One day, the Mikado was wandering aimlessly within his gardens, in search of respite from a mind oppressed by stately concerns. He heaved a sigh, and turned to his attendant.

‘Have you any idea for entertainment?’

The servant shone with glee to be relied upon. ‘Shall I summon the musicians and dancers, My Liege?’

‘I’d rather you didn’t. There is enough noise as is.’

‘A play, perhaps?’

‘Only when writers get new ideas.’

The smile upon the attendant’s face nervously twitched. ‘A sports tournament?’

‘Noisy and barbaric-at least try things for which I have no established disinterest!’

‘Yes, My Liege’, he nodded sullenly. ‘How about reading, like always?’

The Mikado squeezed his forehead. ‘I’ve had enough of documents.’ He shook his head decisively. ‘Not today.’

The attendant lowered his gaze in shame for his uselessness, and weakly added, ‘How about an old-fashioned going-out?’

‘What's there to see?’ the Mikado muttered. ‘The sun goes up then down. There are mountains, forests and rivers. The End.’

‘But there is something new, My Liege!’ the servant excitedly remembered. ‘There is a beauty who has caused quite the stir in the land!’

‘You know I don’t care much for women.’

‘But My Liege, she’s not your usual woman! She has turned the heads of five of your most puissant princes!’

‘So she’s a little handsome.’

‘And she has turned them all down!’

The Mikado lifted his face. ‘Repeat that.’

‘She gave them impossible requests, and turned them all down!’ the servant cheered in the gladness of his attention. ‘One of them is even in critical condition for attempting to satisfy her!’

'What an uncommon girl', the Mikado said calmly.

The imperial entourage arrived that very day upon the doorsteps of the nouveau riche Taketori no Okina, who was the father of that maiden shrouded in myths and rumours. The unassuming old man jumped at the sight of his liege, and hurriedly arranged for the meeting with all the grandest formalities.

The Mikado was not very impressed with this man, nor his management of the situation. But he suspended judgement on account that he was merely the adopted father of the rumoured girl.

He arrived at the prepared chamber and seated himself with his attendants behind him. Music and formal introductions were all conducted. But before him was still only Taketori no Okina. The man anxiously turned round to the wooden screen behind him.

The most beautiful voice the Mikado had ever heard warbled through the slits of the screen. ‘I am here, father.’ It was a finer sound than ever the instruments of his court had produced. It was like a song of nature, unbridled of the synthetic pretences of man.

‘Princess,’ said Taketori nervously, ‘won't you come present yourself before the Mikado?’

‘There are certain rights, Father, that cannot be eschewed by power. Moreso if he is here to ask for my hand, for man must stand equally beside his woman.’

The Mikado’s servants were filled with indignation. ‘Impudent! This is the Mikado you are speaking of.’ ‘Positively outrageous!’ ‘Don’t be so full of yourself, wench.' 'The Mikado is beyond the lures of any vixen.’ ‘You must come out here this instance!’

‘It is fine!’ The Mikado silenced them. ‘I am no tyrant, whether I be visitor or suitor. It is enough that I hear her voice.’

‘But My Liege!’

‘You may leave us!’ He firmly commanded. And they shortly withdrew, in spite of their objections.

Taketori was equally bewildered by the situation, afraid he might have offended the Mikado. He peered behind the wooden screen to seek the counsel of his wiser daughter.

‘What do we do, Princess?’

But the Princess was caught in a reverie of her own. She had looked intently through the gaps of the screen until he'd disturbed her.

‘Should we go on?’ His round eyeball popped in at her wonderingly.

She quickly composed herself, ‘Yes, father.’

From behind the wooden screen, the beautiful voice rose again to the Mikado’s ears.

‘My Liege, if you truly desire my hand, then you must be willing to fulfill the conditions that I request of you.’

The Mikado smiled. ‘I am like any other man.’

‘Then I request of you the begging bowl of the Buddha.’

‘Not again!’ Taketori exclaimed, and his expression revealing great pity. He thought he had missed becoming the imperial father-in-law.

But the Mikado was confident. ‘I may or may not already possess the thing of which you ask, but it is you who must examine for yourself whether it is there.’

This brightened Taketori’s spirits again. ‘You have the Buddha’s bowl, My Liege?’

‘Like I have said, it is you who must examine it.’

‘Tell me where you have it, My Liege, and your humble servant will hasten to its examination!’ The old man stood up, and he motioned as though he was ready to hike up the mountains for bamboo.

‘It is right here.’

The enthusiasm simply fell from the old woodcutter's face. ‘Here?’

‘You may examine.’

