Chapter Text
It is the last day of work before a fairly extended vacation and despite the promise of unrestricted free-time, something has Yae Miko’s fur- both figurative and literal- feeling ruffled. The source of this odd almost-intuition remains unknown until half the afternoon has passed by and the bulk of the shrine’s public hours have nearly run their course. While surreptitiously making another investigative lap of her workplace, something teases at the edge of her olfactory sense.
“Ice? …hm.” she muses to herself, before her train of thought is interrupted and she is drawn into conversation with a young couple who have journeyed far from their small village in order to obtain blessings that will hopefully help with a child they are having difficulty conceiving.
By the time she is able to make an escape several minutes later, she has lost the barely-there trail.
“…drat,” she pouts, finding her kitsune-keen sense of curiosity fully piqued.
Ah, well. Back to work, for now…
At this point, only a handful of straggling patrons are present, but Miko’s attention has again been monopolized for the last half hour by that faint scent of frost— of ice— that she just cannot quite place. Intriguingly, there is no sign of snow (or worse) approaching, no visits from the youngest of the Kamisato siblings (who had received a cryo vision just recently), and no other beings capable of elemental magicks.
So she goes about her duties, as there isn’t much else to be done about the intermittent whiffs of frost she picks up here and there. After all, the mere presence of cryo in and of itself is not a cause for concern.
The feeling, however, that she is missing something right under her nose just might be.
Another half hour passes and just as the sky’s colour begins to melt into warmer tones, there comes a new, even fainter scent: that of blood. It has both the bright and the more ‘stale’ bouquet of fresh and old blood, and that combination spurs her into action.
And still, underlying the metallic scent on the air is that same frosty presence.
Inconspicuous is the name of the game, as it so often is for Yae Miko and she efficiently, calmly gathers the attention of several shrine maidens in her immediate vicinity.
“Alright, ladies. I do believe I smell a bit of a cold snap on the air— I will finish up here, near the tree. Please wind everything else down in the meantime.”
A chorus of acknowledgements reaches her ears and she watches each woman go about her duties until she is left alone at the front of the age-old yumemiru. Following her keen nose, she ascends the stairs to the platform surrounding the side of the tree which faces the shrine.
The mingled scents of ice and old blood get stronger yet as she actually approaches the trunk of the tree, and interestingly, something begins to tickle at her kitsune sense for magic, too.
Almost expecting an ill-appreciated prank from another of her kind, she rapidly darts around the wide bend of the Great Tree to face the perpetrator on its other side.
There is most definitely one of her kin, here, but they are in no condition to cause any mischief, ill-appreciated or otherwise; huddled between two above-ground roots is a trembling, nearly unconscious kit. Its dark bluish fur is tinted almost purple due to the light of the rapidly setting sun and all the pink of the yumemiru tree, nearby, and it is coated in a thin layer of frost from nose to rump— either as a last-ditch effort of self-defense from enemies, or perhaps due to losing control over the seemingly brand new cryo vision sitting nearby.
Later on, Miko will admit to herself that it had been pure instinct that unfroze her from her shock and carried her forward to pick up the unknown youngling. Never has she had any particular draw to children, and yet there is from this one. As she gently cradles the softly whining kit against herself, some of the ice melts away that had been clinging to several large lacerations across its body, and with the layer of rime gone, the scent of embers and lines of singed fur tell an ugly tale of a run-in with a pyro wielder without mercy.
Clicking her tongue in derision at whoever would have the gall to attack what is clearly a young fox— much less a kitsune— on land so close to her territory, she banks her ire for a later time and casts away any further thoughts on the matter.
Whoever possesses such an intense thirst for their own for demise shall inevitably have their wish gladly granted by way of the Guuji of Narukami Shrine. For now, however, several other things take clear precedence.
Miko’s mind is awhirl with several plans of action, and a soothing sound whose origin she pinpoints as being herself, somehow, soothes the young kitsune in her arms. After peeking around to be sure there are still no watchful eyes, she waltzes forward in a show of electro violet and ends up completing her gliding step inside her personal den.
At last, she is almost purely surrounded by her own scent and belongings inside a meticulously made, gigantic burrow deep in Mount Yougou. With the newly acquired safety and space to do so, Miko further assesses the kit as she lays it down at the edge of the oversized nest located in the back quarter of her home.
Whereas she had initially assumed the kit to be just out of childhood, it now seems more of an adolescent— nearing the cusp of adulthood: it had just been curled up so small between those giant roots at the back of the tree.
Rising smoothly after making sure that the little one isn’t in truly critical condition, she quickly gathers a small bowl and a rag to clean through any stubborn mats or dried blood in longish fur that might exacerbate existing injuries. As gentle as she is being, a degree of firmness is necessary to loosen up some more stubborn areas, but the underfed-looking kit must be utterly exhausted because the only sound it makes is one of mild protest when she eventually turns it over to access its other side.
(When she does so, she makes a quick note that, until she is disabused of the notion, she will heretofore refer to the young fox as a ‘he’.)
