Gauche the Cellist, Page 2

  “Hey, raccoon dog! Do you know what raccoon dog soup is?” he yelled.

  The little raccoon dog gave a confused look as he neatly sat himself down on the floor, and for a few moments he cocked his head sideways, thinking as hard as he could, before finally replying,

  “No, I don’t know what raccoon dog soup is.”

  After watching the raccoon dog’s face Gauche nearly burst out laughing, but forced himself to look as mean as possible,

  “Then I'll tell you,” said Gauche. “To make raccoon dog soup, you start with a raccoon dog, like yourself, mix in some cabbage and some salt, then boil it for a few hours, and then that gets eaten by people, like me.”

  The little raccoon dog looked up at Gauche with a confused expression on its face,

  “But my pa said that you were really nice, and that you weren’t scary at all, and that I should go and take a lesson from you.”

  Gauche burst out laughing.

  “What did he tell you to learn? Don’t you know how busy I am? And sleepy too.”

  Encouraged, the little raccoon dog took a step closer in.

  “I play the snare drum. My pa told me to go learn to play with the cello.”

  “I don't see any snare drum.”

  “Ah, here,” said the little raccoon dog as he grabbed two sticks from his back.

  “What are you going to do with them?”

  “So, please play The Merry Coach House.”

  “What's The Merry Coach House? Is that jazz?”

  “Um, this is the music here,” said the little raccoon dog, grabbing a sheet of music from his back.

  Gauche laughed as he took the music.

  “Hmm, this looks a little weird. Alright, I’m gonna start playing. So are you going to play the snare drum, are you?” As he began to play, Gauche continued to glance down at the raccoon dog, waiting to see what it was going to do.

  Using his sticks, the little raccoon dog started tapping ♬rat-a-tat-tat-♬ directly beneath the cello’s bridge, in time to the music. In fact he was really quite good and Gauche started to enjoy himself. When they reached the end of the piece, the little raccoon dog cocked its head sideways in thought.

  Then, as if finally working out a difficult problem, he said to Gauche,

  “Master Gauche, when you play on that second string, you fall just a bit behind, don't you? It puts me off my rhythm a little.”

  Gauche was taken aback. Ever since last night he'd had the feeling that no matter how quickly he played that string, the sound never came out straight away.

  “Hmm, you might be right. It's the cello,” replied Gauche dejectedly. The little raccoon dog gave Gauche a sympathetic look and was again lost in thought, but then said,

  “I wonder what's wrong with it. Could you play one more time?”

  “Alright, here I go,” said Gauche and started again.

  This time, the little raccoon dog tapped on the bottom of the cello like before, but every now and then he placed his ear up against the bottom of the cello. When they reached the end, a silver haze was once again showing in the eastern sky.

  “Ah, the sun's coming up. Thank you very much.” The little raccoon dog hurriedly placed his music and sticks on his back and tied them down with an elastic band, bowed two, three times and then left.

  Gauche stood dreamily breathing the fresh air blowing in through the hole where the window had fallen out the previous night, but then thinking to get a decent rest before going into town, he quickly jumped into bed.

 

  Chapter Five

  The next evening also, Gauche had been practicing his cello all through the night, and with dawn approaching, had started to fall asleep with the sheet music in his hands, when something knocked at the door. It was so faint, it was barely even audible, but this being a nightly occurrence, Gauche soon called out, “Come in!”

  Making its way in through a gap in the door was a field mouse. With it was a tiny baby mouse, and together they scampered over toward Gauche. The baby field mouse was no bigger than an eraser, and Gauche couldn’t help but laugh. The mouse stopped in front of Gauche, staring up at him as if wondering what he was laughing at, before placing a green chestnut at its feet and bowing politely.

  “Master Gauche, this child is not well and looks like he might die. Have mercy and save him please.”

  “But I'm no doctor!” answered Gauche somewhat bewildered.

  The mother mouse looked down at the ground briefly in silence, before speaking with renewed resolve,

  “Master Gauche, that's a lie. Master Gauche, haven't you been healing everyone's illnesses every day with such great skill?”

  “I don't know what you're talking about.”

  “Why, it was because of you the bunny rabbit's grannie got better, and it was you who healed the raccoon dog's pa; you even healed that mean-spirited horned owl, so it would be terribly unfair if you didn’t help this poor little one.”

  “Hey, hey, this is some kind of mistake. I’ve never healed no horned owl. I must admit there was a little raccoon dog that was here last night practicing for his band…Hmm…,” Gauche looked bemusedly down at the baby mouse and laughed.

  The mother mouse burst into tears.

  “Oh, if he had to be sick, why couldn't he have been sick earlier? Just before you were playing with such gusto, but you stopped just when he started to feel sick, and now you won't play no matter how much I beg you. Oh! What an unfortunate child!”

  “What!?” exclaimed Gauche in shock. “Are you saying that the horned owl and the rabbit got better just because I was playing the cello? How does that work? Strange...”

  The mother mouse wiped away its tears with a paw.

  “Yes, all of the animals in this area, whenever they get sick, they climb under your floor so they can get better.”

