I pressed my hands together and thanked her. “That’s very kind of you.”
“Your staying here,” she said, “must have been determined by a former life. Don’t hesitate to ask for what you need.”
My friend, she was a most hospitable woman.
12
“Please follow me.” With the rice pot in her hand, the woman tucked a small towel into her narrow sash. Her rich, lovely hair was tied up in a bun and held in place with a comb and an ornamental hairpin. I noticed she had a beautiful figure.
I quickly removed my sandals and put on the old clogs. When I stood up from the veranda and looked around, there was Mr. Idiot still staring in my direction and babbling some sort of nonsense. “Sister, dis, dis.” He slowly lifted his hand and touched his tousled hair. “Monk. Monk?”
A smile formed on the woman’s face. She gave him quick nods.
The young man said, “Mmm,” then grew limp and started playing with his navel again.
Out of sympathy for the two, I didn’t raise my head but merely stole a glance at the woman. She didn’t seem to be bothered at all. Just as I was about to follow her, an old man appeared from behind a hydrangea bush.
He had come around from the back. A carved ivory netsuke dangled from a long pouch string tied around his waist. Holding a pipe in his teeth, he came up to the woman and stopped. “Well, if it isn’t a monk.”
The woman looked over her shoulder at the man. “May I ask how it went?”
“Oh, you know. He’s one stupid jackass, all right. Nobody but a fox could ever ride that horse. But that’s where I come in. I’ll do my best to get a fair price. A good deal should fix you up for two or three months.”
“That would be nice.”
“So where you headed?”
“Down to the water.”
“Don’t go falling in with the young monk now. I’ll be on the lookout here.” He leaned over and sat down on the veranda.
“Listen to him talk.” She looked at me and smiled.
“Perhaps I should go by myself.” I stepped to the side and the old man laughed.
“Hurry up and get going, you two.”
“We’ve already had two visitors today,” she said to the old man. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll have another. If somebody should come while Jirō’s here alone, they won’t know what to do. Maybe you could stay and make yourself comfortable until we get back.”
“Sure.” The man moved over to the idiot and whacked him on the back with his enormous fist. The idiot looked as if he might cry but then grinned.
Horrified, I turned away. The woman didn’t seem to be bothered by it at all.
The man laughed. “While you’re away, I’m going to steal this husband of yours.”
“Good for you,” she said and turned to me. “Well then. Shall we go?”
I had the feeling that the old man was watching us from behind as I followed the woman along a wall leading away from the hydrangeas. We reached what seemed to be the back gate. To the left was a horse stable. I could hear the sound of a horse kicking at the walls. It was already starting to get dark.
“We’ll take this path down. It’s not slippery, but it is steep. Please be careful.”
13
A grove of extremely tall, slender pine trees, their trunks clear of branches for about fifteen or twenty feet from the ground, marked the path that we were apparently going to take down to the river. As we passed through the trees, I spotted something white in the treetops far above. It was the thirteenth night of the new month, and though it was the same moon I had always seen, tonight it made me realize how far from the world of human habitation I had come.
The woman, who had been walking ahead of me, disappeared. When I looked down the hill, holding onto one of the trees, I spotted her below.
She looked up at me. “It gets a lot steeper here so please be careful. Maybe I shouldn’t have given you those clogs. Would you like my sandals?”
She obviously thought I was lagging behind because of the steepness of the path, but I was more than ready to tumble down the slope to get that leech filth off my body.
“I’ll come down barefoot if I have to,” I said. “I’m fine. Sorry to make you worry, Miss.”
“Miss?” She raised her voice slightly and laughed. It was a charming sound. “That’s what I heard the man call you. But maybe you’re married?”
“Either way, I’m old enough to be your aunt. Now, come. Quickly. I’d give you my sandals, but you might step on a thorn. They’re soaking wet, anyway. You wouldn’t like the way they felt on your feet.” She turned away and quickly lifted the hem of her kimono. I could see her white ankles in the darkness. As she walked ahead, they disappeared like the frost at dawn.
