The Old Man Who Lost His Lump

The Old Man Who Lost His Lump

Long ago in Japan, there lived a kind old man with a round lump on his right cheek. The lump did not change who he was. He was still a good neighbor, a careful worker, and a cheerful husband. But it sometimes bothered him, and for many years he had wished it would disappear. He asked healers for advice. He tried poultices, teas, and every gentle remedy anyone suggested. Nothing helped. At last he decided not to let the lump fill his thoughts. He had wood to chop, a home to tend, and music to enjoy. For the old man loved music and dancing. Even when he was alone, he sometimes tapped a rhythm with his foot while sweeping the path or carrying water from the well. One autumn morning, the woodpile beside his house grew low. The old man took his axe and walked into the hills. The day began bright and clear. Fallen leaves rustled beneath his sandals, and the forest smelled of pine bark and rain-soaked earth. He worked slowly, gathering a good bundle of firewood. By late afternoon, he was ready to go home. Then the sky darkened. A few cold drops struck his sleeve. Thunder rolled across the mountains. Before he had gone ten steps, rain came pouring down in sheets. “Well,” the old man said, pulling his hat low, “that is the end of a peaceful walk.” He looked about and saw an ancient tree with a hollow near its roots. It was just large enough to shelter him. He tucked himself inside and waited for the storm to pass. The rain drummed on the leaves. Lightning flashed between the hills. The old man sat very still in the hollow, listening to the thunder grow farther away. At last the rain stopped. A pale evening light spread over the wet grass. The old man was about to climb out when he heard footsteps. “Perhaps travelers are coming along the path,” he thought. He peered through a crack in the bark and nearly held his breath. Across the clearing came a procession of oni, the lively mountain spirits of old tales. Some were tall, some small. They wore bright robes and had curious horns and broad smiles. A few carried drums. Others carried flutes or baskets filled with treats. The old man quickly hid again. The oni gathered beneath the tree, just a few steps away. They spread cloths on the grass, set out their food, and began to make music. Drums boomed. Flutes trilled. Hands clapped in time. Soon several oni began to dance. At first the old man watched with wide eyes. Then he forgot to be frightened. The music was too good, and the dancers were too entertaining. “That one is rushing the beat,” he whispered. “And that turn comes too soon.” When one dancer made a familiar step, the old man’s toes began to move on their own. The leader of the oni yawned happily and called out, “Has no one brought us a new dance tonight?” The old man felt his heart leap. He had loved dancing since he was young. Part of him said, Stay hidden. Another part said, Music like this may not come again. Before he could change his mind, he stepped into the clearing. The drums stopped. “A human!” said one oni. The old man bowed politely. “If you do not mind, I would like to dance a little.” The leader’s eyes sparkled. “Then dance!” The musicians began again. The old man did not dance to win a prize. He did not dance to show anyone how clever he was. The rain had washed the forest clean, the evening air smelled fresh, and the music made him glad to be alive. He stepped lightly, then spun. He paused in a funny pose, making the oni laugh, and then sprang back into the rhythm. He moved as though every drumbeat knew his name. The oni clapped and cheered. “Again!” cried one. “Wonderful!” shouted another. “What a dancer!” said the leader. When the old man finished, he was smiling and out of breath. The leader of the oni came forward. “Come back tomorrow night,” he said. “Our gathering will not be as merry without you.” “If I can, I will,” said the old man. “Then leave us something as a promise that you will return.” The oni considered what might serve as a pledge. One noticed the lump on the old man’s cheek. “Perhaps we can keep that,” the spirit said. “He will surely come back for it.” The leader reached out and touched the old man’s cheek as gently as a falling leaf. To the old man’s astonishment, the lump came away without pain. He touched his face. His cheek was smooth. The oni laughed with delight, wished him good night, and vanished into the deepening twilight. The old man hurried home, sometimes touching his cheek, sometimes dancing a few steps along the path. His wife had begun to worry. “Where have you been?” she asked. “It is a long story,” he said, grinning. “It has a storm, an old tree, a whole company of oni, and a great deal of dancing.” He told her everything. The next morning, a neighbor heard the tale. This neighbor had a lump on his left cheek and had long wished to lose it. “Show me the tree,” he demanded. “If the oni helped you, they will help me too.” The old man explained the way. Then he added, “They did not care about my cheek. They liked the dance.” But the neighbor scarcely listened. “A dance is a dance,” he said. “How hard can it be?” That evening, he hid inside the same hollow tree. Soon the oni returned to the clearing with their drums, flutes, and baskets. “Where is the dancer from last night?” asked their leader. The neighbor burst from the hollow at once. “Here I am!” The oni assumed that he was the same old man. “Then dance!” they said. But the neighbor had never enjoyed dancing. He had not learned the steps, and he had not come for the music. He only wanted the same good fortune that had happened to someone else. He began to jump, wave his arms, and stamp his feet without finding the rhythm. The more he tried to look impressive, the more tangled his movements became. The oni glanced at one another. “This is not the dance we saw yesterday,” whispered one. “Perhaps our guest is tired,” said another. The leader sighed. “Let us return the pledge he left with us. Then he may rest.” He took out the lump from the night before and tossed it lightly toward the neighbor. Puff! It fastened itself to the neighbor’s right cheek. The neighbor stood quite still. Now he had a lump on each side of his face. The oni, believing they had done exactly as promised, packed up their feast and disappeared among the trees. The neighbor walked home slowly. The next morning he went to see the kind old man. “Now I understand what you meant,” he said with a deep sigh. “I thought I could copy what you did and receive the same luck.” The old man did not laugh at him. “It is hard to copy another person’s happiness,” he said. “The oni gave me a gift because I danced for the joy of it. I was not asking them for anything.” The neighbor nodded. From then on, he spent less time wishing for what others had and more time discovering what he himself truly liked to do. As for the kind old man, he never forgot that strange evening after the storm. Whenever distant drums echoed from the hills, he smiled and tapped his foot to the rhythm.

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