Kyuden Shika

Mitsuki blinked. She was expecting him to say he prayed to his ancestors for strength, or studied Leadership ardently for clues, or something like that. Truly, she couldn't read the guy at all.

"Well, at least that's a way of coping that's easily taken care of in any big enough city. And possibly less damaging than, let's say, alcohol."

The Kitsu nodded.

"Decent sized villages with enough strife also tend to have them, funnily enough, if one needs it. Differing roles require differing methods of sustainment, I find - poets need to find beauty, warriors need to find strength - I suppose I just needed to find happiness, however fleeting."

"Your words sound dangerously close to the rhetoric of a opium addict Kitsu-sama. There's a thin line between finding a refuge in these things and them becoming a prison."

The Kitsu nodded.

"I have been on the wrong side of that line before, Moto-san. I suppose my choice of words were not too far off, but I see your point."