The Thunder God Sombatsu

Long ago, in a mountain village, there lived an old man and his granddaughter. They lived in poverty, their only wealth being a tiny patch of land, no bigger than a cat’s forehead.

Every morning, the grandfather and granddaughter would go to their field and work from dawn till dusk. Though the field was small, it provided for them—sometimes with radishes, sometimes with melons, and sometimes with beans.

One day, the old man decided to plant radishes. His granddaughter agreed.

"I really love radishes, Grandpa," she said. "If they grow well, we won’t go hungry this winter."

They tilled the soil and began sowing the seeds, chanting: "Radish, radish, sprout! Radish, radish, grow big! Grow large to bring joy to Grandpa and granddaughter!"

They planted the seeds and waited for the leaves to appear.

A few days later, they saw their field turn green. The grandfather and granddaughter rejoiced:

"Look how many radishes will grow! We won’t fear winter now!"

It was time to water the radishes. The old man and his granddaughter began going to the stream, but the path was long and steep, all downhill. They would fill a bucket and carry it back uphill. But trouble arose: as soon as they watered the field, the radish leaves would tremble as if begging, "Drink! Drink!" So, the old man and his granddaughter spent the whole day fetching water.

Then one day, they went down to the stream and were stunned—the stream had dried up. The granddaughter was heartbroken and began to cry:

"What will become of us now? Our radishes will wither, and we’ll starve!"

The old man thought and thought about where to find water, and then he came up with an idea:

"Let’s go to Mount Toga. The god Sombutsu lives there."

"The god Sombutsu?" the granddaughter asked, surprised. "Who is that?"

"He’s a very important god, the god of thunder," the grandfather replied. "All the rains in the world depend on him. If he wishes, he sends hail and downpours to the earth."

"Well, if he’s so important and can help us, let’s go," the granddaughter sighed.

They set off for Mount Toga. The mountain path wound higher and higher.

"How much farther?" the granddaughter asked.

"Once we pass the grove, we’re almost there," the grandfather replied. Finally, they reached the mountain.

"Well, here we are," the old man said.

The granddaughter looked around, confused. At the summit stood a rock, and beneath it was a pit.

"What’s this?" the granddaughter wondered. "Is this rock really the great thunder god Sombutsu?"

"Yes," the grandfather answered. "This is the god Sombutsu. It’s a sacred rock."

He bowed deeply to the rock, sat down beside it, and folded his hands in prayer.

"God Sombutsu, send rain to our field," the old man pleaded.

"Help us, kind god Sombutsu, our radishes are dying. Save us from hunger!" the granddaughter begged.

They sat there for a long time, but the god Sombutsu did not answer.

The next day, they returned to the rock, and again, the god Sombutsu said nothing. Meanwhile, the radishes had wilted, their leaves drooping, on the verge of death.

On the eighth day, the grandfather and granddaughter woke up to find the sky clear, without a single cloud.

"It seems the great thunder god Sombutsu isn’t as kind as people say," the old man grumbled. "He doesn’t want to hear our prayers."

But there was nothing else to do. They went back to the sacred rock and pleaded again:

"Have mercy on us, god Sombutsu, send us even a little rain! Water our field! Save our radishes!"

The rock remained silent, and the thunder god Sombutsu gave no reply. This time, the old man grew truly angry and shouted:

"People lie when they say you can help! You’re no god—you’re a fraud!"

He picked up a stone from the ground and hurled it at the rock. The stone rolled down and fell into the pit at the base of the rock.

The rock began to rumble and shake, and a hoarse voice came from the pit:

"Who dares throw stones at me? Who dares disturb my sleep? I’ll show you!"

The grandfather and granddaughter were terrified.

"Oh, save us!" they cried, running away from the rock. Then the old man said:

"Forgive me, great thunder god Sombutsu, for throwing a stone at you. But I can’t bear your silence any longer. For eight days, we’ve come to you, begging for rain. And you’ve said nothing."

As he spoke, the rock stopped shaking.

"Eight days, you say?" the thunder god asked. "Well, forgive me, forgive me! You see, you’ve been coming during the day. I love to nap during the day, and I sleep so soundly that I don’t hear a thing. Don’t be angry, forgive me!"

"Alright," the old man replied, "I’m not angry. But will you send rain to our field now?"

"Why wouldn’t I?" the thunder god laughed. "What’s there to spare?"

He took a deep breath, shook off his drowsiness, and shouted:

"Hey, my faithful servants, wake up! There’s work to be done!"

Something rumbled deep in the pit, and then smoke began to rise. The smoke drifted into the sky, and suddenly, thunder spirits appeared, sitting on their clouds, countless in number.

"Wow!" the grandfather and granddaughter exclaimed. "So this is how rain is made!"

"Hey, don’t just sit there!" the thunder god Sombutzu shouted at the spirits. "Give their field a good soaking!"

The thunder spirits heard the command and immediately got to work—they began pounding their drums on the clouds with all their might. Thunder rumbled, lightning flashed, dark clouds covered the sky, and a downpour began.

"Ah, this is good!" the older thunder spirits shouted.

"Hey, give it more!" the younger ones cried.

The grandfather and granddaughter rejoiced at the rain. They thanked the thunder god and hurried home. When they reached their field, they saw their radishes standing tall, their leaves green and their white heads poking out of the soil. That year, they harvested a magnificent crop.

And from that time on, a tradition began in those parts: whenever a dry summer came, the village boys would go to Mount Toga to the thunder god Sombutsu. They would throw a stone into the deep pit—and the god would wake from his sleep. The elders say that after this, rain always follows.

↑ To the top

The Thunder God Sombatsu

More fairy tales