The Monkey and the Crab

A faint smell of cooked rice drifted up from a round rice ball lying on the bank of a stream. A pair of small claws lifted it carefully, holding it like a gift from the sky. It was a rice ball the mother crab had just found by chance, after a whole morning spent looking for food along the edge of the paddy.

As people in Japan have long told it, this happened in a country village, where rice fields ran beside small streams. The mother crab lived with her little ones in a burrow dug into the bank of a stream, next to the villagers' rice field.

The mother crab admired the round rice ball she had just found, and she felt very pleased. Not every day brought a rice ball that big, so she planned to save it and eat it over the next few meals.

Just then, a monkey came ambling down from the hillside behind her. His stomach was growling, because he had found no fruit to eat all morning. One sniff was enough. He caught the warm smell of rice drifting up from the stream bank.

The monkey tiptoed closer, his eyes fixed on the rice ball held in the mother crab's two claws. He did not snatch it at once. Instead he squatted down beside her and spoke in a strangely pleasant voice. That rice ball looks delicious, the monkey said, but one meal and it is gone. He happened to have a persimmon seed in his hand. Planted in the ground, in a few years it would grow into a big tree, giving sweet fruit year after year, more than anyone could ever finish.

The mother crab looked at the tiny persimmon seed in the monkey's palm, then back at her own full, round rice ball, and she could not decide. A tree that gave fruit for many years, something to save for all her children, sounded just as sensible. She nodded and handed the rice ball to the monkey in exchange for the tiny seed. The monkey took the rice ball and gobbled it up on the spot. Then he brushed off his hands and walked away without a backward glance.

The mother crab carried the persimmon seed home. She dug a small hole right beside the door of her burrow, laid the seed in it and covered it carefully with earth. All that winter, she crawled out every day to check on the little patch of ground, even though nothing seemed to happen.

The next spring, a tiny green shoot finally pushed up through the soil. The mother crab was so happy that she called all her children out to see it. Pointing at a sprout no bigger than a fingernail, she told them, here it is, children, here is our family's tree at last.

The sprout grew a little more with every season, year after year. Before long, the trunk stood taller than the mother crab's head, and its green leaves shaded a whole corner of the stream bank. Day after day she crawled around its foot, pulling weeds and bringing water on dry days. She cared for it as she would care for a small child.

Then one spring the tree blossomed for the first time. By autumn that year it had grown tall and full of leaves, and clusters of young green persimmons hung on its highest branches. The mother crab stood at the foot of the tree and looked up, her heart racing as she waited for the day the fruit would ripen.

Before long, the persimmons began to turn a plump orange red. Whenever the autumn wind blew, a whole corner of the stream bank smelled sweet. The mother crab crawled back and forth around the foot of the tree, her two small claws reaching up toward the bunches of fruit high above. But a crab has only legs for scuttling sideways, and not one of them can climb.

After struggling for a long while, the mother crab remembered that same monkey from before, who could climb trees better than anyone. She went to find him and asked him to climb up and pick a few persimmons for her. The monkey agreed at once. He followed her back to the tree, scrambled up and perched on a high branch, calmly looking over the ripe bunches.

Up in the tree, the monkey picked the reddest, ripest persimmons for himself. He stuffed his mouth full and gulped them down, paying no attention to the mother crab waiting below. She called up, asking him to drop a few down as her share. The monkey sneered. He reached for some hard green persimmons that were not yet ripe and threw them straight down at the spot where she stood.

One green persimmon struck the mother crab right on her shell with a dry thud. She sank to the ground and lay still. The young crabs rushed over and called to their mother again and again. She did not answer, and they burst into frightened tears, not knowing what to do. Luckily, after a long, breathless wait, the mother crab stirred a little. She let out a long breath and slowly came to, though her whole body still ached.

As for the monkey, from the moment he saw her fall and lie still, he never once asked how she was. He simply slid down the tree and went straight home, as if nothing had happened.

From that day on, the young crabs could not forget the sight of their mother falling at the foot of the persimmon tree. They agreed that they must go to the monkey's own home and make him see the wrong he had done. But they knew how small they were, no match for the monkey, so they set off across the countryside to find friends to help them.

First came a chestnut lying by the roadside. Hearing the story, it agreed at once and promised to hide well out of sight. Next came a bee sipping nectar from a clump of flowers nearby. When it had heard everything, it buzzed angrily and flew after them. A patch of fresh cow dung lying beside a barn also offered its part. It could not say a word, but it was ready to make anyone who stepped on it slip. Last came a heavy rice mortar that had always sat quietly in a corner of a yard. It too was carried along, waiting to bring down its full weight at just the right moment.

Just as night was falling, the whole group arrived at the monkey's home. Each friend slipped quietly into a hiding place they had planned beforehand, and they waited for the monkey to come back.

When the monkey got home, the air had turned cold, so he lit a fire to warm himself as he did every evening. The chestnut was already hiding in the pile of ashes, waiting only for the heat to reach it. Then it burst open and shot straight at the monkey's hand. He jumped in fright and shrieked with pain.

Before he could recover, the monkey rushed to the water jar by the door to cool his hand. But the bee, hiding on the rim of the jar, zipped out and stung him right where his hand had just been burned.

Smarting with pain, the monkey leapt up and dashed for the door to escape. With a plop, he stepped right onto the slippery cow dung that had been placed in front of the doorstep, and he went sprawling on the ground.

The monkey was still pushing himself up on his hands. At that very moment, the rice mortar dropped straight down from the roof and pinned him fast, so he could neither wriggle free nor run away.

The young crabs crawled out of the darkness and surrounded the monkey, raising their little claws. Pinned flat under the weight of the mortar, the monkey was too frightened to move. All he could do was bow low and beg them not to do anything more.

The monkey saw the faces of the young crabs, still marked by the fear of the afternoon their mother fell, and his heart suddenly sank. He bowed his head very low. He said he was sorry for tricking her, for eating all the ripe fruit, and for throwing green fruit that hurt the mother crab. And he promised never again to trick any of his neighbors.

The mother crab, her injury now mostly healed, crawled over and looked at the monkey for a long time. Then she nodded and agreed to forgive him. There was just one condition, she said. From now on, the monkey must help the crab family look after the persimmon tree, picking the fruit and sharing it equally with everyone instead of keeping it for himself.

From then on, every autumn, the persimmon tree by the stream hung heavy with red ripe fruit, and anyone passing by saw an unusual sight. A monkey perched on a high branch, carefully picking each ripe persimmon and dropping it gently down to the crabs waiting below. Never again was a green persimmon thrown down carelessly, as it had been that year.

Every time the fruit ripened, the laughter of the young crabs rang out beneath the tree. And the monkey, though he sometimes still remembered the pain of that day, laughed along with them, his two hands busy picking fruit and sharing it equally with everyone.