#factorial

There happen to be two ways a Kitsune is created. Primarily, it's through the union of two ascended foxes - a kit conceived this way is immortal and sapient from the beginning, gaining the ability to transform in just a few years of life. Even with a single birth usually resulting in three to six newborn foxes, dogs are rare, with one being born in every fourth or fifth litter on average. The second way of creation doesn't favor them either - so far, there have only been a handful of wild dogs that lived long enough to become ascendants, further reducing the introduction of males into the population. Luckily, evolution had it that those rare men welcomed into the world were incredibly resilient to illnesses and injuries, even by Kitsune standards, letting them live and spread their genes for generations to come. With the proper approach, the Kitsune weren't in any way threatened with extinction. 

As is commonly observed by historians, culture reflects the nature of a species, and such is the case for Kitsune. Over the years, the female-dominated society came to a simple conclusion: males are rare and must be protected. This prime example of a logical takeaway soon led to another, less egalitarian idea - something human researchers would refer to as infirmatus sexus, observing such inequalities in some cultures of their own. Kitsune believed that males must be protected, yes, but thought of them as inferior in intelligence and overall wit, as they rarely ascended from the wild. The vixen majority had no issue with this idea and the society turned matriarchal, increasingly more restrictive towards the men. But it was justified, in their eyes - they were required to prolong the species, right? As time went by, so did the objectification of the male sex progress ever further. 

Before the fall, society was based around large family units - lines ruled over by the oldest vixen, referred to as the matriarch. Beneath her were others - first, her own daughters, followed by those of her predecessor, then their offspring and finally, at the lowest rung, the foxes that just stood up from four paws. Dogs were not subject to this hierarchy, as they were dispensed with as objects with a clear owner - usually the matriarch. She had the right to mate with him, and when a change of power came, so too did the patriarch - usually switched for a younger male from another family, the further, the better. Similarly, male kits stayed with their father (raised, of course, under the careful scrutiny of the vixens) until they were of breeding age - just seven years of age - to be pawned off to another lineage for political favor, land, rights or simply cold, hard currency. 

While kitsune never age - at some point in their life they simply ascend, becoming lesser divinities - reproductive capabilities lessen with time. It’s not much of a problem for vixens; although every single one dreams of introducing new kits into the world and making a name for herself, not many ever get the chance to. For dogs, however… The endings were covered in shadows and mystery. Old males were handed over to a special, internal sect of the shrine, never to be seen again. 

Every time Miko thinks of this fate, her ears flick in discomfort. Whatever met those foxes in the silent rooms of shrine facilities, it was surely the pinnacle of her race’s “kindness”. 

Factorial was born into one such lineage on the fringes of the nation. He still recalled the drawings of his infant self – an adorable pup with a pristine but messy white coat, two little ears pointing out, greedily taking in the sounds of the world. Allegedly, he had four litter sisters, though he never seemed to recall their names. The first memories of young Factorial were primarily centered around his father – a towering, muscular fox with a gleam of wit in his eyes and grey eating away at his own fur. Despite his young age and fittingly strapping appearance, Factorial always saw him as wise and ancient – maybe because of the hair, darkened by stress and exhaustion. He was cynical at times, but loving nonetheless. One of the fondest memories Factorial had was when his father would lift a panel from the floor and let him run free in the forest outside. There were rules of course – don't let anyone see him and come back before the first rays of sun. He enjoyed his time of unsupervised play, chasing squirrels and exploring the woods, always coming back through the same crawl space before it dawned. His father would wash all the dirt off and send him to sleep with a warm hug, asking him to keep quiet about his adventure. Of course, he nodded along, but being a kid created the inevitability of a slip up. After he mentioned it to his female playmate once, he was taken away from that house and never saw it again.

He doesn’t know what became of his father. He didn't even get to know his name. 

