My Lord Bag of Rice

Long ago in Japan there lived a brave warrior whom everyone called Tawara Toda, which means “My Lord Bag of Rice.” His real name was Fujiwara Hidesato, and this is the story of how he came by his other name.

Hidesato had a warrior’s nature and hated sitting idle, so one day he went out looking for adventure. He fastened his two swords at his side, took up his great bow, which stood taller than he did, slung his quiver over his back and set off. Before long he reached the bridge of Seta-no-Karashi, which crosses one end of lovely Lake Biwa. As soon as he stepped onto it he saw a gigantic serpent-dragon stretched across the way. Its body was as thick as the trunk of an old pine and filled the bridge from side to side; one claw rested on one railing and its tail lay against the other. The creature seemed to be sleeping, and with every breath smoke and flame puffed from its nostrils.

For a moment Hidesato was alarmed. He would have to go back, or else walk straight over the monster. But he was a brave man. He put his fear aside and marched on, crunch, crunch, treading now on the dragon’s back and now between its coils, and he did not once look behind him.

He had gone only a few steps further when someone called to him. He turned, and the dragon was gone. In its place stood a strange man bowing low to the ground. Red hair flowed over his shoulders, a crown shaped like a dragon’s head sat on top of it, and his sea-green robe was patterned with shells. Hidesato knew at once that this was no ordinary person. Had the dragon turned into this man? What could it mean? Wondering, he walked back to him.

“Was it you who called me?” he asked.

“It was,” said the stranger. “I have a great favor to ask. Will you grant it?”

“If I can, I will. But first tell me who you are.”

“I am the Dragon King of this lake. My home lies in the water right beneath this bridge.”

“And what do you want of me?”

“I want you to kill my deadly enemy, the centipede who lives on that mountain,” said the Dragon King, pointing to a tall peak across the lake. “I have lived in this lake for many years, with a large family of children and grandchildren. But a monstrous centipede has found our home, and night after night it comes and carries one of my family away. I cannot save them. If this goes on, I will lose every child I have, and then the monster will take me too. In my misery I decided to ask a human being for help. For many days I have lain on this bridge in the shape of that dreadful serpent, hoping a strong and brave man would pass. Everyone who saw me ran away in terror. You are the first who could look at me without fear, so I know your courage is great. Please take pity on me and kill the centipede.”

Hidesato felt sorry for the Dragon King and promised gladly to do what he could. He asked where the centipede lived so that he might go and attack it straight away. The Dragon King told him its home was on Mount Mikami, but since it came to the lake palace every night at a certain hour, it would be better to wait for it there. So Hidesato followed his host down beneath the bridge. Strangely, the water opened in front of them to let them pass, and the warrior’s clothes were not even damp.

He had never seen anything as beautiful as that palace of white marble under the lake. He had heard tales of the Sea King’s palace at the bottom of the ocean, served by salt-water fish, but here was a splendid hall in the heart of Lake Biwa itself, where dainty goldfish, red carp and silver trout waited on the Dragon King and his guest. The feast amazed him. The dishes were crystallized lotus leaves and blossoms, and the chopsticks were rare ebony. When they sat down, the sliding doors opened and ten lovely goldfish came in to dance, followed by ten red carp playing the koto and the samisen. The hours slipped away, and with all the music and dancing the centipede was quite forgotten. It was midnight, and the Dragon King was just raising a fresh cup of wine to his guest, when the whole palace shook with a heavy tramp, tramp, as though a great army were marching close by.

Host and guest leaped up and ran to the balcony. On the mountain opposite, two huge balls of glowing fire were coming nearer and nearer. The Dragon King stood trembling at the warrior’s side.

“The centipede! Those two fireballs are its eyes. It is coming for its prey. Now is the time to kill it!”

In the faint starlight Hidesato could make out, behind the burning eyes, the long body of an enormous centipede winding around the mountains. The light from its hundred feet glowed like a line of distant lanterns creeping down toward the shore.

Hidesato showed no sign of fear. “Don’t be frightened,” he told the Dragon King. “I will certainly kill it. Just bring me my bow and arrows.”

When they were brought he saw that only three arrows were left in his quiver. He fitted one to the string, aimed carefully and let it fly. It struck the centipede squarely in the middle of the head, but instead of going in it glanced off and dropped to the ground. Undaunted, he shot a second arrow. Again it hit the very middle of the head, and again it bounced away harmlessly. No weapon could pierce the monster! Seeing that even this warrior’s arrows were useless, the Dragon King lost all hope and shook with terror.

Hidesato had one arrow left. If it failed, there was nothing more he could do. Across the water the centipede had wrapped its horrible body seven times around the mountain and would soon be down at the lake. Its fiery eyes came closer, and the gleam of its hundred feet began to shine back from the still water.

Then the warrior remembered something he had once heard: in the tales he had heard, human spittle could kill a centipede. This was no ordinary centipede, of course, but a creature so monstrous it made one shudder to think of it. Still, it was his last chance. He put the tip of the last arrow in his mouth, fitted it to the bow, aimed carefully once more and let go.

