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Snow fell in thick, sparkling sheets as Giyū trudged up the winding path toward the old shrine. Most villagers called him a reckless, half-mad child for spending his days alone among the ruins. Yet Giyū was never truly alone there. Deep within the crumbling torii gates and moss-covered stones lived a kitsune named Sabito, his one and only friend. The moment the ruined torii came into view, Giyū broke into a run. His voice rang out clearly through the falling snow.
"Sabito!"
The wind answered him first. It swirled into a small spiral in the far corner of the shrine, lifting a flurry of white flakes. From beneath the pile of snow, Sabito's form slowly emerged. He shook out his fur, sending glittering powder flying in every direction. Unlike most kitsune, whose faces bore bright red markings, Sabito's were pale and delicate, almost albino in their pinkish-white hue. Only the faintest blush of color lingered around his eyes and the tips of his ears.
Most days Sabito would tell him the old cautionary tale of the kitsune; a story Giyū would one day pass down to his own children so it would never be forgotten. Hearing the tale was one of Giyū’s favorite parts of their time together. In exchange, he always brought food offerings. That day he had brought smoked salmon and roasted sweet potatoes, still warm from the fire.
“I suppose you wish to hear it again.”
Sabito had spoken, his voice light and teasing. His grayish-lavender eyes landed on the offering with clear delight, even though he had told Giyū many times that he did not need to bring anything. A fanged smile curved his lips as the smaller boy nodded eagerly. Those ocean-blue eyes always looked at him with such endless wonder.
Giyū settled against Sabito’s side, leaning his head on the older kitsune’s shoulder the way he always did. Sabito’s voice grew softer, tinged with a quiet melancholy as he began the familiar story.
“Long ago, kitsune did not fear mankind. They walked openly among humans, freely granting their deepest desires. The only price was one of the kitsune’s own nine tails. An elderly kitsune would often warn his pups: never let mankind reduce you to a single tail. For when a kitsune loses its final tail, it perishes.”
Sabito paused, his ears flattening slightly against his head as if he still did not fully agree with the warning. Then he continued, voice low.
“Today, kitsune live in fear of humanity, who now hunt them relentlessly in search of the creature that can bring them fortune and wishes.”
Once the tale was finished, they shared the smoked salmon and roasted sweet potatoes together. Sabito’s small fangs always glimmered in the winter light as he bit into the offerings, a sight that never failed to mesmerize Giyū. Years passed in this peaceful routine. Both of them believed their friendship would last forever. They would learn one winter, when Giyū was twenty-one, that forever could be shattered far too easily.
The snow that winter had fallen heavier than in any year before, piling in deep drifts that crunched loudly under Giyū’s boots as he made his usual trek up the shrine’s pathway. His breath rose in the cold in spiraling fogged clouds in the frigid air, and the bundle of fresh offerings felt heavier than usual against his chest.
“Sabito!”
The winds that usually greeted him were eerily still, wrongly quiet. It had Giyū's heart sinking like a stone thrown into still waters. Something was terribly wrong. Cruel, swirling panic rose deep within his chest, tightening his throat. His steps quickened until he was almost running toward the ruins of the shrine. There in the cold powdered snow hardly visible was Sabito. If Giyū hadn't known what to look for he wouldn't have seen the kitsune laying there far too still.
For the first time Giyū was able to see just how many tails Sabito had the kitsune had always hidden that from him. Sabito had always reassured him always that they were all there however laying in the snow red spilling from where once grayish-lavender gorgeous eyes once laid, Sabito had no tails left. It wasn't fair Sabito had promised him that they'd spend forever together and yet there he laid in the cold powdered snow lifeless, face permanently frozen in an expression of fear because of the cruelty of mankind and Giyū couldn't do anything about it. He'd been too little too late to save the only friend he ever had.