Chapter 3

Fuku watched Ben take in the world below, still clinging tightly to the Minotaur’s arm. He could feel the new bond humming between them.

With nothing else to give, Ben had sealed their pact with a promise of himself. They had formed a Keiyaku—an old magic. The kind of trick certain Yōkai once used to trap humans into servitude.

But Fuku had no intention of using it that way. Truth be told, this was his first time forming such a pact, and it had happened without him even trying. Still, he had no desire to exploit this Minotaur. 

He was independent, yes. But lonely. His only real needs were protection… and hopefully some companionship. And Fuku was starting to think this big, sad Minotaur might fit both roles rather nicely.

So he held tight, feeling the warmth and strength of the large arm beneath his paws—but he also felt the violent shivers running through Ben’s body and travelling into his own.

Fuku didn’t fully understand what Ben was seeing, but he could imagine how disturbing this new world must look to him.

He hadn’t lied about the year earlier—just simplified it. When Ben had mentioned “3000,” Fuku had done the quick, sad math in his head.

 The old calendar of the Silent Age had ended around the year 3500. Which meant Ben had already been trapped for five centuries before the Time of Confluence even began. Five centuries, plus the two hundred and one years since the new calendar had started…

 Fuku’s paws squeezed tighter around Ben’s arm. The truth was staggering. Ben had been locked away for more than seven hundred years.

He hadn’t known quite what to expect when entering the Labyrinth. It was a dungeon from the past—before the Alignment. Most ruins from that era had been temples or shrines to the old gods, places that only became dungeons with the coming of the Time of Confluence.

But this one had been different. Already a dungeon. Already steeped in its own strange power. That alone had earned it a place on Fuku’s list.

The monsters inside had been easy enough to sneak past, so he pressed on, deeper and deeper, until he reached the end. Until he found what he’d been looking for.

 When he’d entered the Labyrinth, it had been to find an oddity—something that didn’t belong. And he had found one. But there was more to this dungeon than expected. Unlike the other dungeons he’d dealt with, the boss of the Labyrinth had… depth. He was running on something more than pure primal instinct. And that was intriguing.

So he’d taken a chance, curious to see what would happen if the Minotaur were freed. He could always run and hide if things went wrong—those were his specialties. But things hadn’t gone wrong. In fact, Ben had tried to sacrifice himself to protect Fuku. 

That told him all he needed.

At first, Fuku had thought him just another boss, another beast bound to guard whatever treasures the dungeon held. But then the Minotaur had yelled—had warned him away from the fountain. He had shown Fuku the curse’s true effect, had pleaded for him to escape, refusing to condemn another soul to take his place.

It was in that moment Fuku began to see differently. This wasn’t a monster at all. This was a person.

He was a Tanuki. Not a fighter, not a magician. He had tricks—small skills to alter his form, to stay unnoticed. But if he wanted to keep delving into dungeons where real monsters lurked, he needed more. He needed strength.

 And he’d seen that strength in Ben.

‘Wait wait wait… it’s not like that. I didn’t go bouncing in there looking to find a hunky Minotaur to bind to myself—that’s just how it worked out.’

Still, he wanted to set him free. No one should be trapped in a room, cursed to do… whatever a Minotaur does… for 700 years. That was just wrong. So he’d found a way to free Ben, and it had been easier than expected.

But the pact—the bond—that was the honey on top of the huge stack of pancakes.

So now he just had to convince Ben to be the muscle.

Yes, he could technically force him. The Keiyaku ensured there would be consequences if Ben didn’t follow through, but Fuku had no desire to do that. Slaves are awful. And useless in a fight anyway.

‘No, I just need to make him understand. To want to go with me,’ Fuku thought. ‘I have my ways. I’ll have him eating out of my paw in no time.’

‘First things first, though. A huge naked Minotaur walking around is going to get a lot of unwanted attention, no matter where we land. Not only are bovine beast-kin rare, but he still has human parts—like his hands and his… dangly bits.’

‘Clothes. Big ones. A cloak, maybe a robe. Yes, that should cover him well enough for now.’

Fuku nodded to himself, already planning how he was going to disguise his new bodyguard—and soon-to-be friend—when they landed.

