There was no girl. In the lamplight stood a slender white crane, plucking its own feathers and weaving them into the loom. The beautiful cloth was made from its own body. The crane’s legs were bare and bleeding; its once-glorious wings were thinning and raw. It was the same crane her husband had saved.
But the girl was not finished. She wove again, producing an even more magnificent fabric—embroidered with cranes flying across a silver sky. It sold for an even greater sum. tsuru no ongaeshi story
Feeling great pity, the old man carefully untied the knots. The crane, now free, let out a joyful cry, spread its wide wings, and soared into the snowy sky. The old man continued home, thinking nothing more of it. There was no girl
But poverty weighed heavily on them. Winter was harsh, and soon they had barely a handful of rice left. Seeing their worry, the girl said, “Father, Mother, do not fret. I can weave. But you must promise me one thing: you must never look into the room while I am weaving.” The crane’s legs were bare and bleeding; its