Chapter 4

  Getting inside wasn’t the issue. He could have done that with his eyes closed.

  Once inside, things got slightly more interesting.

  First off, both the farmer and his wife were huge. Not just tall, but fat too.

  “They certainly enjoy their lamb chops, don’t they?” he snickered to himself as he silently walked through the main room.

  From the kitchen, the wife turned towards him, her round face squishing together as she squinted toward the faint sound of Fuku’s remark.

  ‘Oh, sharp ears. Probably means she doesn’t see well,’ Fuku thought as he froze in place, waiting until her gaze drifted elsewhere.

  Then he tiptoed toward the far end of the room and whispered, “Sooey,” before darting off, stifling a laugh.

  He couldn’t help himself, humans were just so much fun to mess with.

  He couldn’t judge too much, of course. He was rather plump himself—though he always claimed it was his luxurious fur. Truth was, he enjoyed a good belly rub—and a little extra padding only made him more rubbable. Should the opportunity present itself, of course.

  He padded into the bedroom and beheld a bed clearly built to withstand the weight of the huge couple. It wasn’t just a four-poster—it was practically a cabin with a mattress for a floor. The legs were thick, squat logs almost as round as he was, the underframe just as heavy and reinforced.

  The mattresses—mattress-es?—were ancient: two sagging, spring-stuffed pallets pushed side by side. The cloth was worn thin, barely containing the coils that looked ready to poke through at any moment. Piles of bedding were heaped on one side, while the other held only a thin gray blanket. The air smelled of must and human sweat, cloying even against the summer breeze drifting through the open window.

  ‘I’d hate to be that bed when those two get frisky.’ Fuku shuddered at the mental image and gave his head a quick shake.

  He glanced around for a closet.

  ‘At least finding something to fit Ben shouldn’t be as much of an issue,’ he thought as he padded over to a large wardrobe.

  He flung open the doors and beheld an array of colorful clothing—so many large garments that a single seamstress would have been proud to finish them all in a year's time.

  He whistled, then immediately clamped his paws over his mouth.

  Heavy footsteps began thundering in his direction.

  He hadn’t removed the leaf, but his Disappear-leaf—one of his handier tricks—never worked as well on people who listened or sniffed better than they saw. Anyone with sharp ears or a good nose could cut right through his magic—not that he smelled bad or anything.

  So he dove to the opposite side of the bed and—tried—to squeeze underneath.

  But the bed was a bit too low for his tummy. His extra belly-rub thickness was working against him. He knew he could use Reduction, but that would leave him the size of a mouse for five minutes—so he was reluctant to resort to that unless absolutely necessary.

  He froze, not daring to move, as the footsteps entered the room and stopped. He could practically feel the woman squinting into the shadows, listening. In his mind’s eye she already stood with a kitchen knife raised, ready to stab whatever had dared creep into her house.

  Then the dog outside began barking.

  He heard the farmer outside say something but couldn’t make it out.

  The dog barked again, its tone more intense.

  Fuku felt a shiver of dread run up his spine. The dog—it must have noticed Ben.

  But the noise seemed to pull the woman’s attention away as well. She turned and walked toward the front door, shouting something to her husband about his sword.

  This was Fuku’s chance. He scurried back to the wardrobe.

  With a silent apology to the woman—for having such bad taste—and to Ben, for what he was about to have to wear, Fuku grabbed several of the large floral dresses—and bolted.

  He scampered to the window—luckily, it was open. With the leaf still perched on his head, he bounced through the frame, stuffing the massive pieces of cloth into his Ever-deep Tail as he went. He landed with a soft thud and immediately bolted back toward where Ben waited.

  Just ahead, the farmer unlocked the gate. The dog shot out like an arrow, heading straight for Ben’s location. Exactly what Fuku had feared—the animal had caught his scent or heard something, and now it was locked onto him.

  There was no time to think, only act. As he sprinted, Fuku ran a rapid inventory of his remaining tricks. Mystic Paw would be perfect here—but he’d already spent his uses of that skill back in the Labyrinth while sneaking his way to the center.

  All he had left for the day that would help in any way was Gust… and his remaining use of Fleetfoot.

  So that’s what he used. The skill flared to life. Fleetfoot gave him an instant boost of swiftness and balance; his body reacted faster, his muscles pushing past their normal limits. But even then, he still wasn’t fast enough to catch the running dog.

