Wandering Kitsu

The sun began to rise over Tsukigakure, but Kitsu did not warmly greet the light in his heart for the first time in many years. Instead, he felt heavy even at the edge of the forest, where he always sought tranquillity at the beginning of the day. The village had begun encroaching on the surrounding woodlands, bringing a feeling of darkness to his spirit. For the first time, he saw trees felled and the earth churned for new construction, as a stark and vivid reminder of human progress that came at nature’s expense. Expansion was not new, but as he walked through the parts of the village nearest the forest, the extent of the transformation was too stark to ignore. Where once there had been ancient trees and a thick underbrush, he now saw the beginnings of structures. Homes and marketplaces were being built to accommodate the growing community of Tsukigakure. 

His bond with the forest was not a mere preference for solitude – it was deep and personal, the connection to the land and its living spirits. It repulsed him to see the significant parts of the forest sacrificed for the village’s expansion, deepening the sense of outrage and protectiveness of the incoming development. Below the surface of the dust raised by sawing and hammering uprooted vegetation unexpectedly, the smell of fresh timber hammered by coarse human hands invaded his nostrils. It seemed discordant, ruined, and unnatural against the song of the forest he cherished. He decided to face the challenge, not retreat from it. He was going to the eldest of the elders of Tsukigakure, the keepers of the village’s growth and spirit. His usual, enigmatic presence today keenly pulsed with intensity, demanding threefold reconsideration.

And so, when faced with Kitsu’s rational appeal—more than just one voice of the old begging for respect but one reflecting on heritage’s different future—the elders could do nothing more than ponder. The discussion was emotional, intense, and lived. Kitsu injects a more critical voice than any other, championing the other pervasive growth at the cost of nature preservation as vital if the village's future is to be respected.

As Kitsu retreats, night overwhelmed Tsukikagure, and the remaining brought hope and concern; true, the village council will not disband the planning overnight, but Kitsu’s message stays within the venue; one day, the council rescued the forest down in the village. Kitsu sat alone in no man’s land and, looking at the untouched green stretching as far as the eye could lead, found some measure of regret, peace, and reassurance. Here, too, he knew very well that the task ahead would not be easy. To return to his role as protector and guardian. Despite night kicking in and shadows forming, Kitsu stood sentinel.

The following sunrise of Tsukigakure marked a shift away from the serenade of the first rays and gentle songs of the forest awakening and towards the hustle and bustle of the villagers going about their days. Kitsu, having spent the night in reflection and watchful rest within the forest’s embrace, decided to immerse himself further in the day-to-day life of the village by engaging with one of its simplest yet most cherished traditions – breakfast at the diner. Kitsu was an out-of-the-ordinary sight to the patrons of the local diner as he made his way through the village. His dress and demeanor were more at home in the forest's solitude and peace than in the village streets' frenetic environments. The restaurant was a beehive of activity and sensation – smells of coffee and fresh bread, the sizzle of bacon, and the hum of multiple conversations competed for Kitsu’s attention. Even he had to admit that the invitation of the senses was strong. He found an empty corner table, sat, and took it all in. 

Family units who had gathered before the start of the day, workers preparing for the hardships about to be faced with a hearty meal and banter, elders exchanging news and gossip – it was a living picture of life and community that Kitsu rarely found himself at home with.
Nonetheless, something was comforting in the display, as well as the sense of order and normalcy that it implied. He ordered a breakfast that represented his preferences for natural, unprocessed foods, listening and catching snippets of conversations along the way. The talks swirled around the comings and goings, the small fights and big worries, the daily dances and passing dramas of the village community. Every bite of his meal, every overheard word reinforced Kitsu’s understanding of the tapestry he resided in, surrounded by – the forest was life to these people, and the people gave life to the forest. He was a solitary weaver on the edge, the first guardian of the village – and the last of the forest was being drawn in. 

When the meal was finished, Kitsu reestablished his dedication to both, remembering his place in this grand, enigmatic dance. Among the villagers, his presence at the diner was his message – the silent proclamation of intent to continue to be not just the guardian of the forest but a living part of the village, invested in its people and their future. Exiting the building, Kitsu donned his mantle of responsibilities along with the morning shadows. The breakfast had nourished his empty stomach, and the meeting had nourished his soul, leaving him invigorated, newly aware of the daily rhythm and worried heartbeats of the village he was sworn to protect. As he melted into the dawn again, headed likewise for the town's edge and the forest's safety, he felt the pull and weight of his new life and the day ahead. Perhaps it was less of a continuation of battles and struggles of the old ways against the latest and more a starting point from which to weave new strands in the multifaceted tapestry.

