One morning, like all the other mornings before it, Kendu was cleaning up the kitchen. A Buddhist novice, working his five years in service to the monastary so that the brothers -- the monks -- would be able to see if he was worthy of being accepted into their order. Kendu had done his job well. The copper pots, and woks and spoons all newly washed hung from their hooks, and dripped onto the bamboo grate which served for a floor. Over at the kitchen's far end the fire was burning brightly, though Kendu saw with the eye of an experienced kitchen-hand that it would be time once again soon to tramp through the snowy woods around Kyoto and gather moss to keep the stove going.
All of these tasks were well in hand and planned, and Kendu proceeded through the kitchen with a practised step, whistling and tidying. Suddenly his whistling stopped. The copper cauldron, a small one, but one which bore the ideogram of the Buddha Himself was lying overturned on the floor of the kitchen! A terrible oversight, Kendu thought. If the head cook came in now it would mean a night in the woodshed, far away from the warm hay in the barn where he usually slept. Looking around to make sure he was not noticed, Kendu hurriedly ducked down to pick up the cauldron. But the refractive bit of cookware moved out of his grasp! Not only that, but it gave an audible squeak in doing so, which made Kendu utter a cry of his own in return. He then lunged at the cauldron, and this time it jumped all the way across the kitchen.
At this point Kendu was more angry than surprised. Obviously some sort of animal was trapped underneath, and it would be up to him to get it out. He picked up a broom from the rack where he kept it, and with the solid end, gingerly hooked the cauldron's wire handle. Kendu could not have been prepared for what happened next. The pot began to jump and rattle, as if possessed. It rolled over onto its side, and Kendu could see that it was brimming with reddish, shiny fur. The cauldron then gave another squeak, and tipped over onto its feet, which Kendu now saw had turned into small paws. As he followed it in its random path around the kitchen, the cauldron skipped and danced, giving out as it went small sounds which to Kendu sounded like the words "Nuki-nuki, Ta Ta, Nuki!"
A Shinto kitchen was not the right place for a haunted pot, so Kendu followed it with his broom, and began swatting it, trying to push it out the door. The cauldron ran and danced out of the way of his broom, still making its chant, which had turned into a kind of song. "Te- te ta-ta ta-nuki-nuki!"
"What is this?" The head cook was at the doorway, his broad shoulders nearly filling its entire width. Kendu froze in half swat, while the cauldron continued its eccentric way around the room. "Nothing, your reverence,' answered an anxious Kendu, "I was only tidying up the kitchen!" The cauldron scurried up behind him. Now on one of the ornamnetal ends it had grown an animal's head, like that of a small badger. The other end had become a short pointed tail, wagging like that of a dog's.
"You imbecile!" cried the head cook with a wail that is quite impossible to reproduce here. "You've let a tanuki into the kitchen!"
"I'll get it out directly," said a chastened Kendu, and raised his broom to strike.
"No! Don't do that!" the cook boomed and placed a hand on Kendu's broom. "It's grievous bad luck to harm a Tanuki. Once it's here, it's here. There's no getting rid of it." Kendu lowered his broom, looking quite defeated. The tanuki, now quite furry all over and no longer a pot, had stopped it skipping and looked up at the two men with intelligent brown eyes.
"You have a new task," announced the cook. "It is up to you to take care of this animal. Feed it, and make sure it gets into no mischief." You brought it in, it is your responsibility."
So Kendu accepted taking care of the Tanuki, through his time in the kitchen. And after, when he had passed his probation and was accepted into the brotherhood. Indeed, he never let his charge out of the kitchen, but taught it, as he had been taught, in the ways of the monks, which though the tanuki had the appearance of a beast, it learned as well as a human being. Soon, though not a priest, it began wearing a priest's robes, and wrote with a brush many fine scrolls of worship. The monastery prospered under a spell of good luck, and so did Kendu.
(c) Jack Ruttan, 1998