His mouth agape, Hayashi stared at the fox. It cocked its head to one side, then the other. Its lip lifted slightly, as if it were amused. It was the same fox from two mornings before, Hayashi was certain. Hayashi could see the tell-tale ring of bare, blotchy-red skin around its rear right foot, exactly where the fox of two mornings before had been caught in the rabbit snare.
He’d been climbing the hill, shifting the heavy basket of yams from one arm to another, when the fox stepped out of the trees and sat down on the road before him. Hayashi stopped and stared. Foxes were elusive creatures; humans only saw them when they wanted to be seen. It was a small fox, with dark reddish-orange paws and a pointed face. Three bushy, white-tipped tails rose from its backside. Hayashi wondered why the fox had chosen to reveal itself to him. He wasn’t sure how to address a fox. Grimacing with uncertainty, he bowed- but how low did one bow to a fox?- and nearly dumped his yams into the dirt.
The fox dipped its head and spoke. Its black lips didn’t move, but Hayashi heard it all the same. Its voice was clear, pitched high like a young girl’s, threaded with a faint unnatural echo. “Hayashi! I am glad to have found you, Hayashi.”
“How do you know my name?” Hayashi winced at his foolishness. He should have greeted the fox formally, as he would any stranger. But the fox didn’t seem offended. Her three tails quivered in delight.
“I know everything, Hayashi! All foxes know everything! I want to help you, Hayashi! Tell me what you want!”
At that moment Hayashi wanted nothing more than to put down his heavy basket. He shifted the burden to his other arm. “Why…why do you want to help me?”
“Are you stupid, Hayashi?” There was no malice in the fox’s tone. “Did you lose your memory? Hayashi, you saved my life!”
“You give me too much credit.” He mumbled, feeling heat invade his face. “You would have freed yourself eventually. I just thought if I let you go, I might catch a real rabbit sooner.”
“Yes, yes, Hayashi! I would have chewed off my foot to escape your trap. You saved me from a life of lameness, Hayashi! I wish to repay you.”
“That’s not necessary…” He shifted the yam basket to his other arm.
“But I wish to help you, Hayashi! If you refuse my help, I will punish you! I will come back and eat your firstborn child! Let me repay your kindness, Hayashi, or I will kill your child!” The fox’s lip rippled, exposing a row of sharp yellow teeth. Hayashi’s hands and feet went cold.
“All…all right.” He stammered. “Will you do me the honor of visiting my house while I think?”
They started up the hill. The fox trotted beside Hayashi, docile as a dog. Only the tiniest of limps marred her pace. Hayashi glanced at her as they walked. Foxes were notorious tricksters, capricious and cunning. They often made fools of men, even leading them to their deaths for no reason but their own amusement. But this fox seemed sincere. Hayashi’s thoughts scrambled wildly as he tried to come up with a simple reward.
By the time they reached Hayashi’s house the sun had disappeared behind the trees. “I’ll make us dinner, and we can talk afterwards.”
“Yes, yes Hayashi! Dinner is wonderful. I am very hungry, Hayashi.”
The fox looked rather plump to him, but Hayashi thought it best not to argue. She stepped inside before him and settled herself by the fire pit as naturally as any guest. Hayashi built a small fire. In the wavering light, the fox’s eyes glowed red.
Hayashi made rice with yams and sauce. He boiled white tea with honey and brought out two fish cakes he’d been saving for his birthday. The fox gobbled up the food and lapped delicately at the tea. When she finished she sat back on its haunches and regarded him. “Hayashi, what reward do you want? My powers are great, Hayashi, though I am young- only three hundred years old!”
“Only three hundred? I wouldn’t have believed it.” Hayashi protested politely. “I have an idea. There is a leak high up on my roof. The tiles are slick and I’m afraid of heights. Will you fix it?”
“A leak in the roof? Hayashi, is that all you want? You insult me! My powers are vast, Hayashi!”
