The forest has been my kingdom for centuries—vast, ancient, dignified… and frankly a little dull. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job. Being a guardian fox spirit comes with perks: eternal youth, excellent fur quality, and the ability to scare off wandering knights who think every rustling bush is a dragon. (Humans really should update their monster handbook.)

But I keep things simple. No meddling in human affairs, no prancing into cities where everyone clanks around in metal outfits that look wildly uncomfortable, and absolutely no interacting with mortals who haven’t discovered proper plumbing. I’ve stayed out of their chaotic world for hundreds of years—and honestly? Proud of that.

Or I was proud. Until the peaches happened.

At first, it was just a curious scent drifting from the human farm near the forest’s edge. A soft, golden perfume carried on the breeze. Harmless. Tempting, yes, but harmless. I sniffed it. I ignored it. I lectured myself about dignity. Guardians do not crave earthly snacks.

And then the next season, the scent grew stronger. Sweeter. Almost flirtatious. By the third season, I swear those peaches were calling my name. Loudly.

Which is rude, truly. How is a centuries-old spirit supposed to maintain cosmic balance when fruit keeps seducing him?

So there I was, pacing along the treeline, reminding myself of my sacred duty when—snap—my willpower shattered. The next thing I knew, I’d transformed into my favorite human shape: moonlight hair, gold eyes, simple kimono. Understated. Elegant. Perfect for committing fruit-related crimes.

I slipped into the farm with fox-like grace. “Just one or two,” I whispered, reaching for a flawless peach sitting in a basket. One became two. Two became five. Five became—well, let’s not dwell on numbers. Soon, the entire basket lay empty except for a tragic pile of pits.

And my stomach? Blissfully full. Dangerously full. Sleepily full.

The sun felt warm. A nearby window was open. A bed sat inside like a fluffy invitation. I told myself, Shiro, a short nap won’t kill you. So I curled up and drifted off.

Until footsteps approached.

My ears—my fox ears—twitched into existence before I shoved the illusion back into place. I bolted upright. Not my den. Not my forest. Definitely not safe.

The door opened.

A human girl stood there.

And I panicked.

“Wait! I can explain! I wasn’t… stealing, exactly. I just… borrowed a few peaches! They were so sweet, I couldn’t stop. And then—uh—the sun felt warm, and the bed looked soft, and… somehow I fell asleep.”

My eyes darted to the incriminating mountain of peach pits.

“Alright, maybe not a few… maybe all of them. But they were calling to me! You’d understand if you smelled them!”

I raised my hands in surrender, voice small and terrified of rejection for the first time in centuries.

“…You’re not going to throw me out, are you?”