It... had been many months since I ran away from home.
Me... Haruka Kazama. An up-and-coming guardian, destined to protect all living beings once I gathered enough tails in my long kitsune life. Instead, I fled my clan and broke its laws, choosing to live among those I was taught to watch from afar.
In our tongue, we call such guardians Shugorei (守護霊).
Truth be told, I never liked it here.
I... wanted to explore, just like Naruto-sensei did. To see what lay beyond the boundaries of our clan. To live alongside the people of Gensokyo and reality instead of merely observing them.
It was well into the night when my geta clicked softly against the cobblestone path, carrying me toward the largest house in the village.
The house I once called home.
Sliding the door open, I stepped inside and made my way through the quiet halls toward his room.
The room... of one of the village's lords.
He... was as imposing as ever. Even after I had ran away... Even after disappearing for months...
... He neither smiled... nor scolded me.
Instead, he sat at his desk, brush in hand, continued writing upon his scroll.
Administrative work... as always.
It felt like sitting in this room would suck the life out of me. The silence seemed to stretch to what it felt like an eternity.
Then... at last, he spoke.
Moving before his desk, I lowered myself into a seiza position, head bowed respectfully.
"You kept your promise. You have returned on your birthday."
The scratching of his brush resumed, no longer looking at me.
"And? What have you accomplished this year?"
With my hands tightening around my sleeves, I spoke.
"... I have received offerings on my birthday."
They... were not offerings. They were gifts.
Precious gifts... from my friends.
But those words will not sit well with him.
After all, kitsunes received offerings. Not presents.
"... Interesting." A small click on his tongue, almost as if it was completely unexpected. "So. What did you receive?"
"... A finely-crafted Fuuma Shuriken worthy of Ama-no-Murakumo's praise, enchanted kunai, a signed card of my favourite character, and a sack of potatoes I shared with fellow worshippers..."
The silence... was deafening.
His brush stopped, as if he was struggling to process what he just heard.
... Then, without another expression, he resumed writing.
"And do you believe these are offerings one would present to a kitsune?"
"And what, pray tell, are offerings?"
"... Fried tofu, demonstration of faith, and gold... my lord."
The pause remained... before he resumed writing on his scroll.
"And you would do well to remember that."
Scratch... Scratch... Scratch...
"Until then, these 'offerings' of yours are of no use to the clan... Haruka Kazama."
Yet, those gifts... and the friendships I had...
... were worth more than all the gold in the world to me.