  ‘Next—’ he thought, triggering Gust as he hurled himself into the air. The skill summoned a sharp gale from whatever direction he needed. It wasn’t a massive wind, but it was enough to shove him forward—and that was exactly what he needed right now. The air answered at once, cold against his tail as the gust hammered into his backside and blasted him ahead like a fluffy missile.

  Mid-air, he pulled one of the dresses from his tail and landed just yards ahead of the barking dog, feet away from where he had noticed Ben pushing himself up from the ground.

  With Fleetfoot still active, he was already running before his paws even touched the dirt. “Come on, doggo!” he yelled, waving the dress in the air behind him as he ran and bounced away from where Ben lay.

  The dog saw the new target—how could he not, with that dress being a full-on barrage of red and yellow—and followed right along.

  Fleetfoot only lasted a couple of minutes, but he knew he had to squeeze every last second out of it. His plan was to circle back toward the house—keep the dog locked onto him and pull it even farther from Ben’s hiding spot.

  With any luck, he could use the farmhouse as an obstacle, shake the dog, then double back to where Ben had wisely ducked beneath the crops.

  ‘Good boy, Ben. I’ll be back in a jif,’ Fuku thought as he rounded a corner, sprang cleanly over a stack of chopped wood, and giggled when the dog behind him barked and barreled after him.

  ***

  Several long minutes later, panting, Fuku collapsed against Ben’s flank and let the leaf slip from his head.

  The farmer had shoved the dog back into the sheep pen after it shredded the dress and lost interest in returning to what had first drawn its attention—namely, Ben.

  “Fuku,” Ben whispered as the Tanuki leaned against his side. “Are you okay? Was that you?”

  Fuku lifted a paw, one clawed finger raised in the universal sign for hold on a minute. He wheezed, caught his breath, then finally replied.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. But… you’re gonna have to be a very ugly woman for a while.”

  ***

  Once the farmer had gone inside, Fuku and Ben slipped away. The dog barked once after them, but trapped in the pen, it couldn’t give chase—so their escape went clean.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  They walked—or in Fuku’s case, bounced—until they reached a small copse of trees. The undergrowth was thick with saplings, and as they approached, a family of deer bounded free, vanishing into the fields.

  Pushing deeper, they found a clearing at the center. The air was heavy with pollen, rich with the scent of verdant life. Unlike the carefully tended fields, this place was wild and untamed. The smell struck something deep in Ben, reminding him of his youth.

  They made no fire, but Fuku happily produced some rations and offered them to the Minotaur.

  “I can only eat the fruit of the vine within the Labyrinth,” Ben said, shaking his head.

  “Are you sure?” Fuku asked. Right on cue, a low growl rumbled from Ben’s stomach. “You’re not in the Labyrinth anymore. Those rules might not apply out here.”

  Ben frowned. The hunger was real, but the sensation was so unfamiliar after centuries that he had brushed it off as nerves. What else had he dismissed? Was he… thirsty?

  “Do you have water?” he asked at last.

  “Not the fountain stuff—the kind you’re used to, but I do have regular water. But I could offer you something a little stronger, if you’d rather,” Fuku replied with a grin.

  He set the jerky and bread he’d been nibbling on across his stubby legs. His fluffy, striped tail whipped around as he plunged both paws inside, rummaging for something unseen. Several long seconds passed before one paw emerged gripping a waterskin, the other following close behind with a corked clay jug.

  Ben watched in amazement, curiosity nagging at him to ask—but he held his tongue, unsure whether it was appropriate.

  “Water… or sake?” Fuku asked, holding both up in offering.

  “Water will be fine, thank you,” Ben said as he reached for the skin.

  “More for me,” Fuku said cheerfully as he handed over the water and uncorked the jug. He tipped it back, holding it by the small handle near the top and letting the amber liquid pour down his throat.

  Ben caught the scent of alcohol—it smelled good—but he stuck with the water, sipping a little at first to test it.

  The moment it touched his tongue, his taste buds seemed to reawaken, his throat—parched without him realizing—soaked it up and begged for more.

  So Ben obliged and turned the skin upside down, draining it in one large, long gulp.

  When he lowered his head again, the skin now empty, he found Fuku staring at him.

  “They say Tanuki drink fast, but none I’ve met could hold a candle to you,” Fuku grinned. “Water and sake are very different, of course, but good sake can be just as smooth when it’s made right.”

