Chapter 8

Exiting the city proved more difficult than Fuku had planned—but not unmanageable.

He ducked into an alley to stow the new jeans in his supply bag, then slipped behind a large barrel before circling an extra block out of the way to avoid anyone who might have seen him leave the tailor’s shop.

Eventually, he made it out through the same gates they had entered earlier. He noticed the guards whispering to each other and caught brief snippets of words such as “thief” and “cow-lady.” He chuckled to himself as he strolled down the paved road.

The strolling didn’t last long. The weight of the bag and the hot, humid air soon bore down on him. Before long he was trudging, the strap cutting a deep groove into his shoulder, until finally a crumbling stone building set back from the road offered a good place to hide—and to un-disguise.

He could feel Ben’s consciousness stirring, a trickle of energy returning to his friend’s body—more so as they moved farther from the city. That faint return of strength was exactly what Fuku needed to make it the last mile to the shelter.

It was an old stone shack: a single room with one wall completely toppled and the remaining three barely standing. Still, it offered shade and blocked the view from both city and road.

Inside the crumbling walls, Fuku—still in his human disguise—crouched low, felt the thick grass beneath his hands, and finally released the skill.

With a soft poof and a flurry of tan fur, the dapper human disguise—the suit now drenched in sweat—vanished. When the Tanuki-glitter cleared, a chubby Tanuki lay sprawled atop the groaning, semi-conscious body of a massive, brown-hide Minotaur.

“Ben? Ben… are you okay?” Fuku asked, scooting forward to shake his shoulders.

Ben let out a low moan. The grass in front of his face stirred with each breath from his nostrils. “I’m alive,” he managed.

Fuku’s arms slipped around his thick neck. “I was so worried,” he whispered.

***

The next few minutes passed with Ben recovering while Fuku chattered on, proudly showing off the goods he’d acquired—ending with a flourish as he held up the stolen pants.

“So… I kind of didn’t have enough coin for these,” Fuku admitted. “Although, the more I think about it, the price they were charging was ridiculously high. What I left would have more than covered their value.”

Ben followed as best he could, though his mind was still foggy. He nodded along, letting the Tanuki ramble and responding only when necessary.

“And you say this material is called denim?” he asked once the pants were in his hands.

“Yes,” Fuku said. “And I think the blue will look really good against your brown fur.”

Ben was reluctant—and still weary—but eventually he stood and pulled the pants on.

At least, he tried to.

His sharp hooves shredded the bottoms of the legs, and his oddly angled knees and ankles finished the job, leaving the fabric in tatters. He did, however, manage to haul them up over his thighs and fasten the waist.

“Well, at least they fit?” Fuku said—the statement more question than fact. “Let me see.” With a claw, he delicately trimmed away the dangling fabric until the pants became shorts, covering Ben from low waist to mid-thigh.

“There, that looks even better!” Fuku said, tossing the scraps aside.

“Ugh…” Ben adjusted himself. “These are incredibly uncomfortable. There’s no room for my ba—”

Fuku cut him off. “You only have to wear them when we go into town. I mean… it’s not like I mind seeing your wein—”

Ben interrupted this time. “I’m sorry, Fuku, but I don’t believe I’ll be able to wear these. There needs to be more room in the crotch.”

Less than a minute later, the shorts were stuffed away in Fuku’s Ever-deep Tail along with the other supplies, and Ben was free—swinging in the wind once more.

“We can find a seamstress and get better measurements,” Fuku said as they sat down for a quick lunch before heading off. “We can use these as a guide and have them add some… well—maybe a lot—of extra room for your…”

The end of his sentence was conveniently muffled by the cookie he stuffed into his mouth.

***

As they sat and ate, letting Ben recover his strength, the mood sobered. Their talk shifted from Fuku’s solo exploits to what had happened to Them.

“So you were able to fit us both in your… adaptive sack?” Ben asked. He mostly followed Fuku’s explanation but shivered inwardly at the idea. The mere thought of his own sack expanding so large sent a twinge of phantom pain through him—even though he barely felt anything there anymore.