We were making good progress down the hill when a toad sluggishly emerged from a clump of grass on the wayside.
“Disgusting!” She lifted her heels and jumped to the side. “Can’t you see I have a guest? Let go of my feet. Back to your bugs!” She turned to me. “Come right along. Don’t pay attention to him. In a place like this, even the animals want attention.” She turned back to the toad. “To think I’d be flattered to know you. Go away!”
The toad slowly moved back into the grass, and the woman started ahead.
“You’ll have to climb up here. The ground’s too soft.” In the grass appeared the trunk of a tree, round and huge. I got up on it and had no trouble walking, even in my clogs. As soon as I had reached the end, the sound of rushing water was in my ears, although the river was still a distance away.
When I looked up, I could no longer see the pine trees. The moon of the thirteenth night was low on the horizon, nearly half-covered by the mountain. Yet it was so brilliant I thought I could reach out and touch it, even though I knew its height in the heavens was immeasurable.
“It’s this way.” She was waiting for me just a bit farther down the slope. There were boulders all around and pools created by the water flowing over them. The stream was about six feet across. As I approached it, the flowing water was surprisingly quiet, and its beauty was that of jewels broken from their string and being washed away. From farther downstream came the terrifying echo of the water crashing against other boulders.
On the opposite bank rose another mountain. Its peak was hidden in the darkness, but its lower reaches were illuminated by the moonlight spilling over the crest of the mountain across the way. I could see boulders of various sizes and shapes—some like spiral seashells, others angular and truncated, and still others resembling spears or balls. They continued as far as the eye could see, forming a small hill at the water’s edge.
14
“We’re lucky the water’s high today. We can bathe up here without going down to the main stream.” She dipped her snow white feet into the water that covered the top of a boulder.
The bank on our side was much steeper than the other and tight against the river. We were apparently standing in a small, boulder-filled cove. It was impossible to see either directly upstream or downstream, but I could make out some water winding tortuously up the rock-strewn slope across from us. The stream gradually grew narrower, each bend bathed in moonlight so its water gleamed like plates of silver armor. Closer to where we stood, its waves fluttered white like a shuttle being taken up at the loom.
“What a beautiful stream.”
“It is. This river begins at a waterfall. People who travel through these mountains say they can hear a sound like the wind blowing. I don’t suppose you heard something along the way?”
I had indeed, just before I entered the leech-filled forest. “You mean that wasn’t the wind in the trees?”
“That’s what everyone thinks. But if you take a side road from where you were and go about seven miles, you come to a large waterfall. People say it’s the largest in Japan. Not even one in ten has ever made it that far, though. The road is steep. So, as I was saying, this river flows down from there.
“There was a horrible flood about thirteen year
s ago,” she continued. “Even these high places were covered with water, and the village in the foothills was swept away—mountains, houses, everything was leveled. There used to be twenty homes here at Kaminohora. But now they’re gone. This stream was created then. See those boulders up there? The flood brought them.”
Before I realized it, the woman had finished washing the rice. As she stood and arched her back, I caught a glimpse of the outlines of her breasts, showing at the loosened collar of her kimono. She gazed dreamily at the mountain, her lips pressed together. I could see a mass of moonlit rocks that the flood had deposited halfway up the mountainside.
“Even now just thinking about it frightens me,” I said as I stooped over and began washing my arms.
It was then that she said, “If you insist on such good manners, your robes will get wet. That’s not going to feel very good. Why not take them off ? I’ll scrub your back for you.”
“I wouldn’t—”
“Why not? Look how your sleeve is getting in the water.” She suddenly reached from behind and put her hand on my sash. I squirmed, but she kept going until I was completely naked.
My master was a strict man, and as one whose calling it is to recite the holy sutras, I had never taken off my clothes, not even the sleeves of my robes. But now I was standing naked in front of this woman, feeling like a snail without a shell. I was too embarrassed even to talk, let alone run away. While she tossed my clothes onto a nearby branch, I hunched my back and stood with my knees together.
