Foxfire (Nine Tails, 1) Read online

  Hiro didn’t think anything could amaze him more than his brother’s revelation that their family’s prosperity comes from the favor of the kami Inari. Yet Hiro soon learns that Inari’s kitsune, fox spirits who act as messengers, watch over his family in exchange for yearly tribute—and this year, Hiro has been requested as an offering by one of the mysterious fox spirits. Hiro’s brother takes him to a strange mansion one night, and Hiro is left at the mercy of Masaki Kitamura, who has yet to reveal what he has planned for his young visitor…

  Foxfire

  Nine Tails, Book One

  by

  Yuki Edo

  M/M SEX, RIMMING

  Twisted Erotica Publishing, Inc.

  www.twistederoticapublishing.com

  A TWISTED EROTICA PUBLISHING BOOK

  Foxfire, Nine Tails, Book One

  Copyright © 2014 by Yuki Edo

  First E-book Publication: October 2014, SMASHWORDS EDITION

  Cover design by K Designs

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2014, Twisted Erotica Publishing.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  Some Definitions

  Inari – the Japanese kami (god) of foxes, fertility, prosperity, success, rice, tea, and sake. May appear male, female, or androgynous

  Izanami – (she who invites) a kami of both creation and death, as well as the former wife of the kami Izanagi

  Jubokko – literally “vampire tree”, a spirit tree that lives off human blood

  Kami – a god or spirit, worshipped in the Japanese tradition of Shinto

  Kanzashi – Japanese hair ornaments

  Kappa – child-sized reptilian creatures with webbed hands and feet; trickster figures. Their tricks can be harmless (farting) or terrible (drowning, rape)

  Kitsune-tsukai – literally, fox witch. These witches gain the favor of kitsune by bribing them with food and then making deals with them

  Kitsune – a fox spirit with transmutation abilities

  Red string of fate – concept similar to soul mates, a red string ties two people who are destined to meet

  Sakura – cherry blossom

  Torii – a traditional gate found at Shinto shrines and Buddhist temples

  Umanori – traditional Japanese garment, usually worn over a short kimono and divided like trousers

  Yokai – generic, broad term for any supernatural entity

  Yomi – land of the dead in the Shinto tradition, where the deceased rot indefinitely

  Foxfire

  Prologue

  Masaki Kitamura sat at his desk going through files on his laptop. Though he heard no door open or close, he knew he was no longer alone. He felt the tingling on his skin, the slight breeze in the room carrying a blended scent of tea and sake. When he felt the presence behind his chair, he straightened his spine in acknowledgment.

  “My lady.”

  A strong hand ran over his shoulder and down his chest. “My lord,” he corrected. Inari typically came in the form of a man when he had seduction in mind, but Masaki wasn’t in the mood, despite his love for his kami.

  Inari came around the chair and sat on the desk. Instead of wearing his usual white kimono underneath a blue umanori, Inari wore western clothing, which was unusual. He wore a simple white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows over black trousers. His feet were bare, his long black hair tied back in a low ponytail instead of a topknot.

  “Hello, Masaki.” Inari reached out and ran one finger down his cheek. “I understand you’ve requested your annual tribute.”

  Masaki had known Inari would find out, but he hadn’t expected it to happen so quickly. “Yes, I have.”

  “You seem to like human life the most of all your brothers.” Inari slowly closed Masaki’s laptop and pushed it aside, sliding over on the desk so he was right in front of Masaki. He spread his legs and rested them against the arms of Masaki’s chair. “I almost thought you might ask the Ibuki family for a bride.”

  Masaki smiled. “In a way, I have.”

  Inari smiled. “I meant a female one, so you could have children. I know how much you love them.” Leaning forward, he added, “Does your preference for a male have anything to do with me, my little kitsune?” He ran one finger over Masaki’s lower lip. “Hmmm?”

  “It’s always been my preference.”

  Inari looked thoughtful. “I’m not surprised, given your father’s luck with women.”

  “How may I serve you today, my lord?” Masaki asked, assuming they would adjourn to his bedroom. He did not wish to talk about the curse of his “father”.

  “I have a message for you to deliver.” He set an envelope on the desk. “But I wished to see you in person.”

  “Why?”

  A smirk spread over Inari’s face. “I spent the day spying on him. He’s an interesting choice.”

  Inari obviously meant Hiro Ibuki. “Do you approve?” Masaki swallowed. Knowing Inari could deny him a chosen tribute, he worried his request might be annulled.

  “You’re free to ask for any tribute you like. I don’t see him as being submissive though.”

  “I don’t want someone submissive. I want … him.”

  Inari toyed with the buttons on his shirt, as if he would say nothing else, but Masaki knew better. After a moment, Inari looked up. “What got your attention?”

  Masaki studied Inari’s expression before answering. “You watched him all day?”

  Inari nodded.

  “Then surely you know, my lord.”

  The god ran a hand up his own thigh, letting it rest over the erection that was becoming more obvious. “He’s beautiful.”

