Long ago, in a quiet village nestled among the green mountains of Japan, there lived a kind old man with a large round lump on his right cheek. The lump wobbled when he laughed, and he laughed often. He loved singing to the birds, sharing his rice with the village cats, and watching the sunset paint the mountains gold.
One afternoon, the old man went into the forest to gather firewood. He hummed a little song as he worked, stacking branches into a neat bundle. But suddenly the sky turned dark, thunder rumbled across the mountains, and fat drops of rain began to pour down through the leaves. He quickly ducked inside the hollow trunk of an enormous old cedar tree to wait out the storm.
As night fell and the rain stopped, a strange sound drifted through the forest — the beat of drums and the tinkle of bells. The old man pressed his ear against the bark and listened. Music! Wild, joyful music was coming from somewhere deeper in the bamboo grove, along with the sound of stomping feet and loud, hearty laughter.
The old man crept out of the tree and peeked through the bamboo stalks. In a moonlit clearing, a group of tengu — long-nosed forest spirits with bright red faces — were dancing in a great circle. Their chief, a tall figure with an enormous nose and flowing black and gold robes, waved a feathered fan and stamped his wooden sandals on the mossy ground. The moonlight made everything shimmer like silver.
The music was so lively and the dancing so joyful that the old man's feet began to tap all by themselves. Before he knew it, he leaped out from behind the bamboo and joined the circle! He spun and clapped and kicked his legs high, laughing until tears streamed down his wrinkled cheeks. His lump wobbled and bounced as he whirled round and round with the tengu.
The tengu chief roared with delight. "What a wonderful dancer! You must come back tomorrow night!" He reached out and plucked the lump right off the old man's cheek — pop! — as easily as picking a plum. "I will keep this as a pledge," the chief declared, tucking it into his sleeve. "Return and dance with us again!" The old man touched his smooth cheek in amazement.
The old man hurried home through the moonlit forest, feeling lighter than he had in years. When his wife saw his face — smooth and lump-free — she gasped and clapped her hands. "The lump is gone!" she cried. The old man laughed and danced a little jig right there in their doorway, telling her the whole wonderful story.
Next door lived a grumpy old man who also had a lump — on his left cheek. When he heard his neighbor's story, his eyes grew wide with greed. "If those tengu took his lump, they can take mine too!" he muttered. That very evening, he marched into the forest, found the hollow cedar tree, and hid inside, waiting for the drums to begin.
Sure enough, the tengu appeared and began their wild dance under the moon. The greedy neighbor stomped out and tried to dance, but his movements were stiff and awkward. He forced a smile that looked more like a grimace. He shuffled left when the tengu went right, and tripped over his own feet. The tengu stopped dancing and stared. Their smiles turned to frowns.
"Terrible! Awful!" bellowed the tengu chief, his red face turning even redder with anger. "You dance like a wooden puppet! Take back this pledge — we never want to see you again!" He slapped the first old man's lump right onto the neighbor's other cheek — splat! The greedy neighbor stumbled home through the dark forest with a lump on each cheek, having learned that you cannot fake true joy, and greed only brings you double the trouble.