The new house was larger, and so were the girls inside. While he didn't like playing with vixens at home - there was always an adult watching and Factorial would get relentlessly berated for injuring himself or being too friendly with the girls - he at least had somebody to have fun with. There, Factorial had nothing. Lady Matsui, his owner and wife-to-be, simply had him locked in a room with books and toys to get himself busy in the few free moments the dog had. He hated it there, but any mention of his feelings would get him a firm spanking or ear pulling, followed by one of the toys he had taken away. Any sign of disobedience to his handlers, especially during exercise or classes, would get him punished. Matsui didn't seem to have patience for Factorial, and was constantly complaining; she wanted a husband with red fur, not white fur. He was simply a temporary solution, but eventually, he would have all her deepest fantasies memorised. Factorial was never part of them - as she said, she shouldn't get too attached. He was to be replaced shortly, after all. At least the food was alright back then. Fried tofu, sweets, sunsettia juice and grilled meat were great for his growing, teenage body. Within just a few years of training and special diets Factorial grew into a beautiful fox with snow-white fur, a satisfactory height and a lean-but-muscular build.

Years went by and it was clear that Matsui would have to begrudgingly accept Factorial as her permanent husband. She didn't take it lightly at first, but after a time of angry outbursts and drinking, she had a sudden change of heart. “If I'm to own you,” she said, “I should at least train you properly.” And trained he was, both physically and in mind. His free time was reduced to null and his days became dedicated to working out and studying. Sometimes the two were mixed – he had to recite the rules while doing push-ups. Good boys always sleep at night. Good boys thank their mistress for food. Good boys always listen. Good boys never question what they are told. Then, he was served unsalted, nutritious foods. Raw vegetables, slightly cooked meat, plain rice and raw fish made up his diet – all natural, as his Lady wanted. All tasteless. Any fussing, talking back, crying, making mistakes or disobeying would quickly put him in the punishment room. She would slap a bamboo cane on his hands and butt until he was red, sore and bleeding, she would make him kneel on small rocks or sit up the wall for hours, sometimes she would whip him. “Military discipline.” All the while she constantly announced her displeasure with his existence.

No matter how fit Factorial was made to be, it was never enough. So his diet was changed, shrinking endlessly to meet her impossible standards. No matter if he was tall, it was always too short for Matsui. So he was made to hold on to a bar with rocks tied to his ankles to stretch him out. His knees still hurt sometimes, the skeletal deformations made permanent by this regular exercise. No matter how much stamina he had, he always ended mating too early. So he was trained, day and night, forced to perform through pain, distress and exhaustion. Sometimes Matsui had balls or parties held at her estate, and he was the main entertainment. He would dance, sing and play any instruments they wanted, but his wife and her friends were never there for his artistic skills in the first place. His cries, moans and screams were much finer. Now that he thought about it, her friends were likely never allowed to mistreat the dogs of their houses, so they took out their frustrations and carried out their wildest fantasies on him – without consequences. They were smaller, they were lighter, they were physically weaker than him, and yet he couldn't defend himself. It would only make things worse – far worse if he did. He felt filthy. He felt humiliated. Afterwards he cleaned himself frantically, but the feeling of their hands on him never faded.

He ended up rubbing his delicate, perfectly groomed skin so hard it became raw and bleed, forming disgusting, blackened scabs.

Years, decades, centuries passed. The outside world became increasingly further and further away, lush forests and interesting critters replaced by pruned gardens and dark rooms. He soon forgot how it was to run free, to live and play in a place without tall walls surrounding him. Factorial’s bright innocence was slowly extinguished, no place remaining as a safe sanctuary for his mind to retreat to. His favorite spots in the house lost their charm quickly, becoming spots of premeditated abuse instead of refuges. He did not feel safe anywhere. At any moment Matsui could send her servants to drag him out, crying and screaming out of his bed to test new ideas or simply amuse her. And amuse her he did, with fervor and fake joy. He forced himself to become his old self during these moments in a hopeless attempt at convincing his wife that he did not need punishment. The harsher her training became, the less entertainment he received. Back then, when the times were good, he settled to sleep amongst countless plushies after long days of reading fairytales and playing Temari. Now, he could only stare blankly at the ceiling, comforted solely by the lack of additional torture. By himself, he became a reclusive, quiet fox. Saying anything more than what was strictly expected of him usually ended up badly, so he decided it's better to just stay silent when not prompted - even in his lonesome. Matsui was not above looking through purpose-made openings to spy on him in search of new, creative ways to humiliate and torture him. It was better not to give her inspiration.

