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The old couple never saw her again. They kept the last piece of cloth she had woven as a treasure, but more than the riches, they mourned the loss of their dear, grateful daughter. And they never broke a promise again.
The old couple promised. The girl went into a small back room, and from behind the closed door came the soft, rhythmic click-clack of a loom. She wove all day and all night. When she finally emerged, exhausted, she held up a bolt of cloth—so brilliant and exquisite that it shimmered like moonlight on water. “Take this to the village market,” she said. “Sell it for a high price.”
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.
The old man did as she said. The cloth fetched a fortune, and the couple’s worries melted away.
Long ago, in a snowy, mountainous village in Japan, there lived a poor but kind-hearted old man and his wife. One winter evening, as the man was walking home through the heavy snow, he heard a faint, desperate cry. Following the sound, he found a beautiful white crane trapped in a hunter’s snare. Its wings were tangled, and it struggled helplessly.
The old woman cried out and fell back. The old man rushed in, but it was too late. The crane transformed back into the girl one last time. She looked at them with sad, gentle eyes.
