Chapter 13

Fuku pulled some jerky and cheese from his tail, offering some to Ben, who just stared at it.

“Is something wrong with the food, Ben?” Fuku asked.

“No, Fuku,” Ben replied. “I have seen many things go into and out of your tail—but out of courtesy haven't asked how that's accomplished. But since we are truly bound to one another now, I feel it is important that I gain knowledge of how this magic of yours works.”

“Sure, Ben—let’s eat and talk.”

Ben accepted the rations and tore off a chunk of dried meat with his blunt incisors.

“I know there are lots of things you don’t know about this new age. Maybe I can fill in some of the gaps,” Fuku said, biting into a piece of hard, yellowed cheese. 

“So… my tail…” he spoke around the cheese. “It’s a skill—a magic, you might say.” He swallowed before explaining further. “It’s called Ever-deep Tail. It’s basically like a bag of holding, but part of my body.”

Ben frowned, blinking.

“Hmm. You wouldn’t know that kind of magic either, would you?” Fuku scratched his snout, deciding where to start.

“Okay… you already know the part about the ley lines, how they aligned, thus beginning the Time of Confluence. But there were old magics back then, they were what the old gods used. Let’s take your mythology: there were some demi-gods, some magical creatures, and a few items like a lightning bolt, a trident, a golden fleece, stuff like that, right?”

Ben cocked his head but nodded. “There’s a lot more… but yes.”

“Well… those things were all either a direct manifestation of a god’s power or, in the case of the fleece, a bit of their magic that leaked out.”

“Go on,” Ben prompted.

“When the ley lines aligned, the old gods’ magic got harder to use. Unless they adapted to the new magic, they lost their power and disappeared.”

“They just… vanished?” Ben asked. 

“Kind of. Most were too set in their ways to adapt. Humans—and the new species—went the other direction. They flourished in the new magic.”

“Wait… the old gods I know—Zeus, Hera, Poseidon—are gone?” Ben said. “And there are new species?”

“Yep,” Fuku said. “Those guys are just memories now.”

Ben shook his head in disbelief. All the stories, the tales he’d grown up with. All gone.

Either Fuku missed the look or chose to ignore it. “As far as the new species: I mentioned the beast-kin before, but there are a few more now, too. We can circle back to that later—let me finish the magic bit first, okay, Ben?”

Ben nodded, encouraging the Tanuki to continue. Happy to have some things explained to him.

“So… not all the gods are gone. In fact… Hephaestus, that was his name, right? He was one of the first to change and see the usefulness in this new magic. He used it to help the humans who still worshipped him, granting them all sorts of technological things. He’s one of the major new gods now, the God of Technology. Though most just call him Cog, or the Gear-God.”

Ben was so absorbed he didn’t notice his hand lifting another bite of meat to his mouth.

“But this new magic… does it give everyone powers?” he asked around his mouthful.

“Not everyone,” he continued, “That’s kind of why humans aren’t always so social with the other species. While humans can learn magic spells, they aren’t inherently magical the way most new species are.”

Ben’s ears twitched; his brows rose.

“Okay, so—” Fuku started again, “the beast-kin. They were all human once, but their affinity for nature—and a particular animal—altered them, gave them traits of that creature.”

“Like dogs and cats?” Ben asked.

“Yes, some, but there are all types. And of course since they were seen as different by the humans they found it more comfortable to live separate from them.”

“Humans can be… prejudiced,” Ben grunted.

 “Yep. But since the beast-kin were separated from the humans—but still needed the support of a group—they formed their own communities. And I’m sure you can figure out what happened next… they began to mate with each other.”

“Why does that matter?” Ben asked.

“I’m getting there,” Fuku said, exasperated, “So—as the generations grew, they found that their offspring weren’t always the same. But normally a tiger will have another tiger, a bird another bird—”

“There are tiger and bird beast‑kin?” Ben blurted. “Can the bird‑people fly?”

Fuku rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Yes, well… mostly. Do you know what a penguin is? How about an emu?”

Ben shook his head.

“No? We need to show you more of the world…” Fuku sighed. “Avians—that’s what they prefer—generally have wings instead of arms and use those for flight. Pretty sure there’s some magic in it, but you’d have to ask.”

“Wow…” Ben breathed, absentmindedly popping the last bit of meat into his mouth.

“Right—getting back to the mating, sometimes rather than having a child with the same animal traits, their child will be a different animal—like a rabbit born to wolves.”

“I met a family with that combination once. Nice people.”

Fuku smiled at the memory, “But sometimes, and this is even rarer—a human child is born to a beast-kin.”

