Although Negishi was stationed on Sadō Island and in Edo for most of the time he wrote Mimibukuro, his stories were collected from people who traveled all around Japan. Some of them were probably traders on kitamaebune who brought stories from all over the place. Tonight’s story is one from my hometown of Fukui, and the Asuwa River mentioned is very close to my home and one of my favorite walking paths. This story is not in Echizen-Wakasa Kidan, despite being from here; however it will probably make it into a future volume.

This story is also interesting because it is much more narrative and story-like than many of the others we have seen. This was clearly a fantastic legend that was told to Negishi, rather than a report of a strange incident, and his writing shows it.

The poem in the story took me several hours to translate. If you remember last year’s A-Yokai-A-Day I probably complained a lot about translating Japanese poetry. It’s so hard to do, without utterly destroying the meaning and the beauty of the poem. That is once again the case here, as the painfully short line —

暮每にとひ來しものをあすは川あすの夜波のあだに寄覽

— evokes so much imagery and symbolism, while leaving so much unsaid. Japanese and English are extremely different in this way. English is more strict about context and grammar than Japanese in a lot of ways, and that is especially clear in poetry. In Japanese you can drop off any part of the sentence that you don’t want or need, and the reader has to infer that part. That makes it possible to create short and simple poems with evocative language and a specific meter that still carry double or triple meanings. These kind of poems are used as battles of wits or challenges very often in stories.

There are two parts of this story that leave me unsatisfied. The first is that we never get to hear the lord’s reply poem! Since it caused the turtle to stop attacking, we have to assume it was a brilliant poem that both demonstrated that the lord understood the double/hidden meanings of the original poem, and that solved the problem in one way or the other and satisfied the turtle. What could it have been???

The second is that Genzō gets a pardon for his crime, and it is written off as not a malicious act. This of course is because the man he killed was not a samurai, and thus was not important enough to warrant a punishment for his murder. Yuck. But that’s how life was under the samurai…

The Strange Turtle in Asuwa River

In Echizen, in Fukui Domain, there lived a brave and bold man named something-or-other Genzō. Yet, it was precisely because of his bold nature that he was ordered to serve as a retainer and sent to Fukui.

In Fukui flows the Asuwa River. It is traversed by a large bridge called Tsukumobashi. A giant turtle lives in that river and it is said to sometimes snatch people.

Now, one day, when Genzō was crossing Tsukumobashi, he saw a truly extraordinary giant turtle on the riverbank. Genzō thought, “That must be the abominable man-eating turtle!” And he drew his sword, stripped naked, and dove into the river.

He easily slew the turtle, and he asked the nearby villagers to help pull it out of the water. “The shell I shall present to the lord, while the meat I shall take home and eat with sake,” he decided.

He ordered his attendant to prepare the turtle while he took a nap. His attendant thought deeply, “A turtle this large must be poisonous. It would be unwise to let my master eat it. I shall dispose of it in the river, and explain my reasons.” He immediately discarded the turtle and then told his master. Genzō flew into a rage and mercilessly cut the attendant down.

The lord declared that Genzō’s handling of the matter was inexcusable. Genzō was placed under arrest and confined to a single room. Though he was such a brave man, Genzō was afraid of the lord’s punishment and his spirit weakened. Late at night when he was lying in bed, someone came to him and recited a poem:

Every evening my lover came to me at Asuwa River, yet tomorrow night only the empty waves will wash ashore. Now my revenge will come every night.

Then he struck Genzō on the head. The pain was unbearable, so he got up, but nobody was there anymore. This happened two nights in a row, so Genzō prepared himself, and around the time the poem was recited, he lifted his head from the pillow and held the pillow out. The pillow was shredded into bits. Though he was greatly startled, word of this reached the lord.

The lord said, “What a strange thing. Genzō killed a male turtle, so perhaps this is a female turtle seeking revenge.”

Then he composed a reply poem, sealed it, and floated it down the Asuwa River. After that the vengeful spirit ceased its attack on Genzō.

From that day on, Genzō reformed his ways and became more earnest.

Declaring that it was not a crime of malice, the lord forgave Genzō’s offense, and Genzō safely returned to duty.