flash fiction
The homeless man stumbled off the train at Fushimi Inari station. The train stopped opposite the popular Kyoto shrine. Friends, couples, families, and tourists poured through the gates. Phones out, cameras ready.
Taking a deep breath, he hobbled into the shrine.
He stopped at the concrete steps leading to several shops with monks and pretenders selling charms. All contained an image of the fox.
Two massive foxes guard the entrance, one held a key, the other a crystal ball. They weren’t foxes though. They were jackals; created to do the work of Fushimi Inari-sama.
With determination, he rushed up the steps and headed for the thousand gates. Passing the entrance, all sound stopped. A heavy silence fell. The hordes of sightseers were frozen, locked in time.
The scream of twisting metal filled the air. The jackal with the key turned its head to watch him.
Time was short.
Dodging people in mid-step, he entered the first of a thousand gates. People crammed the tunnel. Many in frozen poses for the camera. Others waiting to move on.
Guttural howls rumbled from the surrounding mountain forest.
Something black zipped past.
Rushing through and dodging the throng, he neared the end.
She waited. Her back to him. A long leather coat reached past her knees. Straight black hair reached almost to her waist.
“Mother,” the man said. He swallowed hard. “I’ve returned home.”
She didn’t turn. “You abandoned us three generations ago.”
“For love,” he whispered. The man looked at the ground.
“For the love of a human,” his mother spat. “Disgusting.”
“Please accept me back. I am your son.”
She was silent for a long moment, then she said softly, “You broke a mother’s heart.” The coat dropped. A shape moved under it. The material vanished. The true image of his mother appeared. Radiant as ever. “What is broken can never be fixed.”
Beyond the entrance, he saw his creator. Father. A black jackal resplendent in all his glory, turned his back to his son. They had once been so close, played together, grew together, Father even spoke of a time when the son would become king of the souls.
But the human drew him to her world. These beings are weak and have short lifespans.
He watched them fade as life returned to the world.
The gaggle of humans came from every corner. If he could not be King of the Souls, then he would collect his own. In time, humans would fear him. And maybe, his mother might once again smile at him, and allow him home.