Stories? Everyone has them.
Sure, there's a bit of magic in each one.
But if you're talking about magic—real magic—it's rare in this world, hidden in pockets humans rarely notice. It's a secret no one talks about.
Secrets exist everywhere. What's mine?
Well, I'm a Kitsune.
But I'm far from the only beast lurking in Ashwood. Many of us hide in plain sight.
Ashwood sat at the edge of the world—or so it felt. The town dozed beneath the rhythm of its clock tower, streets perfumed with wildflowers and damp earth. Life was gentle. Predictable.
Beyond the last row of houses, though, the forest waited.
Tall trees rose like watchful sentinels, their interlaced canopies dimming the light. Leaves whispered secrets, shadows shifted unnaturally, and the distant murmur of a hidden waterfall wove through the still air. The forest was alive—aware, patient.
At the heart of town, the café glowed warmly against dusk. Vintage lamps cast amber halos over polished tables, the scent of fresh coffee lingering. Laughter murmured. Cups clinked. Espresso hissed.
It was here that the rumors began—harmless at first. Books disappearing only to return smelling of moss and rain. Symbols carved into unreachable bark. Glimpses of something white and radiant slipping between the trees.
Humans are greedy, and hope can be dangerous.
Tourists came. Strangers lingered. Not all had pure intentions.
I knew.
Deep in the Black Forest, where I lived, sunlight fractured into pale ribbons. Two men crept through the underbrush, nets coiled tight, boots crushing leaves. Birds went silent, as if holding their breath.
Then—white.
A flash of fur slipped between the trees. A shimmer of blue-green feathers. The magical white fox paused, flashing its colourful peacock tail just long enough for them to see before vanishing.
Bad timing.
"The Fairy Fox is real," one whispered, trembling.
"We're going to be rich," the other said, greed twisting awe into something ugly.
They moved toward a cave, light bending away from its entrance as if the forest itself warned them.
Then my eyes opened—red, glowing, piercing.
I stepped forward in my full form: nearly three meters of fur, nine thick tails pulsing with inner fire, teeth catching the dim light. The net slipped from trembling fingers. Panic claimed them before I did.
"Kitsune!" one screamed, turning to flee. "Run!"
The forest answered my low growl. Branches clawed at them. Roots betrayed their steps. They burst from the forest's edge, mud-soaked, hearts hammering.
"That's it," one gasped. "I'm never coming back."
I lingered unseen, watching them disappear. Then the forest shifted again—not in warning, but acknowledgment.
Hopefully, they would share this cautionary tale with other poachers.
Sunlight touched the cave, and my lupine form melted like mist into something more… human. As the careless rumours described of the mysterious fox man: tanned, broad-shouldered, lanky.
Over-romanticized.
But if I could rewrite these legends, I'd say steady, with reddish curls catching the light. You'd know it was still me—because my eyes still burned with the same quiet intensity, fox or human form.
At the cave threshold, the Fairy Fox—peacock tail ruffled, trembling—looked up at me.
"Shh," I whispered. "You're safe. They're gone now."
I reached out and gently caressed its fur. It cautiously turned to look at me. Then, with a soft chirp, it leapt onto my shoulders, content, its tail brushing against my ear.
Adorable.
I always seem to have that effect on little critters. And children.
Leather creaked as I rose, coat and hat shadowing my stealthy physique honed by vigilance. The forest stirred, an unspoken acknowledgment.
"Another Fairy Fox safe," I muttered, a faint smile touching my lips. "And another warning delivered."
The fox lingered a moment longer on a branch, nibbling berries, before vanishing into the thickets. I summoned a gentle wind; leaves swirled over my footprints until no trace remained.
Then a familiar aroma reached me—coffee. Fresh, rich, unmistakably human.
"Ah," I exhaled, following the scent toward the glow of Ashwood Café just beyond the forest's edge.