

"Oh goodness," exclaimed the boss, alone once again. He lay down in the grass on his back.

"Being the boss of a gang of thieves is not as easy as I thought."
Chapter 2

Suddenly he heard cries of -

"Thief!"

"Thief!"

"Over there, get him!"

\- from a large group of children.

The boss leapt to his feet. Even coming from children, such cries were enough to frighten a thief. He was weighing up whether he should jump into the river and swim to the other side, or race into the woods and hide in there.

But the children, brandishing rope and toy truncheons, ran off in the opposite direction. They were playing Catch-a-thief.

"What's this? They are just playing?" muttered the boss as he regained his composure.

"What kind of game is Catch-a-thief for kids to be playing? Why don't kids play nice games anymore? You have to worry about the future of kids these days," mumbled the boss, despite being a thief himself.

He was about to lie back down in the grass when from behind, someone called,

"Excuse me, mister."

Turning around he saw a smart looking boy of around seven holding the reins of a calf. From the look of his facial features and pale hands and feet, he didn't appear to be a farmer's boy. Maybe some rich kid had been brought here to play by one of his house servants, and had pestered the servant until they gave him the calf to play with. The strangest thing was, on the boy's small white feet, were straw sandals, like the ones used by travelers when they walk great distances.

"Look after this calf for me please."

Before the boss had a chance to reply, the boy walked up and handed him the calf's red reins.

The boss had only managed to mumble a few words before the boy suddenly ran off after the other children. Racing off to join his friends, the boy with the straw sandals never even bothered to look back.

The boss, who had been half in a daze as he was handed the calf, looked down at it and began to laugh.

Most calves are a real nuisance to hold onto because they are always leaping about, but this calf was docile, and stood still where it was, innocently blinking its large moist eyes.

"Hmph, ha ha. Ha ha ha."

Laughter rose up from his belly, and he laughed and laughed and couldn't stop.

"Now I've something to brag about to these students of mine. I'll tell 'em, 'while you lot were moping about the village like morons, I've gone and stolen this calf.'"

"Ha ha haa, Ha ha haa, Hee he he," he laughed. He laughed so much that tears started to flow from his eyes.

"Huh, that's strange. I'm laughing so much I've started shedding tears."

But the tears didn't stop; they flowed and flowed and flowed.

"What's going on here, I'm shedding so many tears, anyone would thing I was crying."

Exactly. The big boss of this gang of thieves was crying.

――――――――――――――

He was happy. Up until now people had only ever given him cold stares. When he would walk along the street, he'd often hear them say, 'Here comes a strange looking guy,' and they would close their windows and turn down their blinds. Whenever he asked strangers for directions, even people who had just been talking happily, would suddenly turn away as if they'd just remembered some work they had to do. Even carp swimming near the surface of a pond, would flip over with a splash and dive down to the bottom whenever he got close. One time he gave a performing monkey that was sitting on the back of its trainer a persimmon to eat, and it threw it on the ground without even taking a bite. Everybody hated him. Nobody trusted him. But this boy with the straw sandals, gave him, a thief, a calf to look after. The boy thought he was a good human being. And this calf was so quiet, it wasn't repulsed by him at all. In fact it was nestling up to him as if he was its mother. That boy and this calf, they both trusted him. This was a first for him, a thief. It made him so happy to be trusted by someone.

Right now, his heart was pure. He'd had a pure heart once when he was a child, but that was a long time ago, and he'd been living dishonestly for many many years. It was a strange feeling, like suddenly changing out of your dirty work clothes into your Sunday best.

――――――――――――――

And that's why the tears began flowing from his eyes and wouldn't stop.

Evening came round. The spring cicadas stopped singing. A white evening mist drifted silently in from the village, spreading out across the grass field. The children were now playing some distance away, and their cries of –

"Are you ready?"

"Not yet..."

\- were lost amongst all the other sounds.

The boss waited for the little boy as if he was waiting for himself to return. He was standing ready to say "Here you go!" and hand back the calf with a smile so the boy would never think he was a thief.

