Chapter 16

  Ben’s body was changing. The battle with the Centaurs had left him wounded and disfigured, but it had also triggered something internal, a shift within the matrix of who he was.

  As they walked, the arrow pushed itself out of his leg and fell to the ground. Ben’s broken face shifted, as the bones in his muzzle knitted themselves back into their normal state.

  Of course, Ben felt all this, but he was too lost in his thoughts—too lost in the grim ordeal he'd just endured—to truly register what was happening until he made to whisper to Fuku and found he could once again speak.

  “You weren’t injured, were you?”

  Ben's voice brought Fuku out of his own shocked state. “Ben, you can talk again! Your face… it’s healing.”

  “Yes. Something told me that I heal faster now. It was an odd sensation. Not a voice exactly—more like a sense that told me of this new…” Ben didn’t have the word for it.

  “Skill? Power? Ability?” Fuku chimed in, excited. “Yeah, that’s how I know what I can do. That means the magic of this new age is working on you! I wasn’t sure if it would. This is great, Ben!”

  “Hmm…” Ben rumbled, his mind still turning. “Then this… ability, I guess that term fits best… this is part of the new magics of this age?”

  “Yes,” Fuku replied. “It also means you’ll be able to gain other skills and abilities as well.”

  “How does one learn such things?” Ben asked, happy to have a subject to talk about and take their minds away from the morning’s darkness.

  “For me, it comes from using my skills in ways that are true to my nature. Like when I use my Adapt-a-sack to disguise myself from others. That’s using my skill the way it was meant to be used. Or the Disappear-leaf—that’s also a way I protect myself and fool others,” he explained. “But those things aren’t going to work for you. You aren’t built for sneakiness or tricks…” He trailed off, not wanting to finish the thought.

  “I am built for fighting,” Ben finished for him. “For battle. So that is how I will gain new abilities, is that correct?”

  “Yeah… probably,” Fuku said quietly.

  “I think I knew that as well,” Ben said, his voice grim. “Even before I got this… Rapid Regen ability.”

  “But that’s great news, Ben!” Fuku said, excitement once again lining his voice. “That means that even though you’re already super strong and powerful, you’re going to grow even stronger.”

  “Yes… I can see how that would be beneficial,” Ben rumbled, yet his face didn’t show any sign of happiness.

  “Remember what I told you about the old gods? Very few could adapt, and the ones that couldn’t are now gone—or just shells of what they used to be—but now you don’t have to worry about that. You won’t join them; you’ll be a part of this new age.”

  Ben had to think about that. It did make sense, in a way. “So you were afraid I was going to fade away or something like that?”

  Fuku fidgeted in Ben’s arms, twirling Ben’s mane in his paw for a moment before speaking again. “Not exactly fade… I was afraid the curse, the old magic that came with it, would run out, leaving you with nothing. No strength, no immortality. Just a mortal body… but still trapped in that form.”

  “I see…” Ben said and paused. “And that wouldn’t have been enough for you?”

  Fuku pulled back to look at Ben’s face. The damage was all but repaired; even his burst eye had reformed, though the surrounding skin was still puffy and swollen.

  “It’s not like that. You wouldn’t have been able to sustain yourself. You’d be mortal, and long past the age a mortal could live,” Fuku started.

  “Ah…”

  “But even if you stayed alive…” Fuku continued, his voice softening, “granted, at first I was looking for someone strong to protect me, but that doesn’t matter so much now. I like you for you. You could be a geriatric bull who couldn’t even pick up a stick, be so weak and broken I’d have to push you around in a wheeled chair… and I wouldn’t care. It’s not about your strength anymore… it’s what’s inside here that I like.”

  Fuku gently touched his paw to Ben’s chest. There was a moment of quiet that passed between them as he felt Ben’s strong heart beating below his paw.

  “But since you're adapting to the new magic now, I don’t have to worry about you getting all weak and old on me,” he added with a grin. “It’s a win-win.”

  Ben gently chuckled and shook his head.

  ***

  They came upon a steep bank where one of the small streams had carved a deep cut into the earth. Ben was about to ask Fuku whether he should leap the gorge or climb down and back up when a twinkle caught his eye—the sun reflecting off water to the east, just a little upstream.

