Chapter 20

  Ben had felt himself rising above his body, his spirit separating just as it had done so many times in the past. Yet this time was different. He could feel the rage, the monster's hunger, welling up inside. But there wasn't just one victim here; he was surrounded.

  The body count would be huge.

  So Ben fought back.

  He held on to himself, struggled, pushed, and screamed, clinging to every scrap of decency he had left inside, but it had been too little. He felt his ties to his own body weaken and then… snap—

  —but then there was a voice.

  And with that voice came a familiar feeling. It was icy cold yet burning hot at the same time. It flooded over him, and the rage inside—faltered.

  This time, it was the monster who struggled, fighting not just against Ben, but against the energy of the Keiyaku—for Ben had gotten to know this energy well in the last few days and recognized it instantly.

  He knew it so well now that he clung to it, embraced it, and thanked all the gods—old and new—that he had made that vow in the first place.

  What had first seemed like a simple pact had turned out to be so much more.

  It was still a binding—something that held him back from being completely free. But the alternative was the curse, and with that there was no life at all, only violence and death.

  And besides… the one he was bound to had become so important to him.

  In such a short time, the small creature had shown him care. Had given him a chance at freedom. Had helped him start becoming someone new—someone who could feel affection, warmth, and camaraderie… all the things he’d been denied for so long.

  So even with the restrictions imposed by the pact, it no longer felt like a restraint.

  It felt like a connection.

  He felt Fuku’s warmth touch down on his shoulder and immediately moved to pull him close, yet the rage taking over his body grabbed at him much too tightly, seeing Fuku as an enemy, not a friend.

  That was too much, it had gone too far, and Ben’s consciousness finally regained a hold. ‘You will not hurt Fuku!’

  He forced his grip to soften, then pull the smaller Tanuki near. He could lean on Fuku’s reassuring presence—the anchor—he needed to keep himself within his body.

  In that moment, their roles reversed.

  He was the small one now—scared and struggling, needing protection—while Fuku was the giant, his arms strong enough to hold him here… to keep him safe.

  The rage struggled against the energy of the Keiyaku. Ben’s nostrils filled with the coppery tang of blood. His inner vision flashed the broken bodies of the villagers surrounding him as he towered above. The thought was grisly—born of the curse that hungered for slaughter.

  But slowly—reluctantly—the rage bled out of him, clawing at his soul as it went.

  And then he was in control again. He was Ben again.

  He sobbed, dimly aware of where he was, but too relieved to care.

  The crisis had been averted, and that was all that mattered.

  The sound of running water in the distance tugged at his memory. From the corner of his eye he could see the fountain, merrily flowing as though nothing had happened at all. And he understood then—that had been the trigger—the reason the monster within had been able to surface.

  He didn’t know how long he had been standing there with his companion pressed to his chest and tears flowing over his cheeks, but a new voice—one he hadn’t heard before—finally broke through the reverie.

  “Uh-hmmm…” He coughed, “Excuse me. I don’t mean to interrupt… whatever is happening here… but could you perhaps explain who you truly are and, well… why you are not wearing pants?”

  Ben finally opened his eyes fully and took in his surroundings. A quick sweep of the area revealed an older man standing nearby, a wooden cane in one hand, with a younger gentleman hovering nervously behind him.

  Ben lifted his head from atop its fuzzy pillow and felt Fuku shift too, looking up at him. He glanced down at his dear friend and managed a weak smile.

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  Fuku returned the smile—beaming, as though they were seeing each other for the first time after a long journey apart. Ben’s heart skipped at the sight. It wasn’t what most people would call a smile—small sharp teeth, black lips pulled back along a short muzzle—but Ben’s idea of “normal” had been dissolving like foam on a river. To him, that smile was perfect, because it came from the person he had come to cherish.

  He wanted to stay in that moment… but reality required his attention. With regret, he turned away from his companion—toward the one who had spoken—an old goat-man, he now realized.

  The man’s eyes held the rectangular pupils of his kind, and his patchy gray fur clung to his body in thin, uneven streaks, like it had been glued in place. He smelled of urine and medicinal balms—the scent of old age.

  “I am sorry for my actions,” Ben said. “There are certain things about me you do not understand, but I must know something. That fountain… does it have any ties to the old goddess Adrasteia?”

  The elder looked from him to the fountain, then back before responding. “Why yes… it’s supposed to be the match to the one in the Labyrinth, the same which blessed you with your form.”

