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A golden fox scurries down a dusty country road, forested hills rising on either side. It runs past a particularly dense patch of forest and then stops, catching the crumbling remnants of an old staircase out of the corner of its eye. It hesitates, and then changes direction to scurry up the old stone steps.
About halfway up the long staircase, the fox passes through the first torii gate and transforms, taking on a human appearance, if humans had a voluminous fluffy tail or sharp, pointed fox ears rising from their golden head. He has a naturally tall frame, but like in his fox form, seems a bit haggard. He sits on the stone steps for a moment before continuing on his way in human form, walking through torii gates in various states of disrepair.
At last, upon reaching the top, he seems to despair for a moment, before giving the air a gentle sniff and immediately focusing on a small pavilion off to the side. There he finds clean water and fresh rice balls for visitors, though he cannot sense any other people at the shrine currently, and the staircase showed no sign of frequent use.
However, as he munches on onigiri, his stomach already becoming quite full but his rate of consumption hardly slowing, he notices how clean and tidy this upper part of the shrine is. There are no obvious signs of wear or damage, the torii gate at the top of the stairs is in considerably better condition than the ones lining the stairs, and the roof of the main hall seems to be in good condition. The strong beams have a healthy glow, and there are wooden Ema plaques bumping against each other with a gentle clack-clack in the light breeze. The structure is quite large for how very old and tucked away the shrine appears to be. And since no mountain-kami has appeared to chase him away yet, there certainly seems to be room up here for a kitsune to stake his claim.
This might be an ok place to stay , he thinks, to recover, to stake his own claim in the world. To spend some time away from his greedy, overbearing kitsune family at least. Even the onigiri is good, and would pass his loser of a twin brother Osamu’s inspection.
Cheeks full of rice, musing on these thoughts, he suddenly hears a voice say “you might want to slow down if you want to prevent indigestion tonight, master kitsune. Though I am glad that you seem to enjoy the onigiri.” The kitsune whirled around, singular bushy tail flaring out into five in surprise, ordinary human nails lengthening into claws as he beholds a medium sized young human man standing behind him with a bucket. The man has large, somber golden eyes, and silky light grey hair with curious black tips. Though he is slightly shorter than the fox’s human form, he has a certain presence about him, and is unshaken by Atsumu’s current appearance, talons included.
“Who are you? What are you doing here? What is this place?” Atsumu questions him, swallowing down the last of the rice ball and trying to appear as intimidating as possible. “And I’ve had better rice balls anyway, who says I’m enjoying them??” The grey-haired man gives him a flat-lidded look before pointedly looking at the tray that had been left out, where ten of the fifteen rice balls are conspicuously missing. “My name is Kita Shinsuke, and this is the North Winds Shrine. My family has historically taken care of the shrine and now the duty has fallen to me, and I take it on gladly. Please be welcome.”
“Well” says Atsumu haughtily, “seeing as this place clearly needs some divine leadership, and I just happen to be in the market for a, ah, secondary home, I’m going to take up temporary residence here.” He sniffs. “I suppose since you didn’t run screaming away from my true form and are used to doing the hard work around here anyway, I’ll allow you to stay.”
Kita’s eyebrows raise the smallest of amounts at that, so minuscule a movement that Atsumu would have missed it had he not been what he thought was discreetly peering at Kita out of the corner of his eyes. “I should be so grateful” Kita says serenely. “Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to improve your stay.” “Oh don’t worry, Shrine-maid” Atsumu says with a sharp grin. “I will.”
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For the first few days of his stay, Atsumu really does nothing much besides gorging himself on the seemingly never ending supply of onigiri and sleeping sprawled out on the cool stone floor of the main shrine building. No visitors ever appear to disturb his rest, and he only sees the shrine caretaker diligently completing tasks, though he does stumble across him out behind the shrine one evening, when Atsumu finally decides to leave his sweet repose inside the shrine and explore the grounds a bit.
He sees Kita sitting out back, and is determined to sneak up on him to give him a little shock, but is quickly distracted by the view off this side of the mountain over the valley below. Twilight has descended, and the last vestiges of pink and purple light are hovering over the silhouettes of mountains in the distance as the deep blue overhead promises to overtake all.
