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There’s an old shrine tucked away in the forest near their school, or so Rintarou hears.
The entrance of the shrine can be reached by following a winding stone path—one overgrown with weeds and wildflowers and altogether unused, one which leads up the small hill covered in trees. The stones now can hardly add together to form proper walking ground, but it suffices. Contributes to the whole mysterious and cryptic atmosphere, he thinks, especially considering it breaks off just before the first torii gate.
He looks up ahead, and sees them.
Two fox statues standing upright, with fraying and mossy shimenawa ropes tied around their necks. Ear-splitting grins stretched across their faces, which are only revealed when Rintarou reaches out to brush a layer of dirt off. They’re guarding the shrine as expected, but their eyes are hollow without pupils in them—where are they actually looking?
(Their gaze seems to follow him with every step he takes.)
Nevertheless, they do little to deter him, almost guiding him as he trudges up the detritus with his hands in his jacket pockets and a burning curiosity to find out what the fuss is all about with the rumours.
Rintarou knows how rumours are. They rarely have any basis to them, often spun from a web of words and half-baked lies that derive from human motivations and desires, some benign, some malicious. They can make or ruin lives, or they can serve as cheap sources of entertainment. He’s not contagious to enjoying the latter every once in a while, so long as they don’t harm anyone or he can have fun at Atsumu’s expense. Most of them are about him, after all, much to his very vocal chagrin.
Or very rarely, they can hinge on something like this. An unkept, untended shrine sat in the middle of five hundred year-old cedar trees and rotting architecture, with nature slowly but surely reclaiming it—naturally, tongues are bound to start wagging of apparitions or spirits. Talking about how the previous shrine keepers angered the fox god residing within and he decided to take it back with a vengeance, shutting every single human out and hibernating in his rage for the next thousand years.
Or something. What a load of nothing.
Nobody has any evidence to back such a frivolous claim up, especially considering the fact that desperate students would make the trek up here during exam season to get as much favour as they could. Like a fox would guide their hand in penning their answers and curl its tail around the fates of their results, altering their grades like the trickster they made it out to be.
It’s not like Rintarou doesn’t understand where they’re coming from. He’s never been the most well versed in academics, but he thinks that maybe his school mates would know better than to seek help from a fox, of all things. Their school’s namesake was famous for beguilement and leading people astray, so if he paid close enough attention he’s sure he could hear the pained wails of students who prayed to a fox god in vain.
He’d rather not hear his own pained wail. No, he’s here for something else.
Satisfying his curiosity? Debunking the rumours? Dispelling sheer boredom? Whatever the reason, he’s going to find it when he comes face-to-face with the shrine.
This might be just another whim of his. He’s fine with nothing being here.
Except—there is something here. Compared to the peeling red of the torii gates he’d just crossed and the utter disrepair of the initial statues, the shrine itself was—pristine. What had greeted him first was an especially tall fox statue, its neck wrapped with a pure red cloth and smiling down at him the same way the others had, guarding the entrance and serving as its most striking marker.
No sign of it standing for a thousand years, at least.
To its right was a shorter statue, except its eyes have been covered instead. Still in perfect condition, like it was brand new and had just been erected on the shrine property itself. It immerses Rintarou in a feeling of being transported back to the past, and if his imagination could go further, he could see hordes of people lining up to give their prayers in the very spot he was standing.
Should he?
No, not yet. It was too soon for that.
He should explore instead.
He feels compelled to brush a hand over the shorter fox statue’s head, and reveal its eyes to allow it to see. Who knows how long it had remained like this, enshrouded in crimson and left blind? He feels a certain kinship towards it. For reasons unknown, but a kinship all the same. Especially when the cloth drops into his hands from its pupils and he realizes, with genuine surprise, that the fox’s eyes are the exact shade of hazel he’s all too familiar with.
Just like his.
He feels accomplished.
