The Strange Story of the Boy and the Fox
by volta arovet
a misleading Natsume Yuujinchou story
Rating: PG
Warnings: Tanuma's life is rather hard, but at least the fox gets fed a lot
Word count: 5900
Natsume wasn't home--he wouldn't be home until the end of the week, when his class returned from their trip--but Tanuma found himself standing outside Natsume's house with no idea why he'd walked there or what he was supposed to do now that he was there.
It was the fault of those creepy footsteps, Tanuma decided. They had been following him around all day. He'd wanted to talk to someone about them, but Natsume was away, Dad would get protective, and everyone else would think he was crazy, so.
So he was standing outside Natsume's house.
Alone.
Like an idiot.
Tanuma sighed, and as he ducked his head, he thought he saw a flash of pink out of the corner of his eye. He inched his way to the bushes and saw not smooth pink fabric, but sleek, orange fur peeking out between the leaves.
Okay, maybe he was wrong about the "alone" part (but he wasn't ready to concede the "idiot" bit just yet).
"Hello?" Tanuma tried, bending down to the animal's level. He wondered if he should offer his hand or if that'd be seen as a sign of aggression. Animals always acted kind of weird around him, anyway, so it was probably better not to risk it.
The animal--a fox-- poked its head out, nose sniffing hard. Its ears perked up, and it bounded out of the bushes, circling Tanuma once before sitting neatly in front of him, bushy tail curled around its front paws. A familiar pouch hung on a rope around its neck, resting on its ruff.
"Ah!" Tanuma said, pointing to the pouch. "You're that kid--I mean, that fox." He frowned at himself, thought for a moment. "One of those. From the festival?"
The fox nodded, and Tanuma smiled softly. He reached out a hand, and the fox let him run his hand through its fur.
"I bought you a mask," Tanuma marveled. "And Natsume showed you the trick to the fish catching game, and you--that was really you? You've grown!" The fox barked; Tanuma shook his head. "I'm sorry. I can't understand you."
The fox looked at the house, then back at Tanuma.
"You're here to visit Natsume?"
The fox barked again.
"He'll be back on Friday, so you'll have to wait two more days," Tanuma said. The fox cocked its head. Tanuma rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "No, I'm not really sure why I came here. But, I'm glad I got to see you?"
The fox's tail thumped happily.
Tanuma straightened up, long legs protesting the way he'd crouched for so long. "Would you like to wait at my home? Dad always makes too much for dinner, and..." The fox cast a longing look at Natsume's house. "I understand. I'll stop by tomorrow, okay?"
The fox nodded.
"Okay. Um. See ya." A thought occurred to Tanuma. "Just wondering. Is something following me? I mean, do you see anything?" The fox looked puzzled. "Never mind." Tanuma blushed. "Bye."
Tanuma turned and walked away. When he glanced back over his shoulder, the fox had already hidden in the bush again.
***
The next day was better--a crisp autumn day, sunny and cool, and best of all, he hadn't heard the strange footsteps since that morning. Tanuma's dad had been surprisingly pleased when he'd asked for a second lunch, and he suspected it wasn't just because Tanuma had promised to rake the shrine's leaves in return.
The fox was still waiting there, sunning itself on a nearby patch of grass. Its ears swiveled towards Tanuma when he approached, and it was already up and nosing at Tanuma's satchel by the time he'd placed it on the ground.
"Hi there. Is this what you smelled?" Tanuma asked, taking out the spare lunchbox. It was only some fish on a bed of rice, but the fox's eyes shone with anticipation.
Tanuma hesitated a moment, then placed a pair of chopsticks next to the box. He supposed there was no reason not to, especially since the fox had used chopsticks when he'd been a boy. And he still was a boy, sort of, even though Tanuma couldn't see it.
"Go ahead," Tanuma said, and that was all the permission the fox needed. He laughed at the fox's enthusiasm. "I'll be sure to tell Dad you like his cooking."
The chopsticks were missing, Tanuma realized with a start. He squinted at the fox and wondered what was really happening--if Natsume, for example, would see a young boy eating with chopsticks instead of a young fox gobbling its food--but as much as he squinted, that boy remained just a part of his imagination. The table manners probably weren't much better, he reflected with a smile. At least that much would remain the same.
