Chapter Text
Deep in the forest, where no road dared to reach, stood an abandoned Inari shrine.
Its torii gate leaned with age, paint long worn away by rain and sun. Moss claimed the stone path, and fallen leaves gathered faster than the wind could carry them off. No footsteps echoed here. No prayers lingered. For years, perhaps longer, no one had come.
Until Kohane did.
She found the shrine by accident, following a narrow trail that felt more like a trace than a path. When the trees parted and the torii appeared before her, she stopped, heart skipping.
“…There’s a shrine here?”
The air was quiet. Too quiet.
Kohane stepped through the gate and bowed, a little stiff, hands fumbling as she tried to remember what she had once seen others do. The offering box was empty, coated in dust. The buildings creaked softly, worn but standing.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”
She should have left.
Instead, she returned the next day. And when evening came, she didn’t go back.
Kohane stayed.
She cleaned a small corner of the shrine and laid out her belongings as carefully as if she were asking permission. Nights were cold, the forest loud with unfamiliar sounds, but she endured them quietly. If she was going to take responsibility for the shrine, she decided, then she would do so properly.
From then on, this place became her home. She swept every morning, even when no one came. She repaired what she could, learned through trial and error, and pieced together rituals from memory alone. Her bows were uneven, her offerings imperfect, but her hands never shook.
“I might be doing this wrong,” she murmured one afternoon as she adjusted the altar. “But… it doesn’t feel right to leave you like this...”
From the branches above, something watched.
A divine messenger of Inari lingered just beyond the shrine’s boundary, tail flicking lazily as she observed the human who had chosen to stay where no one else would. Kohane did not come and go. She lived here. Slept here. Cared for the shrine as if it had always been waiting for her.
Curiosity bloomed.
Then one day, Kohane felt it. She paused mid-sweep, the hairs on her arms lifting. Slowly, she looked up.
A white fox lounged atop the torii gate, fur bright against the shadows, eyes gleaming with quiet amusement.
“Ah,” the fox said lightly. “You noticed.”
Kohane froze. Then she bowed deeply, the broom nearly slipping from her hands.
“A-Are you watching over this shrine?” she asked. The fox laughed softly. “Watching you, mostly.”
Light rippled through the air, and in a blink, the fox stood as a young woman instead, blue hair catching the sunlight, smiling easy and bold.
“Name’s An,” she said. She hopped down from the gate and circled Kohane, eyes sharp but kind. “You live here now, don’t you?”
Kohane nodded. “If… that’s alright.”
That was enough to answer.
From then on, the shrine was still quiet, still hidden deep in the forest, but it was no longer abandoned.
And Kohane was no longer alone.
—----------------------------------------
Morning arrived quietly at the abandoned Inari shrine, announced not by bells or visitors, but by the steady rhythm of a broom brushing against stone.
Kohane moved carefully as she swept fallen leaves from the shrine path, her sleeves tied up clumsily so they wouldn’t drag against the ground. She worked alone, humming faintly under her breath. The melody wasn’t anything she’d learned properly, it simply came to her.
Above her, perched unreasonably on top of the torii gate, something white stirred.
“An-sama… If you sleep over there, you might fall again…”
Kohane reached up with the tip of her broom, nudging gently at the fox-shaped presence sprawled across the gate. The creature didn’t move at first, for one pale ear twitching in mild annoyance. Then, slowly, one eye cracked open.
The fox sighed.
In a shimmer of light, white fur became short blue hair, and the divine kitsune stretched in her human form, still balanced atop the torii as though gravity were merely a suggestion.
“Hoaam… Kohane,” An drawled, blinking sleep from her eyes, “I told you multiple times to just call me An, aren’t I?”
“An-sama!” Kohane protested immediately, her voice rising as she noticed the kitsune shifting her weight, “It’s dangerous! You’ll fall!”
An glanced down at her, amusement gleaming brightly in her eyes. Slowly, and deliberately, she shifted again.
And then she let herself drop.
“An-sama!!!”
Kohane dropped her broom without thinking, arms reaching out in pure panic. Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest,
Only for white fur to flash in midair.
