ごん狐 English

I

This is a story I heard when I was small, from an old man in the village named Mohei.

Long ago, near our village, in a place called Nakayama, there was a small castle, and a lord known as the Lord of Nakayama lived there, so they say.

A little way off from that Nakayama, deep in the mountains, there lived a fox called "Gon"

— Gon the Fox.

Gon was a lone little fox who had dug himself a den in a forest thick with ferns, and there he made his home.

Night and day alike, he would wander into the nearby village and make nothing but mischief.

He would break into fields and scatter the yams about, set fire to stalks of rape-seed that had been left out to dry, pull off the chili peppers hanging at the back of farmhouses — all manner of things.

One autumn it happened.

Rain had fallen for two or three days without stopping, and all the while Gon had been stuck inside, crouching in his den.

When the rain let up at last, Gon crept out of his hole with a sigh of relief.

The sky had cleared bright and sharp, and the cry of a shrike rang out, piercing and clear.

Gon made his way out to the embankment along the small stream that ran through the village.

On the pampas grass all around, raindrops still glittered on the tips of the plumes.

The river was usually low, but after three days of rain, the water had swelled enormously.

The clumps of pampas grass and bush clover at the river's edge — grass that in ordinary times never touched the water — had been knocked sideways into the muddy yellow flood, tossing and churning there.

Gon walked along the muddy path, heading downstream.

He glanced over and saw someone in the river, doing something.

Gon crept quietly into a patch of deep grass so as not to be seen, and from there peered out, perfectly still.

"That's Hyojuu,"

thought Gon.

Hyojuu had hitched up his tattered black clothes, waded into the water up to his waist, and was shaking a fish trap net called a harikiri.

On the side of his headband-wrapped face, a round hagi leaf had stuck itself on like a great big mole.

After a while, Hyojuu lifted the rearmost part of the harikiri net out of the water — the part that pouched out like a bag.

Inside were clumps of turf, grass leaves, and rotted bits of wood all jumbled together, but here and there something white glittered.

It was the pale bellies of fat eels and large sillago.

Hyojuu dumped the eels and sillago into his fish basket along with the debris.

Then he tied the mouth of the bag again and put it back into the water.

Hyojuu then picked up the basket, climbed out of the river, left the basket on the embankment, and ran off upstream for some reason, apparently searching for something.

The moment Hyojuu was gone, Gon sprang out of the grass and ran straight to the basket.

He had felt a sudden urge to play a trick.

Gon scooped the fish out of the basket one by one and flung them, pop after pop, into the river below where the harikiri net was set.

Each fish made a "ker-splash"

as it dove into the muddy water.

Last of all he tried to grab the fat eel, but the thing was so slippery it slithered right through his paws and he could not catch it by hand.

Impatient, Gon shoved his whole head into the basket and clamped the eel's head in his mouth.

The eel let out a squeak and coiled itself around Gon's neck.

At that very instant, Hyojuu came from across the way,

"You wretched thieving fox!"

and bellowed at the top of his voice.

Gon startled and leapt into the air.

He tried to shake the eel off and flee, but the eel held fast, still coiled around his neck.

Gon bounded away sideways just as he was, and ran off with all his might.

Near the entrance to his den, under an alder tree, he looked back — but Hyojuu had not given chase.

Gon breathed a sigh of relief, bit through the eel's head, and, finally free of it, laid it on some grass leaves outside his hole.

II

About ten days later, as Gon was passing behind the house of a farmer named Yasuke, he saw Yasuke's wife sitting in the shade of a fig tree, blacking her teeth.

Passing behind the house of Shinbei the blacksmith, he saw Shinbei's wife combing her hair.

Gon

"Hmm, something must be happening in the village."

thought to himself.

"What could it be — the autumn festival? If it were a festival, there ought to be the sound of drums and flutes. And then, first of all, banners should be flying at the shrine."

While pondering this, he walked on and found himself, before he knew it, in front of Hyojuu's house — the one with a red well out front.

Inside that small, tumbledown house, a large number of people had gathered.

Women dressed in their best clothes, towels tucked at their waists, were building fires in the outdoor cooking stove at the front of the house.

Something was simmering and bubbling in a large pot.

"Ah, a funeral,"

thought Gon.

"I wonder who died in Hyojuu's family."

After midday had passed, Gon went to the village cemetery and hid behind the Six Jizo statues.

It was fine weather, and far off in the distance, the roof tiles of the castle shone bright.

Red spider lilies bloomed through the cemetery, spreading like bolts of red cloth.

Then, from the direction of the village, a bell began to toll: clang, clang, clang.

It was the signal that the funeral procession was setting out.

Before long, flickering into view came the figures of the funeral party, dressed in white.

The sound of voices grew closer.

The procession entered the cemetery.

In the wake of those who had passed, the red spider lilies lay trampled.

Gon stretched himself up to look.

Hyojuu, wearing white formal robes, was holding up a memorial tablet.

His face, usually as red and vigorous as a sweet potato, looked somehow wilted today.

"Ah — so it was Hyojuu's mother who died."

Thinking this, Gon drew his head back.

That night, Gon lay in his den and thought.

"Hyojuu's mother must have been bedridden and said she wanted to eat eel. That's why Hyojuu had brought out the harikiri net. But then I went and played my prank and took the eel away. So Hyojuu couldn't give his mother any eel to eat. And then his mother just went and died. She must have died longing for eel — thinking, oh, I want eel, I want eel. Damn — I should never have played such a trick."