Taking his punishments and abuse required the opposite approach. He had to provide entertainment; scream his lungs out, plead, whimper and shriek without reservation. If he didn’t, then Matsui and her vixens would grow tired of his displays, which could only result in his early retirement. The only occasion he was allowed to express his emotions was in his room after nightfall. He taught himself to scream without sound, to cry silently, to claw at his face without leaving marks. Otherwise, he did all the things every male did - trained, ate, rested, had sex, attended events as a decoration and primarily - mated. Unlike his father, Factorial never had the chance to raise pups. The female kits were always under the care of the vixens, and the boy didn't have the luck to sire any sons - for which he was always berated and beaten by his owner, even when she was pregnant. To her, she said, the dog was useless. Worthless. Even as a breeder, something even the most retarded of his kind could do. Matsui told him he was worse than them. Still, despite not being able to hold his children in his arms, Factorial did his best to learn of them. Some of his caretakers were kind enough to let the male know their number and given names. He diligently noted these details on a piece of paper, writing the names he would give his daughters if he could. Naomi. Ai. Juri. Kana. These and many more were the only connection he had to his little ones. 

It was the only good thing he was forced to leave behind when he got the chance to flee. 

Flee… It was such a lie. Factorial did not have such a word in his vocabulary. He could not imagine committing such a blatant crime against his handler. His punishment would undoubtedly be the crowning jewel of his tortured life. Matsui would make sure that even the most cruel of her friends would shudder in disgust at what fate she would condemn him to.

Internal rivalry between daughters, sisters and mothers was commonplace, so much so that it sometimes evolved into internal wars - he was exiled during one of those. Matsui made quite the negative reputation for herself, not just by mistreating you, but by cheating other families. They were out for blood, and although they wanted to steal him away for themselves, Matsui’s heirs decided that Factorial deserved a chance. Was it a sudden throb of some remnants of morality deep within? A carefully concealed empathy? Or just a failsafe to spite their matriarch? He doesn’t know to this day. Once the fighting broke out, they took him away, threw him on a small boat he had no idea how to pilot and kicked it out to sea. 

It was hardly pleasant at the moment, but Factorial would always thank them for taking pity on him after he landed in Inazuma. In the human nation of thunder, everything felt foreign. It was a bigger island, with long stretches of empty fields between sparse human settlements. These smaller, mortal creatures were quite the nuisance to him – although he had seen a few traders in his life, he never got to take a closer look. But, instinctually, he knew that stumbling into the view of a human guard was a mistake. He ran away and tried to hide amongst the jagged cliffs near the island's largest mountains, but he had unknowingly walked right into the hands of another, pink-haired vixen.

His arrival in Inazuma was noticed instantly. After all, humans hadn't seen a fox other than Yae Miko for a few centuries now. When she initially heard the news, she couldn't believe it – definitely, it was just another poorly-observed monster, or a mere trick of the light. But she still wanted to confirm that rumor, and the moment she saw a white pair of ears amongst the usual crowds of Inazuma City, she had a single thought – to catch him. Snatch him right up in a net, for whatever silly, selfish reason, if only to touch him and ensure he was real. It wasn't a surprise for her that he panicked and hid as quickly as he showed up – he had reasons to believe his freedom would be unwelcome. Finding him was barely a challenge for her nose, and with the help of a few shrine maidens, he was captured and brought back to her residence.

What an incredible sight Factorial was. Definitely one for very, very sore eyes – Miko had long since abandoned the hopes of finding a partner of her own species and having a litter, which definitely contributed to her cynicism and general exhaustion with life. But here he was, real and in the flesh. An actual dog. A handsome, muscular if malnourished dog. Soon enough, however, Miko’s initial excitement dwindled and the factual gravity of things reached her senses. In front of her, curled on the floor, was a dirty, underfed, terrified creature. For somebody that, in the post-cataclysm circumstances of human society she was born into, would shake every room he would enter, Factorial was frightful and quiet. He needed proper care, so Miko announced he would be staying with her until further notice. She then rolled up her sleeves and got to work.

There was no doubt that he could understand her, and speak by extension, but he was significantly suspicious of her. Surely, she would want to chain him down again, he thought. She might even be worse than Matsui for all he knew. Each meal she offered could contain one of those strange powders they made him eat when he was misbehaving, putting him to sleep and letting her do Archons-know-what to him. Some of them didn’t even taste or smell differently. So he pushed the bowl away, and her alongside it. Factorial had to stay strong. He got a chance at deciding for himself, and he would not let it go without at least trying.

