A light breeze blew through the Mikage shrine, still kept neat and tidy by the fox familiar who never left.

Even if there was no God to occupy the shrine, it was still looked after as if visitors were dying to come in every day. A garden that was tended to daily, and nobody to smell the hyacinths.

Hallways swept and mopped everyday, but no one to dirty them with their slippers.

It was empty and silent, save for the fox familiar.

Today marked Mikage's 19th year away from home.

Tomoe lay in the cotton comforts of Mikage's old bed, enjoying the idea of Mikage's scent, though it had long since faded from everything in the shrine.

He snuggled up nice and close to his master's favorite quilt. Tomoe felt bitter and wounded. Today was a sensitive day for him, and it was the same every year. A hurtful reminder of the fact that Mikage would probably never return, and it certainly didn't help that the shrine felt even lonelier than it did before.

Had he done something to drive away the man who saved his life?

Was he really so unbearable?

Why wasn't Mikage back yet?

It had been long enough, and Tomoe didn't have the heart to go looking for him. He couldn't bear the crushing disappointment awaiting him if he wasn't coddled in the embrace of his loving land God the second he saw him.

He breathed in the scent of the clean bed.

Tomoe's hair was still short, the same way it was when Mikage cut his hair for him the first day he entered his shrine.

He made sure to cut it every month or so, just the way Mikage liked it.

Mikage's bed was comfier than any surface in the quaint shrine, and it felt divine to rest in the same place that Mikage used to.

Perhaps Mikage would never return, but Tomoe was nothing if not loyal.

He would keep the shrine just the way his master wanted it, nice and clean, for the rest of his existence.

He owed his life to Mikage, and he didn't have the heart to simply abandon the shrine that Mikage had welcomed him so benevolently to.

Mikage was a divine figure in Tomoe's eyes, and he only deserved the most respect, seeing as he gave a second chance to someone as disgusting as Tomoe, a wild fox.

He gazed at the small pocket mirror that Mikage left in the shrine. It was Tomoe's favorite item. Sometimes Tomoe would see a butterfly floating around the mirror when he left it unattended, and he always felt a little heartbroken whenever he tried to get the creature to rest on his hand, because it always flew away before he could feel its small form.

It was going to be alright.

Mikage cared for him dearly when he was still around. Tomoe assured himself that there must be an important reason for a God to abandon his familiar and shrine.

He held the mirror close to his cheek, the cold glass oh-so soothing to Tomoe's skin.

It felt just like Mikage's hands, but at this point, Tomoe didn't even remember what they felt like.

The morning sun began to rise, the light shining on Tomoe's skin, like Mikage's spirit, kissing his forehead and encouraging him out of bed. He spent so long in Mikage's bed that he began to overheat.

Perhaps it was a sign to get up, and get started with a new day.

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thank you for reading!

✮⋆˙ Tomoe who somehow noticed a human because you were always in his fucking periphery. A merchant from a village, a foolish name he hadn't cared to remember, you had mentioned when he first met you. A soppy life story you had overshared  as he attempted to flee from your wagon of goods he had regretfully bought from. Every village, you were there like an irritating bug he couldn't rid of. You would beam each time he dared to make eye contact, waving as if you were long lost friends, oblivious to the fact he could snap you up between his canines without a sliver of regret.

✮⋆˙ Tomoe who begrudgingly accepted your camaraderie when you began presenting small gifts and trinkets, your infectious smile burning his retinas each time you brandished the horribly wrapped delights in crumpled rice paper. He would be lying if he didn't say he kept a few rather thoughtful ones, tucked into the deepest pockets of his kimonos like a secret meant for just him.

✮⋆˙ Tomoe who stumbled upon you weeping in a heap next to your upended wagon, goods chaotically strewn across the trail towards the next village, shattered and tarnished beyond selling point. A cowards crime he had thought, destroying your livelihood for the fun of it. He would usually step around such a pathetic scene without sparing a second glance, yet the familiar face buried under soaked through sleeves pulled on the heart strings he didn't know he had.

✮⋆˙ Tomoe, who gnashed his teeth in frustration before he decided to comfort the foolish human he had grown fond of over the years of an unsuspecting 'friendship.' Clawed fingers snatching your damp ones from your eyes and wiping tears that threatened to spill over some more. "Stop blubbering, get on your feet. You humans are so easy to give up." He had snapped, though his tone lacked its usually vicious bite.

✮⋆˙Tomoe, who had taken you under his wing for what he thought would be the briefest period of time. A mat to rest your head for the evening, a spooky room you unashamedly complained about as he snapped the shoji shut on your prattling, though it did nothing to mute you. The yokai, whose tail fluffed like it had been electrocuted when he woke to you sprawled in your futon beside his. You evaded any severe backlash, due to the fact he still felt sorry for you.

✮⋆˙Tomoe, who didn't complain when your one day stay had blended into weeks, then into months. Who had allowed you to become a literal roommate, unable to protest the fact you had moved your futon permanently in next to his because apparently the shrine was definitely haunted.

✮⋆˙Tomoe who had shamefully fell first, for something as trivial as a human. He was disgusted at first, distant as he struggled to put his entire trust in the hands of such an untrusting species. Yet he eventually folded beneath his feelings, become a nearly suffocating, still grouchy, shadow.

✮⋆˙Tomoe who's hidden love language was acts of service, your meals already prepared each morning, your futon made perfectly each evening and pillow somehow fluffed exactly to how you liked it.

✮⋆˙ Tomoe who shamelessly bathed you in his scent, unbeknownst to you. Fluffing his tail against you or pretending to fix a mark on your cheek with a ticklish kitten lick against your cheek, neck whatever. You drafted it up as a fox thing for a long while until he eventually told you what he was really doing.

✮⋆˙Tomoe whose tail bottlebrushed like a frightened feline, a common occurrence, the first evening your lips finally met his, when you had been pretending to brush a knot from his silver tresses. The kiss had been presumptuous on your behalf, your eyes squeezed firmly shut in expectancy to brutal rejection. You melted when you were met with double the intensity, teeth clashing with yours as he had deepened the kiss, claiming you in a way a wild creature would.

✮⋆˙Tomoe who spent less and less time now in the spirit realm with akura-ou to focus on building a stable relationship for his partner. The once soulless and abandoned shrine he resided in brightened by your presence and a touch of decor picked by you of course. A spot he could finally call a home.

✮⋆˙ Tomoe who was stubbornly traditional, ears pinned in frustration and barely contained restraint each time your hands wondered a little too boldly between the gaps in his kimono during late nights, stuffing your hands under his arms to halt you in your ministrations.

✮⋆˙Tomoe who took his time the evening of your wedding that you had been eagerly counting the days down for, a needy heap on the futon as he enveloped you in warmth and praise. Focused on your pleasure entirely, a night he had been fantasising about for months, one he would draw out for as long as possible into the absurdly late hours of the evening.