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Yugi passed a shrine to Inari every day on his walk to school.
It wasn’t anything like the big fancy shrines in the city, with the huge torii gates and pavilions and legions of Shinto priests. It was a simple stone platform with a kitsune on top, chipping away, overgrown, and missing the little red apron the statues at bigger shrines wore. There was a plaque carved into the stone that had long since worn away, a few indentations all that remained. Yugi couldn’t help feeling a little sad every time he walked by and met eyes with the fox statue. The sacred messenger of Inari, waiting to carry a prayer that no one would make.
He had never been particularly spiritual, so it’s not like he believed there was a kitsune standing guard. Even if he were, shrines to Inari were everywhere, a vast majority of them much more extravagant than this one. Inari Ōkami, if she existed, was in no way wanting for worshippers. She had foxes lining up to read her pages and pages of prayers if tourist numbers counted for anything.
Still, Yugi felt bad for this particular shrine. All alone, forgotten, unmaintained. It probably hadn’t seen an offering in years, if not decades. Hundreds of people must have walked by it every day, but it sat empty and ignored.
After feeling guilty one too many times, Yugi decided to make an offering. He made sure to bring a couple packages of abura-age in his lunch that day—one to hand out on the way to school, and one on the way back. He probably could have left anything, but it was the favorite food of the kitsune messengers, and if they didn’t like the offering, his prayer wouldn’t be sent. Plus, foxes were cute. Who would ever want to make a fox sad?
“Sorry I can’t wash my hands,” he said to the kitsune, unwrapping the gift. Predictably, it didn’t say anything back.
Feeling a little silly, Yugi hurried on with the ritual. After placing the abura-age on the platform below the kitsune, he bowed twice, clapped twice, and went on to pray. That is, until he realized he didn’t have anything to pray about.
Um, he thought. Thanks for protecting this place, even though no one notices you anymore. Except me, I guess. Sorry for not making an offering until now. That’s it.
He bowed again and shuffled awkwardly. The kitsune statue sat motionless, staring off into the distance. Yugi hurried down the street.
The offering slipped out of his mind as the day went on and classwork took priority of his thoughts. In fact, he forgot all about it until his walk home, passing by the little shrine again. Elated, he saw that the abura-age from the morning had disappeared. It might have been carried off by an animal or taken by a person, but he suspended his disbelief. The offering had worked! Yugi rushed to place the second one, now with a more concrete thing to pray about.
I have a math test on Friday, he thought, so if Inari wouldn’t mind giving me a little prosperity and success to pass it, that would be really nice.
This time, Yugi smiled at the kitsune statue. “Enjoy the tofu,” he told it, and went on his way with a smile on his face.
That was supposed to be it—a single day of showing thanks—but now that he’d prayed about his math test, Yugi reasoned it would only be fair to bring offerings throughout the week. At least until his test was over, to increase the chance he’d get the prosperity he asked for. A little extra help would never hurt, and they had plenty of abura-age at the house. Nobody would notice if they ran out a little faster than usual.
For the next three days, Yugi brought offerings for the little Inari shrine, thanking it for its protection and asking for prosperity. The abura-age he left had always vanished by the time he came to leave the next one, without a crumb left behind. If an animal was taking them, it sure was careful.
As the week went on, he found his classwork a lot easier to handle. Like an invisible person guided his hand, Yugi wrote answers almost before he thought of them, mindlessly solving equations and scribbling down short-form responses. Even his friends noticed.
“Hey, Yug’,” Jou asked him on the third day during lunch, “what’s your secret?”
“Secret?” Yugi replied.
“Come on, we’re both terrible at math, but you’ve been getting way higher scores than me this week. What’s up with that?”
“Maybe he actually studies,” Anzu said.
“Nah, that’s not it.”
“Hey!” Yugi protested. “I study sometimes.”
“Okay, so what’s the secret? You have to be doing something different.”
“I don’t know, it’s just been easy for me lately.”
“Can we not talk about school,” Honda said, “when we’re supposed to be having a break?”
“Good point,” Jou said, and pointed to Yugi’s lunch. “Are you going to eat that?”
The second package of abura-age fell under his scrutiny. Yugi snatched it up. “No, I need this.”
“For what?”
“I pass an Inari shrine on my way to school. I’ve been leaving it offerings and stuff.” He sat up in realization. “Maybe that’s why I’ve been so good at math?”
Honda stared. “Really?”
“Duh!” Jou smacked his forehead. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“You’re going to pray before you try studying?” Anzu asked.
“Well it’s working out for Yug’.”
“I didn’t know you believed in that stuff,” Honda said.
Yugi could only shrug. “I don’t know, maybe it’s making me feel more confident. Fake help is still help.”
“And I need all the help I can get,” Jou said. “I want in on these shrine blessings.”
Everyone else chimed in that they could use a little extra prosperity, so after school, Yugi took them all down to the shrine. His abura-age from that morning was gone, as usual, leaving plenty of room for all four of them to place new offerings. Little bits of rice leftover from lunch, a few loose coins, and the second package of abura-age. They all bowed, clapped, and quietly shared their prayers.
Thanks for making my classwork easier this week, Yugi thought. If you can keep it up for a couple more days, I’d really appreciate it.
“I don’t feel any smarter,” Jou said, once they were on their way.
“Did you pray to feel smarter?” Honda asked.
“Nah, I asked for better gacha pulls.”
Anzu groaned, “What about that would make you smarter?”
“I don’t know, Yugi’s all smart now!”
Yugi could only laugh, both at his friend’s antics and out of genuine pride. That little Inari shrine was a lot less lonely. It had more offerings than ever before, all because he wanted to pass a math test.
