sub-genres: retelling/reimagining, romance, mythology, tragedy, betrayal
content warnings: fade-to-black xxx scenes

This short story is one of many from the world's Holy Anthology and recounts the mythology behind Tsunai's patron deity, Tennu, which Kiet refers to in the first half of The Courtesy of Kings. This is a sample of the full story, which is free for my tier 1+ patrons to download, or available as a pdf  e-book through the link in the in-line comment.

★ THE GODDESS, OR THE FOX? ★

When the gods still roamed the land, the spirits of nature roamed with them.

The world was not as it is today. Water and Flame still fought for dominance, Light and Shadow were yet to strike balance, and the Seasons chased each other as they pleased.

Only the gods could tame them each into submission, and it was their task to lay the laws of the land and see to its observance. Many did not work alone, though. They had champions and servants, guardians and bhaktee, who spread their laws and meted their justice.

This is the tale of Tennu and her guardian, Kitsuo the nine-tailed fox.

Tennu's Purpose was to shepherd Spring—a carefree spirit who cared little for the war between Summer and Winter—and to watch over Earth, whose grounded nature made him prone to the mischievous spirits of Frost and the malevolent swarms of Plague.

All of them she watched from her home, high in the mountain forests where she had clear view of Ocean and her mood swings down below in the south, the occasional lovers' quarrels between Thunder and Lightning up above, and the dark cloud far in the north where Decay slept in his cave.

It was here—north—that Tennu would begin her day. Every morning she would ascertain that indeed he still slept; and if she saw even a hint of a stir, she would whisper him back to a deep slumber. Only then would she walk south, and as she walked, she would nourish the hungers of Earth. There was a cliff upon the highest point of the mountain, and from there would she gaze down upon Ocean and the tempestuous spirits that often goaded her to a fury. She would keep the highest waves from battering into Earth's most vulnerable shores, with a breath she would send the storm spirits scattering away, and if any of them were feeling particularly disobedient, Kitsuo would swoop down and maul them into submission.

For this, the fox was granted abilities beyond an ordinary kanōhi's usual talents. Her paws were blessed to tread and walk upon water; her long, lavish tails could glide her gently down the greatest heights; and her fangs could pierce anything from shadow to steel.

Thus would their days pass, long after Spring exhausts from the chase, long after Summer nips at her heels and sweeps the land under his heat, and long into the sombre days when finally Autumn surpasses them both.

The forest had shed its last green when the human came, hungry and cold and wet with rain.

It was Kitsuo who found him, collapsed before the shrine gates. He smelled of pine and hope, dirt and sadness, so she nudged him onto her back and carried him into the temple.

He slept for five days more. In the morning of the sixth, he opened his eyes to the layered cross-hatch of cypress beams above him, the soft weaves of rush straw beneath, and the soothing hum of Tennu's hymn.

Her voice was ageless, as rich and smooth as undisturbed waters, and he fell instantly entranced.

'You are awake at last,' said Tennu. 'There is food on the table beside you.'

He sat on his knees and looked around the room; not for the table nor the food, but for the deity. Her voice came from behind a thick, paper screen door, and her silhouette danced in candle light.

'It is not much,' she continued, 'for I fear your mortal body will not withstand much in its current condition.'

'Thank you, goddess.' He bowed until the tip of his nose met the chōza.

'So you do know where you are.' This was a different voice, deeper. If Tennu spoke in silk, then Kitsuo spoke in velvet, for even in her kanōhi form could she speak the human tongue.

The fox moved, her silhouette rising from the floor, her tails spreading like a fan behind her. The human swallowed, but his throat was dry. 'I—I do, O Fanged One.'

'So tell me. Why have you scaled these steep mountains, hiked these trackless forests, only to disturb the Spring Mother weeks before she is set for her Long Sleep?'

