The Foxfire Saga

Akiko stirred slowly, warmth pressing against her back and someone breathing steadily beside her. The bed was too narrow, but somehow they'd fit. Sheets tangled around their legs. One of Raya's arms draped over her waist, fingertips brushing bare skin just above the curve of her hip.

The air was still warm from the shower hours earlier, slowly returning to the room's baseline chill. It still smelled faintly of soap and something she was beginning to associate with home. Beside her head, on the narrow shelf that served as a headboard, her neural link sat quiet and dark.

She'd removed it last night, something she almost never did. The absence felt strange, like missing a sense, a limb, the low hum of Takuto's presence pulled from her mind. But even Takuto deserved the courtesy of privacy. And for once, she'd wanted it to be just them.

She didn't want to move.

Outside the reinforced walls, the world remained cracked and hungry, power systems still teetering on collapse, supplies limited, rumors thickening like smoke.

But here, in this narrow slice of quiet, Akiko breathed without armor. No mask. No veil. Just air, filtered and still.

Raya murmured something soft in her sleep, pressing closer. Akiko's tail twitched and brushed lightly against Raya's thigh before curling reflexively around her. A flush crept across her cheeks, but she didn't pull away.

Her body ached in ways that weren't just from the reactor work.

It was stupid how much that meant. How easy it was to forget what comfort felt like until it settled in your bones like warmth after frostbite.

She tilted her head just enough to glance back. Raya's hair was tousled, a few strands clinging to her brow. One of her hands had a faint reddish line from where she'd braced herself against the shower the night before. Akiko's breath caught.

She traced the memory, slow and careful, like a thread she didn't want to break.

Raya shifted then, letting out a low sigh. Her eyes blinked open, still heavy with sleep, and found Akiko's. There was no question there, only quiet understanding.

Akiko gave a faint smile, then pushed herself upright, slipping off the mattress to sit on the edge of the bed. The neural link rested on the shelf beside her, exactly where she'd left it. She picked it up, cradling it in her palm. The pale polymer was cool, faint glyphs along its spine pulsing in a gentle standby pattern. It looked almost fragile.

She hesitated a heartbeat longer, letting the moment breathe, then settled it back into place at the nape of her neck.

The connection flared. A soft crackle across her thoughts. Then:

"Good morning, Akiko."

His voice was calm as ever, precise and edged with that faint analytical undercurrent that was all Takuto.

Nearby, Raya finished pulling on her shirt, catching Akiko's eye with a small, knowing smile that warmed something deep inside her.

Akiko let out a slow breath. "You do alright without me?"

A pause. Then a subtle ripple across their shared space, like Takuto tilting his head, though his fox-shaped avatar wasn't present.

"In a network-rich environment, the need for your neural mesh is… less critical. I partitioned processes across local nodes. Maintained minimum cycles. The closest approximation your physiology might offer is 'light sleep.'"

Akiko arched a brow, tugging her shirt into place. "So you napped."

"I optimized time expenditure to allow the hours to pass without excessive subjective drag. It is… an efficient accommodation."

Her mouth twitched. "You mean it was boring."

"Considerably."

Akiko smothered a laugh. The gentle ache in her chest was warm. Takuto might not be human, but he was hers.

She stood, brushing fingers lightly over the link as if in apology. "Won't make a habit of leaving you out here on your own."

"Statistically, an occasional interval is advantageous for both parties. Your… privacy was respected."

Then, after a brief processing flicker, something almost wry in the cadence:

"Though given auditory monitoring within this structure, local gossip algorithms have already formed predictions exceeding ninety-four percent accuracy."

Akiko flushed hot. "Gods, shut up."

She realized too late she'd said it out loud.

Raya, halfway lacing up her boots, glanced over with a crooked grin. "What was that?"

"Nothing." Akiko scrubbed a hand over her face, ears burning. "Just… network noise."

Raya arched a brow, slow and playful. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

Akiko groaned, turning away. "Drop it."