The fox sat back, lazily licking a stray grain of rice from its muzzle, and the chopsticks fuzzed back into view.
"Sorry, that's all the food I've got. There's one more thing, though." He rustled in his bag again. He hoped he wasn't overstepping his boundaries, but he'd noticed something in one of his still-unpacked boxes, and he remembered the little boy's sweet voice as he'd chattered about the pretty hat he had found, and...
"Ah, Kaname!" a kind, older voice said. Tanuma jumped and saw Natsume's aunt peering out the window. "How nice of you to stop by!"
"Hello, Ms. Touko," Tanuma said, quickly clamping shut his satchel. "I was just walking home, and I--"
"Oh, you don't need an excuse to say hello," she tutted, and Tanuma was as embarrassed as he was relieved. "Stay right there. I have something for you. Oh! And you have to introduce me to your friend!" She disappeared from the window.
"Friend?" Tanuma asked. The fox put a paw on his knee. "Right. I guess we are." He gently patted the paw and imagined holding the little boy's hand.
"So, what's your name? I can't just call you 'fox,' right?" The fox nudged at the bag hanging around its neck; Tanuma stopped it. "No, you should save that for when Natsume comes back. You can tell me then. Until then, let's just use a temporary name. Um, Kit?" Too cute. "Foxy?" Too stupid. "Renard?" he tried--close, but a little too fancy. "Rena? How about Rena?"
The fox jumped into his lap and chuffed its head against Tanuma's chin. This, at least, Tanuma understood, and he hugged back. "Okay, Rena it is."
"How cute!" Touko cried, and the fox scrambled out of Tanuma's arms to sit at his feet, once again self-possessed and calm.
"This is Rena," Tanuma said, motioning to the fox. "Rena, this is Ms. Touko, Natsume's aunt." The fox looked at Touko, its tail flicking slightly.
"It's nice to meet you," Touko said, bowing a little. The fox nodded its head, indicating a 'likewise,' and Touko clapped her hands in delight. "Wonderful! Do you want a cookie?" Touko asked, fishing one out of her apron's pocket. The fox took it neatly and ate it without getting a crumb on its whiskers. Apparently, it could have good table manners when it wanted.
"The rest are for you," Touko said to Tanuma, handing him a paper-wrapped package. "I always make too many when Natsume is away."
"Thank you," Tanuma said, stuffing it carefully into his satchel, "but won't Natsume want some when he gets back tomorrow?"
"This can be our little secret." She winked at him, and, for a moment, Tanuma realized why Natsume loved her so much.
"Got it," Tanuma said, and winked back, heart aching with the way she laughed. He heard footsteps behind him, and he turned to greet Natsume's uncle.
No one was there.
Tanuma quickly stood up. The fox was already hiding in the bushes--ineffectively, since its tail was thrashing hard enough to shake the leaves. "Sorry. Just remembered that I promised Dad to help at the shrine today. Thanks again!"
He left at the fastest pace he could move that wasn't a panicked run. The footsteps followed, rapping out their steady, unhurried beat. For once, that was a relief--namely because Natsume would, in fact, kill him if he brought dangerous spirits to Touko's home.
***
Tanuma's shoulders were heavy with the ache of the mountains of leaves he had raked the day before and the constant pressure of eyes staring at his back. The footsteps had been louder that day, each sharp click echoing in the back of his teeth. He'd tried to move as little as possible that day, foregoing even a trip to the bathroom and a visit to a teacher just so he wouldn't have to hear those footsteps.
There were, of course, some people who would say the anticipation was the maddening part, and that not hearing the footsteps would be worse than hearing them. These people hadn't spent the past four days listening to that sound, or a lifetime of half-viewed monsters and jumping at shadows. He found himself wishing the creature would either show itself or go away.
There was a small part of him that hoped it would be the former so he could give it a piece of his mind--and, perhaps, an imitation of Natsume's right hook--but he'd be satisfied if whatever it was would just stop following him.
Speaking of which.