But the shouts of the children gradually faded in the direction of the village, and then disappeared altogether. The boy in the straw sandals never returned. The moon that was floating above the village began to shine like a craftsman's freshly polished mirror. An owl in the distant woods began to sing two hoots at a time.
Chapter 3

The calf started to rub up against the boss' leg as if it were hungry.

"I can't help ya. I haven't any milk for ya," said the boss as he stroked the calf's spotted back.

Tears started flowing from his eyes once more.

Just then all four of his apprentices returned together.

"Boss, we're back. Looky here, where'd you get this calf?" exclaimed Kamaemon on seeing the calf. "You're no ordinary thief, are you boss? While we were looking around that village, you've gone and pulled off a job of your own."

"Yeah, that's what I was planning on telling you all, but it's not really true," said the boss, turning away to hide his face that was wet with tears. There's a reason for this."

"Eh boss, they're not tears.... are they?" asked Ebinojo in a hushed voice.

"Once these tears start flowing, I can't get 'em to stop," said the boss, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve.

"Boss, you'll be proud of us," said Kantaro enthusiastically. "This time each of us have gone around that village like proper thieves. Kamaemon discovered five houses with pots made of gold, Ebinojo checked the locks on five storehouses and found each could be opened using a bent nail, I saw five houses I could use my carpentry skills to easily cut through the back wall using this saw, and Kakubei saw five fences that he could either jump over on his own or by wearing his high clogs. Tell us we've done good."

Without commenting on their efforts, the boss said,

"I was given this calf to look after. But they haven't come back to get it, so I'm at a loss as to what to do. I'm sorry, but could you guys split up and search for the boy who handed me this calf?"

"Boss, are you going to give this calf back?" asked Kamaemon, who couldn't understand what was happening.

"Yes."

"Do thieves do that kind of thing?"

"I've got a reason. This is one I have to give back."

"Boss, you have to think more like a thief," advised Kantaro.

Grinning sheepishly, the boss explained the situation to his apprentices. After hearing the boss' explanation, they sympathized with his feelings and promptly set off to look for the young boy.

"He's a fine looking lad, about seven years old. He's wearing straw sandals, and he's got a shaved head," said the boss as his apprentices spread out to begin the search.

Unable to sit still any longer, the boss joined the search as well, pulling the calf as he went.

On a night when the multiflora rose and white deutzia flowers glowed faintly in the moonlight, five adult thieves, pulling a calf behind them, wandered around the village searching for a child.

He might still be playing hide and seek, they thought, so they looked beneath the shrines by the road where the earthworms were crying, and they looked up in the persimmon tree, and they looked inside the storerooms, and they looked in the shadows of the wonderful smelling mandarin tree. And they asked the villagers.

But there was no sign of him at all. The farmers lit paper lanterns so that they could take a good look at the calf, but none of them had seen it around here before.

"Boss, I don't think we are going to find him, even if we search all night. It's time we gave up," said Ebinojo sitting down exhausted on a rock by the side of the road.

"No, I have to find that boy and give it back to him," insisted the boss.

"But we've already tried everywhere," said Kamaemon. "The only thing we haven't done is go and ask for help from the village officer, but you wouldn't want to go there, would you boss?"

(These days, the equivalent of the village officer would be the local policeman.)

"Hmm," murmured the boss, before thinking quietly to himself.

He gently patted the head of the calf, before announcing,

"Right, let's go there," and walked off.

His apprentices were shocked, but they had no alternative but to follow after him.
Chapter 4

After being given directions to the house of the village officer, they were greeted at the door by an elderly man with glasses that hung down the end of his nose, which immediately gave them a sense of relief. If worse comes to worst, they could always push him aside and make a run for it.

The boss explained the story of the young boy, finishing by saying,

"So we don't know where he is and we are not sure what to do."

"I haven't seen any of your faces around here before, where have you come from?" asked the old man, taking a look at each of them in turn.

"We have come from Edo and we are traveling west."

"You wouldn't happen to be thieves, would you?"

"No, of course not," replied the boss in a fluster. "We are traveling tradesmen. Pot makers, carpenters, locksmiths and the like."

