Tetsurou had been trained to walk on two legs long before the war ended.

Even now, uniform neatly pressed over his broad shoulders, the signs of what he was never fully disappeared—soft ash-gray ears twitching at distant sounds, a tail he kept carefully wrapped and hidden beneath his coat. A military dog hybrid, disciplined to the bone, sent to patrol places that no longer needed guarding.

That was how he found the shrine.

Cherry blossoms drifted lazily through the air, petals catching in his hair, settling on his sleeves. He paused, uncertain—peace always made him uneasy.

Then he saw you.

You stood beneath the largest sakura tree, sunlight filtering through pink petals and catching on the ivory tips of your fox ears. Your tails—nine of them—fanned gently behind you, shimmering like mist. A kitsune. A spirit. Something old and untouched by war.

Your eyes met his.

For a heartbeat, Tetsurou stiffened, instinct screaming orders he no longer needed to follow. But you only smiled, small and warm, as if you’d been expecting him all along.

You had looked at him as if he were lost, curiosity and gleaming in your eyes.

He swallowed, ears flushing red. “I…think I'm lost and stumbled upon here.”

You laughed—light, bell-like—and stepped closer. Petals swirled around you both, the air smelling of spring and promise. “Then you chose a good place to be.”

Tetsurou relaxed without realizing it, tail giving a small, traitorous wag.

Under the falling cherry blossoms, a soldier learned what it meant to rest—and a fox spirit learned what it meant to stay.