The count of things following him had increased that day. He had noticed a little black nose pressed against his classroom window. The bushes next to the gym's water fountain had had two pointy ears sticking out of them. The gate of the school had apparently grown a bushy red tail. And now, the tall grass on the side of the path was rustling in a way entirely unlike the breeze.
Tanuma yawned and stretched his arms over his head. "Ah, I'm so tired!" he said, a little too loudly. "I'm going to skip going to Natsume's house today. I'm just going to spend all afternoon resting at my home. It's pretty well-protected, so I should be able to relax without worrying about any spirits trying to eat me." He cracked his neck, stealing a glance at the rustling grass. "Yeah. That sounds like a good idea," he concluded a bit lamely.
The grass shook a bit, and Tanuma caught a glimpse of a tail before the fox disappeared from sight. It was probably going to go wait for Natsume now that it knew Tanuma would be safe, he figured. It knew where Tanuma would be, at least, if it wanted to visit.
For some reason, that thought made Tanuma feel a little more lonely.
But, perhaps, not as lonely as he'd like. "You can also go do your own thing, if you like," he said, smiling through grit teeth. "Or say hello, or, something."
The footsteps never faltered, never hurried, always keeping that same, steady beat until Tanuma crossed the shrine's gate, and then, at last, it was quiet.
***
Ten minutes later, Tanuma was lying facedown on his futon, blissfully reveling in the rare feeling of doing absolutely nothing.
Two minutes after that, his father poked his head in, accompanied by the mouth-watering scent of roasted sweet potatoes.
One minute after that, Tanuma was on his way out the door again, a basket hooked over his arm. He munched on a sweet potato, its smoky flavoring tempering the vague dread he felt at leaving the temple. The rest of the sweet potatoes were safe and warm, tucked under a handkerchief, all of it a present to thank Touko for the cookies.
Of course, Touko would probably give him something else in return as thanks for the sweet potatoes, and his father would repay the favor, and so on, and so on, until Tanuma finally dropped dead from exhaustion, filled with tasty, tasty food.
It was a better end than some Tanuma could think of. He paused at the gate and, casting a surreptitious glance to make sure his father wasn't watching, pressed two fingers to his lips and mumbled one of his father's prayers.
Something in the bushes gave a low, guttural whine.
"Rena?" Tanuma asked, his eyebrows nearly meeting his hairline.
The fox slunk out of the bushes, ears low and tail drooping. Tanuma immediately knelt at its level.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know you were there." He broke off half of his sweet potato and offered it to the fox. "Here. You want some?"
Tanuma wondered if he would see the fox eat it or if it would disappear like the chopsticks. Instead, the fox delicately ate it directly from Tanuma's hand, then licked Tanuma's fingertips.
"I take it I'm forgiven?" Tanuma asked. The fox licked his fingers one last time, smiling with its eyes. Tanuma couldn't figure out how to translate that into a fox boy's actions, and he decided it was best not to dwell on it. He straightened up again.
"I'm headed to Natsume's house. Would you like to walk with me?"
The fox perked up and moved to Tanuma's side. Together, they walked down the road.
"So, my prayer actually does something?" Tanuma asked. The fox's head nodded in time with its pace. Tanuma grinned, his thin shoulders hunching in on themselves. "Good."
The fox bumped its flank into Tanuma's knee.
"Sorry! I didn't mean that it's good that I accidentally hurt you, it's just. It's nice to know I can do. Something," Tanuma haltingly clarified. "Even if it's weak, it's. Still something."
The fox looked at him sympathetically enough to make Tanuma decidedly uncomfortable, so he added, "But you'd still better stay away from the shrine during Setsubun. I bet I'd be pretty dangerous with a handful of beans."
The fox took the opportunity to weave its way in front of Tanuma's legs, tripping him up. "Hey!" Tanuma laughed. "Okay, I promise, no beans." The fox flicked its tail cheekily. Tanuma's laughter died off as he heard the steady click of footsteps behind him.
"Can I ask you something?" Tanuma said. The fox appeared receptive. "I know you're waiting for Natsume, so why were you outside the shrine?" The fox just looked at him. "Is it because of the spirit who's following me?"
The fox cast a look at the seemingly empty path behind them, then looked back at Tanuma.