An transformed instantly, landing lightly on the ground before springing upward and settling neatly into Kohane’s arms, her kitsune form curling comfortably against the miko’s chest.
Kohane staggered a little before regaining her balance, clutching the fox protectively.
“An-sama… please do give me warning the next time you’re going to do this…” she sighed, relief washing over her as she carefully picked up her broom again, mindful not to disturb her passenger.
The fox merely yawned, eyes already drifting shut.
Cradling An, Kohane walked into the shrine’s inner room. The building was old. Its wood worn smooth by time, its paint faded, its sacred ropes fraying at the edges. It wasn’t a place many humans visited anymore. Kohane didn’t know when it had been abandoned, only that it felt wrong to leave it that way.
She gently placed An onto a cushion near the altar and the kitsune curled up immediately, tail flicking once before going still.
Kohane smiled softly.
Her days were always like this. Quiet, busy, and a little improvised. She had found the shrine by accident, learned what she could by observing old texts and half-forgotten practices, and did everything on her own. She wasn’t sure if she was doing things “right,” but she believed that sincerity mattered more than perfection. And somehow, the shrine remained standing.
Kohane stepped back outside to continue her work.
An tilted her head, tail swaying lazily behind her as her gaze drifted over the quiet shrine grounds. The roof tiles were uneven, the offering box a little worn, and fallen leaves had already begun to gather again despite Kohane’s careful sweeping.
“Kohane~,” An sing-songed, “Isn’t it tough to maintain this shrine all by yourself~?”
Kohane paused mid-sweep and let out a small, thoughtful hum before smiling back at An.
“Well… it is pretty secluded,” she admitted. “I found it by accident, after all.” Her fingers tightened around the broom handle. “I may not be a proper shrine maiden, and I don’t know all the etiquette, but… I can’t just leave it alone.”
She glanced toward the main hall, sunlight filtering softly through the trees.
“It’s still a place where people could come to pray. A place that’s… alive.” Kohane smiled a little wider. “So while I’m here, I might as well clean it up.”
Then, almost shyly, she added, “Besides, I have you here with me, An-sama. So it’s not that lonely.”
There was a brief pause.
“Ko~hane~~!”
An launched herself forward without warning, arms wrapping around Kohane from behind in an exaggerated back hug. The impact nearly sent them both toppling over, broom wobbling dangerously as Kohane hurried to steady herself.
“A-An-sama!”
An laughed, pressing her cheek against Kohane’s shoulder. “You’re way too earnest, you know that? You say things like that so casually~”
Kohane let out a small, helpless laugh and gently held onto An’s wrists, her expression soft. “I mean it,” she said quietly. “But I still need to finish cleaning.”
“Aww.” An pouted dramatically, then brightened as an inspiration struck. “Alrighty then!”
Before Kohane could react, An slipped out of her grasp and reappeared with a familiar glass bottle already in hand.
"I’ll take this as compensation,” An declared cheerfully. “Since you won’t spend time with me.”
“An-sama!” Kohane gasped, reaching out as the kitsune darted away. “At least let me properly make an offering!”
An only laughed, already bounding off toward the trees with the bottle raised triumphantly. “Too late~!”
Kohane stood there for a moment, hands still outstretched, before sighing fondly. She shook her head, picked up her broom, and returned to her work, muttering a quiet apology to the shrine as she did.
Above her, the forest rustled with laughter.
—----------------------------------------
Far from the shrine, something violent tore through the forest.
Akito moved like a blade, boots barely touching the ground as he closed the distance in long, strides. The markings along his arms burned faintly beneath his skin, yasha blood roaring awake at the scent of an oni so close.
“There,” he muttered.
Toya barely had time to turn before steel crashed against his guard.
The impact rang through the trees, raw power colliding with raw defiance. Toya staggered, claws scraping uselessly against Akito’s blade as the yasha pressed forward without mercy. Every strike was precise, relentless. Meant not to wound, but to end.
“You’re bleeding already,” Akito said, voice calm. “This won’t take long.”
