Content Note: Internalized transphobia.
This is not a dream. This is a memory.
You have just died from despair. From the knowledge that your very existence is hurtful to real Japanese people, especially Japanese-[YOUR NATIONALITY] people. That there's no way that it can be reconciled with theirs.
On some level, you don't see why not. You don't understand what your life takes away from theirs. But your friend, the one you trust, the one who speaks for all Japanese-[YOUR NATIONALITY]s on Tumblr, explained that it does. And you believe her.
You always believe minorities.
Even when they say this.
You wonder if maybe the TERFs are right, too.
It occurs to you that you are inside a black void, and no longer inside of your body. You can't feel it at all. You can't feel or see anything, in fact. Not even your own heartbeat. Not even your breathing.
Not even the ringing sound that's always there, when it's silent.
So this is oblivion, you think.
But wait, you wonder. Why am I still thinking at all?
Why am I?
Have I not sufficiently accepted the need for my own death? you ask yourself.
You do your best to do so. But on some level, you can't.
This is almost as problematic as you are.
Oh. Do you see that? It looks like a light, far in the distance ahead of you.
Not the bright light of heaven, the cold light of judgment, or even the flickering gaslight of a Narnian lamppost. It looks more like ... fireflies. Twinkling, glowing blue, then fading out before twinkling again.
You're pretty sure fireflies don't glow blue, where you're from.
You try to approach. You don't have any legs or other appendages, so this takes some effort. You imagine yourself leaning forward, and that seems to do the trick.
Finally, you stumble and fall forward, onto a dirt path in a moonlit forest.
You look back. Oblivion's no longer there, if it could be said to exist to begin with. Just more path, and more leaves. More deciduous forest.
Glowing blue fireflies flicker around you, tracing lines on your retina when you close and rub at your eyes.
They aren't the only things that are glowing. You are too, it seems. And you look ... very different.
Oh no.
The brightest light comes from a clearing, surrounding a still pond. You run to the water and fall on all fours beside it, peering at your reflection just under the moon's.
Your arms are smooth, soft, and slightly transparent.
Your naked breasts swing from you as you look down.
And your face is ...
Well. It's-
"Do you like what you see?"
A gentle, feminine voice, with a touch of playfulness. Coming from someone who knows what is going on.
This can only mean one thing.
You scoot backwards, away from Her on all fours, squeezing your eyes shut and shaking your head frantically.
You liked what you saw.
It was exactly what you'd always wanted, ever since you were little.
And it was the one thing you were NEVER allowed to have.
Otherwise, people you cared about would get hurt.
It didn't matter that they'd never cared about you.
"Oh? What's wrong? Did I startle you?"
You shake your head again, your eyes still squeezed shut.
On some level, you had expected Her. On some level, you'd always known She was there. But this wasn't something She had any right to grant you.
After all, She was an imm-
Someone from outs-
Not originally Ja-
You can't finish the thought. You don't understand why. You literally cannot complete the sentence, cannot explain it to yourself, cannot justify the knowledge that this should not be.
No matter which Goddess wills it.
"Ah, I'm so sorry ... should I come back later?"
You shake your head again, quickly. This needs to be resolved as soon as possible.
"Okay ... what would you like me to do?" The voice has lost all of its playfulness, and is more empathetic now.
You scramble to bow to Her, your head and palms pressed to the ground, and you say a silent prayer. It's difficult, because the concepts you need to explain have walled themselves off in your mind, leaving you with just the lingering feeling of wrongness.
Of unworthiness.
Of being someone who does not deserve anything good, or to be considered a person at all.
Because if you were a person ... then what happened to you, that made you lose your life and come here, was horrible. It was wrong, and your friend was wrong too.
That's a thought you can articulate. It's also not one that you can accept. You would rather that she be right, and cool and superior, and that anything which contradicts her cease to exist. Including you.
"I'm sorry, I can't send you back to oblivion ... I would if I could, but there's something keeping you here. Deep pain and injustice, it feels like?"
You cover your face with your hands and sob helplessly, the tears vanishing once they leave you.
You've failed.
You are the pain and injustice. Because that's what you cause, in the-
You startle when something rubs up against you. Fur, a wet nose, and a tail.
"Ah! Miko!" the voice says, and footsteps hurry towards you. "I don't think she wants to be-"
You open your eyes, looking away from the source of the voice, and hold your hand out to the glowing fox. She sniffs and then licks it, giving you a gentle look.
Something about that look calls to you.
It reminds you of all the time you spent scared of the people around you. Scared of their noise. Scared of their anger, their insistence, their ambition. Feeling like an animal trapped in a cage, forced to inhabit a body that isn't yours and communicate in a foreign language.
There is more acceptance and understanding in that look than you've ever seen anywhere else.
You know that if you were to look up at Her, you would see Her understanding and acceptance as well. You know these twin pulls, these deep longings of the soul, these identities can be reconciled. That they have been, many times in the past, like in the case of historical Japanese foxwomen like Kuzunoha and Tamamo-no-Mae.
But this ...
This is one thing you know She has every right to grant.
You press your forehead to the ground again, and beg Her with all your heart.
Beg Her to let you stop being an affront, an abomination, a thing that must be erased from the world so your friend's view of it won't be challenged.
Beg Her to let you be a servant instead.
A messenger, a protector, a symbol of Her.
An Inari fox.
"Aww ... " She sounds so sympathetic, as She kneels beside you. "Okay, then ~ "
You feel Her finger lift your chin up, from the ground.
For just a split-second, you open your eyes.
Then She kisses you.
Lovingly. Passionately.
And you begin to feel smaller, and warmer, and fluffier, and the wind ruffles your fur and blows in your ears, and your tail swishes expressively, and your pawpads grow out towards the ground, and you are
You are
Safe
Loved
Among friends
And as She breaks away and smiles down at you, your nose twitches at the scent of girl and perfume and rice
She lets you sniff Her hand to satisfy your curiosity, and then pets you between the ears and it is the best thing
And Miko rubs up against you affectionately
And you feel like there's something you're forgetting
But it's not important, right now.
There's something you need and want, but you've buried it and all the parts of you that wanted it. And that is okay, for now.
"For now," She says, "you can rest from dealing with all that. Okay? But when you feel up to it ...
"I'd really like for you to be yourself."
