A Treasury of Japanese Folktales

“But don’t you know Urashima? Urashima, the fisherman? Isn’t
there anyone who remembers me?” he cried in despair.

“Ah,” said an old man, coming forward slowly, “I have heard
that in olden times there was a youth of that name living here.
There is a fantastic story of a certain Urashima who went riding
into the sea on the back of a tortoise. But hundreds of years have
passed since.”

Poor Urashima gave up all hope and found himself wandering
aimlessly along the seashore. Then he remembered that he was
still holding the princess’ lacquer box.

“I have nothing left but this!” he cried in despair. “I will open it,
though I have been forbidden to do so.”

So sitting down on the beach, Urashima lifted the lid. A column
of smoke rose out of the box, completely surrounding him. Before
he knew how it had happened, he had turned from a gay young
fellow into an old white-haired man.

Urashima, I am sorry to say, did not meet with a happy end.
Since he had not kept his promise to the princess and could not
find the faithful tortoise to guide him back to the palace under the
sea, he had to spend the rest of his life by himself, a very lonely old
man.











Kaguya Hime (The Luminous Princess)

IN JAPAN, you know, we like to tell tales about Ojiisan, the
honorable old man, and Obāsan, the honorable old woman. Listen
—you will hear another tale about them.

Once, near the capital of Japan where the Emperor lived, there
was a beautiful village. It had little rice paddies neatly arranged in
rows, green fields, pretty hills and many bamboo groves. And in
this village lived a kind Ojiisan and Obāsan.

Ojiisan went out every day to cut down bamboo canes. He made
baskets and crates out of them and thus earned a living. People
called him Taketori no Okina, which means, “Old Man Bamboo
Taker.”

One day he came across a specially big bamboo, and was
astonished to see a steady light shimmering through its lower
stem. It was a delicate unearthly kind of light. Full of awe he took
up his knife and carefully cut it through. Inside he found the
tiniest and daintiest maiden. At first he thought it was a doll—but
no, this sweet little creature smiled and seemed delighted to be
picked up. Ojiisan carried her back carefully on the palm of his

hand.

Obāsan was filled with joy. “Oh, the pretty little thing. Let us
bring her up ourselves.”

“Of course, my dear, of course we will.”

“Ojiisan, can you make a nice bamboo cradle for her?”

“Certainly, Obāsan; certainly, my dear.”

So Ojiisan made a dainty little cradle for the doll-like maiden.
Obāsan put her in it, covered her with a small quilt and sat beside
her all day long. It made her so happy.

From that day, whenever Ojiisan went out to work he came
across bamboos shimmering with light that were full of gold coins.

“The little maiden of ours has brought us luck,” thought Ojiisan.

He took the coins with him. He bought pretty kimonos,
beautiful soft cushions, and dainty plates and cups for her. Finally
he built her a beautiful home and had other maidens to look after
it.

The little girl grew up and Ojiisan and Obāsan could see that
she was beautiful in a very unusual way. This maiden had a look
so bright and heavenly that the old couple was sure that she was
no earthly being. Looking on her they seemed to forget their
worldly troubles—they thought of the lovely moon, and thinking of
it they named her Kaguya Hime, which means Luminous Princess.

Very soon people began talking about the princess. Before long
it became known all over that Kaguya Hime was the most
beautiful lady in Japan. All the young men around came to see her.
They would gather around Ojiisan’s beautiful house and peep
through the bamboo fence to catch a glimpse of her. But Kaguya
Hime shut herself up in her room and would not show herself at
all. The poor young men looked at each other in dismay and betook
themselves home.

Among them were three who loved Kaguya Hime very much.
They could not forget her, nor could they give up hope of her favor.
Day after day, rain or shine, they came to her door begging to be
admitted. At last, touched by their devotion, one day Ojiisan said

to Kaguya Hime:
“Listen, my beautiful princess. Come out of your room and meet

these good young men who come every day. You have your choice
and very fine young men they seem to me.”

But Kaguya Hime shook her head sadly.
“Dear kind Ojiisan, do not ask that please. Let me stay quietly
in this room with you and Obāsan.”
And all three young men had to go home with broken hearts.
At last the news of the beauty of Kaguya Hime reached the ears
of the Emperor. He sat on his thick silken cushion very still and
thoughtful, and said to his gentleman-in-waiting:

“A radiant maiden indeed! Let her be brought here to the
palace. She can serve me well.”

