(It's a multi pov format, so y'all can read it in other's perspective too)
On 30th July, 2000
THE KUZUNOHA CLAN
The incense in the Shinoda forest estate is thick today, a heavy mix of sandalwood and intense, humid heat of the Japanese summer.
For a thousand years, we have waited.
The Fox did not speak. The tails did not wag.
No true Kitsune was born since Lady Kuzunoha (the very first kitsune born during heian era- 1000-1050AD)
We were the "fading" clan, the scholars of the forest, watching the Zenin and Kamo rot in their own politics.
Then, the cry of a newborn broke the silence of the torii gates. It wasn't a normal baby cry we were used to hear.
"Kiyomi."
The clan head named her, which literally means beauty.
The name was not just a hope, it was an observation.
Porcelain skin. Eyes like dark silk.
But more than that - the weight of the Cursed Energy in the room.
The Kitsune has returned. On July 30th, the heat didn't just bring the sun; it brought back the Heian Era- The golden era of sorcery.
The sibling bond with the Gojo clan will be tested.
The resentment of the Kamo will be felt.
The greed of the Zenin will be drawn to us like moths to a flame.
We must protect the heir.
SATORU GOJO (Age 10)
"A sister?"
I leaned against the cold, polished wood of Gojo Main Hall, staring at the elders who were practically vibrating with anxiety and excitement.
They kept blathering about "ancestral bonds" and "Sugawara no Michizane" and "Abe no Yasuna" and other names I didn't mind hearing.
Annoying.
They treated history like a control tool or just a PR agenda , but to me, it was just a bunch of stories about dead people who weren't nearly as strong as I am.
I was about to walk out, to find some expensive sweets and forget this entire boring meeting, but then i felt it.
Even from here, hundreds of miles far away from the Izumi province.
A flicker, faint but present, alive.
Something completely different from the stagnant, gross energy of the Zenin or the stuffy, metallic scent of Kamo.
It felt like... family?
"So," I whispered to myself, though everyone could hear it, not that I care anyways.
"..the Kuzunoha finally produced something interesting after 1000 years of hiding in the trees."
A cousin.
Kiyomi. The elders had said this name more than their prayers today.
"I'm going to see her," I announced to the elders.
They started to protest, something about protocols and safety and balance about three clans.
I didn't even turn back to look at them nor did I slowed down.
If she's really my "sibling" in blood and bond, she better be strong.
I don't have time for weak family members.
So, don't disappoint me, Kiyomi.
NAOBITO ZENIN
I poured the sake slowly, my eyes tracking the liquid's surface tension.
The news from the Shinoda forest is... troublesome, like a glitch in the projection.
A girl.
Kiyomi Kuzunoha.
So, the "Mystics" have finally woken up
For centuries , we dismissed them as outdated poets.
We watched them retreat into their forest grounds and torii gates, to play with their ink brushes and write poems about the moon.
Those relics of the Heian era who forgot how to swing a blade or exorcise a curse.
But if the rumors of the Nine-Tails are true...if the fox is woken awake again.
Then the balance of the Three Great Clans, which was seen as a stable triangle, easy to manipulate, easy to predict, is dead .
It is the Four now.
A beautiful girl, they say.
To a Zenin, beauty is a secondary trait, strength is the ultimate power, but I've lived long enough to know that beauty is a currency of its own in the political world.
Beauty is a lure, a pretty trap.
"Naoya," I called out, not bothering to turn around.
"Pay attention. The world just got a little more crowded. And in a crowded room, the person who doesn't move fast enough gets trampled. Don't let a 'doll' be the one to kick the chair out from under you."
NAOYA ZENIN (Age 9)
I scoffed, sounding sharp in the quiet room, looking at the report given by the scouts.
Kuzunoha?
The people who spend their days playing with foxes, brushing ink onto silk, and reciting poems? That clan of relics?
It's just a family of soft, pampered aristocrats who had hidden behind their forest barriers for a thousand years because they were too weak to survive the modern era.
And yet, Father, the head of Zenin clan, is making a big deal out of a baby.
"She's a girl, Father. What does it actually matter? Whether she's a Kuzunoha or a commoner from the street, she's still just a girl.", I said with my usual disdain.
In this clan, we know the truth.
If you aren't a man with a weapon or a powerful technique, you're nothing or you're a servant, both are alike anyways.
The Kuzunoha boast about "equality" and "softness." as if it's a cursed technique.
It sounds pathetic.
Though... the reports say she is the most beautiful child ever born to the four clans.
Porcelain skin, black ink like dark eyes-
though that pathetic clan didn't revealed that girl's face, saying it's for safety and conservation.
"Maybe she'll be useful as a bride for a real sorcerer one day," I said, already imagining her bowed at my feet in the Zenin main house.
"Until then, she's just another weakling in a forest. She isn't a "Fourth Clan" heir. She's just a decorative piece of history."
"Don't worry, Father," I added, looking at my own hands, waiting for the day when they would move faster than anyone else. "I'll make sure she knows her place when the time comes. Which is three steps behind a man."
THE KAMO CLAN
The shame is unbearable.
It is a weight that has pressed down on this family for a millennium.
We were the teachers.
We were the undisputed architects of the Rekidō-the flow of the calendar and the alignment of the stars.
We taught the Abe line everything they knew about the stars and the earth.
And how did they repay that divine debt?
By surpassing us in a single generation and then retreating into the Shinoda woods like cowards.
And now, the news has arrived like a slap across the face.
They have an heir.
A girl born just after our children, younger than all of them, even that head's concubine's son - Noritoshi.
The timing is a mockery.
As if the heavens themselves are saying that no matter how hard a Kamo works, no matter how perfectly we maintain our bloodline, the Kuzunoha Natural Genius will always arrive just in time to overshadow the Kamo's Tradition.
"Prepare the carriage," the Head Elder commanded, "We will send a gift to the Izumi province. Make it cold and formal. Use the finest silk, but let the patterns be sharp enough to cut."
We will play the role of the respectful teachers. We will bow, and we will offer our blessings. But we will watch.
If this child falters, we will remind the world who the true masters of ritual are.
We will show them that a Genius is a flickering candle, but "Tradition" is a fire that never goes out.
KIYOMI KUZUNOHA (The Newborn)
The world (nursery) is too loud.
There is the smell of sandalwood and the sound of soft humming, bees? Or birds? I don't know. It sounds pretty.
But everything is blurred.
And I can feel something deep in the center of my chest, something is there, curled up, and it's tickling me.
It isn't a heart, and it isn't a lung, but it breathes when I breathe, maybe faster.
I don't understand the whispers around me
I don't know about clans.
I don't know about "Six Eyes" or "Kitsune" or whatever the people around me are blabbering.
And somewhere, far away...
I feel a spark of energy. It was loud.
And Bright.
A person I haven't met yet.
But i know, I'm not alone in this big, loud, bright, already weird world.
I curl my tiny fingers into a ball, tuck my chin against the soft silk mother has wrapped me in, and let the sleep take me.