The Frog and the Scorpion – A Story told by Bayushi Gawahime
This is an old story: one of the oldest, in fact. It is the first story I ever learned, and I will tell it to you now.
It is said that when the Children of Sun and Moon held their great contest to see who would rule, Bayushi stood by and watched his brothers and sisters fight, saw Shinsei and approached him.
Bayushi said, “Little master, I have a question for you.”
Shinsei said nothing, only focused on the contest.
Bayushi continued. “I hope to win the contest, but I do not know if my strategy will carry me through.”
“There is more than one way to win the contest,” Shinsei said.
Bayushi sat down next to Shinsei and began.
“There was once a little frog who lived by the river side. One day, a scorpion wandered by and asked the little frog if he would carry him across the river.”
Bayushi smiled. “I know this story, little master.”
Shinsei frowned. “Are you sure?” He waited for a moment, still watching the contest. Bayushi fell silent and waited for him to continue.
“The scorpion said to the frog, ‘Carry me across the river.’ The frog said, ‘I will not. For if I do, you will sting me.’ The scorpion said, ‘I will not. For if I do, we will both drown.’”
Bayushi nodded impatiently. “Yes, yes. I have heard this story.”
Shinsei frowned again. “Are you sure?” He waited for a moment, still watching the contest. Bayushi fell silent again and waited for him to continue.
“The frog saw wisdom in the scorpion’s words, so he let her climb on his back and began swimming across the river. About halfway across, he felt a painful sting to his back…”
“Yes, yes! I know this story!” Bayushi exclaimed.
Finally, Shinsei turned from the contest and looked into Bayushi’s eyes.
Bayushi fell silent. “I am sorry, little master. Please continue.”
Shinsei turned his eyes back to the contest. “The frog felt the scorpion’s poison flow into his heart, and as death closed in on him, they both began to sink into the cold water.” Shinsei paused a moment, but Bayushi remained silent. “Just before his nose slipped under the waves, the frog said, “Scorpion, now we will both drown!” But the scorpion smiled…” Shinsei paused again and turned to look at Bayushi “…and she said, ‘But, little frog, I can swim.’”
Bayushi sat next to Shinsei, his face showing his stunned surprise. Then, slowly, he began to smile. “I understand, little master.”
Shinsei suddenly delivered a swift strike from his walking stick against Bayushi’s mouth. His lips broke and blood sprayed. Bayushi leapt to his feet and put his hands to his face.
“Why did you do that?” he said through his smashed lips.
“Pain is the liar’s only reward. Your face told me one thing and your eyes told me another. I had to reward one of the two, so I chose to reward your lying face.”
Bayushi stood in silence as his blood trickled onto the earth.
And slowly – painfully – he smiled. He ripped a piece of cloth from his robe, wrapped it about his face, walked into the contest…and lost on purpose.
Then, he returned to Shinsei and bowed low to the little master.
Shinsei nodded. “Now you know how to swim.”
It is said that when the Children of Sun and Moon held their great contest to see who would rule, Bayushi stood by and watched his brothers and sisters fight, saw Shinsei and approached him.
Bayushi said, “Little master, I have a question for you.”
Shinsei said nothing, only focused on the contest.
Bayushi continued. “I hope to win the contest, but I do not know if my strategy will carry me through.”
“There is more than one way to win the contest,” Shinsei said.
Bayushi sat down next to Shinsei and began.
“There was once a little frog who lived by the river side. One day, a scorpion wandered by and asked the little frog if he would carry him across the river.”
Bayushi smiled. “I know this story, little master.”
Shinsei frowned. “Are you sure?” He waited for a moment, still watching the contest. Bayushi fell silent and waited for him to continue.
“The scorpion said to the frog, ‘Carry me across the river.’ The frog said, ‘I will not. For if I do, you will sting me.’ The scorpion said, ‘I will not. For if I do, we will both drown.’”
Bayushi nodded impatiently. “Yes, yes. I have heard this story.”
Shinsei frowned again. “Are you sure?” He waited for a moment, still watching the contest. Bayushi fell silent again and waited for him to continue.
“The frog saw wisdom in the scorpion’s words, so he let her climb on his back and began swimming across the river. About halfway across, he felt a painful sting to his back…”
“Yes, yes! I know this story!” Bayushi exclaimed.
Finally, Shinsei turned from the contest and looked into Bayushi’s eyes.
Bayushi fell silent. “I am sorry, little master. Please continue.”
Shinsei turned his eyes back to the contest. “The frog felt the scorpion’s poison flow into his heart, and as death closed in on him, they both began to sink into the cold water.” Shinsei paused a moment, but Bayushi remained silent. “Just before his nose slipped under the waves, the frog said, “Scorpion, now we will both drown!” But the scorpion smiled…” Shinsei paused again and turned to look at Bayushi “…and she said, ‘But, little frog, I can swim.’”
Bayushi sat next to Shinsei, his face showing his stunned surprise. Then, slowly, he began to smile. “I understand, little master.”
Shinsei suddenly delivered a swift strike from his walking stick against Bayushi’s mouth. His lips broke and blood sprayed. Bayushi leapt to his feet and put his hands to his face.
“Why did you do that?” he said through his smashed lips.
“Pain is the liar’s only reward. Your face told me one thing and your eyes told me another. I had to reward one of the two, so I chose to reward your lying face.”
Bayushi stood in silence as his blood trickled onto the earth.
And slowly – painfully – he smiled. He ripped a piece of cloth from his robe, wrapped it about his face, walked into the contest…and lost on purpose.
Then, he returned to Shinsei and bowed low to the little master.
Shinsei nodded. “Now you know how to swim.”
