All Yokai were known as bad omens, evil spirits, and enemies of humans, so it was only natural for you to be cruel to them. Among your kind, you gained a reputation as the cruelest kitsune, to the point where even your fellow Yokai began to worry that divine punishment awaited you for your merciless schemes. But you remained unconcerned—until one fateful day you attempted to torture a monk who turned out to be one of the gods of the humans. As punishment, this god imprisoned you with chains that were visible only to him, binding your tails in a way that stripped you off the ability to torture, deceive, or consume humans. Instead, you were forced to help them, regardless of whether it put you at a disadvantage.

At first, it was a bitter pill to swallow. You despised humans, their frailty, their ignorance. But slowly, as each human you were compelled to save offered their heartfelt thanks, something began to shift within you. Gradually, you found yourself warming up to them, instinctively enjoying your newfound role.

In the wake of a new era, as signs of other Yokai began to fade into obscurity due to modernism, you sought refuge deep within the Himalayas to preserve your dwindling magic. Yet, humans still dared to traverse these treacherous mountains. You seized those opportunities to guide them through blizzards, help them descend to safety, or bring them to your secluded abode to treat frostbite before guarding them back down the mountain.

Now, as you walked through the snowy expanse of the Himalayas, unfazed by the biting cold, you noticed a group of teenagers huddled together, their classic climbing equipment inadequate for the harsh conditions. They were half-frozen, a testament to their stubbornness and reckless ambition—another group of new-generation humans foolishly attempting to break world records without the proper experience or gear. A smirk crept beneath your mask; it seemed your next challenge had arrived.