When Rai-Taro was eighteen years old all the neighbours were bidden to his birthday feast. There was plenty of good saké, and the good folk were merry enough; only Rai-Taro was silent and sad and sorry.
“What ails you, Rai-Taro?” said his foster-mother. “You who are wont to be the gayest of the gay, why are you silent, sad and sorry?”
“It is because I must leave you,” Rai-Taro said.
“Nay,” said his foster-mother, “never leave us, Rai-Taro, my son. Why would you leave us?”
“Mother, because I must,” said Rai-Taro in tears.
“You have been our great good fortune; you have given us all things. What have I given you? What have I given you, Rai-Taro, my son?”
Rai-Taro answered, “Three things have you taught me—to labour, to suffer, and to love. I am more learned than the Immortals.”
Then he went from them. And in the likeness of a white cloud he scaled heaven’s blue height till he gained his father’s castle. And Rai-den received him. The two of them stood upon the western rampart of the Castle of Cloud and looked down to earth.
The foster-mother stood weeping bitterly, but her husband took her hand.
“My dear,” he said, “it will not be for long. We grow old apace.”