  Ben’s stomach growled again.

  Perhaps I should at least attempt to eat something… if you truly don’t mind,” Ben said, dipping his head in embarrassment.

  “There’s plenty of grass. Munch all you want,” the Tanuki teased, pointing toward a tall patch nearby.

  Ben followed the gesture, staring at the grass. His stomach rumbled again, and with a sigh, he started to push himself up.

  “I’m just kidding, cow. Here.” Fuku shoved a piece of dried meat and bread into his hands. “Sorry this has to be your first meal. I wasn’t exactly planning to leave the way we did. Have you ever tried the beef kabobs in Knossos? They are so good—”

  Fuku stopped mid-rave, realizing just how offensive that might sound.

  “I mean… Knossos… what a dump. And chicken, yes, chicken kabobs. Those are good. Mmm… chicken.”

  Ben just stared at him.

  Fuku looked back into the Minotaur’s large brown eyes, uncertain what emotion he might find there after his slip-up.

  Then Ben’s lips curled at the end of his long snout in a smile. “Chicken… sure,” he said, holding up the slab of jerky before biting into it.

  At the sight, Fuku lost it. He tumbled backward, nearly spilling his sake as he roared with laughter.

  While Fuku laughed, Ben chewed thoughtfully. The jerky wasn’t heavily spiced, and it was extremely dry—but it was still the first food, other than the vine’s fruit, to pass his tongue in a very long time. It didn’t taste like the dried meat he remembered from his youth; this was overly salty, and the unfamiliar spices left him feeling more peculiar than satisfied.

  “You… you made a funny! That was great, Ben,” Fuku said once he’d finally regained control of himself.

  Ben smiled again. “Just don’t call me a cow anymore, if you would. If anything, I’m a bull—though Minotaur would be the more proper term.”

  “Oh, I know… you’ve got those low hangers to prove it. That sack’s bigger than the one I bounce around on every day.”

  Fuku chuckled at the comparison, and Ben—feeling what he suspected might be embarrassment—folded his legs tighter and continued eating in silence, his mind heavy with questions.

  “Fuku, may I ask you something?” he finally ventured.

  “Go ahead, cow… I mean, Ben. I still need a pet name for you. Brownie? No. Bully? No…”

  Ben cut him off. “I would like to know what has happened over the last—”

  This time Fuku interrupted. “Seven… uhh… seven hundred years—give or take.” He said it softly, looking up at Ben with genuine compassion.

  “Seven hundred…” Ben’s voice trailed away.

  “You said you entered around the year 3000. That would have meant the Silent Age. That age ended around 3500, and it’s now the year 201, so…”

  “The Silent Age?” Ben asked, his voice a mix of shock and curiosity. “I don’t remember anyone calling my time that—it was just… the year. Why would you call it that?”

  “It’s just what people started saying,” Fuku replied with a small shrug. “Magic wasn’t around like it is now, so someone called it the Silent Age and the name stuck.”

  “Then what is this age called?”

  “This is the Time of Confluence,” Fuku said, then continued explaining, understanding that Ben needed the context.

  “Just over 200 years ago, something happened. The entire world shook. No one I have talked to knows why, but the shaking caused something both wonderful and dreadful to happen. The lines of power—the ley lines—which crisscross the world fell into proper alignment.”

  “They were misaligned before?” Ben asked.

  “Apparently. According to the gods—the surviving ones, at least—the ley lines were slightly out of balance before. The alignment snapped them back together, and with those reconnections came a new wellspring of magical power. It was more than most of the old gods could handle. Most didn’t survive it… but the few who did have been able to interact more with the world, sharing what they know and helping push all this new knowledge and technology forward.”

  Fuku paused for a moment and took another drink from his jug. “Not everything was great, though. The alignment changed everything—mostly for the better… but it took things away too. Some places were shut off by it. Mystical paths that were open before are closed now.”

  Ben stared at the Tanuki and saw an expression he hadn't seen before. It spoke of loss and hardship. It made Ben wonder if Fuku’s journey had been more difficult than he let on.

  “You weren’t there… were you?” Ben asked, trying to find the source of the Tanuki’s sad expression.

  “I was… though I was barely a pup,” Fuku continued. “But that leads me to what I’m doing, and how you can help.”

  Ben blinked. He knew there was more story there, but didn’t want to pry too far into Fuku’s past. “I can’t believe… I mean you seem so young, it’s…” he trailed off.