Hayashi set his tea cup down so the fox couldn’t see how he trembled. “Yes, of course. I am sorry…perhaps you could dig a well behind the house? The village well is a long walk…”
The fox laid her ears back. Her three tails lashed from side to side. “Hayashi, you still insult me? My powers are limitless!”
Hayashi shuddered. “Well….I suppose I could hire men to do those things for me, if I had money. Can you make me a rich man, Fox?”
The fox’s ears swiveled around. Her tails became still. “I can do that, Hayashi! I can make you rich! Yes, yes! Hayashi, you will be the richest man in all the world when I am finished!”
“Thank you, Fox.” Hayashi bowed awkwardly. The fox didn’t move. It sat on the other side of the fire, gazing at him. “Is there…anything else I can do for you?”
“No, no, Hayashi! Go to sleep. In the morning I will tell my plan to make you rich. I am very wise, Hayashi! Very wise!”
The fox remained by the fire, thinking, Hayashi supposed. He lay down on his mat and rolled over, facing away from the fox. He clenched his fists to resist pulling the blanket over his head.
***
Hayashi woke. He blinked drowsiness from his eyes and lay still a moment, listening. Birds chirped, a breath of wind shook the shutters. Cautiously he sat up and looked around. Sunlight slanted through the window. He was alone! Hayashi sent a prayer of thanks to the gods.
“Hayashi, Hayashi! You are awake!”
He swallowed a moan and retracted his prayer. The fox’s voice came from near the fire pit. Hayashi scanned the room. A low table, dresser, tea pot, dirty bowls from last night’s dinner, cups…
But Hayashi didn’t have a tea pot; he boiled his tea in the same pot he used to make rice. And he could never own such an exquisite tea pot- an elegant round vessel, glazed a rich, dark red, like the heart of a fire. The hand and spout curved gently, and both were tipped with a splash of creamy white.
“You’re very lazy, Hayashi! Yes, I have been awake all night!” The tea pot quivered with mirth.
“You…became a tea pot?” Hayashi scratched his neck.
“Yes, yes! I will make you rich, Hayashi! I can take any shape!”
“A tea pot, Fox? How?”
The fox’s laughter rang like wind chimes. “Hayashi, you are so very stupid! You will sell me, Hayashi, and become rich!”
“Oh, I…see.”
“Hurry, Hayashi! Get dressed and take me to the road! Oh, you are lazy, Hayashi!”
“Hayashi, it’s hot.” The teapot-fox whined pitifully. Hayashi shifted his position so his shadow fell over it.
“Is that better?”
“No. I am thinking again about helping you, Hayashi.”
“You are?” Hayashi raised his head. The movement dislodged sweat from his brow. It ran in streams down his face. “It is a very quiet road, Fox. We may not see anyone all day. Perhaps you’re not meant to help me.”
The teapot-fox was silent. Hayashi gazed at the dusty strip of road.
“I hear someone, Hayashi! They are coming from the north! Hayashi, stand up! Don’t be so slow!”
With a deep sigh Hayashi got to his feet. He lifted the teapot-fox in his hands. It felt warmer than a teapot should. A figure appeared at the crest of the hill. Hayashi squinted against the sunlight. A man with shaven head and a plain brown robe appeared.
“It’s a monk.” Hayashi told the fox.
“Stand up, Hayashi! Lift me! Hayashi, hurry! Oh, you are so slow, Hayashi!” The teapot-fox quivered with anger. Hayashi hurriedly held it up.
The monk wasn’t young. He walked with a long staff, and his skin was brown with the sun. He paused as he came abreast of Hayashi. “Good day.”
“Good day, Brother.” Hayashi looked at the monk’s kindly expression and was struck by guilt. He held the teapot-fox by his waist, hoping the monk wouldn’t notice it.
But the monk’s gaze fell, and he stopped. “What a lovely teapot! Are you offering it for sale?”
Hayashi swallowed. “Yes, Brother.”
“How much do you want for it?” The monk’s eyes took on a strange, possessive glow. Hayashi sensed fox magic, tense as the air before a storm. He cursed to himself.
“A…a great deal, Brother.”
