Long ago, there was a large plain called Adachigahara. It was a beautiful piece of nature; The birds sang a pretty tune as the wind rustled through the tall grass, and the sakura trees seemed to dance with their pretty colors. But as beautiful as it was, there was a tone of eeriness that followed.
One day, as the sun was setting, a priest had come to the plain. He had a robe on which showed that he was a Buddhist pilgrim who would go to temples to pray for blessings. He had apparently lost his way and didn’t have anyone to ask for directions because of the late hours. He had been walking for a few hours and the autumn breeze started traveling through his body, almost like they were holding him back. His hunger and thirst only grew as the time passed by. He decided that he couldn’t go any longer. He layed down and began to pray to Buddha asking him for hope. As soon as he got up, he saw a stray light ahead. He slowly walked toward the light to see a cottage ahead of him. As he drew closer to it, he saw that it was in tumbledown condition. The bamboo fence was broken and weeds and grass pushed their way through the gaps. The paper screens which serve as windows and doors were full of holes, and the posts of the house were bent with age and seemed scarcely able to support the old thatched roof.
He saw that a door was open in one of the small huts and a small old lady was inside, tending a fire. The priest called out to the woman and said: “Hello, good evening! I am a