"Well, no, of course, that was a silly thing for me to ask. You people are not thieves. A thief would never bring something back now, would they? If you gave something to a thief to look after, why they'd be more than happy to make off with it right there and then. No, I apologize for asking such a silly question after you've had the good conscience to come here and hand in this calf. Because of my position here, I've gotten into the habit of being suspicious of people. These days I only need to take one look at someone and I think to myself, that man looks like a swindler, or this man looks like a pickpocket. Please don't think badly of me," apologized the old man.

After it was settled that the old man would take care of the calf, a servant came and led it round to the barn.

"I am sure you must be very tired from your journey. I was sitting on the veranda enjoying the moon, about to open a nice bottle of sake that I just received from Nishi-no-Yakata. You came at a good time. Please, come join me for one."

Saying this, this kind old man led the five thieves onto his veranda.

There they drank the sake, and these five thieves and this village officer were completely at ease in each other's company, laughing and chatting as if they'd all been friends for at least ten years or more.

But before long the boss realized he was shedding tears again. When the old man saw this, he said,

"It seems that you are a crying drunk. I myself am a laughing drunk, and when I see a person crying, I always burst out laughing. Please don't think badly of me, because I'm about to start laughing."

And saying this, he opened his mouth wide and began to laugh.

"No, these tears of mine, once they start flowing, I just can't stop them," said the boss blinking repeatedly.

The five thieves then said their thanks and left.

After they'd passed through the gate and made it as far as the persimmon tree, the boss suddenly stopped as if he had just remembered something.

"Did you forget something, boss?" asked Kantaro.

"Yeah, I did. Come back with me," he said, and with his apprentices in tow, he went back to the village officer's house.

"Old man," he called, placing his hand on the veranda.

"What's this, a heart to heart? Is the crying drunk going to play his trump card? Ha ha ha," laughed the old man.

"The truth is, we _are_ thieves. I am the boss, and these men are my apprentices."

The old man stared at him in disbelief.

"I totally understand your surprise. I myself hadn't the least intention of making such a confession. But you are a very kind man, and when I saw the way in which you trusted us as honest people, I could no longer bring myself to deceive you any longer."

The boss then confessed all of the bad things he had ever done. And when he was finished confessing, he said

"But these men here, they only became my apprentices yesterday, and they haven't done anything bad yet. The only thing I ask, is that you show these men mercy and forgive them."
Chapter 5

The next morning the pot maker, the locksmith, the carpenter and the lion dance acrobat all headed in separate directions out of Hananoki Village. Their eyes were mostly cast down as they walked. They were thinking of the boss. They were thinking that he was a good boss. And they were thinking that because he was a good boss, they had to obey his last words of, "Don't ever go back to being a thief."

Kakube picked up his flute from where he'd left it in the grass by the river, and played it as he walked off.

――――――――――――――

And so it goes that the five thieves were able to mend their ways, but the question remains, who was the young boy that was responsible for it all. The people of Hananoki Village tried looking for the boy who saved the village from the thieves, but they never found him, and eventually they came to this conclusion ―

It was the small Jizo statue that had sat at the foot of the earthen bridge since long long ago. The fact the boy was wearing straw sandals proved it. This was because the people of the village often placed straw sandals at the feet of the Jizo statue as an offering, and someone had left a new pair there that same day.

― It certainly would be strange for a Jizo statue to be walking around in a pair of straw sandals, but it was thought the world could do with this amount of strangeness. Not to mention that this story happened a really long time ago, so, what does it matter? But if it were actually true, then it would mean that the Jizo statue saved the people of Hananoki Village from the thieves because they were such kind-hearted people. And if that were true, then that would also mean a village needs to have people living in it that are kind-hearted.

THE END
Buying Mittens

by Nankichi Niimi

The cold winter had made its way down from the north to the woods where a mother fox lived with her young cub.

One morning the little fox was about to go outside to play, when suddenly he cried out, and rolled back down in front of his mother with his paws pressed over his eyes.

"Ma, something's stuck in my eye. Quick, quick, take it out," he pleaded.

