Side Story: The Crying Fox Hoaran
I was born as a mere little fox yokai.
Born from the faint grudges and lingering karma left scattered across the world, one among the innumerable weak spirits.
With fox ears and tails, yet a human-like body.
Just such a tiny fox yokai.
To survive, I ate bugs. To survive, I hid in burrows.
A beast-like existence, for a full six years.
It was a spring day when fresh green shoots sprouted.
I encountered a yokai.
That yokai was stronger than me. Seeing me, it called me weak, said weak yokai were useless, and swung its fist in playful malice.
Before I could even dodge, my leg snapped under its blow. As I collapsed to the ground, groaning, the yokai laughed mockingly and left.
As if there were no need even to kill me.
With my leg wounded, I had no choice but to lie there for a full day. Weak though I was, a yokai is still a yokai. As I finally managed to drag myself back to my burrow-nest with that leg, this time I was pursued by exorcists who made it their trade.
They saw me and declared yokai evil beings, chasing me relentlessly for three days and nights, raining arrows and talismans upon me.
Why.
What had I done wrong.
I barely escaped, but the arrows and talismans that struck me during the flight were fatal to one as feeble as I.
Unlike other yokai, I lacked any remarkable regenerative powers.
Even a mere lightly broken leg had kept me bedridden for a full day.
I could only await death.
That was when I met that person.
"A crying sound drew me here, and it was a little fox yokai after all."
She wore red robes and carried talismans much like those of the exorcists who had hunted me.
Ah.
I'm going to die here.
Thinking that, I closed my eyes.
It wasn't surrender to death. My eyes were simply too heavy to keep open any longer.
But when I opened them again...
I was cradled in her arms.
Held in her embrace, in her home, as she tended my wounds without a word, I finally asked her.
"Why...?"
Why save someone like me? At my question, she replied.
"I saw your wounds. The arrows and talismans are human-made, but that leg was injured by a yokai first."
Saying so, she stroked my head and continued.
"Poor thing, pitiful child. A fragile little fox, born into this world only to be hated by all."
Born weak, rejected by yokai.
Born with fox ears and tail, rejected by humans.
She, who took me in when I nearly died at the hands of both yokai and exorcists, said:
"Thus, this one shall love you in their stead. What say you, little fox?"
With those words, seeing me dazedly murmuring them back, she added:
"You are a fox child, so henceforth, I shall call you Hoah."
Fox, and child.
Thus, Hoah.
The moment a name was bestowed upon me for the first time, tears flowed.
Most yokai, born without parents, have no names.
I was the same.
One among the countless yokai self-born from the lingering karma and grudges of the world.
I thought it no matter, as with most yokai.
Most yokai's names were mere epithets born from human fear, standing in for true names.
But I never dreamed that I—a weak fox yokai, rejected by both yokai and humans—would ever receive a name.
I never dreamed it, yet when it happened...
Tears poured endlessly.
"A yokai, yet how is your Hoah's tears so clear?"
Wiping my tears, she jested.
"Perhaps this one named you poorly. Had I known you'd be such a crybaby, I would have called you Hoku—'Crying Fox.'"
That was fine too.
Hoah or Hoku.
Either was a name—what was there to dislike?
Any name that called me by me would do.
"Truly, such a teary-eyed child."
Wiping my flowing tears, she said so.
Later I learned that teaching and learning shamanism is done between blood kin or fated parent and child.
By naming me then, she had taken me as her daughter.
When I discovered this truth later, I wept once more.
I hugged her waist as she cooked in the kitchen and said:
"Mother, Mother."
Seeing me cry and call her so, Mother smiled and replied:
"You truly are a crybaby."
After that, raised by Mother, I began walking the path of shamanism.
Mother was a master shaman, and I possessed talent for it.
Though born a yokai, my weak body might have been due to that very talent.
Thus passed 120 years.
When my third tail grew and I comprehended the principles of Heart-Ki-Body, my now-aged Mother said:
"At last, that little fox child has grown so much. Once smaller than this one, now you've outgrown me."
Especially this part, she poked my breast with a jab, teasing.
Normally, I would have blushed and told her to stop, but this time, I said nothing.