Toya snarled and forced himself upright, ignoring the heat spreading through his side. He swung back hard, horns flaring faintly as demonic strength surged through his limbs. For a moment, the forest shifted beneath them, branches snapping as their blows sent shockwaves through the woods.
Then pain caught up.
Akito slipped past Toya’s guard and struck.
The blade tore into his side, deep enough to steal the air from his lungs. Toya gasped, vision flashing white, blood spilling warm and fast. He staggered back, barely managing to stay on his feet.
Akito didn’t hesitate.
“Stay down,” he commanded. “You’re done.”
No.
Toya clenched his jaw, every breath burning as he forced his body to move. He lunged, not to attack, but to break away. His claws raked blindly, buying him a heartbeat. That was all he needed.
He ran.
The forest blurred as Toya crashed through it, each step heavier than the last. Blood soaked into his clothes, dripped onto roots and leaves, marking his path too clearly. His strength bled out with every stride, muscles screaming in protest.
Behind him, Akito followed. Effortless. Unhurried.
“You can’t outrun this,” Akito called, voice carrying easily through the trees. “You’re an oni. You’ll leave a trail wherever you go.”
Toya didn’t answer.
He forced himself onward, lungs burning, vision narrowing. His legs trembled, threatening to give out beneath him, but he refused to stop. Not yet.
Think.
He veered sharply, crashing through dense bushes, tearing at his skin without care. He doubled back once, then again, scrambling over fallen logs, plunging into shallow streams to wash the scent of blood away. Each movement sent agony lancing through his side, but he gritted his teeth and kept moving.
Just a little more.
Akito slowed.
He halted at the edge of a stream, eyes narrowing as the trail thinned, then vanished altogether. The forest grew still.
“…Hiding,” he murmured.
For the first time, irritation edged his voice.
“Tch.”
Akito straightened, blade lowering slightly.
“Run while you can,” he said quietly, though there was no one to hear him. “It won’t change the ending.”
Far away, Toya collapsed against a tree, breath ragged, blood pooling beneath him. His vision swam, darkness creeping in at the edges.
But he was alive.
For now.
The wound at his side burned fiercely, his breath coming in shallow gasps as his vision blurred. He stumbled through the trees, unaware of where he was going, only knowing that he needed to keep moving.
Until the forest opened.
An old torii gate stood ahead, weathered but upright. A shrine. Quiet, untouched, faintly warm with spiritual presence.
He barely had time to register the sight of a lone miko sweeping the grounds before his legs gave out beneath him.
—----------------------------------------
When Toya awoke, the first thing he noticed was the smell of herbs.
The second was pain, dulled, treated, carefully bound.
He opened his eyes slowly.
A timid-looking miko knelt beside him, her expression focused yet gentle as she worked on his wound. Near her, seated comfortably as if she owned the place, was a divine kitsune watching him with sharp interest.
Toya tensed immediately, claws threatening to emerge.
He tried to move, to flee, but his body refused him.
Before panic could fully take hold, a small hand pressed firmly against his shoulder.
“Please,” Kohane said quietly, not fearful, just earnest. “You’re still injured.”
The kitsune smiled faintly. “An oni treated by a human…” An mused, tails swaying behind her. “Ironic, isn’t it?”
Toya didn’t answer.
Kohane met his gaze instead, steady and sincere.
“If you don’t mind,” she said, “you can stay here until you recover.”
The shrine, for the first time in a long while, held more than silence.
—----------------------------------------
The days that followed passed more quietly than Toya expected.
He stayed where he was told to stay. Mostly.
At first, he only watched.
Kohane moved constantly, as if the shrine itself demanded motion from her, sweeping, preparing offerings, adjusting charms she clearly wasn’t confident about. An lingered nearby, sometimes helping, more often teasing, always watching.
Toya remained seated, wound aching dully beneath its bindings.
This place was strange. No one came. No one prayed. And yet, the miko worked as if visitors might arrive at any moment.
On the third day, he found himself standing without realizing it.
Leaves had gathered again along the stone path, undoing Kohane’s earlier work. Without a word, Toya bent down and began clearing them, movements slow but deliberate. The motion pulled sharply at his wound, but he ignored it.
