There's a park map displayed on the e-board outside the Emerald Grove park gates. To you, a person coming from Selene Avenue, the gates near the e-board would be the Eastern Gates. According to the map, to hit your apartment in Chiho Street through the Western Gates, the shortest path would be the one along the diameter of the circular park. You pull out the phone in your coat pocket and snap a quick picture of the map for further reference. The time is five P.M., a rather unusual exit time for you.

You ignore the long line of notifications popping up on the upper bar. You're surprised by the Chatterbug app's tolerance to drunken spamming when you see Sienna's name floating near a whopping forty five. You switch off and drop the phone into your coat pockets.

She'll probably delete them once she wakes up, she usually does, you think. Mom's going to be dejected to see her in this state when she comes here. Her star-student and head chef back at Hausenhoff wasting herself away on champagne. I wonder if she remembers how she had taught me to shell shrimps? Ah, the good old days.

You wait for the sweetcorn kernels in your corn-plastic cup to cool down as you queue up before the ticket-booths. Three long lines of people are seperated by stainless steel stanchions, connected to each other with thinner steel bars. You stir the hot kernels and inhale the scent of oregano, chilli, salt and butter. It has been one week since the whole punching in the stomach incident. The nursing student living in the apartment opposite to yours had upbraided you for not getting to a hospital after the blunt trauma.

The clouds overhead rain on, spraying snow on everything, like a child armed with a whole jar of powdered sugar does on its cookies. Couples interlocking arms, families eager for their outdoor reunions, hobos looking for a place to sleep for the night and so on line before you.

A baby peeks over the shoulder of woman standing in your immediate front. Drool drips from its mouth onto their mother's fur hoodie. It gives you a twin-toothed smile and waves its chubby arms at you. You cross your eyes and stick out your tongue. When you wiggle it, the baby bursts into giggles that shake its little frame. The mother looks over her shoulder and catches you doing your antics. You blush and continue stirring your corn, deciding to focus on the people up ahead. Your stomach now sports a red bruise after the blow underneath all the layers of clothing. You resist the urge to rub it as per the nursing student's instruction.

You dig your coat pockets for a five mirre coin when you reach the ticket booth. Once you pull it out, you re-check the capital M and the five on one side and the coat of arms on the other. The platinum blonde ticket-lady at the booth smiles at you as you slide the nickel coin across the smooth wood. You can see features of the ancient Aelvenfolk in her, in the tapering tips of her ears and the lavender undertones of her white locks. She rips a yellow ticket off the machine and hands it over to you.

"Welcome to the Emerald Glades Shrine and Park. Enjoy you time here!"

"Yeah, hi," you begin. "Can I buy a daily pass ticket?"

The lady replies,

"I'm sorry, we don't have those in here. You'll have to buy a new ticket each time you cross the park. Thank you, and do visit us again."

With that, she ushers in the couple standing behind you. You shrug at no one in particular and walk ahead. The guard at the secondary gates stands a full head or two taller than you. He tears one end of the ticket and returns it to you, repeating a greeting similar to the one conveyed by the ticket booth girl.

The walkways are made of interlocking red bricks, on whose sides grew tall patches of Verdish mountain-froth tulips and lilies. There are costly orbs and Junhic lanterns hung on posts and peach tree branches, interconnected with strings of blue coloured flags. You shovel corn into your mouth and refer to the picture of the park map on your phone. The red line was indeed the diameter of the circular park. Licensed food-stalls selling wisps of fluffy cotton candy, marshmallow ducks the size of actual ducklings and other delicacies line the road on either side. At the end of the avenue of trees and stalls, the shrine of the Junhic water goddess rises from the middle of an artificial pond.

There's the bustle and laughter of children playing in the fortress themed jungle gyms. Swings and merry-go-rounds creak as they move. Your nose picks up spicier scents and your mouth waters as you find yourself in the midst of several fast food stalls. A cool breeze shakes the branches of the tree, making the lanterns on them oscillate. You dig into the corn in your cup and head towards the shrine. You're almost at the other end of the park; all you have to do is cross two bridges and an island.

The white shrine is designed like an oriental gazebo, with rainwater collectors shaped like their dragons. Four curved wooden bridges connect it to the land. In the pond below is a sprawling field of water hyacinths, each plant floating on the water surface with proud and beautiful violet flowers. You bend over and glimpse the lithe bodies of koi fish swimming between the bunched roots. The sky is darkening into the night rather quickly, its pleasant orange tint now fading into a deep cornflower blue.

There are shrine-people sweeping the bridges and the shrine, dressed in plain teal and white robes. Some of them were pouring fertilizer into the pond, while others kneeled to the water, throwing food granules to the wriggling kois. There are flags and lanterns being hung on golden fairy lights around the roof and the pillars. You're the only stranger to the goddess in here, you notice as you see a grandfather and his legacy bowing to her.