I think I’ll bring something special on Friday, he thought. Whether or not he passed his math test, that kitsune deserved it after doing its best to help.
True to his word, when Friday rolled around, Yugi made sure to pack something extra special. He left the usual abura-age in the morning, promising to bring the second gift after school. All the way to school, he crossed his fingers, praying to every kami he could name that he would pass this test.
Sitting in the classroom with the test on his desk, dead silent but for the scratching of pencils and occasional sniffing, Yugi had never been more confident about the answers he wrote down. All his paranoid second-guessing and episodes where his brain went blank had vanished, paving the way for him to be the fifth person in the room to walk his finished test to the instructor. The instant he sat back down at his desk, a swoop of exhaustion coursed through his limbs. It was over. He did it.
He was so relieved to be done with it, he almost forgot about the results. At the end of the period, the instructor passed back their tests, row by row. Yugi’s eyes bugged out of his skull when he saw the big red “A” at the top of the page.
When school was over, he almost ran to the shrine, too excited to care about looking stupid. He skidded to a halt in front of the kitsune statue, whipped his bento out of his backpack, and presented his special offering wrapped in a little red cloth.
“Told you I’d bring something special,” he said to it, setting it at the kitsune’s feet and unwrapping the gentle knot.
Inside the cloth sat three Inarizushi, fried-tofu corners pointed like a fox’s ears. Another favorite food of the kitsune and named for Inari herself. Yugi bowed deep, a grin plastered to his face.
“I passed my math test today,” he blurted, unable to keep his prayers in his head this time. “Thank you so much for the prosperity and success.”
“You’re welcome.”
Yugi stumbled back so fast he fell over. He landed on his back in the dirt, staring shocked at the Inari shrine, and the person who had suddenly appeared. A teenage boy crouched on the platform of the shrine, impressively balanced and smiling.
“How did you—?” Yugi stuttered.
The boy put his chin in his hand. “How did I what?”
“How did you get up there? Without me noticing you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you weren’t paying attention.”
Yugi frowned a little. Apart from being unnecessarily rude, there were more senses than sight. Surely if someone had jumped onto the shrine, he would have heard it. How did he do it so quietly? Why jump on the shrine at all? And why did he take credit for the math test?
Before he could decide which question to ask first, Yugi saw the boy pick up one of the Inarizushi and lift it toward his open mouth.
“That’s an offering,” Yugi said.
The boy stopped, looking down at him. “I know.”
“So… don’t eat it? Please?”
He raised a brow and smirked. Slowly, he set the Inarizushi back down and rose to his feet, standing like the pedestal was meant for him. “You’re the one who’s been leaving these all week, right?”
“Yes.” Yugi thought of another question. “How did you know that?”
“I don’t know.” The boy dropped off the platform with fluid grace, crouching in the grass where Yugi once stood. “Maybe I’ve been paying attention.”
“What does that m-mean?”
The boy started to crawl forward, and Yugi hiccupped to silence. He wanted to move, to stand up, to get away from this very weird person, but found himself paralyzed by eye-contact. The boy didn’t take his eyes off Yugi once, getting closer and closer, until they were inches apart.
“I like you,” he said.
“Thanks?” Yugi squeaked.
“You’re nice.” The boy touched his shoulder. “Not a lot of people are nice. More people should be like you.”
Yugi had no idea what was going on. He couldn’t speak, could hardly breathe, razor focused on the fingers playing with the strap of his backpack. On the narrow-shaped face so close to his own, thin eyebrows framing close-set wine-red eyes, high cheekbones and a little smile. Fox-faced, he thought blearily.
Wait.
“What are you doing here?” Yugi asked.
“Nothing,” the boy said. “I guess I’m hungry.”
That didn’t answer his question in the slightest, but he soon lost control of his ability to talk again. The boy scooted even closer, taking both his shoulders and pressing their foreheads together. Yugi’s heart jumped into his throat.
“I’m hungry,” the boy repeated lowly. “And you’re nice.”
Yugi didn’t have butterflies—he had a beehive. His mind raced trying to piece together the situation. Was this it? Was this how he’d have his first kiss? Who was this guy? What was going on? The boy trailed his eyes down, running his hands down Yugi’s arms.
And stole his backpack.
Yugi startled as the boy ripped the backpack off his arms and into his lap, flipping it open and tearing through the contents.
“Hey!” Yugi shouted, lunging for the bag. “Give that back!”
The boy didn’t so much as look at him, greedily searching every pocket. When he found what he was looking for, he abandoned the backpack wholeheartedly, letting Yugi snatch it out of his arm to covet his prize: an empty bento box.
“Aww,” the boy said, frowning when he discovered the lack of contents.
“What is wrong with you?” Yugi demanded. He snatched the bento back and reassembled his thoroughly-rifled backpack.
The boy folded his arms and pouted. “I said I’m hungry.”
“Yeah, well you didn’t have to—”
In his indignation, Yugi caught the shrine above the boy’s shoulder. It stole his breath more than anything that happened that week. The kitsune statue was missing.
“Hey,” he started, “are you—”
But the boy was gone. In his place, a pure white fox. Yugi watched in awe as the fox scampered up to the shrine, took a piece of Inarizushi in its mouth, and darted off across the street. He scrambled to his feet to chase after it, but it disappeared into the bushes without a trace.
When he turned around, the shrine’s kitsune statue was back.
Yugi kept leaving offerings at the shrine, abura-age with an occasional Inarizushi treat if he needed a big favor. He never saw the fox again, not even after weeks and months of offerings, giving thanks, and blessings of prosperity.
But, if he turned around at just the right time, he saw a boy sitting on the shrine where the kitsune statue should be, kicking his feet and eating fried tofu.