“Ear of rice,” Ojii-san says in the usual mumble.
“An ear of rice? At this time of year? Where did you find it?”
“I didn’t find it,” he says in a low undertone. He opens a book and begins to read silently.
“There’s something funny going on. All you do these days is walk about in the bamboo forest and then come home with your head in the clouds, and why are you acting so smug today? Bringing that thing back with you and making such a fuss over it, sticking it in your brush stand—you’re hiding something from me, aren’t you? If you didn’t find it, where did it come from? Why not just tell me the truth?”
“I got it at the Sparrows Inn,” Ojii-san snaps.
But the pragmatic Obaa-san is not about to be satisfied with an answer like that. She continues to grill her husband with question after question. Ojii-san, incapable of lying, has no choice but to tell her all about his wondrous experience.
“Good heavens. Are you serious?” Obaa-san says with a disparaging laugh when her husband has finished the story.
Ojii-san isn’t answering any more. He rests his cheek on his hand and pores over the book on his desk.
“Do you really expect me to believe that nonsense? It’s obvious that you’re lying. Recently—yes, ever since around the time your young lady friend came to visit—you’re a different person, always fidgeting and sighing like a lovesick mooncalf. It’s disgraceful—a man your age—and there’s no sense trying to hide it. I can tell! Where does she live? Not in the middle of the bamboo forest, I’m sure of that much. ‘There’s a house deep in the forest inhabited by little ladies who look like life-size dolls’—oh, sure! I wasn’t born yesterday, you know. If it’s true, why don’t you bring back a gift basket next time? You can’t, can you? After all, you made it all up. I might not doubt you if you came home from this ‘marvelous inn’ with one of those big baskets on your shoulders, but to take an old ear of rice and say it’s the doll girl’s hairpin—how do you come up with this rubbish? Confess like a man. I’m not a narrow-minded person. What do I care about a mistress or two?”
“I hate carrying things.”
“Oh, I see. Well, shall I go in your place, then? How would that be? All I have to do is lie face down at the entrance to the forest, correct? I’ll go right now. Or are you afraid it won’t work?”
“You should go.”
“What nerve you have. Telling me I should go, when it’s all a big, transparent lie! All right, then, I’m really going to do it. You’re sure it’s all right with you?”
“Well, you do seem to want that basket...”
“Yes, yes, that’s right—all I care about is the gift. I’m such a greedy person, after all. Ha! I know it’s ridiculous, but here I go! I can’t bear the sight of you sitting there looking so smug. I’ll wipe that holier-than-thou expression from your face. Just wait and see. Lie face down in the snow and you get to go to the Sparrows Inn—ah, ha, ha, ha! It’s ridiculous, but, oh well—I’ll just follow your exact instructions. Don’t try to tell me later that you were only kidding!”
There’s no backing down now. Obaa-san puts away her sewing and wades off into the deep snow of the bamboo forest.
As to what happens next, not even the author knows exactly. At dusk, Obaa-san’s cold body is found face down in the snow with an enormous wicker basket strapped to her back. Apparently the basket was too heavy to get out from under when she awoke, and she froze to death. The basket turns out to be chock-full of sparkling gold coins.
Whether or not it’s because of all that gold, Ojii-san soon enters government service and is eventually promoted to Minister of State. The public refer to him as the “Sparrow Minister” and attribute his success to his long-standing affection for those birds. But whenever Ojii-san is subjected to such flattery, he is said to reply, with only a hint of his famous wry smile, “No, no. I owe it all to my late wife. I put that poor woman through hell.”