Seeing me so, Mother continued.
"Born a yokai yet unstained, mastering and wielding shamanism like a human. Pure and beautiful as a flower. Yes, now your name comes to mind."
The name I'd known only as Hoah.
The name I'd always been called.
Only then did I realize it had been a temporary one, just to call me by.
But it mattered not.
What weighed on me was the death approaching my hunched, wrinkled, aged Mother.
The scent of death from Mother, this inevitable end, filled me with endless sorrow.
Knowing my heart, Mother grasped my hand tightly and said:
"Hoaran. The fox child has grown into a flower. Henceforth, you are Hoaran."
Thus, my name became Hoaran.
The fox child had blossomed at last into a flower.
A beautiful name.
Thinking so,
I wept again.
Why did tears come every time Mother named me?
Why must living things die?
I knew the natural order was unchangeable, yet I could only ask.
Why Mother, of all people.
Who had saved countless lives.
Who judged yokai's sins but never slew them lightly, rescuing even the unjustly persecuted, yokai or not.
Respected and loved by humans and yokai alike—why must she age and sicken and die like this?
150 years.
A long life for a human, but by human measure only.
To me, born yokai and raised as her human child...
To me, ultimately a yokai, it was fleeting, heartbreakingly short.
120 years had passed, yet to me, just shedding girlhood by human standards, it was endlessly brief.
A mere 150-odd years.
To a yokai like me, just that much time.
Yet this too-short span sought to steal the person I respected and loved most in the world.
Better to revive Mother.
Even if she became a yokai.
As long as she lived again. As long as we could be together.
As I thought this, Mother looked at me and said:
"Becoming your mother was a happy life. This one lived a truly happy life. Not too much, not too little—just right."
Her once-clouded eyes from age and illness now gazed clearly at me.
"So grieve not."
"A seed sprouts, blooms, withers, leaves seeds behind—'tis natural order."
"Having seen the flower bloom in this one's life, now is time to wither. Flowers are beautiful because they fade. You know this, yes?"
A bony, withered hand rested atop my head with a soft tap.
Once sturdy.
Once warm.
Sometimes stern.
Now merely skeletal—that grieved me.
She who called flowers beautiful for fading, halting what I meant to do—that was heartbreaking.
Her words, obeyed a lifetime, now impossible to heed—that grieved me.
Yet knowing I would obey in the end—that grieved most.
Sorrow brought tears.
Seeing me, Mother jested once more.
"Truly, this one named you wrong back then. Should have called you Hoku-ran, 'Crying Flower.'"
Yes.
I am still a crybaby.
Mother, please stay by my side.
I beg you.
The shamanism to revive the dead was not beyond a shaman of Mother's caliber. Even if she could no longer remain human, she could continue living.
Become a yokai, but live again.
I wanted Mother alive by my side.
Her daughter, her disciple, was a yokai.
Who would curse Mother for becoming one?
If any did... I would handle it.
But... gazing steadily at me, Mother smiled faintly.
"Truly, spoiled from childhood to now."
Bonk.
She lightly flicked my forehead.
"Yet, Hoaran, you are grown now. Is it not time to end such childishness?"
So saying, she slowly stroked my head and continued.
"When this one dies, burn my body and let the wind carry the ashes. Even in death, I wish to wander the world. To fly far, see lands I never beheld."
I nodded.
I had no choice but to.
"Thank you."
As if drowsy, those were her last words before closing her eyes.
Gazing at Mother asleep, I nodded through tears.
I wept a full day.
Wishing she would wake.
I wept a full day, but Mother never woke again.
As per her will, I sent her off on the flowing winds in funeral rites. Another two hundred years passed, and my three tails had become nine.
Heart-Ki-Body
Will, world, body.
Mastering their balance.
Heaven-Earth-Man
Sky, land, people.
Understanding the way of all things.
Yin-Yang Way
Dark and cold, light and hot, and their path known.
Following Mother's path, my work became redeeming lost yokai, punishing the wicked, protecting the virtuous and unjustly harmed.
As Mother had.
So I walked that way.
What I saw most was the countless yokai born into this world.
Many yokai I sealed, exorcised, or took in.
Yokai are born from karma.
