Chapter 24

  The door to their room opened with a squeak.

  The sun had set, leaving the land in darkness. The moon was a mere splinter on the horizon, so no light shone into the room to guide Ben as he ducked through the doorjamb from the dimly lit hall behind.

  He hadn’t entered this room before and had no memory of its layout; so he stood in the dark, unable to tell where anything was.

  He had left all the real-world arrangements to Fuku, trusting his friend's expertise in this new age. But standing here, blind in a simple room, he was realizing just how dependent on the Tanuki he'd become. It was a sharp reminder that he needed to start learning about this world, not just be a passenger in it.

  Ben sighed and closed his eyes, letting them adjust to the darkness. He felt less drained in this room, which was a pleasant reprieve, and only led to his desire to rest.

  As he stood there, the questions he had been waiting all evening to ask surfaced again, and he found himself wishing Fuku were awake to answer them.

  He knew he could gently shake his companion awake, but the idea felt wrong.

  In many ways, the Tanuki felt like a child to him, not only due to his smaller size—but in his actions as well. This left Ben feeling awkward, especially when their interactions were on the more affectionate side.

  But the odd dynamic they were developing had left him in the role of the more mature of the two. He was calm and diplomatic while Fuku was chaotic and spontaneous. He supposed, given his age, his role as the "elder" was only proper. Yet Fuku’s abilities allowed him to take charge in other ways, handling all the tangible details of living in this world and allowing Ben’s ignorance to remain.

  Speaking of abilities, he felt something new awakening inside him—a skill or some other magical manifestation on the verge of emerging, but not yet fully achievable. The sensation of the imminent knowledge was yet another question to add to his growing list of things to ask Fuku.

  He cracked open his eyes. There was just enough light now that he could make out the shapes of a bed and a dresser. There was also a small table, and upon it, what Ben thought must be a candle.

  ‘If only I could reach into Fuku’s tail,’ he thought, knowing the Tanuki had a strange fire-lighting device tucked away in there.

  He thought about trying again—but knew it wouldn’t work. Ben stepped forward tentatively, then pushed the door shut with his hoof. He must have misjudged the distance, because instead of a gentle nudge—he all but kicked the door into its frame.

  The loud thud echoed through the room.

  “Ben…?” Fuku mumbled in between snores.

  Ben chuckled quietly. He didn’t know what it was about this small creature that so enamored him.

  Yes, Fuku had saved him, rescuing him from his life of imprisonment and violence. Yes, because of him, Ben could be virtually free. And yes, he had also introduced Ben to this new world, been his guide, and offered him a goal—a quest—as well as companionship.

  But he wondered if there was more to it than that as well.

  When they’d kissed, he’d felt something… more. He couldn’t explain it, but it was almost like within him had unlocked.

  He wondered if it had something to do with the oath he’d given. How exactly the magic of the Keiyaku worked. He had essentially given his life to Fuku, was that part of it?

  ‘Did the pact register what Fuku desired and subtly use its magic to influence him? Could it be that loving the person to whom you give your life was a requirement, something the pact itself built over time?’

  He had no way of knowing, and he was fairly certain Fuku was ignorant of the Keiyaku’s true nature as well.

  Fuku had explained it was the first time he had used it, and as far as he knew, he was the only Tanuki in this world—at least at the moment, so he had no others to whom he could ask.

  There could have been other Tanuki who were trapped on this world as he was. Some that had been already crossed over and were now locked out in the same way. Fuku had told Ben that he had searched for them, would still like to find another… but he had been here just over two hundred years now and had yet to encounter any.

  That was another thing. Fuku acted young—more like a teenager than a wizened elder—but Ben knew some of it was an act, belied by the Tanuki’s far deeper wisdom. There were moments, little things Fuku did or said, that felt far beyond the age he pretended to be.

  ‘Yet another topic to explore,’ Ben thought as he took another tentative step into the room.

  His eyes were becoming more adjusted to the darkness. There were no real details, but he doubted there’d be much worth paying attention to anyway. Granted, it was his first time in an inn’s room in centuries, yet he doubted much had changed.”

  With one last stride forward, he came to the bed and gently sat on the mattress. The frame groaned as it took his full weight.

  ‘This will be my first time sleeping on an actual bed since becoming the Minotaur,’ he thought to himself, feeling the give of the mattress below him. ‘The ground has been my bed for a very long time.’

  Fuku squirmed against his chest, bringing Ben’s mind back to their partnership. He was glad Fuku was so tired tonight. He had looked forward to their talk—but had also feared having to reject Fuku if it came to anything truly intimate.