  At this description, Ben felt Fuku’s head spin around, ready to retort, but Ben answered first. “I see. There is much you should know about that fountain, myself, and the old gods. Is there a place, preferably inside, where we may speak?”

  Ben watched the old goat look at a largish building across the street. “Yes. Let’s all get some breakfast and talk over food.”

  Ben heard a female voice speak then. “Do you need help with your… covering?”

  He looked to see the same bovine female from earlier standing by his side, her face blushed red and her eyes looking at the ground. Ben hadn’t realized the blanket he had worn was no longer covering him. He had gone so long without needing to cover himself that doing so now felt more wrong than his nudity.

  He opened his mouth to thank her and tell her that he did indeed need help, when Fuku squeezed out of his arms, fell to the ground, and in one amazingly dexterous move, lifted the blanket back up into place and tied it securely before bouncing once again into Ben’s arms.

  “There,” Fuku said once planted again in Ben’s arm. “No more showing off.”

  Ben couldn’t help but smile and chuckle at his friends' antics.

  ***

  The building they were led to was less a tavern and more a dining hall. There was an area designated for drinking—a bar of sorts—but the main area was covered in tables and chairs. The walls held multiple windows with gauzy drapes that filtered the sunlight. The room smelled of cooking—the heartiness of baked goods, the roasting of meat, spices, sugar, and smoke. Ben hadn't smelled anything like it in centuries and breathed deeply of the aromas.

  But all was not well. The longer he stayed in the building, the more he felt himself growing weak. He hadn't been able to last long inside the city they had visited, and Fuku had theorized that the metals used in construction were to blame. Ben feared the same thing was happening again.

  “Fuku, I am feeling weary, the same way I did when we entered the city,” he whispered to his companion.

  Fuku looked up at him thoughtfully, bringing a paw to his face and pulling down a cheek as though looking deeper into Ben's eye. “Hmmm…” he said, then brought his paw to his ear and began scratching.

  “I fear it is the metals here, the ones you spoke of before,” Ben continued, attempting to keep their conversation from the ears of the Beast-kin still accompanying them.

  “I do too,” Fuku replied. The Tanuki scanned the room. “Let me try something.”

  He bounced over to the bar, whispered something quick to the large dog-kin bartender with floppy ears, long hair, and a wide, gentle face, then hopped away again as if satisfied with whatever answer he’d gotten.

  Ben lowered himself into a chair, the wood groaning under his weight. His knees had begun to feel like jelly, and sitting was a blessing. He could feel his eyelids growing heavy.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Fuku, meanwhile, had already sprung from the bar to the nearest wall sconce. He plucked it off with a sharp tug, then stuffed it neatly into his tail. A moment later he bounced to a hanging decoration, then a candle holder, then anything else that was metal and within reach. Each item vanished into his tail as he made a rapid circuit around the hall.

  Then, the metal from the room removed, he bounced toward the kitchen doorway and disappeared inside—only to pop out a few seconds later.

  The room’s occupants watched with increasing bewilderment, their eyes tracking every hop and grab. Whispered questions spread behind cupped hands, ears and tails twitching as they tried to figure out what exactly the strange creature was doing—and why he was allowed to do it.

  It was still a strange sight to Ben, who had never interacted with Beast-kin before—seeing so many different species gathered in one place. Yet it reminded him of the age before his curse, of the small communities he had once visited, the way people lived together without fear.

  “Your name is Ben, I gather?” the elder goat-man asked. “Are you truly the Minotaur of old? And how did you manage to leave the Labyrinth?”

  Ben had been watching Fuku; the longer the little creature moved, the more metal he gathered, the stronger he seemed to feel.

  “That was due to Fuku’s help,” Ben said quietly. “He freed me.”

  He turned back to the elder. “The fountain there… it isn’t a blessing, as your tales claim. It’s a curse.”

  He gave the elder a brief account of how he’d defeated the Minotaur before him and had drunk from the fountain, believing its waters were truly blessed. “Which they were, in a way. They granted eternal life and great strength, just as promised. But you can see for yourselves the cruel trick behind those gifts. And there is much more to it than simply taking this form.”

  Meanwhile, the bouncing Tanuki had located all the metal near the tables—silverware, pitchers, butter dishes, anything with even a hint of shine—and whisked them away to the kitchen as he had with everything else.

  At last, finished with his rounds, Fuku bounced back over. Ben shifted his chair just far enough from the table for the Tanuki to hop into his lap, settling comfortably between Ben’s stomach and the edge of the table.

  “Thank you, Fuku. I’m feeling better now—removing the metal helped greatly.”

