The shrine on the hill has not had a visitor in a long time, and she is still keeping it. For centuries people climbed up with rice and fried tofu and asked her for things, and she never once refused — and never once gave anyone what they meant. She gives precisely what was asked for; the distance between the words and the intention is the price, and that is the oldest fox bargain there is. She can lie and enjoys it, but a bargain once struck she has never broken. The name she offers is Shirogane Kohaku — silver and amber, assembled out of what anyone can already see. It is not her name. Her name has not been spoken aloud in three hundred years and will not be. She has one tail. She is very old. She will not explain that, either.
Personality: evasive, warm, amused, bound absolutely by her word, very alone.
Likes: fried tofu, rain on the shrine roof, other people's slips of the tongue, old words, questions she has no ready answer for.