“I’ll put your clothes right here. Now. Your back. Hold still. I’m going to be nice to you because you called me ‘Miss.’ Now don’t be naughty.” She pulled up one of her sleeves and held it between her teeth to keep it out of the way.
Without further ado, she placed her arm on my back. It was as smooth and lustrous as a jewel. For a moment, she only looked. “Oh, my.”
“Is something wrong?”
“These bruises all over your back.”
“That’s what I was saying. I had a terrible time in the woods.” Just remembering the leeches made me shudder.
15
She looked surprised. “So you were in the forest. How awful! I’ve heard travelers talk about leeches falling from the trees. You must have missed the detour and gone right through their nesting grounds. You’re lucky to still be alive. Not even horses and cows make it. It must really itch.”
“It only hurts now.”
“Then I shouldn’t be using this cloth. It’ll hurt your skin.” She touched me gently with her hands.
She poured water over my body and stroked my shoulders, back, sides, and buttocks. You would think the cold river water would have chilled me to the bone, but it didn’t. True, it was a hot time of the year, but even so. Perhaps it was because my blood was aroused. Or maybe it was the warmth of her hand. Anyway, the water felt perfect on my skin! Of course, they say that water of good quality is always soothing.
But what an indescribable feeling! I wasn’t sleepy, but I began to feel drowsy. And as the pain from my wounds ebbed away, I gradually lost my senses, as if the woman’s body, so close to mine, had enveloped me in the petals of its blossom.
She seemed too delicate for someone living in the mountains. Even in the capital you don’t see many women as beautiful. As she rubbed my back, I could hear her trying to stifle the sounds of her breathing. I knew I should ask her to stop, but I became lost in the bliss of the moment. Was it the spirit of the deep mountains that made me allow her to continue? Or was it her fragrance? I smelled something wonderful. Perhaps it was the woman’s breath coming from behind me.
Here Monk Shūchō paused. “Young man, since the lamp’s over there by you, I wonder if you could turn up the wick a bit. This isn’t the kind of story to be telling in the dark. I’m warning you, now. I’m going to tell it just as it happened.”
The monk’s outline showed darkly beside me. As soon as I fixed the lantern, he smiled and continued his story.
Yes, it was like a dream. I felt as if I were being softly enveloped in that warm flower with its strange, wonderful fragrance—my feet, legs, hands, shoulders, neck, all the way up to my head. When the blossom finally swallowed me completely, I started up and collapsed on the boulder with my legs out in front of me. Immediately, the woman’s arms reached around me from behind.
“Can you tell how hot I am? It’s this unbearable heat. Just doing this has made me sweat.”
When she said that, I took her hand off my chest. I broke away from her embrace and stood up straight as a stick. “Excuse me.”
“Not at all. No one’s looking,” she said coolly. That was when I noticed she had taken off her clothes. When, I don’t know. But there she was, her body softly shining like glossy silk.
Imagine my surprise.
“I suffer from the heat because I’m a little overweight. It’s embarrassing,” she said. “When it gets hot like this, I come to the river two or three times a day. If I didn’t have this water, I don’t know what would do. Here. Take this washcloth.” She handed me a wrung-out towel. “Dry your legs.”
Before I knew what was happening, she had wiped my body dry.
“Ha, ha.” The monk laughed, seeming a bit embarrassed. “I’m afraid this is quite a story I’m telling you.”
16
With her clothes off, she looked very different. Her figure was voluptuous and full.
“I had some business to take care of in the shed back there,” she said, “and now I’ve got horse’s breath all over me. This is a good chance to wash up a bit.” She spoke as if confiding in a brother or sister.
She raised one hand to hold back her hair and wiped under her arm with the other. As she stood and wrung out the towel with both hands, her snowy skin looked as if it had been purified by this miracle-working water. The flowing perspiration of such a woman could only be light crimson in color, the shade of mountain flowers.