  He sighed. He wasn’t sure how anything between them could really work; their size disparity alone made things… odd, to say the least—never mind the almost guardian-and-child dynamic they sometimes slipped into.

  But even so, Ben knew he would do whatever he could to make Fuku happy.

  He was falling for this wonderful bundle of fluff.

  He lay down, keeping the sleeping Tanuki held tightly against his chest as he maneuvered himself onto his back. He brought his feet up, and his hooves stuck out far beyond the end of the bed. “Of course,” he whispered.

  He wriggled onto his side, managed to fold the pillow over so that his horn wasn’t pushing his head into an odd angle, and found a semi-comfortable spot. His tail whipped up, then came back down gently on his leg.

  Fuku squirmed once more, making incoherent mumbling noises and then a loud snore.

  Ben was beyond tired, the call of sleep pulling him under. He closed his eyes and let the sandman’s lure hook deep into his subconscious.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  But then he caught a whiff of what he had mistaken for Fuku's snoring.

  ‘Oh, by all the old gods… what did he eat to cause that?’ Ben thought as he fought for air.

  The struggle was real, but in the end, Ben’s exhaustion won.

  He fell asleep with a soft smile curling his lips; even the lingering cloud of noxious gas couldn’t falter his care for the creature in his arms. Before the air could clear—he was asleep.

  ***

  The morning came much too soon. Ben blinked as the sun streamed into the room through the south-facing window. No sooner had his eyes cracked open than a small, wet tongue slid between his teeth.

  Ben flinched, his head throwing back and smacking against the wall.

  “Ow,” he moaned, looking forward to peer at the purveyor of the sneak attack.

  “Morning, dear,” Fuku said from where he lay tucked in Ben's arms.

  Ben just moaned again.

  “What? You said we could kiss more when no one was around,” Fuku said, his nose wrinkling as if he were pouting.

  “I meant last night. I’m not even really awake yet,” Ben grumbled.

  “Yeah, I’m sorry for falling asleep. Thank you for cuddling with me all night, though,” Fuku said, then moved his head in close once more.

  “Really? We’re not going to get something to drink first or anything?” Ben asked, the gummy strands of morning saliva making his mouth feel sticky as he spoke.

  Fuku stopped and looked up at Ben, then at his mouth. He sniffed.

  “Okay, maybe morning kisses should be postponed,” Fuku conceded, then lifted his snout to Ben’s and rubbed his nose against his.

  Ben shook his head, then pulled Fuku in tight. “You’re crazy, you know that, right?”

  “I just know what I want,” Fuku replied.

  Ben chuckled, then bent his head down to Fuku’s ear. “We can come back here after breakfast and kiss then, okay?”

  That got Fuku bouncing. “Let’s go eat then! Come on, Ben!” he said as he freed himself from Ben’s arms and began to drag him from the bed.

  ***

  The dining hall served a simple breakfast that morning consisting of wheat porridge, fresh berries, cream, honey, and orange juice.

  Once they'd used the facilities, Ben and Fuku arrived to find Rakxa and Ralf sitting at a table eating breakfast together. Ben wasn't sure if they were here to once again keep an eye on their comings and goings, but he wasn't one to intrude on people’s business, even if it may have concerned him.

  Fuku, however, had no such compunctions and found out why they were there in his own boisterous way.

  “Hey Rakxa! Ralf! Are you here to spy on us again today?"

  The two guards, dressed in leather as they had been the day before, began to splutter. "What?... No… I mean, yesterday you—and we were…”

  “That's fine,” Fuku interrupted cheerfully. “We're gonna eat breakfast, go kiss some more, then head out. There is treasure to find!”

  Of course, everyone in the building—and most likely everyone outside, and, Ben imagined, everyone on the island—had heard exactly what Fuku said. Announcing you were going to look for treasure was reason enough to keep that information to oneself, but it was the part about the kissing that made Ben’s cheeks feel as if they’d caught fire.

  But the Tanuki was acting clueless as usual, bouncing over to their table and taking a seat while waving his paw to get the server’s attention.

  Ben followed, his posture screaming discomfort and embarrassment. He sat at the table as well and promptly buried his face in his hands.

  He’d seen a mirror in their room that morning and had taken a long, hard look at his reflection before coming downstairs. Until now, the only reflection he’d ever seen was in the wavy water of the fountain. He had felt his shape, knew the curves of his face well enough—but seeing it clearly, sharply, and without distortion had been a shock.