“Adapt-a-sack. Yep! It’s something all Tanuki can do to some extent—even females—although their sack is a little different.” Fuku’s voice dropped, and he deliberately left the details unsaid.

“Uhh… I see,” Ben said, catching the Tanuki’s discomfort. “And the pact, the Kay-a-koo—that supplied the magic and told you I was okay?”

“Yes. It was so strange. I could feel it, like a trickle of cold water on my belly.” Fuku pointed to the pale fur of his stomach. “But I knew the energy was coming from you—or at least from the pact inside you.”

“I think you’d better explain this to me,” Ben said. “I’ve heard of magical pacts before, but usually they’re more like a curse. Say or do the wrong thing and they kill you. I’ve never heard of one that gives off magic.”

Fuku dug at his ear, pulled out a bit of something, and flicked it away before continuing. “I don’t know much about them. They’re a leftover from when the Tanuki and other Yōkai roamed the mortal world. Some used them to entrap a person—stealing their precious things, even their lives. Some would enslave humans or other beings, binding them with its power. Others used it to bind themselves to a person, whether for love or fate or something else. I had never used one, and didn’t want to with you… it just kinda happened.”

He glanced away, paws folded in his lap.

Ben wasn’t mad. He wasn’t even disturbed. There had been far more dangerous and sinister things in his old world than pacts like this. Even if he had known all this beforehand, to leave the Labyrinth he would have agreed wholeheartedly.

“I see,” he said. “The pact I agreed to was to give you anything that I had, right? But I literally had nothing—so the only thing I had to give was my life.”

“Yeah,” Fuku said quietly, still not meeting Ben’s gaze.

“But since I was already cursed with immortality… how much of my life force could have truly been bound up in the pact?”

Fuku finally looked up. “I don’t know. But there was so much energy there—I don’t think I even scratched the surface with the time I used.” He trailed off, realizing he’d just admitted out loud to using Ben’s life to power the disguise.

Ben could see his new-friend was worried about the cost. But he was not. He’d already lived for seven hundred years and knew he could easily double that if no one killed him. He had wanted to die so many times while trapped in the Labyrinth. Even when Fuku arrived, he’d wanted nothing more than to lay down and meet his end. If more energy was taken from him, perhaps his cursed existence would finally end. He was okay with that.

“There’s no reason you should feel ashamed of what you did,” Ben said, his voice steady. “In fact, I think we should try that again at the next city we come to. I can’t die of old age—at least, according to the curse I can’t—so that wellspring of power should be as endless as you say. Use all you want. I’m happy to supply.”

Fuku looked up, staring directly into Ben’s large brown eyes. Ben knew the Tanuki was searching for falsehood or fear, but he would find none. He had spoken the absolute truth.

“You’re serious? You really don’t care?” Fuku asked.

Ben took a moment to see it from Fuku’s point of view, then replied, “It’s not that I don’t care—it’s that I want you to use it. You’ll never come close to reaching the end of it, and if it helps you, then it’s serving some kind of purpose. The goddess Adrasteia—or Nemesis, as she was more commonly known—was powerful, and not particularly kind. So if you are draining her power, even if it’s through me, then I say it serves her right.”

Fuku’s mouth dropped open.

“You think that was a god’s power?” he whispered. “I used a god’s power?”

“Probably,” Ben said. “You mentioned something about ‘new gods,’ so is she still around? Maybe she’s more powerful than before… or maybe her fountain is all that’s left of her.”

Ben didn’t know if this was true, but he reasoned that as long as Fuku believed it, he wouldn’t hesitate to use the power when needed. He hoped.

“So feel free to use it as much as you need,” Ben said, attempting a smile—which was difficult with a mouth made for chewing cud, not nuanced expressions.

But Fuku seemed to understand the sentiment well enough and, once again, barreled into his chest.

Ben let out an “oomph” at the impact but recoiled far less than he had the day before. This time, he reached around and hugged the Tanuki back without hesitation.

It was, he realized, actually nice to have someone to touch—and to be close to.