"Is he dangerous?" Tanuma asked. The fox's head bobbed back and forth, its meaning unreadable. "Lonely?" Tanuma tried. "Hungry? Curious?"
The fox's footsteps broke pattern a little, its shoulders working harder and its ears flicking a bit. It was clearly saying something--Tanuma could map its body language onto a boy speaking animatedly about something--but...
"I'm sorry," Tanuma said, shaking his head. "All I'm getting is 'it's complicated.' I still can't understand you." He shoved his free hand into his pocket and threw his head back, sighing at the sky.
"It must be frustrating for you," Tanuma said. "I can say everything I want, and I know you'll understand, but you have to work so had just to get a simple message across." He kept his eyes trained on the sky, squinting against the afternoon sunlight. "No wonder so many spirits don't like humans," he said, to himself more than the fox.
The fox nosed his knee, pressed its flank against his calf.
"I didn't mean you," Tanuma quickly clarified. He bent on one knee, and the fox pressed closer, placing its front paws on his thigh. Tanuma wrapped his free arm around the fox and squeezed. "This, at least, I understand."
The fox stretched, resting its head on Tanuma's shoulder, and Tanuma was surprised to realize that he wasn't scared to have all those little sharp teeth so close to his neck.
"Okay, okay," Tanuma laughed. "I like you, too. Now, let's get this basket delivered before the food gets cold." The fox licked his cheek, the backed away, swishing its tail merrily.
Tanuma imagined a little boy giving him a peck and tried to reconcile it with the wet trail on his cheek. He blushed, shook his head, and stood up.
"So, what's Touko going to make for dinner tonight?" Tanuma asked. "Curry? Croquettes?" The fox yipped. "She makes the best croquettes. Make sure Natsume saves you some, okay?" They continued down the path, keeping up their largely one-sided conversation as best they could.
***
Touko was outside her house, on her knees, hands buried deep in the roots of a bush. She brushed the back of her wrist against her forehead, smearing a dark line on her brow as she squinted at the sun, Tanuma, and the fox as they approached.
"Hello, Ms. Touko. Dad thought you might like some sweet potatoes," Tanuma said, gesturing with the basket.
Touko's eyes brightened. "Thank you, Kaname," she said, then grinned at the fox. "Thank you as well, Rena."
She looked helplessly at her muddy hands. "Ah, would you mind putting it on the kitchen table for me? You can help yourself to the cookies on the counter, if you like."
Tanuma gave her a wry look. "Am I stealing Natsume's cookies again?"
Touko laughed and waved him on. "There's always more, there's always more."
Somewhere on the journey, Tanuma had stopped paying attention to the footsteps following him. Maybe he had gotten used to them after so much time, or maybe having someone to talk to made it easier to ignore them--or maybe those things just seemed a little less important when he had a friend nearby.
He should have paid attention when the footsteps broke their steady pace and hurried past him, entering the door Tanuma had opened.
The fox leapt forward, tangling itself around Tanuma's feet; they fell, together, through the doorway.
"Be careful!" Tanuma scolded, gathering up the basket. Only one potato had escaped, so he brushed it off and slipped it into his pocket. He couldn't give it to Touko, but Tanuma wasn't so fussy. He toed off his shoes and walked down the hall to the kitchen, setting the basket on the table.
There was a pretty line of glass jars on the shelf--flour, sugar, rice, pink and brown beans, and most importantly, the cookies. "Want one?" Tanuma offered the fox. It looked nervous and whined, deep in its throat.
Tanuma sniffed the cookie--it looked fine to him. "Are they okay to eat?" he asked the fox. It whined again, but its focus was on the window, not the cookie. Tanuma glanced out. It was strange, but he couldn't see Touko from this angle.
"Let's go," Tanuma said, stuffing the cookie in his pocket. He felt a prickling on the back of his neck, a slight pressure at his temples, like a storm was coming, just a few hours away.
He walked through the kitchen door and entered the living room--which was strange, because Tanuma could have sworn that door led to the hallway. "Sorry," Tanuma said to the fox. "I've only been here a couple times. Must have got mixed up." He went back through the door and was in the dining room.
