KITSUNÉ YASHIKI

_Kitsuné Yashiki_, “The Foxes’ Mansion.”

Minokichi sat on the edge of the little open shop, his feet in his clogs, his staff in his hand, ready for the afternoon’s work. His face, bearing the curiously refined expression that belongs to the blind, was turned toward O Koto San, who, with her baby tied to her back, sat on her heels behind the minute stock in trade. So small and so cheap was it that five dollars would probably have bought it all. A few pairs of straw sandals, a pattern or two of blue-and-white toweling, a pile of broad-brimmed hats, a small variety of cakes, and some eggs,--these were the entire contents of the shop. But O Koto San sat at the receipt of custom, as proud and happy in her new business as if she were conducting the great Mitsui[27] silk-store on Ginza.[28]

Minokichi was a blind _amma_, or masseur, who earned a certain but scanty living by his trade. Every afternoon, when the great bell of the temple tolled out its four slow strokes, Minokichi, staff in hand and whistle in mouth, walked up and down the streets of Ushigomé,[29] stopping wherever called, to smooth and rub and soothe and pat any tired body who, after the hot bath, might feel the need of further comforting. Some days, when he was fortunate, he earned as much as twenty cents. Once he had been summoned to a great house, where he had worked for an hour or two over a man whose silken garment proved that he was prosperous, and had pocketed for his fee a fifty-cent note; but such luck had never come to him again. It had taken him a long time to save enough to marry, and when the wedding was over, the go-between and the fortune-teller paid, the presents sent to the bride’s family, the tiny hired house new-papered and fitted up with the very few articles necessary for Japanese housekeeping, and the wedding feast paid for, not only was the long-saved hoard all gone, but he had been obliged to put in pawn every garment he possessed that was not at the time in actual use.

And so O Koto San, a red-cheeked, curly-haired country girl, whose round body seemed always trying to work its way out of her garments, came into the humblest of homes and took up the task of making life for two cheaper and happier than life for one. A good little wife she had proved to be,--in every respect exactly as the go-between had said. She kept the tiny house as neat as her willing hands could make it. She managed the scanty supply of charcoal so that every piece did some work for the family, no grain of rice was ever wasted by her in cooking or in clearing away, and the additional luxuries of the Japanese table, soups, fish, beans, greens, _mochi_[30] at New Year’s, and vermicelli at O Bon, made their appearance with due regularity. She took in cigarettes to roll in her spare time, and added to Minokichi’s earnings the tidy little sum of a dollar to a dollar and a half a month by her own labor. Minokichi brought her all his wages, and whenever he wanted money there was some in her hands for him. He always had wherewith to pay for a hot bath at the public bath-house; his tobacco pouch was never empty; he could entertain his friends at an eel-house, or a macaroni-shop, or in his own home, and O Koto San never told him that there was no money for such foolishness, as did the thrifty wife of the carpenter next door when her husband went to her for change to meet emergencies of like nature.

Surely Minokichi was a lucky man, in spite of his blindness. He had been married nearly two years now, and a baby boy had come to cement the union even more closely. O Koto San worked, if such a thing were possible, more diligently with her baby tied to her shoulders than she had at the beginning. Her rosy face was perhaps a thought less rosy, her curly hair a trifle less abundant, but she was just as cheerful and energetic in her care for two as she had been when her husband was her only thought. The little shop was her idea, and the stock in trade the saving from her cigarette work. They lived on the very edge of Tokyo, just where the city streets turn into narrow lanes and then into the dyked roadways across the rice-fields. Koto’s shrewd business sense realized that if she had to offer to passing jinrikisha-men just such things as they might need when starting out for a long country run or returning, she might make a profit from her savings. And so the things had been bought and set in place, and already more than one kurumaya had discovered the smiling face of the shop-keeper, and had bought from her, exchanging at the same time a few pleasant words, for the sake of her bright eyes, her shining teeth, and her low bows.

Minokichi was waiting for the temple bell to strike, and as the first deep boom sounded he rose to his feet, struck the ground with his staff, and felt his way out into the narrow road.

“If I am late,” he said, “close the shutters, and I will call you when I come. I am going to try a new part of the district. Perhaps I can find that rich man again who gave me so much money once. He was over near Koishikawa.”[31] He moved cautiously down the street, rapping his stick on the ground and blowing his whistle, signs to all passers that a blind _amma_ was on the march.

It was nearly six o’clock, and the sun was low at his back, when Minokichi, tapping and whistling, reached the northeast corner of Ushigomé, close to the Koishikawa district. He had spent about an hour at one of his regular places of call, rubbing and kneading the head and shoulders of an overworked newspaper-man, preparing him for his night at the office. For this service he had received, with many bows and protestations of gratitude, the sum of eight cents, carefully folded in white paper. Then he had felt his way, by the sun at his back and the autumn wind on his left cheek, along the narrow, crooked streets, to the very border of his own district. Here he paused, wondering whether it would be better to go on to Koishikawa, or to return by devious routes to O Koto San, trusting to chance for one or two more calls on the way.

