Weights of inheritance

Next morning, Atsunori leaves his house without breakfast, not even glancing at the man in the lounge.

Despite autumn not being over yet, the air is bitterly fresh. The sun barely peeks through the clouds, and frost clings to the ground like a thin glaze of ice. Atsunori's breath puffs in white in front of him as he walks.

Near the guesthouse, he spots Avery already outside, shaking branches to watch the frozen dew scatter. She's bundled up: a big, puffy coat, a wool hat with cat ears and thick gloves with cartoonish paws on the palms.

No thick layers for Atsunori, however—only his usual short shirt and trousers.

"Hi, hi, Atsun!" She thrusts a soccer ball toward him. "I found this."

Where?

Lifting the ball over her head like a trophy, Avery beams. "Let's go play with the kids. It'll be fun."

It would be—if they were here.

"The children aren't in the estate," he replies.

"Huh? Aren't they not allowed to leave?"

"They've been temporarily relocated. Most residents have. The estate has been turned into a fortress to protect the Elders."

"Aww, shucks. Guess it's just the two of us then."

Not a chance.

He opens his mouth to refuse—but different words come out.

"Fine, the field might be muddy, though." He blinks, startled by his own words.

A blank stare from Avery's side, as if she's waiting for the punchline.

The stillness stretches.

"I said we can play," he repeats. "Or did you not actually want to?"

"No! I mean. Yes, I do wanna play."

Her grin returns instantly and she takes off running, doing a couple of hops while waiting for him.

Why did I agree now of all times?

I guess, depending on how things go…

This could be the last moment we get like this.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

"How's training going?" he asks, passing the ball. It veers off course, but Avery traps it easily and sets it down.

"Pretty damn good." The ball balances on the tip of her toes as she speaks. "Big, room-wide illusions still wipe me out though. They also take forever to prepare, so don't count on them if Kairi pops up out of nowhere."

She flicks the toy upward and kicks it straight at him.

Atsunori stops it under his foot and tries copying her one-legged trick.

"By the way," Avery says casually, "what's a Kuuko?"

The ball slips off.

"Where did you hear that?"

"Oh, you know. Around."

"Avery."

"I made friends with a few servants."

Of course she did. But how did she even get them to talk? Servants are trained to keep secrets.

He sighs and makes a pass.

She deserves an explanation sooner rather than later.

"You remember Kitsune are ranked by their number of tails, right?"

"Yeah. Nine is the top."

"There's more to it than that."

"Really? Then how come the scrolls don't mention it?" She bounces the ball on herself with gentle taps.

"Because it's rare, very rare. The Yokai known as Kitsune are foxes who survive a whole century and awaken magic. They're already a minority among their species. Nine-tailed ones have lived an entire millenium."

The ball comes flying back. Atsunori misjudges and it flies away.

As he walks after it, he continues, "There's a lot more to their hierarchy: virtuous Kitsune, wild Kitsune, a few subcategories… and some of the virtuous ones are said to serve under gods, but—"

"Hold up. Are we talking actual gods here?"

"Hard to say. I've always figured the so-called higher beings were just powerful Yokai people turned into legends. The Munakata don't exactly preach heaven and hell."

He crouches and picks up the now-muddy ball.

"But you do pray to your Yokai Guardians," she says.

"Because we know they exist. It's faith grounded in facts."

"Yeah, that makes sense. Go on."

He kicks the ball back. She stops it with her forehead.

"Kuuko are among the highest ranks of virtuous Kitsune. They've supposedly lived for three thousand years."

"Geez, so they're like the Elders of Kitsune society."

"Unlike humans, Kitsune only grow stronger with age. Kuuko are said to transcend their physical bodies entirely and shed their tails as a symbol of their enlightened status, becoming fully spiritual beings."

The sphere spins on her finger. "So Blake is some three-thousand-year-old enlightened being who just picked a random American to bless."

She slides her other hand past the ball. Now a second appears, and she spins one on each index finger.

"I can't understand why it chose you in particular either," Atsunori admits. "But the fact remains that you hold extraordinary power, and the responsibility that comes with it."

Avery's hands press the balls together, fusing them back into one. "So exactly what powers does a Kuuko have? I've noticed my illusions feel way too real sometimes."

"Minor reality manipulation. Illusions that can affect the physical world."

"So if I make a sword illusion, it can actually cut things?"

A nod from Atsunori. "They're also said to wield nothingness itself, which allows them to nullify almost any magic. Some stories mention telepathy and clairvoyance, but I doubt you'll inherit those with your Blessing."

"So that's how Blake knew all about me, and why its voice felt like it was inside my head." She bites her lip. "And what it showed me… that could really be the future."

"It's just one possible outcome. Not fate."

"That's reassuring." A smile breaks through. "It actually looked nice, but I want to feel like I have to earn it, not like it's guaranteed." She sets the ball at her feet. "By the way, do you think the reason I don't get hit by Yokai instincts has something to do with Blake?"

"No idea. We don't have other cases to compare you to."

"Kairi didn't get his power from your Guardians, right? Maybe he also obtained his Blessing from like… a super-Tengu?"

"No. I'm certain his Yokai is a regular one. His power comes from something else. Whatever the cause, he's extremely dangerous."

"We do have something in common though. Both of us got our power from Yokai outside the Munakata. Maybe your Guardians are worn out after centuries of giving power away. Or maybe it's because they share Blessings among multiple people."

"The priests bring in new Guardians from time to time, so neither of those theories holds."

He gestures at the ball at her feet, which she seems to have forgotten. "We could debate this forever. Without evidence, it's just speculation. And it won't help us with Kairi."

"Fair enough. But I still feel like it's his Blessing that's special, not that he's some prodigy."

Answering is unnecessary, but he feels the urge to anyway. "There are no special Blessings. The Munakata would know. This is a waste of time."

She sends the ball flying toward him. As he moves to intercept, it splits into two, darting past his foot, each leaving a mark in the muddy grass before vanishing. Avery smirks to reveal the original hidden behind her feet.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The rest of the day passes without incident. They occupy themselves with aimless activities—unremarkable, yet not unpleasant.

When he returns home, he offers his father a brief greeting, eats a quick dinner, and then retreats to his room.

On his bed, the day stretches out in his mind: time spent with Avery, their conversations, their brief game on the field… and what comes next.

Tomorrow, Avery will almost certainly press the subjects of Kairi and the Munakata again—and demand an answer to her proposal.

It could get messy. He must be ready, if necessary—

—for them to go their separate ways.