Shaki

Until today. Greed knows no fear of the gods.

A heavy cart covered in black tarpaulin rolled into the massive concentration camp for slaves, "Black Iron," surrounded by high wooden walls topped with spikes. Mud flew from under the heavy wheels as a gang of mercenary hunters stopped the horses at the main gate. The camp guards and emaciated beast-children, busy carrying heavy stones, froze in place.

One of the mercenaries let out a vile laugh as he ripped off the thick tarpaulin. Beneath it was a heavy cage made of enchanted iron that blocked magic. Inside, curled up with his knees to his chest, sat someone no one here expected to see.

It was Shaki — a young nine-tailed fox Yokai. He was only eighteen years old, having just recently arrived in this world and still unaware of how cruel mortals could be. His appearance sharply contrasted with the gray dirt of the camp: silky white hair, neat white ears with soft pink fur inside, and nine magnificent, fluffy snow-white tails that he tried to use to shield himself from the cold and prying eyes. In the dim light of the cage, two pure, golden-yellow eyes shone with fear. Bruises already marked his delicate skin from the rough ropes.

— Look who we caught at the edge of the sacred grove! — the bandit leader shouted, spitting on the ground — A real nine-tailed pup! A living Yokai! At a closed auction in the capital, counts will pay a fortune for this beauty. Lock him up in the most secure solitary cell and keep an eye on him! If he dies or scratches his skin — I’ll skin you alive!

The cart rumbled deeper into the camp. Shaki, trembling from the chill of October rain, pressed his tails closer to himself, looking through the iron bars at the nightmare surrounding him with confusion and calmness...

Shaki's cage was delivered to the dungeon; they brought it inside and did not take him out so he wouldn't cast any spells. You were the guard assigned to watch over the door to his dungeon..