  “That’s not it, but yes, he is.” Hiro was a handsome young man, his long black hair silky and his brown eyes intelligent and thoughtful. He had a strong chin and lean, firm body.

  Inari chuckled. “It’s his art. I approve, my little fox. He’s a good match for you. Your appreciation of the arts will endear you to him.”

  “I saw one of his drawings in Akira’s office. I’ve purchased many of them.” He pointed to the framed sketches on the wall. “They…” He couldn’t find the right word.

  “Speak to you,” Inari finished for him.

  “Yes. They do.” It gave him confidence that Inari saw it so easily, but he didn’t want to let it show and seem prideful to his kami.

  “And how do you plan to woo him?”

  Masaki weighed his answer. “Not sure. I can be patient, of course.”

  “You do possess patience. Yes, you do.” He continued to stroke himself. “I suppose your thoughts are all of him now.”

  His sexual encounters with Inari had always been pleasurable, but Hiro filled his thoughts more each day. “Once he’s here. Until then, as always, I’m yours to command.” Masaki reached forward to touch Inari. Pleasuring the one he served would never be wrong until he’d vowed himself to another.

  The god held up a hand to stop him. “I don’t want to be with you if you’ll be thinking of him.” He groaned and stopped touching himself. “I believe I’ll go find one of your brothers.” He leaned forward. “Though I will miss you, Masaki.”

  Masaki looked into Inari’s eyes, which were green in this particular incarnation. Their lips came together, and his god favored him with a tender, undemanding kiss. While Masaki still felt desire for the one he was bound in service to, he silently thanked Inari as the god kissed him so sweetly. He felt the approval, and the
blessing, in the kiss.

  “Thank you, great kami,” Masaki said as their lips parted. “Part of my heart will always belong to you.”

  “So sweet and devoted.” Inari solemnly place a kiss to his forehead, a more overt show of his approval. “You’ll invite me for dinner, of course, once you’ve made him yours.” Inari stood and smoothed his clothing.

  Masaki stood and bowed with reverence. “You’re always welcome in my home.”

  Inari ran a hand into Masaki’s shoulder-length hair and pulled him close. “Just remember, you’re mine until you find the sacred candle.”

  Their faces inches apart, Masaki affectionately brushed their cheeks together. “Yes, I am.” Though he and his eight brothers could not be free of their servitude to Inari until they had each found a scared object lost long ago, Masaki had never resented Inari. He loved serving his kami and doing his will. Not all of his brothers felt the same, but Masaki truly loved Inari.

  The god smiled and backed away. “I’ll be watching.” He vanished, leaving nothing but the scent of tea behind.

  Masaki glanced at Hiro’s sketches before opening his laptop again. He clicked into a file, and dozens of pictures of Hiro appeared on the screen. His glance swept over them, and he sighed. Having Hiro in his home would not be enough, yet he knew he might have to settle for the artist’s friendship. No matter how many powers Masaki possessed, he could not make the young man fall in love with him.

  Chapter One

  Hiro Ibuki let himself into his brother Akira’s large apartment and removed his shoes. He glanced around as he set them aside, wondering why only two pairs sat by the door. He checked his phone for the time. Akira had said the family meeting would begin at noon, and Hiro was actually two minutes late. Where was everyone else? He glanced out at the street, searching for cars or bikes he recognized.

  “Akira? It’s Hiro.” He moved into the living room and saw the door leading to Akira’s office stood halfway open. “Akira?”

  His brother, who was forty-three and twenty years his senior, emerged and smiled. “Hello, Hiro.”

  When no explanation was offered, Hiro asked, “Did I get my days wrong? Where is everyone?”

  Akira had been the head of the family for about three years, since the death of their father, and he’d only called a couple of family meetings since the reading of the will. Hiro had rearranged his schedule for this, so he hoped he hadn’t gotten the date wrong.

  “No, you’re right on time. I need to talk to you privately, and I knew it would be hard to get you here unless you thought it was important.”

  Hiro shifted his weight from his right foot to his left. While Hiro didn’t like having been tricked, he knew his brother made a fair point. Since Akira had become head of the family, Hiro had tried very hard to show Akira the respect he’d often failed to show their father, though it did little to assuage his guilt. He bowed slightly. “Fair enough. I know I don’t come to family dinners often.” Worry soon overtook his annoyance, and he asked, “Is something wrong?”

  Akira gestured to his office. “No, nothing’s wrong. But I do have a lot to tell you.”

  Hiro didn’t feel reassured. After a moment, he crossed the spacious living area and went into his brother’s office. Akira walked around his desk and sat in his black leather chair, so Hiro sat in one of the smaller leather chairs in front of the desk.

  “I’m going to share a family secret with you because I need your help with something,” Akira said.

  What on earth could Akira need his help with? His eldest brother rarely asked for help from anyone. Even when he’d had back surgery two years earlier, he’d only allowed his family to help him in a very minimal way and then only for the sake of getting work done, not for his own comfort.