  He hadn’t really considered much beyond today. He was free, but now faced life as an outcast. That was all he’d been able to deal with. Things were changing much too fast.

  “Why, thank you for noticing!” Fuku said suddenly, his grin returning. “I have a very strict skin-and-fur routine that keeps my youthful glow.”

  He swept his tail up in front of him like a fluffy stole, stroking it gently with both paws as his eyes blinked rapidly, lids turned down in what he clearly thought was a sultry expression.

  Ben only tilted his head, brow furrowed, clearly baffled by the display.

  With a sharp flick, Fuku tossed the tail back down. His ears twitched in annoyance, and he gave a quick roll of his eyes before his small face grew serious again. “Ugh, fine… I think there’s a way to reopen some of those paths I mentioned, and I need someone strong—like you—to help me find what I’ll need to do it,” he said bluntly.

  “Me?” Ben asked, still shocked at being included in all this.

  “Yes, you! A big, strong, handso… I mean handy, yes, a handy man like you is exactly what I need to find the oddities I seek in order to…”

  Fuku stopped mid-sentence, looked up at Ben, and exhaled. “Look. I really need you to come along with me, to help me. But if you’re not ready to do that, then I can’t tell you exactly what I’m looking for.”

  He stoppered the jug with his other paw, looking forlornly at the remaining liquid inside. “This is important to me, and I need your help. You vowed to give me whatever you could… I don’t want to use that oath against you. I’d really like you to accompany me, but only if you’re willing. It has to be your choice. I know it’s quick, but I need a decision before I go on.”

  Fuku was right; this was a big decision.

  And it took Ben all of two seconds to make it.

  “I have no one and nothing now. You are my only tie to this new world. Of course I will follow you. I owe you my life.”

  His words came out low and rough, but steady. Ben didn’t look away—he meant every word.

  Across from him, Fuku’s ears dipped and his eyes shone, tears gathering faster than Ben thought possible.

  “Thanks, Ben,” Fuku whispered.

  Then the Tanuki launched himself forward and slammed into Ben’s stomach—arms wrapping around him as far as they could go, face pressed into Ben’s hide.

  Ben’s reaction was… complicated.

  First came the flinch of surprise at the Tanuki’s quickness. He tilted back, arms half-raised, unsure what to do with this small creature that had suddenly attached itself to his abdomen.

  He had been alone for so long that every touch felt strange and uncomfortable. It literally made his skin crawl.

  And yet, beneath that discomfort, something stirred. The touch felt… good? Normal? Like something he’d missed for a very long time—but hadn’t allowed himself to admit.

  Inside the dome, there had been no one. Nothing. The desire for another’s touch had faded so completely that now it felt foreign, almost disturbing.

  So it took several long moments—his hide twitching at the unfamiliar contact—before Ben finally managed to overcome his nerves and lower his arms. His hand settled on the ball of fluff clinging to his stomach, and he gave the most clumsy pat imaginable.

  Fuku stayed there for minutes, until Ben had moved from initial shock to a new sensation of distinct, undeniable awkwardness.

  “Uhh… Fuku?”

  “Yes, Ben?” came the muffled voice from near his sternum.

  “You know how normal people… have to do certain things after they eat and drink?”

  Fuku’s head popped up, his eyes blinking curiously. “Like what?”

  “You know—the afterwards part. When… stuff comes out?”

  Fuku’s eyes widened in sudden understanding. “You have to poop?”

  Ben felt his face flush, though he wasn’t sure if any reddening would even show beneath his fur in the dim light. “And the other as well… I believe.”

  “See? I told you things are going to be different out here,” Fuku said and finally let go.

  Ben tried to smile, tried to keep calm, but during the awkward hug, those sensations had crept up on him. It was something he hadn’t felt before in this body and had taken a while to recognize. But now it felt as though his bladder was about to burst, and the other… well, he hoped he could stand and move away before he had an accident.

  Fuku hopped out of the way, and Ben somehow managed to stand and stumble from the campsite—just in time.

  Behind him, as seven centuries’ worth of fountain water and fruit finally decided to evacuate his body all at once, he heard Fuku’s cackling laughter.

  Ben had longed for company for so long, and the one who found him was nothing like he’d ever imagined. The Tanuki’s presence was odd… but also oddly comforting.

  Though at the moment, any thoughts about that were drowned out by his body’s uncontrollable excretions.