'I—I come from the village of Hyotsu, far in the east, beyond the greylands where Fog spirits play, deep in a forgotten corner where Spring no longer visits. Our own springs once warm and fragrant, our rivers once rich with haul, for nigh a decade now lie dry and empty. I've come to ask, Spring Mother, that you could find it in you to send a breath of Spring our way.'

Kitsuo's red eyes smouldered through the paper. 'Spring plays where she pleases. It takes all my claws and fangs to ensure she comes at all.'

'I beg of you, Spring Mother; our people are hungry, our livestock shrivelled from thirst, and our neighbours in the distant north are soon to follow.'

Finally Tennu lifted a hand. The human bowed again to still his trembling lips.

'It is not yet Spring's time to lead the Seasons,' she said. 'Autumn is yet to secede the race, and Winter close at his tail.'

'Then ... then I beseech you perhaps a blessing of Earth, that our lands may bear fruit again, that our hardened soil opens once more.'

'It is near time for my Long Sleep, and with me thus too slumbers Earth. He is weary. He must his strength recover before Spring's return.'

'Then I will wait. I will wait here until she returns. Whilst you sleep, I will wait. Whilst Winter storms through the land, I will wait. And when you wake, I will beg of you once more.'

At this Tennu slid the paper screen door aside and stepped into the room.

She was beautiful; the paintings, the tales, the songs—none could do her justice. Thick, black hair draped down her shoulders, past her hips, soft and smooth as flowing water. She was tall, serene, like a willow tree in a field of grass; her skin unblemished, creamy like a cluster of pale yellow-eyed grass. When she walked, the hems of her robe swept the chōza with a whisper. The human could not take his eyes off her.

'Winter is an avaricious spirit, and persistent. She likes to send her more malicious playthings, up here in the mountains. It will not be an easy hermitage.'

'Still I will stay, O Spring Mother, if only to prove my faith.'

Tennu smiled. Not many humans came to visit her, and this had been the first in so many years. The first who offered himself a trial. 'Very well. But you will earn your room and board.'

And so he did.

    
★   ★   ★
             

When Tennu walked, he would clear her path. When she ate, he would hunt her food. When she watched the spirits, he would watch her.

'Do you see that?' They were at the edge of the forest, where the trees had thinned into a grove. Many had lost all its leaves, and upon their bare branches glimmered small specks of white light, jumping from one bough to another, seeping into cracks between the bark, leaving only their skittish laughter behind.

The human had never seen anything like it. His mouth dropped open, he rubbed his eyes. But he was in the presence of the Spring Mother and therefore blessed with her Sight. He reached towards the branch of a nearby ginkgo where danced a handful of the creatures. They fled before his fingertips, disappearing too fast for his eyes to follow. His hand curled around the empty branch, its wood now coated with a brittle bite that had him gasping back.

Kitsuo snarled, hackles rising along with the tips of her tails. She despised Frost spirits. They would nip at her nose, bounce around in her coat, and nibble her ears until they turned blue.

'Little scoundrels.' Tennu did not even raise her voice. Even then, the spirits stilled. 'I better not see you in my forest.'

Earth rumbled at her feet, shook the trees by their roots, and the spirits scampered, their laughter swiftly turning to yelps before they vanished with a pop!

Tennu pushed out her chest and blew. The air warmed, wind spread through the trees, branches hissed as ice evaporated from their tips, and then all settled just as quickly as it came. The human shivered in its wake.

'The Frost have left their bite on you,' said Tennu. She noticed then how tattered his clothes have become. He wore only a tunic and frayed trousers, a thin cotton robe thrown on top. 'They will be much worse than this whilst I take my Long Sleep.'

'Still I will stay, Spring Mother.'

And so he did.
    

★   ★   ★
        

It was not long before the rest of the forest had gone bare. Only the most stubborn of trees kept their most stubborn of leaves, only a splatter of evergreens gave the mountain more colour. Only Tennu's temple remained warm and verdant, caged in giant cypress, its walls hugged in flowering lilac vines.

Looking at it, one would never guess that beyond the towering cypress, the berries had lost its fruit, the rodents had buried themselves deep into the earth, and the birds had fled to warmer pockets of the land.

