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Life gifted to him an exciting twist during one spring day.
It was on a time like any other. He’d spent his days as he usually does, frolicking about with no care, parading himself as a normal animal. Most people find him adorable when he peeks at them from the woods, while some had grown wary of him for reasons he cannot fathom.
Norton is a young fox spirit compared to anyone else he’s met in the past. The three tails that sways languidly behind him can attest to that. All of his elders warned him to stay away from humans, as their greed knows no bounds, and a desperate human is a terrifying one.
Naturally, he paid them no heed. There was no fun in listening to what he was told.
On that day, in the middle of enjoying the snacks that the soft-hearted humans gave him, he felt a twinge somewhere inside him. A feeling that tugged him away from the attention, something that told him to return immediately to his home and investigate what has happened.
He knew someone has invaded his temple.
While it shouldn’t have been a massive deal, it was still a good reason to be concerned. As he’d said, he was still a young fox. Therefore, his temple was just a tiny shrine that always binds him near it. It stops him from wandering off too far and getting lost, it keeps him safe from the grasp of malicious men that wishes to get their hands on a powerful creature.
His instincts told him someone appeared too close for comfort. And while he has no knowledge as to who it was, it was alarming, to say the least.
When Norton sped back, he received a full view of a young man in plain robes, mindlessly humming as he sat before the shrine. It was as if the teen was ignorant of how his actions might as well be deemed disrespectful, especially for the proud kitsunes that dwell in the area. He held a piece of parchment in his hands, contorting it into odd shapes.
Norton’s ears pricked upwards and his head tilted to the side in interest. He still hadn’t changed from his fox form, one with only a single tail to blend in easily, and so he had been debating whether to approach or not.
Seeing as the human held no interest of desecrating his shrine, the fox spirit’s own curiosity won against him.
The young man’s gaze snapped up as soon as he heard soft footsteps padding towards him. But Norton remained calm and unwavering. He fixed the human with an odd look, trying to gauge what his intentions were. But no matter how many times he looked back and forth from the human to the strangely-folded parchment, no answer came to mind.
The human frowned at the new presence but did not shoo him away. Instead, he rerolled his sleeves up again since it was starting to hinder his movements. He refocused his attention back to his little project.
Was that an invitation to keep approaching? How interesting. Norton has never encountered a human that did not find him curious. Almost everyone of them liked to dote on him. Either that, or they usually try to tame him. The suspicious but smart ones would rather choose to ignore him in case they were right about their assumptions of him being a spirit. They were right, of course, but that still made them much too boring.
The human chose to not pay attention to him anymore after that. He was much focused on his parchment. But even with that, he ended up completely crumpling it and hiding it inside his sleeves as he stands up.
The whole time, Norton watched with mild interest. He never got a second glance as that figure vanished within the trees.
The young man returned the next day. He sat on the same ground he did prior, back still against the shrine. He held five pieces of parchment in his hands this time. And he resumed what he was doing the day before.
Norton’s own curiosity did not fade. Humans have always been peculiar to him, the three hundred years of living will never change that opinion. They always come up with the most odd of things, sometimes to wave off their boredom, sometimes as their way of surviving. They cannot live without other people, he found out. Dependent towards their peers, and lives shorter than the trees that grow around them.
When the five pieces of parchment were all used up, the boy stood up again. This time, he left two of his creations before the shrine. Two of the parchments he had been fiddling with earlier, folded in a shape that the spirit has never seen before. It was of a shape similar to the birds that fly up the sky, and for some reason, it remained firm and did not collapse or return to its original form even as time passes by.
He wanted to poke it, but his fox form had no fingers to do so. He can always shapeshift, but he fears he might spook away the human.
And so passes the next day, with more papers in hand. This time, the teen produced one more than the amount he’d created the day prior. He returned to his home, humming a slightly cheerful tune.
