Chapter 22

  Fuku tried… but couldn’t resist.

  His brain screamed that this could kill Ben, that it was a mistake, that he didn't want this to happen so badly that he would risk his friend's life.

  But his mouth opened, tilted up, and met Ben’s anyway.

  For those few seconds, he was lost. He had stolen a kiss from Ben before—a quick thank-you—but this was different. This wasn’t a quick stolen lick; it was more. He tasted Ben’s saliva, felt the warmth of his breath, and smelled the earthy scent of his hide. He didn’t want it to end.

  He’d kissed people before. He’d had passionate kisses, heartfelt lingering kisses. Greeting kisses, goodbye kisses… but none of them compared to this. It was magical—more than the brushing of lips or the tickle of tongues. There was a spark, an energy, a feeling of rightness he’d never experienced before.

  But slowly, Ben pulled back.

  It took Fuku a moment to remember what was happening—why Ben had initiated this kiss in the first place. He stayed lost, eyes closed, lingering…

  Then his memory snapped back into place. “Ben… are you okay?” he cried out.

  He watched as the Minotaur smacked his lips, tasting the water—or maybe the saliva—that ringed his mouth.

  “Yes Fuku, I’m fi—”

  Ben cut off, his hands flying to his neck. He coughed, a ragged, choking sound, and collapsed to his knees.

  “Ben!” Fuku screamed, bouncing from the fountain’s ledge to his side, his eyes wide with panic.

  “Fuku…” Ben rasped.

  “Ben, no! I’m sorry, I was weak. I shouldn’t have—”

  Ben stared at Fuku with feigned helplessness—then winked. “Gotcha.”

  “What? Wait… you’re not…? But… the water?” Fuku spluttered. He could hear the two guards who had been following them chuckling nearby.

  He slapped Ben’s arm, sparing him no mercy. “That was just plain rude, Ben!” he shouted, turning his back on the Minotaur.

  That did little to stop Ben, though. A pair of huge arms wrapped around him, lifting Fuku from the ground and pulling him into a hug. “I couldn’t resist,” Ben rumbled from behind him.

  “Did you know the whole time that it wouldn’t hurt you?” Fuku huffed, still trying to be mad.

  “No, I didn’t. Honestly,” Ben said. “But when you were testing the water, I couldn't help but get some on my fingers. While I wasn’t certain drinking it would be alright, I was fairly sure it wouldn't hurt me.”

  Ben laid his muzzle on the Tanuki’s head, “I couldn’t resist getting you back for telling my secret earlier. I guess we’re even now.”

  “Hmph,” Fuku grunted, his anger already dissipating, though he wasn't about to let Ben know that. Then a few words whispered in his ear made the rest of his anger melt away.

  “I really enjoyed the kiss, though.”

  Fuku squirmed in Ben’s arms, turning around until they were face-to-face. “Really?”

  “Yes, really,” Ben answered, his voice a low, soft rumble. “I think maybe we should do that again sometime. Maybe when we don’t have so many people watching, though.”

  Fuku glanced around and saw not only the guards but several other villagers staring at them.

  “Fine,” he said, then stole a quick lick of Ben's nose. “But I’m holding you to that.”

  Ben smiled and set him down.

  ***

  Now knowing that the water in the fountain was beneficial and not harmful, Fuku dumped out his waterskins and refilled them. He also refilled the jar, then tucked them all away in his tail.

  “We can take this with us and use it to purify our water,” Fuku announced. “At least, if the magic continues to work. It might have to be close to the fountain, or it might run out of power over time, but I’m still taking as much as I can.”

  “Good idea, Fuku,” Ben said and sat down on the ledge of the fountain. He gently ran his fingers through the water, still a little hesitant, but more curious now.

  Duria, the bovine female from earlier, approached as he sat. “Sir Minotaur?” she said meekly.

  “It’s Ben. And you are Duria, yes?”

  “Yes, sir… uh… Ben,” she said sheepishly. “The seamstress… she would like to see you, if that’s all right?”

  Ben wasn’t a fan of this treatment anymore. The near-worship had gotten old fast. He was glad that most of the villagers now seemed to find him more odd than mythic. So he placed a hand on Duria’s shoulder and offered her a gentle smile. “Please, lead the way.”

  Ben stood and followed Duria to a shop with a carved wooden sign out front depicting what looked to Ben like a tomato with pins sticking out of it. He didn’t quite understand the reference but walked inside, ducking his head as he did, with Fuku bouncing along right behind.

  The shop’s interior was a world apart from the village. The cobblestone streets felt like something from Ben’s own time, but this shop obviously belonged to this more modern era. It bristled with a magic that made him stare in disbelief.