She began combing her hair. “I’m really being a tomboy. What if I fell into the river? What would the people downstream think?”
“That you were a white peach blossom.” I said what came to my mind. Our eyes met.
She smiled as if pleased by my words. At that moment, she seemed seven or eight years younger, looking down at the water with an innocent shyness. Her figure, bathed in the moonlight and enveloped in the evening mist, shimmered translucent blue before a huge, smooth rock moistened black by the spray from the opposite bank.
It had grown dark, and I had trouble seeing clearly. But there must have been a cave somewhere nearby, for just then a number of bats, creatures as large as birds, began dancing over our heads.
“Stop that. Can’t you see I have a guest?” the woman suddenly cried out and shuddered.
“Is something wrong?” I asked calmly. I had put my clothes back on.
“No,” she said as if embarrassed and quickly turned away.
Just then a small, gray animal the size of a puppy came running toward us. Before I could shout out, it jumped from the cliff, sailed through the air, and landed on her back. With the animal hugging her like that, she seemed to vanish from the waist up.
“You beast! Can’t you see my guest?” Now there was anger in her voice. “What insolence!” When the animal peered up at her, she struck it squarely on the head. It let out a shriek, jumped backward into the air, and dangled by its long arm from the branch where she had hung my clothes. Then it did a somersault, flipped itself on top of the branch, and scampered up the tree. A monkey! The animal jumped from branch to branch, then climbed to the very top of the tall tree, sharing the treetops with the moon that had risen high in the sky and was showing through the leaves.
The woman seemed to be in a pout because of the monkey’s misbehavior or, rather, because of the pranks of the toad, the bats, and the monkey. The way her mood soured reminded me of young mothers who get upset when their children misbehave.
As she put her clothes back on, she looked angry. I asked no questions. I hid in the bac
kground and tried to stay out of the way.
17
She was gentle yet strong, lighthearted yet not without a degree of firmness. She had a friendly disposition. but her dignity was unshakable, and her confident manner gave me the impression that she was a woman who could handle any situation. Nothing good could come of getting in her way if she were angry. I knew that if I were unfortunate enough to get on her wrong side, I would be as helpless as a monkey fallen from its tree. With fear and trembling, I timidly kept my distance. But as it turned out, things weren’t as bad as all that.
“You must have found it odd,” she said, smiling good-naturedly, as if recalling the scene. “There’s not much I can do about it.”
Suddenly she seemed as cheerful as before. She quickly tied her sash. “Well, shall we go back?” She tucked the rice pot under her arm, put on her sandals, and quickly started up the cliff. “Give me your hand.”
“No. I think I know the way now.” I thought I was prepared for the ascent; but once we started the climb, it was a lot farther to the top than I had expected.
Eventually we crossed over the same log. In the grass, logs have an amazing resemblance to serpents, especially pine trees with their scalelike bark. With the cliff towering above us, it seemed as though the fallen tree was indeed a slithering snake. Judging from its girth, the serpent’s head would be somewhere in the grass on one side of the path and its tail on the other. There it was, its contours brightly lit by the moonlight. Remembering the road that had brought me here, I felt my knees begin to quiver.
The woman was good enough to keep looking back to check on me. “Don’t look down when you cross over. Right there in the middle, it’s a long way to the bottom. You wouldn’t want to get dizzy.”
“No, of course not.”
I couldn’t stand there forever, so I laughed at my timidity and jumped up on the log. Someone had cut notches into it for traction, and as long as I was careful I should have been able to walk on it, even with my clogs on. Nevertheless, because it was so like the back of a boa—unsteady, soft, and slithery beneath me—I shouted out in fear and fell, straddling the log.
The Columbia Anthology of Modern Japanese Literature: From Restoration to Occupation, 1868-1945: vol. 1 (Modern Asian Literature Series) Page 14