When Kohane noticed, she froze.
“Y-You don’t have to-!”
“I know,” Toya said, not looking up. “I can still do this.”
She hesitated, then nodded. “Then… Please don’t push yourself.”
From then on, it became a quiet routine.
He carried things when Kohane’s arms were full. Hold ladders steady. Fixed small breaks in the wooden steps with a precision that suggested long familiarity with repair. Sometimes he worked while Kohane rested, sometimes the other way around.
No one said much.
But the shrine felt… less heavy.
An watched it all with narrowed eyes and a knowing smile, tails flicking lazily as she perched nearby.
“Looks like you’re settling in,” she remarked one afternoon.
Toya said nothing.
But he did not stop working. And somewhere beyond its boundaries, a yasha felt the shift, and began to close in.
—----------------------------------------
The wind changed first.
An felt it and sighed, rolling onto her back atop the shrine roof.
“Oh, come on,” she muttered.
Below, Kohane was sweeping the courtyard, humming softly while Toya gathered fallen leaves into a basket beside her. The afternoon light made everything feel gentle, An thought, for what was approaching.
A footsteps sounded at the edge of the shrine grounds.
“You’re trespassing,” An called lazily, her voice echoes through the shrine, not even bothering to look yet. “And judging by that stench of blood and resentment, I’m guessing you’re not here to pray."
Akito stepped out from the trees.
His eyes locked onto the courtyard, and then, immediately, onto Toya.
“…So this is where you crawled off to,” he said.
Toya stiffened.
Kohane turned. “Ah! Um, excuse me, this shrine is currently-”
“Busy sheltering an oni?” Akito cut in sharply.
An finally sat up.
Oh. That kind of day.
She dropped down from the roof, landing lightly between Akito and the others. Her smile was lazy, but her eyes were anything but.
“Yasha,” she greeted. “You’re a long way from your hunting grounds.”
Akito’s gaze flicked to her. “A kitsune.”
“A divine one,” An corrected cheerfully. “Important difference.”
“I don’t care what you are,” Akito said, already shifting his stance. “Step aside.”
“Mm. No.” An tilted her head. “See, I’ve been having a very peaceful afternoon. And you’re doing that thing where you ruin it.”
Behind her, Kohane’s hands clenched around the broom. “An-sama…?”
Akito’s eyes narrowed. “You let a human tend him.”
Kohane flinched, but lifted her head. “He was injured.”
“That’s not an excuse.”
“It is to me.”
An clicked her tongue. “You heard her. Shrine rules. No slaughtering guests.”
Akito scoffed. “You expect me to ignore an oni just because he’s hiding behind a shrine maiden?”
“I expect you,” An said, smile fading, “to respect this domain.”
For a brief moment, no one moved.
Then Akito saw Toya fully.
The horns. The claws. The calm, defiant stillness of someone who knew he’d been found.
That was enough.
Akito moved.
Steel flashed toward Toya and a foxfire erupted.
An boldly intercepted the strike mid-swing, energy cracking like lightning as she forced Akito back. Her stance dropped, claws bared, presence blooming outward until the very air screamed do not cross.
“This,” she said, voice cold and resonant, “is a sacred domain of Inari-sama.”
The ground seemed to tremble.
“Bear your weapon here again,” An continued, “and I will not let you leave.”
Toya stepped forward despite himself, claws sliding free, placing himself instinctively between Kohane and Akito.
Kohane gasped. “P-Please!”
“I warned you,” Akito snapped, fury burning bright. “Letting him stay was a mistake.”
“But I can’t,” Kohane said, shaking yet resolute. “I won’t ignore someone who’s hurt.”
An glanced at her.
Then straightened.
“…You’re done here,” An told Akito.
Silence stretched.
Slowly, Akito lowered his blade.
But his eyes never left Toya.
“Enjoy your borrowed safety,” he said quietly. “The moment you step outside this shrine…”
He turned away.
“…I’ll finish this.”
Toya said nothing as the forest swallowed Akito whole.
And just like that, the shrine was quiet again, too quiet for what had just passed through it.
~~ tbc. ~~