Soft fingers petting over the soft fur behind one of his ears soothe the young kitsune back into deeper unconsciousness. Finishing up with the majority of the mystery kit’s body, she moves on to his tail and legs. Distinctive teal pine needles from Narukami’s unique subspecies of evergreens are wedged between indigo paw pads.
The tale tells itself: a lone, wandering kit amongst the gallery of violent rogues and roaming kairagi that dodge the eye of the Tenryou Commission.
Miko allows her mind to wander a bit as she detangles the lighter, ice blue brush tip of an utterly limp tail. She wonders how long this young one had been out on his lonesome at an age that he should have still been under the care of a parent or loved one.
Cryo-aligned kitsune are rather rare in Inazuma, and she cannot recall having seen one since perhaps before the cataclysm several centuries ago, back when youkai were far more abundant on this plane. Even then, however, not many made these generally temperate lands their home.
In an attempt to avoid postulating more unsettling scenarios of what-could-have-been, the elder of the two fox demons resolves not to dwell upon one of the most distressing parts of this whole thing: just how close her new charge’s hiding place had been to the edge of a sheer cliff overlooking several even more steep and deadly drop-offs.
Sure, the young kitsune had likely managed to teleport itself to the mountaintop versus making the potentially perilous climb, but still. Every one of her tails, corporeal or otherwise, bristles at the line of thought and she immediately transitions into her four-legged form to curl up around the slightly smaller fox, covering them both with a fan of nearly a half-dozen cherry blossom pink tails.
Once her mind is slightly soothed by the slight buffer this form gives to complex emotional concepts, she moves her tails a bit and readjusts her position so that she can begin to groom the kit that is now lost in an uneasy sleep. Beginning with the freshly cleaned intermittent injuries so that this form’s naturally healing saliva can work its healing power, she settles in for a long weekend off.
Wistfully, she wishes, as she often does, for the company of her Ei.
Several hours later, deep within her personal den, Yae Miko revises her previous conclusion for the cause of the poor kit’s continuous heightened state: the scent that she can now primarily smell while in her four-legged kitsune form is that of pain more than fear.
Almost sub-vocally keening, she wraps herself around the again trembling, blood-and-soot scented youngling. Although she is not in possession of much healing magick, she had used what she was able to while licking through blue, singed fur and over any revealed scorched and lacerated skin.
By the time she had finished, the chilly form over which she’d done her best to fan her many tails had begun to warm up and cease smelling of fear at all. The lingering scent of pain remains, however, in spite of the analgesic and healing properties of her fox form’s saliva.
Perhaps, she hypothesizes, as she slowly settles in to rest after expending a good amount of her energy, it is not physical pain this kit is experiencing, but emotional, instead— something equally impressive and worrying, if true, as animal forms tend to carry more simplistic ranges of emotion and thought, especially at so young an age.
When the kit’s eyes had winched open a sliver, earlier, Miko had quickly spotted the distinctive star-shaped pupils denoting Khaenri'ahn descent. With that in mind, there was likely no shortage of… cataclysmically tragic events littering this little one’s subconscious, even before an ill-fated meeting with a pyro-wielder just recently.
Tsk— the poor thing probably hadn’t had a mentor of his kind to show him how to protect himself from all the ghastly mortals (and not-quite-so-mortals) taking advantage of his youthful lack of experience and training in the kitsune arts.
And all along, she had been here, with no idea there had been an orphaned (or abandoned) young fox youkai out and about in the unpredictable world of Teyvat.
Sure, raising children had never held any particular draw for Yae Miko, but perhaps…. perhaps she could dedicate a bit of her time just to help this one. At least until he gets back on his feet, anyway.
Miko had benefitted greatly from her time learning from Lady Saiguu, after all. Sure, she had already reached adulthood at that point, but how different could it be to show a young kitsune the ropes? She has taught and tutored countless shrine maidens as the Guuji, so she’s well versed in not forming attachment to a student.
She’d get a protégé (and all the implicit bragging rights) out of the whole thing, and the little blue kit would finally join someone deserving of the presence of such an esteemed breed of youkai.
Mind made up, Miko closes her eyes and curls closer around her charge, subconsciously starting up the soothing almost-purr in her throat to calm the restless ice kitsune.
When Guuji Yae returns from her somewhat impromptu 9-day vacation, the shrine maidens at Grand Narukami Shrine are somewhat surprised to see a skittish, blue fox kit traipsing around behind her, almost underneath her skirts as she goes about her daily business.
Nothing much changes in daily life, but if asked about her new little shadow, she will fondly rest a hand on the somewhat timid creature’s head and then explain that she is simply watching over a nephew for a little while.
For most, that minor elaboration appeases any initial curiosity, but not always.