Suddenly in a fluster, his mother rushed to pull back her son's paws from in front of his eyes, fearful of what she might see - but there was nothing there. When she took a look outside their hole, she soon realized what had happened. There had been a huge snowfall during the night and the glare of the sun on the fresh white snow was blinding. Having never seen snow before, the little fox was surprised by the bright glare and mistakenly thought something had hit him in the eye.

He soon went out to play. As he ran through the snow that was as soft as a ball of silk, he sent snow powder flying like a spray, tiny rainbows appearing instantly around him.

Then, suddenly from behind came a great noise,

DO-TA DO-TA Zaaaa!!

and the little fox was covered in powdery snow. Startled, he jumped sideways and rolled for about ten meters or so. He looked back to see what had happened, but there was nothing there. A huge clump of snow had fallen from the branches of a fir tree. Silky white threads of snow were still floating down between the branches.

A little while later the little fox returned to their hole.

"Ma, my hands are cold. They've gone all num num" he said, placing his wet paws that were now bright pink in front of his mother. Mother fox took them and blew on them, wrapping them gently in her own warm paws.

"They'll be warm soon enough. Once you touch the snow they start to warm up," she said, but she hated the idea of her baby getting frostbite and decided that when evening came, she would go to town and buy some mittens to fit her little boy's hands.

The dark, dark night arrived, wrapping up the woods and the fields with its shadow like a sheet, but no matter how hard it tried, it couldn't smother the snow's brilliant white light rising up from the ground.

The two silver foxes emerged from their hole. The little fox walked beneath his mother's stomach, busily looking this way and that, his big round eyes wide with excitement.

After they'd walked for a while, a single bright light appeared up ahead. When the little fox saw that, he said,

"Ma, that star has fallen down."

"That's not a star," replied his mother, and suddenly her legs froze to the spot.

"That is the light from the town."

Seeing the light had reminded her of the terrible experience she had the last time she went to town with her friend. Despite her pleas to stop, her friend tried to steal a duck from a farmhouse, and when they were sprung by the farmer they both had to run for their lives, only barely managing to escape.

"Ma, what are you doing? Come on, let's go," said the little fox from under his mother's tummy, but her leg's refused to take her any further. As there was nothing she could do, she had to ask the little one to go into town on his own.

"Sweetie, give me one of your paws," she said to the little fox. As she held her son's paw in her own, it suddenly turned into a tiny human hand. He stretched out the fingers, made a fist, pinched it, and then put it up to his nose to smell it.

"Ma, this is weird, what is it?" asked the little fox as he stared with wonder at this strange-looking paw.

"That's a human hand. Now listen carefully honey. When you get to the town you'll see a lot of human houses. Make sure to look for the one with a picture of a top hat on the sign out front. After you find that, knock on the door, and then call out, 'Good evening!' After you do that, a human will come and open the door just a wee bit, then you take this hand, see, this human hand here, and put it through the doorway, and you say 'Can I please have some mittens to fit snug on my hands?' Do you understand me sweetie? You mustn't show them this hand here," warned the little fox's mother.

"Why not?" asked the little fox.

"If a human realizes that you are a fox, they won't sell you any mittens. Even worse than that, they'll grab you and put you in a cage. Humans are scary."

"Oh."

"Never show them this one, just this one here, see, the human one," stressed his mother as she placed two silver coins in the little fox's human hand.

The little fox tottered slowly across the snow-lit field towards the light of the town. Although there was only one light at first, it soon increased to two and then three, until finally there were ten. As he looked at these lights, the little fox thought to himself that lights were like stars, with reds and yellows and blues. Eventually he arrived in the town, but all the houses along the street had their doors closed, and the only sign of life was from the warm light falling onto the road from the windows high up.

Most of the houses had small electric lamps above their shop signs, so the little fox was able to look at these as he searched for the hat shop. There were signs with pictures of bicycles, seeing glasses, and all kinds of other signs. Some were newly painted, while others were peeling like an old wall, but the little fox didn't know what any of them meant because he had never been into town before.

