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This is a bit of fic I'm writing regarding the off-hours of the all-kitsune Pathfinder group; hopefully it's accessible and if you've found this thread, you'll find it an enjoyable read!
Still working out characterization for those who are not my own PCs (so, everyone but Hiiragi) as well as Hiiragi herself, but this is actually something of a way to explore that myself! Due to recent developments, I've been driven to explore more of the way she interacts with others.
Anyway, feel free to comment if you'd like, and regardless, here we go!
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It had been a dry season in Minkai.
Draughts came with several upsides and downsides, but more of the latter by far. A draught often meant a choice between dying of thirst now or starvation later; lean times called for desperate measures, and desperate measures always had to be paid later on.
And so it was that the Pathfinder society had chosen Hiiragi for their latest contract in the Empire of Dawn, with a loose date of return. Naturally, with Hiiragi came the other five, and just as naturally, they were happy to assist her for the time being.
Well, "happy" was relative. When Hiiragi had relayed what she saw as the more important reason for their journey, Itami had scoffed, but these days, his disdainful snort was always followed by a playful smile that made his mustache bristle against his human nose. Hiiragi was never entirely certain whether the surly old man's improved demeanor was due to a closeness to the group or a more general change of heart.
She supposed one could follow the other, and thus made no matter of it.
Toshiko, meanwhile, had not actually been assigned to the mission. Rather, seeking further and further ports to evade the Society's clutches, she had forced upon herself a thirst for sake that could only be sated by drinking it straight from where it was made best.
So it was that she had sat herself down at an izakaya in Oda, having been there for only ten minutes before a pair of familiar faces-- her own, in fact-- had walked in, searching for their identical triplet. Toshiko had knocked over her table in her haste to get away, but Hiiragi and Sionnach had cheerfully dragged her off to an adventure that she would not forget for nearly six hours.
When Hiiragi later attempted to recruit her to assist with the draught, Toshiko had had some colorful language for her. Hiiragi suspected she would be spewing further colors before the night was through, but determined that this was not her business.
And so it was that the five of them found themselves in Oda's paddy fields, Itami resting his hands between the top of his walking staff and his chin as he watched with some curiosity from the slope with the others.
In truth, Hiiragi found it a little odd to have everyone's attention like this. Ikari, of course, was her pupil in the Daikitsun faith, and joined her on the other side of the terrace; he had recently been given his own badge of office-- so to speak, anyway, as Minkai's approach to religion had always been a little less structured than, say, Abadar's. Kenta, meanwhile, was unusually attentive, and Onna...
Onna had been looking at her more, lately. Or perhaps Hiiragi was just imagining that. It was easy to imagine; her own thoughts had been drifting toward the Shelynite of late, and when the Daikitsun maiden had heard her singing to herself in the next cabin on the long voyage, she had pressed her ear against the wood between them. A stolen song, she had thought at the time, but her voice is too sweet for me to stop drinking it in.
"O Blessed Daikitsu," the priestess began, interlocking her thumbs, "This land has not seen rain in three moons. Please, bless us with Your rains; let the earth swell with abundance and feed Your people and those whose community we share."
She raises her hands high, fingers spread, thumbs together: nine tails, held high against the sun.
Ikari raises his own on the opposite end of the plot; like rain, water rose from their fingertips; sprinkles as first, and swiftly growing to a miniature deluge.
It took nearly fifteen minutes, but Hiiragi was quite used to her arms being sore in service to her Goddess; farming did not yield skinny limbs, and most of it had to be done without divine intervention.
She flicked the last droplets of water off of her fingertips and looked out over the fields. About a dozen were already irrigated through Her power, but there were many more to go.
"Does it have to be the same prayer every time?"
Hiiragi turned to look at the old man, a playful condescension on his face.
"It just seems to me like hearing the same tired prayer eleven times in a row would make me send the water slower so I didn't have to hear it a twelfth time so soon."
Self-consciously, the miko dipped the brim of her conical hat and folded her arms. "Grandfather, it has been this way for--"
He waved her off. "Traditions, yes, yes. Your goddess implores you to create fine tools and farm fine crops and bore fine old men to death with fine recitations. At least the Shelynite mixes it up a little."
"Favor us with a song, then, and quit complaining, would you?" cut Onna as a grin pushed her cheeks up. Itami turned away with a "bah," waving a hand dismissively from atop his staff.
"I'm still worried the rice will drown," piped Kenta. "But it's for the weeds, right?"
"We all thrive in different environments; isn't that right, Sensei?"
Ikari was already taking his place at the next terrace. He had been a Daikitsun long before he had met Hiiragi; still, she did not mind him looking up to her so, and being able to more finely explain the mysteries that lay beyond the basic tenets had been satisfying.
Still, they were not without their occasional bristle. Ikari had been raised amidst the Free Foxes, or so folk like them had taken to calling themselves-- shameless tricksters who delighted in finding new pranks, both harmless and devastating. His disdain for them had grown further and further until either a line was crossed or the straw had piled too high upon the camel for comfort.
Hiiragi's introduction to him-- in the guise of the Master of Scrolls himself, no less, taking the entire group's tab upon "his" own-- had thus put her on interesting footing. Regardless, they had managed to find a common ground quite quickly. Perhaps putting down an aggressive minotaur in an enlarged tag-team had been a part of it; a simple farming flail and an elegant elven spear, many-branched and jingling with blades, side-by-side in destruction.
As it stood, Hiiragi was careful to avoid letting the burden of her pranks fall on him.
She gazed out over the fields; there were many to go, if this area's harvest was to come to fruition, but the nine-tailed birthmark on her forehead had gone past being shiny with sweat and was now at fear of drowning.
"I think it may be time for a lunch break."
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Lunch had been a mistake.
Sure, one would, naturally, be expected to eat lunch. One might even be expected to enjoy it.
But she had underestimated her feelings... and Onna's unfamiliarity with Minkaian cuisine.
Hiiragi, thinking herself clever, had offered to bring the group to her favorite vendor, an old friend who had lived outside the Daikitsun shrine she was once a novice at and now lived in the area. He specialized in tofu and rice dishes, and especially Daikitzushi.
She had not expected Onna's unfamiliarity with the items, and when a plate loaded with the small, rice-stuffed pouch of fried tofu was placed before them, Hiiragi beaming with excitement at sharing her favorite snack with her best friends, she was wholly unprepared for Onna to pick one up, flip it rice-side-up, and scoop out the grains with her tongue, leaving the pouch behind.
Hiiragi spent the rest of the meal avoiding eye contact and trying not to look at her Daikitzushi in a way she had not previously considered.