Once again the arrow hit the centipede in the middle of the head, and this time it did not glance off. It drove straight into the creature’s brain. The long body shuddered and was still. The fiery light of its eyes and its hundred feet faded to a dull glow, like sunset on a stormy evening, and then went out altogether. A great darkness covered the sky. Thunder rolled, lightning flashed and the wind howled as if the world were ending. The palace rocked to its foundations, and the Dragon King, his children and his servants all huddled in corners, half dead with fright.

At last the terrible night was over, and the day dawned bright and clear. The centipede was gone from the mountain. Hidesato called the Dragon King out onto the balcony and told him he had nothing more to fear. Everyone in the palace came out rejoicing, and the warrior pointed to the lake. There floated the dead centipede, and the water around it was stained red.

The Dragon King’s gratitude had no limits. His whole family bowed down before Hidesato, calling him their savior and the bravest warrior in Japan. A second feast was laid, even grander than the first: every kind of fish, raw, stewed, boiled and roasted, on coral trays and crystal dishes, and the finest wine Hidesato had ever tasted. The sun shone, the lake sparkled like a liquid diamond, and the palace looked a thousand times lovelier by day than by night.

The Dragon King begged him to stay a few days, but Hidesato insisted on going home, for he had done what he came to do. His hosts were sorry to see him go so soon, and they asked him to accept a few small presents, as they called them, in thanks for freeing them forever from their dreadful enemy. As the warrior stood in the porch to say goodbye, a line of fish suddenly turned into a procession of men in ceremonial robes, each wearing a dragon crown to show that he served the Dragon King. They carried five gifts: a large bronze bell, a bag of rice, a roll of silk, a cooking pot and another bell. Hidesato did not want to take so much, but the Dragon King would not hear of a refusal. He walked with the warrior as far as the bridge, took his leave there with many bows and good wishes, and sent the procession on to carry the presents to Hidesato’s house.

At home, the warrior’s household was badly worried when he failed to come back that night, though in the end they decided the violent storm must have made him take shelter somewhere. When the servants on watch saw him coming, they called everyone out to meet him, and they all stared at the train of men with banners and presents following behind. The moment the Dragon King’s servants set down their loads, they vanished, and Hidesato told his people everything that had happened.

The gifts turned out to be magic. Only the bell was ordinary, and since Hidesato had no use for it he gave it to the temple nearby, where it was hung to boom out the hours over the countryside. But the single bag of rice never grew smaller, however much was taken out of it day after day to feed the knight and his whole household. The roll of silk never grew shorter, though long pieces were cut from it again and again to make him new clothes for the New Year at court. And the cooking pot was a wonder: whatever was put into it cooked to perfection without any fire at all.

News of Hidesato’s good fortune spread far and wide. Since he never needed to spend money on rice or silk or firewood, he grew rich and prosperous, and from then on he was known as My Lord Bag of Rice.

Where this story comes from

“My Lord Bag of Rice” is the first story in Yei Theodora Ozaki’s Japanese Fairy Tales, whose preface is signed from Tokio in 1908. In that preface Ozaki explains that she translated her stories from the modern Japanese versions written by Sadanami Sanjin, and that she told them freely for young readers in the West, adding touches of local color where she thought they were needed.

The hero’s nickname, Tawara Toda, is the whole point of the tale: it is a name earned by a bag of rice that never empties. Ozaki places the meeting with the Dragon King on the bridge of Seta-no-Karashi at one end of Lake Biwa, and the centipede’s lair on Mount Mikami across the water.

Read the original: Japanese Fairy Tales (Project Gutenberg)

Reading guidance: for children comfortable with frightening monsters and fantasy combat. The centipede threatens a family and is killed by an arrow; its blood appears in the lake.

A frightening appearance and a useful gift

The dragon blocks the bridge like an enemy, yet turns out to be the parent asking for help. The centipede is the real attacker. That reversal makes Hidesato’s willingness to stop and listen as important as his willingness to cross the bridge. Courage opens the encounter; attention tells him whose danger matters.

His first two shots are accurate but ineffective. The final shot changes the method, not the target. The magical detail about saliva belongs to the story and is not advice for handling real animals. The rewards then shift the scale from spectacular combat to everyday needs: rice, cloth and cooking fuel support an entire household.

Sort the gifts into things that impress an audience and things that sustain daily life. Which kind gives the hero his lasting name? Use the ending to explain why this monster-slaying story is named after a bag of rice.

Talk about it

• Why did the Dragon King choose Hidesato to help him?
• What did Hidesato do differently with his third arrow?
• Which of the Dragon King’s gifts would you most like to have, and why?

Related stories

• The Story of Urashima Taro, the Fisher Lad — another visit to a palace under the water
• The Ogre of Rashomon — a Japanese warrior faces a monster alone
• The Tongue-Cut Sparrow — magic gifts in a Japanese fairy tale