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Karina · 9/20/2026, 9:53 AM

for Izumi , backdated to aug 17th!

Sunlight’s gilded rays peek through the openings of its cloud consorts, drifting through the gaps of crimson leaves to dapple spotty red, brown and green dirt with its golden light. Delicate red palmate leaves fall to the ground unceremoniously. One might imagine the towering gates of shrines to jut themself up from the roots of the grandiose red trees; to stand tall upon the slowly moving currents of a river and frame the cracked rocks of stairs to ceremoniously lead weary travellers to the comforting grace of woven tatami mats. But here–there were no such thing, not that Karina had found. The woods were not marked by the presence of man, there were no shide to wrap around the fronts of these gates, no gravelly paths to speak of near civilisation; here, nature had dominated all.

And she supposed now, she had been a part of it. Lounging lazily atop a naturally crafted throne of maple leaves, redness nestled between snow-white fur to resemble the very clouds that danced atop the land. Oh, the trees, so gargantuan, roots sprawling over the damp soil that would lift their heavy lumber bodies like wood-carved gods to lift the very sky with the strong branches of their arms. Home had been quiet–always quiet, perched on the mountaintops and shrouded in fog, nestled between the split-woods of ginkgo and maple. The silence of these new lands were not quite the same; it’d not been the artificial and expected silence of strict families, wasting away within shoji-lined doors and thin wooden walls to sit upon ritualistic altars in the shrines of old, to waste their days praying to gods who would never hear them–who would never care to.

Silence of the woods was natural. Gentle, flowing with time like the leaves that drifted from the skies–like the gifts bestowed from the heavens above. Silence, here, could be disrupted without consequence. In her adolescence, she’d remembered how partial she’d been to curling herself in cold corners in the fear of leaving herself vulnerable to the snapping of beasts in the night–but here, she’d sprawled herself out atop the bed of red, she was not afraid. The body of a beast had much to offer–in some ways, she felt she had not suffered the loss of human elegance, but rather had it replaced with something much more naturally graceful. She noticed, now, she did not need to move legs beneath the scrutinising eyes of others in particular manners–her brain did not struggle with the task of keeping up fluidity in movements, in observing meticulously how the curl of fabric may offer another image of her figure to others; how her hair must sprawl in delicate white locks in only so very specific ways.

No, living as a beast–a wolf–had been easy. Slender legs moved on their own, her tail had twirled along with the swaying of plush, voluminous and silky fur. She needn’t think about the machinations of elegance when bending her hind legs to prop herself atop jagged rocks, or how she must curl her body, lay her tail atop the rest of herself like a kitsune in the winter. Though it had taken some time for her mind to grow accustomed, she’d quickly learned herself capable. Though not much as capable as her time as human; her limbs were still feeble and weak, and she did not sport herself a gargantuan nor a figure of prominent musculature. But her lack of physical prowess was nothing she’d held her hand in her paws and weeped of; no, greater strength would always lie in honey-tipped tongues. But there was no need for any show of strength - today was pleasant, here was pleasant, as pleasant as she remembered life could be.

And despite it all–head perked up to squint and look between the patterned and delicately shaped gaps of leaves, she had wished for company to endure the silence, if only for a brief moment.

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