‘But I don’t see-’

‘You are not capable of examining it, dearest Father’, the sweet voice interrupted him from behind. ‘I ask you to leave us alone that I may attempt to inspect it for myself.’

‘But Princess-’

‘Father’, she repeated in a reproving tone.

Taketori could only retreat from the scene, in his plaguing confusion. 

There was only the Mikado and Princess now.

‘Shall we go on?’ the Mikado asked.

‘Tell me,’ the Princess answered him from behind her veil, ‘what is the begging bowl of the Buddha that my Father cannot see it?’

The Mikado confidently smiled again. ‘Allow me to digress a little first, Princess.

‘The bowl of the Buddha is an object that was passed through the many generations of patriarchs in his succession, from Mahakasyapa to Ananda and onwards, as a symbol of spiritual inheritance, to reinforce the faith of the masses. This carried on until the Sixth Patriarch stated that the method had become incompatible with current mortal culture, that the bowl had become a token at the centre of a political conflict. He stated that he would hand over the begging bowl to none, and that there was only ever one thing of importance that had passed from the Buddha, that is the true begging bowl.

‘Your father does not see whether I have the begging bowl, for he does not have the begging bowl, Princess.’

‘You are very well-read’, the Princess replied after a pause.

‘Does that satisfy you?’

‘We shall see’, she replied and a curt, melodious giggle rose from behind the screen. ‘You have said that I must examine it after all.’

And the Mikado had a curt laugh. ‘Indeed.’

‘Shall I test it with another request?’

‘If necessary.’

‘I request a jewelled branch from the island of Penglai.’

The Mikado paused a bit. ‘I cannot fulfil your request at present, but I ask you to lend an ear to this proposal I have to go about acquiring it.’

‘You may speak freely.’

‘The Chinese Emperor in his search for the elixir of immortality, heeded bizarre alchemists who mixed diverse and poisonous metals such as mercury. However, I think they were mistaken, for their philosophy of the Dao speak of five elemental transformations coursing through nature, and through the living body, of which metal is one. I believe the metal that should have been mixed is within the body, not external to it, so that the body itself is rebuilt and becomes immortal. Penglai is another Daoist concept, and describes immortal lifespans, healing fruits and infinite feasts. Therefore I surmise that the trees of jewels is the body itself, once it has attained purity and release through ascetic efforts. A body I have to give you, but whether it is jewelled is yours to judge.’

The princess giggled again. ‘My Liege, do you mean to fulfil my request, or impress me with wordplay?’

‘I intend both, Princess.’

‘Shall I give you a third request?’

‘You are so very demanding.’

From behind her veil, the princess was beginning to feel a strange swelling within her bosom, making her hesitate. But she swallowed it down in her resolve.

‘I request of you the robe made of the hide of the fire-rat.’

Her words had an odd effect upon the Mikado. Though she could not observe his expression through the blinds, she could perceive the change in the air around him.

‘My Liege?’ she called out to him in concern.

Her gentle voice shook him out of his trance-like state. ‘I apologize, Princess. I spaced out for a moment. It must be exhaustion catching up to me.’

‘You needn’t apologize. Should I tell my father to arrange a resting place?’

‘It shan’t be necessary’, the Mikado quickly assured her. ‘Let me see, a fire-rat, now is it?’

‘Do you know of it?’ she hesitantly asked.

‘Yes,’ the Mikado answered her. ‘It is the creature that lives in the inferno in which the Tree of Infinity and Life takes root. It dwells only in the purest of fires, and dies in exposure to the slightest of cools.’

‘You are very wise, indeed’, the Princess said approvingly.

‘I am nothing’, the emperor humbly denied. ‘I've merely read of it--’

But here the strange feeling overcame the both of them again. ‘How strange. I don’t recall to reading what I have just told you.’

He ran his hand over his face, and squeezed his forehead in discomfort.

‘Milord?’

‘I am alright, Princess’, the Mikado nodded and waved at her. ‘Old but alright. May I employ the same reasoning as before?’

‘No, Milord, you are not alright’, she raised her tone concernedly and approached the edge of the wooden screen. ‘Let me call my father--’

‘I will brave the fires of hell for you,’ the Mikado resonantly declared, ‘for in so doing will I find true fire of life that has no limits.’ And the statement rang to the depths of her heart.

‘Is that not what you request of me?’ he added with a laugh. ‘Or do you not believe my words?’

She did not answer him.

She receded to her place behind the curtain that separated them. ‘I ask of you a fourth thing, Milord.’

‘Anything, my Princess.’

‘I request the jewel on neck of a dragon.’

This request made him pale in an entirely different way from the one earlier.

His abstracted gaze wandered the room, as he recalled from within his erudite reading.