  The walls were lined with bolts of cloth and colorful skeins of yarn. A small waiting area filled the center of the room, with a set of changing rooms to one side and a heavy wooden desk guarding the entrance to the workshop beyond.

  It was the area behind the desk that caught Ben’s focus. Several tables stood in symmetrical rows, each covered with some kind of material. And that was only the beginning. Each table held a pair of scissors or a needle and thread—and they moved entirely on their own.

  Scissors ripped through cloth that spun in place, the blades shifting angles with uncanny precision. Behind the cutting tables, large wheels turned as threads were pulled and twisted into yarn, all of it feeding into a loom. A lean Beast-kin—a dog of some kind—jogged on the treadle pedals, his legs pumping steadily. At the same time, he lifted small weights in his arms, treating his job more like a workout than a chore.

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  At the rear of the building, stranger machines labored. Material was fed into them, though Ben couldn’t make sense of how it all worked. He heard the rapid rap-rap-rap of an arm punching up and down, and then the cloth slid out the other side, neatly stitched together.

  He could feel the pull of the metal within the machines, his energy waning with each step forward. But they were far in the back—far enough that he didn’t think he would collapse.

  Duria walked behind the counter and bowed to the lady who sat waiting for them.

  “Minotaur,” the seamstress rasped, her voice rough and warm, like gravel rolling in a barrel. “Well now… you’re a big one, aren’t you?”

  She flashed a wide, lip-stretching grin and let out a sharp, barking laugh. “That torn-up cloth you sent over? Ha! Rubbish. I took one look and said, ‘No way this fits anyone but a swine-kin with a proper round belly.’”

  She leaned over the counter, her snout dipping forward, eyes bright with mischief.

  “And now that I see you in person, well—”

  Her lips peeled into an even wider grin.

  “I know I’m right. No room for the boys!”

  She was an older lady with long black hair, streaked with gray, tied neatly atop her head in a bun and held in place by a golden pin. This was the first person Ben had seen with hair like a human, but that was where the similarity stopped.

  Her face was a wide, dark, furless disc around her small, intelligent eyes. Her snout started just below them and pushed out and down, her wide lips spread over a large chin. The fur that sprouted like a beard from under her mouth was a lighter gray, which differed from the dark fur covering the rest of her body. She wore a loose-fitting robe that made a V at her neck and flowed down past the counter.

  In her hand, a small stick waved, bobbing as if directing a musical concert, its tip glowing slightly. She paid it no mind, however; her focus was entirely on Ben and, more specifically, on the blanket tied around his waist.

  “Are you monkey? I haven’t seen any other monkey-kin around here,” Fuku said, his enthusiasm dimming into reverence. “Uh—sorry if that’s not the right term.”

  “No, you wouldn’t,” the seamstress rasped. “Baboon-kin is proper, but ‘monkey’ is fine. We’re all part of the same family, aren’t we?”

  She gave him a broad, lip-stretching grin—then puffed one cheek and raised her brows in a playful little gesture only her kind could manage. “I’m a long way from home, though. That’s a tail for the evening, with lots of wine.”

  “Ha. Okay. I might take you up on that. But for now—he needs something with more room in this area.”

  Fuku bounced up beside Ben and pointed just below his crotch. “They’re huge and dangly and get in the way.”

  Ben felt himself blush, and he saw Duria visibly turning pink.

  “Oh, I can tell,” the seamstress said, lifting a strange pipe-like instrument to her mouth. She drew in, then exhaled a cloud of fragrant lavender smoke before turning to Fuku.

  “I’m guessing you’re the talker. Are you the payer too?”

  Ben was going to interject, to tell the woman that he was quite capable of speaking for himself, but Fuku beat him to it.

  “Yep!” he squeaked. “I think he could use something loose and comfortable for when we’re walking—maybe a big loincloth and belt—ooo… and a cloak! But we’ll also need something for when we go into cities, a disguise, like a big monk’s robe or something. Maybe… a hat?”

  The seamstress just stared at Fuku as he rambled on about possible outfits. “And you…” she finally cut him off. “Why don’t you have any clothes on?”

  That actually got Fuku to quiet down.

  “I’ve asked that of him as well,” Ben said, half-chuckling. “He thinks that since his stomach covers his little…”

  “I can wear whatever I want!” Fuku retorted. “I am a master of disguise, and my tools require my body to be free, so I choose to remain unclothed. Though I really do like that purple cloth there.”

  The seamstress huffed. “That purple is too rich for you. You’d be better off with a pale blue; it’d bring out your highlights.”

  And that was the conversation for the next few minutes. Ben stood and watched as the seamstress and the Tanuki bickered, argued, haggled, and finally shook paws.