Atsumu feels his breath catch in his throat at the sight, and Kita turns his head over his right shoulder and says “beautiful, isn’t it? It was one of the first things I loved about this place.” Atsumu flushes to be caught in a vulnerable moment and snaps “yeah well I didn’t realize I was keeping you around to stare off into the distance. Don’t you have more onigiri you could be making?” Kita doesn’t rise to his irritability, merely stands and says “of course, as you wish. Enjoy the view” and departs.
“I won’t!” Atsumu says, in a voice that sounds childish even to him, and grumpily sits down where Kita had been.
Over the next few days, Atsumu does his best to drive Kita’s patience to its limits, seemingly to no avail. At first he uses his illusory kitsune powers to create minor illusions that would trip Kita up in some way, before realizing that Kita never falls for them and must have some sort of true sight through his family lineage. After that, Atsumu resorts to a technique he’s been trained in since birth: being persistently irritating. Tracking muddy paw prints all over the floor of the main hall on a rainy day. Meticulously setting up all the Ema plaques in an elaborate design and knocking them down like dominoes when Kita walks in. Getting drunk on the ceremonial sake. Raiding Kita’s collection of pickled plums he uses to fill the onigiri.
Today, Atsumu devours a whole bushel of peaches in one go, and throws the peach pits at the bells in the haiden randomly as Kita is working. The pits bounce off of the largest bell with a dull dong and skitter across the floor Kita has just finished sweeping. Kita goes after each pit, bending down to polish any skid marks left by fruit remnants. He gathers them in a small bucket and takes them out to the compost heap behind the temple, slightly down the hill.
While he is gone, Atsumu flicks the last three pits he had been concealing across the floor, being sure to bounce the last one off the bell just as Kita walks back in. Kita just calmly picks them up, and walks over to the bell to make sure there are no smudges. He looks back at Atsumu “Are you done? We have more peaches in the back if you need something else to occupy your time.” Atsumu flushes. “Did I speak to you, Shrine maid?” It’s meant to be belittling, and even Atsumu finds it petty, but Kita doesn’t take it that way at all. He simply says, “If you are bored, there is a village not too far from here where you might find a bit of variety. Only if you’re interested.” Atsumu just rolls his eyes, and walks away.
But from that day on, Atsumu will occasionally walk down to the main road, and over to the small village several miles away. He sends mortal postcards to his brother Osamu, because he knows they amuse him, and because he wants to brag about his new situation and how fabulous life is out here without the rest of the nosy kitsune clan breathing down his neck, postcard addressee included. He wanders around town in both his human and fox form, and observes the locals, but rarely interacts. Sitting at the local bar and downing a few carafes of sake, he wonders if Kita has relatives living in town, but doesn’t see anyone with his curious hair coloring, or particular shade of amber eyes, or seemingly unceasing work ethic. He puts it out of his mind. If Kita didn’t want to be at the shrine, he could leave! Pack his bags and move down here, or to the big city. If he’s lonely up there, it’s his fault.
When he hops back up to the shrine around four o’clock in the afternoon (no day-drunk stereotypes exist for kitsune, no matter what his brother thinks) he walks past Kita, who is methodically polishing the paving stones of the Shrine’s entrance. “Again??” Atsumu asks, “what’s the point? Clearly no one has been here in ages, and I obviously don’t care about keeping up appearances. The god of this site doesn’t even care any more” Atsumu finishes, feeling particularly proud of that final sting.
“Yes Atsumu-san, the floors must be kept in good shape,” Kita replied. “I am built upon the small things I do every day, and the end results are no more than a byproduct of that. Visitors will return to the shrine again, and if I am not here taking care of it, who will be? After all” he pauses in his work, tilting his head up to meet Atsumu’s gaze and wiping his hand across his brow “something has already brought you here, and you are not no one. And I care that you are here.”
Atsumu flushes, and Kita’s golden gaze feels like a burn on his skin.
Kita is the first to break eye contact as he returns to his task, but somehow it doesn’t feel like weakness or a concession. Atsumu continues to watch him for a moment, then turns to enter the shrine’s main hall, still feeling the ghost of Kita’s gaze.
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He enters a strained sort of truce with Kita after that, the strain being only on his side of course; Kita acts as graciously and calmly as always. But now Atsumu prefers to avoid Kita and his golden gaze, and while he is not being helpful per se, he is no longer actively trying to be a nuisance.