Tanuma frowned. As far as he could remember, the dining room wasn't even connected to the living room. "This is strange, right?" he asked the fox. It whined softly. "Let's get out of here."
They crossed the room and went through the opposite door, the one that led outside.
They were back in the kitchen.
From the kitchen, they exited to the living room, and from the living room they entered the dining room. The dining room led back to the living room, which led to the living room, which led to the living room again, and again.
Tanuma stumbled and knocked into an end table, just barely catching the lamp before it tumbled to the ground. "Sorry," Tanuma apologized to the lamp. "A little dizzy." He rapped the side of his head twice, squinting until his blurry vision cleared.
With careful deliberation, he reached out and laid the lamp on its side. "Just testing something," he told the fox. It paused to examine the lamp, then scampered after Tanuma into the next room--the kitchen. It took three more doorways until they returned to the living room.
The lamp was upright.
"Okay," Tanuma said, sinking into a chair. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his laced fingers. "It looks like the rooms reset themselves when we leave, or it's making new rooms for us. I think we're limited to rooms I've been in before, since I'm pretty sure there are bedrooms nearby, but I've never been in any of them. There doesn't seem to be any order to how the rooms are connected, so..." He sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose. "So, I still have no idea what any of that means. Do you?"
The fox said nothing.
"And...I'm tired, and that's probably not good," Tanuma added hesitantly.
The fox whined and leaned against Tanuma's leg. Tanuma imagined a boy sitting on the ground, back pressed against the legs of Tanuma's chair, head drooping in exhaustion. He could almost see it, and was surprised when he reached out to tousle the boy's hair and felt only thick fur.
"Don't worry. We'll get out of here," Tanuma said. "I've still got a few ideas." He got up, groaning like an old man from the effort. "And if you've got an idea, tell me--bite me if you have to, if I don't pay attention."
The fox yelped an assent, its tail thumping with a bit more energy.
Tanuma walked to the window, pushing the shade aside and lifting the glass. "Let's see if this works," he said, grinning wryly as he removed the screen. It felt very silly, crawling through the window with a perfectly good door next to him, and then he was falling and hoping he wasn't going to land anywhere painful or, say, into some spiritual limbo of no return worse than the one he was already in.
He fell onto something that was both fuzzy and hard enough to leave a bruise on his hip. He was in a bathroom, he realized, and mentally thanked Touko for insisting the toilet lid always be put down. A moment later, he had a lap full of panicking fox.
"I forgot I'd been in here," Tanuma said sheepishly, smoothing the fox's raised hackles. "I didn't really think it counted as a room." He put a hand on the doorknob. "Let's see where this goes."
The bathroom opened to the hallway, and at the end of the corridor, just beyond the line of shoes and the rack for coats, was the most inviting door Tanuma had ever seen. He looked to the fox, who gave him a big, doggy grin. He laughed and bolted down the hallway, fox nipping at his heels and quickly passing him.
Tanuma skid to a halt and threw himself to the side before he even knew why--and then he realized that the fox had changed directions, looping back and baring its teeth. There was a--Tanuma didn't know what, a shadow, an arm?--swinging at him, and for an instant he saw a row of sharp, pointed teeth, and then the arm struck.
Tanuma ducked, twisting his body at the last moment, so the claws tore into his shoulder, not his head.
"This way!" Tanuma shouted, racing for the nearest door and trusting the fox would follow him. He heard the steady click of footsteps following them, and then he was through the door. They ran through three sets of rooms, the footsteps growing more and more distant, and then they were in the bathroom again and there was no way out.
"Quiet," Tanuma whispered as he scooped the fox onto his lap, and a quieter "Ow ow ow ow ow," when the movement strained his shoulder and the fox's little, sharp nails bit into his thighs.
They listened as the footsteps drew closer, Tanuma hardly daring to breathe, the fox panting in his ear, low and quick. He could feel the fox's heartbeat through its flank, strong and much too fast. "It's okay," he whispered under his breath, and wished that he believed it. "We'll be okay."
The footsteps receded, tapping their echoing way until they could no longer hear them. Tanuma relaxed, arms dropping to his sides. He rolled his shoulders and winced at the pull on his skin. He undid a few buttons and gingerly loosened the fabric above his wound, wincing again at the blood.