On the thirteenth day, he almost tripped on a rock on his way to the shrine, with a monstrous stack of parchment cradled in his arms and blocking a better view. Norton watched on in amusement as the human frantically tries to regain his balance. Unfortunately, some of his items had fallen to the ground, so he had to settle the rest down first before picking it up.
Norton may be a mischievous kitsune sometimes, yet something in him found a reason to help the human pick everything back up. He supposes it was his own way of thanking the other for being a good source of entertainment, even when he’s done nothing but fold papers all day.
The human looked at him strangely when the fox padded towards him with papers carefully between his teeth. He’d paid extra attention just so he doesn’t completely drench it with his saliva after all. Such was the disadvantage of not having human hands.
“You,” spoke the teen, voice ensured to be blank as he can manage. “Are here again.”
It was the first words that the human said to him.
Norton leveled him with an amused look as he dropped the papers before the human’s feet. He retreated back to where he’s been sitting everyday, on top of his own shrine where he can look down on the mortal folding papers before him.
(He tries to act as aloof as a fox can be, but the glimmer in his eyes spoke otherwise.)
“You’re not a normal fox at all,” sighed the human. “Why are you even watching me? It’s not like folding paper cranes are interesting.”
Ah. So that’s the name for what he was doing. Folding paper cranes, quite fitting he supposes. The paper does resemble those birds if one were to tilt their head and squint.
The teen continued, “Is it interesting to watch me? I’m not doing this for you, just so you know. Why won’t you mind your own business instead? Surely, foxes like you have other things to do, like ask the ladies in the village for food.”
With the glare that was sent to him, Norton knew that this human recognizes him to be the one that frequents the village. How fun. He’s never seen the mortal, but he didn’t think the same couldn’t be said for him.
“Just—whatever. Do whatever, I do not care. Do not disturb me or destroy the cranes. It’s not like I came here to disrespect the shrine.”
There are questions bubbling inside the curious young spirit. Why fold paper cranes? Why must he do it in the shrine? What is the significance of the meager paper that he’s wasting the rest of his days with?
But he kept his mouth shut, adopting a prideful look as he kept watching. The human huffed at him and turned back to his work.
He didn’t care anymore.
Norton found out the human was only hostile during the first few days. An awkward one, not the best at interacting with his fellow humans, and does not fare any better even with animals. He only found out because he’d spent the following day following the young man around the village.
It was amusing to do. It was obvious that the human knew he was being followed, but did not do anything against it. He still returns to the shrine with his papers, still folding it even with the steadily growing number of paper cranes on the place.
Eventually, the human warmed up to the curious spirit.
“I know what you are,” he said one day, on a time when he surprisingly put aside his papers for once to look up at the fox that blinked back at him. Norton was caught off-guard. “I heard a story from the elders today. You’re a kitsune, aren’t you? Some sort of powerful fox spirit?”
Norton doesn’t know if it was visible, but a smirk slowly crawled up his face. He also did not know why he finds the situation funny.
“You don’t have to pretend you’re a normal fox before me,” the human also rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t like you’re successful anyway. No normal fox would sit in the same place for twenty-five days. Even if someone was folding paper cranes before them.”
The spirit allowed a hearty laugh to escape his lips. And with a cloud of smoke puffing up before him, he’d turned into his three-tailed fox form, with said appendages swishing behind him in a carefree manner. In his neck hung a necklace with a clear crystal tied to it. It glinted brightly from the very little sun peeking through the leaves.
“Okay, you were right,” the fox spoke in the human’s language. “What will you do now?”
He was warned, again and again, that mortals would want to take advantage of him. Some might lock him up in their homes and force him to guard their families. He wonders what this teen would do.
But he only received the same odd look that the brunette always sent him. “What am I supposed to do? You want me to bring you special tofu and worship you now that you revealed yourself? Do you want me to spread the word that a kitsune lives here? That they’ve been feeding it?”
“Huh.”
“What?” the human is confused with the sound he made.
So Norton chose to confuse him further. “Call me Norton.”
“I…did not ask for your name.”