—

She takes the handle into her hands and, as gently as she can, pushes it down. The room before her is bathed in darkness, but her eyes pierce through it without issue. The matches she left on the table are untouched.

What a surprise, she muses.

From the moment her foot stepped over the threshold, there had been a pair of eyes boring into her frame. Miko casts a discreet glance towards the bedside corner. The resting spot itself was stripped of everything besides the mattress, now placed into a cozy nest of blankets and pillows in the safest spot in the room, the point furthest away from the door. From there, Factorial’s eyes surveyed Miko’s every move. A part of her couldn’t hold a smile. The unfortunate circumstances aside, it was quite adorable.

“Good evening,” Miko says, picking up a candle from the shelf. She puts the plate of food she brought on the table and lights it, illuminating the space with a warm, flickering light. Placing the candle close to herself, she looks directly his way.

There is no response. His grey eyes continue staring at her, unblinking.

No luck just yet. But I clearly have his attention, at the very least.

A sigh escapes her lips. Miko takes the plate and steps a bit closer to him. “You clearly don't trust me. I can assure you I mean you no harm, and that I won't do anything against your wish, but I bet you want to see for yourself. And while that is alright, I doubt you will get to, the way things are going now.” She crouches down, placing it on the wooden floor. “You must have been through a lot, but please, you need to eat. I don't know what you enjoy the most, so I feel like this is the right place to start.”

Again, he remains still. Up close, Miko can see the blank expression on his face, dirty with mud, sweat and dried blood. Miko rolls her eyes, but manages to silence the groan of frustration before it forms. By no stretch of the imagination was she the best person to take him in, but if not her, then who?

Do you want to be difficult? Fine then. Two can play at that game.

“Alright then. Suit yourself – if you don't feel like helping yourself to this positively scrumptious meal, I will.” Miko takes the single pair of chopsticks she brought in her hands and lifts a piece of sushi from the plate up to her mouth. She hums ostensibly, enjoying the taste of cold-smoked salmon.

Something moves in the darkness. His ears are fully up and pointed her way, like radar dishes picking up every deliberate crunch and smack of her lips. The plump, snow-white rice and the bright orange salmon exude a tempting smell, reminding him of just how hungry he is. If she eats it without problem, then he should be fine too…

Factorial slowly creeps forward, the blankets and pillows around him silently falling as he stretches his aching arms and legs. Miko pretends not to notice him, but in reality her ears tell her exactly what's going on. She observes as his hand emerges into the light, his eyes never leaving her figure. Her sharp eyes instantly notice how chewed his fingers are, with no untouched white nail in sight. He carefully takes the piece of food and, after waiting a moment, making sure it would not be punished, sniffs it. After confirming it's alright, he bites into it. The delightful taste of well-seasoned rice and real, fresh fish lights up his senses.

He reaches for another. And another. And another. Before long, Miko is pushed back in his priority list and he sits in front of her, wolfing down the food straight off the plate in her hands. The vixen smiles.

Finally, he’s eating. It might not be much, but it’s a start. You're just like a stray cat, are you not? Scared, neglected and mistreated. Afraid of every shadow.

She delights in watching his ears tremble under the speed of his eating.

Such a cute creature. Who would ever want to hurt him? Certainly not me. Miko tilts her head. I wonder if I can…

“Thank you for the meal.”

His sudden words make her pause. The voice, although raspy and quiet, bears no sign of fading. She never once doubted he could speak, but at the same time she didn’t expect him to open up at something as simple as food. It was important nonetheless – if he spoke once, it would be just a matter of time before he spoke again. And then she could learn everything about him. Who he is, what he likes, and most importantly, who hurt him.

“Do not mention it, little one.” She slowly stretches out her hand towards him. “May I?”

He stops eating for a second before bringing his nose closer to her hand. It smells like salmon. He returns his attention to the delicious sushi on the plate.

With a hum of satisfaction at not being perceived as immediate danger, she places her hand between his long ears. They fold to the sides, making way for her. Miko rubs her hand over his grimy, brownish fur. It was white once, for sure, but now that colour is just barely showing in places. No worries – she would wash him and make sure his coat would return to its undoubtedly splendid layer.

“I’m here. It will be alright.”

There’s a long road ahead of us. But you won’t have to walk it alone, dear.