***

They touched down in a field just outside one of the cities they’d seen from above. The landing was cushioned by the crop… though their weight left plenty of plants flattened in their wake.

“Stand up, please,” Fuku said.

Ben did, and the leaf they had been riding on vanished with a faint pop. Fuku finally released his arm and gave a little bounce on the ground.

“That was fun. I need to find more of those leaves,” the furball said.

Fuku didn’t seem to stand—at least not since Ben had known him. He sat and bounced on his… well, Ben wasn’t entirely sure he believed what he was seeing. But in that strange, bouncing posture, the creature’s head barely came up to Ben’s waist.

Ben had always known he was large; the way he had towered over intruders in the Labyrinth had shown him that. But compared to Fuku, he was massive.

“First things first, we need to cover that thing,” Fuku said, pointing at the area where Ben’s privates swung openly.

Ben looked down. It had been so long he had all but forgotten he was nude. In the dome it hadn’t mattered; it was simply how he existed there. But now, under the real sky, he remembered—when he was human, covering himself had been the norm.

“There’s a farm nearby,” Fuku continued. “Let’s hope the farmer’s a big guy. Or his wife. Either way, I’ll grab you some clothes if I can find anything.”

Ben only nodded. It was all too surreal. He actually missed his fountain, his dome. He looked up at the sky—the actual sky—and while it was beautiful, it was… wrong. The painted clouds on the dome’s ceiling had never moved, but these—they drifted even as he watched.

“It really happened, didn’t it?” he said softly.

He hadn’t expected an answer, but Fuku gave one anyway. “It did. You’re free! But if you don’t get some clothes and blend in, your freedom could be short-lived.”

That caught his attention. “What do you mean?”

Fuku sagged a little—literally. His ‘sack,’ the strange cushion he bounced upon, deflated as if air had escaped it.

“Ben… you’ve been gone a long time. The world’s changed since you were trapped. We’ll talk later if you like. But people won’t see you as a human, not in that body. Especially not around here. If you want to stay free, I can help, but you’ll have to stick with me. You’ll have to listen and follow my lead. Is that Okay?”

Ben nodded. He had seen enough from above to know things were different. He understood the need to hide. Unless animals now commonly walked in human-like bodies, he would stand out instantly.

‘But how much did people know about him?’

 Obviously, adventurers still entered the Labyrinth—but he was fairly certain none ever returned. There wasn’t supposed to be a way out—except past him. So did they still speak of the Minotaur? Did they still tell children stories of a huge horned monster waiting at the end of the maze? Was he still a legend whispered in fear?

He didn’t know. What he did know was that once he might have walked into a town and asked for clothing, but now? Covered in rough hide and topped with large horns stained red from the amount of human blood they’d absorbed? 

That was no longer an option.

He was a monster. A Minotaur. A hulking mass of fur, horns, and muscle.

That was his reality. And though he had left the fountain behind, he wondered if the curse had truly left him. He could still feel it—the rage, the anger—lying dormant inside. Would the sight of a human trigger it? Would he once again be ripped from his body, forced to watch himself slaughter innocents, dragging corpses back for him to once again turn into mulch for the pit?

That thought was why, though the sun shone warmly overhead and no clothing was needed, Ben shivered as though the whole world had frozen over.

***

“Stay low, you big cow!” Fuku said mock-chidingly as he urged Ben to crouch down while they approached the farmhouse he had seen from above.

“This is as close as you get. Stay down and hidden. I’ll take it from here.” While speaking, he fished another leaf out of his tail and placed it on his head. As soon as he did, the Tanuki disappeared.

The leaf seemed to float in midair for a moment and then zipped away—drifting toward the house on the rise.

Ben stared. He had surmised that Fuku had used some ability back in the Labyrinth to conceal himself—he’d seen the leaf circling the fountain—but to see it now, to see how Fuku simply attached it to himself… it made his head hurt.

Swiftly, faster than Ben had ever seen Fuku move, the leaf whipped through the air toward the house. He watched it dart around the fence, past several sheep and the dog standing guard over them, and up to the farmhouse door. That was where Ben lost sight of it.

“Ugh… is this really happening?” he sighed.