‘The Buddha tells of his past life with a previous incarnation of Ananda. They were brother-ascetics, and Ananda reached a level of attainment where a great dragon appeared and befriended him. It enshrouded and protected him in magnificent aura, but hurt his skull as though splitting it apart. Ananda complained of the pain to his brother, whereupon the future Buddha told him that if he desired the magical jewel upon the dragon’s neck, then he would not come anymore, and the pain would stop.

‘Ananda did as he was instructed, and desired of the dragon his sacred jewel. The dragon was much displeased, and was driven away, explaining to Ananda that the jewel was its life, connecting it to the entire cosmos, and it was impossible to give to one who selfishly demanded it. So the request chased the dragon, as it was intended.’

He turned in the direction of the wooden screen. ‘Kings are often likened to dragons.’

The princess’s heart wrenched from inside her.

‘Milord--’

‘Are you not pleased with me, Princess?’ the Mikado raised his voice. It was a vulnerable voice. ‘Do you find me undesirable?’

The princess could not reply.

He rose from his seat. ‘Then I shall leave, as you have driven me away.’

But as he turned around, the wooden blinds lifted, and revealed to him the beautiful face of the maiden he had been speaking to. It revealed to him her anguish.

‘Please do not leave’, she called to him. ‘I beg you.’

Pearly tears were forming in the corner of her eyes.

‘I've waited so long to meet you’, she cried out. ‘Searched for so long.’

The Mikado came to her side. ‘Then why chase me away?’ he asked in equal agitation.

‘Because you have a purpose. I mustn’t selfishly take you from it.’

Her crying intensified as she dug into his broad chest. ‘But it hurts so much to part, now that we’ve finally reunited. Why do I feel so miserable?’

‘When the dragon was successfully driven away, Ananda still felt very pained, and his health worsened’, the Mikado playfully recited from memory.

It distracted a laugh out of her. ‘You’re always like this.’

‘Why do you speak of “always” and “reuniting”?’

But she parted from his embrace. ‘That does not matter now. What matters is you must leave me and return to the path on which you have embarked.’

The Mikado desperately called out after her. ‘Why must it be that way?’

But she only turned back and said, ‘Recall the meaning of the story you’ve told me.’

‘My Princess--’

She blessed him an angelic smile. ‘I’m always like this, too.’

Though reluctant, the Mikado recited the story again, every word falling heavily upon his heart as they were uttered.

‘The dragon is the dragon of universal wisdom. Ananda was reaching enlightenment, but deliverance was distasteful to his mortal passions, and pained him. When he indulged in selfish relief, the dragon disappeared, leaving him only pain, for it comes of his mortal being, not of his realizations.’

Once he had finished explaining, he felt his strength being sapped from within him, lowering his dispirited face to the ground.

‘You understand, Milord’, rose the princess's voice from beside him. ‘One must not be selfish.’

He gazed at her forbearing smile. At the wet lines upon her cheek.

‘Neither you nor I.’

‘May I ask a fifth and final thing?’

He laid his hands gently upon hers. ‘Anything, my Princess. You have already asked the most impossible.’

‘Then I request the cowrie of the swallows.’

The Mikado made a brief chuckle. ‘Is this the way we always are?’

‘Answer me’, the Princess urged with a smile.

He held her hand up to his ear. ‘A cowrie shell carries in it the song of the sea, a primal melody that eases the soul. I believe if swallows ever collect the shells, or indeed swallow them into their stomachs, it is a charm to help the eggs develop and hatch without incident.

‘So it is a symbol of the wish for a healthy birth.’

She took his other hand and pressed it to her own ear. ‘I want you to give me your blessings, Milord.’

His eyes widened in disbelief, and he quickly checked her pulse, but then the true meaning of her words made his entire soul tremble.

‘You’re leaving me-dying.’

‘I have my own path.’

He looked deep into her beautiful crystalline eyes. ‘You ask another very difficult thing-that I be happy with your departure.’

She returned his gaze. ‘But is it impossible?’

He did not answer what was already obvious.

They brought their faces close.

‘This is why I love you.’

The Mikado exited to find Taketori no Okina sitting restlessly in the hallway just outside. He started abruptly at the sight of the emperor. The attendants he had dismissed were there as well, and they hurried to him in panic.

‘How did it go?’ Taketori hesitantly asked.

And the Mikado laughed.

‘She shot me down.’

Thus the Mikado would occasionally visit his princess afterwards, until she was taken to a better place. 

They say the Princess had left him a manual containing the secrets to longevity, which he ceremoniously burned, having no lingering attachments to a world where she was not beside him.