The Magic Mirror

In the prosperous merchant town of Kagamimachi, where silk traders and artisans gathered to display their finest wares, there lived a young woman named Ayame whose physical beauty was so extraordinary that people would stop in the streets just to catch a glimpse of her. Her skin was like porcelain, her hair flowed like black silk, and her features were so perfectly arranged that poets composed verses comparing her to celestial beings.

But while Ayame’s outer beauty was undeniable, her character had grown as shallow and cold as a winter pond. Spoiled by constant admiration and praise, she had developed a vanity so profound that she spent hours each day gazing at her reflection, arranging her hair, and selecting the most flattering kimonos to showcase her appearance.

Ayame lived with her wealthy merchant father in a grand house filled with beautiful objects, but the most prized possession in their home was an enormous mirror made of polished bronze and framed with intricate silver designs. This mirror had been imported from China at great expense, and its surface was so perfectly crafted that it reflected images with startling clarity.

Every morning, Ayame would sit before this magnificent mirror for hours, admiring her reflection from every possible angle and ensuring that every detail of her appearance was absolutely perfect. She would practice expressions, arrange her kimono sleeves just so, and adjust each strand of hair until everything met her exacting standards.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall,” Ayame would say to her reflection, borrowing a phrase she had heard in a foreign story, “who is the fairest in the land?”

And indeed, her reflection would always confirm what she already knew—that she was, without question, the most beautiful woman in all the region.

But Ayame’s beauty had made her cruel and dismissive toward others. She treated her servants with contempt, ignored the poor and suffering, and spoke harshly to anyone whose appearance didn’t meet her impossibly high standards. She had no friends, for she considered other women beneath her notice and men merely sources of admiration for her beauty.

One autumn day, as Ayame was performing her usual morning ritual of self-admiration, an old woman appeared at their gate asking for food and shelter. She was bent with age, her clothes were patched and worn, and her face was weathered by years of hardship.

“Please, young lady,” the old woman called out as Ayame passed by the window, “I have traveled far and am very hungry. Could you spare a small bowl of rice for an old grandmother?”

Ayame glanced down at the beggar with disgust. “Go away, ugly old crone,” she said coldly. “Your unsightly appearance offends my eyes. I don’t want such ugliness near my beautiful home.”

The old woman’s eyes flashed with an strange light, but she simply bowed and continued on her way, leaving Ayame to return to her mirror without another thought for the encounter.

But that evening, as Ayame sat before her beloved mirror preparing for bed, something extraordinary occurred. Instead of showing her usual perfect reflection, the mirror’s surface began to shimmer and change, like water disturbed by a thrown stone.

As the shimmering settled, Ayame gasped in horror at what she saw. The reflection looking back at her was not her beautiful face, but something twisted and ugly—a face marked by cruelty, selfishness, and vanity. The features were sharp and mean, the eyes cold and empty, and the mouth turned down in a permanent expression of disdain.

“This cannot be!” Ayame cried, covering her face with her hands. “The mirror must be broken!”

But when she looked at her hands in the mirror, they appeared normal. It was only her face that had been transformed into this hideous reflection of her inner nature.

Ayame ran from the mirror in terror, but every reflective surface in the house—windows, water basins, even the polished metal of serving trays—showed her the same horrifying image. While her physical body remained as beautiful as ever, every reflection revealed the ugly truth of her character.

For days, Ayame refused to look at any mirror or reflective surface. She covered all the mirrors in the house with cloth and avoided going outdoors where she might catch sight of herself in windows or water. But the knowledge of what the reflections revealed tormented her constantly.

“What has happened to me?” she wailed to her father. “Some curse has been placed upon our mirrors!”

Her father, who had always been blind to his daughter’s character flaws, was puzzled but assumed the problem would resolve itself. However, as days passed and Ayame became increasingly distraught, he began to worry about her mental state.

Meanwhile, word of Ayame’s strange affliction began to spread through the town. Some people whispered that she had been cursed by a jealous rival, while others suggested that the mirrors had been possessed by evil spirits.

But one person in town understood exactly what had happened. The town’s wise woman, Obaasan Chiyo, had lived long enough to recognize the work of supernatural justice when she saw it.

“The girl has been given a gift,” she told anyone who would listen. “A magic mirror that shows truth instead of mere appearance. She is seeing herself as she truly is for the first time in her life.”

When Ayame heard about the wise woman’s explanation, she swallowed her pride and went to seek her counsel. She found Obaasan Chiyo sitting in her small garden, tending to medicinal herbs with gentle, weathered hands.

“Honored grandmother,” Ayame said, bowing deeply, “I have heard that you understand my affliction. Can you tell me how to break this terrible curse?”

