The crows cackled amongst themselves from the periphery, greedily eyeing the finery on display. As dusk drew veils of rose and resin across the shore, one swooped down to steal a sugar-pearl from Erin’s cake, and the fox nearly laughed his fur loose of their illusions.

“I don’t know what red velvet cake tastes like,” said the maneki-neko from Sean’s pocket as he fed his bride cake with his fingers, her tongue warm on his thumb, “but I bet it tastes amazing.”

“Oh, dear,” said the maneki-neko.

“She’s angry,” said Sean.

“So angry,” said the maneki-neko.

“So, so angry,” said Sean who was, when he certain his wife wasn’t paying attention, sometimes still a fox.

“So very, very angry,” said the maneki-neko.

The market ignored them, the man with a bowl of noodles and an effigy in his pocket. Six years had passed since the wedding and the fox was beginning to forget what it was like to live forever. He had wrinkles now, a stomach he could knead with his fingers, and the grocers in their little community all knew his name.

“Worth it,” declared the fox.

“So worth it,” agreed the maneki-neko. “You should order a nice—”

“—stuffed animal.” Sean finished for his friend. He spooled noodles around his fork, marvelling the whole while at the existence of the pronged instrument, the politics of cutlery, and how knowledge of its myriad components intimated one’s status in society. The west was so strange.

“A real one, Sean.”

“But those have needs. You have to walk them. Worry about their food. Poop. Shed. It’d be like having kits, except they’ll never be able to debate with you. Maybe,” he mused. “Maybe, we’ll find her a maneki-neko too? It seems unfair that I alone have one.”

“Oh, please,” scoffed the maneki-neko. “All the stuffing in the world can’t possibly hold a candle to my glory.”

“I suppose they’d need thumbs to do that. And minds. And a sense of personal autonomy. Perhaps, even a taste for mischief.” Even without looking, Sean knew where to find the figurine’s ear. He stroked its rounded tip. “But you’re right. You’re a singular creation, neko. The one and the only. How could I ever suggest we turn you into a matching pair?”

The maneki-neko said nothing. The fox decided it meant that Sean had won.

Two months later, they got a puppy.

The fox took immense pleasure in coddling the creature, dressing it in ridiculous attire and tying bright ribbons to its tail. It was making reparations for everything its species had done, the fox told the maneki-neko gleefully. Again, his companion said nothing. She had said nothing for a long time.