As he stood in hesitation he heard a voice, a sharp, boy’s voice, of curiously staccato utterance. “Amm’ San!”[32] it said.

Minokichi cocked his head in the direction from which the sound came and answered “Hai!”

Then he heard the soft pat-pat of bare running feet. They sounded like a dog’s feet, he thought, as they came near him, and he was almost surprised when the boy’s voice close by said “Come,” and a small, firm hand took hold of his and began to lead him, not toward Koishikawa, nor yet toward his home, but northward across the rice-fields along the city’s edge. He walked for miles, clutched by the firm little hand. “The master is ill,” was all the answer that his guide gave to his inquiries. The sun had long been down; he could feel the chill of the autumn evening, and hear the shrill piping of the autumn insects, before they reached their destination.

“Careful! Amm’ San,” called the shrill staccato voice, and Minokichi reached with his stick to feel the stone threshold of a gateway. Then a muffled bell sounded, and he felt against his cheek the slight stirring of the air caused by the bell-rope in the hands of his guide.

“Is it a temple or a _yashiki_?”[33] asked Minokichi of himself, for he had long before ceased trying to get information from his taciturn young escort. “That bell and rope seem like the entrance to a temple. Perhaps it is a priest who is ill, and this is his acolyte.”

Then came the swift rattle of a sliding lattice, and as he bowed and entered the narrow doorway that he knew must be in front of him, he heard the soft, sibilant purr of sliding _shoji_, and the patter of _tabi_-shod feet upon matted floors.

“Good-evening,” he said, sucking in his breath and bending double as he stood at the entrance of the house.

The small, firm hand that had led him relaxed its grasp.

“Amm’ San,” came the sound of a woman’s voice, “you are welcome! Enter, if you please!”

Minokichi slipped from his clogs to the polished wooden step, then up to the floor above, and fell on his knees with his forehead to the mats, sucking in his breath, and murmuring in politest terms his desire to be of service to the master.

“Come quickly, please!” It was the woman’s voice again, so anxious, so hurried, with utterance so clipped and abrupt, that Minokichi could hardly understand her words. A soft hand slipped into his, and he was led by passageways with polished wooden floors and through spacious matted apartments, sweet-smelling with the odors of fresh straw and aromatic cedar.

“A great lord’s _yashiki_,” thought Minokichi, as he sniffed the air and felt the polished wood beneath his feet.

“This is the master’s room. Enter,” said the woman’s voice again, and a sound of sobbing followed.

Once more Minokichi fell on his face and with his forehead to the mats. The sobbing ceased, and in the silence he heard long, gasping breaths, as if some one lay dying close beside him.

“This is the master,” said the voice again. “Do what you can to make him easier.”

With deft and tender touch Minokichi placed his practiced fingers on the quivering body at his side. In spite of his awe and sympathy, a pleasant thought came to his mind. The master wore a wadded silk kimono, and visions of his former princely patron came before him to make him work with redoubled skill and patience. He felt the rigid muscles relax little by little under his hand, the convulsive quivering cease, the labored breathing grow soft and regular.

For hours he worked over the sufferer, and at last, as he stopped to wipe the streaming perspiration from his face, the woman’s voice, quieter and less anxious, said to him, “That is enough, Amm’ San. You are very skillful. The master is really resting now. Come with me and rest yourself awhile. You must be tired.”

Minokichi bowed, and murmured very softly his formula of self-depreciation. Then a soft hand took hold of his and led him from the room.

“Forgive our rudeness,” said the voice again, “in that we offered you no refreshment when you came. The master was suffering so that we were forgetful of all else. Kindly accept this tea, and smoke your pipe, and soon there will be some humble repast ready for you before you leave us.”

Minokichi was glad enough to sit in the quiet of the room to which he had been led, to smoke his tiny pipe and drink the tea set before him, and reflect on the events of the evening and the possibilities of his fee, while he rested from his protracted efforts. The time seemed very short to him before soft footsteps on the mats and the gentle shoving of trays toward him told that the promised refreshment had arrived.

“It is a poor meal,” said the woman’s voice once more. “Please pardon it, for we have been so troubled by the master’s illness.”

Minokichi had never tasted such food as the “poor meal” thus politely offered. Fit for the gods, it seemed to him. He ate sparingly, however, for he did not wish to seem a rude and churlish person, who knew no better than to eat up clean all that was set before him. When he had finished, he returned thanks to his unseen hostess, bowing low with face to the floor in the direction whence came the sound of quick breathing, so rapid that it seemed to him like the panting of a dog.