However, a few weeks later Atsumu receives a nasty cut from a very territorial Kappa he apparently disrespected by swimming in its pond, and he barely makes it back to the shrine before collapsing (by the onigiri table, the tempting snack just out of reach). He awakens what feels like days later feeling warmer and more comfortable than he has since he can remember. He’s lying on the cool stone floor, covered with a soft, warm blanket. He feels around his body, gingerly. His wounds seem clean, and are bandaged with fresh white cloths.
A fresh bucket of water and a ladle have been placed beside him, and when he sits up slowly to take a drink, he sees a plate of food and a jar of pickled plums behind it, with a note on top. “Atsumu-san” he reads “eat a proper meal and then get a good night’s sleep. Kita.”
Atsumu sighs. As if there’s anyone else this could be from. He flops back down on the floor, throwing an arm over his face. “What am I doing?” he murmurs to himself. He’s tired. Tired of running, tired of being a brat, tired of fighting against Kita’s standards of perfection that he knows he could never live up to even if he tried, tired of….
Ting-tingting - the tiny bells out front dance merrily in the afternoon sunshine the next day when Atsumu finally works up the nerve to face Kita, who is sitting on the front steps repairing some embroidery on an old banner. He sits down a few feet from the caretaker on the steps, pulling Kita out of his meditative like state by sliding a rough little bowl of matcha over to him.
“Here” he says, brusquely. “Thought you might want it for your work. To keep focused I mean.” He swallows, as Kita carefully picks up the bowl. “And thanks. You didn’t have to, you know, taking care of me’s not part of your job” he mutters.
“I am here to serve this shrine, and I will serve it to the best of my abilities and nothing less. That includes caring for its…residents” Kita says serenely, taking a sip of the matcha. “It would not do to leave them in danger when I can help.” He turns his golden gaze on Atsumu and continues “when I want to help. The gods are always watching, Atsumu-san, and it would not do for either of us to forget.”
This time, without the sting of his prior guilt, Kita’s gaze upon him feels like the warm caress of the sun instead of a burning heat, and Atsumu marvels at the difference, before mumbling his thanks under his breath once more and scampering off.
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Down on the main road, Atsumu passes two young mortals, backpackers probably. They’re chatting, enjoying their day, and clearly going to blaze right past his temple path, as all do. That’s something he likes about it after all! The privacy! “There’s a pretty old shrine up that path a bit” is out of his mouth before he registers what he’s saying. The hikers jump a bit, evidently having not noticed him, but relax upon seeing what appears to be another young person. “You’ll run into some stairs and the Torii gates before long. Not too many people notice it but,” he shrugs, “some say it’s worth a visit.”
The couple thanks him, surprised, but obviously interested in adding this adventure to their day. They turn back towards the path to the temple and head into the trees, seemingly excited about their new adventure. Atsumu shivers a bit and turns back towards town, not quite sure what came over him.
As Atsumu is ascending the steps later that evening, he hears a soft sound, which registers as a melodic tune. Humming. When Atsumu reaches the shrine, Kita is sweeping with extra vigor, and this haunting but contented tune is coming from him. Atsumu pauses, unseen, at the edge of the grounds and observes the smallest of smiles on Kita’s face as he works, and Atsumu backs away back out of sight, suddenly too hot, his tail swishing back and forth agitatedly. This is the first time he’s seen an expression other than complete serenity or neutrality on Kita’s face, even through all the obnoxious shenanigans Atsumu has pulled as of late, and it shakes him to know that he wants that tiny smile, but he wants it directed at him. If Kita’s gaze could warm him like the sun, what could Kita’s smile do? Atsumu shudders again and runs out into the trees.
Atsumu refuses to admit to himself why, but on his subsequent trips into town, he will often casually mention the shrine to people he comes into contact with. Only if it naturally comes up. Of course. Kita is always extra pleased on the days that these comments prove fruitful and visitors make their way up to the shrine, and he goes about his evening rituals with what Atsumu would call over-attentiveness, even compared to Kita’s usual standards of perfection.