"Mm-hm," Raya hummed, the shape of her smile obvious even without looking.

The small apartment was still warm when they left, though the air had a faint stale edge, like the circulation hadn't fully kicked in since the night. Akiko lingered by the door, breath shallow. Her hand hovered at the base of her neck, claws brushing the neural cradle.

A quiet exhale. Then she let the suit come back.

It rippled outward from the link, dark plates and woven fibers cascading over her limbs in seamless layers. The chest-plate sealed last, snug against her ribs. A second skin. A familiar weight.

Armor. Literal and otherwise.

Raya only watched, eyes soft, as though she understood without needing it explained.

When they stepped into the corridor, the change was immediate. Noise filtered through the walls. Voices, rumors, half-hopeful speculation.

"…said she helped stabilize the plant—"

"—can't be the same one that's on the bounty boards, right?"

"—or it is, and that's exactly why Haven lost the sector."

Akiko's ears twitched, the rumors crawling over her skin like static. Her tail lashed once, controlled, then stilled.

They made it to the lower thoroughfare where a line of evacuees snaked past temporary aid stations. A man in a patched thermal jacket waved them down, eyeing their unfamiliar cut through the crowd.

"You two look new here. Or just unlucky." His tone wasn't unkind, only pragmatic. "If you're after real food, try Lifeline Zephara. They've got hot stuff, mostly protein rations and broth, but it's better than nothing."

"Lifeline Zephara?" Raya asked.

"Local relief branch. Half their tents are near the west pumps. Follow the blue hazard tape. Can't miss it."

"Thanks," Akiko said, and meant it.

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The man only nodded, already turning to point someone else along.

Akiko and Raya wove their way deeper into the hold, following the directions past stacked cargo bins and a tangled nest of emergency power lines. Stray words drifted around them: complaints about allocation, hushed hopes that this shipment or that might bring medicine.

The further they went, the more the crowd shifted from wary clusters to people waiting, watching, clutching chipped cups or battered bags as though afraid they might vanish.

Blue hazard tape fluttered ahead, strung between old conduit posts. Just beyond it, the scent of broth and heated protein packs cut through the recycled air. It was thin, but after days of nutrient paste squeezed from a tube, it was enough to draw something tight and hungry low in Akiko's gut.

They kept moving, shoulders brushing now and then, until the line finally came into view.

The line for food twisted through the thoroughfare like a living thing. People hunched in patchwork coats, some sharing thermal blankets, most clutching recycled mugs or battered ration bowls. Steam curled from a pair of heavy vats under an improvised tarp, condensation slicking the overhead beams.

Akiko and Raya joined the back, boots scuffing against frost-bitten decking. The air was warmer here than it had been days before. A faint hum underfoot spoke of heaters finally pushing serious wattage. And that was... new.

Voices drifted up ahead.

"…Red Stripes rerouting power again. Bastards'll drain the reserves dry."

"They're trying to keep people from rioting, Nale. Maybe you'd rather freeze."

"Freeze now or starve later when the pumps fail. It's all the same in the end."

Akiko blinked. "Red Stripes?" The name meant nothing to her, a smear of half-formed rumor.

"They're a resistance bloc out of Zephara," Raya said quietly, close at her side. "Big on taking from Haven, giving to the people. Not so careful about how systems work long-term. Or who gets hurt later."

"Haven's ships are slag. The Red Stripes step in to fill the power vacuum." Akiko's ears flicked. "Typical."

Raya didn't disagree. Just tilted her head, scanning the line. "You wouldn't know it from how they talk, but most people here would rather trust someone waving a gun in Haven's face than the suits that left them freezing. Even if it means the whole grid burns out."

Akiko's mouth tightened. "Short memories."

"More like desperate ones."

Akiko didn't answer. Her chest tightened. She still remembered the fracture lines racing across Zephara's crust. The roar of rending ice. The ghost-pressure of the entity's attention wrapping around her like a vice.

The people here didn't know any of that. Or chose not to. It was easier to blame the face they did know.