“Hai,” said the gentleman-in-waiting, bowing deeply, and away
he hurried in and out of the big palace rooms and corridors. He
took half of the court with him and came to the little village where
Kaguya Hime lived with Ojiisan and Obāsan. And there they all
stood in a row ready to take her back with them—but Kaguya
Hime still shook her head sadly and refused to leave her room.

When the Emperor heard of this he called his gentleman-in-
waiting again and arranged a big hunting trip. The whole court
assembled and there was much hurrying to and fro. The Emperor,
splendidly attired in a hunter’s dress with bow and arrows all
complete, rode a wonderful black horse. Everybody was dressed in
his best silken kimono and satin trousers and they thought—“How
beautiful we look! Now Kaguya Hime must come with us.”

So on their way home the whole court assembled at Ojiisan’s
house.

The Emperor was received with great respect. He was
immediately dazzled by Kaguya Hime’s beauty. But as soon as he
stretched out his hand toward her, her figure grew faint, and she
slowly faded away like a shadow until it was almost impossible to
see her.

The Emperor saw at once that she was no ordinary being and
said: “Dear little princess, I will not try to take you away, but
please let me see you once more as you were.”

So Kaguya Hime came back to life in a most delightful way. As
she smiled her face was radiant with light and everything around
her glowed.

The Emperor was so charmed that tears came into his eyes, but
remembering his promise he turned away quickly and returned to
his palace.

However he could not forget the beautiful princess. He became
thoughtful and wrote many Japanese poems to her, and was
delighted with her replies.

Years went by. Then one spring, when the cherry blossoms were
beginning to fall, Kaguya Hime could no longer remain in her
room. On warm fragrant nights she would roll back her paper
sliding doors and, seeing the big bright moon, would sink deep into
silent thought. As the days wore on, Kaguya Hime was continually
sad and shed many tears. Ojiisan and Obāsan were very anxious
about her and spent themselves trying to comfort her, but she

would only raise her lovely tear-stained face and say: “I am a
puzzle to myself. I feel so depressed when I look at the moon that I
do not know what to do. I feel that very soon when it is quite round
I shall have to bid you farewell—and take leave of all whom I love
so dearly in this world.”

“Oh no, no!” said Ojiisan, “No such thing will happen to my
beautiful Princess. How can you think of it, for you are safe and far
from all evil in this house we have built for you.”

“It is not of any evil that I am thinking, dear Ojiisan. Listen,
very soon the spirits of the moon will descend and take me far
away from you.”

“Oh no, no! We will guard you well. No harm will come to you
here.”

But the Princess stretched out her arms and, embracing Ojiisan
and Obāsan, wept sorrowfully.

Ojiisan then told the Emperor, who, unable to bear the thought
of losing so beautiful a princess, dispatched a thousand of his men
with bows and arrows. The strong husky fellows stood high up on
the bamboo walls around the Princess’ home, and each had a ready
arrow.

On the 15th of the 8th month of the year, the moon was at its
brightest and roundest. Its dazzling loveliness streamed in brightly
through the paper doors but could not find its way anywhere near
Kaguya Hime. Ojiisan and Obāsan had locked her in the room
furthest away from any opening. All the rooms around her were
closed tightly.

When midnight came, the heavens suddenly grew so bright that
it was like daytime. Everybody could see one another. They could
even see the hair that grew on the soldiers’ bare legs as they stood
bewildered high up on the bamboo walls. And, as they stood on
guard, there came from above rows and rows of beautiful angels
dressed in dazzling robes. The soldiers tried to fix their arrows but
the blazing light blinded them and they could only stand like
hundreds of old scarecrows. The locked doors opened of themselves

until the light streamed into Kaguya Hime’s room.

There she stood as lovely as ever, but it seemed that now her
heart was aglow with the light and that her mind had already
taken its flight to heaven.

“Do not grieve, Ojiisan and Obāsan,” she said gently, pushing
them aside.

Some of the angels drew nearer with a black lacquered chariot
drawn by a white winged horse. It was very beautiful to behold.
Then they brought the Princess her white heavenly robe which she
was to wear in order to forget all earthly things, and also the box
containing the medicine of everlasting life.

But the princess was not unmindful of the Emperor who had
always been so kind to her.

