Rashomon and Seventeen Other Stories by Ryûnosuke Akutagawa Page B

a storehouse. No wonder people made fun of him!
    Well, anyway, one night E’in slipped out of the temple alone—without his usual band of disciples. He stepped across the road to Sarusawa Pond, and there, on the embankment by the Court Maiden’s Willow, he erected a signboard proclaiming in bold calligraphy, “On the third day of the third month, the dragon of this pond will ascend to heaven.” In fact, E’in had no idea whether a dragon even lived in Sarusawa Pond, and his announcement that it would ascend to heaven on the third day of the third month was a total fabrication. He might have been safer to announce that it would
not
ascend to heaven. Why, then, would he even bother pulling such a prank? The answer is that the people of Nara—his priestly brothers and laity alike—had upset E’in with their constant jokes about his nose.He was determined to put one over on them and have a good laugh at their expense. This probably sounds ridiculous to you, but it happened a long time ago, and back in those days there were pranksters like this everywhere.
    So anyway, the first one to notice the signboard was an old lady who came every morning to worship the K ō fukuji’s Buddha. She was holding her prayer beads and trudging along the bank of the pond, leaning on her bamboo stick, when out of the morning mist, beneath the Court Maiden’s Willow, emerged a sign that she had not seen the day before. This was a very strange place to put up a sign announcing a service at the temple, she thought, and besides, she didn’t know how to read, so she was going to pass on by when, as luck would have it, a monk happened along from the opposite direction and she asked him to tell her what it said.
    â€œOn the third day of the third month, the dragon of this pond will ascend to heaven,” he read.
    This would have come as a surprise to anyone, of course, but the stooped old woman was so stunned she straightened right up and asked the monk, “Could there be a dragon in this pond?”
    He, on the other hand, with complete equanimity delivered her a lecture on the spot: “Long ago, in distant Cathay, there was a scholar who had a swelling that formed over one eyebrow. It itched so badly he couldn’t stand it. Then suddenly one day the heavens grew overcast and with a clap of thunder the clouds released torrents of rain. No sooner did the scholar see the downpour than his lump burst open and from it a black dragon rose straight up to heaven in a swirl of clouds—or so the story goes. If a dragon could live in a face lump, how much more likely that dozens of dragons or poisonous snakes could be slithering around in a big pond like this just waiting for a chance to soar up to the sky.”
    Long convinced that a priest would never tell a lie, the old woman could hardly fail to be shocked at his story. “Now that you mention it, the color of the water over there looks a little strange to me,” she said, and though it was still far from the third day of the third month, she left the priest and rushed off,panting the holy name of Amida, 1 too impatient to bother leaning on her bamboo stick. If no one else had been looking, the priest would have doubled over with laughter. Because yes, it was he, the one who had started it all, Master of the Profound Dialogue, E’in—nickname, Storenose—out walking around the pond just to see if any unsuspecting pigeons would be taken in by the signboard he had put up the night before. And no sooner had the old woman run off than he saw someone else reading the sign—a woman with a servant carrying her baggage (probably a traveler getting an early start). She was peering up from under her round straw hat through the veil hanging around the brim. So then E’in, trying hard as he could not to laugh, walked up to the signboard and pretended to read it. He snorted in feigned amazement with that big red nose of his, and then