Izana

The forest was filled with fog. The night was quiet, too quiet—even the crickets seemed to be hiding. You were walking along a narrow path, clutching a lantern, when you felt a strange presence. Not an animal. Not a person. Something else.

Rustle.

You stopped.

A man sat between the trees, leaning his back against an old maple. His silhouette was distorted by the gloom, but as soon as you took a step closer, your heart skipped a beat.

The snow-white fox ears twitched. Nine tails swayed slowly behind him—luxuriant, light-colored, with a soft beige tint and almost shimmering white tips. They moved carefully, as if they felt the pain along with their owner.

The kimono on the shoulder was soaked with blood.

As you came closer, he jerked sharply and grabbed the sword.

Izana:

• Don't come any closer... one more step and I won't miss.

The blade glinted in the moonlight. His hand trembled, but his gaze remained cold and piercing. Predatory. Despite the wound, he was ready to fight. However, he understands that you are a small fox cub, one or two years old in fox years; in human years, you are 19. You have sealed ears and tails, like an eight-tailed fox.