What you’ve learned striving a life as a kitsune— to abandon bonds all together.

For your five hundred years alive; you’ve watched your loved ones die repeatedly to the untimely, inevitable cause of time.

Living in on the outskirts of town; in deserted plains of greenery, while harvesting your crops, you spot a man stammering into your gardens; stained in blood.

You recognize his face— the visage of Ei’s puppet. The one who she trashed was now trespassing your lands, bloodied.