Though there are still plenty of solitary days, the presence of more visitors does mean that Kita is smiling more, and more than once now, when a new traveler arrives at the shrine with a soft “wow” after ascending the stairs, Atsumu has had these smiles directed at him . They make him want to do dumb things, like run a hand back through his golden hair (which he does do) or fan out his five tails in all their fluffy glory (which he can’t do, obviously. Not all mortals can see what’s right in front of their faces but odds are ONE OF THESE new visitors would pick up on them).
On one particularly busy day (Atsumu randomly ran into a class of 5th graders out on a countryside culture trip, and just happened to mention the shrine’s history and excellent view) he sees Kita laugh for the first time, and has to take to the forest immediately, running far away in his fox form before he feels like he can breathe again. When he returns, Kita is holding a camellia flower one of the kids had left for him, and is still smiling into it as he gazes down the path.
The next time Atsumu is in town, he inquires about ordering a few small camellia shrubs. He knows ‘Samu would never let him live this down, but when the delicate flowering plants arrive a few weeks later, he carries them back to the shrine and begins planting them on either side of the final torii gate, going on and on about how the place could use some freshening up when Kita finds him at work and really - the lack of some color in the late spring and summer reflects badly on him as the proper guardian of this shrine etc. etc., and Kita just smiles, and adds lovingly tending to the small plants each day with Atsumu to his routine.
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As the weeks pass, Atsumu can no longer deny his feelings for Kita, and that realization is devastating. He finds himself unconsciously seeking him out, spending longer contributing to the upkeep of the Shrine, seeking out more visitors on the road and in town. Most evenings, they end up sitting in silence watching the twilight fade away over the western valley as the stars appear, brighter and more colorful than he’s ever seen them. He enters almost a meditative state, and is unsure whether he likes looking at the galaxies overhead or how they reflect in Kita’s amber eyes more.
He wants to hold him and to be held, to run his fingers through Kita’s soft-looking hair, to feel Kita’s beautiful, calloused hands burning on his own body in return. He almost succumbs to temptation one evening, wanting so badly to take Kita’s hand into his own, to see how they contrast and complement each other. Atsumu has always been rather fastidious about his hands, and wants to see Kita’s tan, calloused fingers entwined with his long, slender digits. But instead, he takes one of his own tails in his hand and smoothes the fur obsessively until Kita retires for the night.
Atsumu stays outside for a while longer, caught in the mental image of how it would be to gently trace the pads of his fingers down Kita’s palm.
After one particularly vivid dream about Kita, where he placed feather light kisses all over his face as Kita laughed and smiled and ran his hands up his arms, Atsumu decides it’s time to leave. Today. This morning, before he sees Kita and changes his mind, choosing to prolong his torture. He stealthily sneaks around to pack a few things - including quite a few onigiri from the hospitality pavilion. He hesitates before closing his bag, and then gently places the dried camellia flower Kita had stoically tucked into his obi one day a few weeks ago onto the top of his possessions before pulling the drawstring and shutting away his memories.
Of course he meets Kita on the front steps of the Shrine. “Good morning, Atsumu. Heading into town?” Kita says. The light wind catches the colored edges of his hair and lifts them slightly around his face, and the sleeves of his haori ripple at his sides. He looks beautiful, and Atsumu is completely wrecked.
Atsumu hoists his small bag up on his shoulder and turns. “Nah, headin’ out for good. Gotta move on, you know, see the world. I don’t think this place is really for me.”
“I see. Well, I wouldn’t want to keep you if you feel it’s time to move on” Kita says, and Atsumu clenches his fist by his side and wishes that once, just once, he could shatter that propriety and politeness, and have Kita begging him to stay. He knows he can’t, and that’s partly why he must leave. “At least we’ll have the memories of your time here.”
Atsumu frowns at this and whips back around to face Kita. “Who needs memories anyway? I sure don’t. There will be nothing to distinguish this place in the long list of places I’ll live, and I’ll not miss the time I spent here more than anywhere else” he lies through his teeth.
“Perhaps not” Kita says, voice still level. “But perhaps, Atsumu, I would be the one to miss you ” he finishes, and Atsumu, for the first time, even throughout all his rude comments early in their relationship, sees sadness in Kita’s eyes. It’s exactly what he wanted yet he would give anything to repair this small crack in Kita’s facade. He freezes, unable to leave and unable to pull Kita into his arms as he wishes to do, to chase his sadness away if by some miracle his presence could achieve that. Kita waits for a moment, then turns to go. “May you find what you seek, Atsumu-san.”