  “If I can help, I’ll be glad to.” Hiro sat forward. “I’m listening.”

  Akira nodded slowly, folding his hands in his lap. “I’m going to tell you why our family is so prosperous, and it’s going to be hard for you to believe at first.”

  Hiro felt his gut clench. He’d always wondered about his family’s wealth, which had only come about three generations earlier with their great grandfather, Fuyuhiko. Had their ancestor done something illegal? Why else would the source of their prosperity need to be kept secret? Everything seemed to always go smoothly for the Ibuki group. Almost too smoothly at times. Hiro shifted in his seat, worrying his lower lip as he waited for Akira to explain.

  “Don’t look so scared. We aren’t involved with the yakuza or anything like that. It’s going to be hard for you to believe because, honestly, our good fortune comes from a source you likely don’t believe in.”

  Worry changed to confusion. What was Akira talking about? “I’ll try to be, uh, open minded then.” He leaned on his right elbow. “Just tell me.”

  Akira sat forward and rested his forearms on his desk, fidgeting with the pen sitting on the shiny surface. “You know who Inari is?”

  “Who?”

  “Inari. The kami of foxes. Of rice and tea and sake.”

  Hiro hesitated, wondering why his brother was starting off by talking about a Shinto god. “Yeah, I think I remember that one from school. Kind of.”

  “Inari is also the god of fertility. Industry, prosperity, and success.” He nodded toward a large portrait. “Our ancestors needed his help.”

  Hiro glanced over at the hundred-year-old portrait of Fuyuhiko and his wife Tohru, their great grandparents on their father’s side. “They did?” Where might Akira be going with this?

  “They were poor and had no children. More than anything, they wanted a child, a son to carry on their name. They prayed to Inari at every shrine they could travel to. A kitsune appeared to them one night, surrounded by blue orbs of foxfire.”

  Shinto gods and fox spirits. Hiro blinked, not sure what to say. “What happened?” He’d promised to keep an open mind, and he hoped this fairy tale was going to lead to something more substantial soon.

  “The fox spirit bowed reverently and said that Inari had heard their pleas. He offered them a choice, wealth and comfort for all their days or a son. Without hesitation, they both said they wanted a son. The fox said Inari would bless them with both because the god could see the love in their hearts.”

  “And you’re saying a god gave them a baby and a fortune?”

  “In time. The fox led our ancestors to a magical grove and told them to spend the night there. A couple of months later, they learned a child was on the way.”

  “And the money?”

  “A relative no one had ever heard of died and left Fuyuhiko a vast fortune on the condition he enter into business with a mysterious benefactor, who in fact turned out to be the very fox spirit who had answered their pleas.”

  “He started a business with a kitsune?”

  “Yes, and they thrived. There’s only one condition—tribute.”

  “Tribute?”

  Akira nodded. “Yes. The kitsune was one of nine brothers. They watch over us and preserve our good fortune, for a price. Once a year, each may ask the head of our family for anything that is possible for a human to give. Luckily, they do not all ask at once. But Masaki Kitamura has made his choice.”

  Masaki Kitamura? Hiro knew the name in a vague way. “Who’s that?”

  “One of the kitsune. He’s on the board of the Ibuki group, but he’s also an art collector. He’s purchased many of your sketches.”

  “Oh.” So that was where he knew the name. He eyed his brother. “So he wants something from me? A special commission? I’m busy right now, but I’ll work him in if I—” Hiro stopped speaking, realizing how crazy it all sounded. “Wait. You’re telling me … this guy is—”

  “A kitsune, one of Inari’s messengers.”

  “No, he’s a man. I saw him at the gallery one night. Someone pointed him out to me.”

  “You know kitsune can take human form.”

  “I don’t know anything of the kind. They aren’t real.”

  “Y
ou said you’d keep an open mind.”

  “I’ll believe in fox spirits the day I see one.”

  Akira leaned back in his chair. “I can arrange that. You’re what he wants.”

  “I’m what he wants? What do you mean?”

  “You. The tribute he’s requested is you. He admires your work, and he wishes for you to come live with him. To draw and paint exclusively for him.”

  “Why on earth would he want such a thing?” Hiro couldn’t take it all in. How could his brother believe something so strange? How could anyone give credit to such a ludicrous tale?

  * * * *

  Masaki gazed into the mirror and watched Hiro talking with his brother.

  “Why on earth would he want such a thing?”

  Masaki wished he could pass through the mirror and answer Hiro’s question himself. Akira presented the situation as a purely professional relationship, but Masaki had told Akira the truth. He’d come to trust the current head of the family, and Masaki could see he’d been right to do so. Akira had been surprised to hear Masaki confess his feelings for Hiro, but he had also been pleased. Akira believed Hiro was “closeted” and in denial about his desire for the company of other men. Very delicately, Akira had told Masaki about some sketches he’d found once. Masaki knew all about them. He’d even watched Hiro draw many of them, watched the young man touch himself afterwards.