Rashomon and Seventeen Other Stories by Ryûnosuke Akutagawa Page A
Authors: Ryûnosuke Akutagawa
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priestly communities of Ike-no-o that the Naigu, while unaware of the reason, felt an indefinable malaise.
And so the Naiguâs mood worsened with each passing day. He could hardly say a word to people without snapping at themâuntil finally, even the disciple who had performed the treatment on his nose began to whisper behind his back: âTheNaigu will be punished for treating us so harshly instead of teaching us Buddhaâs Law.â The one who made the Naigu especially angry was that mischievous page. One day the Naigu heard some loud barking, and without giving it much thought, he stepped outside to see what was going on. There, he found the page waving a long stick in pursuit of a scrawny long-haired dog. The boy was not simply chasing after the dog, however. He was also shouting as if for the dog, ââCanât hit my nose! Ha ha! Canât hit my nose!ââ The Naigu ripped the stick from the boyâs hand and smacked him in the face with it. Then he realized this âstickâ was the slat they had used to hold his nose up at mealtimes.
His nose had been shortened all right, thought the Naigu, but he hated what it was doing to him.
And then one night something happened. The wind must have risen quite suddenly after the sun went down, to judge by the annoying jangle of the pagoda wind chimes that reached him at his pillow. The air was much colder as well, and the aging Naigu was finding it impossible to sleep. Eyes wide open in the darkness, he became aware of a new itching sensation in his nose. He reached up and found the nose slightly swollen to the touch. It (and only it) seemed to be feverish as well.
âWe took such drastic steps to shorten it: maybe that gave me some kind of illness,â the Naigu muttered to himself, cupping the nose in hands he held as if reverentially offering flowers or incense before the Buddha.
When he woke early as usual the next morning, the Naigu found that the templeâs gingko and horse-chestnut trees had dropped their leaves overnight, spreading a bright, golden carpet over the temple grounds. And perhaps because of the frost on the roof of the pagoda, the nine-ring spire atop it flashed in the still-faint glimmer of the rising sun. Standing on the veranda where the latticed shutters had been raised, Zenchi Naigu took a deep breath of morning air.
It was at this moment that an all-but-forgotten sensation returned to him.
The Naigu shot his hand up to his nose, but what he felt there was not the short nose he had touched in the night. It wasthe same old long nose he had always had, dangling down a good six inches from above his upper lip to below his chin. In the space of a single night, his nose had grown as long as ever. When he realized this, the Naigu felt that same bright sense of relief he had experienced when his nose became short.
Now no one will laugh at me anymore
, the Naigu whispered silently in his heart, letting his long nose sway in the dawnâs autumn wind.
(January 1916 )
DRAGON: THE OLD POTTERâS TALE
When I was still a youngster, there was a Buddhist monk named Eâin living in Nara. Now, Eâin had a gigantic nose that was almost as big as his official title: Former Keeper of His Majestyâs Storehouse and Master of the Profound Dialogue. To make matters worse, the tip of his huge nose was bright red all year round, as if it had just been stung by a bee. The people of Nara called him âStorenose.â They had first called him âBignosed Former Keeper of His Majestyâs Storehouse,â but this was too long a nickname for some, who soon shortened it to âKeeper of the Storehouse-nose.â Even that began to seem too long, and the next thing you knew everybody was calling him âStorenose.â I myself caught a glimpse of the man once or twice in the K Å fukuji Temple grounds, and I can tell you he had a magnificent red monster of a snout that really did look as big as
And so the Naiguâs mood worsened with each passing day. He could hardly say a word to people without snapping at themâuntil finally, even the disciple who had performed the treatment on his nose began to whisper behind his back: âTheNaigu will be punished for treating us so harshly instead of teaching us Buddhaâs Law.â The one who made the Naigu especially angry was that mischievous page. One day the Naigu heard some loud barking, and without giving it much thought, he stepped outside to see what was going on. There, he found the page waving a long stick in pursuit of a scrawny long-haired dog. The boy was not simply chasing after the dog, however. He was also shouting as if for the dog, ââCanât hit my nose! Ha ha! Canât hit my nose!ââ The Naigu ripped the stick from the boyâs hand and smacked him in the face with it. Then he realized this âstickâ was the slat they had used to hold his nose up at mealtimes.
His nose had been shortened all right, thought the Naigu, but he hated what it was doing to him.
And then one night something happened. The wind must have risen quite suddenly after the sun went down, to judge by the annoying jangle of the pagoda wind chimes that reached him at his pillow. The air was much colder as well, and the aging Naigu was finding it impossible to sleep. Eyes wide open in the darkness, he became aware of a new itching sensation in his nose. He reached up and found the nose slightly swollen to the touch. It (and only it) seemed to be feverish as well.
âWe took such drastic steps to shorten it: maybe that gave me some kind of illness,â the Naigu muttered to himself, cupping the nose in hands he held as if reverentially offering flowers or incense before the Buddha.
When he woke early as usual the next morning, the Naigu found that the templeâs gingko and horse-chestnut trees had dropped their leaves overnight, spreading a bright, golden carpet over the temple grounds. And perhaps because of the frost on the roof of the pagoda, the nine-ring spire atop it flashed in the still-faint glimmer of the rising sun. Standing on the veranda where the latticed shutters had been raised, Zenchi Naigu took a deep breath of morning air.
It was at this moment that an all-but-forgotten sensation returned to him.
The Naigu shot his hand up to his nose, but what he felt there was not the short nose he had touched in the night. It wasthe same old long nose he had always had, dangling down a good six inches from above his upper lip to below his chin. In the space of a single night, his nose had grown as long as ever. When he realized this, the Naigu felt that same bright sense of relief he had experienced when his nose became short.
Now no one will laugh at me anymore
, the Naigu whispered silently in his heart, letting his long nose sway in the dawnâs autumn wind.
(January 1916 )
DRAGON: THE OLD POTTERâS TALE
When I was still a youngster, there was a Buddhist monk named Eâin living in Nara. Now, Eâin had a gigantic nose that was almost as big as his official title: Former Keeper of His Majestyâs Storehouse and Master of the Profound Dialogue. To make matters worse, the tip of his huge nose was bright red all year round, as if it had just been stung by a bee. The people of Nara called him âStorenose.â They had first called him âBignosed Former Keeper of His Majestyâs Storehouse,â but this was too long a nickname for some, who soon shortened it to âKeeper of the Storehouse-nose.â Even that began to seem too long, and the next thing you knew everybody was calling him âStorenose.â I myself caught a glimpse of the man once or twice in the K Å fukuji Temple grounds, and I can tell you he had a magnificent red monster of a snout that really did look as big as
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