“Poor lady,” he thought, “she is still worried about the master.”

As he left the house, a heavy folded white paper was placed in his hand, and a wooden box, containing, as he knew, the remains of his feast, was given him. In an ecstasy of thanks and protestations he committed himself to the firm clutch of his first small guide, whose shrill voice uttered the single word, “Come.”

So fast the little feet at his side pattered along, that Minokichi was nearly out of breath when at last his companion relinquished his hold, and with a jerky “Say nar’”[34] left him standing alone, staff in hand. Just then a great bell began to toll, and he knew that he was near his own home, on the north edge of Ushigomé. Slowly, with leisurely waits between the strokes, the ringer beat out the hour. It took a long time to reach the tenth stroke, and Minokichi was sure then that it was through.

“Koto will be fast asleep, and I shall have to wake her,” he said, and started to feel his way home. “Eleven” boomed the bell, and Minokichi hurried faster. “Poor Koto! If she is not asleep, she will be anxious about me.” “Twelve,” and the whirring, buzzing reverberations seemed close to his ear, so near was he to the temple. With clattering clogs and tapping staff the blind man broke into a run, and in a few moments was standing by his own house.

“Koto,” he called very softly, so that the neighbors should not be disturbed. His quick ear caught the rustle within, and he knew that she was awake. He heard her scratch a match and speak a soothing word in response to the baby’s sleepy murmur, then the wooden shutter was pushed gently aside, just wide enough to admit the _amma’s_ slender body.

“It is very late,” he said softly, as he entered, “but I have had such an evening!” and he told her what had befallen him. “The fee should be a good one,” he said when he had finished his story, “for they were very grand people. A great house, and, oh, such a supper!”

As he spoke, he drew the folded paper from his bosom. “Let us see what it is,” he said. “It’s very heavy! Perhaps they paid it all in tempō sen!”[35]

He laid the bundle on the floor and opened it. O Koto’s eyes shone as she saw the yellow glint of the great gold pieces--five of them--antique oval ōban,[36] such as no one saw in these days, except in pictures, or in yellow tin counterfeits hung to the masts of the “ships of fortune.”

“Minokichi, it’s all in gold!” she said solemnly. “Surely it must have been a great prince who called you in. No one but a prince would give such a fee to an _amma_!”

“Surely, it was a prince,” said Minokichi joyfully. “I thought so from the house and the _go chiso_.[37] And now, let us look at the _go chiso_,” and he took up the wooden box that he had brought with him. “Open it, Koto. You never tasted such food in all your life.”

O Koto San opened it, and as she saw the contents, her face fell and a look of terror came into it.

“Taste it, Koto, and see if it’s not good,” insisted Minokichi, but Koto made no answer. “What is the matter, Koto? Why don’t you say something?” Her husband turned his blind face toward her expectantly.

“Minokichi,” she said, and her voice was strange and scared, “there is no food here, nothing but grass and leaves. You have been fooled, and may the gods protect us, for I believe that it was to the foxes you went to-night, and that you have been bewitched.”

“There is the money,” said Minokichi. “This box was packed with grass and leaves by mistake. The gold is here to prove that I was not bewitched,” and he clinked the gold coins together reassuringly.

But O Koto San, who was from the country, and who knew much more about the ways of foxes than did her city-bred husband, shook her head, and murmured something about “to-morrow.”

They did not sleep a great deal that night, Minokichi for thinking of his good luck, Koto in dread of some strange trick that the foxes might have in store for them all. When morning came, they were glad to rise early and go about their common, every-day tasks. Neither spoke of last night’s experience until the shutters had been opened, the beds folded and laid away in the closet, the floors swept, the _shoji_ dusted, and Minokichi seated at his breakfast, with Koto by the rice-bucket, waiting to refill his bowl. Then he spoke:--

“Koto, just get that paper that I brought home, and see if your eyes deceived you last night about the gold. If you are right, there will be nothing here this morning but grass, or at most, tempō sen.”

Koto fetched her little iron-bound cash-box, opened it with the key which she wore always hung about her neck, and drew out the white paper. Her face brightened when she heard its golden chink, while her husband laughed triumphantly. As she opened it the coins shone bright and yellow, no copper tempō sen, but gold ōban, without a doubt. She dropped them one by one upon the mat, counting as she did so. “One, two, three, four”--She shook the paper, felt in her belt, her sleeves, her bosom, searched the box, got up and shook herself. Where was the fifth? One green leaf lay on the floor and four gold pieces.

“How many did we count last night?” she asked of Minokichi.

“Five,” he answered.

“There!” she cried, “it was the foxes that bewitched you, and one of those pieces is a green leaf this morning!”

“Nonsense!” said Minokichi. “You must have made a mistake in your counting last night. You were sleepy, and probably you saw more than there were.”

