A Fox's Whisper

4: |几卂尺|

I lagged behind Kazuha as we went. He occasionally glanced over his shoulder to see if I was still there, but after I glared at him as best I could, he quickly stopped. I refused to make conversation with him...I didn't like the way he talked. He sounded like he knew an infinite number of secrets and found it very amusing that I didn't.

Perhaps it's ironic of me to say, but Kaedehara Kazuha didn't sound like a human. His words sunk into your skull, and they stayed there, echoing over and over in that smooth, strained voice. Worst of all, the phrase, "Your kind hasn't been seen in five hundred years" kept hammering around my head without ceasing.

Five hundred years? I'd been a stone figure for five centuries? If that was the case, why didn't I have five tails instead of one? You see, a kitsune starts off as a fox, but after one hundred years, they're able to take human form. Every one hundred years, they grow another foxtail, and if they're lucky to live long enough, they become a nine-tails kitsune. I was exactly one hundred and thirteen years old when Dorobo stole my star ball. I supposed having been immortalized in stone halted my aging process.

You might be thinking that after five hundred years Yamabiko Dorobo would be dead. Why shouldn't he be? Surely somewhere along the way he'd perished. But I knew Dorobo. I knew that he was not an ordinary mortal, though I hadn't seen his face. With his power to steal voices and imitate anyone he'd ever heard, Dorobo was certainly no regular human. It's a typical rule of thumb in Inazuma: if you're inhuman, you have an indefinite lifespan.

Death shouldn't have taken me by surprise. It had never taken me by surprise. But it was strangely eerie learning that in a way, all those kitsune were dead to the world and I was the only one left. I, who was the most detested and deplorable of my race, I who should've died long ago, I...the Void Kitsune. It seemed like a very cruel, poorly made joke. Why had I awoken but they hadn't?

Selfishly, however, I didn't think much about the lost memories of the fox people. Instead, I was thinking about how to get my star ball back. Once we reached Lady Yae, I was certain that she would know something about Yamabiko Dorobo. After all, if he had turned me to stone, who was to say that he hadn't done so for everyone else? I hoped Kazuha was correct in saying that she would know about the fall of the kitsune.

"Tell me," Kazuha called to me from where he was much farther ahead. He'd stopped to wait for me to catch up. I hadn't realized I'd been moving so slowly. "What is a star ball anyways? I assume it is of great importance?"

I didn't meet his curious gaze as we now walked side by side, Kazuha matching my pace. "Yes..." I mumbled. "It's a kitsune's greatest treasure. Losing it is akin to losing a limb."

Kazuha nodded, satisfied with that answer. "Well, then I'm glad to be of assistance to you," he said. "I believe I can understand a little of what you mean. I've often wondered what it would be like if I lost my Vision now. I've come to rely on it."

I jerked my head over to look at the samurai, studying him. Sure enough, unbeknownst to me, he'd had a Vision hanging from his clothing all this time. An Anemo Vision. And I hadn't seen it at all.
I knew very little about Visions, very little indeed. But I didn't think his Vision could mean half as much to him as my star ball meant to me. A Vision isn't a life force.

The way I see it, one's life force is the determinate in our vitality, our happiness, our lives. But I held my tongue and didn't tell Kazuha that.

"So this Yamabiko Dorobo..." Kazuha said. "Who is he?"

I tensed, my steps slowing even more. I didn't trust Kazuha. He hadn't given me much of a reason to not trust him, but human men are fickle and capricious. They're also incredibly good actors...