On those rare occasions, an ominous sort of ozone-y aura is known to suddenly arise at the first sign that anybody— nosy visitor or imprudent shrine maiden alike— intends to approach the sakura-hued kitsune with further questions on the matter. Therefore, it is not too long before people quickly learn to respect the strict boundary and content themselves with simply enjoying the presence of the new furry inhabitant of Mt Yougou’s mountaintop.
Meanwhile, the newly (re)named Koya is happy to have a new name so close to his old one— suspiciously close, really. (As usual, if the older woman knows what he is thinking, she makes no mention of it. During her regular, educational lectures on their apparently shared kitsune ‘species’ under the wide umbrella of different types of so-called ‘youkai', there have been no mention of any level of telepathy. He’d taken that information with a large grain of salt and has accepted that his newly given appellation is just an easy-to-swallow coincidence, as difficult as it is to believe.)
Life as a fox, he finds, is overall much simpler, even if sometimes the sight of the particular hue of red found on the shrine maidens’ hakama reminds him terribly of a certain familial hair color he has not glimpsed in many a moon.
On those days, he takes to holing up in Miko’s den, far beneath the watchful, too-kind or too-curious gazes of visiting strangers. No doubt, they would wonder at the cause of the tiny blue fox kit’s hiding away in dark corners, curled in on itself and clearly doing its best to shut out the outside world, and so he indulges in that behavior in the security of his new home, instead.
1.5 months
Halfway though eating a portion of fried tofu that she'd split with Kaeya, Miko puts down her chopsticks and looks over at the fox sitting across from her on a recently commissioned otogi wood chair. (Up until she'd gained a new roommate, she hasn't had need of seating for more than one in her den.)
"You know, little one— Koya, I've always thought of Khaenri'ahn eyes as some of the most interesting in Teyvat," she muses casually, before taking a sip of some mid-grade sake.
Her eyes widen when she notes that her dinner companion almost literally falls from his seat to the ground and looks up at her with equally wide eyes, except there is a less than pleasant emotion reflected in not just his gaze, but his increasingly tense posture, too.
"What? Is it the name? I still feel like it suits you, but we could go through some others, you fickle little creature," she says affectionately before noting that he shakes his head in the negative.
"No? It's not the name? Well, what, then?"
Kaeya's adrenaline is running high, and he teeters on the edge of a panic attack, based on the way his heart is set on beating out of his chest, but he retains enough sense to try and communicate with the other kitsune.
Miko watches him take another cautious step back, tail between his legs, before he raises one front paw over his snout to cover his eyes, momentarily.
"Your... eyes? What about your ey— oh. Oh. Koya, I have known from the very moment you first looked at me where part of your heritage lies. It does not bother me: you must remember that I am long-lived enough to have co-existed with those who lived through the cataclysm. Some even lost their lives in Khaenri'ah itself..."
Miko's ears swivel even further back in a rare show of deeper emotion, and it takes her a few moments to summon a weak half-smile and continue speaking.
"The bond between us youkai is stronger than all of that, however, and I have admittedly grown... fond of your presence and dedication to learning about the kitsune magick arts. Have no fear, little one, for I've no intention of seeking out another protégé any time soon."
When the younger of the two unwinds from a stationary ball of stress only very slightly, and the acrid scent of anxiety barely lessens, Miko sighs internally at how tightly wound Koya still is.
She gracefully slides from her chair and then sits quietly upon the ground with open arms.
"Come here."
Almost immediately, the lightly quaking body burrows into her side and a face tucks down and out of sight, wedging nearly under her armpit.
Once the near-silent whimpers finally sound, she gently shushes them and runs gentle hands down the incredibly soft fur of his back.
Just what tale will this young kitsune have to tell her once he is able to speak again, she wonders.
2-4 months
Most days, pass without much excitement, which he is grateful for, and he is left to wander about the mountaintop, the shrine’s structures, and eventually, the long path weaving its way down the mountain.
He heals well, but naturally, a few scars remain, even if well-covered by his fairly long coat of dark teal fur. The subtle line that runs vertically from just above his right eye and up his brow through the shorter hair on his face is one he is curious to see translated over to his humanoid form.
By the time ever-lengthening sunny days arrive, he is able to summon a cooling layer of frost over his body that makes the more temperate days of spring and summer bearable.
To keep his profile as low as possible, the vision that had come all the way with him from Mondstadt has remained in Miko’s burrow since the day she’d taken him in. Thankfully, it would seem that a good portion of his cryo power comes from his youkai side, so he finds no need of it on a daily basis.
Instead, as the warmer months go on, he finds himself finally relaxing, as this place seems to find no issue with any part of him— including the combination of his periwinkle left eye and his silver-white right eye, whose unique pupil shapes Miko had long-ago waved off as being common in cryo-aligned kitsune like him. It’s a bluff that nearly nobody can call her out on, as not one mortal in Inazuma has ever seen an ice kitsune, to her knowledge.
Once Kaeya truly accepts that it is incredibly unlikely that anybody here will judge him harshly for his right eye's eerie color, the deep-seated knot of insecurity he has carried for half a lifetime begins to ease.