Dazai Osamu - Otogizoshi - The Fairy Tale Book of Dazai Osamu

Since arriving at the Dragon Palace, the tortoise’s poison tongue has only acquired an even nastier sting. Urashima is crushed.

“But… but… I can’t see anything!” His voice is practically a sob.

“That’s why I told you to watch your step. This isn’t a corridor like on land, you know. It’s a bridge of fish. Hundreds of millions of fish all huddled together. Be careful.”

A chill races down Urashima’s spine, and he shoots to his tiptoes. No wonder the floor felt so slimy beneath his feet! Peering down, he can see that it does indeed consist of countless fish of every size and description, squeezed together gill to gill and all but motionless.

“This is horrible!” he sputters as he minces unsteadily along. “In very bad taste, I must say. Is this what you call the serene, secluded beauty of the place-having the guest walk on the backs of fish? It’s the ultimate in vulgarity! Think of the poor fish, to begin with! If this is refinement, it’s of a variety a bit too bizarre for simple country folk like me to comprehend!”

The opportunity to vent his resentment at having been called a hick provides a small amount of satisfaction, if only momentarily.

“Not at all, sir,” says a tiny voice at his feet. “We come here each day to listen to Her Highness Princess Oto play the harp. This bridge of ours isn’t an expression of refinement. We’re simply entranced by the music, you see. Please feel free to walk on. We don’t feel a thing, I assure you.”

“Oh. I see,” Urashima says with an embarrassed smile. “I thought this was meant as some sort of decorative touch to the palace environs or-”

“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.