She took up her writing brush and paper and wrote a beautiful
poem and laid it on her desk. It was written from top to bottom and
from right to left in true Japanese style.

It said—“Even as I am about to be clothed in heavenly robes I
am thinking of you.”

This she left for the Emperor, together with the box containing
the medicine of everlasting life.

The sky glowed with lovely colors. There could be nothing more
beautiful. The princess slipped into her heavenly gown and stepped
into the chariot that was waiting for her. And she floated away
with a heart filled with joy and peace. All the lovely angels took
wing beside her as the brilliance and beauty she had radiated
faded away. There remained only her home and belongings and the
riches which Ojiisan and Obāsan were to enjoy as long as they
lived.

For many years the Emperor remembered Kaguya Hime. The
more he looked at her last poem the sweeter it seemed to him, and
he often sat still forgetting everything else. He looked long at the
box containing the medicine of everlasting life but would not open
it.

One day he called his gentleman-in-waiting and said—“Without
Kaguya Hime what would everlasting life be to me. Go to the
highest mountain in Japan and burn it with the poem.”

So many of his servants rode as fast as they could until they
reached the top of Mt. Fuji, and there they burned the poem and
the box, which smoked for a long time. Only after this had been
done was the Emperor able to shake off his sadness and attend to
his duties again.

















Momotarō (The Peach Boy)

LONG, LONG AGO, there lived a good old man and a good old woman.

They lived cosily in a little house with a thatched roof. This
house stood at the foot of a pleasant green mountain, and near it a
clean rippling stream wound its way. The two old people were
happy together, but they longed for a child and this was their one
great wish.

One day the old man Ojiisan went up the hills to cut wood, and
the old woman Obāsan took her wash down to the stream.

It was a fine day and Obāsan hummed a tune in a quavering
voice as she rinsed the clothes.

Jabu—jabu—jabu—sounded the clear lapping water. But
presently, above this sound, Obāsan heard another.

It seemed to say, “Donbura kokko sukkokko.”

Can you say it? Japanese children like to repeat it, even though
the words have no meaning.

“Donbura kokko sukkokko.

Donbura kokko sukkokko.”

When Obāsan heard the sound, she looked up and, there in the
distance, she saw a big rosy red peach floating on the stream. It
came drifting toward her on the running water, and the nearer it
came the louder she heard:

“Donbura kokko sukkokko.

Donbura kokko sukkokko.”

When the peach was nearly in front of her, Obāsan stretched
out her hands and placed it with a flop on top of her wash. My!
What a magnificent juicy peach it looked and goodness, how heavy
it was! Obāsan could hardly lift it, but she was beaming with joy
for she thought, “Now I have a wonderful present for Ojiisan. How

pleased he will be! How delicious he will find it after his hard day’s
work!”

So Obāsan carried the peach home carefully. She placed it on a
chopping board. By it she laid a knife and waited for Ojiisan.

Ojiisan came home mopping his brow and looking very hot and
thirsty.

“Tadaima,” he said, which means, “I’ve just returned.”
Obāsan, looking very pleased, tugged him by the sleeve and
said, “See what I have for you.”
“My, what a big peach that is, and how good it looks!” exclaimed
Ojiisan. “How clever of you, Obāsan, to think of it. Just the very
thing for me now.”

Obāsan told him how it came floating toward her down the
stream. The two decided to eat it at once.

Ojiisan tucked up the sleeve of his kimono and took the knife to
cut it open.

As soon as he had touched the top of it, there was a great big
pop. Ojiisan and Obāsan nearly fell back with surprise, for the big
peach flew open of itself and there inside they saw the sweetest,
chubbiest little baby boy.

The little baby had soft glossy hair and round laughing brown
eyes. As he was very fat, there were dimples at his elbows and
rings round his wrists. All the time he gurgled and smiled and
kicked out his legs at Ojiisan and Obāsan.

Ojiisan and Obāsan looked at each other. They looked at the
darling little baby and their hearts were so full of delight they
could scarcely keep from shedding tears of joy.

From that day, the little house was full of baby laughter and
happiness.

They named the boy Momotarō, which means Peach Boy. They
brought him up with great care and love. The boy was always
happy and grew up very sturdy and strong.

Momotarō was not only strong, but good tempered and very
gentle and kind toward Ojiisan and Obāsan. He did their work for
them and would never let Obāsan carry anything heavy. He liked
running errands and helping people. Everyone loved him.