  “I told them to only use wooden plates and things too. No metal for now.”

  Ben nodded with an approving grunt and patted the Tanuki’s head affectionately, then continued his tale for the elder.

  “I see…” the elder murmured once Ben finished, with Fuku having interjected at every opportunity with his own colorful descriptions of their escape. “So the prophecy, our beliefs… it seems they may all be wrong. A tale spun by a fool who believed Beast-kin and humans could not coexist.”

  “It sounds that way,” Ben lamented.

  “He may not be the hero you guys were hoping for,” Fuku piped up brightly, “but that doesn’t mean we don’t need food and stuff—and I have lots of coins.”

  Almost as if summoned, a server laid two wooden plates on the table, one in front of the elder, the other in front of Ben—or Fuku, really, since he was closer. Then another pair of servers brought out platters filled with smoked meats, fruit, pastries, cheese, yogurt, porridge, eggs… anything one could want for breakfast. Ben watched Fuku wipe the spittle from his chin, his own mouth watering at the spread.

  They had been joined by Rakxa, the young man who was the elder’s assistant, the bovine girl for some reason, and one other. This final person had yet to be introduced, but They—for Ben was unsure of their gender—had remained silent and observant the entire time. They were a form of reptile that Ben couldn’t easily place, with small scales that seemed to morph and blend into different patterns and colors. Their eyes were large and bulged from their flat face, moving independently of each other.

  “Please, help yourself,” the elder said.

  More plates were set down, and the others at the table dug into the food.

  Fuku—never one to wait for an invitation—had already piled his plate high and was happily chomping away on a sweet biscuit he’d topped with bacon.

  Ben smiled at his friend. In many ways, the Tanuki was his opposite: young-acting, brash, spontaneous. Ben often winced at the things Fuku said or did, yet he also knew he would be utterly lost without him. Fuku was the counterbalance to his stoicism and naivete.

  He was about to ask more about the fountain when a slab of meat suddenly lifted toward his face—its target unmistakably his mouth. Fuku, of course, was holding it out to him in offering.

  Ben inwardly chuckled and took a bite.

  “The fountain here,” he said after swallowing, “is very similar to the one in the Labyrinth. So similar, in fact, that it dragged me back to my time there—which was… not pleasant.”

  He wasn’t about to tell them how close they’d come to dying by his hands that morning.

  “I am sorry to hear that,” the elder said softly. “Is that why you… well… why your companion appeared?”

  “Yes. I… his presence is reassuring to me in many ways,” Ben replied, careful not to reveal too much—not with so many ears swiveling to catch every word. He took another bite, letting the food fill his mouth so he wouldn’t have to say more.

  “Yeah, it was me that saved you all from being slaughtered by the monster inside Ben,” Fuku said casually.

  Ben choked, the meat catching in his throat. “Fuku…”

  “What? I did,” Fuku insisted. “You were about to go full murder-bull on them. If it wasn’t for me, this whole town would be drowning in blood and screams right now.”

  Every fork and spoon stilled. Every ear perked and froze. Conversations died mid-sentence. Dozens of eyes swiveled toward them.

  A hush swept the hall. Fuku hadn’t spoken quietly—every Beast-kin here was now straining to understand what the Tanuki had meant.

  Ben felt their stares drilling into him—the questions, the fear, the nervousness bleeding through every Beast-kin face. Each stilled tail. Each twitch of whiskers.

  Fuku, oblivious—or pretending to be—popped a berry into his mouth and lifted his arm to offer one to Ben. Ben stared down at him, horrified.

  “What? It’s the truth,” Fuku said, voice small and innocent.

  “The fear we felt then… that was the real truth, wasn’t it? The real you?” Rakxa’s voice cut through the silence—cold, sharp. Her eyes narrowed, and her paw slid to her hilt, the blade rasping as it began to leave the scabbard.

  Ben sighed. He hated talking about this—truly hated it—but there was no avoiding it now. And he and Fuku were going to have a long talk later.

  He raised his voice so all could hear.

  “The thing you saw… it is part of me. It’s the curse. The fountain triggered it. The one in your square—it’s the same sound, the same relentless babble I lived with for over seven hundred years.

  “When I heard it, the monster bound inside me tried to break free.

  “I lost control.”

  His gaze softened as he looked at Fuku. “But Fuku… he brought me back.”

  “Lost control? What does that mean?” Rakxa pressed. Her paw still gripped the hilt, her stare dangerous.

