The Old Woman Heroine

Mochi (Omochi) - a dish made from Japanese rice. The cooked rice is placed in a wooden tub and pounded for a long time with a special mallet (pestle). The result is a delicious, homogeneous, white, sticky mass. If this mass is dried, it can be stored for a very long time. After storage, it is held over a fire until it begins to puff up, resulting in something incredibly tasty. Traditionally, before the New Year, the Japanese prepare omochi (mochi), shape it into a loaf, place it in the tokonoma (a kind of sacred alcove in the home), and hang a beautiful scroll with good wishes above it. The New Year's omochi (mochi) is eaten on January 7th.

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In ancient times, there lived a kind old woman in a village. She looked as frail as a reed, but she possessed the strength of a hero. And here’s the wonder: years passed, but her strength never waned.

She lived all alone and did everything around the house herself: she worked all day in the rice fields, and in the mornings, she went to the mountains to uproot old stumps for firewood.

One autumn day, the old woman went to the forest. Just as she grabbed a mighty stump, she heard someone calling her:

"Granny, granny, help! A horse loaded with sacks of rice has fallen from the bridge into the river!" She saw people rushing toward her from the village.

"A horse doesn’t fall from the bridge if it has good owners," replied the old woman. "Alright, I’ll help." She threw down the uprooted stump and ran to the village with the peasants. She saw the horse struggling under the bridge. The old woman jumped into the water, lifted the horse, and placed it back on the bridge.

"Here’s your horse, safe and sound," she said. "And in the future, be more careful when it crosses a shaky bridge."

That old woman was truly kind. And so, she often heard cries of, "Help us, granny!" or "Save us, granny!"

Autumn came to an end. The New Year was approaching. The villagers began preparing for the holiday—baking rice cakes, mochi. In every home, work was in full swing. Some pounded rice in mortars with pestles, while others used mills that buzzed and hummed. The people were joyful. The old woman also kneaded dough and made golden-brown mochi. Then she went to her neighbors to see if anyone needed help: pounding rice with a pestle or turning a mill was no joke—it required strength! The old woman helped many, and it brought her joy, and the people were grateful.

The sound of pestles and mills echoed far and wide, even reaching the depths of the underworld. The chief minister of demons sat in the underworld, listening:

"What is this strange sound coming from the earth?" he asked.
"The peasants are pounding rice with pestles—they’re preparing for the New Year," his nobles replied.
The chief minister thought for a moment and said,
"Few people have died on earth this year. In the past, the deceased would bring us so many treats for the journey! But this year, no one has brought us mochi from the earth. How will we celebrate the New Year?"

The nobles sighed—what could they do? The chief minister thought and thought about where to get rice mochi, and finally said,
"Send out a call across the underworld! Let all the demons gather here! I have a task for them."
At the chief minister’s command, demons of all sizes gathered.

"We’re without New Year’s mochi this year," the chief minister lamented and ordered, "Go to the earth and fetch some golden-brown mochi for me and Lord Enma of the underworld. It’s not right to celebrate without them!"

"As you command," the demons replied and immediately set off.
They emerged on earth and scattered in different directions. Among them was a strong demon, unmatched in strength in the entire underworld. As fate would have it, he ended up in the very village where the heroic old woman lived.

The demon climbed a mountain overlooking the village and shouted,
"Hey, you little people, tremble! The mighty demon from the underworld has come!"
The people were terrified and hid in their homes.
"Save us, fate," they prayed.
The demon descended into the village—no one was around. He had to knock on doors.

"Don’t be afraid of me," he said. "I won’t harm you. That’s not why I’m here. Come out quickly and bring me your New Year’s mochi!"

The people were surprised:
"Why do you need mochi? Do you celebrate the New Year in the underworld too?"
Then they asked,
"How can we give them to you? The holiday is soon, and we won’t have time to make more."

"What do I care?" the demon replied. "I said bring them, so bring them!"
The people began handing over their rice mochi, and those who didn’t come out were visited by the demon himself. Finally, it was the old woman’s turn. The demon peeked through her window and saw a tiny, frail-looking old woman sitting inside.

"Hey, old woman," the demon roared, "do you have New Year’s mochi?"
"Who is this rude person barging into someone else’s home?" the old woman replied.
"Who? Didn’t you hear me? I climbed the mountain and told everyone I’m the mighty demon from the underworld! Are you deaf?"
"I’m not deaf," the old woman retorted, "and you shouldn’t stand under my window shouting, or I really will go deaf."

The demon was stunned—no one on earth had ever spoken to him so boldly.
"Hey, old woman," he shouted again, "do you have New Year’s mochi?"
"Where would I get mochi?" the old woman replied. "There was a poor rice harvest this year."
"You’re lying!" the demon raged. "Everyone in the village had a harvest, but she alone, it seems, had none!"
"Don’t you know," the old woman smirked, "that New Year’s mochi must be made by hand, not taken by force from others? You won’t get my mochi, and you’ll return all the others too!"
"We’ll see about that!" the demon laughed.

The old woman stood up and moved closer to the window. The demon grabbed her hand—it was so thin, it looked almost transparent!
"Ha-ha-ha!" the demon bellowed. "What can you do, old woman, against me? You’re as frail as a straw. I’ll break you like a weak twig!"
"No one has ever called me a weak twig!" the old woman snapped. "Do you want to test my strength? Let’s arm-wrestle!"
"Fine," the demon agreed. "Just don’t let me crush you!"
He said this and stuck his arm through the window. The old woman grabbed the demon’s hand and squeezed. The demon winced.
"I see you have some strength," he said.
But the old woman squeezed harder. A bead of sweat appeared on the demon’s forehead.
"Well, demon, am I still weak?" the old woman asked.
"No, you’re not weak," the demon replied, a tear forming in his eye.
The old woman squeezed even harder. After all, she uprooted old stumps every day—that was harder work than wrestling a demon!

They struggled for a minute, then two… After five minutes, the demon begged,
"Wait, let me rest!"
"Why wait?" the old woman replied. "You can rest in the underworld."
The demon couldn’t take it anymore and cried,
"Alright, old woman, you’ve beaten me. Let go of my hand, or you’ll tear it off!"
"Well, well!" the old woman said in surprise. "In all my years, I’ve never seen a demon cry. I suppose I should let you go, or you won’t make it home. Leave our mochi and go in peace."

The demon sighed—what would he tell Lord Enma now? But his own life was more important!
He left the sack of New Year’s mochi under the old woman’s window and trudged away.
The old woman distributed the rice cakes to the villagers, and they went home to celebrate the New Year.

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The Old Woman Heroine

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