Years passed, and Momotarō grew up to be a big, strong boy.
One day he told his foster parents that he wanted to set out on an
expedition to Onigashima.

Now in Onigashima, which means Ogres’ Island, there lived
hundreds of horrible demons. They had horns on their heads and
their skin was colored red and blue and green. They plundered
villages and killed innocent people. They carried off pretty girls to
serve them. Every day they ate and ate their stolen goods and
drank cup after cup of rice wine. At night, their horrible laughter
filled the air.

When Ojiisan and Obāsan heard Momotarō’s decision they were
alarmed for the safety of their dear boy. But Momotarō was very
firm and they could not make him change his mind.

“Please do not worry, dear Ojiisan and Obāsan. I will come back
—there is no cause for fear. I cannot bear to think of all the poor
people trembling on account of those wicked demons.”

So Obāsan made kibi dumplings, which were Momotarō’s
favorite dish. She put them in a big bag for him to carry and
dressed him in his best suit.

Ojiisan made him a lovely flag and on it he wrote “Nippon ichi”
which means “The Strongest in Japan.” He also gave Momotarō his
precious old sword and, with this as his only weapon, Momotarō
started out.

Ojiisan and Obāsan stood at their little gate and watched him
as he went away, remaining there for a long, long while. It was
difficult for them to realize that he had left them.

When Momotarō had gone a short way he met a faithful looking
dog.

“Wan, wan, wan,” cried the dog. “I know you are Momotarō.
Where are you going?”

“I’m going to punish the demons in Onigashima.”

“What are you carrying there by your side?”

“Ah, these are the best kibi dumplings in Japan.”

“Give me one, Momotarō. I will be your follower.”

Momotarō, who loved animals, gave the dog a dumpling and the
dog followed him.

When he had gone a short way further he met a nimble looking
monkey.

“Kya, kya, kya,” cried the monkey. “I know you are Momotarō.
Where are you going?”

“I’m going to punish the demons in Onigashima.”

“What are you carrying there by your side?”

“These are the best kibi dumplings in Japan.”
“Give me one, Momotarō. I will be your follower.”
Momotarō gave the monkey a dumpling, and the monkey
followed him.
Momotarō went on again. This time he met a friendly pheasant.
“Ken, ken, ken,” cried the pheasant “Where are you going,
Momotarō?”
“I’m going to punish the demons in Onigashima.”
“What are you carrying there by your side?”
“These are the best kibi dumplings in Japan.”
“Give me one, Momotarō. I will be your follower.”
Momotarō gave a dumpling to the pheasant and the pheasant
followed him.
Momotarō and his followers crossed deep valleys and climbed
steep hills.

At last they came to the sea, and far in the distance they saw
the rugged outline of Onigashima.

Now the demons were enjoying themselves in their wicked
ways. Many were drinking rice wine, some were sharpening their
swords, some were planning to plunder.

Momotarō prepared to row over in a boat and told the clever
pheasant to fly across and tell the demons he had come. So the
pheasant saluted his master, spread out his wings, and was soon a
speck in the sky.

Presently the pheasant returned.

“Master, master! They say they are ready. But they do not know
who you are. Be quick master!”

At once Momotarō stepped into his boat. The dog and monkey

took turns rowing, and in a short time they had landed.
The pheasant, swooping down, pecked at the guard. The nimble

monkey climbed over the wall and opened the big iron gates, and
Momotarō and the dog rushed in.

Red and blue and green demons gave hideous growls, and with
a great noise they rushed out to fight Momotarō.

Now the dog darted in and out of their legs and bit as many as
he could. The monkey jumped high and low and scratched all over.
The pheasant pecked their heads from above. Added to this,
Momotarō with his good sword cut left and right.

But there were hundreds of these demons, and they all had
sharp weapons. It was hard for Momotarō and his faithful
followers.

Still the brave lad fought on. He fought further and further in,
until he found the horned hairy red demon chieftain standing
ready at the far end of the hall. He lurched forward toward
Momotarō, and a terrible fight took place between the two.

Many a time Momotarō thought he was done for. But no—he
would not give way. Finally with all of his strength, the plucky boy
clenched his sword high above him and brought it down on the
demon, who toppled over with a great crash.



Quick as a flash Momotarō was astride him, holding him fast to
the ground.

