Otogizoshi: The Fairy Tale Book of Dazai Osamu

“That’s not all you thought,” the tortoise interrupts. “You thought Her Highness ordered the fish to do this to give a proper welcome to the young master of-”

“See here! I did not!” Urashima protests, flustered and blushing. “Heaven knows I’m not quite so vain as all that! But, I mean, you’re the one who told me that nonsense about this being the floor of the corridor, so I just, that is, I merely thought, well, I mean, the poor fish…”

“We don’t need floors down here. I was trying to explain the fish by way of an analogy you’d be able to grasp. It seemed to me that in terms of a house on land, this would be more or less equivalent to a corridor. I wasn’t just spouting nonsense. You think it hurts the fish? Here at the true bottom of the sea you weigh about as much as a sheet of paper. Haven’t you noticed how light and buoyant you feel?”

Now that it’s brought to Urashima’s attention, he does feel rather light on his feet. But he’s also acutely conscious of having been the target of a heavy stream of abuse from the tortoise, and resentment has begun to get the better of him.

“I no longer know what to believe, and it’s getting harder and harder to care. This is exactly what I find so distasteful about adventure. You have no way of knowing whether you’re being deceived. All you can do is trust in your guide, and if he tells you that this is that, then that’s that. There’s altogether too much potential for deception in this adventure business. And besides,” he adds, lashing out somewhat indiscriminately now, “what’s all this about a harp? I don’t hear any bloody harp!”

The tortoise maintains his composure.

“You’re used to surface life, where everything’s on a single plane. You’re still thinking north-south-east-west, but here, of course, we have two extra directions-up and down. You’ve been searching for Princess Oto all this time with your eyes straight ahead. An understandable error, I suppose, but why don’t you look up above you? Or down below? You see, everything in the Dragon Palace is adrift. The palace gate, the fish bridge, even the pearl mountains are all shifting and moving somewhat. You don’t notice because you’re moving along with them-up, down, left, right. You probably think we’ve progressed quite some distance since we started walking, but the fact is that we’re still in approximately the same place. We may even have slid backwards a bit. The way the tide is right now, it’s pulling us back at a pretty good clip. We’ve risen too-about a hundred fathoms, I’d say.

“But let’s keep going, shall we? You’ll notice that the fish have started thinning out a bit. Be careful you don’t step in a hole. Not that it would be all that dangerous-you’re not going to go hurtling toward the ocean floor because, as I said, you weigh very little now. And this is a bridge to nowhere, anyway. It ends just ahead, but there’s nothing on the other side. Look down below you, though. Hey, you jellyfish! Move aside there! The young master’s here to see Her Highness! These fellows form a sort of canopy over the castle proper, you see. A floating canopy of jellyfish-I should think a refined poetic sort like you would appreciate that.”

The jellyfish silently part and move to either side, and now the faint plinking of a harp can be heard issuing from somewhere below. The sound is similar to that of the Japanese koto, yet not as piercing. It’s a softer, more ethereal sound, with tones that seem to linger and reverberate endlessly. But what is the song? “Chrysanthemum Dew”? “The Gossamer Gown”? “Sunset”? “Ghosts”? “River of Dreams”? No, it isn’t quite like any of these. The melody possesses a fragile beauty and insubstantiality that not even the genteel and poetic Urashima can define, and it resonates with a profound and noble solitude the like of which he’s never heard on land.

“What a marvelous tune. What is it called?”

The tortoise listens for a moment.

“Seitei,” he says.

“Seitei?”

“Sei-‘Divine.’ Tei-‘Resignation.’”

“‘Divine Resignation’…”

As Urashima repeats the title under his breath, he receives for the first time an intimation that life in the Dragon Palace, here at the bottom of the sea, is embued with nobility of a much higher sort than any he’s ever imagined. No wonder the tortoise spoke of breaking out in a cold sweat to hear him babble about destiny and culture and the time-honored tradition of gentlemanly refinement. His refinement, he sees now, is mere imitation, mere pretense-monkey see, monkey do. He really is like some sort of mountain ape.