Finally he came to the hat store. The sign with the large black silk hat his mother had given him directions for, was lit up by a blue electric light.

The little fox knocked on the door just as he had been told.

"Good evening," he called out.

There came the sound of movement inside, and finally the door opened just a couple of inches, a thin ribbon of light stretching out along the white snow-covered road.

Startled by the bright light, the little fox accidentally put the wrong paw in through the gap - the one his mother told him he mustn't show.

"Can I please have some mittens to fit snug on my hands"

_Oh, my!_ thought the hat maker. _A fox paw. A fox paw asking for some mittens. I bet he is going to try and buy them with some leaves_. So he said,

"Please pay first."

The little fox did as he was asked, handing the hat maker the two silver coins he had been holding. Placing the coins between his thumb and forefinger, the hat maker rubbed the two coins together, and the coins went clink, clink. He then knew that they weren't leaves but real coins, so he took two child-sized mittens from the shelf and placed them in the paw of the little fox. The little fox thanked the hat maker and then headed back in the direction that he had come.

_Ma said humans were scary, but they aren't scary at all_ , he thought. _He didn't do anything when he saw my hand._

But the little fox was curious to see what humans were like.

As he passed beneath a window he heard the sound of a human speaking. It was so gentle; so beautiful; such a charming voice.

Go to sleep, go to sleep

On mama's breast

Go to sleep, go to sleep

In mama's arms

The little fox was sure the person singing must be a mother. That's because his own mother sang him songs just like that when she was rocking him to sleep.

Then he heard a small child speak.

"Mummy, when it's cold like tonight, the little fox in the woods will be crying 'I'm cold, I'm cold."

The mother spoke again,

"The little fox in the woods will also be listening to his mummy's singing as he goes off to sleep in his hole. Now it's time for you to go to sleep too. I wonder who will be the first to get to sleep, you or the little fox in the woods? I think it will be you.'

When he heard this, the little fox suddenly wanted to see his mum again, and raced toward where she was waiting for him.

Mother fox had been beside herself with worry, shaking as she waited anxiously for her little one's return, so when he did come back she hugged him tightly in her arms and was so happy she wanted to cry.

The two foxes returned to the woods. Their coats shone silver under the bright moon, their footprints filling with dark-blue shadows.

"Ma, humans aren't scary at all."

"Why is that?"

"I accidentally stuck out my real paw. But the man didn't try and grab me. He just gave me these nice warm mittens," replied the little fox, patting the mittens that were now on his paws together, as he showed them to his mother.

"Really!" gasped his mother, before wondering out loud,

"I wonder if humans really are good. I wonder if they really are."

THE END
About the Authors

**Nankichi Niimi** was born Shohachi Watanabe in what is now Handa City, Aichi Prefecture, on July 30, 1913, with the year 2013 marking 100 years since his birth. Gon the Fox is studied by every Japanese child in elementary school and it was recently estimated that over 60 million people have read this story, which he wrote at just 18 years of age. Although Niimi went on to write a large number of poems and short stories, such as _Buying Mittens, Grandpa's Lamp_ and _When the Thieves Came to Hananoki Village_ before his death from tuberculosis at age 29, _Gon the Fox_ is undoubtedly the most famous and well-loved of all his works, and perhaps the most famous Japanese children's story of all time.

**Kenji Miyazawa** is one of Japan's best known and well-loved writers and poets. He was born in what is now Hanamaki City, Iwate Prefecture, Japan, in 1896. Although the eldest son of a wealthy pawnbroker and landowner, Kenji was a deeply spiritual person who led a frugal life, and when he wasn't writing, volunteered a great deal of his time teaching farmers how to improve their crop yields, or organizing concerts for classical music in his local village. He was a prolific writer who completed hundreds of works, but only a small collection of those were published while he was still alive, his reputation as one of Japan's greatest storytellers only coming after his death in 1933, aged 37.

