“Me? No. I mean, that’s not what I meant.” Urashima laughs to hide his embarrassment then sighs a little sigh and steals another glance at Princess Oto, who can still be seen walking slowly off in the distance. Shimmering in the wavy pale green light, she might be a rare, translucent, marvelously scented sea plant drifting away, far beyond reach. “I wonder where she’s going,” he mutters in spite of himself.
“I told you,” the tortoise says, not quite rolling his eyes. “To her chambers, probably.”
“You keep talking about chambers. Where in the world are they? I don’t see a room anywhere.”
Whichever way he looks there’s nothing but the vast, all-encompassing greenish glow. Not so much as a hint of walls.
“Look where the princess is walking. Don’t you see something beyond her, far off in the distance?”
Urashima furrows his brow and squints.
“You’re right. There does seem to be something.”
Perhaps a league or so away, where the sea seems as hazy and elusive as ghost tales, is a little white shape, like an underwater flower.
“Awfully small, isn’t it?”
“The princess doesn’t need much room to sleep by herself.”
“I suppose that’s true.” Urashima mixes another mouthful of sea-cherry wine. “Is she always so quiet?”
“Yes. Speech blossomed from anxiety, after all. Words were fermented from the uncertainty of existence, like poisonous red mushrooms that sprout from rotting earth. It’s true we have words of joy and pleasure, but aren’t those the most unnatural and contrived of all? Apparently human beings experience anxiety even in the midst of joy. But in a place without anxiety there’s no need for such ignoble contrivances. I’ve never heard Her Highness utter a single word. But, mind you, she’s not like a lot of quiet people who secretly have a bitter or cynical view of things. Far from it—she hasn’t a thought in her head. She just smiles that little smile, plucks at her harp, wanders about the halls, sips at the cherry petals, and generally takes things as they come. She’s very easygoing.”
“Oh? So she too drinks this cherry wine? It really is good stuff, isn’t it? It’s all a man needs. Mind if I have a bit more?”
“Help yourself. To practice self-restraint in a place like this would be the height of idiocy. You have unlimited license here. Why don’t you eat something as well? Every algae bush you see is a rare delicacy. You want something substantial? Or something light and tart? Any flavor you like, we’ve got it.”
“I can hear the harp again. I suppose it’s all right to lie down and listen awhile.”
Unlimited license. This is something Urashima has never before experienced. Forgetting all about his refinement—and everything else, for that matter—he sprawls out on his back. “Ahh... It feels good to get high and just stretch out like this. Wouldn’t mind nibbling on something while I’m at it. Is there any algae here that tastes like roasted pheasant?”
“There is,” says the tortoise.
“And, let’s see, how about mulberries?”
“I suppose you can find that flavor too. But I must say you’ve got awfully provincial tastes.”
“Just revealing my true colors. I’m only a hick from the sticks, y’know.” Even his manner of speaking has changed.
Looking up, he can see a misty blue dome made of schools of countless fish serenely revolving high above him; and even as he watches, one school breaks away from the others and swiftly scatters in every direction, silvery scales glinting and swirling like snow in a raging blizzard.
In the Dragon Palace there is no day or night. It’s like a perpetual morning in May, cool and fresh and suffused with leafy green rays of light. Urashima has no idea how long he’s been here now, but he has indeed been granted unlimited license during his stay. He has even visited Princess Oto’s chambers. She displays not the slightest aversion, but merely smiles her faint, ambiguous smile.
A time comes, however, when Urashima has had his fill. Perhaps he’s grown bored with absolute freedom. He begins to miss his modest life on land and to think of those who remain there, fretting over their mutual criticisms, weeping with sorrow and rage, furtively living out their meager lives, as charming and somehow very beautiful.
He goes to Princess Oto and bids her farewell. Even this sudden departure of his is met with only a wordless smile of acquiescence. Nothing is unacceptable. He’s been given unlimited license from the very beginning of his stay until the very end. Princess Oto comes as far as the great stairway to see him off and silently hands him a seashell. It’s a tightly closed bivalve shell of five brilliant colors. This is, of course, the famous “jeweled box” that Urashima carries home with him.
Once you’ve climbed to the top, ’sno fun coming down. In a kind of daze he settles on the tortoise’s back again and leaves the palace behind. A strange sort of melancholy wells up in his breast. Ah! he thinks, I forgot to say thank you! There’s nowhere in the world to match that place! I should have stayed forever! But he knows he’s a creature of the land. No matter how easy life may have been in the Dragon Palace, his own home, his old hometown, would forever be on his mind. Even when drinking that wonderful wine, his dreams were always of home.
It saddens him to admit it, but he knows he isn’t worthy of living a life of ease in that wonderful palace.
“Ngah! This won’t do! I feel so lonesome!” Urashima croaks with something very close to despair. “Tortoise! Let me hear some of those spirited wisecracks of yours! You haven’t said a word since we left.” Which is true. The tortoise has been silently flapping his fins and forging doggedly ahead. “Are you angry? Angry because I’m leaving so suddenly, like a guest who eats and runs?”
“Don’t be neurotic. This is what I hate about you landlubbers. You want to leave, you leave. How many times have I told you that, from the very beginning? Anything you want to do is fine.”
“You do seem rather down in the mouth, though.”
“Look who’s talking. As for me, well, I don’t mind welcoming people, but seeing them off just isn’t my cup of tea.”