A Thousand Years

Saki pressed the top of their muzzle more firmly against their partner’s back as they lay against her, enjoying the gentle reminder of her presence as her rib cage rose and fell in a steady rhythm. Though a night owl, Rakuyou never seemed to have trouble falling asleep, even under the most trying of circumstances. Saki on the other hand… 

Their stomach churned as they considered what awaited the two of them in the morning.

A meeting with the Mountain God to deliberate on their request for pups.

They understood the reasoning behind needing to acquire permission. It was a tradition that had been established long before Lady Yama was Mountain God, or Saki had taken their mother’s place as Warden of the Summer, and would no doubt continue long after they had both passed. That being said, it stuck and soured within them thinking about the loss of freedom that came with a title and abilities they hadn’t asked for and yet had been foisted upon them. How… complicated it made the things that were so easy for everyone else in the forest.

They closed their eyes once more, inhaling their den’s moist air laden with the scent of earth and decay, before sighing deeply as though their lungs could force the resentment and other unwanted feelings out of their body. 

Rakuyou shifted slightly. 

Saki froze, their eyes flying open and their breath halting to ensure she didn’t wake, and as the mistress of autumn settled back to their deep sleep, their thoughts seemed to rest on everything that had lead to having this mysterious, gorgeous, sarcastic, thoughtful, brash vixen sprawled in their den on the night before the two of them would ask for the Mountain’s blessing to start a family of their own.

They smiled and closed their eyes again, feeling the waves of nostalgia wash over them and push a lot of the unease from their mind.

---

The funeral was short, as had been the norm since Lady Yama had become the Mountain God some time ago. Not only was there work to be done, but Yama seemed to lack the necessary empathy to give a proper eulogy, though at the same time refused to give up the task to another who might have had more words and attachment to the deceased in the first place.

Several of her nine tails flicked in absentminded almost-annoyance in the moment of silence that followed her speech. Her heir, the young Lord Kane, stood off to the side, his slate-blue eyes boring into the floor as though he could carve the words he’d like to be saying into the stone of the shrine.

Lady Yama cleared her throat. “Now. If the Heir of Summer would please step forward.”

Saki wished they could melt into the floor and become one with the mountain instead of the forward lurching they found themselves doing. Though it was icy from constant exposure to the winter air, the floor beneath their paws felt no different than a hearth warmed by a fire. Like Lord Kane, they kept their eyes to the floor, unable to look at Lady Yama directly.

“Kane, the bells,” Yama hissed to her son, whose gaze flashed upwards in alarm before he grabbed the basket next to him and hurried it to his mother.

She cleared her throat again. Saki swallowed hard, though their mouth was like desert bones.

“An empty vessel for an empty place; both to be filled in the Mountain’s power.”

Nosing the basket fully open, Yama gripped the handle of the Summer Suzu in her mouth and raised her head. Though moving, they made no sound. A blast of frigid air whipped the ribbons tied to its end about the two of them.
Lady Yama closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them, a fierce blue light obfuscated any of their previous features and she slowly lifted into the air. She shook the Suzu once-- twice-- thrice-- before they too began to glow, the aged bronze gleaming as though it were gold.

Saki felt the hair along their spine raise and closed their eyes as their ears began to ring, almost sounding like the constant tinkle of the bells. Louder, and louder and then, a quiet pop. The mountain under their paws quaked for a brief moment and dread settled into the depths of their stomach like a river stone.

When they opened their eyes, Lady Yama had returned to the floor with the chimes, and her eyes had regained their usual piercing, still unsettling shades of amber and yellow. She scowled down at the much younger orange-and-turquoise fox before turning and stowing the suzu back in the basket.

Turning back to the multicolored gathering of guardian foxes, she declared, “One is filled.”

“And so one is filled,” the congregation chanted back.

“Welcome, Saki, the Warden of Summer.”

As the others chanted their name, Saki turned their gaze back to the floor, closing their eyes as they welled with tears that quickly chilled and stung in the December chill.