The Sept of Inari’s Palm
This story is true.
In youth, his name could have been the nip of his mother’s teeth, or the mouthfeel of death made on his behalf, or the press of so many small bodies buried beneath a surface of strife. His name could have been written in so many screams—laughing, laughing, always laughing. But what is an unchanged kitsune if not unspoken fox fire waiting for the world to give it a reason to spark? The reason was written in his mother’s screams as the Man of Many Tails cut her again and again and again. So many bodies that would never laugh again.
What a wonderful story that two orphaned foxes would find one another and help hide each other’s limps. What a terrible story that two young kitsune would change for the first time under the same moonbeam.
The elders told him he would build a temple out of fire and fate and be the black ash that kept it all burning. They called him Kuro. His fellow orphan called him Kouga.