The trio walked past moss-covered trees with casual strides. Ali was humming something, though it was hard to tell exactly what. Josh was smiling, his thoughts drifting between memory, Kim’s story, and the future. Clarise was quiet, not sullen or pensive, just quiet.

As they walked, Ali drifted back to her friend’s side. “Penny f’r ‘em, Clarise.”

Clarise looked up and smiled slightly. “Your Gran’s tale helped me get a handle on what ya said before Tommy popped up. I screwed up, missin' info or not. That’s on me an’ I need to do better. But not beat up on myself. Yer my friend an’ ya’ve shown me what that means.” Her smile broadened. “I’m honoured by that, more now than in high school. I just needed to put my fuck up in perspective and in the past, not let it eat me.”

Ali’s ears and tails twitched in joy. “Good on ya.”

Josh’s voice was casual. “So, yer lookin’ f’r where answers may be, Sis?”

“In part, Bro. I’ve also missed the family an’ friends here.” Her tails waved lazily. “Even before,” she gestured vaguely at herself. “I’d think about you two, Ma an’ Pa, this place. I wanted t’ visit, but travel wasn’t a real option. Just kept tellin’ myself ‘later’.” She skipped slightly, reminding Josh of when they were seven. “Later’s here now, just other things jumped onto the to-do-list.”

“What do you think your Great-Grandmother Misha will have to tell you? Somethin’ like what your Grandmother Kim passed on?”

“I dunno Clarise. But we’re ‘bout to find out.” She gestured at the stilt house they had almost reached.

As they approached, Ali lagged behind taking in the scents. Jasmin, ginseng, ginger, and something earthy she couldn’t quite place. She followed Josh and Clarise up the front stairs, stopping in the entryway. Great-Granma Misha had insisted long, long ago that there be a sunken mudroom there, and that folks change into slippers—no tracking mud or gunk in. Her ears flicked as she looked at her mud-spattered mukluks.

She then looked at the cubby holes lining the walls. It took her a minute, but she found the slippers she had left behind. She was mildly surprised the faded green things were still there. She then mentally triggered a change in the mukluks. They shifted up her legs, becoming clean leather shin wraps. She then started to put on her old, human-foot shaped slippers. She could see a slight pine-green glow as they rearranged themselves for her paws. A slight grip to the sole, reinforced padding under her claws, a tight fit up the shanks of her feet. Once she was done, her tails fluffed slightly in satisfaction. She then stepped quietly into her Great-Granma's home.

She quietly walked down the entrance hallway towards the doorway to the living room. Her ear twitched, listening to the conversation in that room. She paused, staring at an old print hanging at the end of the hall. It was a print she’d seen many, many times. But something had changed.

—«Great-Granma Misha’s Living Room»—

Misha had looked up as Josh and Clarise entered the room. A smile creasing her time-worn face. “Joshua! Clarise! I wasn’t expecting to see you before dinner.” Her voice was low with a slight crackle, like old parchment being folded. She stood slowly from the low table she had been sitting at.

“I know Granny Misha, but somethin’s happened… Ali’s visitin’ an’—” Josh didn’t get any farther as Misha drew herself up to her full five-foot four-inch height and poked him in the torso.

“Don’t be joking around like that, Joshua. She’s settled out in Seattle, every letter your mother has shown me points to it. So don’t you be joking.”

“But he ain’t, ma’am. Ali’s here, an’ she’s—” She froze as Misha’s sharp brown eyes locked on her.

“Child, I have told you before, you can call me Granny or Granny Misha like Josh does. Just don’t be so formal.”

Clarise nodded, not trusting herself to speak at the moment.

“And where is my wayward great-granddaughter? If she’s visiting, then why isn’t she in here with you?”

Ali’s voice came from the hallway. “Well, I had a moment dealing with my old slippers, Great-Granma. An’ now I’m lookin' at what should be yer fave print yer pa was able to bring with you when ya left Japan. But it’s different, changed.”