But indeed they had, and so did the human return one afternoon, his basket empty of forage, his net empty of fish, his quiver still full of its arrows.

He dropped to his knees before the temple doors. 'Forgive me, Spring Mother, but I could find nothing. Nothing.'

The goddess looked at her kanōhi, the kanōhi looked at their human. Both sighed.

'Never mind,' said the kanōhi, and by the time the human looked up, the fox had leapt into the trees, her white coat aglow in the moonlight, the black tips of her tails darting like nine coiled blades. Like a snow storm she sped down the slopes, between trees, to do what the human could not.

'If there remains anything to catch, Kitsuo will catch it,' said Tennu.

She withdrew into the temple—the human at her heels—making straight for her throne at the furthest wall. Hers was not a luxurious one, like the winged throne Amuset kept, cut deep into the trunk of a living bristlecone, large sapphires studded into its twisted branches. Nor was it austere, like the throne of thorns Ogbu sat upon, built entirely of granite and everlasting flames.

If there was a word to describe Tennu's throne, it was untamed. A wide seat of tangled root and moss, shaped by Earth himself from a giant cypress, branches fanning it like the curled tails of a dozen kanōhi. The rest of the tree stood guard behind the frame, merging into the temple rafters above them, draped by lilac vines that had crept in through the ceiling vents.

The human stopped at the foot of the wooden steps, but the goddess bade him closer.

'I have a gift for you.' She pulled from behind her throne a thick coat. 'The fox collar was Kitsuo's idea.'

The human bowed at her feet. 'You honour me, Tennu-hyang, that a mortal like me should receive a gift from you.'

'At least you should not die of cold during my Long Sleep. But Frost is not the only test of Winter. Wild game will only become scarcer. There will be days, weeks, where even Kitsuo would not be able to find hunt. But she is a deity's guardian, and she will not perish of starvation. I cannot say the same for a mortal.'

'I am no stranger to hunger, Spring Mother,' said the human. 'Still I will stay.'

So he did, and so did Tennu grow a little fonder.
   

★   ★   ★
            

Finally the time came for Tennu to take her Long Sleep. The days had grown shorter and shorter, for Sun hated the bitter Winter and could feel her approach, and in his absence the Wind spirits carried the cold breath of Frost even into the temple.

It was a grey afternoon when Tennu called Kitsuo and their human into the throne room. 'I am tired.'

The human helped lie her down across the throne. 'Shall I make you some tea, Tennu-hyang? Can I get you a blanket?'

'I have kept Earth nourished all year long. Now he will return the favour.'

He looked back towards the giant doors. 'Will he be here soon?'

Tennu smiled. 'He is already here.' She clasped her hands over her chest and closed her eyes. 'I hope to see you when Spring arrives.'

Kitsuo lowered herself on the thick roots of the throne and whimpered.

A great calm fell upon the room. Even Wind stopped her howling. The goddess drew a deep breath and never released it.

The ground groaned beneath them. Green and grey motes rose from the earth surrounding Tennu's throne, all glowing in low lights and pulsing warmth into the room. The human jumped back as they enveloped the deity, Kitsuo hopped off the dais entirely. The roots stirred around Tennu's throne, the branches behind stretched awake; the former coiled up to embrace her, the latter curled down until they caged the throne like a cocoon.

Then, with a great rumbling, Earth filled even the smallest gaps between the cocoon, working fast and loud until nothing left was seen of the Spring Mother; not a strand of her hair, not a thread of her robe.

A few more minutes passed where the human stood, transfixed, gazing upon Tennu's resting place. An overwhelming sadness washed over him, his eyes soon wet with tears. He wiped them with the back of his hand.

'You cannot feel her presence any more,' said Kitsuo. Even her voice had changed, somehow. 'That is why your heart grieves. But she is here.'

The human nodded, stifling his sobs. He turned to descend from the dais and froze at the sight before him.