The warmth and muncher left behind, Kitsu’s steps led him through the heart of Tsukigakure. The village awakes and goes about daily life, starkly contrasting the undisturbed peace that had settled over the place he loves. He walked through the town, his discomfort growing – the square bustles have their unique energy about them, the bubbling laughter of children playing, the subtle hum of commerce going on seemingly undisturbed around him – all of this felt like a reproach. Kitsu could not shake the fact that his regular walk was disrupted by something different and new. Instead of the edges of the village, his eyes automatically flicked to the forest – what had once been the forest. 

What used to be nature now felt like a patch of land that humanity had seized to grow something else. The knowledge that it was taken made him feel sick inside. It was not just the creeping further into the natural land that he held dear but a more profound harm that he sought to understand. When he walked among the people, his usual quiet remained only from the outside – inside, he was a critic. The homes that seemed cute and homey now looked like an aggressive imposition on the house. The roads where people walked and drove carts before now felt like a convenient path where the animals once loved to walk.

Despite all these feelings, Kitsu’s face was calm, and the villagers could not see anything other than their neighbor's face in him. However, he was boiling inside; a fight between the heir to something significant and the destructive deviant rebelled in his heart. Kitsu was someone else now, neither one of the villagers nor one of the forest dwellers, but an utterly lonely person. He soon came to the outskirts of the village, and the reality of the unchecked spread of humanity weighed on his chest more heavily than ever before. At the same time, all his thoughts about what he could do started to get more precise. He could make an educational campaign for the villagers about how important the forest was. He could make an order to establish new development laws. There were so many options. 

However, the only sure thing was that Kitsu could not stay indifferent anymore; his disdain for the villagers’ actions turned into something proactive. The feelings of helplessness became the fuel for action fast. He turned back, and the first thing he saw was the green, always welcoming infinity of the forest. Here, one loses sense of time, and Kitsu spent an eternity inside seconds. However, the forest, while a reminder of the old reality, was also a challenge to everything Kitsu once stood for. He could not end all the nightmares with one wand now. Thus, it became a new goal he would pursue for as long as possible.

In the wake of the briefing, Kitsu left the village. His feet carried him to the training grounds offset from the town. The practice area for the martial arts and skills of the villagers lay just outside the city, close to the forest. It was almost as if the town was a border or, perhaps, a bridge between man and nature, and the training grounds were the literal midpoint. When he reached the grounds, it was deserted. The morning practice groups had yet to begin their work. The peace and solitude of the area appealed to Kitsu. The targets were spaced at different distances and heights, making it easy for him to imagine adversaries surrounding him. The nearness of the forest provided an easily accessible place to escape the thoughts of the village’s need for growth. 

Kitsu picked his favorite spot near the targets he always used; it gave him a clear line of sight to several of them. He unslung his bow and pulled it from the strap, reminded of the tree his bow came from. The wood in his hand had once been in danger of being cut down, and that history connected Kitsu to the town’s protector and warrior’s dual mission. Kitsu took a deep breath and let the feeling of his bow center him. The world narrowed to the tip of his arrow, then flew forward and left the strings, following the arrow to lodge itself in the targets placed for practice.

Kitsu complied, and every arrow pressed against the string bore the mark of his focus and understanding. Each shot tested his aim and control over his breath, step, and feeling, a composite assembly of mind and body that archery demanded. This formality was not merely a physical application but a spiritual avowal, a method for finding the clear-headedness and peacefulness he longed to discover amid the village’s dissonance. As he traversed among targets, Kitsuavier ranged and angled consideration; he maintained symmetry in his struggles with the community. Each arrow, equivalent to every choice involving the village, must be struck with the thin line of insight and the long line of concord and evenness. The inaccuracy resistance revolved around his balance of thinking regarding the approach to protect the village and unify the forest. Kitsuavierspent spent several hours in the preparation region and completed his preparation more than he had imagined. 

Feeling restored, a layer clearer, and fiercer of celebration, he gathered his shafts, glancing at everyone deliberately before repacking them collectively. Kitsu. And away, the sun emerged as an intruder over the woods, well-prepared for the day’s battle. Today, it is more powerful and ready. This arrangement he discovered in this place would authorize him to reduce the solitude and uncertainty associated with him in his conferences and strategies along the days forward. He strolled beyond, the trees about him murmur, comforting recollections of that place and his logical, everyone he scampers.

Having spent an entire day focused on practice and contemplation at the training grounds, Kitsu decided to treat himself to something more earthly and engaging that evening. He made his way to “Darkside,” one of the best-known restaurants in the village, where villagers often came to enjoy good food, drink, and each other’s company. Although he had never been pleasant, he thought tonight might be the night to make an exception. Stepping inside, he felt surrounded by the warm, almost tangible light of lanterns and animated conversation. The interior was rustic and dimly lit, with a few massive wooden beams overhead, and the room was packed with people eating and drinking. 