“No, it isn’t, Mudbug. It’s the same as when you left.”

Ali ears flattened slightly, lips curling, muscles along her snout tensing. She hated that nickname. Absolutely loathed it. She’d been playing outside when she was eight. There had been a sudden storm, but she didn’t care, she had been having fun. By the time she had gotten home she had been mud-spattered head to toe. Misha’s voice had been sharp when she entered the house, gunk dripping on the floor. “By all that’s right, you’re making more of a mess that a mudbug you little hellion.” It became Misha’s go to when admonishing or deriding Ali. That hurt was still there, and it caused her hackles to rise and her breath to momentary catch.

“曾祖母フォーレン・ミサよ、そんな言い逃れは許されない。” There was a bite to her words. “私が去った時、狐の精霊は尻尾が二つ、耳は小さく、顔にも手にも毛は生えていなかった。髪は真っ黒で、白い着物を着て、顔の前に陶器の仮面を掲げていた。

“今は西洋風のコルセットとミントグリーンのドレスを着て、髪はウェーブして赤く、全身に毛が生え、仮面は脱ぎ捨て、尻尾は六つある。”

[Translation of Ali’s statements in Japanese: “Great-Grandmother Foalen Misa, you do not get to play that deflection.” - “When I left the fox-spirit had two tails, small ears, and no fur on her face or hands. Her hair was straight and black. And she was wearing a white kimono and holding a porcelain mask in front of her face.

 “Now she wears a Western style corset and dress in mint green, her hair is wavy and red, is fully furred, has discarded the mask, and has six tails."]

Josh almost cringed at Misha’s dismissive statement. Mudbug. Damn, I remember Sis hatin’ that with a passion. Granny’s stirin’ somethin’ raw—Bright Lady, Sis is bitin’ back. Don’t know Japanese, but that rasp an’ burn in her voice, Ali’s done. Done with takin’ it and this is her pushin’ back, the fox layin’ claim t’ truth.

For her part, Clarise just stilled, her eyes slightly widened. That tone, that nickname cut her, deep. I can’t see her thru the door, but I can imagine her, ears back an’ tails rigid. Spirits, she usin' Japanese, don’t know the words, but they’re as sharp as a knife, an’ the tone… that chills me. I know defiance when I hear it, an’ Ali’s lettin’ loose on her great-grandmother. Tellin’ her this ain’t the child she remembers, but an Arbiter speakin’.

For Misha’s part, she blinked then frowned. As she stalked to the door she replied in an offended tone. “アリソン、あなたは年上の人たちにそんな風に話さないで。絶対に！ここは私の家です。マナーには気を付けてください…” Her voice faded as she swung open the door and found Ali staring down at her, her ears back, and the slightest flicker of orange foxfire in her eyes.

[You do not talk like that to your elders, Alison. Ever! This is my home, and you will mind your mann… ers…]

“You were sayin’, Great Granma?” Ali had crossed her arms.

Misha’s jaw had dropped, and her eyes had widened. “…kitsune…” the word was barely audible.

“Yes.” Ali held her gaze.

Misha’s eyes flicked across Ali, taking in what was before her. They lingered on the slippers on the fox-woman’s paws, their fabric, in recognition. Then back to her eyes, a mix of orange flame and her great-granddaughter's piercing green. “…Alison?”

“Also, yes.”

“When… how… why?”

“When did the print change?”

Misha looked puzzled for a moment before answering. “Nakano Kitsu’s robes started to change colour in mid-June of last year.”

It was Ali’s turn to look surprised, her tails stilling. “Kitsu…? Granma Misha, you’ve said that the print was somethin’ from your hometown in Japan. That wouldn't have been Sawara, would it?”

Misha nodded. “That it was. We left when I was two. We arrived in San Francisco a year later. But, but how do you know that name Ali?”

Ali was stunned, her ears loose and tails limp. Then she started chuckling. She sank to her knees, and it became a full-throated laugh.

