While she was gazing in wonder at our pearl of mountains, a poor fisherman who lived in a cottage close to the sea came out to tend his nets.
His name was Yama, and he lived alone. My great-grandfather's nest was close to his cottage, and Yama loved my great-grandfather and often spoke to him of his dreams.
On this night when Tsuki came to earth, Yama, tempted by the glory of the sea and stars, did not go into his cottage again, but wandered aimlessly along the shore thinking of his lonely life, and dreaming of the moon.
Unconsciously he raised his eyes to the tops of the pine trees that fringed the sandy shore, and his attention was caught by something white and glistening on the top of one of them.
"Is that some dead white bird lying yonder?" he thought. "'Tis too late, surely, for snow."
He walked to the foot of the tree and climbed it branch by branch. When he reached the top, he saw that what he had taken to be a bird, was indeed a mass of finest feathers, but shaped like a woman's cloak.
He took it in his arms—it was as light as driven snow—and climbed down the tree on to the seashore.
"How beautiful!" he said. "I will hang it up in my cottage; surely it is some fairy thing, and will bring me good luck and a fulfilment of my dreams." He was about to walk away with the mantle in his arms, when he heard a cry behind him.
He turned, and saw a beautiful maiden wringing her hands and crying bitterly. She was pale and slim, and her light golden hair flowed to her feet, but she had no mantle, and she trembled exceedingly.
It was Tsuki, the Moon Maiden.