The Island of Thunder: A Demon's Story

My name is Kaname, and I am the last demon left on Onigashima — the Island of Demons. I am writing this so that someone will know what really happened the day the boy came with his animals and took everything from us. People call him Momotaro, the Peach Boy, and they say he is a great hero. But I was there. I saw what he did. And I will tell you the truth.

We demons had lived on our island for as long as anyone could remember. Yes, we were large and frightening to look at. Yes, we had horns and wild hair and voices like rolling thunder. But we had built something on that island. We had our homes, our cooking fires, our songs that we sang when the moon was full. We had a chief named Oni-Taro, a gruff old demon who was strict but fair. He kept order. He settled arguments. Under his rule, the island was rough but peaceful. Some of us had even begun to trade with fishing boats that passed nearby — dried fish for iron tools, a fair exchange that suited everyone.

Then one morning, a lookout on the cliffs shouted a warning. A boy was coming across the water, standing in a small boat, holding a flag. With him were a dog, a monkey, and a pheasant. They looked small and harmless from a distance. But Oni-Taro had heard stories about this boy. He ordered us to prepare, and within the hour, the battle had begun. The dog bit our ankles. The monkey scratched our faces. The pheasant flew at our eyes, pecking hard. And the boy himself fought with a long sword, shouting about justice and the safety of the people in the villages far away. He was fast and clever, and one by one, our strongest warriors fell. I hid behind a large rock near the shore. I am not proud of this, but I was afraid.

When the fighting stopped, Oni-Taro was on his knees. The boy stood over him and demanded that we hand over all our treasure — the gold, the silver, and the magic items that our ancestors had collected over many generations. Oni-Taro had no choice. He surrendered, and we carried everything to the boy's boat. I watched from my hiding place as box after box disappeared into that small vessel. Some of those items had belonged to our grandparents. Some were just shiny rocks that children had found on the beach and kept because they thought they were beautiful. It did not matter. The boy took it all. Then he left, and the village across the sea celebrated him as a champion.

After he was gone, we gathered on the shore. Many of us were wounded. Our great hall was damaged, and our treasure was gone. Oni-Taro sat in silence for a long time. Then he spoke, slowly and quietly, which was unusual for a demon. He said that we had perhaps done wrong things in the past — raided a village once, frightened farmers, taken things that were not ours. He did not deny it. But he also said that the punishment had been total, and that the boy had not asked a single question before he attacked. He had arrived with a ready-made story: we were the villains, and he was the hero. There was no room in that story for the truth.

I am old now. The island is quieter than it used to be. Some demons left after that day. A few younger ones tried to start again, to rebuild what we had lost. We planted crops. We stopped trading in ways that could upset people. We became, I think, quite boring. But no song was ever written about us after that. No traveler came to hear our side. Children in faraway towns still learn about the brave Peach Boy who defeated the terrible demons and brought home the treasure. I wonder sometimes what those children would think if they could sit beside me on this shore, listen to the waves, and hear my story from the beginning.