It was a small thing, really, in the grand scheme of things.

There was no grandiose epiphany, no defining stand out moment that he'd be able to say shaped his entire life; indeed, it was a rather blasé sort of day, with clammy weather and a light drizzle that absolutely clung to every inch of his fur. Yet it was notable in the sense that something snapped into place inside Iromaen that day, and while later he wouldn't remember exactly what happened, it was enough to give him a push he'd been needing.

A simple thing, honestly - it was one of many times watching other freshlings rough and tumble about, but there was something different about this one. Two of his friends playing just a bit too hard, young bodies growing stronger with age, left one of them sprawled and crying on the ground. It was a terrible sound to his sensitive ears, and though he'd experience that fear many times later in life, right then it was a new shock he wasn't prepared for; worse, though, was the knowledge that he couldn't help, as trying to pull that same friend up revealed a very wrong curve in their arm and even more angry cries.

Later, of course, he'd learn that his friend had broken their arm, and later still he'd learn that they'd be perfectly fine - he'd even draw a cute picture on their cast, which would end up worn as a sort of badge of honor for a while! But right then, in those moments, as the young kumiho watched the teachers carry his friend away, he knew he hated that feeling. He hated the sensation of helplessness, and he loathed not being able to help.

That night, doing homework, it hit him - he wanted to help. One way or another, he was going to do something to let him help people.