Chapter Text
I never thought I'd reach a point in my life that doing things right would compromise things.
Kita has been the one helping the farmers grow their crops. He was the reason why the harvests were always prosperous. They say he was a gift from God. But Kita never really paid attention to those concepts. To him, it was always about the process. Plowing. Seeding. Harvesting. Doing everything the right way so everyone can live another day.
And that, too, was the very reason why he couldn't understand what was happening. Why he was lifeless at the dead of the night. Why his blood soaked the very land that he was flourishing. All because he was doing things right.
If gods existed, could they hear him now?
It was hard to absorb. The people he worked with everyday whom he put his trust in, his brothers and sisters that endured with him when they had to grow crops albeit the harsh cold of winter, his comrades that he was with when they had little to no rights. Just as before he was bestowed with a part of land for his own as reward for his exemplary performance, he was killed by his own people.
A faint breath escaped his mouth as he stared at the jet-black sky. His eyes twinkled, his tears reflecting the light of the stars. His muscles were powerless, and his body snuggled in the crates of the soil. They left him to die from the cold and bleeding, and it made him contemplate on why he had to suffer like that when they could kill him fast and swiftly instead.
Maybe they saw his submissiveness, he thought. Maybe they realized that he wouldn’t be able to do anything when he’s pushed in a corner. That he is bound to follow anything that dutifully needs to be done.
Or maybe he was becoming too bossy. That everyone around him got sick of it, and getting his own part of land was the last straw. Maybe they thought he didn’t deserve it when he was only telling people what to do and not, when in fact, he was only looking out for everyone.
Whatever the reason was, Kita was sure he was killed for his actions. What was hard to process is that he was trying to do everything right and this was the consequence that he had to bear. The results didn’t really matter to him, but if it was this grave, he couldn’t help but question his everyday habits. What did he do wrong?
“The gods are watching over you,” he remembered his late grandmother saying . He didn’t believe in deities, but he respected how his grandmothers devoutly worshipped them. It probably was her saving grace at the time, where there had been wars with the Mongols. He was too young of a child then, but his grandmother told him that too frequently that it remained in his memory with her.
Until this moment, he never believed in gods. It was mystical, and like some sort of woozy dream from a short, afternoon nap. Slowly, a thick sheet of fog crept and blanketed the land. He couldn’t see the stars anymore, but there was light. The faint light approached him, and it took a strange form of an animal.
It made his thoughts tangle even more. Was he hallucinating?
A soft gush of wind surprised him, and he was hearing gently giggles of children laughing. There were ghostly images of white fox cubs clearing a way for the being, running up his north, like prancing, little clouds. Kita’s mind was a mess, he couldn’t process it all at once.
“My child.” The multitude of voices echoed, ringing in his ears. It woke him up from the lulling pain and felt it excruciatingly more. His breathing hitched and his hands fisted the soil as if his life depended on it.
“Who are you…?” Kita barely muttered.
There was an eerie pause. “I am the land. The fortress. The life that provides. I oversee everything that fuels life.”
He remembered his grandmother, holding his small hand as they looked at the vastness of the rice field. “Anything that we feed on is blessed by the O-Inari. Be thankful,” she gently advised him even when he knew that they were not allowed to eat their own crops. But thankfully, they had something to eat everyday. Even if the food was tasteless, they managed.
"Was this really the consequences of my actions?" Kita's lips were quivering. His tears ran relentlessly, and different kinds of pain were meshing, one stinging in his gut and one panging in his chest.
"Life is a jungle of causes and effects. One thing can directly affect another, even only bumping each other's shoulders. In your life, you were loyal. You did everything right for your clan. You obeyed with deference, even at the cost of hundreds of people starving. And when you are compensated, what do they do to you? They take your life. Only for the cost of relieving their envy."
The bigger red fox walked up to his face, its fur brushing his arms along the way. The creature tenderly nuzzled his cheeks, and it dried his eyes.
"Do not cry. I have seen you work. You treat the land as if it were your child. You plough hard and consistently. No part of the field is not seeded, and you wait patiently for their growth. When it is time for harvest, you collect the fruits of your labor fast and delicately. Your heart is in your work, and it is admirable.”
“So I will give you another chance. Call it what you will - blessing or curse. You will be my messenger, my kitsune. Your role is to be the pillar of the people who sow and reap, who sustain the lives of others. With this life, you are to dedicate it to another.”
Suddenly, the soil created lumps and there sprung thorny vines that slowly slithered onto Kita’s body. He winced in pain, and a scream escaped his mouth when the vines embedded themselves into his skin. Shortly after, they vanished and all that remained were markings. Markings that were in the form of the vines.
“These are the marks of your death. Only you can see them, and the one that will bring your passing. You will not die unless these vines are cut. Unless you meet the person who can see them.”
The animal backed away and soon it became one with the fog, along with the other cubs. “Go. Leave. Run far away from this land.”
Kita sat up. His wounds didn’t heal instantly, but he felt his energy in his muscles.
“Live your life. Feed my people,” the voices echoed in the field as he, too, walked away. As he ran for his life. As he fled from the land he once put his heart and soul.
“Fulfill your duties.”
And in the dead of the night, where the people that were once his friends celebrated as they received the rewards that were supposed to be his, Kita left his former life. He left behind the place where he had his memories with his grandmother and never returned. Slow but steadily, he worked for his new life from the ground up.
He found a new clan that acknowledged his work even though it didn’t matter to him. He was looked up to by a lot of his newfound friends and comrades, and soon he was treated as the workers’ leader. The people listened to his advice, and he stood up to the higher officials that knew nothing about their work. In no time, he became one of the samurai’s and the daimyo’s favorites.
The daimyo made Kita live in his mansion. Kita preferred staying with the farmers but the higher official insisted, admiring his attitude and thinking that he would assist him well. Aran Ojiro enjoyed his company as his retainer. He had him follow everywhere he went.
Today, Aran was checking the new batch of young samurai at the training grounds near the forest. Kita, as it was his duty, followed the man, as they watched the young men practice strength and accuracy.
One man with golden hair caught his attention. His firm arms were comfortably enveloped by his training garb as he nocked his seventh arrow on his bow. The man looked focused - too focused, as if the target was all he could see. Then he shot his stationary target, missing just the bull’s eye with a distance of a thumb, beside his other shots.
Kita’s master laughed and both of them turned to him. “You have a good form, Atsumu! But you have to work on your aim!”
“Sir.” The young man bowed, acknowledging his presence. “And yes, unfortunately, I still have long ways to go,” he said, scrunching his nose. His gaze, then, quickly travelled over the daimyo’s companion, keeping a small grin. Kita didn’t understand how that subtle stare peered into his composure.
“Keep it up!” Aran patted his shoulders. “You're doing well. Let’s go, Kita.”
Atsumu. Kita’s encounter with him somehow made him feel like he was exposed. Him being immortal was certainly a secret. Kita couldn’t even start imagining what the people would do if they found out, especially the shugo and the shogun. He wouldn’t want to ruin anything, because in the first place, he was given a new life to become a pillar to the peasants.
The young warriors were Aran’s esteemed new batch of samurai trained well by veterans. Kita tried to stay focused on his duty when they visited each one of them, but he kept pondering in between. It wasn’t like him to think of the effect of his actions. In his core, if he keeps his secret, he’ll keep it well. No exceptions.
Not even for a lover.