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

“And you take everything too seriously. The princess lives in her own world. You’re a guest from a faraway land, and you’re also the one who saved my life, so it’s only natural she’d come out to greet you. Besides, you’re suave, you’re debonair, you’re handsome… Wait. That part’s a joke, in case you didn’t know-we don’t need you getting a big head again. Whenever we have unusual guests, the princess makes a point of greeting them. And after greeting them, she leaves them alone-retires to her chambers and forgets about them, so they’ll feel free to do just as they please and to stay as long as they like. The truth is, not even those of us who live here ever really know what she’s thinking. As I said, she’s in her own world.”

“Well, when you put it that way… I think I’m beginning to understand. Yes. Perhaps there is something in what you say. Perhaps this method of extending hospitality is in fact of the truest, noblest sort. Greet the guests and then forget about them. You leave sumptuous delicacies casually scattered about, and even the music and dance are spontaneous and unpretentious-not performed to impress anyone. Princess Oto thinks not of the listeners when she plays the harp, nor do the fish concern themselves with who might be watching as they flit about in absolute freedom. No one’s anxious to be praised by the guests. And the guests, for their part, don’t have to be careful about expressing their admiration. They can, if they choose, merely stretch out and pay no attention to the entertainment whatsoever. It’s no breach of etiquette to simply get high and let the music carry you away.

“Yes, this is the way it should be. This is how guests ought to be received! I see that now. It’s a far cry from the supposedly genteel hospitality of those small-minded schemers who press tasteless food upon their visitors, spout insincere compliments, roar with laughter at witless witticisms, feign astonishment at the most commonplace anecdotes, and exchange endless, meaningless social pleasantries. I’d love to show them how a truly magnanimous host entertains a guest. Just once I’d like them to see the treatment one gets here at the Dragon Palace! All they think of is their social standing. They tremble with fear at the thought of it slipping, and they regard their guests with wary eyes, running around in frantic circles with no more sincerity in their hearts than you could find in the last speck of dirt beneath their fingernails. ‘I shall treat you to a cup of sake.’ ‘I shall drink to your health.’ It might as well be a business contract. Disgusting!”

“That’s the spirit!” the tortoise cries gleefully. “But don’t get too worked up. We don’t want you having a heart attack on us. Here, sit down on this algae bush and sip a few sea cherry petals. The bouquet may be a bit strong for you at first, so you might want to mix them with five or six cherries. Put them all in your mouth together and they’ll melt into a cool and refreshing drink. The taste depends on the mixture. Try different combinations until you find one that suits you.”

Urashima is in the mood for a rather strong drink at the moment, so he plucks three petals and places them on his tongue with a pair of cherries. In a matter of seconds they dissolve into a wine so delicious that the taste alone induces a euphoric feeling that trickles pleasantly down his throat and ends as a warm glow radiating out from his belly in all directions.

“This is wonderful. The old saw expresses it exactly: ‘Wine is a broom that sweeps away sorrow.’”

“Sorrow?” the tortoise presses him. “You have something to be sorrowful about?”

“Me? No. I mean, that’s not what I meant.” Urashima laughs to hide his embarrassment then sighs a little sigh and steals another glance at Princess Oto, who can still be seen walking slowly off in the distance. Shimmering in the wavy pale green light, she might be a rare, translucent, marvelously scented sea plant drifting away, far beyond reach. “I wonder where she’s going,” he mutters in spite of himself.

“I told you,” the tortoise says, not quite rolling his eyes. “To her chambers, probably.”

“You keep talking about chambers. Where in the world are they? I don’t see a room anywhere.”

Whichever way he looks there’s nothing but the vast, all-encompassing greenish glow. Not so much as a hint of walls.

“Look where the princess is walking. Don’t you see something beyond her, far off in the distance?”

Urashima furrows his brow and squints.

“You’re right. There does seem to be something.”

Perhaps a league or so away, where the sea seems as hazy and elusive as ghost tales, is a little white shape, like an underwater flower.

“Awfully small, isn’t it?”

“The princess doesn’t need much room to sleep by herself.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Urashima mixes another mouthful of sea-cherry wine. “Is she always so quiet?”

“Yes. Speech blossomed from anxiety, after all. Words were fermented from the uncertainty of existence, like poisonous red mushrooms that sprout from rotting earth. It’s true we have words of joy and pleasure, but aren’t those the most unnatural and contrived of all? Apparently human beings experience anxiety even in the midst of joy. But in a place without anxiety there’s no need for such ignoble contrivances. I’ve never heard Her Highness utter a single word. But, mind you, she’s not like a lot of quiet people who secretly have a bitter or cynical view of things. Far from it-she hasn’t a thought in her head. She just smiles that little smile, plucks at her harp, wanders about the halls, sips at the cherry petals, and generally takes things as they come. She’s very easygoing.”

“Oh? So she too drinks this cherry wine? It really is good stuff, isn’t it? It’s all a man needs. Mind if I have a bit more?”

“Help yourself. To practice self-restraint in a place like this would be the height of idiocy. You have unlimited license here. Why don’t you eat something as well? Every algae bush you see is a rare delicacy. You want something substantial? Or something light and tart? Any flavor you like, we’ve got it.”

“I can hear the harp again. I suppose it’s all right to lie down and listen awhile.”

Unlimited license. This is something Urashima has never before experienced. Forgetting all about his refinement-and everything else, for that matter-he sprawls out on his back. “Ahh… It feels good to get high and just stretch out like this. Wouldn’t mind nibbling on something while I’m at it. Is there any algae here that tastes like roasted pheasant?”

“There is,” says the tortoise.

“And, let’s see, how about mulberries?”

“I suppose you can find that flavor too. But I must say you’ve got awfully provincial tastes.”

“Just revealing my true colors. I’m only a hick from the sticks, y’know.” Even his manner of speaking has changed.

Looking up, he can see a misty blue dome made of schools of countless fish serenely revolving high above him; and even as he watches, one school breaks away from the others and swiftly scatters in every direction, silvery scales glinting and swirling like snow in a raging blizzard.

In the Dragon Palace there is no day or night. It’s like a perpetual morning in May, cool and fresh and suffused with leafy green rays of light. Urashima has no idea how long he’s been here now, but he has indeed been granted unlimited license during his stay. He has even visited Princess Oto’s chambers. She displays not the slightest aversion, but merely smiles her faint, ambiguous smile.

A time comes, however, when Urashima has had his fill. Perhaps he’s grown bored with absolute freedom. He begins to miss his modest life on land and to think of those who remain there, fretting over their mutual criticisms, weeping with sorrow and rage, furtively living out their meager lives, as charming and somehow very beautiful.