Kyoko's Gift

Left on the steps as a baby, the temple and the monks that occupied it were all Kyoko knew. From an early age, she was taught to work for the good of the temple; her main tasks were keeping the halls clean and preparing the daily meals. She was not allowed to play, only pray, and was forced to watch the families that paid tribute to the temple from the shadows in envy. There was a silver lining; a moment in her day she looked forward to the most. Everyday, after breakfast was served and the morning prayers began, she would sneak away into the surrounding forest to let her imaginations run free. Here among the trees, she was safe from the monks’ reprimands as they never set foot inside. It was riddled with demons, or so they claimed, though Kyoko has yet to see one herself. Alone in that forbidden place, with the woodland creatures as her only audience, Kyoko pictures herself living all the lives she could have lived had the monks not taken her in. In these woods, she pretends she is someone of importance, respected and loved. 

“I brought some mochi today,” she says proudly to her audience of squirrels. A kind old woman had given them to her; she had secreted them away before the monks could take them. “I heard gossip that these were the best around, so of course I had to insist we have them for our tea ceremony.” She carefully rations out the mochi on dishes made of leaves. “I hope it suits your elevated pallets.”

She watches as they eat cautiously, pleased with herself. Only moments later, a sound in the bushes startles them, causing them to scatter.

“Wait,” she cries, but it is too late. 

Her guests are gone, their half eaten mochi left behind. 

The sound in the bushes gets louder, and before she can think of how to react, a fox’s head pops out. It looks around, before stopping to stare at her. She sighs.

“Look what you did,” she says sourly. “You ruined my tea ceremony.” She draws her knees up and turns away. 

As silent tears stream down her cheeks, she feels a nudge on her back. She turns around, but the fox is gone. The temple bells echo through the trees. It is time to go. Wiping her tears, she notices a shiny blue marble on the ground. It is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen and she takes it home with her. Careful to keep it out of sight from the monks, she hides it in her room under her sleeping mat. She would marvel at its brilliance in the middle of the night, and hold it close while she slept. 

The following day, Kyoko finds a flower patch to play in. She is arranging flowers in colorful bundles when she notices the fox from before approaching.

“Come to disturb me again?” she says with a slight smile. “Unfortunately, I’m not holding a tea ceremony today. Today I am practicing ikebana.” 

The fox takes a seat across from her, watching her work. She thrills at the thought of an audience, and sits a little straighter.

“So you wish to learn?” she says with authority. “I’ll have you know I’m a harsh teacher. I expect perfection, so it would be best if you pay close attention. Am I clear?”

The fox blinks.

“Good. Let us begin.”

All through her instruction, the fox stays and patiently listens. They keep on in this fashion until the temple bell rings.

“It’s time for me to go,” she says sadly. “But I have taught you all I know. Now go out into the world and show them the true heart of ikebana!” She bows with a smile as she rises to her feet. 

The fox trots forward and leaves something on the ground before walking away. It is another bead. Kyoko holds it close and hurries away. 

Over and over, this pattern repeated. Kyoko would play in the woods and the fox would join her. When it was time for her to return, the fox would leave her a bead and she’d add it to her growing collection. She was delighted with her new friend and the beads it gifted her. She couldn’t remember a time she had been so happy. 

One day, as she starts down the path to the forest, she is stopped by one of the monks. He grabs her arm roughly, and yanks her back.

“You know that forest is forbidden!” he hollers. “What do you think you are doing?”

“I-I’m only going to pick flowers,” Kyoko stammers.

“Forget the flowers. Go to morning prayers, and stay out of the forest.”

“But—”

“Now!”

With tears in her eyes, Kyoko hurries away. Now that she has been caught, the monks make sure to keep a closer eye on her. She is no longer able to go see the fox. She is no longer able to pretend and dream. 

Days turn into weeks, and weeks to months. She would have believed it was all a dream if she didn’t still have her collection of beads. Secretly, in the middle of the night, she weaves them into a necklace with clumsy hands, all the while remembering the memories they held. She looks at her handy work—the beads catching the moonlight filtering through the doors—and marvels at their beauty. They are the most precious thing she owns. Tears gather in her eyes as she wishes she could see the fox one last time. 

As if in response to her wish, the beads glow and lift into the air. They tug her in the direction of the forest. Startled and a little frightened, she hesitates. She had never left the temple grounds at night before. Who knew what lay in wait for her in the shadows? What if there really were demons and night was the time they roamed? She remembers the fox, and summons her courage. 

With a deep breath, and cautious steps, she follows after the beads. On and on she walks through the dark forest, the glowing beads her only source of light. She walks farther than she ever had, the trees around her becoming unfamiliar. She begins to question where the beads are leading her when they stop before a shrine. 

It is small and modest with only a small tower of rocks to mark it. The beads settle in her hands as something emerges from the bushes. It is the fox.

“It’s you,” she whispers. She tightens her hold on the beads. “I’m sorry I stopped coming. I know you must have wondered where I went.” Tears prick her eyes. “I wanted to thank you for these beads.” She bows. “They are a precious gift I will treasure for always.”

“Raise your head, Kyoko,” a gentle voice says.

She looks up, startled. The fox is gone and in its place stands a beautiful woman. Belatedly, Kyoko realizes she is a kitsune.

“Do not be frightened,” the kitsune says with a smile. “I mean you no harm. I only wished to bestow a gift to a lonely girl.” The kitsune gently brushes her tears away, cradling Kyoko’s cheek in her hand. “I ask only one thing in return for my gift, and it is that you live. Leave the temple and live the life you dream.”

“But how?” Kyoko stares at the ground. “I have no money and no family. The monks and the temple are all I know.”

“Those beads will guide your path. Keep them close, and you shall want for nothing.”

The kitsune’s image fades.

“Wait!” Kyoko shouts. “Please!” She reaches out, but the kitsune is gone.

Lost and alone, she stares at the beads. She isn’t sure how to use them, but she trusts the kitsune was telling the truth. With a sigh, and a little uncertainty, she closes her eyes and thinks of the mochi the kind old woman had given her. She feels the beads lift out of her hands and feels them pull her in a new direction. She laughs, delighted, and glances in the direction of the temple. With a quick bow, and word of thanks, she follows the beads, excited to see what awaits her.