Chapter 14

The sun was hanging low in the sky, painting the clouds in an array of pinks and oranges. In the distance to the north, the direction they needed to go, a storm front was building. Fuku understood that the next dungeon was waiting for him—and Ben—to find and explore.

Fuku, however, was in no hurry to move. He felt as if he had melted into a warm puddle, content to stay pressed against Ben’s side and never move again.

Ben’s words echoed in his mind, and he took a moment to savor them. Not the surface meaning, but the deeper truth—the unspoken promise of companionship that went far beyond physical attraction. 

Fuku had very little experience in regards to relationships. He had tried a few times before, but those had been purely physical trysts, with no real feeling between them. But this was different—deeper. This was the opposite of those shallow trysts. 

And he really liked it.

He shifted slightly, trying to dislodge the single annoying pebble that seemed to inevitably find its way under his sack. As he resettled himself, pressing closer to Ben's side, he inhaled deeply, ready to let out a sigh of pure contentment.

Sniff. Nose wrinkle.

He pulled back just enough to look up at Ben, a slow, mischievous grin spreading across his face.

“Ben… you’re really comfortable to lay on, but you really stink. We need to take a bath.”

“Me? I thought that was you,” Ben said, waving a hand in front of his nose.

Fuku playfully punched the Minotaur in the chest.

Ben chuckled lightly. “There is a stream at the base of this hill. Should we clean up there?”

Fuku sighed dramatically. “Yeah, I guess that’s as good as any place around here. I really miss the hot springs from where I’m from… that’s the proper way to bathe.”

“Hot springs?” Ben inquired.

“Yeah, Ben—they’re amazing. Come on, let’s start walking and I’ll tell you about them,” Fuku said, his excitement returning. “You see, there’s this big mountain, and it’s a volcano…”

They chatted as they made their way down the hill. Fuku told stories of his homeland and Ben listened attentively, fascinated by the differences between their two island homes.

The stream they found was small, but it’d cut a deep gorge into the ground. This made it much too small for Ben to fit into well, and Fuku wasn’t about to jump down a cliff to bathe in a stream no bigger than one he could make himself.

“I guess let’s follow it for a ways. It’s heading generally north. Maybe it’ll intersect with a larger one,” Fuku said as they looked down to where the stream trickled below.

“A prudent plan,” Ben commented.

So they walked—or bounced, in Fuku’s case—through the long grass along the bank of the small stream. During their stroll, they encountered a number of small rodents, many birds that flew out from hidden nests, and a fox that was napping away the afternoon. 

Upon seeing them near its den, the fox screamed—then darted away.

“Sorry, ma’am!” Fuku yelled after it.

“Apologizing to a fox?” Ben asked inquisitively.

“Yeah, she yelled at us for disturbing her nap. Used some colorful words, too,” Fuku said, continuing to bounce along as if understanding foxes was normal.

“Wait… what? You’re saying you could actually understand what that fox was saying?”

Fuku slowed and pivoted to look up at Ben. “I speak Kitsune. It’s basically the fox language. So yeah, I understood what she said and could have apologized better, but she ran off too quickly.”

Ben just stared at him with a raised eyebrow.

Fuku sighed, then chattered in a series of sharp yips and soft growls. "There," he said, looking up expectantly. "I just said 'My name is Fuku and I’m travelling with this big dumb Minotaur' in perfect Kitsune."

Ben just stared harder. “That is just you making weird animal sounds.” 

“What? That is the language of the foxes!”

“I don’t believe you. You’re just making noises—weird squeaks and growls. They don’t even sound like a fox,” Ben said, obviously doubting the veracity of Fuku’s claim.

“That is perfect Kitsune, I’ll have you know! Though the ones around here do seem to have an accent,” he lifted his snout haughtily.

That got Ben chuckling. “They have an accent? You mean like you have an accent?”

That made Fuku frown. It was Ben who had the accent, not him. “You have no room to talk. You sound like some old man who only just learned to talk from goats.”

“Oh,” Ben retorted, “goats huh? better than sounding like I don’t know my R’s from my L’s.”

“What?” Fuku gasped. “That is exactly how they are supposed to be spoken! Not ‘Ellll’ and ‘Arrrr’!” 

