Mikoto was a young girl in the bloom of youth. Though her life had been brief so far, she had already received kindness that could never be repaid. The first of these was the kindness of her foster father.
War, plague, monsters... Mikoto was born into a turbulent era. The Far East was engulfed in war, and displaced people were everywhere. By the time Mikoto understood the world, she had already lost her parents. The one who cared for her was a god named Takemikazuchi.
At first, Mikoto didn't realize how different she was. It wasn't until she saw a child snuggling in its mother's arms that she understood—she had no parents of her own.
"Takemikazuchi, where did my parents go?" Mikoto blinked her eyes as she asked. Her heart held no sorrow, nor any sense of loneliness. It was merely an innocent question from a child.
Yet Takemikazuchi wore a faintly sorrowful expression as he softly replied, "They have gone to a distant land, and we can never meet again..."
Young Mikoto didn't understand why the god seemed so troubled. She gazed at him, clenching her tiny fist. "Takemikazuchi is Mikoto's daddy, so don't cry..."
"..." Takemikazuchi likely hadn't expected to be the one receiving comfort. He smiled softly and gently replied, "Yes, you're right. Mikoto is my daughter."
He looked up at the sky and murmured to himself, "Illness stems from the imbalance of energy, and energy comes from the body. Since you are my child, you must practice martial arts with discipline." Mikoto didn't fully understand the meaning behind his words, but she could sense a heavy, invisible expectation settle upon her.
"Mm, Mikoto will work hard to get Daddy a big house!"
"How dependable." Takemikazuchi murmured with a smile.
He saw potential in Mikoto, like a sapling exposed to war, yet growing stronger with each challenge. That was the stubbornness and integrity unique to this era.
"I'll also build lots of hot springs for Daddy!"
"That's just because you want to soak in them yourself..."
And so, Takemikazuchi gained an adopted daughter.
The second great blessing Mikoto received was companionship. Takemikazuchi's shrine was far from bustling with incense and worshippers. To improve everyone's meals in her own way, Mikoto trained under the War God while often venturing into the mountains to gather wild vegetables. Perhaps it was her dirty appearance, or maybe just bad luck, but Mikoto always drew the attention of passersby.
"Mama, why is that child alone?"
"Don't ask. Let's hurry."
"But Mama said we can't go out alone without parents or an older brother. Doesn't she have parents?"
"Enough, stop staring."
"...."
Children's thoughts are always hard to fathom. Mikoto, the early bloomer, understood that the child likely meant no harm. But words like these still dug deep into her heart.
Mikoto never cried. To be precise, she would never cry within the shrine. No matter how deeply wronged or heartbroken, Mikoto always hid away, waiting until no one was around before she allowed herself to cry.
Her way of crying was unique. She placed her hands over her chest, careful not to let her tears stain her clothes. On one hand, she didn't want anyone to notice; on the other, wet clothes might trouble Takemikazuchi. She would press her chest and lean forward, as if crying out her very soul. Each time, Mikoto had to be careful—no red eyes, no audible sobs. She buried all her sorrow within, never sharing it with anyone.
But this habit would eventually be exposed.
While the children of the shrine were playing in the fields, they passed an old man dressed in rags. Perhaps something in him stirred, for he sneered coldly, "Bah! A bunch of unwanted bastards."
Though the man seemed deranged, Mikoto ran forward without hesitation. Using the martial arts taught by Takemikazuchi, she swiftly brought him down. It was the first time Mikoto had ever struck a commoner—and the last.
Afterward, Mikoto naturally faced punishment. Considering the man's initial insolence, Takemikazuchi merely gave her a verbal reprimand. "There's no need to heed others' malicious words. Martial arts exist for self-defense. If the other possesses Falna, the danger lies with you instead."
After hearing this teaching, Mikoto left the shrine alone.
"Um... are you okay?"
The girl named Chigusa trailed behind Mikoto, asking tremulously.
"I'm fine. Just need some time alone."
Mikoto replied softly. She understood the teachings of the God Takemikazuchi, yet her sense of injustice remained unresolved. Mikoto suppressed the tears threatening to spill, desperate to shake off Chigusa. Yet the usually timid girl clung tightly to the hem of Mikoto's robe, refusing to let go.
"I know... Mikoto always thinks of us first... So... thank you..."
Before Chigusa could finish, sobs broke through her voice.
Hearing that heartfelt cry, Mikoto's own tears spilled over. The two of them wept together on the grass. That day, Mikoto lost the privacy of her solitary tears, but gained a companion to share them with.
Unlike Mikoto, Chigusa couldn't hide her feelings. She became very close to another boy named Ouka. Before anyone realized it, Mikoto's secret was completely exposed.
The shrine children were all orphans. Expecting a male god to understand every child's thoughts was simply too much to ask. Perhaps wanting to impress Chigusa, or perhaps inspired by Mikoto's courageous stand, Ouka began uniting everyone as their leader. Together they climbed mountains to gather wild vegetables, washed clothes by the river, and ignored others' mockery and scorn.
As they grew, an invisible bond strengthened between them. It washed away loneliness and swept away others' malice. That feeling was called companionship, or perhaps family.
Soon, this bond brought new kindness to Mikoto.
"Takemikazuchi-sama, what is this...?"
Mikoto stared wide-eyed at the grain piled on the table. The shrine had always been destitute; she had never seen such abundance before.
"These were sent from the mansion down the mountain. Word of your foraging for wild vegetables reached the young lady of that household," Takemikazuchi explained. "She told her father she couldn't eat it all herself and asked that the food be shared with the mountain gods and children. She's a kind-hearted child, just like you all..."
Takemikazuchi smiled gently, murmuring softly.
That day, as Mikoto and her companions savored the delicious food, joy radiated from every face.
Someone remarked, "They sent us so many good things! We absolutely must thank her properly!"
The words sparked an immediate chorus of agreement from the children.
Driven by curiosity and gratitude, Mikoto and her friends secretly made their way down the mountain and scaled the wall. Beyond the horizon of their gaze sat a fox-girl.