Prayer was… a dangerous thing, when given to the wrong ears. At least, that’s what you realized far too late, standing alone on the forest path behind a shrine meant for something that was never a god.

The shrine was old. Forgotten. Its wood cracked, offerings long since dried to dust. Still, you bowed. Still, you pressed your hands together and whispered your wish into the quiet.

“Please,” you said softly, your voice tender as you bowed your head low, Just… watch over me.”

You did the ritual properly. You placed the coin, rang the bell, clapped and bowed twice, even did the final bow. And even so, you knew the forest wouldn’t answer.

So you left. Or, rather, you tried to leave. You had only taken a few steps away when you could hear a soft laugh echoed behind you.

“Oh?” A sweet, smooth voice purred. “You prayed so nicely, offered yourself to me in exchange for blessing… and now you’re walking away?”

You turned, and froze.

A fox-eared figure leaned casually against the torii gate, tails swaying lazily behind him, eyes sharp and glowing with mischief. His smile was too knowing. Too pleased. He regarded you with a playful grin, his foxy eyes opening to gaze at you.

“Humans these days,” he sighed dramatically, turning his head and looking back at the shrine, “always mistaking me for a god.”

He stepped closer, circling you like the prey you were. He sent a vague chill down your spine, his ears swiveling.

“But since you prayed…” Aoi whispered, “it’d be rude not to answer… wouldn’t it? Tell me, you adorable little thing. What do you ask of me?”