Story Passport: Night Journeys Through World Cultures

In Japan, some say a fox that lives for a thousand years can grow nine tails. Last week we felt the hot sun on the sands of Egypt. Tonight, we need the cool air. We're going to a festival of lights. Come with me. Picture it. The sun has just set behind the mountains. The air is warm and smells like grilled sweet soy sauce and sugary red beans. Hundreds of paper lanterns hang from strings, glowing like a river of captured stars above your head.

This is the Obon festival, a time to honor the spirits of family who came before. A little girl named Akari is here, her bright red yukata like a poppy in a field of evening blues. She holds her father’s hand, her eyes wide with wonder. She sees something. A flash of orange fur. A flick of a tail. It disappears behind a tall, red gate marking the entrance to a sacred path.

She’s never supposed to go there alone. But she is curious. She lets go of her father's hand. Just for a second. She slips past the gate, into a grove of whispering bamboo. The happy noise of the festival fades. The air grows still. A boy is waiting for her. He’s about her age, and he’s wearing a simple white fox mask. He holds out a piece of mochi, perfectly round and dusted with sweet flour.

He doesn’t speak. He just tilts his head, gesturing for her to follow. He promises the most beautiful view of the festival. Akari hesitates. But his eyes, peeking through the mask, seem to sparkle with mischief, not malice. So she follows. The path gets darker. The bamboo stalks are like tall, silent guards. They stop at a small, moss-covered stone shrine. There are no lanterns here.

Just the moon, filtering through the leaves. "Where is it?" Akari asks, her voice a small sound in the quiet. The boy lets out a soft sound, like rustling leaves. He reaches up. He takes off his mask. It’s not a boy. It’s a fox. A fox standing on its hind legs, its orange fur glowing in the moonlight. One bushy tail swishes gently behind it. A Kitsune. Akari doesn't scream.

She doesn't run. She just stares, breathless. The Kitsune bows its head. It explains, in a voice that sounds like wind chimes, that it was lonely. It wanted to share the festival’s beauty, but from its own special place. It points a slender paw. Through a perfect gap in the trees, she can see it. The entire festival is laid out below them. A flowing river of golden light, pulsing with music she can just barely hear.

It’s the most beautiful sight she has ever seen. The Kitsune then shows her a hidden path that leads right back to the crowds. As she turns to go, she feels something in her yukata's pocket. It’s a single, perfect, fox-shaped cookie. When she looks back, the path is empty. She finds her parents, who hug her tight. And every year after that, when the lanterns rise into the night sky, Akari leaves a single, sweet mochi at the little stone shrine in the bamboo grove.

A thank you, to a friend.