“What about you?” he asked eagerly. His tail swished enthusiastically behind him. He was finally about to know the name of the interesting human that caught his eye! “What should I call you?”
Of course it was not easy. “Why should I tell you?”
“Because I told you mine.”
The human stared at him with varying levels of disbelief as time trickles by. It was fun to watch how it went from mild confusion to him closing his eyes trying to process the response. He was told that fox spirits were supposed to be wiser than any human, but the one before him—perhaps childish is the best way to describe it.
Three tails. Basically a child compared to the others.
He took a deep breath.
“Fine,” the human opened his eyes in resignation. He seemed to have come to the conclusion that it is better to not disobey a fox spirit, lest he gets cursed with bad luck for the rest of his life. “Fine. Please call me Naib.”
With a trade of their names, Norton convinced himself that he has become friends with the prickly human. He no longer found any reason to hide his fox form. He no longer remained on top of his shrine, now opting to sometimes walk around near his human friend. Naib did not mind him, did not even scold him even with how he looks close to snapping his head off. He just rolled his eyes and continued folding his paper cranes.
The only indication that he acknowledged the presence of the spirit beside him was how his movements slowed down, slow enough to easily observe each step he does to create his paper crane.
It was more fun being able to observe closely rather than from afar only. Norton found himself appreciating his first human friend.
(He didn’t know it, but Naib did too.)
Another sprinkle of curiosity allowed a new question to bloom. This time, it was Naib who had asked the question.
“Is this your shrine?”
He held his seventy-fifth paper crane in hand, assessing it through each corner. His days of creating nothing but his art refined his skills. He was now able to produce ten without wasting any paper. He could’ve finished his task days ago, but he’d preferred the languid pace he adopted.
Norton’s head lazily raised from where he was resting next to the human. “Yes.”
“If I pray to it, can you grant my wish?”
The question was only successful in drawing the spirit’s attention. “Fox spirits are capable of many things. Wait a few hundred years, perhaps I would be able to do so.”
“I see. You’re still weak.”
Feeling indignant at the remark, Norton bumped his snout on the hand of the human. He didn’t like how there was not even hesitation in those words. He already knew how to manipulate illusions to deceive other mortals! While he would never do that to his friend, he is still plenty capable.
However, the inquiry roused a different one. “Why are you making paper cranes in the first place?”
Naib’s face darkened immediately. He was back to brooding, clamming up and refusing to answer. He set the paper crane among its many other companions and busied himself with another one.
It was fine if he does not answer. Norton was patient enough to wait. He has a few thousand years to live and is in no hurry.
The calmness of their days, however, were washed away with the flood that swept over the village. Not big enough to cause devastating damage nor sink houses. But it did enough.
Norton remained silent as he watches his friend stare blankly at the shrine. Paper surrounds it in all sides, all completely drenched with the rain water and covered in mud. It was a far cry from the pretty creations he’d left standing the day prior.
Naib refused to cry, even when his lips quivered as he bites down at it.
It was unpleasant to witness a friend sad, so the spirit tried his best to bring comfort. His tail flickered unsurely, but he still approached and chose to rub his fur on the legs of the human. He hoped the softness is enough to bring comfort, even with the hakama getting in the way.
He was unprepared when Naib swept him to his arms and walked around looking for a place to sit. He didn’t care if the mud sullied his clothes. He just settled down with Norton in his arms, running his hand through the soft fur while trying to hide how his fingers trembled.
“Your fur is very soft,” he mused, but his voice broke by the end.
It was heartbreaking. Of all creatures, Norton knew first hand of how much his friend truly put effort with creating his paper cranes. And yet every single one of them were just gone with the rain.
He didn’t speak when he was lifted. He didn’t complain when Naib buried his face in the fox’s fur. Instead, he maneuvered his tail as best as he could to reach to the human, to wrap in his wrist and give as much warmth and reassurance as he could. It was the most he can do as a fox.
(As a fox, and not as a human. He knew Naib has never seen his human form, and he feared he would only make his human uncomfortable.)