"…I'm telling you, it's her fault. Kitsune bitch shows up, two days later Haven's stations are space scrap and this place is falling apart."

"Bullshit. You're just swallowing whatever the docks are passing around."

"Doesn't change the fact she's walking free. If it was my sister caught under that collapse—"

Akiko forced herself to breathe. In, out. Slow. Her claws curled faintly at her sides, the plates of her suit tightening. It was habit now, the way the suit's weight settled over her shoulders like a reminder: armor outside, so she didn't have to show the crack running through the center of her.

Raya leaned close, her hand brushing lightly at Akiko's back, just between her shoulder blades. A quiet, private anchor.

"Let them talk," she murmured. "We know who really pulled this moon to pieces."

Akiko's ears twitched under the plating. "Yeah. Doesn't mean I like being the easy answer."

"Not every truth sells as well as fear."

A soft, humorless sound escaped her. Almost a laugh. Almost.

The line crept on, until metal tables came into view. Battered, stained, manned by tired volunteers ladling thin broth into mismatched bowls. A sharp tang of salt and faint spice clung to the steam.

Akiko's ears twitched at the sound of clattering utensils, the low scrape of boots on metal as people moved away clutching their meals like fragile treasures.

When their turn came, Raya offered a murmured thanks as a volunteer filled their bowls. Akiko simply nodded, her throat too tight for more. Together, they stepped aside, easing past a knot of bundled children to lean against a support strut streaked with frost.

The broth was watery, barely more than flavored steam, but it was hot. Akiko cupped her bowl close, claws tapping faintly on the ceramic.

She took a sip, grimaced, and muttered under her breath, "Gods, I miss real food."

Raya huffed a soft laugh beside her. "This isn't real enough for you?"

Akiko tilted the bowl, inspecting the thin swirl of protein. "If I could just have one day without recycled paste. A decent cut of boar. Or rabbit. Even river fish."

"You say that like I should know what any of those taste like," Raya teased.

Akiko smirked, then her eyes went distant. A different memory surfacing. "Out in the belt… when we were hunting those dragonlings? Almost managed to trick myself it was pork. You turned greener than Haven credits and walked off."

Raya groaned, pressing her face into her free hand. "Please. Don't remind me. The smell alone…"

Akiko's grin sharpened. "Could always start a business, you know. Karn's still pumping out beasts. Good eating, if you're not picky. We could settle down somewhere, sell cuts off mutated hydras to mining crews."

Raya lifted her head, brows up, horror and delight warring in her expression. "A quaint little shop with bloodstains on the awning? You carving up nightmare beasts while I smile politely at the neighbors?"

Akiko bumped her shoulder, tail flicking with smug mischief. "Could be romantic."

"No," Raya said flatly, but she was laughing. "Absolutely not. I love you, but I will not be a butcher's wife."

Akiko took another sip, trying to hide how warm that I love you left her. Her ears twitched faintly. "…Guess that's fair."

They found a narrow table wedged between two battered structural columns.

Nearby, families clustered close on cracked benches. Kids huddled under patched thermal blankets, eyes wide and tired. A few clutched battered toys. One young mother whispered something to her son that made him giggle, the sound startling bright in the gloom.

Akiko's claws tapped restlessly on her bowl. Her tail curled low, uncertain.

She'd never thought much about children. Kaede was always the gentle one, the one kids adored. Even Raya seemed effortlessly warm with strangers, her voice softening around them in ways that made Akiko's chest twist.

She was a rogue. Always had been. Always would be. Good at slipping in, cutting what needed cutting, and moving on. Not the sort who stayed long enough to build anything that lasted.

But…

Her mind drifted back to Serynth. To Mila. That tiny hand gripping hers in the darkness of the transport hold, hiding from Haven's soldiers. The way Mila had rested her head against Akiko's shoulder without hesitation, trusting her completely.

She'd been awkward. Clumsy with her comfort. Certain she'd scare the girl off. But Mila had clung tighter, eyes bright with relief.