Misha watched, dumbfounded. Josh and Clarise exchanged worried glances before Josh knelt beside his sister.

“Sis, are you ok?”

She leaned forward, bowing until her forehead touched the floorboards. Slowly the laughter died and Josh barely caught her soft words. “Bright Lady, Quiet Lady, Sweet Lady, thank you. I had asked you ‘why me’ after releasing Kitsu’s soul. Now I know, she was of Sawara and tied to me through my Great-Granma Misa. Different realities, different worlds, but the connection resonated. Thank you for helping me find this understanding.” 

Josh blinked. She’s talking about the kitsune soul she rescued. He smiled slightly. Seems it’s helpin’ her relax a bit. Good.

Clarise turned her head slightly, straining to hear her friend’s words. She’s givin’ thanks, I think. Spirits, I don’t think I’ve seen tension evaporate like that just from understanding. And her posture, it’s like when she was talkin’ with Grandmother Kim—humility, respect, honesty.

Misha had collected herself enough to hold a neutral expression, but her mind whirled. This is my great-granddaughter? I see her eyes, hear her voice, her laugh, and feel her earnestness. This is Alison. But her form, the reverence she shows, the talk of rescuing someone’s soul—this is more than she was. Her eyes glance to the print hanging in the hallway. Or is it?

Slowly Ali sat back up, her tails curling around her. Her hands were clasped in her lap and her head bowed, muzzle close to her chest.

Misha knelt in front of her, hands on her thighs. She looked intently at the person in front of her. Her voice came softly. “It sounds as if the years since you left have been, well interesting, Alison.”

Ali nodded, her head rising until she met Misha’s gaze. “They have Great-Granma. From wonderful to harrowin' and most things between.” She glanced to her side, smiling at Josh. “An’ yeah Bro, I’m ok. Feelin’ a little better, actually.”

Josh smiled as he repositioned himself, sitting rather than kneeling on the floor. “Good t’ hear.”

Misha smiled slightly then asked, “Is that when you learned Japanese, or…?”

“It’s ancestral knowledge, Granma. When I came home for the first time, when my body matched my soul, it was the first o’ four languages that I found I knew intrinsically—Japanese, Korean, Chinese, Vietnamese.” She paused, thinking over things. “Initially, I thought it was just to do with the nature of fox-spirits. But now, now I’m thinkin’ it may be more complicated than that.”

“How so?” Curiosity laced Misha’s question, her head tilted slightly.

“After talking with Granma Kim and you, I think it may also be bound up in blood.”

Clarise, unable to help herself, asked, “Fēn’s legacy an’ your shared connection to Kitsu by Sawara? That sounds solid from what I’ve been taught. Mambo Kalli has drilled that in t’ me—the past echoes down blood.”

Ali nodded her agreement.

“So, Granddaughter, what are your plans now?”

Ali sighed softly. “I’m not altogether sure. I need to take some time and think. Relax a bit, maybe listen for the cicadas.”

Josh smiled slightly. “Then you’ll be hangin’ round for a bit?”

Ali nodded, closing her eyes. “A bit, yeah.” She breathed softly and was quiet for a beat or two. “An’ Granma, c’n ya do me a big favour?”

“And what would that be, Alison?”

“Please, never call me ‘mudbug’ again. I love you dearly, but that’s… it hurts, bad.”

Misha blinked then nodded. “I understand, Alison. The tone of your voice from the hallway had been, well sharper than I expected. Japanese or not, it wasn’t crestfallen as before — not quite angry, but defiantly pissed. I will no longer refer to you as that, and I’ll try to avoid calling you dismissive names.”

Ali leaned forward and hugged the old woman. “おばあちゃん、ありがとう。本当に、本当にありがとう。”

[Thank you, Granma. Thank you so very, very much.]

“どういたしまして、お子様…私の孫娘キツネちゃん。” Misha replied, returning the hug then sitting back.

[You're welcome, child… my granddaughter-fox.]