  “What just happened?” Ben asked once deliberations had been concluded and Duria—apparently the seamstress’s assistant—came around the counter. She carried a length of cord, marked at intervals, which she began to loop and stretch across his frame.

  The flush of her embarrassment showed plainly through the pale fur of her cheeks, her ears flicking back as she tried to focus on the task. Her hands moved quickly but not steadily, betraying how close she had to stand, how much of him she had to measure.

  “What happened? I bought us some clothes. Couldn’t you tell?” Fuku huffed.

  “Honestly, I lost track after something about light blue cloth,” Ben apologized. “I guess clothing just doesn’t interest me much.”

  “Mino… uhh… Ben…” Duria whispered from below. “I hate to ask, but I need to measure from your hoof to your… uh…”

  Ben stood there with a confused expression, not understanding what the girl was asking.

  Fuku piped up, knowing exactly what she was talking about. “She needs to move your blanket out of the way so she can measure how long your leg is, and she’s embarrassed because she’ll need to touch your sack,” he grumbled.

  “Oh…” Ben said and looked down at the kneeling girl. He then looked back at Fuku, who wore a somewhat disgusted expression, as though he knew it was necessary but didn’t like it. Ben half chuckled then pulled the blanket out of the way for her.

  Everyone in this village had already seen him nude so this wasn’t a big deal to him, in fact it still felt odd to him to have to wear clothing at all.

  “You should really be less possessive, Fuku,” Ben said while Duria took the measuring cord and stretched it from the floor to his…

  “Ooo,” he blurted as her hand bumped against him in a very sensitive area.

  “I… I’m so sorry!” she squeaked. Her embarrassment practically radiated from her as she slapped both hands over her face, then spun and bolted behind the counter into the workroom, where the seamstress stood at one of the tables.

  “Shouldn’t I be?” Fuku shot back. “See what one little touch does?” He pointed to where Duria trembled beside the seamstress, trying—and failing—to write down the measurements she had just taken.

  The seamstress only shook her head and drew another puff from her pipe, patient with Duria’s embarrassment, though her eyes clearly urged things forward.

  Behind her, new materials and patterns floated through the air as her magic set to work on the clothes Fuku had commissioned.

  “She’s just embarrassed. It wasn’t because of me. She’d be just as embarrassed if it were you—or anyone else,” Ben said, trying to counter Fuku’s remark.

  “Ben… she’s been drooling all over you since this morning. Every time she even looks at you, she blushes. And she’s not the only one. This whole town believed you were some ancient hero. That kind of worship doesn’t just go away because you turn out to be a big crybaby.”

  Ben looked sternly at Fuku. “Crybaby, really?”

  “Do you want me to say again how close everyone came to being…” Fuku began, turning his head towards the back of the room.

  “No,” Ben cut him off. “But I’m not a crybaby, either.”

  “I know that—but from their point of view? They saw you bulk out, then saw me jump onto you, and then you started bawling. They’ve heard the gossip, sure, but they don’t know what really happened—what you had to deal with.”

  Fuku ears pointed forward, tone unusually serious.

  “Yeah, the crowd in the hall understood, but that information spreads the way rumors always do… the facts get jumbled, the words get changed. So what they think they know is just a story about what actually happened. People always see what they want to see. And if they worshipped you before, then a few tears aren’t going to change that.”

  Ben paused and conceded Fuku’s point. The villagers didn’t know—not what had really happened. He was sure they’d all heard some version of how he’d almost lost control, but his outburst earlier had been quite the idol-breaker.

  He grunted, letting Fuku win this round, and stepped closer to the counter where the Tanuki bobbed merrily. Ben glanced toward the back of the shop again, marveling at the magic and technology on display. Logically, he knew these were skills and abilities, but knowing such things existed was one thing—seeing them in action was something else entirely.

  “Ready for another kiss?” Fuku asked as Ben drew near. “There are fewer people around now.”

  Ben looked at him and grunted. Then he stepped away and stuck out his tongue—not as an offering, but to tease Fuku. He was momentarily surprised at his own childishness, but the feeling quickly gave way to a quiet satisfaction.

  Fuku giggled. “Ooo… promise?”

  Ben smiled and winked.

  While he couldn’t say he was “attracted” to Fuku, he did find that he enjoyed the affection they shared. The curse had stolen that part of him, leaving him unable to feel desire for anyone. Yet he still found comfort in Fuku’s affection. He liked the warmth, the touch, the simple intimacy they shared.

  For just a moment, he wondered if this closeness was truly his own choice. Was it strange to be so affectionate with someone non-human—or simply natural now that he was no longer human himself? Or was their relationship yet another thread of the Keiyaku, quietly guiding him? The doubt passed quickly, but it made him question whether his feelings were truly his own… or simply another effect of the life he’d promised to Fuku.