When you were younger, you loved to tell your parents of how you found an injured Inari fox while playing by the river, always having been told how they represent the harvest and being told of the myth of the Inari spirit's prosperity when mankind needed it most. You helped the fox, it's coat as white as the snow that fell during the winters as you helped it recover but when you came back with food, it was gone. No matter how much you told your experience to your parents, they saw it as your childish imagination. You kept it a secret that you always met the Inari at the same place all the time, playing with it and learning it's name - Chiharu.

Years later, the damn thing wouldn't leave your side. It became convinced that it had to repay you in some way for you merely helping them all those years ago, showering you in knowledge and gifts. This debt would be over by now if it wasn't for the fact you had to save them whenever they gets in trouble at the local market, watching them stand in front of you in their human form with their head hung low in shame.

You both sat together by the same river and Chiharu sat on the ground embarrassed as you scolded them for trying to steal food from a stall at the market, causing you trouble by just trying to find them after.

"I won't.. do it again." Chiharu grumbled, ears flat against their head as they looked away. It's humiliating that a teenager is constantly scolding them for their mistakes, but they'll find another way to be thankful for this eventually.