"He got me pretty bad," Tanuma said. He tried to reach around the fox for a washcloth, but he felt a firm pressure on his chest, pushing him back, and then the fox was leaning in, lapping at his wound.
Tanuma did his best to not think about germs or what the fox had eaten, since he was pretty sure he wasn't actually getting licked, despite what it looked like. His arm started to numb and there was a sharp tang in the air--maybe the fox was using herbs? Whatever it was, it was working.
"You saved me, you know," Tanuma said. The fox continued its administrations, but its ears flicked in his direction. "I couldn't see it, not until it was too late, and I--" He sighed. "It's always been like this, seeing glimpses or shadows, waking up with bruises and not knowing why. Before I met Natsume, I was always--"
He sighed again, and made a face. "Natsume goes through this kind of thing all the time, doesn't he?" He shook his head. "When we get out of here, I'm going to stuff so many protective sutras into his bag, he won't have room for his books."
The fox huffed onto his shoulder, and Tanuma realized it was laughing at him. A moment later, Tanuma was laughing too, his thin frame shaking with semi-hysterical giggles. "Thanks. For, well, everything, I guess." The fox gave him an affectionate lick on his cheek.
Tanuma turned his head until he could look into the fox's eyes--they were dark, but he remembered the boy's were a light brown, or maybe amber? He couldn't really map the boy onto the fox staring back, the fear tamped down by confidence was too complicated, too mature for a little boy.
"We're going to get out of here," Tanuma said, and the fox stared back, equally serious. "Next time we come to the hallway, we're going through that door no matter what. If that guy's there, I'll," he thought for a moment. "I'll act like bait, try to draw him in. When he looks like he's distracted, you give the signal, and we'll run past him and out the door. Sound like a plan?"
The fox looked dubious.
"Don't worry; I'm not planning on getting hurt. Neither of us will." He meant it, this time.
He stood up, letting the fox twine around his feet. "Okay," he said, and took two deep breaths, prepping himself like a method actor. "Think delicious thoughts."
With one more deep breath, he steeled his nerves and opened the door. Three more doors, and he was in the hallway.
The fox let out a low, warning growl. As much as Tanuma had hoped the hallway would be unguarded, he hadn't really expected it to be.
"It's okay, Rena," Tanuma said, making sure that his voice wobbled a little. He wouldn't be thanking the Academy any time soon, but it would probably be enough to fool a spirit unused to dealing with humans. "See? There's the door. We're almost free."
He took a step forward and stumbled, dropping to his knees, disguising how his feet were tensed to take off at a moment's notice.
This was it, the moment his acting skills paid off. "Don't worry about me; I'm fine." He gave the fox a little lying smile, one that tried to reassure and hide his troubles while making it so painfully obvious that he was hurting inside, he desperately needed help, but couldn't stand the idea of anyone knowing, and--well, it was a smile Tanuma had seen too many times, and it was nice to finally put it to some good use.
That was enough. The spirit was close, he could smell it, and there were shadows all around him, indistinct, but still very there. The shadows drew closer, twisting and turning at the corner of his eye, and then--
"Run! To your right!" some boy's voice yelled--it sounded sort of like his class president, Tanuma thought wildly, but his feet were already obeying the commands. He shot past the shadows and raced down the hall. "Hurry!" the voice yelled, and the fox was ahead of him, the door opening, and then they were through.
They were in the kitchen.
Tanuma wondered if the fox would think less of him if he started to cry.
"Okay. Plan," he counted on his fingers, "D, maybe?" He sat down on the floor and pulled the extra sweet potato from his pocket. He broke it into two pieces and offered the bigger bit to the fox.
"What would Natsume do?" Tanuma pondered as he munched. The fox yipped, and Tanuma laughed. "Yeah, he'd probably make friends. Or punch it. Maybe both," Tanuma reflected. "I don't think my arm's in any shape to punch anything. How about you?"
The fox looked game, if dubious. Tanuma scruffed its head. "We'll think of something."
He took another bite. Something about the sweet potato was making him feel better, less drained and fuzzy-headed. He guessed maybe it was his Dad's influence on the food, and decided to thank him whenever he saw him next.
