Epilogue

Since words cannot begin to describe what occurs without the flow of time and the bounds of space, I am afraid I cannot tell you what happened to Kitsune, except for this:

Seeing as foxes by definition have bodies and bodies only exist in space, as soon as Kitsune stepped through the tree hollow, she ceased having a body, and thus ceased being a fox.

And as a fox's brain is a part of her body, and a fox cannot ponder the answer to a mystery without a brain, both Kitsune's question about her fluffy tail and her determination to find its answer evaporated into nothingness like a whiff of pale smoke.

Did Kyubei trick poor Kitsune to her doom? It is possible. Foxes are tricky creatures—even nine-tailed celestial foxes.

On the other hand, thought Kyubei, I did warn her. And how closely she resembled a human, even until her end! Unable to find a satisfactory answer for her question in this world, she turned in desperation beyond the world—hers was a fitting fate for a fox who acts like a human.

The celestial fox licked his paw and, with a lazy gesture of one of his tails, caused the great shining tree to vanish as suddenly as it had appeared.

Perhaps, thought Kyubei, there is now some remnant of Kitsune out there, beyond the pale of the universe and existence. Perhaps some shard of her mind or soul found a way to be without space or time or memory, still struggling to ask why her former tail was so fluffy.

But then again, thought Kyubei, perhaps there isn't.

The celestial fox sighed as he pondered Kitsune's fate, and the blue meadow faded as he became a constellation again.

Great Celestial Fox

Perhaps only God in the highest heaven, beyond the edge of this edgeless universe, knows what happened to Kitsune—or perhaps He does not."