“I’m in luck, then! I am carrying a large donation from a patron. But certainly the Shrine Master would much prefer this exquisite piece.” The monk fumbled in his robe and drew out a handful of silver tai coins. “Is this enough?”
The teapot-fox strained against his fingers. Hayashi sighed. “Yes, Brother.”
They exchanged the tai for the teapot-fox. As it left his hands Hayashi felt suddenly lighter, as if a blanket had been lifted from his shoulders. No one is immune to a fox’s trickery, he thought. It’s not my fault. He bade the monk farewell and started back to his house, counting the money. It wasn’t enough to make him rich, but it was more than he’d earn in six months of farming. When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw the monk hurrying down the hill, clutching the teapot-fox to his chest.
When he returned home, Hayashi hid the monk’s money in his cooking pot. He slept well that night.
The next morning Hayashi rose at his usual hour and swept the porch before he set out for the fields. As he finished the sweeping he looked around. Puffs of dust were rising along the road, as if something were running fast along that strip of packed dirt. Puzzled, Hayashi stared as the dust drew closer…closer…then made a sharp right turn and tore diagonally across the yard in front of his house. His shoulders drooped as the something skidded to a stop before the porch.
The teapot-fox was covered in a film of dust. Four orange legs sprouted from its bottom, ending in four paws. As Hayashi watched the teapot-fox seemed to waver and melt. He blinked. When he opened his eyes the teapot had been replaced by the fox.
“Hayashi, Hayashi, Hayashi!” The fox shook herself vigorously. “I have returned!”
Hayashi fought to keep the disappointment from his tone. “What happened, Fox?”
“It was horrible, Hayashi! I have suffered much for you!” The fox shook her head in sorrow. “That monk presented me to the Shrine Master. The Shrine Master was pleased! He was very pleased, Hayashi!”
“But why did you come back?”
“You are not being sympathetic! Hayashi, I have suffered much for you.”
Hayashi cleared his throat. “I am very sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused you, Fox.”
The fox sat back on her haunches. “You should be sorry, Hayashi! That fat Shrine Master tried to burn me alive!”
“Burn you? Why?”
“He filled me up with water. It was cold, Hayashi! And it tickled! Then he hung me over a fire!”
“A…a fire? Fox, he tried to make tea in you?”
“Yes, yes, Hayashi!” The fox pressed her ears flat. “It burned! Look, Hasyahi!” She thrust her rear into the air. The creamy underside of her middle tail was singed, the hairs blackened and curling.
“What did you do, Fox?” Hayashi coughed into his fist, trying to disguise his laughter.
“I ran away! I formed my legs again and ran back here! The Shrine Master’s face was funny, Hayashi! He shouted for all the monks to chase me, but I got here first!” The fox’s tongue lolled out of her mouth in amusement.
“They…they chased you?” Hayashi’s laughter withered in his throat. He stared at the road. A great cloud of dust was charging toward them from the same direction the fox had come. “Fox, what have you done?”
“Hayashi, I have made you rich! You have the shrine’s money! You are very ungrateful, Hayashi.” The fox lifted one lip in a snarl.
Hayashi hastened to add, “I’m glad for your help, Fox, but…” He broke off as the first of the monks turned off the road into his yard.
There were twenty of them, men of all ages; all with shaved heads and brown robes. As they stormed toward Hayashi the fox hopped up onto the porch steps and hid behind his legs.
“Where is it?” One of the monks demanded. Hayashi recognized him as the one who had bought the teapot-fox.
“Wh…what are you looking for?” Hayashi stuttered. The monk wasn’t fooled. He grabbed the front of Hayashi’s robe.
“Our tea pot, you thief! The shrine paid handsomely for it, and now it’s disappeared! What magic have you worked?”
“Nothing-“ Hayashi started to say, but there was a rustling among the monks and they fell silent. The monk who held Hayashi abruptly let him go. The crowd of men parted as someone split their ranks and came toward the house.