When the man falls to his knees, the confused child looks around and follows. They tilt their heads, letting their noses touch the tips of their folded palms. You skirt the outer edges of the gazebo, staying as far off as possible from the shrine interiors.

The devotees are bowing to an ornate hexagonal pillar, about a meter tall and with sharp edges. Behind it is a painting of the smiling goddess, her lovely face framed on the left by her delicately decorated hand-fan. She wears a crown of silver and hyacinth blooms on her head and her robes blend with ease into the pale furs of the nine-tailed fox at her feet. The white fox spirit looks ethereal with its black and red lined eyes and the golden markings swirling on its body. The Beauty and the Beast, you tell your mind. You mentally applaud the artist's skill in drawing such lifelike eyes; it feels as if they are watching you eat corn from the picture.

A gentle tap on your shoulders attracts your attention to the shrine-maiden standing by you. She tucks a black hair-strand behind her protruding ears and grips the handle of the broom tighter.

"No eat inside shrine, please," she manages in a small voice.

The broom soon finds itself under pressure from both her hands as she waits for your reply. You notice that her ears are as red as her nose and that she keeps her gaze on your sneakers. She repeats her message in broken Verdish, her voice gaining an edge to it this time around. You do the rational thing and drop your head in a deep bow, as to apologise. The girl gasps and jumps back; hushed talk in Junhic fill the air and you realise that you had bowed a bit too hard. You hear the uneasy taps of her clogs against the wooden gazebo floor as you straighten. She looks around at the other shrine-people, who are stubborn to keep their distance and watch the interaction. You mentally sulk as you catch a few Verdish words in some of the whispers circulating amongst the onlookers. The girl holds her stance in defense, and for a second, you fear that she would thwack you on the head with the broom.

The grandfather steps in to save the both of you from the situation.

"Child, she wants you to step out of the shrine and finish your meal. It is disrespectful to the goddess' sacred relic that you eat in her presence without offering her Tseni er. . . her messenger fox spirit, Haruhiko the first bite."

"I'm s-sorry, sir," you stammer as your brain finally processes the message and sends the signals to your quivering knees. You speed walk out of the gazebo, spoon rattling within the cup like a violent bell. Onlookers are confused by your mad marathon to hit the other gate and are generous with their exclamations and curses. You stop to catch your breath and sit down on a wooden park bench. There is an e-board near the bench with a huge list of rules for those who wish to visit the shrine, you notice. Your eyes immediately zero in on the rule that had gotten you into trouble. [ DO NOT BRING EATABLES OR EAT WITHIN SHRINE PREMISES ] it says, right below the [ DO NOT FEED ANY FOX THAT YOU MAY ENCOUNTER WITHIN THE PARK ] rule.

The temple girl at the gazebo is watching you, despite her lips feeding the curiosity of the others. There's a hint of a droop in her face as she is left alone to sweep the floors, and she keeps taking little peeks at you through her black bangs. You scrape the bottom of the cup for one final spoonful of the corn. You feel something soft brushing against your pants and you look below you.

It's your old friend, the fox from the trash can again, sliding out of the bushes. You smile as the fox takes its position below the e-board and gives you its own version of the puppy eyes. You know very well that it's staring at the corn. As if to confirm your doubts, the fox licks its black lips and issues a little bark. Children stop to point at the fox, but are dragged away by the scared adults.

You remember a newspaper report stating the rising cases of rabies in Shikagami, transmitted via stray foxbite. Nice, big photos of the animal rights activists holding rallies to save the stray foxes from euthanasia had made the headlines. You remember your dad laughing about the absurdity of the animal rights activists over dinner with your family. You remember him saying that if those 'animal loving' people had not fed the foxes or had stopped throwing their leftovers in the forests because of their 'animal love', then the foxes wouldn't have entered human settlements seeking food.

In a way, he had said, the innocent foxes were attracted by careless humans themselves who had showed them an easier food source. Your little friend cocks its head and decides to lie down. It borders its body with its voluminous tail, yawning then licking its paws. You look at the spoonful of corn and at the fox. The girl at the gazebo has moved over the bridge to the other side and the area around you is nearly empty. Deep blue fairy lights hang from the trees around you, giving you a feel of being alone in a mystical ice cave with a magical fox. You chuckle as your fancy turns the fox in front of you into the 'Tseni' from the painting. A magnificent celestial beast waiting for a spoonful of mortal corn, with all nine of its tails spread like a peacock's open train.

Your dad's warning echoes within your head and you snap out of your little daydream. The e-board sign agrees with him wholeheartedly.

｡:ﾟ.*･

｡:ﾟ.*･So, what will you do?｡:ﾟ.*･

If your motto is to FEED THE FOXES, then ready your spoon and go to chapter 7.

If you're going to listen to your dad and the e-board saying DON'T FEED THE FOXES, go to chapter 8.

｡:ﾟ.*･

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