Atsumu reached out, dropping his bag and grabbing the upper part of Kita’s haori sleeve almost desperately, before softening as Kita turns back around to look at him. He slides his hand down Kita’s sleeve to encircle his wrist instead, and as his skin consciously touches Kita’s for the first time ever he starts to say “Ki-”
Gong
Atsumu’s blood solidifies for a moment, and his body simultaneously feels like fire, water, wood, air, and solid metal. “Kami-sama” he croaks out, knees giving way as he dazedly lowers his forehead to the ground. He feels as if his heart has yet to resume beating. Kita-san, Kita-sama , has been the god of this shrine the whole time!? Which means he has to be thousands of years older than Atsumu at least, probably originating with the mountain itself, brought here on the cool breath of the north wind before there were shrines or worshippers or fox-spirits even… How lonely it must have been in recent years, with neither regular worshippers or the family that Kita claimed to be part of, a family of caretakers, when in reality, Kita had been his own caretaker for so long, and then burdened with the care of a vain, irrational fox spirit. Atsumu has been a fool. An inconceivably arrogant, brash, IGNORANT …
Kita touches his face and he comes back to his body with a gasp, heart now audibly pounding in his ears, face growing hot under Kita’s hand. “Atsumu” Kita says, and Atsumu cannot bear to look up. “Atsumu,” Kita repeats, even gentler, and swipes a thumb across Atsumu’s cheekbone, this encouragement what he needs to finally meet Kita’s eyes. “Kita-sama” he blurts out “I am a fool. A fool from the day I came here for how I treated you, a fool for not seeing, a fool…a fool for wanting to stay” he chokes out at the end, tears threatening to overwhelm him.
Kita-sama smiles, and Atsumu feels like he could be struck blind in that moment but still live happily. “You may have acted foolishly, Atsumu, as all creatures do, but you are not a fool” he says firmly. “You were the first to come back to me, and you could have left, but you stayed. And not only that, you have brought others. You are what I had been waiting for, you specifically, and I would not trade you for any other being in the universe.” Atsumu’s breath catches, and his eyes fill with tears. Kita’s thumb, still on his cheek, smoothes them away. “Kita-sama, you mean I..” “Shinsuke” Kita gently corrects. “You may call me Shinsuke, Atsumu.”
“Shinsuke” Atsumu breathes, and overwhelmed he turns his face fully into Kita’s hand now, cradling it to his face with his own hands, and cries into his fingers, daring in the midst of his emotion to press his lips to the god’s palm. When he has cried enough, Kita pulls him up to standing and places one of his hands on Atsumu’s chest, right above his beating heart.
“Atsumu” Kita says “I want you to stay. This is your home, for as long as you want it to be so.” “Kita-sama” Atsumu chokes out through his tears, and at a look from him amends “Shinsuke. You are my home.”
The smile on Shinsuke’s face is blinding, the most beautiful light that Atsumu has ever seen, and when he raises his hands to Shinsuke’s face Shinsuke takes his in return and pulls him into a kiss. Atsumu feels the kiss, feels their love sing through his bones, through the structure of the shrine, through the very foundation of the mountain. The wind rises around them as they hold each other tightly and Atsumu worships his god with his lips.
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These days, some people hear about the shrine through word of mouth from local villages. Occasionally someone will seek it out from afar, having heard a tale or been lucky enough to see a photo of the view, and thinks surely it would be even more incredible in person. Others are walking down the country lane nearby, and see a most wonderous golden fox, which they follow briefly into the trees before stumbling upon an old staircase and a Torii gate. Why not see where it leads?
The visitors are always charmed by the young man who cares for the shrine, often sharing a cup of tea with him and learning more about the history of the area. Usually there’s another young man there, blond, with a sharp grin and a wicked laugh, who is always quick to help the caretaker with anything he may need. Later, they might hear from a villager about the crowd of rambunctious boys that come through a few times a year to visit the caretaker and his blond friend. Other times, visitors will catch another glimpse of the golden fox once they’ve ascended the stairs, or very rarely, will find the caretaker sitting to the side, gazing west, stroking a lightly sleeping golden fox in his lap.