Issun-bōshi - Japanese

My name is Issun-bōshi, and though I stand no taller than a grown man’s thumb, my dreams are as vast as the sky over Japan. I have always known, with a certainty that burned brighter than any lantern, that I was destined to become a samurai. This is the story of Issun-bōshi, the One-Inch Boy. My story begins not with me, but with an elderly couple who longed for a child more than anything. They prayed at the Sumiyoshi shrine day after day, until one day their wish was granted, though in a most peculiar way. I was born to them, perfect in every way except for one small detail: I was only an inch tall. They named me Issun-bōshi, which means “One-Inch Boy,” and their joy was immeasurable. They loved me fiercely, crafting tiny clothes for me and a house from a doll’s box. Raising me presented unique challenges, of course. A strong gust of wind could be a perilous storm, and a common house cat looked like a fearsome tiger. But what I lacked in stature, I made up for with a sharp mind and a courageous spirit. I listened to the stories of legendary samurai and imagined myself wielding a katana, defending the innocent. My parents saw the fire in my eyes and knew that my small body could not contain my enormous ambition.

When I felt I had come of age, I knew I could no longer stay in my quiet village. My destiny awaited me in the capital city of Kyoto, where the great lords and their samurai lived. I announced my intention to my parents. “I am going to the capital to become a warrior,” I said, my voice filled with a determination that belied my size. Their faces were a mixture of pride and sorrow. They knew they could not hold me back. My mother, with tears in her eyes, gave me a sewing needle to serve as my sword, placing it in a sheath made from a single piece of straw. My father provided my vessel: a simple wooden rice bowl. For an oar, he gave me a chopstick. Standing at the river’s edge, I looked like a miniature sailor embarking on a grand voyage. The journey was an adventure beyond my wildest dreams. The tall reeds along the riverbank seemed like a dense and towering forest. A dragonfly buzzed past my head with the roar of a monstrous beast, and I gripped my needle-sword, ready for battle. I navigated the currents with my chopstick oar, my heart pounding with excitement and a touch of fear. After many days, I saw the magnificent rooftops of Kyoto rising in the distance. The city was a colossal, thundering giant. Everything was immense—the gates, the buildings, the people. But I was not intimidated. I was Issun-bōshi, and I would find the mansion of the great lord, the daimyo, and prove my worth.

Finding the daimyo's estate was a challenge, but I was resourceful. I asked a passing ant for directions—figuratively, of course—and eventually stood before the towering gates of the lord’s home. When I announced my purpose, the guards laughed, but my unwavering confidence intrigued them enough to let me see their master. I stood before the powerful lord, a mere speck on his polished floor, and declared, “I have come to serve you and become a samurai.” The lord, a man named Sanjō, was so amused and impressed by my audacity that he granted me a position. I became the companion and protector of his beautiful daughter, the princess. My life in the palace was extraordinary. I would ride in the princess’s sleeve, a secret guardian, or sit upon her decorative fan as she walked through the gardens. She was kind and treated me not as a curiosity, but as a loyal friend. My dream was within reach. One day, on April 5th, the princess and I visited the Kiyomizu Temple. As we were leaving, the sky suddenly darkened. A monstrous Oni, a horned demon with skin the color of thunderclouds and eyes like burning coals, crashed out of the woods. It towered over us, its roar shaking the very ground. The princess screamed, but I did not hesitate. “I will protect you,” I shouted, drawing my needle-sword. The Oni looked down and burst into laughter. “What is this? A talking insect?” it boomed, and before I could react, it snatched me up and swallowed me whole. It was dark and cavernous inside the Oni’s stomach. But a true samurai never gives up. With all my might, I began stabbing the inside of its belly with my sharp needle. The Oni howled in agony, thrashing and stumbling. The pain was unbearable, and with a final, mighty heave, it spat me out onto the grass and fled back into the forest, defeated.

As the monstrous Oni vanished, something fell to the ground with a soft thud. It was the demon’s magical mallet, the Uchide no kozuchi, a legendary artifact that could grant any wish. The princess, her eyes wide with astonishment and gratitude, rushed to my side. “Issun-bōshi, you were so brave. You saved my life,” she said, her voice filled with awe. She picked up the magic mallet. “You have the heart and soul of the greatest samurai in all of Japan. It is only right that your body matches your spirit.” She swung the hammer and wished for me to become a full-sized man. In a swirl of golden light, I began to grow. My limbs stretched, my body expanded, and soon I stood before her as a handsome young samurai, tall and strong. When we returned to the palace, the lord was overjoyed to hear of my heroic deed. He saw that my courage and character were truly immeasurable. “You have proven yourself a true warrior, Issun-bōshi,” he declared. “You are worthy of my daughter’s hand.” And so, the princess and I were married, and I was appointed a high-ranking official in the lord’s court. My story, passed down through generations in the Otogi-zōshi collection of tales, became a testament to the power of perseverance. It teaches that no matter how small you start or how large the obstacles in your path may be, a determined spirit and a courageous heart can overcome anything. True strength is not measured in inches or feet, but in the boundless courage that lies within.