Obaasan Chiyo looked up at Ayame with eyes that seemed to see through all pretenses. “Child,” she said gently, “this is no curse. It is a blessing, though you may not recognize it as such. The mirror is showing you the truth that your outer beauty has hidden—the condition of your heart and soul.”

“But I am beautiful!” Ayame protested. “Everyone has always told me so!”

“Your face and form are indeed lovely,” the wise woman agreed. “But beauty that is not matched by kindness, compassion, and generosity becomes ugliness of the worst kind. The mirror is showing you how your actions and attitudes have shaped your true self.”

Ayame felt tears beginning to form in her eyes—the first genuine tears she had shed in years. “Is there any way to change what the mirror shows?” she asked desperately.

“Certainly,” Obaasan Chiyo replied with a knowing smile. “But it requires changing not your appearance, but your heart. True beauty comes from within, child. When your inner self becomes as lovely as your outer form, the mirror will reflect that transformation.”

“But how do I change my heart?” Ayame asked, genuinely confused. She had never considered that her character might need improvement.

“Begin with kindness,” the wise woman advised. “Help those in need, speak gently to others, and learn to find beauty in things beyond your own reflection. When you start caring more about others’ well-being than your own appearance, you will begin to see changes in that magical mirror.”

Ayame left the wise woman’s garden feeling both hopeful and terrified. She had never tried to be kind before—she wasn’t even sure she knew how to begin.

But that very afternoon, she encountered a small child who had fallen and scraped her knee while playing in the street. In the past, Ayame would have walked by without a second glance, concerned only that the child’s crying might draw unwanted attention to herself.

This time, however, she knelt down beside the little girl and gently cleaned her wound with her own silk handkerchief. “There, little one,” she said softly. “You’ll be fine. The scrape will heal quickly if you keep it clean.”

The child looked up at Ayame with surprise and gratitude. “Thank you, beautiful lady,” she said with a bright smile that warmed Ayame’s heart in a way she had never experienced before.

That evening, when Ayame cautiously glanced in her mirror, she noticed the smallest change in her reflection. The cruel expression had softened just slightly, and there was a tiny spark of warmth in the reflected eyes.

Encouraged by this small improvement, Ayame began to actively seek ways to help others. She gave food to beggars instead of turning them away, spoke kindly to her servants instead of treating them like furniture, and even began visiting sick children in the town, bringing them small gifts and cheerful conversation.

Each act of kindness was reflected in the magic mirror. Day by day, week by week, the ugly reflection grew more pleasant. The harsh lines of cruelty softened into expressions of compassion, the cold eyes warmed with empathy, and the mean mouth learned to smile with genuine joy.

But the greatest test came when the same old beggar woman who had first asked for help appeared at Ayame’s gate once again. This time, Ayame rushed outside immediately.

“Honored grandmother,” she said, bowing deeply, “please come in and share our evening meal. You must be tired and hungry from your travels.”

The old woman’s eyes sparkled with pleasure, but also with something that seemed almost magical. “You have changed greatly since we last met, child,” she observed as Ayame led her into the house.

“I am trying to become a better person,” Ayame replied honestly. “I have learned that outer beauty means nothing if it is not matched by inner beauty.”

As they shared dinner, the old woman told stories of her travels and spoke wisdom about life that Ayame had never bothered to hear before. When it came time for the woman to leave, she paused at the door.

“You have learned the most important lesson of all,” she said with a mysterious smile. “True beauty radiates from within and touches everyone around it. Your mirror will never lie to you again, but now it will show you the truth of your beautiful heart as well as your beautiful face.”

With these words, the old woman vanished into the night like mist, leaving Ayame to wonder if she had been entertaining an ordinary beggar or something far more supernatural.

When Ayame looked in her mirror that night, she gasped with joy. The reflection showed her own lovely face, but now it was illuminated with kindness, compassion, and genuine happiness. She was more beautiful than she had ever been before, because her inner beauty now matched and enhanced her outer appearance.

From that day forward, Ayame used her beauty not just for her own admiration, but as a tool to help others. She became known throughout the region not just as the most physically beautiful woman, but as the kindest, most generous, and most beloved person in the entire province.

The magic mirror remained in her home, but now it served as a reminder rather than a revelation. Each morning when she looked into it, she saw the truth of who she had become—a woman whose beauty came from the harmony between a lovely face and an even lovelier heart.

And though many years passed and her physical beauty eventually faded as all earthly beauty must, the beauty of her character only grew stronger and more radiant, ensuring that the magic mirror continued to show her as truly beautiful until the very end of her long and fulfilling life.