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Dazai tucked his tails closer to himself, trying to keep them out of view from the little girl at the tree’s root. God forbid she look up and see a kitsune up in the flowering branches. Just in case though, he cast a glamor over himself, allowing his cooling magic to obscure him from view.
The pearl kitsune came here often. Every week he would settle on the towering apple tree, wrapping his tails around himself for comfort, all to watch the redhead man and his kids. Sometimes he’d slink through the bushes in his fox form, other times he would stroll by in his human form.
He didn’t mean to. He really didn’t at first. He only came because he had been on the brink of starvation, about to collapse from exhaustion. But the man had been so nice, offering a piece of crab to Dazai’s fox form instead of chasing him out of the garden.
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Dazai desperately dug through the stale trash, slightly tripping over his own paws and ignoring how icky his fur felt. His stomach hurt so badly, a bottomless ache that plagued his every movement. He choked back a pained whimper. Behind him footsteps padded closer. No- please don’t chase him out, no please. He was so tired, he didn’t think he would be able to scamper away in time.
He turned slightly to see a redhead man approaching him from behind. A whine escaped his throat and he tucked his tail between his legs, even trying to slink even lower to the ground. No, no, no. Bracing for a swift kick to the ribs or worse, Dazai squeezed his eyes shut.
A moment passed. Nothing. Dazai slowly looked up, ears still pressed against his head. The man was crouched in front of him, holding out a steamed crab leg.
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He had looked at Dazai’s dirtied, trembling form with so much kindness, Dazai couldn’t help but to sob, dragging himself gratefully towards the tantalizing piece of crab and gulping it down.
But Dazai was a greedy, greedy creature, that was a fact, an essence that made up his soul. He was insatiable. No longer was it just food he was after-
The hungry kitsune wanted the love those kids got.
Not the sympathies his fox form got, but actual real love.
He craved it so badly. Wanted to bite and sink his teeth into it, to get a taste of that paradise. Needed to tear it apart with his claws before burrowing himself deep, deep inside the warmth of it.
Dazai had noticed that the man was very touchy. Not like how Mori touched Dazai, all sharp pain and cruel yanks, but tender brushes. He was constantly hugging, picking up, patting the kids. This man was achingly careful when handling the children, gently smoothing hair from their faces and helping them over big puddles. Dazai tittered angrily, his tail bristling with jealousy, it should be him! Not them!
He secretly wondered how it would feel to have those hands ruffle his own brown hair or comb through his tails. To be held like something- no, someone- who mattered. To be cradled, loved and adored.
No! Dazai squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head violently, knocking his head into an overhead branch. Bad Dazai! He isn’t allowed to yearn for things he doesn’t deserve. Unaware of his inner turmoil, the kids continued playing beneath the apple tree under the redhead man’s watchful eye. Dazai shot a disgusted glare at them and scoffed.
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As Sakura and the rest ran around, Oda looked up at the apple tree with a knowing smile.
Despite being mostly covered by the foliage and whatever glamor the boy must have been trying to conceal himself with, patches of white and red fur still poked through, like little blossoms. A tragically endearing attempt at camouflage no match for the older kitsune’s senses. Oda’s own fox ears flicked in amusement, albeit hidden with a much stronger glamor than the boy’s, as he heard the tenth sigh coming from a particular branch. He wondered when the boy would come down and finally join them.
It had been late at night when he had first seen the bandaged boy. At around one in the morning when Oda had woken up to the sound of metal clattering on the ground. Worrying that one of the children had gotten hurt or worse, he had rushed outside only to find nothing. Nothing but a tuft of pure white fur, too long and much too silky to be a dog or cat’s. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the nearly imperceptible sparkles of a fellow kitsune’s glamor.
Oh! He had thought as he looked more carefully through the glamor. The first thing Oda noticed was the sheer amount of bandages the kid was wrapped in. They looked like a walking mummy squished between a trash can and wall. Nine velvety tails fanned out behind him, wagging nervously in the air. Pale fingers shook around a half empty bottle of ramune. The kid had looked absolutely terrified, ears flattened against their head and void-like eyes wide open.
So Oda pretended not to see them.
And it happened again, but this time the kid appeared in their fox form to rummage through the trash, cowering when Oda had approached him with food. He didn’t want to scare the kid away, the poor thing tried so very hard to hide the fact they’re a kitsune, who knows how they would react if they realized Oda already knew about it.
Oda began leaving out more things for the kitsune boy. Bowls of milk out on the front porch, conveniently unopened rolls of bandages in the trash can and more. All consumed or taken before he could ever see the boy. Still, he couldn’t help but to smile whenever he saw small pawprints left on the garden path or those void-like eyes spying on him.
Maybe one day the little kitsune would feel comfortable enough to stop hiding, and when he did, Oda would welcome them with open arms.