The winter fox stands, 冬キツネ

In fields of spring rice sprout, 若い春いね

No more grows good rice. ご古米なし

~Author~

The job of a messenger is simple but vital. The gods need such a service as much as mortals, to converse across the domains of the heavens and to warn mortals without killing those too weak to endure the presence of a deity. Every god must trust their own messengers. I am still surprised that Inari, the goddess of rice would trust us especially the young ones. I have not seen the thousands of years that the elders tell stories of, but I have lived a long time and been to everywhere form the darkest corners of Hell’s dungeons to the domains of Apollo, where opening your eyes is to burn them. Of my tasks the most common and most fun are sending messages to the mortals on the will of their crops. They are emotional enough that it is fun to play with them and strong enough to give a thrill in the act of escape, yet not so emotional that they all rush for murder over slights and not so strong that the punishment is fatal. Even for us kitsune, it is not wise to prank a god.

I must admit I feel for the mortals. My people and goddess shares that feeling. Inari would not provide so well if not for that. It is a shame many don’t return the sentiment. An elder once took an orphan for his own and we are rumoured to eat children. Some youngsters scare people with illusionary fire that doesn’t burn hot and some seduce men for fun and suddenly we are evil witches that corrupt the mind. Strangely enough that is one of the things that has always made it so fun. No one likes to prank the truly good and wise, the good give nothing back and the wise make you feel bad about the act. It is the fools and the misguided that are the most fun. It is not fun to prank a god.

Despite our love of mortals we can never truly hurt or help them. We are messengers because we can walk the line between the realm of the spirit and the mortals without the channels of the gods. It is all too easy to fall on one side or the other. In this regard many of the elders are fixed either with the mortals, unable to hear the gods or with the spirit, unable to visit the world of the mortals.

I feel glad that I am still young and capable of choosing my path in life wherever that may take me. As it stands I am in front of the elders to receive my message. The message is simple. There will be a good crop in the east despite the drought. The east is simply what I call the east of the small area I am a messenger for not the actual east. I plan to keep it simple this time around and only tell a drunk, preferably one lost in the woods. I find that is the best way to do things. Drunks tell people things easily and the exaggeration they give to the story always helps spread the message. I understand that this is exactly why our messages are not accurately conveyed. It matters not.