Thus born embracing darkness, prone to desire, easily stained by evil.
Yet ultimately karma.
Born from human hearts, even yokai can hold goodness.
I proved it first: biting wicked yokai, taking in the pure, teaching humans and yokai to unite and live.
Thus I lived for decades more.
"Lady Fox."
"The fox descended from heaven."
The world knew me, calling me:
"Celestial Fox, Lady Hoaran."
I became the Celestial Fox Hoaran.
Shururuk—talismans poured from my sleeve, binding the massive yokai.
It had overrun five villages, devoured hundreds of humans.
Even fellow yokai it enslaved.
Enveloped in my talismans, the giant yokai screamed.
"You—you're a yokai too! Why attack me...!"
Writhing in agony, it struggled to peel off the clinging talismans, howling.
"Don't you resent it? Don't you resent this world? We are born from death! From grudges! From longing! We are born from lack! Don't you want to seize? Don't their possessions tempt you? Weak things making families, villages—don't you want to shatter them? Shatter, seize—don't you crave it! You must too! You're a yokai! Longing and taking is our nature! So why do you...!"
Block me?
Instead of answering, I asked:
"Yokai, what is your name?"
"Name? I need no such thing! I prove myself alone! Why need a name! Pathetic humans call me 'Mountainsplitting Fool' for my size and fists that topple houses—that's my epithet! Such trifles, I neither need nor want!"
Is that so.
Hearing the yokai's reply,
I softly chanted the incantation.
"GRAAAAAAAH!!"
The talismans became burning foxes, scorching and constricting the yokai's body. To its agonized screams, I said:
"You asked why a fellow yokai blocks you."
Looking up at the massive "Mountainsplitting Fool" collapsing to its knees with a thud, I said:
"This one is no yokai, but Celestial Fox Hoaran—that is why."
"Because this one has the name given by the mother who raised me: Hoaran."
"You, called Mountainsplitting Fool. Even in death, no one in this world will remember your name."
Though it boasted no need for a name, proudly calling itself Mountainsplitting Fool,
I gazed upon it with pity.
"D-don't... look at me... with those eyes..."
Those were its final words.
As it crumbled dead, I saw the karma spilling forth.
Abandoned children.
Children with parents, yet discarded for heaven's curse.
Their grudges gathered...
Into families, villages of such families.
Resentful spirits of children who watched and died.
Born from grudges of children dying while seeing those who abandoned them live together.
"...What you truly desired was not destruction, but to be there among them."
But that wish could no longer come true.
"Lady Fox."
"Thank you. Lady Fox..."
"Celestial Fox, you've avenged our families..."
Humans thanking me profusely, glaring resentfully at the yokai corpse.
Their grudge against yokai would birth new ones.
"Yokai are ultimately pitiable beings, born from principles akin to shamanism."
"If longing and prayer become karma when unfulfilled wishes turn to grudges, yokai are born from those grudges."
"Ultimately... the shamanism we wield and the myriad yokai born into this world share the same root. If shamanism fulfills longing and prayer... yokai arise from unfulfilled, withering grudges."
"Pity them, Hoaran."
Recalling Mother's words from life, I closed my eyes.
"Uh, Lady Fox. What for the yokai exorcism fee..."
A villager asked obsequiously. Opening my eyes, I looked at him and said:
"Hold rites for that yokai, erect a mound, and make offerings."
"Pardon? But..."
"Honored yokai harbor no grudges, reborn without assailing humans. If you wish no further calamity, heed this one."
"...Y-yes, understood."
Someday.
As Mother said, will such a day come?
"Hoah, Hoah. Someday, someday it will."
A day when all yokai and humans understand, live together.
Equal, peaceful.
Such a world.
I sought to realize Mother's dream in her stead.
But it was hard.
Villages of sheltered yokai and human children: now three.
Yokai and humans harmonizing: barely three villages.
A distant hope still.
The world of yokai-human unity: only three small villages achieved.
The wish Mother never realized, never saw.
For all the world to be so: still far off.
Yet.
"Seeds sprout, bloom, contend not with years."
Seeming impossible now, someday they too will sprout, flower.
And someday.
The world Mother longed to see will come.