Hayashi knew he was the Shrine Master, because he wore a red jacket over his brown robe, and he was very fat. The Shrine Master stalked toward him, stopping at the bottom of the porch steps. “Where is my teapot?”
“Tea…tea pot?”
“The teapot, you wretched cur!” The Shrine Master roared.
“I am here!”
“Fox, be quiet!” Hayashi hissed, but it was too late. The fox had turned back to her teapot form, but with four legs. The handle was gone, replaced by three bushy tails. The teapot-fox darted out from behind Hayashi’s legs.
“There, you liar!” The Shrine Master shook his fist at Hayashi, who winced. The old man’s face was purple. He seemed about to strike Hayashi, when someone laughed. The Shrine Master lowered his fist and turned his eyes to the teapot. Slowly the purple flush faded from his skin. The wrinkles in his forehead smoothed, and he corners of his mouth twitched. To Hayashi’s astonishment, the Shrine Master began to laugh. Hayashi followed his gaze.
The teapot-fox was dancing. It hopped from foot to foot, bounced up and down, capered in circles. It drew its tails over its rounded sides like fans and bobbed its spout up and down. Hayashi smelled the tang of fox magic in the air, but even he couldn’t help chuckling as the teapot-fox spun on its little legs and leaped into the air.
The other monks crowded around to watch. Soon the yard was full of rippling waves of laughter.
The teapot-fox danced on, tireless. The sun climbed higher in the sky, and the monks began to sweat. But they did not leave. Hayashi went inside to cook a yam for lunch. The monks didn’t seem to notice his absence.
In the afternoon some people passing on the road saw the great crowd of monks outside the house and paused to investigate. When they saw the dancing teapot-fox they too stopped as if roots had suddenly sprung from their feet, laughing until tears ran into their collars. Hayashi sat in the doorway and mended an old robe. It was not until dusk sank to the earth that the Shrine Master shook himself as if he were leaving a state of meditation. He spoke to Hayashi, who was dozing on the porch steps. Hayashi blinked at him drowsily.
“We have neglected our duties to the gods today. I regret we must go.” The Shrine Master was quite soft-spoken when he wasn’t shouting. “Thank you for a wonderful day. My monks and I haven’t laughed like this in years.”
“But, Brother…” Hayashi protested. “The shrine’s money-“
“Never mind the money! The price was cheap. My monks have never had such fun!” With a benevolent smile, the Shrine Master turned and made his way through the crowd. The monks followed, glancing over their shoulders at the teapot-fox, which danced with as much energy as ever. They flowed out of the yard and down the road like a muddy river.
The people who had come off the road stayed a little longer, until it was too dark to see. Then, one by one, they approached the porch. Without a word to Hayashi they each laid down a coin or two, then shuffled into the darkness, their shoulders still quivering with laughter.
As the last of the audience faded into the night, Hayashi went inside to fetch a lantern. When he returned to the porch the fox had transformed again. She lay on her side, panting. She didn’t move when he crouched down next to her, or even when he touched her heaving side. Cautiously Hayashi slipped his hands under her body, but the fox was too exhausted even to raise her head. He carried her inside and laid her on his sleeping mat. That night he slept on the hard boards by the fire pit.
The next morning, when Hayashi went outside, there were several people standing in the yard, gazing hopefully at his door. The teapot-fox appeared soon after, and the crowd gradually grew throughout the day. When all the people finally left it was dark, and a great pile of coins spilled off Hayashi’s steps. He again carried the exhausted fox to his mat and slept by the fire pit.
Things went on this way for three days. Finally Hayashi asked, “Why do you dance for these people, Fox?”
The fox looked up from the dinner she was devouring. White flakes of fish clung to her muzzle. “All those people, Hayashi! Looking at me! Admiring me! Hayashi, they love me! They laugh and laugh, Hayashi! Also…” The fox’s expression became reproachful. “I am helping you, Hayashi. I am making you rich!”
Hayashi glanced at the blanket where he laid all the coins people had left. The pile nearly reached his elbows. It was more money than he knew how to spend. That night he lay awake on the floor, wondering if his yam fields had been choked by weeds.