  He turned his head and found what they had been searching for: a convergence of streams feeding into a small pond, its rippling surface catching the early morning light until it nearly blinded him.

  “Still up for a bath?” he asked, glancing down at Fuku, who had already spotted the pond.

  “Oh, thank the nine tails,” was all Fuku said.

  ***

  The bath was chilly, but satisfying.

  Fuku spent what felt like hours scrubbing at Ben’s hide, working away the dirt, blood, grass, and everything else he’d collected over the last day. Ben didn’t mind because Fuku’s grin never faltered as he scrubbed away. His own broad shoulders made it impossible to reach certain spots without help, so it was nice to get so fully clean.

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  And Fuku had come prepared, producing a large brush and a bar of florally scented soap from his tail.

  When he was finished and it came time for Ben to reciprocate, Fuku shoved the brush into his hand and turned his back to him.

  With his fur plastered flat, he looked less like a fluffy Tanuki and more like a squat little bear-dog-man—pudgy, dripping, and altogether ridiculous. Ben’s lips twitched upward at the sight, but he dutifully scrubbed until Fuku’s fur foamed thick with lather.

  They didn’t speak. There was a quiet understanding in the way they tended to each other—an easy intimacy that required no words. The cold water washed away not only the grime, but the lingering tension of yesterday and the morning’s horror.

  When they finished, they climbed the bank on the far side and let the mid-morning sun dry them. The chill of the bath had left them lighter, both outside and within.

  “I think it’s time to take a shortcut,” Fuku said once they were relatively dry. “All this walking hasn't gotten us very far.”

  “Another of those flying leaves?” Ben asked, his eyes closed and head upturned to the warmth of the sun.

  “Carrier Leaves, yeah. From what the shopkeeper could remember, there’s a large mountain range to the North, beyond them is the sea. It’s in those mountains that we’ll need to search for the next dungeon,” Fuku said, using a comb to untangle his fur.

  “You keep saying ‘dungeon,’ and while I understand the word, I don’t understand how it relates. Is that a new-age term?” Ben asked.

  “Hmmm… I guess so,” Fuku replied. “All the old places—the sites where the gods held power—they didn’t fade away like the gods themselves did. But they didn’t exactly adapt in a good way, either. The new magic twisted them into dungeons. Actual magical dungeons, where monsters roam and adventurers can enter and explore.”

  “Monsters?” Ben asked.

  “Yep. Magical ones. They aren’t born like animals—they just spawn—poof—and they’re there. They call these spawned monsters magical constructs. They can leave things too—weird things, like items and treasure when they die.”

  “Really?” Ben asked, skeptical.

  “I promise, Ben. I mean… I haven’t killed any myself, but I’ve seen some of the things they leave behind,” Fuku said.

  This was new to Ben, and it took him a moment to process. He looked at Fuku. “You’re telling me that the old temples, the places where the gods were worshipped, and places like the Labyrinth—where they played their tricks on humanity—they have all turned into dens for magical monsters?”

  “Yes!” Fuku said. “Though most have been destroyed by greedy people who farmed them so much that the magic disappeared. The ones that survive are mostly regulated now. Big cities form around them and charge adventurers to go in. But the adventurers can still make money, because the monsters leave things they can use or sell, but also because there’s always a big boss monster that guards a large treasure chest at the end.”

  Ben blinked, his mind struggling to process this new version of his old world. “I remember you saying something about me being the boss before…”

  “Yes, you were. Or maybe still are—not sure how that’s going—the boss monster of the ‘Knossos’s Labyrinth’ dungeon. You didn’t know that?”

  “No, I did not. And a treasure chest? There was nothing like that in the dome,” Ben spluttered.

  “Sure there was. I didn’t take anything out of it because I was more interested in you,” Fuku said with a wink.

  “Fuku… I was there for seven hundred years. I think I would have noticed a treasure chest,” Ben said, turning his head to look down at the half-dry Tanuki.

  “You really didn’t see it, Ben? It was along the wall behind the fountain—full of coins—and I swear I saw a staff on top. I almost grabbed it, but when you stopped me from drinking the water, I started thinking you were… different. I really was more interested in you than treasure. Which is unusual, because I really like shiny things.”