Tennu stood at the foot of the steps, as radiant as she always was. 'Come.'

'Kit—Kitsuo-inu?'

She smiled, opened her arms, and he settled into her embrace. The sadness passed.

    
★ ★ ★
   

Plague came in small groups, which if not quickly extinguished and dispersed, would fuse into a flock strong enough to sweep across the land. And when Plague swept, Decay would rise from his sleep.

Down in the valleys they hunted, a pack of shadow-coyotes, feeding on the carcass of an unfortunate merchant and his crew.

Kitsuo watched from the top of the hill—though of course she wore the goddess's form—with the human crouching low beside her.

'You were right,' he said.

She gave an indignant sniff, popped her fox ears back in place of her human ones and gave them a twitch. 'Of course. I could hear them days away.'

'What should we do?'

'We do nothing. You remain here.' And with that she was off, nine tails sprouting behind her like goose down bursting from a pillow, propelling her forwards down the hill with the speed of a fierce squall.

As she reached them, her nails grew into claws, her teeth into fangs. She caught them like a strike of thunder, and they had no time to respond.

Shadow did not bleed, it seeped, and they leaked onto the grass with every bite, every scratch. Kitsuo sunk her fangs into a Plague's neck; it thrashed, howled, before slumping onto a heap and sinking deep into the ground. Another turned tail and ran, Kitsuo instantly on its heels. She leapt onto it, claws digging into fur and flesh.

Their cries echoed through the valley. When Kitsuo was done, the field was stained in black.

She turned to see the human hunched over a spot. Her eyes turned red. 'Fool!'

Wind blasted and the human was thrown back. When he collected himself, Kitsuo was standing over him, tails gone, ears fully human. 'I—I wanted to help.'

'Did you touch it?'

'No, but—' He pushed himself off the grass and felt it. Something thick and warm and sticky like the melted sap of a pine tree. He rose, looked down to see he had fallen into a pool of shadow-coyote.

Kitsuo grabbed him by the fox collar and took him back into their forest.

The shadow had crusted over his palms by then, like a dry layer of mud that could not be pried or washed off. They had to burn it away over a fire fuelled by old magnolia wood, and afterwards Kitsuo cleansed the burnt skin with a salve of aloe and honey.

'You did well.' She bandaged his hands and secured them into a knot.

The human winced, his entire face red and hot with sweat. His hair had grown long over the months, now they clung over his eyes and jawline.

'There is but one thing left you must do.'

He let her lead her deeper into the forest, higher into the mountain. Sun had long set, now Moon floated idly among Sky and the Stars. Together they lit the jagged path, dry foliage twirling down as they ascended up.

At last they saw a pocket of lily magnolia, their pink blooms stark on their naked branches; and in the midst of them hissed a pool so clear and blue, they could see the stone at its depths.

Kitsuo shed off her robe, stepped into the spring.

The human was too stunned to look away, but the steam masked her nakedness.

'Plague leaves behind an aura that can infect you if left unwashed. You must purify yourself.'

He nodded and took cover behind a tree before removing his clothes. Kitsuo's laughter only embarrassed him more, and by the time he stepped into the spring, his cheeks were already red and warm. He stayed at one end of the pool, but Kitsuo had other plans in mind. She waded closer and closer until she stood a breath from his face.

'Have you never seen an undressed woman before?' She held her hands against his hardened chest, turned him gently until the human stood with his back towards her. 'Even I have seen my share—women and men—and I am not even a human.'

She started to scrub, and he slowly started to ease. 'I—I suppose people would be less self-conscious in front of a fox.'

'Do I look like a fox?' Her voice was honeyed, and the human was intoxicated by the heat and fumes. 'Come. Do I not look just like her?'

The human gazed over his shoulder into her beech-grey eyes, her magnolia-pink lips, and lower still. 'You do.'

He took her into his arms, and there in the water and steam they soaked into each other. And so did the first month of Winter pass.
          

★ ★ ★

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