Chapter Text
On what should have been an ordinary day, Tomoe found a piece of candy.
In itself, it was innocuous, hardly noteworthy, as what few visitors Mikage shrine still received left offerings from time to time. Yet it was its placement that drew his attention. It sat on its own, forlorn and perhaps forgotten, set haphazardly on the veranda right before the door, where he could’ve stepped on it had he not been paying attention. His first thought was that someone had dropped it, and so he took stock of it before picking it up and throwing it away.
However, it was back again the next day — the same brand of candy, neatly wrapped in cellophane twisted at the ends, hard and round and brightly colored. Again, he threw it away. But when it made its appearance on the third day, he decided to get to the bottom of this mystery.
After all, he had nothing better to do, and if children were loitering about, littering at his master’s shrine, then he’d give them a stern talking to.
Children these days had no manners; they had no sense about what was sacred, he thought, gripping his broom and stomping down the steps, whipping his head from one side to the next and scanning the landscape for any sign of the culprit. He sniffed the air and wandered to the back of the property, where the shed lay.
There, he found the door ajar. His ears pricked up, the fur at his tail standing on end. Vandals, he thought, gritting his teeth. He stormed to the door and threw it wide open. Light spilled over the dusty floorboards, a small, hunched figure catching his eye. And then it hit him — Mikage’s energy.
Fury flashed in his eyes. “You have some nerve disappearing for nine years—!” he barked, lifting his broom.
A tiny, shrill cry grated his ears. He nearly dropped the broom, bringing one hand up to clamp over an ear. The figure lifted its head, and when his eyes met large, watery, brown ones, he froze.
That…wasn’t Mikage. In fact, that wasn’t even a god. He gaped at the little girl before him, taking in her tear-streaked face and the smudges of dirt on her cheeks, her clothes torn and sullied with mud. Like she’d fallen into a puddle. This shabby girl before him was a human — and couldn’t have been more than five years old. Something seized inside of his chest.
The moment he froze, her tears ceased. She sniffed a few times, her sad, miserable eyes reflecting how lost, tired, cold, and hungry she must’ve felt. But she wasn’t afraid, he realized. Just startled.
Uneasy, he took a step back, nearly falling off the edge of the platform in the process. She only blinked at him, rubbing her other eye with her small fist. She finished by wiping her face on her arm, brushing some of the dirt from her forehead. A glow emerged, smack dab in the middle of her forehead, shining golden and bright. His stomach plunged to his toes.
Oh, no.
She must’ve recovered enough, because she tottered to her feet. “Are you a dog man?” she queried, voice high pitched.
Aghast, his mouth fell open, brow twitching. “I am not a filthy mongrel!”
Giggling, she paid him no mind, instead walking over to him. For a moment, she gazed up at him, contemplative. Then: “Your ears are funny.” As soon as she’d finished this statement, a butterfly caught her attention and she hopped out of the shed, following it across the yard.
That was when Tomoe knew — he had to get in touch with Mikage at once.
—
Some time later, the girl had grown tired of chasing the butterfly and had wandered back to the main shrine, where Tomoe was anxiously sweeping. He’d kept an eye on her, unsure of what else to do, motivated by the thought that a human child was even more vulnerable than a human adult. And she was quite useless, too. Someone like her would end up in dire straits if she wasn’t looked after and, well… He was the only adult in the vicinity.
Not to mention, that pesky wind god had yet to respond to the message he’d sent shortly after discovering the girl. He huffed, sweeping faster. If anyone knew what was going on, it would be Otohiko.
He watched the girl approach, climbing the steps before jamming a hand in the pocket of her dress. There was the crinkle of a wrapper, and then she clutched a piece of candy, near identical to the others she’d left. With a beaming smile, she stooped and set it down on the veranda. Then, she turned to Tomoe and grinned.
Tomoe stopped sweeping. “What?”
“Do you like candy?” she asked.
He lifted an eyebrow. Truthfully, he’d never tried this modern version of sweets. But she’d jammed her hand in her pocket and had produced another piece, holding it out in the palm of her hand. He froze.
“You can have the last one,” she offered.
That was a bit strange, he thought, eyeing her warily. Here was a small girl, who looked like the wind could blow her away, and yet she offered him, a mighty yokai and the servant of a god, a piece of candy. But her toothy grin and her outstretched hand melted something inside of him, and he sighed, leaning the broom against the side of the shrine. He crossed the veranda to reach her.
As he knelt, he heard her stomach growl. His ears twitched. Suddenly, he felt a wave of guilt for having thrown away the other pieces of candy. Even if sweets were hardly substantial, it didn’t matter.
“Are you certain—?” he began, but she only hummed and held her hand out farther. Cheeks warm, he plucked the candy from her hand. Not knowing what else to say, he muttered, “Thank you.”
She lit up, then patted his forehead. “You’re a good dog man!”
His ears lowered sideways. “I am not a dog. I am a fox.” Under her expectant gaze, he found himself unwrapping the candy as he spoke. She didn’t relax until he put it in his mouth.
“A fox man?” She clasped her hands behind her back, tilting her head and eyeing him curiously.
Again, her stomach growled. A double whammy of shame. Not only had he taken candy from a child, but he’d taken candy from a starving child. And he didn’t think they had anything in the shrine that a human could eat other than mochi. At the very least, he could clean her up, he thought, brow furrowing.
“Come inside,” he said, standing and pushing the door open. “You are dirty. You should wash your face and hands.”
