When Fox Is A Thousand
Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon.
The time has come. I can feel it in my very soul and all the way down to my weary bones.
Tonight is the night that I shall perish. I am, exactly, one thousand years old.
I feel no fear towards my impending death. I have lived a long, fruitful life. I have taken mates and born many kits whom have grown, evolved, and passed on my knowledge to their own children.
I, thankfully, have surprisingly few regrets for having lived as long as I have. None of them come to mind now. No, not now. Now is not the time.
I struggle to rise, my aged body aching. I have grown gaunt. I am nearly blind. I have grown half deaf. My once sharp sense of smell has dulled considerably over the last hundred years. Even my once shimmering, pale golden fur that is so coveted and admired by humans has become thin and patchy, and my teeth are broken and worn.
Such are the ravages of old age. We ninetales are long lived, yes, but still mortal creatures made of flesh and blood and thus are subject to the inevitable destruction that the cruel march of time brings.
Even we are not eternal.
I have laid beneath the temple's dilapidated roof on the front porch for many days, feeling my once great powers wane as my senses grow ever duller.
Growing old is such unpleasant business.
I give up and lie my head back down on my paws. I am too weary to sit upon my haunches and appear regal, my multiple tails flared out behind me like the vulpix and ninetails statues that adorn this temple. These silent stone guardians are my only companions these days. Other pokemon seem to avoid this place, as if not wishing to violate its sanctity.
For the past three centuries, this old temple has been my home. To my amusement, my arrival was seen as a sort of divine boon when this temple was occupied, and I was left food and offerings by the den I'd chosen in the mountains. When the humans abandoned it, it became my home, and my sanctuary.
I readily enough took the food, but the offerings of flowers and candles I ignored, as well as the sake that was offered to me. What use would one such as I have for such things? We pokemon do not drink human concoctions. At least, no pokemon that I am aware of, do.
Humans are such a strange, superstitious lot.
There are many myths and legends about my kind. It is said that our origin was when nine mad saints all sacrificed themselves by leaping into a massive bonfire one by one. When the fire had burned down to cold ashes and the smoke had cleared, it is said that the first of our kind emerged, shining and magnificent with nine proud tails trailing behind her.
It is a foolish story. I, personally, do not believe it to be true.
It is rumored that we are able to shapeshift. Well...no, that is not precisely true either. What we can do, however, is create rather convincing illusions. During my far younger days, I was not above leading young men off the path and getting them lost by projecting the apparition of an attractive woman in a kimono. And of course, there is our ability to create will 'o wisps and manipulate them with our psychic energy to hypnotize the unwary.
Of course, I never led them too far astray. I just had a little fun at their expense, nothing else. Most of us wouldn't be so malicious as to cause death or harm to humans.
Unless we felt they were deserving, of course. I did lay a few curses in my time, and a few humans sought me out to seek revenge on a cheating spouse or payback for a business deal gone bad. Oh, it was great fun to hang around a human's dwelling and watch them do a summoning ritual for a fox spirit, and I would "appear" to them as a projection in the form of a beautiful maiden with a single fox tail and we'd strike a bargain.
That part about us having a vindictive streak is true. I enjoyed meting out my own brand of justice to especially vile, detestable humans because they generally had it coming.
I am a great believer in karma. As my psychic abilities grew and developed, I was able to cause all kinds of mischief. Once, I gleefully brought misfortune to a husband who beat his wife. She prayed to Inari, and, taking pity on her, I answered her prayers. She was overjoyed and surprised to see me. I "spoke" to her through an illusion, and I promised to make things right for her. Her husband was a powerful figure in the village, and thus she herself had no power against him.
It was one of my finer feats of trickery, if I do say so myself. And it was wonderfully satisfying to wreak vengeance on her cruel husband. I called on gastly, haunter, and gengar to give him nightmares that he would not soon forget; twisted horrors and fever dreams that haunted him for seven days and seven nights.
Afterwards, he was left a broken shell of a man. His black hair had turned solid white. He jabbered nonsensically about ghosts and demons coming to visit him in the night, and the villagers said that it must have been punishment for his evil deeds; otherwise, why would he experience such visitations?
Of course, the man was shut away for the rest of his days, and the wife became a prosperous businesswoman.
For many years after that, I traveled. I went from forest to forest, and village to village, always spying on the humans in my idle curiosity. And if I was discovered...well, I didn't always receive a warm welcome, given our reputation for trickery. I even encountered others of my kind, and I would see my likeness carved in stone in shrines and temples. Depending upon whom you asked, we ninetails were either revered or condemned, deified or demonized.
I allowed myself to be captured, once, in what was a somewhat primitive version of what is now called a "pokeball." A young man pursued me high in the mountains, enthralled by my beauty and grace, and of course, I'm sure he wanted a strong battler.
He had a round, kind face so I decided to give him a merry chase, allowing him to get the occasional glimpse of my shining form from time to time so that he did not become discouraged and give up; after all it was such a fun game for me.
After weeks, I was finally captured, and just like that, I became a tame pokemon. Though I did not know it at the time, it turns out that I was to be a gift for an empress, and this man was eager to curry favor with her, since I was her favorite pokemon, and she had long yearned to own one such as I. Being that fire stones were far more scarce than they are in this day and age, I, of course, presented a rare opportunity.
When I was proffered to her, she was most delighted. I became her favored pet, and I became pampered and doted on, and I was praised for my magnificent, pale golden coat. I was given some name that I cannot remember, but it is of no consequence now. Every day I was brushed to a rich sheen. She bade that I lay my head in her lap so that she could stroke me while she conducted her affairs at court and she would battle with me. Of course, these weren't battles in the true sense of the word, since it was carefully orchestrated that she would always win with me.
For many long years, I stayed at the empress' side as her most prized possession. She eventually died of old age in her sleep, and I, having grown deeply fond of her throughout the years, stayed by her side until she breathed her last.
And then, using a bit of fox magic, I disappeared into the night on light, fleet paws. I eventually came to make my home here, at one of the ancient temples honoring Inari, one of the old gods who has long since fallen out of favor of mankind. A forgotten remnant of a world and an age that has long since come to pass, and that few are still alive to remember.
I was glad to have my freedom once again...and yet, even now, I still miss her. Perhaps I will encounter her once again where I am going. Who is to say?
True night has fallen, and I rise to my feet, my old, weary body waving unsteadily. Now, it is time. I make my way up the temple steps with as much dignity as I can muster.
I make my way into the inner sanctum of the temple, past the crumbling, faded forms of robed saints and Buddha statues and shattered bodhisattvas, the soft clicking of my nails the only sound to disturb the moss covered silence of these ruins.
I stop before a massive brazier cast from bronze, that was once used in holy rituals and events. It is lined with a mixture old moss, charcoal, and bone dry tinder.
It will now serve as my funeral pyre.
Inhaling a deep breath, I breath out a powerful fire spin; the strongest move available to me. I pour my psychic energy into it, until it burns hot and bright enough that it looks like Moltres herself could burst forth from it; the legendary phoenix rebirthed from the ashes.
I continue to breathe the flames, using every last ounce of strength I have left in me until finally, at least, the conflagration glows the bright, blinding blue that the center of a hearth fire does.
I take a great leap into the fire and let them consume me, allowing my soul at long last to soar amongst the stars.
A/N: I don't even know what this is supposed to be...it was me attempting to weave traditional kitsune mythology into Ninetales? This was...yeah. It was a fail. Oh, well. I tried!