"Buying Mittens" Nankichi Niimi

A cold winter had arrived from the north, reaching the forest where a family of foxes lived. One morning, the little fox tried to step out of their den but quickly ran back to his mother, clutching his eyes and shouting, “Ow! Something’s stuck in my eye, Mama! Take it out, hurry!”

Startled, the mother fox nervously removed the little fox’s hands from his eyes and examined them closely, but nothing seemed to be there. It was only when she stepped out of the den herself that she understood. Overnight, a thick layer of pure white snow had fallen, and the sunlight was now gleaming brightly on the snow, reflecting so intensely that it dazzled the little fox, who had never seen snow before. The glare had made him think something had pierced his eyes.

After a while, the little fox went out to play. He dashed around on the soft, cotton-like snow, kicking up little sprays of snowflakes that sparkled like tiny rainbows in the air.

Suddenly, there was a loud noise behind him, like “thud, thud, whoosh,” and a cloud of powdery snow, as fine as flour, drifted over him. Startled, the little fox rolled and scrambled ten meters away, looking back, but there was nothing there. It was just snow that had fallen from a branch. Fine, white strands of snow still trickled down between the branches like delicate threads of silk.

When the little fox finally returned to the den, he said, “Mama, my paws are cold, they’re tingling!” He held out his rosy, wet paws to his mother. The mother fox gently blew warm breath onto his hands and wrapped them in her own soft, warm ones. “They’ll warm up soon,” she said softly. “Snow makes your hands warm after a while.”

But she couldn’t help worrying about her little one getting frostbite, so she decided that after dark, she would go to town and buy him some woolen gloves that would fit his tiny paws.

As night spread its dark shadow like a blanket across the fields and forest, the snow remained so white that it seemed to glow, no matter how much the darkness tried to cover it.

The silver foxes emerged from their den. The little one walked under his mother’s belly, looking around with his round eyes, blinking at everything in sight.

Soon, a small light appeared in the distance. The little fox spotted it and asked, “Mama, are the stars falling down so low?”

“That’s not a star,” the mother fox said, suddenly stopping in her tracks. “That’s the town’s light.”

Seeing the town’s light brought back a memory for the mother fox. Once, she had gone to town with a friend, and they had gotten into trouble. Her friend hadn’t listened when warned, and tried to steal a duck from a farmer’s house. The farmer caught them, and they had barely escaped with their lives after being chased down.

“Hurry up, Mama! Let’s go!” the little fox called from beneath his mother’s belly, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. Finally, she decided to let her child go to town alone.

“Hold out one of your paws, dear,” the mother fox said. She took his paw in hers, and after holding it for a moment, she transformed it into the hand of a human child. The little fox spread it out, clenched it, pinched it, and sniffed it, puzzled.

“This feels strange, Mama. What is this?” he asked, staring intently at his newly changed hand under the soft light reflecting off the snow.

“That’s a human hand, my dear,” his mother explained. “Now, listen carefully. When you get to the town, there will be many houses. Look for the one with a round hat sign hanging outside. Once you find it, knock on the door and say, ‘Good evening.’ The person inside will open the door just a little. When they do, you must reach in with this hand—this human hand—and ask for gloves that fit it. Remember, never show them your real paw.”

“Why not?” the little fox asked.

“Because humans won’t sell anything to a fox. Worse, they might capture you and lock you in a cage. Humans are truly scary creatures.”

“Oh…”

“So promise me you’ll only use this hand,” the mother fox said, pressing two small silver coins into the human hand. “Now, off you go.”

The little fox began trotting toward the lights of the town, his small feet crunching on the snow. At first, there was only one light, but then two, three, and finally ten appeared, twinkling like colorful stars—red, yellow, and blue—just like he had imagined. When he entered the town, all the houses had already closed their doors, but warm light streamed from the high windows, casting a cozy glow onto the snow-covered streets.

Guided by the faint light above the signs, the little fox searched for the hat shop his mother had told him about. He passed signs for bicycles, eyeglasses, and many other things, some freshly painted and others worn and faded. But the little fox, who had never been to town before, didn’t know what any of them meant.

At last, he found the hat shop. It was marked by a large black silk hat on its sign, illuminated by a blue light.

Following his mother’s instructions, the little fox knocked on the door.

“Good evening,” he called.

There was a soft sound inside, and soon, the door opened just a crack, letting a beam of light stretch out across the snowy street.

The light was so dazzling that the little fox, in his confusion, reached out with the wrong hand—the very paw his mother had warned him not to show.

“Please give me gloves that fit this hand,” he said.

The hat shop owner, taken aback, saw the little fox’s paw. He thought to himself, “Ah, a fox! He must be trying to pay with leaves.” So he said, “Show me the money first.”

Obediently, the little fox handed over the two silver coins. The shopkeeper balanced them on the tip of his finger and tapped them together. They made a clear, ringing sound—definitely real coins, not leaves.

Realizing this, the shopkeeper took a pair of woolen gloves meant for children from the shelf and gave them to the little fox.

The little fox thanked him and began making his way back along the path he had come.

“My mom said humans are scary, but they’re not scary at all. After all, even when the shopkeeper saw my paw, he didn’t do anything,” thought the little fox. Yet, he still felt curious—what were humans really like?

As he passed by a window, he heard voices. They were gentle, soothing, and filled with warmth.

“Sleep, sleep,
In your mother’s arms,
Sleep, sleep,
In your mother’s hands…”

The little fox was sure that this must be a human mother singing. After all, when he went to sleep, his mother would sing to him in just the same gentle voice.

Then, a child’s voice followed, “Mama, on such a cold night like this, the little foxes in the forest must be crying, saying how cold it is, right?”

And the mother replied, “The little foxes in the forest are probably listening to their mothers’ lullabies and falling asleep in their dens. Now, you too, my dear, should sleep quickly. Let’s see who falls asleep first—you or the forest foxes. I’m sure you’ll fall asleep faster.”

Hearing this, the little fox suddenly missed his own mother terribly. He turned and dashed back toward where she was waiting for him.

The mother fox had been anxiously waiting, trembling with worry, for her little one to return. When she finally saw him coming, she embraced him warmly, so overjoyed she nearly cried.

The two foxes walked back to the forest together. The moon had risen, making their silver fur shimmer, and cobalt-blue shadows pooled in their footprints.

“Mama, humans aren’t scary at all.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I accidentally showed my real paw. But the hat shop man didn’t catch me. He gave me these nice, warm gloves!” The little fox proudly clapped his gloved hands together to show them off.

The mother fox, surprised, gasped, “Oh my! Could it be… that humans are actually kind? Could they really be kind after all?” she murmured to herself.