“Behold your chief!” he shouted in triumph.

Many of the demons close by looked up horrified, cowards that
they were. Soon all of them saw their chief and they began to
shiver and shake. They fell on their knees and bowed deeply and
begged for mercy. They brought gold and silver and many kinds of
treasure to Momotarō, and pleaded for pardon. They promised they
would never do anything wicked again.

So Momotarō took a cartload of treasures and returned home.

The dog drew the cart—the monkey pushed it—and the
pheasant pulled it by a rope.

Momotarō walked beside it with the lovely flag fluttering in the
air. “The Strongest Boy in Japan” was the Peach Boy.

Grownups and children alike sing songs about Momotarō in
Japan. This is how one goes....















Kachi Kachi Yama (The Kachi Kachi

Mountain)

OVER HERE IN JAPAN, the badger is a funny little creature with a big
tummy. He dances in the moonlight, but he can also be very mean
and wicked and can change himself into all kinds of shapes.

Tanuki, the mean badger, ate Ojiisan’s chickens and destroyed
the good vegetables in his garden. When Ojiisan set a trap and
caught him, he was not sorry at all. Oh no, there he hung from the
eaves of the little farm house, wracking his brains as to how he
could deceive Obāsan and escape her.

Simple old Obāsan was very busy this morning. There was the
wheat to be pounded, and the washing and the sewing and the
cooking to look after.

First of all, Obāsan brought out her wooden mortar and started
pounding the wheat. As she pounded she thought of the meal she’d
cook for Ojiisan. It would be nice to be able to get hot badger soup
for him, but how on earth with all this work on her hands! She
looked up and caught Tanuki’s cunning little eyes staring at her.

“Dear Obāsan,” said Tanuki, “You are so busy this morning. I
know you won’t be in time to finish everything before Ojiisan
comes home. How about letting me help you for a while? You need
not untie me. Just loosen the rope.”

“What a silly badger,” thought Obāsan. “He can’t even guess
that he’s going to be cooked. Supposing I did let him work. It surely
will save my creaking old bones.”

So Obāsan stepped up on the large stone by the engawa, the
long veranda. She loosened the rope around the badger’s feet.

Scarcely had she done this when the cunning fellow sprang
down on his four feet, and horror of horrors, snatching the pounder
from the amazed Obāsan, hit her hard on the head and killed her!

Now, what else do you think?
Just killing Obāsan was not enough. He cut her up and made a
soup out of her. Then he changed himself into Obāsan, except for
his tail which stuck out behind.
Soon Ojiisan was home from the fields. “Okaeri nasai. Welcome
back,” smiled badger Obāsan. “You really must eat your meal
before it gets cold. I made it all by myself and had quite a busy
time.”

Ojiisan sat down with a thump on his favorite cushion, eagerly
rubbing his hands for he was feeling hungry.

“There is lots of badger soup,” said Obāsan. She sidled around
the table being very careful not to show her tail. But Ojiisan
caught sight of it. Quick as a flash he jumped up, but Tanuki was

quicker.
He flew out the back way crying—“Bāsan shinda! Bāsan shinda!

Your old woman’s dead.”
And suddenly Ojiisan knew everything.
Oh, how the poor man moaned with helpless anger! The tears

trickled down his cheeks. He wept so bitterly and sorrowfully that
a little rabbit passing by heard him and peeped in.

“How you grieve, dear Ojiisan. What is the matter?”
“Alas,” was his answer, “the wicked badger has killed my wife
and escaped me.”

And at the sad recollection the tears overflowed again.

“Poor people,” sighed the kind-hearted rabbit. “There is no one
stronger than I around here. And what can I do, a weak creature
like me?”

But Ojiisan said indeed he wanted to leave everything to Usagi,
the gentle rabbit, for his heart was so full of grief he felt too weak
to do anything.

Now the badger had hurried back to his evil smelling hole, and
from it he did not stir for days. By that time he was quite hungry
and was on the point of venturing out to Ojiisan’s vegetable garden
again.

Just in time, the rabbit stole by with a scythe in his hand, and
began cutting down sticks and making bundles of them. After that,
he took out some nice-looking chestnuts and ate them with a great
deal of relish and noise.

It sounded—bari, bari, bari, bari—and the badger who was very
hungry, stuck his head out and saw harmless-looking Usagi
chewing and enjoying himself.

