Prologue - Two

by Ryunosuke Akutagawa · 2026-03-31

This is the story of a patient at a mental hospital, commonly known as "Number Twenty-Three." He should be over thirty, but at first glance, he looks like a youthful madman. It doesn't matter now to talk about his life experiences. He simply sat quietly, hugging his knees, occasionally staring out the window. Outside the barred window, there is a single oak tree without a single withered leaf, spreading its branches toward the snow-clouded sky.

Dr. S, the director, and I listened as he continued to talk at length. It wasn't that he didn't use gestures; when he said "surprised," he suddenly tilted his head back.

I tried to record his story as accurately as possible. If anyone is not satisfied with my notes, they should visit the S Mental Hospital located in XX village outside of Tokyo. Number Twenty-Three, who looks younger than his age, will first politely bow and point to a chair without a futon. Then, with a melancholic smile, he will quietly repeat this story. I remember the expression on his face when he finished his tale. He would sit up and immediately start swinging his fists, yelling at anyone, "Get out! You scoundrel! You must be a foolish, jealous, obscene, brazen, conceited, cruel, and selfish animal too. Get out! You scoundrel!"

It was three summers ago. I was carrying a backpack and tried to climb Mount Hotaka from the hot spring inn in Kamikochi. To climb Mount Hotaka, one must ascend the Azusa River. Having climbed Mount Hotaka and Yari Mountain before, I made my way up the misty valley of the Azusa River without a guide. However, the mist seemed like it would never clear. Rather, it only grew deeper.

After walking for about an hour, I thought about turning back to the hot spring inn in Kamikochi, but I had to wait for the mist to clear. However, the mist deepened with each passing moment. Thinking, "I might as well keep climbing," I proceeded through the bear grass without leaving the valley of the Azusa River.

However, what blocked my view was indeed only the deep fog. Occasionally, I could see thick branches of the hairy oak and fir drooping with lush leaves from within the fog. Also, the grazing horses and cows suddenly appeared right in front of me, but quickly hid back into the mist. My legs grew tired, my stomach began to grow hungry, and I started to feel the weight of my wet and soaked climbing clothes and blanket. Finally, I gave in and decided to descend into the Azusa River valley, relying on the sound of water rushing over the rocks.

I sat down on a rock by the water's edge and began to eat. I opened a can of corned beef and gathered dry twigs to start a fire, and about ten minutes passed. During that time, the malicious fog had begun to clear slightly. While nibbling on bread, I checked my watch. It was already past one twenty, but what surprised me more was that a creepy face briefly cast a shadow over the glass of my round watch. Startled, I turned around, and there was a kappa. It was holding onto a birch trunk with one hand and shading its eyes with the other, looking down at me curiously.

I was stunned and couldn't move for a while. The kappa seemed surprised as well, not even moving the hand over its eyes. After a moment, I leaped towards the kappa on the rock. At the same time, the kappa also fled. No, it didn't run away; it deftly dodged and instantly disappeared somewhere. Looking around in surprise among the bear grass, I saw the kappa crouching, glancing back at me from a distance of two or three meters. That wasn't strange, but what was unexpected was the color of the kappa's body. The kappa I saw on the rock was gray, but now it had completely changed to green.

"Damn it!" I shouted loudly and lunged at the kappa once more. The kappa naturally ran away. I continued to chase the kappa desperately for about thirty minutes, pushing through the bear grass and jumping over rocks.

Kappa are also fast on their feet and are certainly not inferior to monkeys. While I was chasing them in a frenzy, I lost sight of them many times and even slipped and fell. However, when I came under a large oak tree, I was fortunate to find a cow grazing that blocked the kappa's path. It was a bull with thick horns and bloodshot eyes. When the kappa saw the bull, it let out a scream and jumped into the tall bear grass. I thought to myself, "This is it," and suddenly chased after it. Then, there must have been a hole I didn't know about. The moment my fingertips touched the smooth back of the kappa, I tumbled into a deep darkness.

The human mind tends to think of unimaginable things even in such life-threatening moments. The moment I thought "Ah," I remembered that there is a bridge called "Kappa Bridge" near the hot spring inn in Kamikochi. I don't remember what happened after that. Just at the moment I felt something like lightning in front of me, I had somehow lost my sanity.

Before long, I suddenly realized that I was lying on my back, surrounded by many kappa. Furthermore, one kappa with a thick beak and a nose ring knelt beside me and placed a stethoscope on my chest. When that kappa saw that I had opened my eyes, it signaled for silence with its hand. Then, it called out to another kappa behind it, saying "Quax, quax." Suddenly, two kappa came walking with a stretcher from somewhere. I was placed on that stretcher and quietly moved a few blocks through the crowd of kappa. The towns on both sides of me were no different from Ginza Street. Various shops set up awnings in the shadows of the zelkova tree-lined street, and several cars were running between them.

Eventually, the stretcher turned into a narrow alley and was carried into a house. It was a house I later learned belonged to the kappa with the nose ring, in other words, the doctor named Chuck. Chuck laid me down on a neat bed and made me drink a glass of transparent medicine. I lay on the bed, allowing Chuck to do as he pleased. In fact, my body was in so much pain that I could hardly move my joints.

Chuck came to examine me two or three times a day without fail. Also, about once every three days, the first kappa I had seen, a fisherman named Baggu, would visit. The kappas know much more about us humans than we know about them. This is likely because kappas often capture humans more than we capture kappas. Although it may not be accurate to say "capture," we humans have come to the kappa's country many times before me. Moreover, many have lived in the kappa's country for their entire lives. This is because we are not just kappas, but humans, and we can eat without working due to this privilege. In fact, according to Baggu, a young road worker who accidentally came to this country later married a female kappa and lived there until he died. This female kappa was said to be the most beautiful in the country and also had a talent for cleverly deceiving her husband, the road worker.

About a week later, according to the laws of this country, I became a "special protected resident" living next to Chuck. My house, though small, was very stylishly done. Of course, the civilization of this country is not much different from the civilization of our human country, at least not from that of Japan. In the corner of the guest room facing the street, there was a small piano, and the walls were decorated with framed etchings. However, since the dimensions of the house, as well as the table and chairs, were adjusted to the height of the kappas, it felt as if I were in a child's room, which was somewhat inconvenient.

I always welcomed Chuck and Bag in this room as dusk approached, and I learned the words of the kappa. No, it wasn't just them. Everyone was curious about me, a specially protected resident, so even Geer, the president of the glass company who called Chuck every day to check my blood pressure, showed his face in this room. However, during the first half month, the one who became closest to me was indeed that fisherman named Bag.

On a warm evening, I was facing the fisherman Bag across the table in this room. Suddenly, Bag fell silent, widening his big eyes even more as he stared intently at me. I found it strange and said, "Quax, Bag, quo quel, quan?" This translates to Japanese as, "Hey, Bag, what's wrong?" However, Bag did not respond. Furthermore, he suddenly stood up, stuck out his tongue, and showed signs of jumping at me like a frog. I became increasingly uneasy and quietly stood up from my chair, trying to leap to the door to escape. Just then, fortunately, the doctor Chuck showed his face.

"Hey, Bag, what are you doing?"

Chuck glared at Bag while still wearing his nose glasses. Then, Bag seemed to be frightened and repeatedly put his hand to his head, apologizing to Chuck.

"I am very sorry. Actually, it was amusing that this gentleman was scared, so I got carried away and played a prank. Please forgive me, sir."