The scent of grilled meat and spices permeated the air, making his mouth water – Kitsu realized how much he had missed the simpler pleasures of village life. Choosing a table in the corner where he could see the whole room but remain relatively unobserved, he ordered the most expensive thing on the menu – steak and shrimp. It was a rare treat, having overdone himself for days on end, and he chose one of the darkest, most robust ales to go with it, savoring the anticipation. The room was abuzz: families ate and laughed, couples huddled in close conversations while groups of friends gesticulated and retold their daily adventures. For one moment, Kitsu felt as if he were part of the tapestry – and that feeling, however unusual, felt good.

Kitsu took another moment to admire his presentation when his meal arrived. The steak was cooked to perfection, crisped on the outside while tender on the inside, and the shrimp had a nice spice to them, grilled to perfection. Kitsu savored each bite, letting the flavors encompass him and delighting in the new variety of textures and tastes he could try. The meal was something to remember. The ale was just as strong as advertised and contained the flavor that only the excitement of creating an ale could produce. The combination of a fantastic meal and a finely made ale set Kitsu at ease for the first time in ages. The stresses of his life’s work, the pressures to protect the forest and the encroaching village, were on his mind, and in their place was the joy of experiencing well-made food and drink. Any worries and concerns were drowned out in the rise and fall of the conversations around him, of the laughter and happiness that permeated the room, and of the realization that, just for one evening, he was not a guard of the village or the forest and was just another happy villager.

Leaving “Darkside” later that night, Kitsu felt restored in body and spirit. Dinner and the night out were a much-needed break, a brief reprieve from the many trials he had yet to face. As he walked back to his place on the fringe of the forest, the light of the stars overhead, he brought with him the memory of good food consumed and a symbol of the tiny human connections that eased the burden of his charge. He had not simply feasted tonight; he had participated in a societal rite, a joyful recognition of the simpler things in life, and he came back into the bounds of the woods with at least a lighter step.

He gently walked away from the village toward the forest. The music of Darkside and the wild laughter of the patrons grew faint behind Kitsu, merging with the soft rustle of the trees in the evening breeze. He had never felt the contrast between the human warmth of the village and the silent embrace of nature as acutely. His life straddling the boundary between the two seemed to come into even sharper focus, reminding Kitsu that he kept one foot in each world. He stepped into the forest, and the peace enveloped him like a familiar blanket. The trees seemed to greet him; their branches swayed in the wind, moving slightly more than they would if the breeze was the only force acting upon them. He would remain in this place for some time; while he cherished this part of the forest for its solitude, he was well acquainted enough with these woods to have many other quiet sanctuaries promptly accessible. 

His reunion with nature calmed him considerably; this was his home in a way that the village could never be. The woods’ quiet began to wash away the daily noise in his mind, erasing the remnant thoughts of the afternoon council meeting. Kitsu soon arrived at the clearing he knew well, the ideal spot to sit and meditate among the old trees and nocturnal sounds. This village had much to learn from me. The battle to spare the planet while at the same time boosting the lives of those who lived in it was strenuous, but I welcomed it. This forest was the primary battleground of this struggle and would likely remain, so what will happen when I see the outcome?

Kitsu glanced at the stars twinkling through the canopy as the night deepened. They were foreign, distant, a constant reminder that there was a world outside the immediate confines of his life, a universe of which he and the village were just a part, a jumble of threads in a much larger ecological and communal tapestry. It helped to balance him, to remind him that his worries were just one small piece of a giant puzzle. He finally lay back upon the forest floor, the earth firm and cool beneath him. He closed his eyes to the sounds of the forest and let its symphony of insects and rustles guide him toward restful alertness. He felt at peace here; his person threaded into a cycle of growth and decay, ebb and flow, the winds of life in death dance that persisted around him everywhere he looked. 

Tomorrow would bring a new list of worries and challenges to his table, but now, he was just content to exist here. A part of the village, a part of the forest, a guardian of the fragile balance between the two. In the quiet of the fantastic night, he renewed his will, bolstered by the knowledge that each step he took was just another mile towards harmony. And so, shrouded under the reassuring embrace of trees and venerable stars, he closed his eyes and slept, content only to be.

WC: 3015
TWC: 3015

WC Claims:
Moving 26 stats from speed (New speed 124) to Vigor (New vigor 61)
+750 towards upgrading Singularity to A rank (Complete) Was already B rank on stat page. Moving Imitation black hole to B rank
+483 towards Perfect Body (Complete) (Previous Progress)
+1014 towards mastering Imitation Black Hole (complete) (Previous Progress) Mastering for half hand seals)
+768 towards mastering Flower Garden Illusion (768/1125) (Mastering for half hand seals)