On the fourth day, as the sun crawled into the sky, Hayashi threw open the door and trudged outside. He halted on the porch and stared wearily at his feet, waiting for the usual hail of questions about the magic tea pot. He heard nothing but birds calling. Puzzled, Hayashi raised his head and gazed about the yard.
There were no people waiting. The little square of hard-packed dirt was empty but for a small party of foxes sitting before the porch steps. Five of them waited in the dust, two on either side of a larger fox. The fox in the middle was the size of a wolf. Its muzzle was white to its eyes, and when it rose Hayashi counted eight tails. It came to the porch, climbed the steps, and stood regarding him with its head to one side. Eight tails, Hayashi thought. Quickly he bowed.
“Hayashi, Hayashi, Hayashi!” The fox appeared in the doorway behind him. Hayashi turned his head.
“Fox-“ He began, but the fox had already seen. She snapped her mouth shut and pinned her ears tightly to her head. She lay down on the porch, squeezing her eyes shut. Hayashi thought it looked as if the fox wanted to press herself so flat she would disappear.
The eight-tailed fox spoke. “So this is where you’ve been.”
“Yes.” The fox’s voice was tiny.
“Why?” The old fox’s tones were rich and deep. Hayashi felt its voice tremble through his bones.
“This human saved my life. I wished to repay him.”
The eight-tailed fox’s eyes narrowed, and Hayashi cringed with sympathy for his fox. But then the old fox’s lip twitched, and Hayashi realized he was amused. “Do you not think he is well repaid now?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” His fox’s voice was a whisper.
Hayashi’s jaw fell slack. His visitor was the Fox King? His knees gave way. He sat down hard on the porch step.
The Fox King turned his yellow eyes to Hayashi. Hayashi’s heart stuttered in his chest. But the old fox’s expression was distant, as if Hayashi were merely a faraway tree or hill. “Hayashi, thank you for taking care of our daughter.”
Hayashi gaped like a landed fish. “I…Your Majesty…she…no trouble…”
The Fox King went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “Our youngest child is willful and often leaves the den without telling her Father. Yet we are fond of her.”
Hayashi’s fox sat up. One of her ears swiveled forward cautiously.
“Come, Daughter. You are still too young to interfere in the human world. Next time we will not be so forgiving.”
Hayashi’s fox hopped lightly to her feet. Her tongue flopped over her black lips. “Farewell, Hayashi! Do not forget me! I worked hard to help you, Hayashi! But I am going home now.”
“Farewell, Fox.” Hayashi bowed awkwardly from his sitting position. “I won’t forget you.”
The fox ran down the steps to join her father’s retinue. As they turned to go something occurred to Hayashi. He was too afraid to address the Fox King directly, so he spoke to his fox. “Wait, Fox…what should I do with the money?”
She glanced at her father. The Fox King’s eye narrowed. “Hmmm. We may have need of money in the future. Retrieve it.”
The four foxes that made up his escort turned as one and went into the house. Hayashi scrambled to move out of the way. He stumbled and landed hard in the dust by the steps. The Fox King gazed without concern over Hayashi’s head. Before long the foxes returned. Each carried a corner of Hayashi’s blanket in its mouth. The blanket bulged with coins. The foxes marched past Hayashi to their King, went to the road, his eight tails billowing behind him. The foxes trotted after, Hayashi’s fortune slung between them.
“But…” He began.
His fox paused, turning her little pointed face up to his. “Say nothing, Hayashi! My father’s assassins will kill you in your sleep if you protest! Oh, you are very foolish, Hayashi!”
She ran to catch up to the Fox King. The last Hayashi saw of them was a smear of reddish-brown, marching down the road. They were at the edge of his vision when they abruptly vanished. There were no footprints in the dusty yard, no trace to show he had ever hosted the Fox King and his daughter.
“I suppose it could have been worse.” He comforted himself.
He went inside and retrieved his basket and straw hat. He slung a hoe over his shoulder and, whistling, started down the road to his yam fields.