He laughed affectionately. Koto was so clever and business-like that it was rather pleasant to catch her in a mistake once in a while. But Koto would not accept his theory. She was sure of her own, and worried lest all their gold should depart as had the fifth piece.

When Minokichi was ready for his afternoon start, Koto, her baby firmly tied to her back, slipped into her clogs and stood beside him. “If you go to your fox-place again, I am going with you,” she said decidedly. “I at least can see, and the foxes will not find me quite so easy to fool. O Kin San from next door will mind the shop, and I can walk as far and as fast as you.”

Minokichi demurred. It was not customary for an _amma_ to go about his work escorted by his wife and baby. His princely patron, if they should be lucky enough to find their way to him, might not be willing to employ a man so accompanied. But Koto was firm. She would not interfere with her husband’s business. She would follow him at a discreet distance, and pretend she had nothing to do with him. But go she would, and so they started, Minokichi tapping and whistling in front, Koto and the baby clattering along a few paces behind. As they passed the house of the newspaper-man, a servant who had been watching for the _amma_ called him in, and so it happened that the sun was low when the trio reached the spot where the day before Minokichi had been accosted by the shrill-voiced, barefooted messenger.

O Koto San, who, while her husband was rubbing the newspaper-man, had visited a neighboring temple and made an offering and a prayer to Kwannon, the Goddess of Mercy, felt fairly bold and cheerful by now. The chink of the gold was in her ears, its glitter dazzled her eyes. It was at her suggestion that Minokichi turned northward, and struck out by the dyked roadway in the same direction that he had taken the night before under guidance. They walked a long, long way. The sun went down and the moon came up over the rice-fields, the wind blew chill, the dead leaves rattled on the trees by the wayside.

Poor Koto shivered, and called out to her husband walking in front, “Let’s go home! There is no _yashiki_ here,--only rice-fields and a clump of trees ahead. Come home! Don’t you know by now that you were bewitched last night?”

“Just a little farther, Koto,” pleaded Minokichi. “I am sure we are almost there.”

They walked on, Minokichi feeling the way very carefully with his staff. When they reached the clump of trees, he turned aside, fumbling with his stick until it sounded on stone. “Here it is,” he said, and passed under a low, red _torii_[38] that stood hidden among the giant cedars.

O Koto followed, trembling. It was a little Inari[39] shrine, and before it sat two grinning stone foxes. Minokichi went swiftly forward on the stone-paved walk, sure of his way now, and passed between the guardian images. He lifted his hand and swung the cobwebbed, knotted rope that dangled before a gong above the entrance. A dull, metallic boom smote the silence, but there was no sound in answer to the summons. O Koto shuddered, and the baby struggled restlessly in its wrappings.

At last Minokichi turned sadly. “I am afraid the master is dead, for the house is closed. We will go home now.”

Just then Koto, whose fears had not dulled her wits, noticed a dark object lying close to the foundation of the temple. Her first thought was to seize Minokichi’s hand and run, her next, to find out now what this mystery might be. Controlling her desire to shriek, she went on, to take a nearer look at the crouching body, and by the moon’s bright light, shining through a gap in the trees, she saw that it was a great dead fox, with gray lips drawn back from his toothless jaws in a ghastly grin.

“Poor Minokichi,” she said, “here is your prince. The grandfather of all the foxes he must have been. Even your skill could not save him.”

Minokichi walked on in silence, nor did his wife lag far behind, for across the deserted rice-fields came to her ears a dismal yapping and wailing, the mourning of the foxes for “the master.”

To this day O Koto San does not know whether her husband believes in his own bewitchment. The four ōban remained as they were, and Minokichi, who is a rich man now, thanks to the gold and to O Koto’s clever management, dates all his good luck from that night when he was led out across the rice-fields to minister to the dying man. And when O Koto shakes her head and talks of “Kitsuné Yashiki,” he laughs, and warns her that fox-gold may turn to leaves over night.

FOOTNOTES:

[27] One of the great merchant firms of Japan.

[28] The principal business street of Tokyo.

[29] One of the districts of Tokyo.

[30] Rice-dumpling, a special festival dish.

[31] One of the districts of Tokyo.

[32] _Amma San_, “Mr. Amma.” The clipped utterance in this and in other speeches is quite un-Japanese, and must have sounded foreign to Minokichi.

[33] A great house, belonging to a noble or samurai of high rank.

[34] _Sayo nara_, “Good-by,” another example of the curious clipping of speech that characterizes foxes masquerading as human beings.

[35] A large oval copper coin, worth about eight mills.

[36] A large oval gold coin, worth about eighty dollars.

[37] Honorable feast, a term applied to any special delicacy served to guests.

[38] An erection in the form of a gateway that marks the approach to a temple or sacred place.

[39] The god of rice, whose messengers are foxes.