AUTHOR: Foxprose1
GENRE:
STORY: One-Shot
STATUS: Complete
RATING: T
DISCLAIMER: Kamisama Hajimemashita (Kamisama Kiss) Julietta Suzuki/Viz Media/TMS Entertainment. All publicly-recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. No remuneration is being received from this work, and no copyright infringement is intended.
This is just a bit of fluff inspired by the fabulous art created by lulu2222 and hikariviny and shared through DeviantArt as well as Mine by writingissues.
Hope you enjoy! And since I'm entirely too addicted to reviews, please comment!
The Fox Daydreams
Really, humans were possibly the stupidest, most witless creatures to ever consume oxygen. They were lower than the most incompetent familiar. Worse even than the mindless predators who . . .
Each sip of sake unleashed a new and more imaginative condemnation from Tomoe.
He had come to the shrine's porch with his sake and pipe to relax, he reminded himself. Instead, anger and indignation roiled inside him as his mind kept returning to images of Nanami's childhood and her worthless father - the images he'd witnessed on their recent visit to the Year God's Shrine.
This was getting him nowhere, and it was wasting good sake besides. Though it was a stretch to describe anything produced by that snake as good. Perhaps he should try some of the meditation exercises Mikage had taught him long ago. He closed his eyes and took slow, deep breaths, allowing his mind to drift.
Inevitably, he returned to the image of Nanami as a young child, but he kept his breathing steady as the image faded to a tolerable level and his mind wandered.
How was it conceivable that Nanami's father had not recognized what a treasure he'd been given? Surely even the stupidest human could comprehend Nanami's kindness and loyalty, evident even when she was a small girl. Tomoe could feel anger starting to creep through his body again; he took another sip of sake and focused on his breathing.
His mind still wandering, he contemplated how he would act were the gods to favor him in such a way.
That was how the fantasy had begun. It had been harmless, really. Just a way to calm down when he felt tempted to seek out Nanami's father and rip him limb from limb; a way to clear his mind of aggression and violence.
Were the gods to give him such a daughter, he would cherish her above all.
At first, Tomoe's imaginary daughter was only a vague notion. But each time he returned to this private, embarrassingly domestic fantasy, his imagination filled in details, and eventually she gained a more specific form. She would have dark hair, he decided, but her kitsune features would announce to the world that this beautiful young child was his. Her eyes would be violet, like his, but perhaps a shade or two darker. Her tail would be auburn tipped in gold and she would swish it when she became excited or happy.
He would make sure that she and her mother had the best food and warm blankets. He would buy them beautiful kimonos for festivals and lacquer ornaments for their hair.
He would take her with him as he did chores around the shrine, and he would teach her to keep her tail brushed and her ears clean. He would cook delicious meals and make sure she ate well. Sometimes there would be ice cream. Perhaps he would take her to the beach or to visit other shrines.
He would keep that damned snake away from her. That vain crow, as well.
Her mother could take her out in the mundane world when she was old enough to hide her ears and tail. Her mother would probably want her to go to school, but they would have to discuss it. A tutor might be a better idea.
Her mother.
When Tomoe had first begun daydreaming about this child, he'd left the role of her mother deliberately uncast. He told himself that this fantasy didn't involve a mate or any pieces of his real life; it was just harmless mental fluff. But though he claimed not to have given it any conscious thought, his imagination knew precisely where to find the mother of his dreamed-of child.
Having conjured up a beautiful daughter, it was no trick at all to imagine Nanami as a strict but doting parent. She would warn him against spoiling the girl, he knew, and she would caution him against too much ice cream or too many sweets.
He envisioned her brushing their daughter's hair and taking breaks from talisman-writing to cuddle or play with the little girl. He even imagined the stern warnings he would give to Nanami about involving herself in dangerous situations. A mother - even a mother who is a land god - must not take risks. Her family needs her too much to risk her well-being.
Embroidering his fantasy gave Tomoe almost as much pleasure as his evening ritual of drinking sake and smoking his pipe. But he was annoyed by his preoccupation with such a weak, syrupy daydream. He was accustomed to more lascivious imaginings, and mentally selecting kimonos or brushing a small girl's tail seemed . . . well, not very masculine.
For a few days, he tried to stop his mind from returning to the images. You're a disgrace, he told himself. You're not behaving like a proper yokai or familiar. You should be packed off to that fox village in the Miyagi Prefecture to beg treats from visitors.
But it did no good. Left to its own devices while he swept the shrine or worked in the garden, his traitorous mind occupied itself by thinking of how Nanami might look, her belly rounded with his child.
Unfortunately, the fantasy increasingly left him feeling melancholy. However their pasts had been intertwined, however their futures would be linked . . . there were problems. Yokai and human? Familiar and god? There were rules about these things! The little dark-haired girl with the auburn-and-gold tail and soft brown ears probably wasn't even a physical possibility. Tomoe had created this little slice of contentment assuming that it would remain locked away in his heart, but he was beginning to feel uncomfortably invested in it.
It was the night of the full moon, and Nanami was up late, reviewing the petitions of a bumper crop of worshippers. She padded noiselessly onto the porch, but of course, the fox heard her.
"Hi, Tomoe! You look sad. Is everything all right?" Concern radiated from those deep brown eyes.
"I suppose so. Shouldn't you be in bed?"
"Well, probably. But please tell me what's bothering you. I'll worry if I don't know." Now her brow was creased slightly and she put her hand on his arm.
"It's nothing, really."
"Did I do something wrong? I know I can be so careless," she began to apologize.
"You owe me no apologies. Except for allowing that lazy, useless snake to hang about."
Nanami smiled at this small jibe. "But you would tell me if something were wrong?" she persisted.
"It's just the way of the world. We don't get everything in life that we want," Tomoe stated philsophically.
"Well, if there's something you want, you should request it from me or one of the other gods. That's our job."
"I suspect my desires far outstrip your powers, Nanami."
"Desires? Is this something you dreamed up in the red light district, you perverted fox?" Nanami's voice was gentle and teasing.
Tomoe laughed and leered comically at her. "Indeed not, my dear. Fulfilling those kinds of fantasies would be no challenge at all for a powerful and attractive shinshi such as myself!"
She turned suddenly serious.
"Well, if it's something you really want, you shouldn't give up so easily. You should ask the gods for it. And if none of us is powerful enough to grant your desire on our own, maybe we can work together to give it to you." And with that, Nanami kissed his cheek, squeezed his hand, and arose, padding away as quietly as she'd come.
Tomoe watched her leave as he poured a second cup of sake and brought it to his lips.
Perhaps she was right. It was still embarrassing, though. He'd have to express his wish in a way that made him look a little less like a pathetic pet and a little more like the fox demon he was supposed to be.
But he knew Nanami. He knew her optimism in the face of ridiculous odds, her dogged persistence, and the sheer willpower she brought to every task. He knew how the word "can't" seemed to bypass her synaptic connections entirely.
If he truly wished for a little brown-haired daughter with dark violet eyes, a fluffy auburn-and-gold tail, and soft, sensitive fox ears . . . well, he could start shopping now for the kimonos and hair pins, just like the ones he'd already purchased in his dreams.