Rintarou moves onto the main attraction. The shrine itself, quietly spectacular and painted in the same shade of bleeding red that he’s seen all this while, with a single large saisen box on the highest step of the stairs leading up to the bell ropes. Standard Shinto stuff, really, but what really catches his eye is how clean it all seems to be. Shielded away from the overpowering force of nature reclaiming its ground and all of its elements, still smiling at him in all of its lustre, and he thinks he can put the rumour of an angry fox god to rest.
In no world would this suggest abandonment or neglect—there was very clearly someone still taking care of the shrine.
However, therein lies another rumour. Who was this someone? The shrine was the only structure in the immediate area, and save for the disturbed leaf litter that followed the path up the hillside, there was no sign of human activity here. Exam season was long over, and he was the only one adventurous enough to stand alone in the midst of it all.
Foolish, maybe. Brave? In a sense, yes. He’s not hunkering down for an emotional discussion though, and opts to peer into the saisen box instead.
No five-yen coins, as to be expected. Although—
Rintarou reaches in between the grates of the box, towards something glistening and reflecting off midday light. For what feels like it should be heretic to steal from the fox god, he has, strangely, absolutely no qualms about. The action of his hand dipping into the box borders on routine, close to predetermined, and as he pulls out a singular ring to shine brightly in his hands, it all appears as meant for him.
Nothing quite so self-important as taking the fox god’s place, but finding a place beside him to sit.
He deposits the ring in his jacket pocket and finally steps up to the shrine. He can’t resist the calling to do what he was meant to do in a shrine all along, instead of poking his nose in business where it might not belong—he has no earthly desires to pray for, nor does he think it would be of any use to him, but he prays anyway.
Rintarou procures a five-yen coin from his pants pocket and throws it into the box. With both hands, he clutches ahold of the bell rope and shakes it firmly, kicking up the fallen leaves under it and sending them to swirl about his feet. Then, he bows twice, sharply, in perfect practised posture, and claps twice.
The sound of his posturing resounds deafeningly in the middle of the forest, and all falls dead silent for a moment. Neither a bird chirp nor the hum of awakening crickets nor the wind blowing through the leaf cover of the trees surrounding him is present, and as he states his full name, address, and some other non-committal prayer that he doesn’t expect to get answered, the only sign of nature being present is the sudden breeze that sweeps through his legs.
Yet, he keeps his eyes shut, and clearly enunciates every part of his prayer under his breath. The drop in activity around him doesn’t scare him as much as he expected.
“Thank you for your blessings.”
His hands fall by his sides as he performs a final bow, closing out his prayer.
He can sense someone here. Or something. There’s something watching him.
He opens his eyes and knows to look towards the tallest of the fox statues—what he sees doesn’t disappoint him, much less frighten him—the fox god of the shrine is here, perched on top of the fox’s head and clad in white and red silken robes held together by a messily tied obi. He is savouring a half-devoured mandarin, and he is smiling at Rintarou. With all of his nine fox tails fanning out behind him and a bare shoulder exposed, he is the one that has been taking care of the shrine all this time.
The fox god is here.
“Rin,” He calls out, his voice a dizzying lilt echoing in his ears. “You’ve visited me at last.”
“At last…? You were waiting for me.” Rintarou peers up at him in realization, and the fox god grins even wider to let his teeth be shown.
“Of course. The rest of your schoolmates have been much more dutiful than you.”
He makes his way down the steps of the shrine, only to stand by the smaller fox statue and scratch behind its ears. He stands a considerable distance away from the fox god, but he seems to pay it no mind at all.
“You know they just come here to pray for good grades, right.”
“Who doesn’t? Everyone wants good grades.” The fox god bites into the mandarin, skin and juice all, the excess of it spilling onto the grounds of his shrine. Except, it leaves no stain, and Rintarou is left to wonder about the incorporealness of spiritual fruits. “Except you. You’re a strange one. What was your prayer about again…”
“Clarity. To find a reason why I came up here in the first place.”
The fox god laughs, with no ill will and all the sincerity in his heart. “Clarity? Don’t you know why you came up here?”
“No,” he admits. Sure, he’s relishing the surreal feeling of talking to a god in person like a normal everyday routine, but he’s still in the dark about the true circumstances of his curiosity. It wasn’t very characteristic of him to want to explore old, run-down places by himself, much less tempt the existence of gods, but now that he’s succeeded, he may as well get some answers out of the mystery.