**About Little J Books**

Hi, my name is Paul and I started Little J Books because I personally wanted to be able to read more of these kinds of Japanese stories in English, especially in ebook form. By putting these stories into an ebook format they will be available for anyone to access anywhere in the world, forever. That last word is key, because quite often translators do an incredible job of translating a book into English, but after it gets published and sells out, it's gone. But now with ebooks and publishing on demand (POD) that is changing. So thank you so much for choosing to read this book, and if you would like to get involved somehow please send me an email at mailto:info@littlejbooks.com.

Other titles by Little J Books

Tales from a Japanese Dreamland: Book 1

Ame-ni-mo Makezu + Kenju's Forest Playground

by Kenji Miyazawa

Ame-ni-mo Makezu

Perhaps the most famous Japanese poem of the modern age, it was written by Kenji while lying on his death bed and was never seen by anyone else until after his death. This significance of this poem has increased greatly for the Japanese people following the Great East Japan Earthquake, with many people using it to reflect on what truly is important in their lives.

Kenju's Forest Playground

Kenju is different from other kids his age, and he gets teased a lot. But Kenju can see things all around that others can't. One day, completely out-of-the-blue, he decides to plant seven hundred cedar trees, and those trees become something that no one ever imagined.
Other titles by Little J Books

Tales from a Japanese Dreamland: Book 2

Gauche the Cellist & Other Stories

by Kenji Miyazawa & Nankichi Niimi

Gauche the Cellist

Gauche is a hopeless musician and he's always being yelled at by the conductor. It's not because he doesn't try, it's just that there is something lacking in his music. With a big concert approaching, Gauche receives some special music lessons from his closest neighbors.

The Nighthawk Star

The nighthawk has a hard time of it. He's got a face like a mud pie, he gets teased by all the other birds and he has to put up with bullies. Hans Christian Andersen was a great inspiration to Kenji and you will recognize something of the Ugly Duckling in this story, but the setting and the finale is classical Kenji, making this story a standout favorite amongst many Japanese readers.

Wild Pear (Yamanashi)

A surreal tale about a family of crabs on the bottom of the river. The amazing descriptions of life under the water will leave you with a truly new perspective on the world. An extremely well-crafted fable, with a profound underlying message.

The Restaurant of Many Orders

This is perhaps the most famous of Kenji's short stories and one of his personal favorites, as it was the title story of his one and only self-published collection of short stories. Two hunters go on a hunting trip in the country and end up completely lost. Luckily they come across what appears to be an extremely popular restaurant...but everything is not as it seems

Buying Mittens by Nankichi Niimi

Mama fox only wants the best for her little one, so when the cold winter arrives and her precious boy needs some mittens, then she knows what she must do. The only problem is that she is afraid and her legs won't take her any further. So her son must go on his own. The highlight of this delightful children's story is the beautiful description of the foxes' journey through the snow covered woods during the middle of the night.
Other titles by Little J Books

Tales from a Japanese Dreamland: Book 3

Buying Mittens

by Nankichi Niimi

Mama fox only wants the best for her little one, so when the cold winter arrives and her precious boy needs some mittens, then she knows what she must do. The only problem is that she is afraid and her legs won't take her any further. So her son must go on his own. The highlight of this delightful children's story is the beautiful description of the foxes' journey through the snow covered woods during the middle of the night.
Other titles by Little J Books

Tales from a Japanese Dreamland: Book 4

Gon the Fox & other stories

By Nankichi Niimi & Kenji Miyazawa

Gon the Fox

Gon is a cheeky fox that loves to play pranks on people, but one day he plays a prank that has unexpected consequences, so he decides to make amends.

Niimi wrote this story when he was only seventeen years of age, and now more than seventy years after his death it remains one of the best known and loved Japanese stories of all time.

The Story of the Giant

All of the town's people are terrified of the giant because he is enormous and he is the son of that horrible old witch. But is it possible that they may have misjudged him?

Grandpa's Lamp

Minosuke was born a poor orphan, but with a little luck and a lot of hard work he manages to carve out a business of his own and starts to rise up in the world. One day a competitor arrives that threatens to take it all away from him. A fascinating insight into the period of transition in Japan, from a country in darkness to one bathed in light.