Hidden behind the fur, the brunette allowed his tears to dampen his eyes. The only reason why Norton knew was because he felt his torso get soaked.
It was only later when the human composed himself again did he move back and set the fox back down the ground. Norton honestly did not mind being used as comfort, but he still felt better with something reliable and steady beneath his feet.
“I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “I should’ve kept watch.”
He only felt a tap on top of his head, the human’s way of hitting him because he was wrong. He did not reprimand again, only choosing to furrow his eyebrows and refuse to elaborate nor defend his thoughts.
“My mother told me a short something,” he recalled.
A story, huh. It was one that Norton did not expect after what had just happened. He supposes, if it can lift the human’s mood once more, he would be willing to listen.
“She said if I fold one hundred paper cranes, any of my wish can be granted,” his tone was melancholic and a bit sad. It was a stupid belief, he knew. What power does a paper crane hold? “I said it was stupid, but I did it anyway. Because she’s…she’s sick. And the medic said they have no cure. She’d live a few more months at most. And I decided if she was right—I might as well just give it a chance, right?”
A pebble was tossed to the tree. Neither of them watched it go.
“I would have wished for her recovery,” muttered the teen. “Even if I have to make a thousand, ten thousand…if my hands get crippled, as long as it works…”
Norton did not respond.
Humans truly are foolish creatures. They make up nonsense, even if it was to put their mind at ease. They were willing to believe in the silliest of words if it gives them hope. They would pray to anything if they were desperate, and would similarly harm any if they believed it would do them good.
Such greedy creatures indeed.
(But, he supposes, as he remembers each passing day with his human friend, each moment he wishes would last and each instance he hopes Naib would never leave, he supposed that makes them the same.)
Norton may as well blame it on his own incompetence, for being incapable of granting his human’s wish simply because he is too young and too naïve.
Naib didn’t blame him anyway.
The brunette continued to slave away, folding papers in a practiced manner. He only stopped when he no longer has material to use.
The way he works is almost obsessive, in a way.
Humans are scary when desperate.
Norton wonders if the day will come when Naib would look at him with resentment. He was supposed to be a powerful fox spirit, but he is unable to save a flickering light.
He immediately regrets the thought and banished it from his head.
One day Naib returned to the shrine, his eyes dull and tears long since dried on his cheeks. He tried to not seem obvious, yet Norton’s sharp eyes noticed it anyway.
He reached out for Norton’s fox form and cradled it close again. As if something about the softness of the spirit’s fur brought him comfort. Norton did not feel offended at all. He simply allowed it to happen, even calming down and making himself as comfortable as he can while also trying to reassure the human.
“My mother died,” he said blankly.
He did not say anything. A creature like him would only lament the fact that human lives are so terribly short and fleeting. So easily extinguished.
“I was on my eightieth paper crane,” Naib continued in a soft voice, still stroking the fur. “I was late, huh?”
“What will you do?” inquired Norton, slim eyes looking up at the human.
But Naib only laughed. “What?” he sighed. “What is there to do?”
The question rang through the air with nothing to answer it with. When he settled Norton back down again to the floor, he vanished back to his village and did not return again for the day.
When the next sunrise came, he carried another stack of papers with him and began folding.
He folded and folded paper cranes as if it was the only thing he knew how to do.
Norton watched next to him, the presence being the only thing he was able to provide.
What was there to do? He came here in the beginning for the simple reasons of being curious and bored. He wanted something to spice up his days, and the one the world gave him was a friend that allows him to look forward to seeing.
Someone that makes his heart skip a beat upon catching sight of.
The number of paper cranes reached a hundred, but Naib did not stop folding them. He seemed a little too determined in his actions, and the fox feared for the state of his mentality.
“Are you okay?” he forced himself to ask.
Naib stared back, brilliant blue eyes genuinely confused at the question. “Why would I not be?”
“Why are you still folding paper cranes?”
