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 af
fected 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” would be more appropriate. This space too is carpeted with the little hail-like cherries shining in the leaf-green rays of light that waft through the hazy atmosphere. Here and there, in no particular arrangement, are large black rocks, the only visible objects. There is of course no roof, nor a single pillar as far as the eye can see, giving the place the air of an ancient ruin. It’s some time before Urashima notices the tiny purple flowers peeping out amid the sea cherries, but these only seem to add to the solitude of the scene. He finds it amazing that anyone could bear to live in such a lonely, secluded place, and he sighs a sigh of something like wonder. Then he remembers himself and steals a glance at the princess.
Without a word, she turns her back to him and begins to walk slowly away. It’s then that he notices for the first time the countless tiny golden fish, smaller than the smallest minnows, swimming along behind her: a scarcely visible, glittering golden train that conforms precisely to her every move, like an aura. She is indeed, he feels, an august being, and not of the everyday world.
Princess Oto is barefoot, her thin garment fluttering in slow motion with each step, and as Urashima watches he realizes that her small white feet are not quite touching the carpet of sea cherries. Maybe the soles of those feet have never touched anything. No doubt they’re as soft and smooth as the feet of a newborn baby—a thought that only makes her unembellished body seem to him all the more exquisite, the literal embodiment of purity and nobility. He begins to feel grateful for this adventure of his, glad he allowed himself to be talked into coming to the Dragon Palace, as he dreamily follows along behind her.
“Well? Not bad, eh?” the tortoise whispers, nudging him in the ribs with a fin.
“No... What?” Reverie interrupted, Urashima quickly changes the subject. “These flowers, these purple flowers. They’re very pretty.”
“What, these things?” the tortoise says, wincing with disappointment. “They’re just the flowers of the sea cherries. They look a little like violets, don’t they? Sip at these petals and you’ll get nice and high. They serve as our wine here. And those things that look like big rocks? They’re actually algae bushes that have been growing for tens of thousands of years. They’re softer and chewier than bean jam and more delicious than anything you can find on land. Each bush is a different flavor too. Down here we eat that algae, get high on the flower petals, sip the juice of the sea cherries when we’re thirsty, listen to Princess Oto’s harp, and watch the little fish dance about like living snow flurries. I told you when I invited you down here that it’s a place of music, dance, delectable food, and wonderful wine. Is it different from what you expected?”
Urashima makes no reply but a poignant, rueful smile.
“I’ll bet you expected lots of noise and commotion, trays full of sea bream and tuna sashimi, dancing girls in red kimono, stacks of damask and brocade, gold and silver and coral and—”
“Come now,” says Urashima, looking somewhat insulted. “I’m not so vulgar as all that. Still, though, I’ve always thought of myself as a solitary sort, but after coming here and seeing a person who leads a truly lonely life I feel ashamed of the affected way I’ve led my own till now.”
“You mean Her Highness?” The tortoise jerks his chin toward Princess Oto. “Nothing lonely about her life. She couldn’t care less. It’s because people have aspirations and ambitions that solitude wears on them. If you don’t give a damn what the rest of the world is up to, you can be alone for a hundred years—a thousand years—with no difficulty whatsoever. At least, you can if you don’t let criticism bother you. But tell me something: Where do you think you’re going?”
“Hm? I’m just... I mean...” The question has caught Urashima off guard. “But you said she—”
“You think she means to give you a guided tour? Listen, she’s already forgotten all about you. No doubt she’s on her way back to her chambers. Snap out of it, man. This is the Dragon Palace. We’re already here. There’s nothing more to see. You do whatever you like here. That’s not good enough for you?”
“Stop mocking me. What am I supposed to do?” Urashima is on the verge of tears again. “I mean, she came out to greet me, didn’t she? It’s not as if I think I’m anyone special, I just thought that following her was the proper thing to do! And I’m certainly not saying that anything’s not good enough for me. You act as if I have some disgusting ulterior motive or something. You’re really a nasty fellow, aren’t you? I’ve never been teased like this before. You’re quite despicable.”
“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 tast
e 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?”