“So… um, Ai? Lumi? What do I call you?” I asked, hesitating slightly as I addressed the fox.

  The small ailed creature before me turned her head slowly, her snow-white fur shimmering in the dim light of the shrine. Her golden eyes, rid deep like molten gold, locked onto me with an iy that sent a shiver down my spihere was something profoundly a in her gaze, a weight of time and knowledge that did not belong to the pyful, mischievous Ai I had e to know.

  “Why did you call this tiny fox Ai?” she asked, her voice carrying a tone of quiet curiosity. Yet, there was something else hiddeh her words, something almost wistful.

  “Well… because you’re… lovely, and that’s what Ai means.” I answered, struggling slightly to put it into words. It was simply just a name from the game for Yuki’s cat, specifically, it was Yuki’s voice actress name.

  The white ailed fox, Lumi or Ai or whatever she had bee, lowered her gaze, her golden eyes dimming slightly as she seemed to ponder something. Her tails, now carrying a faihereal glow, swayed slowly behind her, moving as if caught in an invisible current.

  “Ai,” she murmured softly, repeating the name as if testing how it felt oongue. “Ai.” There was a brief pause before she spoke again, her voice quieter this time, more thoughtful. “That name feels familiar. It is as though I have heard it before, not of this world.”

  “So, what should I call you?” I asked, my voice ced with uainty.

  The small ailed fox blinked, her golden eyes shimmering as if something deep within her had finally clicked into pce. “Ah… I remember now.”

  Before I could respond, she suddenly leaped into the air with surprising agility, usiiny paws to propel herself onto my head. I barely had time to react before she nded gracefully, settling in with a tent sigh. Her small, warm body rested fortably on top of me, her tails draping zily over my shoulders.

  “Hey, what are you doing up there?” I asked, feeling the soft press of her fur against my scalp.

  “This is a good spot,” she replied, her voice carrying a certain amusement as her paws assumed a rexed, lying position. “It feels natural.”

  I let out a defeated sigh. “Fine, I guess. But you were saying… you remembered something?”

  The fox hummed softly, as if reminisg about a distant past. “Yes. Right after the corruption started, we desperately tried to call for help. But the war of the witches had left the fox-kin fearful of the outside world, and none dared to answer our plea.” Her voice grew quieter, tinged with an old sorroaited and waited, but no one came.”

  I remained silent, letting her tinue.

  “As a st resort, we gathered all of our remaining spiritual power… and with it, we summoned a guardian. A small ailed fox, o to protect us and carry our will.” She paused, her golden eyes flickering like dlelight. “But the corruption was faster thaicipated. The guardian was still inplete when it was born. It cked memories, a name… a sense of self.”

  “I… see,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry. It must have been lonely.”

  The small ailed fox didn’t answer right away. Instead, she stared at the altar, her golden eyes deep with thought. Then, without warning, she leaped from my head and nded gracefully atop the worn stone. Her tails curled slightly behind her as she gazed down at the a surface, her expression unreadable.

  “No, it wasn’t lonely at all,” she finally murmured. Her voice held a quiet warmth, as if recalling something precious. “During winter… She came here. To this very shrine.”

  I frowned. “She?”

  “The girl who found her way to us,” the fox tinued, her gaze never leaving the altar. “She was lost… and weak. The snow had covered the nd in silence, and the winds howled through the trees, yet she kept moving, even as her strength faded.” Her tails flicked slightly, as if the memory itself stirred something deep within her. “She wasn’t fox-kin. She didn’t have our blood or ifts. But even so… we let her in.”

  There was something in the way she spoke, something wistful, something almost reverent. I took a cautious step closer, my eyes searg for her small form.

  “Who was she?” I asked.

  The fox finally turned her gaze to me, her golden eyes glowing softly in the dim light.

  “The one who gave me a name.”

  ? ? ?