But Naib only reached out to pat his head. It was gentle and nice. His hands were surprisingly soft, but the surprise only came because the fox did not know of what the human did whenever he was not in the forest, before a shrine, folding paper cranes as if it was the only thing keeping him going.
The brunette smiled slightly. There was a tinge of something bitter in his expression. “I have another wish.”
If that is so, maybe thing will get a bit better.
A day passed.
And another.
It turned into a week. And a month. And seasons and years. Norton, as a fox, almost did not notice how long it has been. He originally thought it was normal, maybe the human found something to occupy himself with. He shouldn’t be clingy, and he knew that.
But Naib did not return.
Norton would never allow a decade to pass without knowing why. He was waiting on top of his shrine, but no familiar face came to sight. The paper cranes that were folded years ago were kept in a pristine condition. He’d forced himself to learn his own abilities until he can preserve the paper, unlike his blunder on that one flooded day.
Alas he decided maybe it was time to visit the human village again.
But the village he saw was not one he was familiar with.
Unrecognizable faces, new structures and even the location of each house is different. There was a charred fence that failed to keep the wild animals away from the village. There was a fountain in the square, and children of unknown people running to and about.
Even the ladies that snuck out food for him were gone.
The house he was so intimately familiar with, is gone.
(The locals said once upon a time, a different village had been built there.
A peaceful one, but not recognized enough. It wasn’t even drawn in the map. But the residents of that place loved it. They refused to leave, even when their children wished to venture out their town and see the outside world.
But that village is gone now. A terrible fire ransacked their houses and burnt down everyone stuck inside their abode. Only few survived, and those few refused to return, unable to face the town that was once bustling with life and filled with familiar faces.
Towns fall, and eventually will rise again. A new village was built in its ashes. Those who previously lived there will remain nameless.
No one would remember them anymore.
No one but the fox that silently ran out the place.)
He wanted to burn the paper cranes. It prickles at his eyes and mocked him of the days that never will return to him. It plays a never ending scene of a brunette teen, who would never live to see his own future, folding his paper cranes even as it nicks and cuts his hands.
But against his will, he didn’t. It was the only thing he had left that reminded him of his friend.
He wanted to crumple it, to toss it to the river, to set it on fire—but he knew the composure he had would eventually collapse if he did so. Just standing near it made him faint.
Was this what the human felt when his mother died? The powerless feeling was almost suffocating. He didn’t even know the exact moment when Naib breathed his last. He didn’t know, he didn’t do anything. He was foolish and he remained ignorant—
A fool. That’s what he was.
(Did he not care when he was not able to see the blue eyes stare back at him for an entire day?
When the months pass, why did he not pay attention to the growing emptiness?)
(Naib never even got to meet him.)
Turning back to his human form after so long was an unpleasant experience. He was taller, probably taller than Naib ever was. His steps were heavier compared to his fox self’s, and his skin was no longer covered by the fur that brought comfort to those who matter.
(There was a burn mark on his face. His own punishment to himself for not paying enough attention until he had nothing left to grasp.
As well as a reminder and a promise.
He’d keep the gentle touches in his heart.)
He noticed one particular paper crane was different from the others. The paper has a splash of black pattern on it, sometimes connecting and sometimes not.
Against his better judgement, he unfolded it. His hands carefully picked if up as if it was more precious than gold or diamond. His touch was fleeting, a caress that almost seems afraid to make contact. And underneath his hands, it reverts to its original, plain form, yet retaining the marks from years of being in the same shape.
The pattern he saw was no longer just a shape. Line after line of ink that has dried already across the parchment. A beautiful calligraphy of a human that was far more similar to a cactus, inside and out.
Prickly and sharp. Yet also a soft-hearted man that quenched his loneliness.
(Norton cannot understand words yet. And so, it took years for him to finally learn. To be able to distinguish each curved and styled character, a handwriting as beautiful as the person who wrote it.)
‘I wish for Norton, as annoying as that fox is, to find a friend, or a companion…just, someone to stay.’
-
End.