  “And they get better?”

  “Yes. Some feel better straight away, their circulation improves through their whole body and they feel terrific afterwards; but some have to wait until they get home before they feel better.”

  “Ah, so that’s it. What you are saying is that the sound of my cello makes all of these vibrations, and that works like a massage, and makes you better? Right. I get it. Let's give it a try,” said Gauche, his cello giving out a ♬-gyuu gyuu-♬ sound as he gave it a quick tune, before plucking up the baby field mouse and squeezing it through a hole near the bottom of the cello.

  “I'm going too. They’d let me in any other hospital,” cried the mother mouse, jumping up on the cello like a lunatic.

  “I'm not sure you'll fit,” said Gauche, and tried pushing her through the hole as well, but she could only get her head half-way through.

  Flapping and flailing, she cried out to her little one,

  “Are you alright? Did you land with your feet together like I taught you?”

  “Yup. I landed good,” said the baby mouse in a tiny voice like a mosquito from the bottom of the cello.

  “He'll be right. Really, you can stop crying,” said Gauche as he placed the mother down, picked up his bow and launched into a rhapsody with great gusto. The mother stood anxiously listening to the sound of the cello, but then, as if she couldn’t take it one second longer, cried out,

  “That's enough! Please, let him out.”

  “Huh, is that all you want?” asked Gauche, and he leaned the cello on its side with his palm over the hole and waited for the baby mouse which eventually popped out.

  Gauche quietly placed it back on the floor. The baby mouse stood with its eyes closed tightly, shaking and trembling all over.

  “How was it? Are you Ok? How do you feel?”

  The baby mouse made no reply but continued shaking and trembling with its eyes closed until all of a sudden it got up and started running.

  “Oh, he's better! Thank you so much. Thank you so much,” said the mother mouse running around with her son, before stopping in front of Gauche and bowing deeply,


  “Thank you so much. Thank you so much,” she said at least ten times.

  Gauche felt a little sorry for them,

  “Hey, do you guys eat bread?” he asked.

  As if taken by complete surprise, the mother mouse cast her gaze nervously around for several moments, before replying,

  “I may be mistaken, but I have heard that bread is a very delicious food made by kneading and baking flour which rises all soft and fluffy, but no Master Gauche, we have never been inside your pantry and, certainly you have been so good to us, we would never steal from you.”

  “No, that's not what I mean. I was just asking if you eat it. So you do right? Wait a second. I'll give you some for the little one’s sore tummy.”

  Gauche lay the cello on the floor, grabbed a chunk of bread from the pantry and placed it in front of the mother mouse.

  The mother mouse was beside herself, laughing and then crying and then bowing, before placing the bread delicately in her mouth, and with the little one in front of her, headed out the front door and off home.

  “Ahhh. Talking to mice can wear you out too,” said Gauche, collapsing into bed and falling fast asleep.

 

  Chapter Six

  It was evening, six nights later. The members of the Venus Orchestra filed neatly off stage and into the dressing room at the back of the town auditorium, their instruments in hand, their cheeks glowing red. They'd just carried off a successful performance of Symphony No. 6. Inside the auditorium the sound of applause was reverberating like thunder. The conductor wandered slowly between the musicians with his hands thrust in his pockets, looking as if he didn't care at all about the applause, but the truth was he couldn't have been happier. The musicians were lighting their cigarettes and packing away their instruments.

  The sound of applause continued unabated. In fact the noise was reaching fever pitch, threatening to spiral out of control. In came the master of ceremonies wearing a large white ribbon draped across his chest.

  “They are calling for an encore. Can you do a short piece for them or something?”

  “No, we couldn't do that,” replied the conductor with a stern look. “What could we possibly follow up with after playing such a brilliant piece like that?”

  “Well then, please come out and say a few words to the audience.”

  “That wouldn’t do. Hey, Gauche, go out and play something for them.”

  “You want me?” replied Gauche dumbstruck.

  “Gauche! Yes, Gauche!” shouted the first violinist suddenly looking up.

  “Go on, get out there,” cried the conductor. The other musicians shoved the cello into Gauche's hands, opened the door and thrust him out onto the stage. As Gauche stumbled bewildered through the door holding his battered cello, the audience caught sight of him and burst into wild applause. Some were even screaming.

  “So they want to make a fool of me? Well I'll show `em. See how they like Tiger Hunting in India,” muttered Gauche as he walked with complete calm out onto the middle of the stage.

  He launched into Tiger Hunting with the ferocity of a raging elephant, just like he'd done that night with the cat. The audience became silent, completely captivated by the music. Gauche played on and on. He passed the bit where the cat could take no more and sparks started to fly from its head. He passed the bit where it threw itself against the door, over and over again.

  After finishing the piece, Gauche picked up his cello and ran off as fast as that cat had, leaving the stage without so much as a glance at the audience. Backstage the conductor and the other musicians all sat silently staring into space as if they’d just watched a house burn down. Now at the point of desperation, Gauche walked hurriedly passed the others and sat, half-collapsing onto a wooden bench at the far side of the room, and crossed his legs.