“It’s not a ‘merun,’ it’s a ‘melon’” Ben retorted. 

Fuku stuck out his tongue and bounced on ahead.

The banter continued as they traveled. The day had been all but lost to misadventures rather than the churning of miles Fuku had planned for them, but he was okay with that. The relationship he and Ben were developing was worth much more than a day lost.

***

They never found a place to properly bathe, the stream they followed remained deep set and too small for a proper scrubbing, so finally after walking as far as they could during the daylight hours they decided it was time to rest. 

Fuku was disappointed they couldn’t clean themselves properly, but using some of the water from the flask in his tail, Fuku dampened Ben’s hide and scrubbed away the worst of the dirt and debris.

It was interesting to discover just how thick—yet short—Ben’s fur was along his limbs. It grew slightly longer and softer on his torso, while the fur around his neck was by far the longest and most supple, almost like a lion’s mane that wrapped around his shoulders and trailed down his back, leaving a small, soft patch right at the top of his chest.

Fuku hadn’t had the opportunity to explore Ben's body as much as he would have liked, so he took some secret enjoyment in the task, his tail wagging the entire time, brush in paw, enjoying the excuse to linger over Ben’s form while making him look more presentable, and more importantly—less stinky.

“Well… you don’t smell much better, but at least you’re back to one color,” Fuku said as he finished. He stored the remaining water in his tail before removing some bread, cheese, a couple of apples, and a small jar.

“What’s that?” Ben asked, seeing the jar filled with a greenish paste.

“The guy at the store called it tampon-odd, or something like that?" Fuku said. "I guess it’s a bunch of olives and other spices all smooshed up in oil. It’s supposed to be really good on bread, so I thought we’d try some.”

Fuku smeared the savory-smelling paste on a slice of bread, layered it with cheese, and added some sliced dried sausage on top before handing it to Ben. “Here you go, Ben. I hope it’s good.”

Ben sniffed the concoction but waited until Fuku had made one for himself. Fuku sniffed his as well, found the aroma appealing, and looked up at Ben. Taking that as the cue, they each tentatively took a bite.

Then, both of their faces broke into a smile.

“Oh, that is tasty,” Ben said around his mouthful.

“Salty, but on the bread, it really is good,” Fuku commented.

So they ate their evening meal alongside the small stream. There was no fire, no cover, but the dark clouds to the north hadn’t moved their way, so they felt relatively safe from the rain.

After they ate and relieved themselves—which, for some reason, was something Ben felt the need to announce every time, as if the sensation were still new and exciting to him—Fuku muttered, “Yes, Ben. I’ve figured out you don’t explode after peeing.”

They sat together once more. Fuku felt that same sense of fulfillment as he had earlier, but noticed Ben looked a little worried.

Fuku prodded him slightly. “I fear I will injure you once more if you remain close, Fuku,” Ben said after a moment. “If my dreams cause me to—”

“Stop right there, Ben.” Fuku interrupted.

“I told you, you didn't hurt me! Maybe startled me a little, but that’s nothing I can’t handle. And I’m definitely not giving up my warm spot next to you. You're like a furnace! Who needs a blanket when they have a Minotaur to keep them warm?”

Ben chuckled lightly, but Fuku could tell there was still a little hesitation, so he continued.

“Ben, please don’t worry about that. You just finished telling me that you chose me—well, good or bad, clean or smelly, you’re stuck with me.”

“I chose you first.”

Ben’s hard expression softened a little. Fuku could see the tension and anxiety that still lingered in the way the Minotaur looked at him, but he knew he’d broken through enough for Ben to allow him to stay close.

“Now lift that arm and let me under,” he said, then scooted into position. Ben’s arm wrapped securely around him, tucking him into place.

The darkness surrounded them as they lay next to the small, burbling stream, their breathing slowing until soft snores replaced the chatter of the previous day. 

The grassland began its nightly rhythm: crickets started their lulling songs, and the hunters of the night took to wing and paw. Below them, the foraging of small creatures became a desperate dance between finding food and avoiding becoming it.

But Ben and Fuku slept securely, trusting that nothing in the dark would be foolish enough to challenge someone as huge and frightening as the Minotaur.”