“What? How can that happen?” Ben asked, accidentally spraying bits of meat on Fuku. “Oops, Sorry.”

“Hmmm…” Fuku growled, wiping the spattered meat from his fur. “Now we both need a bath—but that’ll have to be later, I suppose. Anyway—when that happens and the child is tested, they’re always devoid of inherent magic. Which kind of proves humans aren’t innately tied to the world’s magic.”

He took another bite. “But they make up for it with machines. That’s the smoke around the cities—manu-factories, metalwork—things that behave like magic without needing magic.”

Ben nodded. He’d seen the road vehicles, smelled the smoke, heard metal banging and engines whirring in Phylios. It wasn’t much, but it gave his understanding something to land on.

“So—you’re obviously magical… but Tanuki are from the Quiet Age, right?” Ben asked.

Fuku inhaled deeply before responding, “Well, kind of. Tanuki are a part of the larger group of beings called Yōkai. We live in a realm that’s attached to this one, but separate as well. There used to be paths in between, but those are all closed now.”

***

Ben had heard about this subject a little before from Fuku, but could tell this was a subject his friend wasn’t ready to explain, so he directed the conversation back to the main topic. “But you have magics now. Your tail, which I assume lets you put all sorts of things inside and store them?”

Fuku nodded, glad to get back on topic. “Yes. It can hold many things as long as they aren’t too big, but it does have a limit. I can’t put everything in there—but it’s very useful, as I am sure you’ve seen.”

“Could I put something in there?” Ben asked.

Fuku blinked bewilderedly. “I… I doubt it. I mean—I’ve never tried. Never had anyone who I would trust enough to…” he trailed off, then his expression firmed. “I think you should try.”

This was not what Ben had been expecting, but he had seen the way Fuku’s face had gone from questioning, to a flash of sadness, then to the firm, adamant look he gave Ben. He knew this was Fuku’s way of showing just how much trust he was placing in him.

“Okay, so how do I do it?” he asked.

“Uhh…” Fuku thought, his eyebrows narrowing. “I guess just put your hand in and think of grabbing something? How about you think about pulling out the jug of sake I have in there? You remember that, right?”

Ben nodded and gently placed his hand within the long fur of Fuku’s tail. He held the image of the jug in his head, concentrating on the feel of the cool clay. He could practically feel it in his grasp as he reached…

And then he touched Fuku’s actual tail.

“Ahhh!” Fuku squealed and leapt from Ben’s leg and to the ground. “That… that’s my tail,” he said as he turned to face Ben, his tail now wrapping protectively down between his legs and back up where he gripped it to his stomach.

“I… I’m sorry,” Ben muttered. 

Fuku panted for a minute, then calmed himself. “No, it’s fine. It’s just… that is a very sensitive area for me, and I honestly haven’t had anyone touch anywhere near there in a very, very long time. It was just—startling.”

Ben couldn’t help but chuckle. “Well, Fuku… you said that you wanted to get closer, right?” he said, waggling his fingers towards the Tanuki suggestively.

The look on Fuku’s face was priceless. A mix of outrage, interest, startlement, and utter amazement.

“I—but—no! I mean—well—gah!” he spluttered, not sure what to say or how to act.

Ben had never seen his friend so flustered, so he decided to ease him back from the cliff he was tumbling from.

“I’m just teasing you, Fuku,” Ben said, his tone softening. “I apologize for touching you inappropriately. But now we know only you can use that power. What else do you have? What are the leaves?”

***

Fuku’s mind went blank. 

Ben was still talking, asking about leaves, but Fuku’s mind was elsewhere. The lingering tingle from where Ben’s hand had brushed his actual tail sent a jolt straight to a specific part of his anatomy, overriding all sensible thought. He was glad his tail was wrapping upward between his legs and keeping it protectively hidden, or Ben might have noticed just how stimulating the touch really had been.

“What are the leaves?” Ben’s voice cut through the haze, and Fuku had to force himself to focus.

‘Leaves,’ he thought, scrambling to catch up. ‘He asked about the leaves.’ “Uh… yeah, leaves,” he finally managed to say. “There’s the Disappear-leaf and the Carrier Leaves.”

He saw the genuine interest in Ben’s eyes, mixed with a hint of the teasing he’d received. But he decided a bit of normalcy would help, so Fuku tried to settle himself, sitting firmly on his sack and bouncing slightly while he adjusted.

“The Disappear-leaf, as you’ve seen, makes me turn invisible,” Fuku explained. “I usually use that in tandem with Reduction and Gust. That way I can shrink and have the wind blow me around, just like any other leaf.”

