“It’s so beautiful!” the fox-wife said. “A rainy day and a sunny day—at
the same time!” Then she pressed her lips to his paw and said, “Dear hus-
band, forgive my anger!”
He looked around. Brilliant sunlight lit the plummeting drops; it
almost seemed to be raining light. He turned tenderly to his wife.
“How can I have been so stubborn? Please forgive me, too.”
They embraced and, still holding each other, watched the rain.
But in their delight at the sun shower—and their relief at ending the
quarrel, and their weariness at keeping up the false magic for so long—they
suddenly lost all their magical concentration. When they looked back into
each other’s eyes, each saw a stranger. And both realized instantly that
they’d resumed their true appearances.
“Oh no!” the husband cried, step-
ping back.
“But you’re not... !” the wife
sputtered. “So we’ve BOTH been
pretending!”
“Yes,” he said, hanging his head.
“My parents insisted I change my
looks because I’m so plain. They said
you wouldn’t have me.”
“Mine said the same,” she
murmured.
The rain drummed down around
them in big bright drops.
“But wife,” he said quietly, look-
ing deep into her eyes, “I think you’re
beautiful just as you are.”
“Oh husband!” she cried. “And I
would have you—just as you are!”
So they held each other close and
laughed a long laugh, the kind that
comes from deep happiness. And they
were still laughing as they walked arm
and arm back to the farmhouse.
That’s why when a sun shower
comes, the Japanese say the fox bride
is going to her husband’s house.t20