Akiko's throat tightened. Her eyes slipped over to Raya, who was watching one of the families nearby with a faint, wistful smile.

She could almost see it. Another place, another time. A quiet outpost somewhere. A real home. A little chaos wild-child racing between her and Raya, ears perked and tail twitching, laughter spilling through sunlit rooms.

She snorted softly under her breath. Kitsune didn't even exist in this universe. And she and Raya, two women, there was no straightforward path to something like that. Not without strange science, or stranger magic, or decisions Akiko couldn't picture herself making.

But still… in a universe already warped by impossible things, maybe it wasn't entirely foolish to wonder.

In any case, they still had Karn to deal with. Haven. The entity. Gods only knew what else waited to try to tear them apart.

But for one breath, it was sweet to imagine.

Raya's hand brushed hers under the table, fingers tangling slow. Her thumb ran gently across Akiko's knuckles, like she could sense every thought crowding in.

Akiko didn't pull away. But she muttered, low, "Don't look at me like that."

Raya's smile softened, warm and conspiratorial, and squeezed her hand tighter.

Then, after a moment, she leaned in, voice dropping to a murmur only Akiko could catch. "Come on. I've got an idea."

Akiko tilted her head, brows knitting. "An idea?"

"You'll see." Raya's grin turned sly. "Trust me."

Akiko huffed, ears twitching, but she let herself be pulled up. Whatever this was, she'd follow. For now.

They moved through the hold's winding arteries, past vendors and huddled families, until the crowds thinned and the air took on that faint, sharp tang of old machinery.

They wandered until they found it, a long, narrow hall near one of the hold's older industrial wings. Someone had repurposed it into a makeshift gym, complete with weights and anchored cables rigged for resistance. Rough, but functional.

Raya paced a slow circuit, inspecting. Her grin was all trouble. "Looks like it'll do."

Akiko grimaced. "This is your idea of a good morning, isn't it."

"You'd rather have limp arms?" Raya teased, lightly bumping her hip into Akiko's. "Or is your plan to rely on your suit forever?"

Akiko made a low noise in her throat. Her tail twitched, betraying her irritation. "My suit is perfectly—"

"Take it off."

Akiko blinked. "What?"

Raya gestured to the suit, smirking. "No suit. No cheating. This is about your body. Not how well you can pump mana through it."

Akiko muttered something vile under her breath. But she obeyed. Her claws tapped the neural link at her neck. The exosuit shimmered, panels retracting, lines of weave unspooling back into the neural array. A heartbeat later, she stood there in just the thin dark underclothes that clung to her ribs and hips. It was bare. Vulnerable. Honest.

Raya's gaze swept her, lingering at the new lines of muscle and the places still too lean. Her smile softened.

Akiko scowled. "Don't start."

"Wasn't going to." Raya stepped close, lowering her voice. "I just like seeing you without all the armor."

Akiko clicked her tongue and turned away, pretending to study the nearest resistance rig. Anything to hide the faint heat rising in her cheeks.

Together, they set to it. Slow, deliberate motions, the creak of cables and the soft drag of breath between them.

Akiko felt every deficit. Every protest of muscle left neglected by weeks in low-g. Every tremor that said this wasn't something magic could brute-force for her.

But Raya was right there, matching her pace, sometimes steadying her wrist, sometimes just offering a quiet look that said: I see you. I'm here.

At the end of the session, Akiko sank down onto one of the crates at the edge of the hall, shoulders heaving. Sweat darkened the fabric at her spine, stray locks of hair sticking to her cheek.

She dropped her head into her hands with a groan. "I hate this."

Raya stepped in close and ruffled her hair, fingers warm and gentle against her scalp. "You'll thank me when you can actually maneuver that mining laser without falling over. Without your suit."

Akiko peeked up at her, eyes narrowed, but couldn't quite bite down on the faint curl at the corner of her mouth. "Not today I won't."

Raya laughed, bright and soft, and leaned in to press a quick kiss to her temple. "Tomorrow, then."