He found his younger brother, the God of Spring.
“How fares it with you, my brother?” said the God of Spring.
“Ill, ill indeed, for she will not have me. She is the proud lady. Mine is the broken heart.”
“Ah, my brother!” said the God of Spring.
“You’d best come home with me, for all is over with us,” said the God of Autumn.
But the God of Spring said, “I stay here.”
“What,” cried his brother, “is it likely, then, that she will take you if she’ll have none of me? Will she love the smooth cheeks of a child and flout the man full grown? Will you go to her, brother? She’ll laugh at you for your pains.”
“Still I will go,” said the God of Spring.
“A wager! A wager!” the God of Autumn cried. “I’ll give you a cask of saké if you win her—saké for the merry feast of your wedding. If you lose her, the saké will be for me. I’ll drown my grief in it.”
“Well, brother,” said the God of Spring, “I take the wager. You’ll have your saké like enough indeed.”