“You can shrink yourself? I remember you growing larger when I…” Ben trailed off, not particularly interested in reliving that moment.

“Well, yes, Ben. I was big when we first met, remember? That’s also how we merged… it's my Adapt-a-sack.” 

He knew Ben had a fairly good idea about this part of his anatomy already, but he decided to explain fully. Ben’s curious expression encouraged him to continue. “You see,” Fuku said, pointing to the sack he was sitting on, “it’s expandable.”

“Let me show you.”

Fuku activated his skill and felt the familiar stretch as his sack swelled outward, engulfing him. It was a sensation he’d done a thousand times before—yet now, with Ben watching, it felt strangely intimate, as if he were revealing something private. Normally it took only seconds to shift into whatever disguise he chose… but this time he let that time linger, both for Ben’s benefit, and because of the strangely intimate sensation it gave him.

But after a few seconds, he chose his favorite human form, both because it was one he could easily slip into—and to show Ben what they had looked like while in the city.

“That’s amazing,” Ben said once Fuku had morphed into a dapper young human wearing a top hat and holding a cane.

“This, sir—is how I am able to interact with humans and remain incognito,” Fuku said, his voice changing to the more aloof and formal tone of the human he was now dressed as. “This disguise is one I have perfected and, even with my own energy supply, can maintain for over half an hour.”

“Even the voice changes,” Ben said, amazed.

“Yes, it is almost flawless.”

“Almost?”

Fuku dipped his head, brandishing his hat in a formal bow. As he did, his furry, round Tanuki ears stuck out from the tan-colored hair.

Ben chuckled. “Those are cute ears, and now I understand why you wear the hat.”

“Indeed,” Fuku replied, donning the hat once more and standing straight again.

“Can you do any other disguises? Can you be a girl?” 

The words were out of Ben’s mouth before he could stop them. “I mean—no. Not that I—I mean, I didn’t—”

Having Ben blurt it out like that? It was… surprising. 

Fuku smiled softly, though his smile didn’t reach his eyes. He understood. He knew it was a slip of the tongue. He saw the look of embarrassment and shame on Ben’s face.

But he’d considered this as well. He’d assumed Ben's preference would be for a human woman. He could do that for Ben, but it wouldn’t be him.

But the embarrassment painted across Ben’s face showed he clearly hadn’t meant to offend in any way.

“I could,” Fuku said softly. “It would take some time and research, but if that’s the image which would make you…”

“No,” Ben said, his frustration vanishing. “Don’t. I’m sorry that I even asked.”

There was another of their now-famous awkward pauses, where neither knew what to say. Fuku canceled the Adapt-a-sack disguise and sat on the ground in front of Ben, keeping some room between them.

“It’s not like I haven’t thought about that too,” he said. “And if that’s what you want, I can try.”

“No, Fuku. It’s not what I want.” Ben paused, his hand rubbed at his temples.

“I explained before that those parts of me don’t work anymore—they're broken. But even if they did—”

Ben looked at Fuku, his face softening, “I’m not human anymore, I can’t think like one. I am me, but I don’t know who that is yet. It’s something I need time to figure out.”

“So… maybe this you likes something else?” Fuku asked, his voice squeaking at the end.

“Maybe,” Ben answered honestly. “I don’t know, Fuku. But there is no point to living in the past, so I shouldn’t have asked—should have said… it was stupid of me.”

Fuku looked into Ben’s eyes and saw a mixture of emotions painted there. Sorrow, loneliness, hope. He could see that this was a subject that Ben was still working through, and wasn’t ready to decide on. And honestly, Fuku was glad there was still a decision to be made.

He nodded, bounced forward, and laid a paw on Ben’s arm. “I was always told to look forward. Remember the past because it shapes who you are. But what you do today decides who you’ll be tomorrow.” 

He sniffed, remembering his grandma. She was the one who had told him that, back before he’d run away. She hadn’t cared that he liked other boys—she loved him for who he was. His memories of her were some of the few he cherished from his youth. 

The sun was tipping towards the west, the shadows beginning to lengthen over the sea of grass surrounding them. Birds could be heard chirping, and the breeze helped cool the sweat that now once again covered Ben’s hide.

Ben turned to Fuku and touched his head, then ran his large hand down his back. It wasn’t as good as a belly rub, but Fuku enjoyed it nonetheless.

“Fuku,” Ben said, his voice a low rumble. “My body won’t let me be the partner you deserve, but I need you in my life—to be myself. As long as you’re willing, we’ll be together in some form, no matter what. I made my choice already, Fuku—and I chose you.”