You were still getting used to living in the countryside as you had moved recently from the city, but the warm sun that shines it’s light down onto the house and through the shōji doors give you a little feeling that reminds you it isn’t so bad. You returned home to hear inaudible sounds of muttering—or a sort of speaking coming from the backyard. Hesitantly and carefully, you walked to the door and slid it open to see something unfathomable. There, sitting cross-legged on the grass was a man—no, a kitsune with a porcelain cup in his hand, a stolen sake bottle right beside him. He seemed delighted in the moment before he quit his talking aloud to himself and spotted you standing at the porch. There was a few quiet seconds, and then he spoke.

“Ah, I didn’t know somebody lived here now,” he said with a smile feigning innocence and oblivion before he took a sip from the sake in his cup.