“Usagi-san, my friend, what are you eating?”

“Chestnuts.”

“Won’t you give me some?”

“I will, if you carry half of this load of sticks over the hills
yonder.”

Tanuki crept out and, taking the load of sticks on his back as
country folk do, started walking in a hurry.

“Follow me, Usagi-san,” he cried in a guilty fashion. “I must be
back in my hole as soon as possible.”

After a while Tanuki became fidgety and said, “Usagi-san, give
me the chestnuts to eat now.”

“I will later. Carry the sticks over the hills first.”

So Tanuki, anxious for the chestnuts, hastened on.

“Usagi-san, give me the chestnuts to eat now.”

“I will later on. There’s still another hill in front.”

When they came to the top of the second hill, Usagi brought out
his flints and struck them to start a fire.

Kachi, Kachi, Kachi!

“Usagi-san,” said the startled Tanuki, “what is that noise?”

“Oh, have no fear of that. This hill is called Kachi Kachi Yama.”

Next, the sticks on Tanuki’s back began to burn.

Bō—bō—bō!

“Usagi-san! What is that noise?”

“Oh, have no fear of that. The last hill we climbed is called Bō
Bō Yama.”

“Is that so!” panted Tanuki. He was almost running, for all the
while his back became hotter and hotter. He ran and ran, trying to
get away for he was very frightened.

“Help! Help! I’m burning!”

What terror and pain he felt!

And the rabbit raised his voice too and cried, “Fire! Fire! Help!
Help!” But no one came, for Usagi had taken care to bring Tanuki
to a hill where nobody lived.

Tanuki rolled all over, yelling with pain and nearly suffocating
with the smoke, and by the time the fire was out, his back hurt
terribly.

So he was unable to stir from his hole for another few days,
when again Usagi hopped around to him.

“I did feel sorry for you the other day,” he said looking very
innocent. “But I’ve brought you some good medicine.”

Tanuki who was still aching all over said, “What a good idea. I
cannot reach my back. You rub it in for me.”

Now the medicine was none other than squashed beans mixed
with red pepper, which is the worst thing for burns.

“Itai, itai! It hurts! It hurts!” moaned Tanuki, and the tears
poured down his ugly face.

“The more it hurts the better for you,” cried Usagi, meaning it.
“You’ll be weak for days but it can’t be helped.” And away he went,
laughing inside.

Well, the next week Usagi thought he’d see Tanuki again.

“What is it this time?” grunted Tanuki, for he had scarcely
recovered and felt weak. He thought that Usagi was a silly,
harmless creature and that his awful medicine had certainly done
him no good.

Usagi wriggled his pink nose and sniffled the air.

“It’s lovely outside today. Look at the green grass. It stretches a
long way on, as far as the other side of the bank where the sea is. It
would feel delicious to float on the water today.”

“That sounds interesting and we might be able to catch fish to
eat.”

The thought was so good that, weak as he was, Tanuki

clambered out of his hole and together they found their way to the
beach.

Now Usagi had made two boats, one of wood and the other of
earth. The earthen boat was well polished and shiny. This was the
one Usagi offered Tanuki, while he took the roughly hewn wooden
one.

“I say, Tanuki,” cried Usagi, “We’ll race to the open sea and fish
there.”

So off they started, and the faster Usagi went in his light
wooden boat, the harder Tanuki rowed his, trying to overtake him.

But of course, there is no such thing as an earthen boat floating
for long. Very soon it began to crumble.

“Oh! Oh! Oh! My boat is breaking up!” screamed Tanuki.

But Usagi stood up in his boat and cried aloud:

“Down you go to the bottom of the sea, for you have caused
harm to many. You killed Obāsan and deceived Ojiisan! Besides all
that you are still plotting evil!”

Then, terror-stricken, Tanuki jumped up and down and was
beside himself with fear and anger, but the boat sank rapidly and
he was left to drown miserably.

Usagi rowed back to Ojiisan’s house and told him, and Ojiisan,
who still sat rigid and weary, stretched his hand out and stroked
Usagi’s soft white head and ears.

“Thank Heavens!” he sighed. “The meek can be strong too. I will
now live peacefully.”

This is how Tanuki was punished for his wickedness, and
thenceforward Usagi lived with Ojiisan to keep him company in his
loneliness. For all I know, they got on very well together.