“From now on I’ll believe every word you say. ‘Divine Resignation.’ Yes. Yes, of course…”

Urashima lingers there as if spellbound, bending his ear to that wondrous music.

“We’re going to jump down from here now. Nothing dangerous about it. Just spread your arms like this and step off. You’ll float down nice and easy. From here we should end up right at the foot of the stairway to the main hall. Come on, now, look alive. Ready? Follow me.”

The tortoise sinks slowly out of sight. Urashima blinks as if awaking from a dream, spreads his arms, and steps off the jellyfish canopy. He’s pulled gently downward, and a cool and refreshing breeze plays against his cheeks. The water turns various hues of green, rather like the dappled shade of leafy trees, the sound of the harp grows nearer and clearer, and the next thing he knows he’s standing next to the tortoise at the foot of a stairway. “Stairway” is what the tortoise called it, but it’s more like a gentle, unbroken slope, carpeted with countless tiny orbs that glisten with a dull, silvery sheen.

“Are these pearls too?” Urashima whispers.

The tortoise gives him a pitying look.

“You see something small and round, it must be a pearl, right? I told you the pearls get thrown away. Scoop up a handful of these and take a closer look.”

Urashima bends down to gather several of the little balls in his hands. They’re as cold as ice.

“Oh! It’s hail!”

“Don’t be stupid. Put a few of them in your mouth.”

He obediently stuffs his cheeks with five or six of the cold little globes. “They’re delicious!”

“Aren’t they?” says the tortoise. “These are the cherries of the sea. If you eat these you’ll live for three hundred years and never get any older.”

“Is that right? Does it matter how many you eat?” Our refined Urashima, suddenly forgetting his manners, bends down to scoop up another handful. “I hate the idea of getting old and ugly, you know. I’m not so afraid of dying, but the ravages of age just don’t match my aesthetic. I think I’ll have a few more of these.”

“She’s smiling! Look up there. Her Highness has come to greet you. She looks especially lovely today.”

At the top of the slope of sea cherries stands a petite young woman draped in a sheer blue gown. She’s gazing down at them with a hint of a smile on her lips. Her skin, beneath the translucent gown, is as white as foam.

“Is that Princess Oto?” Urashima whispers, his face turning bright red.

“Who else would it be? Stop fidgeting, you idiot. Acknowledge her.”

Urashima grows even more flustered at the suggestion.

“But what should I say? No sense in announcing my name-what does she care about someone like me? And besides, after barging in uninvited like this… I mean, what’s the point? Let’s go back.”

Apparently even Urashima of the lofty destiny, when face to face with a noble and legendary princess, can turn timid and cowardly. He’s ready to run.

“Her Highness has known about you for a long time. Haven’t you ever heard the expression ‘The palace’s ears reach ten thousand leagues’? Pluck up your courage and give her a polite little bow. Besides, even if she didn’t know anything about you, you wouldn’t have to rack your brains like that. She’s not someone who cares about personal trivialities or harbors suspicions. All you have to say is, ‘I’ve come for a visit.’”

“Oh, sure. As if I could be so rude. Goodness, she’s laughing now! I guess I’d better at least bow to her.”

Urashima bows so deeply his toes are within reach of his hands.

“That’s too polite. What’s the matter with you? You’re the man I owe my life to, for heaven’s sake. Show a little dignity. Scraping the floor like that… You call yourself refined? Look-Her Highness is beckoning. Let’s go. Stand straight, chest out. I want you to strut like you’re the handsomest man in Japan, a man of the noblest, most refined tastes. You have no problem lording it over me with that affected attitude of yours, but face to face with a beautiful woman you turn into a quivering toad?”

“Don’t be coarse. One simply cannot be too respectful of such a noble and exalted person.”

Urashima is so nervous his voice is hoarse and his legs are shaking. He staggers up the slope behind the tortoise, only to find himself in a room that must measure ten thousand mats in size. Or perhaps the word “garden”