Heitaro the farmer had built his house near a giant willow tree – a tree that was as old as the hills. Perhaps because he lived so near it, Heitaro loved the tree passionately. So deep was his attachment, that when the villagers wanted to cut it down and use its wood to build a bridge over the river, Heitaro was indignant.
“Take the trees that grow on my farm,” he said. “I cannot bear my willow to be soiled by hundreds of feet!”
One night, when Heitaro was sitting under the tree, he felt a presence beside him. It was a beautiful woman. He assumed that she had come to meet her beloved and made as if to go.
“Oh, I am not meeting anyone,” said the woman, reading his mind. “He will not come.”
Seeing his puzzled look, the woman continued, “He is here right now – his heart has always been in this willow tree.”
With that she disappeared. Heitaro saw Higo (her name meant ‘willow’) every evening in the same spot and he slowly grew to love her. When he asked her to marry him, she agreed. A year later, they had a son and their cup of joy was full.
Then the king sent word that he was building a temple to Kwannon the goddess of mercy. He required all the good timber that could be had. The villagers wanted to cut down the great willow tree and this time, Heitaro’s arguments and pleading cut no ice with them. That night, Heitaro was jolted awake by a scream. It was Higo.
“Heitaro, they are cutting down the willow tree. Look at its shadow, how it trembles in the moonlight. I can feel its pain in every fibre of my being. Oh, how they tear and cut me to pieces! The pain, the pain!” she wailed. “My willow wife! Please don’t weep!” begged Heitaro, taking her in his arms.
Outside there was a thunderous crash. Heitaro looked down. He found that he was holding not Higo, but a bunch of slender golden willow leaves.
— A tale from Japan