“And you want me to give you the answer.”
“Yes.”
“You always were demanding just like this. Fine then,” The fox god hops down from atop the statue, his kimono, haori, and tails all billowing out behind him like a trail of smoke. Mandarin thrown behind his back, wasted and forgotten, he stands right in front of Rintarou, gazing down at him with a benevolent stare. “What do you want to hear? I know you won’t be satisfied with just a simple answer of ‘curiosity’.”
“You’re right about that,” Rintarou grins for the sake of kindredship, his eyes narrowing at the fox god. “You were involved in this, weren’t you.”
The fox god sighs, throwing up his arms in a shrug. “You’re just seeing past all of me today, aren’t you? You’re too cunning for your own good. Hell, I might even say you’re as cunning as a fox.”
“That’s what middle blockers who face me say. Do I look like a fox to you?” He drawls out, taking one more look at the fox statue that resembles him and lazily poking at its eyes.
“You look every bit like a fox as you look bored. Hey, look at me when I’m talking to you.” The fox god is in his space in an instant, towering over him and bending down to slot a hand under his chin. Almost lifting Rintarou up with one hand alone, he feels the furred arm of his companion tickle his neck, and relaxes against him on instinct. “I was involved in this, yes, but don’t you want to know how?”
“Not really.” He wraps a hand around the arm hoisting him up from the ground, and squeezes absentmindedly. “You probably just used your godly powers and beckoned me to come here. Or something.”
“Or something. That’s really original, Rin.”
“Thank you,” Rintarou scoffs, staring up at the god manhandling him and finding three sets of clouded blue eyes staring back at him. Like an endless abyss of water, all too easy to drown in, and the fox god agrees: the pale complexion of his skin is turning as red as the spider lilies on his kimono.
He makes his second realization of the day. “I know you, don’t I.”
“An understatement of this century. You know me very well.” The fox god places him back on the ground, adjusting his clothes and finally slotting his other arm through the loose sleeve dangling over his shoulder, which had been bothering Rintarou all this while. “And for your petulance, I’m not telling you how.”
“Who knew a fox god could have this much personality?” He curls an eyebrow up, too amused at this situation and at the fox god seemingly flustered at a single amorous observation on his part. Having survived for thousands of years (he guesses) and yet turning coy at the very beginning of his advances, this particular god is an interesting one indeed.
In fact, it reminds him of something long forgotten, deeply buried in the annals of his memory. Blurs of rainy days punctured by sunshine, lounging under the roof of an altar, consummating in the midst of an angry thunderstorm—these are all images that exist in his mind, but there is something of a veil covering them. He cannot see them clearly, cannot picture himself in these scenarios, and the veil preventing him from getting a better look is stained in blood.
Rintarou gives the fox god a questioning look, and he only stays silent. He looks pained, as if explaining why he is so familiar haunts him.
He isn’t as disrespectful as to push the boundaries of a god, even after he’d stolen from him. The fox god had yet to bring it up too, which meant that he either didn’t care about the mysterious ring in his saisen box or was hiding something from him.
And Rintarou didn’t like it when people hid things from him, most of all gods. His life wasn’t a plaything, to be deceived and toyed with at the whim of gods that possessed power beyond his understanding, but…
…this is different. He feels the difference deep in his bones even if the fox god won’t say anything else to him, and has settled to keep him at an entire adult human’s length. Half of the body he’s presented to him, and yet he appears small, somehow.
Guess it’s time for Rintarou to take the initiative.
He crosses the threshold of the shrine separating the smaller fox statue and the tallest fox statue, reaching for the ring in his jacket and holding it out in his palm. He holds it up to show the fox god, who only stiffens in response, but he presses on.
“This is mine, isn’t it?”
The fox god fully faces him, a half-audible gasp hanging on the edge of his mouth which accompanies the distraught affirmation in his eyes. Everything he doesn’t say only confirms Rintarou’s suspicion to be true, and explains why he felt so assured to reach into the box and keep the ring for himself. He’s not being asked for it back, and it’s not being snatched from his hands.
