The Morning Immersion
Sunlight filters through the willow branches, dappling the surface of the Sumida River. In the shallows, where the reeds grow thick and green, the mud stirs.
A webbed hand breaks the surface. Green, scaled skin glistens in the morning light. The Kappa emerges. Standing roughly the size of a human child, he looks like a turtle standing upright, complete with a shell on his back and a beak for a mouth. But the most important feature sits atop his head.
There is a depression in his skull, a shallow bowl filled with river water. This is the sara, the source of his strength. As long as it is full, he possesses the strength of ten men. If it spills, he becomes as weak and helpless as a dehydrated frog.
Carefully, he dips his head, refreshing the water. The cool liquid invigorates him. He feels the current of the river in his veins. He is not just swimming in the water. He is part of it.
The Cucumber Harvest
Hunger gnaws at his belly. While he enjoys the taste of human liver (a delicacy he usually saves for special occasions), his daily staple is far humbler. He craves cucumbers.
Slipping out of the river, he waddles up the bank towards a nearby vegetable patch. He moves with a surprising, jerky speed, his webbed feet slapping against the wet earth.
The farmer has been careless. A basket of freshly picked cucumbers sits by the shed.
The Kappa’s eyes widen. He loves the crunch, the cool juice, the green freshness. Snatching two large cucumbers, he retreats to the water's edge before the farmer can spot him.
Sitting on a rock, he crunches loudly. Juice runs down his beak. He is happy. For a moment, he is just a simple creature enjoying a simple meal, not a monster of legend.
The Challenge
By midday, the heat is oppressive. Travelers walk along the riverbank, fanning themselves, looking hot and weary.
The Kappa spots a samurai—or at least, a ronin wandering with a sword at his hip. The man looks strong. The Kappa feels the itch of competition. He loves sumo almost as much as he loves cucumbers.
He leaps from the water, landing on the path with a wet thud. The ronin jumps back, hand flying to his sword hilt.
"Wait!" the Kappa croaks. His voice sounds like bubbles bursting in mud. "Do not draw steel. I seek only sport."
He bows. It is a deep, formal bow, full of respect.
The ronin, bound by etiquette, bows back.
This is the trick. As the man bows, he keeps his eyes on the creature. But the Kappa, cunning as he is, knows the geometry of the body. He watches the man's center of gravity.
"Sumo!" the Kappa challenges, slapping his thighs.
The ronin hesitates, then grins. He sees a small, green child. He thinks this will be easy. He steps forward, assuming a stance.
They collide. The man expects to toss the creature aside. Instead, he hits a wall of muscle. The Kappa grunts, digging his webbed toes into the dirt. With a twist of his hips, he leverages the man's weight against him. The ronin flies through the air, landing in the river with a spectacular splash.
The Kappa laughs—a high, chittering sound. He has won. The sara remains level, not a drop spilled.
The Code of Politeness
The ronin sputters to the surface, coughing up river water. He looks furious. He wades to the bank, gripping his scabbard.
The Kappa stops laughing. He knows when a game turns dangerous. He needs a failsafe.
"Sir!" he calls out. "You are wet. Let me help."
He bows again, this time so low his beak almost touches the dust.
The ronin, angry but ingrained with the habits of a lifetime, instinctively bows back.
Splash.
The water in the Kappa’s sara pours out onto the ground.
Instantly, the strength leaves him. His limbs turn to jelly. He collapses, panting. He is paralyzed, vulnerable.
The ronin freezes. He sees the creature helpless. He raises his fist, then stops. The creature defeated him fairly in sport, and now, by his own adherence to politeness, he has disarmed it. To strike now would be dishonorable.
"You are a strange demon," the ronin mutters. He reaches down, not to strike, but to his water flask. He pours a trickle of water onto the Kappa’s head, refilling the bowl.
The Return
Strength rushes back into the Kappa’s limbs. He leaps up, revitalized.
"You have saved me," the Kappa says. "I owe you a debt."
He dives into the river and returns a moment later, holding a fish—a large, fat carp. He offers it to the ronin.
"For your dinner."
The ronin takes the fish, bewildered. The Kappa bows one last time, careful not to spill his water, and slips back into the depths.
The River at Dusk
Night falls. The fireflies come out, dancing over the surface of the water. The Kappa floats on his back, looking up at the moon.
The river is his home, his gym, his hunting ground. He is a monster, yes. He has drowned children and horses in the past. But he is also a creature of rules, of honor, and of simple appetites.
He drifts with the current, listening to the frogs. Tomorrow, he might drown a horse. Or he might just eat another cucumber. It all depends on how the water flows.