  Ben stared at Fuku. Fuku stared back.

  “You are telling the truth,” Ben said.

  “So are you,” Fuku replied. “Wow… then something strange was going on.”

  They paused for a moment—Fuku puzzling through possibilities, Ben coming to grips with there being more to his existence than he thought.

  ‘A boss monster? My prison, my torment, my endless cycle of slaughter… had it all been a game for others? I guarded a prize I could not even see…’ The thought brought no anger, no sadness—only a hollow numbness.

  “So… nothing changed for you? You didn’t feel anything different happen, like a couple hundred years ago?” Fuku finally asked.

  Ben’s gaze shifted from the middle distance back to Fuku. “No. I remember no shift, no change. Just more of the same. Time there was meaningless. The people changed—their attire, their armor—but nothing changed for me.”

  “I’m sorry I made you remember that, Ben,” Fuku said, averting his eyes.

  “It’s fine, Fuku. One mercy was the fountain. Its waters dulled the pain. Memories would sink into them and vanish, like the blood I washed away. Perhaps that was part of the curse—maybe its only true blessing. Now those centuries feel clouded, like a long-past dream. Yet vivid still, in the way of a recent nightmare.”

  A silence permeated the area; even the insects seemed to quiet their constant buzzing for a somber moment.

  Ben shook his head, as if trying to shake the memories loose. Then he spoke again. “That is just a part of my long lived life. Denying it changes nothing. Better to face such things. It’s just more comfortable to bury them. To ignore the fact that they ever happened.”

  ***

  Fuku brought his tail up in front of him and gently ran the comb through the longer hair. He didn’t see it though, nor did his gaze take in anything in particular. It was his time to stare off into the middle distance as memories of his own past flashed behind his eyes.

  “I can understand that,” he said. “I do that with my pup-years as well. I really do want to get home. I miss Kakuriyo. But I wasn’t the most comfortable while I was there either. My family stayed in a huge palace atop a forested mountain. Its peak was so high that it stuck up above the clouds. It was nice there—” His voice took on a dreamy quality.

  Then dropped with the reality of his life there. “—but I never felt like I belonged.”

  He hesitated, weighing how much more to share. His childhood burdens felt small beside Ben’s torment, but they were still heavy to him.

  Ben’s hand fell to Fuku’s head. It was reassuring and comfortable. He knew Ben would be with him now no matter what, so the need to tell his story could wait. They had time.

  “I avoid thinking about my past too. Not that I’m comparing my life to yours, but because my past makes me feel things—both sad and happy at the same time. It’s confusing… so it’s easier to keep those parts hidden. If I thought about them all the time, I wouldn’t be able to accomplish anything.”

  Ben nodded. “Yes. It is a difficult balance. Some things are best left in the past, where they belong, but to deny them is to deny a part of yourself.”

  They stood there for a moment. The sentiment of Ben’s words stalled any further conversation. The mood had grown somber and stoic.

  Fuku didn’t mind being vulnerable and sharing, but didn’t feel like this was the right place for that. He imagined a huge overstuffed bed with lots of pillows and snacks on silver trays, where he and Ben could just lay together and talk.

  It was a nice daydream, even though Fuku knew it wouldn’t happen, but thought, ‘It definitely isn’t going to happen if we just stand here.’

  So, with a flourish—to break the heavy silence—Fuku pulled a leaf from his tail. It was one of the large ones he had grabbed while Ben held him up. He tossed it to the ground ahead of them where it swelled and unfolded as it floated down, until it was broad as a boat.

  “Enough of the past stuff. Let’s move forward. Shall we?” he asked, clutching Ben’s finger with one paw while his other made a grand, sweeping gesture toward the leaf.

  Ben grunted a nod, grateful for the end to the heavy moment, and stepped onto the large leaf.

  The large Minotaur sat down, folding his legs as best he could and dug his fingers into the tough surface of the now boat-shaped leaf.

  Fuku climbed onto his lap and held on to the fur of his thighs. “Ready?” Fuku asked.

  “Ready,” came Ben’s deep voice.

  “Okay then,” Fuku said. Then, rather than whispering the word to cause the leaf to rise, he took a deep breath and screamed it to the wind.

  “Jōshō!”