  “It’s finally pleted…” With a tired sigh, the crimson witch stepped baire her work. The tent stood sturdy, secured properly despite her long absence from camping. It had taken more effort than she expected, her hands ag slightly from the repetitive motions of driving stakes into the ground and tying knots with practiced precision. She brushed a stray strand of crimson hair from her face, her exhaustioling in like a heavy cloak draped over her shoulders. How long had it been since she st camped outdoors? The crisp air, the open sky, the quiet hum of nature surrounding her, she had almost fotten what it was like. Still, ohing ainfully clear. “I’ve gotten rusty,” she muttered under her breath.

  From the soft grass nearby, a zy voice chimed in. “Good job, meow.” A white-haired catgirl y sprawled out, her limbs stretched in a luxurious sprawl uhe warm afternoon suail flicked idly, its rhythmient matg the gentle sway of the grass around her. Uhe witch, who had spent the better part of an hour struggling with ropes and poles, the catgirl had made no effort to move, her entire existence dedicated to basking in the golden light. The witarrowed her eyes at the sight, irritation bubbling just beh the surface. “The afternoon light is so he catgirl murmured dreamily, rolling onto her side. “Purrfect for a nap.”

  The witch shot her a sharp gre, barely restraining herself from tossing a fireball in her dire. “Remind me again why I haven’t burned you to a crisp yet?” she muttered, pressing her fingers against her temples as if warding off an impending headache. She prided herself on being patient. Out of all her old party members, she had always been the most level-headed, but there was something about cat-kin that mao unravel her posure in record time.

  “Hey, you ’t bme me!” the catgirl shot back, zily flipping onto her stomach, her fluffy ears twitg in amusement. “I’m allergic to work! F a cat to work is a viotion of basic cat rights, you know.” She let out an exaggerated yawn, curliail around herself as if the versation itself was already exhausting her.

  The crimson witch groaned, her fiwitg with the urge tle her panion. “You are unbelievable,” she muttered, crossing her arms tightly against her chest. “I swear, if ziness was a form of magic, you’d be the most powerful being ience.”

  “Mmm, that actually sounds he catgirl mused, tilting her head to gaze at the sky through half-lidded, snow-white eyes. “Queen of Laziness… yeah, I could totally rule that kingdom.”

  The witch raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “A me guess, you’d make napping a mandatory w?”

  “Naturally,” the catgirl purred, a smug smile curling at the ers of her lips. “And every citizen would get unlimited fish and headpats. It would be a utopia.”

  The witch exhaled slowly, pressing a hand to her forehead as if gathering every st ounce of patience she had left. “I really should just set you on fire and be doh it.”

  “But you won’t,” the catgirl said, her voice dripping with amusement as she rolled onto her back, arms stretg above her head in plete satisfa. “Because deep down, you like having me around.”

  The witch scoffed, turning away to hide the small, relut smile tugging at her lips. “More like I tolerate you.”

  “Close enough,” the catgirl hummed, closing her eyes, her entire body sinking into the warmth of the sun-drenched grass. The golden light bathed her in a soft glow, the gentle rustling of leaves whispering around them. And just like that, she was lost to sleep once more, as if the world itself had slowed down to match her pace.

  “My, my, going on a camping trip, are we, dear sister? And without telling me?” A smooth, mature voice drifted from the trees, carrying a pyful lilt. The crimson witch stiffened slightly, her eyes narrowing as she turoward the source of the voice.

  From the shadows of the forest, a figure emerged with effortless grace, her every step precise and deliberate. Draped in flowing violet robes adorned with intricate golden embroidery, she exuded an air of refined fidence. A wide-brimmed purple witch hat rested atop her head, tilted ever so slightly, casting a faint shadow over her sharp, knowing eyes.

  “I was beginning to worry,” she tinued, a teasing smile pying on her lips. “Afraid, even, that my dear little sister had resigned herself to the fate of a good-for-nothing shut-in witch.” She sighed dramatically, pressing a gloved hand against her chest as if the mere thought pained her. “But look at you, braving the great outdoors. How utterly shog.”