She nodded, then trailed after him into the shrine. They had barely passed the threshold before Onikiri and Kotetsu floated closer, excitement emanating from their small bodies. Immediately, they tossed confetti. A cry of surprise left the girl, and her small hand grasped the edge of Tomoe’s kimono, rooting him in place.
“Oh, joyous day! Lord Mikage has returned!” Kotetsu burst out.
“Welcome home, Lord Mikage—” Onikiri began, but then she caught sight of the wide-eyed child in Tomoe’s shadow and froze.
“Mikage has not returned,” Tomoe said, matter-of-fact, slipping his hands in his opposite sleeves.
Here, Onikiri and Kotetsu exchanged a glance. Then, Kotetsu drifted to the girl’s side, examining her. “But, look! Here is Lord Mikage’s mark of godhood!” He pointed to her forehead.
“Yes, I am aware of that. How she received it, I cannot say. But I can assure you that Mikage is not here.”
For a moment, the shrine spirits contemplated this. Then, they perked up. “It is still a joyous occasion!” Onikiri insisted, clasping her hands together at her chest. “The shrine will no longer be without a god.”
“I would not go that far,” Tomoe muttered.
“We should prepare a feast at once!” Kotetsu added, to which Onikiri nodded emphatically.
A feast. Tomoe had to bite back a groan. “There is no need for such ceremony. A simple meal will suffice. After all, she will not be staying, as she is a human, and humans have no place in the realm of the gods.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted movement, and then he saw the girl crouching on the floor, picking up the colorful bits of paper that Onikiri and Kotetsu had scattered about. Much to his dismay, she looked up at them and grinned. “Are you guys fairies?”
Fantastic, she wasn’t even aware of supernatural beings, he thought. How could Mikage have given her a god mark if she couldn’t classify the average shrine spirit? Worse, she was dropping the papers as she collected them, spreading them around the shrine. Exasperated, he ducked out to the veranda long enough to retrieve his broom. Before she could make more of a mess, he swept the confetti aside.
“Now, let us wash up,” he said firmly. To Onikiri and Kotetsu, he added, “And if you would — finish cleaning this mess.”
Although disappointed, they both chimed, “Yes, Master Tomoe.”
With that, he beckoned for the girl to come along, then led her to the hallway. He listened to her footsteps, turning one ear backwards to be sure she followed him to the bathroom. There, he set her on the stool and drew up a basin of warm water, grabbing soap and a fluffy wash cloth. Settling before her, he lathered the cloth and took her hands, starting by scrubbing the dirt from her palms.
“What are you doing here all alone?” he asked, eyes glued to his task. “Where are your parents?”
Out of his peripheral vision, he noticed her face fall. “Mommy got real sick.” Her chin lowered. “Daddy says she’s not coming back.”
Tomoe’s ears flattened sideways. Her mother was dead, he thought. But that didn’t explain why she was here by herself. She had to have other relatives. “What about your father? Where did he go?” he asked, working the dirt out from under her nails.
“Daddy’s gone. I don’t know where he went. But mommy says he’s a bad man,” she replied, kicking her feet. A frown furrowed her brow. “I have to hide my money from him and never, ever let him have it, no matter how much he cries and begs! I have to be responsible and never get married!”
This child was meandering, Tomoe thought with a grimace, listening to her prattle on about what her mother had told her — things about how men shouldn’t be trusted, how she should always lock up the house, how she should not let her father in. That was a family dynamic he had no interest in getting involved in.
“What about your grandparents?” he asked when she came up for air. She only stared at him, unblinking, like the concept was foreign to her. Exasperated, he rinsed her hands and asked, “Do you have a home?”
“Oh…” She brought a forefinger to her lips, thoughtful. Then, her face crumpled a bit. “My house burned down.”
His ears tensed. Her house had burned? And she was all alone… A human child, alone with a god mark of all things. If she was left to her own devices, yokai would surely find her and eat her. Somehow, he had a feeling that he was responsible for shielding her from that fate. After all, she wore Mikage’s mark. Who knew how that had happened.
Her voice pulled him from his musings. “What’s your name, Mr. Fox Man?”
Locking narrow pupils on her, he hummed. “I am Tomoe.”
She smiled. “I’m Nanami!”
Why did he get the sinking feeling that this meant she’d be sticking around? He hadn’t particularly wanted to know her name. Knowing her name made this more personal, and that made it more permanent. The last thing he needed was a small child to run amok in his shrine, a small child who could hardly perform the duties of a god. Actually, he didn’t believe she could perform even the simplest of tasks. She couldn’t even weed the garden. And now he was stuck as her babysitter and no course forward.
Something had to be done immediately.
In the meantime, however, he needed to distract her, to keep her from sticking her nose where it didn’t belong. “Well, Nanami,” he said, draping the wash cloth over the edge of the basin, “finish washing and I will bring you fresh clothes. If you clean up and come straight to the kitchen, then I will give you mochi.”
Her eyes lit up. She hummed and nodded twice, the motion exaggerated. Since it seemed she understood, he breathed a small sigh of relief. This bought him a few minutes to call in back-up. Because he had no clue what to do. And who knew when Otohiko would respond to him.
“All right. I will see you shortly.” With that, he exited the bathroom and shut the door behind him. Then, he stepped outside and conjured a ball of foxfire. “Tell Tanuko I must speak with her at once.”
“Yes, Master Tomoe!” it responded.
Before it could shoot off into the shadows, he tacked on, “And tell her to bring ingredients for a mild curry. I must make dinner tonight.”
Another affirmative, and then the ball of blue flames streaked towards the periphery of the yard, disappearing into the darkness beyond. To the Word Over Yonder. Hopefully, Tanuko would know what to do.