Thus, he slips it onto the ring finger of his right hand, and notices finally that the fox god has a ring on his left claw as well—matching his in both colour and shine, save for the size larger by one.
The third realization hits him. It tumbles out of his mouth before he can stop himself.
“Gao?”
He knows him. He knows this fox god, past old-fashioned rumours and stuffy prayer etiquettes and innocent wishes with no direction. He knows him intimately enough to memorize every part of his body and mind, whether in human-like form or fox form, and he knows him under the heat of summer, the coolness of autumn, the hope of spring and the chill of winter. He knows him from close up and from far away, and from under him and beside him. His beauty swathed by white and embellished by red, and the way flowers sit on his head and cradled by his palms.
He knows who he is. His, as it has been for thousands of years.
“Rin,” Gao cries out in relief, and as if to highlight the agony in his heart, the heavens open up from above their heads and rain starts to pour down onto them despite the sun still shining strong. It soaks the both of them, but they could care less. “You remembered.”
“I did.”
“...You died. You died and reincarnated as this, I’m sorry, I couldn’t do anything and I…”
“It’s okay. I’m back now. How long did I make you wait?”
Gao takes a moment to search for a meaningful enough answer, but finds that everything falls flat in the wake of his companion coming back to grace his doorstep once again. “Three hundred and fifty seven years. And counting.”
“You don’t have to count anymore,” Rintarou stretches his arms out to reach for his hands, and Gao bends down to let him take them. “I’m home.”
The taller fox god can barely hold himself back, a sob choking him and forcing him to kneel under the weight of everything. The moss under his feet seems to shift then, retreating back into the stone brick to make space for him, and Rintarou kneels with him.
How long had he been clad in these robes? A yukata the colour of funeral white and embroidered with nothing more than flowers of mourning, and his fur matted and uneven, stuck repeating a perpetual cycle of grief until he could see Rintarou again. No wonder the paths and gates were all crumbling away, and it had turned into nothing more than a spooky urban legend that students delighted in for their own morbid interest.
But he knows this place is so much more than that. This shrine is his and Gao’s, their own slice of Takamagahara, blessed by sunshowers and brilliant red quince flowers that once sprang up in every nook and cranny of their grounds. Without Rintarou, the same cannot be said, which only gives testament to how much Gao has suffered in his absence.
To leave him here like this, alone and woe be gone, would be his new life’s greatest mistake.
“Didn’t take too long,” Gao sniffs, smiling wryly at him, and Rintarou’s chest aches at the sight of him.
“Yeah. I’m the demanding one, aren’t I?”
Gao nods, cheeks flushing as two human hands grasp his face gently and drag him down to meet a pair of lips—Rintarou’s, as he kisses him slowly and carefully, as if he’s the one in a fragile human body and not him, but they never needed bodies of flesh and sinew to treat each other like the flowers in their garden. Nurtured by sun and rain and their own dirt-soiled claws, but delicate all the same.
In the light of finally knowing who he is, it transforms him: nearly rising to Gao’s full height, his gym clothes giving way to a set of black silken robes, yukata and haori both, and it brings him much joy knowing that he is getting wedded to him under the brilliance of the sky and forest for a second time. Evenly brushed black and wheat brown fur sprouts from his limbs, and his own nine tails come from behind to behold Gao in his arms.
He conjures up a red paper umbrella in his right hand and lifts it up high to shelter them both, renewing their fox’s wedding vows after what feels like an eternity—because it has been. They have been by each other’s side from the beginning, yet it has and will never be enough.
Rintarou wishes to stay with Gao until all the stars in the sky drop from their positions, and the sun ceases to burn. Then, and only then, will he lay with him in their garden, swallowed by their flowers and the earth and the roots of the trees keeping watch over them, and smile with him in the light of non-existence, because he will be with him forever.
Gao wears white, and Rintarou wears black. The sunshower is the only witness to their matrimony, and neither of them would prefer otherwise.