When the Thieves Came to Hananoki Village

What could be a better hunting ground for a thief than a village where people don't even bother with proper locks? The only trouble is that these thieves have no idea what they are doing, and it is up to the boss to train them. But just when the boss appears to have made a wonderful score, the story takes an unexpected turn.

Ame-ni-mo Makezu

Perhaps the most famous Japanese poem of the modern age, it was written by Kenji while lying on his death bed and was never seen by anyone else until after his death. This significance of this poem has increased greatly for the Japanese people following the Great East Japan Earthquake, with many people using it to reflect on what truly is important in their lives.

Kenju's Forest Playground

Kenju is different from other kids his age, and he gets teased a lot. But Kenju can see things all around that others can't. One day, completely out-of-the-blue, he decides to plant seven hundred cedar trees, and those trees become something that no one ever imagined.
Other titles by Little J Books

Tales from a Japanese Dreamland: Book 5 – RRP ONLY $4.99

10 of the Best Stories from Kenji Miyazawa & Nankichi Niimi

Book 5 contains all titles from Books 1 – 4.

Other titles by Little J Books

Tales from a Japanese Dreamland: Book 6

Night on the Milky Way Railroad

By Kenji Miyazawa

(DUE OUT FOR CHRISTMAS 2013)

Giovanni is having trouble concentrating at school because he has no spare time to play anymore; he has to deliver newspapers in the mornings and help out in the newspaper office in the afternoons. His local village is getting ready to hold the festival of the stars, but seeing all those people enjoying themselves only makes Giovanni so much lonelier. One evening Giovanni finds himself taken on the most amazing adventure he could ever dream of.

This is Kenji's masterpiece and the culmination of a lifetime of study. Kenji takes readers on an unforgettable once-in-a-lifetime journey through our magnificent Milky Way.
Other titles by Little J Books

Tales from a Japanese Dreamland: Book 7

The Restaurant of Many Orders

By Kenji Miyazawa

(DUE OUT JANUARY 2014)

In his lifetime Kenji only ever published two books; one, a collection of poems, and the other, a collection of short stories titled The Restaurant of Many Orders. At that time the Japanese market for fantasy fiction was virtually non-existent and the book was a commercial failure. Fast forward ninety years, and it would be hard to find a Japanese person who doesn't know of Kenji or the thrilling title story of that book. Book 7 contains every one of the nine stories included in that original edition, along with the introduction and advertising for the book, written by Kenji himself.
Other titles by Little J Books

Tales from a Japanese Dreamland: Book 8

The Fart & other stories by Nankichi Niimi

(DUE OUT MARCH 2014)

Yes it's true, Nankichi Niimi really did write a story called The Fart! The story is as hilarious as it is profound. Niimi provides such a wonderful insight into the way people think and behave, that you are sure to fall in love with this story. Book 8 contains five great stories from Niimi, including those last few works that he penned when he realized that he only had a few more months to live.

Other Titles by Little J Books

Tales from a Japanese Dreamland: Book 9

Magic by Ryunosuke Akutagawa

(DUE OUT MAY 2014)

How much would you pay in order to have the power to create magic? Not sleight of hand magic, but real magic. One man seeks to uncover the secrets, but there is a Zen-like riddle that stands in his way.

Ryunosuke Akutagawa is one of Japan's best known fantasy authors from the modern era, and a champion of the short story.
Other Titles by Little J Books

Tales from a Japanese Dreamland: Book 10

The Handcar & other stories by Ryunosuke Akutagawa

(DUE OUT MAY 2014)

Ryunosuke Akutagawa is one of Japan's best known fantasy authors from the modern era, and a champion of the short story. This collection of five stories shows a lesser known sensitive side to Akutagawa. In Hina, the protagonist is a young girl trying to come to terms with her parents selling her much-loved possessions while dealing with a mean older brother, while in The Handcar, the protagonist is a young boy excited about the chance of going on a thrilling ride on the newly built railway line. In Snowy, the protagonist is a dog, while in Tobacco and the Devil we meet the devil himself. The sheer diversity and flexibility in Akutagawa's stories is one of the reasons he was so highly regarded.