  Everyone turned as one to look at Gauche, but their expressions were quite sincere and no one was laughing.

  What a weird night, thought Gauche.

  The conductor got to his feet.

  “Fantastic Gauche! Even with that piece, you still had everyone here on the edge of their seat. You’ve improved a lot in what, a week, ten days? If I compare you now to what you were like ten days ago, you’ve gone from a baby, to a warrior. You see Gauche, you can do it if you just try!”

  All the other musicians started walking up to congratulate him.

  “It’s only because he’s so strong that he can play like that,” said the conductor from the other side of the room, “That'd kill an ordinary person.”

  That night Gauche returned home late.

  He then gulped down a glass of water as usual. Afterwards he opened the window and staring out at the distant sky in the direction the cuckoo had flown off so many days before, he sighed,

  “Ah cuckoo, sorry about that night. You know, I wasn't really angry.”

  THE END

  About the Authors

  Nankichi Niimi was born Shohachi Watanabe in what is now Handa City, Aichi Prefecture, on July 30, 1913, with the year 2013 marking 100 years since his birth. Gon the Fox is studied by every Japanese child in elementary school and it was recently estimated that over 60 million people have read this story, which he wrote at just 18 years of age. Although Niimi went on to write a large number of poems and short stories, such as Buying Mittens, Grandpa's Lamp and When the Thieves Came to Hananoki Village before his death from tuberculosis at age 29, Gon the Fox is undoubtedly the most famous and well-loved of all his works, and perhaps the most famous Japanese children's story of all time.

  Kenji Miyazawa is one of Japan’s best known and well-loved writers and poets. He was born in what is now Hanamaki City, Iwate Prefecture, Japan, in 1896. Although the eldest son of a wealthy pawnbroker and landowner, Kenji was a deeply spiritual person who led a frugal life, and when he wasn’t writing, volunteered a great deal of his time teaching farmers how to improve their crop yields, or organizing concerts for classical music in his local village. He was a prolific writer who completed hundreds of works, but only a small collection of those were published while he was still alive, his reputation as one of Japan’s greatest storytellers only coming after his death in 1933, aged 37.

  About Little J Books

  Hi, my name is Paul and I started Little J Books because I personally wanted to be able to read more of these kinds of Japanese stories in English, especially in ebook form. By putting these stories into an ebook format they will be available for anyone to access anywhere in the world, forever. That last word is key, because quite often translators do an incredible job of translating a book into English, but after it gets published and sells out, it's gone. But now with ebooks and publishing on demand (POD) that is changing. So thank you so much for choosing to read this book, and if you would like to get involved somehow please send me an email at mailto:[email protected].

  Other titles by Little J Books

  Tales from a Japanese Dreamland: Book 1

  Ame-ni-mo Makezu + Kenju's Forest Playground

  by Kenji Miyazawa

  Ame-ni-mo Makezu

  Perhaps the most famous Japanese poem of the modern age, it was written by Kenji while lying on his death bed and was never seen by anyone else until after his death. This significance of this poem has increased greatly for the Japanese people following the Great East Japan Earthquake, with many people using it to reflect on what truly is important in their lives.

  Kenju's Forest Playground

  Kenju is different from other kids his age, and he gets teased a lot. But Kenju can see things all around that others can't. One day, completely out-of-the-blue, he decides to plant seven hundred cedar trees, and those trees become something that no one ever imagined.

  Other titles by Little J Books

  Tales from a Japanese Dreamland: Book 2

  Gauche the Cellist & Other Stories

  by Kenji Miyazawa & Nankichi Niimi

  Gauche the Cellist

  Gauche is a hopeless musician and
he's always being yelled at by the conductor. It's not because he doesn't try, it's just that there is something lacking in his music. With a big concert approaching, Gauche receives some special music lessons from his closest neighbors.

  The Nighthawk Star

  The nighthawk has a hard time of it. He's got a face like a mud pie, he gets teased by all the other birds and he has to put up with bullies. Hans Christian Andersen was a great inspiration to Kenji and you will recognize something of the Ugly Duckling in this story, but the setting and the finale is classical Kenji, making this story a standout favorite amongst many Japanese readers.

  Wild Pear (Yamanashi)

  A surreal tale about a family of crabs on the bottom of the river. The amazing descriptions of life under the water will leave you with a truly new perspective on the world. An extremely well-crafted fable, with a profound underlying message.

  The Restaurant of Many Orders

  This is perhaps the most famous of Kenji's short stories and one of his personal favorites, as it was the title story of his one and only self-published collection of short stories. Two hunters go on a hunting trip in the country and end up completely lost. Luckily they come across what appears to be an extremely popular restaurant…but everything is not as it seems

  Buying Mittens by Nankichi Niimi

  Mama fox only wants the best for her little one, so when the cold winter arrives and her precious boy needs some mittens, then she knows what she must do. The only problem is that she is afraid and her legs won't take her any further. So her son must go on his own. The highlight of this delightful children's story is the beautiful description of the foxes' journey through the snow covered woods during the middle of the night.

 

  Other titles by Little J Books

  Tales from a Japanese Dreamland: Book 3