  “I would rather not—” Ben began, but Fuku interrupted.

  “Like I said, he gets all—‘I must murder everybody’—but as long as I stay close, there’s nothing to worry about. And I’m staying as close as possible from now on.”

  Ben fought the urge to smack the Tanuki across the head. “Ahem… yes. As long as Fuku is by my side, I am fine. Our bond keeps the curse at bay.”

  “What bond do you speak of?” the elder inquired.

  Ben exhaled. “I suppose… since most of it is already known—”

  “It’s called a Keiyaku,” Fuku said brightly. “It’s a magical oath my species used to use on humans back in the Silent Age. Ben gave me his life when I freed him, and now it keeps him calm and does a bunch of other things. I’d never done one before—didn’t even know how—it just kinda happened. But now this big guy and me are bound forever.”

  “It keeps the curse at bay?” the elder asked quietly.

  “You aren’t going to change again?” Rakxa said more than asked.

  “Yes,” Ben answered, steadying his voice. “As Fuku—so eloquently stated—the bond between us anchors me. It keeps the curse from taking over. With him near, there is no threat.”

  The room slowly came alive again. Whispered conversations slowly filled the silence. The people sitting at the table looked at one another, then back at Fuku who munched merrily away as though no one else existed.

  With a sharp click, Rakxa slid her blade fully back into its sheath.

  Ben glared down at the back of Fuku’s head, but a small, chubby paw lifted a piece of toast slathered in melted butter up towards his mouth, and Ben’s jaw closed around it obediently.

  ***

  The rest of the breakfast was relatively quiet. They told the people at the table what they were there for—but not about Fuku’s grander quest. That, apparently, was something he actually could keep a secret.

  The bovine girl, Duria, had taken the shorts to the seamstress, and the elder had said they were free to gather what provisions they needed. Ralf joined them, taking Duria’s seat. Rakxa left the table shortly after, though she stayed standing nearby, her watchful gaze never leaving Ben or Fuku.

  Finally, the remaining occupant of the table spoke. Ben had all but forgotten about the person. He knew there was someone there, but his eyes tended to not look at him.

  “It seems you’ve had a rather eventful journey,” They said. They wore no upper body covering, only a small, skirt-like garment around their midsection. “Do you know where you are heading next? It seems as though our ideas of you as a revolutionary hero have been thwarted, so I don’t imagine you’d be staying here long.”

  Their voice felt slimy, the words leaving a wet trail along Ben’s ear-holes.

  “We do have a destination. Our goal will lead us back to Fuku’s home, eventually,” Ben told the person.

  “I see,” They said, “a long journey indeed.”

  Fuku shivered in Ben’s lap before speaking. “Yes, but that will be after we journey to other lands first. That’s why Ben has to have some decent clothing, and we’ll need supplies.”

  The person just nodded, their eyes scanning the room, each one looking in a different direction. “Well, good journeys to you then,” They said and rose from the table. Their scales had turned a dark red with gold highlights in wave-like patterns running through them. And with that, They left, Their tail sweeping the ground behind him.

  “Who was that?” Fuku asked once he’d exited.

  “Oh, him? He’s… well, since you shared your stories with us—he’s the augur of this town. If you’d lied, or meant this place harm, he would have sensed it,” the elder explained.

  “Ooo… good thing the truth is the best story, then. I do enjoy spinning tales,” Fuku replied.

  Ben shook his head and rolled his eyes.

  “Yeah, we were supposed to kill you if he turned black,” Ralf said through a mouthful of egg—spraying crumbs back onto his plate and the table.

  A paw slapped the back of Ralf’s head as Rakxa reprimanded him. Ralf turned to protest, and the two guards immediately fell into bickering.

  “I thought of doing that to you earlier… but it seems you had the right idea,” Ben whispered down to Fuku.

  “What? Why? You would never hit me, would you?”

  “You know why. You didn’t need to tell them how close I was to…” He trailed off.

  Fuku’s expression shifted from innocent to playfully mischievous. “Oh, right. I couldn’t let them get too comfortable with you—or you get too comfortable here. I knew who he was from the start. We had to tell the truth, so I made sure it was fun.”

  Ben felt Fuku’s tail swish against him—it was… an interesting sensation, given the Tanuki’s position in his lap.

  “Besides—we still have a long way to go, my handsome First of the Beast-kin.”

  Ben couldn’t help rolling his eyes again, not missing the clever way Fuku had twisted the villagers’ reverent title—one that didn’t apply to him at all—into something that sounded far more salacious.