III

Hyojuu was washing wheat at the red well.

Up until now Hyojuu had been living with just his mother, the two of them together in poverty, and now that she was dead, he was utterly alone.

"Hyojuu — alone just like me."

Gon, watching from behind the nearby storehouse, thought this to himself.

Gon was about to leave the storehouse and move on when, somewhere, he heard a peddler's voice selling sardines.

"Fresh sardines, cheap! Lively sardines, get 'em here!"

Gon ran toward where that vigorous voice was coming from.

Just then, Yasuke's wife called out from the back door,

"Give me some sardines."

she said.

The sardine seller left his cart, piled with baskets of sardines, by the roadside and carried the gleaming fish in both hands into Yasuke's house.

In that moment, Gon grabbed five or six sardines from one of the baskets and dashed back the way he had come.

Then, through the back door of Hyojuu's house, he tossed the sardines inside and ran back to his den.

Turning to look from the top of a hill along the way, he could see in the distance Hyojuu still at the well, washing wheat, small and far away.

Gon thought he had done one good thing — a first repayment for the eel.

The next day, Gon gathered a large pile of chestnuts in the mountains, carried them in his arms, and went to Hyojuu's house.

Peeking in through the back door, he saw Hyojuu in the middle of eating his midday meal, holding his rice bowl, sitting in a daze and lost in thought.

Strangely, there was a graze on Hyojuu's cheek.

As Gon was wondering what had happened, Hyojuu began to mutter to himself.

"Just who on earth was it that threw sardines into my house? Because of that, I got mistaken for a thief and was treated terribly by that sardine seller."

He was grumbling under his breath.

Gon thought: oh, I've made a mess of things.

Poor Hyojuu — he had been beaten by the sardine seller and even given a wound like that.

Thinking this, Gon quietly went around to the storehouse, left the chestnuts at the entrance, and went home.

The next day too, and the day after that, Gon gathered chestnuts and brought them to Hyojuu's house.

The day after that, he brought not just chestnuts but two or three matsutake mushrooms as well.

IV

It was a beautiful moonlit night.

Gon went out for a leisurely stroll.

He passed below Lord Nakayama's castle and walked a little further, and it seemed someone was coming from the other end of the narrow road.

He could hear the sound of voices.

The pine crickets were singing, chinchororin, chinchororin.

Gon hid at the side of the path and held perfectly still.

The voices drew gradually closer.

It was Hyojuu and a farmer named Kasuke.

"Come to think of it, hey, Kasuke —"

said Hyojuu.

"Hmm?"

"Something very strange has been happening to me lately."

"Like what?"

"I don't know who it is, but ever since Mother died, someone has been giving me chestnuts and matsutake mushrooms, every single day."

"Really? Who?"

"That's just it — I don't know. They leave them while I'm not looking."

Gon followed along behind the two of them.

"Is that so?"

"It's true, I tell you. If you don't believe me, come and have a look tomorrow. I'll show you the chestnuts."

"Well, well — strange things do happen, don't they."

After that, the two of them walked on in silence.

Kasuke glanced back over his shoulder.

Gon flinched, made himself small, and stopped in his tracks.

Kasuke had not noticed Gon, and walked briskly on.

When they reached the house of a farmer named Kichibei, the two of them went inside.

The sound of a mokugyo wooden drum came: pon pon pon pon.

Light fell on the paper screens of a window, and the large shadow of a shaved head moved across them.

Gon thought,

"There must be a nembutsu gathering."

And he crouched by the well, waiting.

After a while, about three more people came along together and went into Kichibei's house.

The sound of sutra-chanting drifted out.

V

Gon crouched by the well until the nembutsu gathering was over.

Hyojuu and Kasuke set off home together again.

Gon followed along, wanting to hear what they were saying.

He walked, treading on Hyojuu's shadow.

When they reached the front of the castle, Kasuke spoke up.

"What we were talking about before — that must surely be the work of the gods."

"What?"

Hyojuu was startled and looked at Kasuke's face.

"I've been thinking about it ever since, and there's no way it could be a human — it's the gods, it is. The gods look with pity on you for being left all alone, and they're giving you all sorts of things out of their compassion."

"You think so?"

"I'm sure of it. So you ought to give thanks to the gods every day."

"Mm."

Gon thought: well, this is a poor reward.

I'm the one who brings him chestnuts and matsutake, and he doesn't thank me at all — he thanks the gods instead. It just doesn't pay.

VI

The very next day, Gon set out again for Hyojuu's house with chestnuts.

Hyojuu was in the storehouse, braiding rope.

So Gon slipped quietly in through the back door of the house.

At that moment, Hyojuu chanced to look up.

A fox was entering the house — there was no mistaking it.

That Gon Fox, who had stolen the eel just the other day — come again to make mischief, has he.

"Right then."

Hyojuu rose, took the matchlock gun hanging in the shed, and loaded it with powder.

Then, moving without a sound, he crept close, and as Gon was just about to step out the doorway, fired — bang.

Gon crumpled and fell.

Hyojuu came running over.

Looking inside the house, his eye fell on a pile of chestnuts heaped together on the earthen floor.

"Oh —"

Hyojuu was struck with shock and lowered his gaze to Gon.

"Gon — was it you? Were you the one who brought chestnuts all this time?"

Gon, utterly spent, eyes shut, gave a small nod.

Hyojuu let the matchlock gun drop with a clatter.

A thin wisp of blue smoke still drifted from the barrel's mouth.