  As his hands covered his eyes, feeling his cheeks and ears, that image returned to his mind’s eye. He had assumed the same color hide extended over his entire body but hadn’t known there was a lighter area around his muzzle. It was almost tan, nearly the same color as Fuku’s own highlights, and it made his black nose and large nostrils stand out even more due to the contrast.

  He had stared at himself, understanding that this was him now, but also remembering a very different face staring back at him from the past. He had never had access to a mirror of such high quality back when he was human, but he still remembered seeing his reflection from time to time.

  He’d had dark hair, darker than his hide was now, and a broad, handsome face, usually covered in a low beard of stubble. He’d had lighter eyes, too. He remembered people telling him they caught the silvery hue of an olive leaf’s underside, sparkling as the breeze shifted them.

  But the eyes that stared back at him that morning were a deep, dark amber—almost predatory. They weren’t human eyes… yet there was something in them that proved he was still more than a simple beast.

  It had been startling, and he’d wanted to stay searching his reflection longer, but Fuku had been impatient, so he’d pulled his gaze away and followed along.

  “Ben, are you still tired? Do you want some tea? That’ll wake you up,” Fuku asked, not understanding Ben’s head-down position.

  “Sure,” Ben mumbled. He heard Fuku telling the server that he wanted breakfast for both of them and a tea for him and his “partner.”

  That word called to Ben.

  “We have peppermint and dandelion, which would you like?”

  “What? No Black, or Green? No real tea?”

  The serving girl—a curvaceous hare-kin—shook her head apologetically, her long ears swaying with the motion.

  “Peppermint I guess… Why is it so hard to get good tea down here?” Fuku grumbled as she walked away.

  Last night Ben had avoided having to confront Fuku’s affection, but through his own musings, he had found himself more open to them than he’d thought possible. His care for Fuku now trumped the awkwardness of their bond, and while his body still didn’t react in a physical way, his comfort in the Tanuki's presence had deepened. At least in private.

  But there had been no talk of defining their relationship. There was nothing but what Ben believed was a peaceful night's sleep on a semi-comfortable mattress.

  But now to hear such a term from Fuku—one he’d heard the Tanuki use before when he’d expressed his interest in Ben—a word spoken in public which carried such implications…

  “Partner?” Ben whispered to Fuku.

  “What? Don’t you like that word?” Fuku asked.

  “It’s just that it implies…”

  “Would you rather I call you my boyfriend? My hubby? My…”

  “No!” Ben said, too loud. Heads turned. He’d kept his face down to avoid this very moment, and now every eye in the room was on him.

  He leaned close, hissing into Fuku’s ear. “We haven’t even… I mean, we aren’t—no—yeah, kind of, but we haven’t actually talked about it.”

  Fuku’s ears bunched forward, trembling. His eyes shimmered as though tears were ready. “What are you saying, Ben?”

  Rakxa and Ralf’s stares burned into the side of his head.

  “I’m saying we never discussed it. I didn’t know there were rules. We just—fell asleep.”

  “Do we have to spell everything out? We sleep together, I feed you, clothe you—what else do you need?”

  “It’s not that, Fuku. It’s just… we’re in public, and—”

  “Are you saying you don’t want to be with me?” His voice cracked, loud enough to carry.

  Ben panicked. “No! That’s not it—I do! I just—there are people watching—”

  Fuku’s whiskers drooped. The whole room seemed to lean closer to catch his small, sharp voice. “So all I do isn’t enough? You’re ashamed of me now?”

  “No! Never. I’m not ashamed. I’m just… private.” Ben put an arm around him, trying to soothe.

  Fuku stiffened. “Oh, you can pet me here, but you won’t acknowledge me. Alone, I’m good enough. In public? What then—your ‘friend’? Your ‘pet’?” He carved the words in the air with his paws.

  “Not a pet,” Ben said quickly. “But aren’t we friends?”

  Fuku’s ears flattened. “I thought we were more than that. I guess I was wrong.”

  He shrugged off Ben’s arm, bounced to the next chair, pulled a book from his tail, and buried his nose in it.

  Ben stared, bewildered by how fast this situation had flipped. Around him came the hiss of whispers—“only in the bedroom,” “dump him,” “knew he was a loser.” Rakxa and Ralf shoveled down their food as if they could escape through their bowls.

  Ben dropped his head into his hands again. Whatever this day was supposed to be, it was already ruined.

  “Here’s your tea.” The cup hit the table hard in front of him. Hot droplets splashed onto his arm.

  “And here’s yours, sweetie,” the server said—her tone suddenly warm and sugary as she set Fuku’s cup down with exaggerated gentleness.

  ‘Yep. This day is off to a great start,’ he thought sardonically.