He was still unpacking his escape, but the longer he remained free, the more surreal it felt—like something out of a fantastical story he’d heard as a child. He looked down at his body and shook his head.

He was no longer human. That hadn’t bothered him for a long time—it was simply who he was now. But being out here… it changed the perspective.

He was mostly human, or at least close. The torso, the arms, the legs—though bulkier and more powerful than any human could ever be—still carried a recognizable shape, just covered in short brown fur.

Then his gaze dropped lower, to the jarring shift of joints that bent into hocks. He remembered the simple hinge of a human knee, the flex of an ankle; this was something else entirely. The architecture of a beast, not a man.

His tail flicked behind him—another oddity that marked him for what he was. A monster.

But he knew it was his head that truly marked him as inhuman: a broad, bull-like skull with sharp, deadly horns and floppy ears. His snout jutted forward, nostrils flaring wide. He hadn’t looked in a mirror for centuries, but he could only assume his eyes were the same as every bull’s he had ever seen—large, dark, and empty.

No, he was a monster. That was it. And even now, technically free, he knew the rest of his life would be spent in constant hiding or fighting—until, one day, someone stronger finally came along.

‘It’s the same out here as it was in there, he thought bitterly. Only more room to move. Endless struggle, endless battle, waiting for an enemy strong enough to end me. Life never truly changes.’

‘Will it be tomorrow, or in twenty years? Does it matter? Will freedom from the Labyrinth amount to anything more than another cage—living far from everyone else, hiding, afraid of being discovered?’

His muscles sagged as the thought gnawed at him. The hard-packed soil beneath him was littered with small stones that pressed against his skin even through the fur.

He started crawling away, away from the farm. Away from Fuku. The Tanuki deserved better than to have to deal with the troubles the Minotaur would bring. 

‘He would be better off if I just left,’ he thought, and felt the sting of tears in his eyes.

He made it several feet before he froze. Fuku’s intent, more than his words, echoed through his mind. Stay here, stay low, and wait. 

Fuku hadn’t said those words exactly, but Ben felt their intent. And for some reason, the command caused Ben to stop moving.

“What is this?” he whispered.

He tried to push farther, but was stopped. He changed direction, but made it no farther away.

“What’s going on?” he said, his voice louder than he’d intended.

The dog guarding the sheep began to bark.

Ben turned again, pivoting on his knees. It hurt, but he’d long ago learned to ignore such minor pains.

“What is it, Brut? There sumthin’ out there?” he heard a male voice call out.

He ducked lower, flattening himself on the ground. His nostrils snuffled the dirt, kicking up small puffs as he exhaled.

The dog barked again, more urgently this time. Ben felt his tail flick upward. The barking increased.

“Alright Brut, let’s go check it out,” the male voice said.

From somewhere further away, a female voice called, “Erb… do ya want yer sword?”

“Naw… prob'ly just a fox er somethin.”

Ben watched as the farmer, Erb, opened the gate to the pen that held the dog and sheep. The dog scampered out, running directly towards him.

Ben panicked. The dog itself was nothing to fear—he could squash it with a single blow. 

No, what frightened him was that he didn’t want to kill a dog. He didn't want to kill anything anymore. But if he had to, he knew he would. But if he did… then he would have to kill them all.

The dog didn’t understand, and Ben had no other choice. Even if he tried to be friendly, he knew how this would end.

He sighed, the air leaving his chest as he accepted his role. He was a monster, he would always be a monster, and now he would have to act like one.

As he began to rise, a curious sight befell him. It was a dress, or what he considered to be a dress—a large piece of cloth, if nothing else, with a brightly colored floral pattern across it. And it was… flying?

The dress seemed to appear out of nowhere—appearing with a small crack as the cloth unfurled in the breeze—and was now skimming across the tops of the crops. The dog, seeing the movement, immediately gave chase.

Ben watched as best he could, staying low to the ground but following the colorful cloth as it led the dog, and the farmer, around in circles and away from him.

“Fuku? Was that you?” he whispered, though he already had a good idea it had been the Tanuki who’d rescued him. 

Ben exhaled slowly, the tension draining from his limbs. Fuku had spared him—spared him from being the monster again. And for that, he was grateful.