"I'm not scared," he said at last. "Is that weird? I was always scared. Then I met Natsume, and you, and I realized that the things I saw were other beings living their lives, just like me. And even though something is trying to eat me, knowing that it can understand me, or," he laughed, "or that I could punch him, if I wanted to, it makes it...less scary," he finished weakly. "So, thank you."
The footsteps echoed outside the door. Tanuma lurched unsteadily to his feet. "Run or fight?" he asked the fox. It leapt onto the counter, nosing at the jars. "Still hungry?" he asked, lifting the lid off the cookie jar and hoping the fox would hurry. He didn't blame it--Tanuma was tired and hungry, too--but the fox ignored the cookies and continued fussing on the counter.
"I don't understand," Tanuma said, and the fox gently but deliberately closed its teeth on his hand and led it to one of the jars.
The door swung open, and the fox jerked in surprise, its teeth scouring thin pink lines on the back of Tanuma's hand. Tanuma held his hand to his chest, turning his head side to side as he tried to see if the creature would appear in the corner of his eye.
The fox leapt off the counter, feet splayed and claws ready, teeth sharp and bared as it gave a warning growl. It shot forward and gnashed its teeth at the air; it was thrown backwards, it claws skittering against the tile as it scrambled to find purchase on the slick floor.
Tanuma reached blindly over the counter, hand closing on an iron pan. He hurled it at where he thought the creature was, but it passed through empty air, denting a cabinet before clattering uselessly to the floor.
The fox leapt again and was batted aside, landing on the ground in a crumpled heap. Tanuma reached for something else to throw, and--he was very stupid sometimes, Tanuma reflected.
"Rena! Stay back!" he shouted as he grabbed a jar from the counter. He pried the lid off, dropping it on the ground, and as his hand closed around the cool, hard beans, he hoped that the gods weren't fussy and that pinto beans would work as well as soy.
"Demons: out!" he commanded, and threw the beans. The creature roared, and the world shifted around them. It was hard to see anything--everything was bright and blurry, like he had stood up too quickly after being sick. He was--in the living room, maybe? He recognized the lamp, though it looked like it was melting.
He threw another handful of beans, and the world blurred more, wind whistling about his ears. He threw another, and it hurt--not his abused arm, but deep inside, like his chest was a day-old bruise and even breathing made it ache. The world was white, and he threw another, and another, and he couldn't see anything, and where was the fox? and he was falling, falling
***
He was in a room he'd never seen before, lying on a futon, the fox stretched out on top of him. Tanuma remembered when he was eight and had fallen out of a tree, flat on his back, how all the air had left him, how that hadn't really hurt, not really, not until that first gasp when he remembered how to breathe.
He felt drained of--something, he didn't know what, but he felt empty, and it hurt in a vague way, but mostly he was warm and numb and certain it was going to hurt like hell very shortly.
"You okay?" he asked the fox, who lazily licked his cheek. He took that a 'yes.' He was a little too tired to go through the effort of lifting an arm to pet the fox, so he pressed a friendly peck on the top of its head. "Good," he said, and added, "You're heavy." The fox settled down again, as if gravity had doubled its effort.
He heard the light sound of bells and looked over to see wind chimes in a window. 'Oh,' Tanuma thought. 'So this is Natsume's room.' His eyes drifted down, and he saw that, yes, Natsume was there, too, with an entirely too amused cat perched next to him.
"Hey," Tanuma said. "Sorry about the mess."
For some reason, that made the cat snicker and Natsume turn red. "Mess?" Natsume asked.
"The beans," Tanuma clarified.
"It's okay," Natsume said quickly.
"There was a thing. I think it tried to eat us. Or me. The house kept repeating so I threw beans at it." He frowned, still fuzzy-headed. "Rena probably knows what happened better than I do."
"Rena?" Natsume asked.
"The little fox kid," Tanuma said, nodding at the fox sprawled over him. This made the cat laugh harder. "It's just a temporary name," Tanuma explained, which didn't seem to help anything.
"Little...kid..." Natsume repeated, a little broken.
"Well, not quite so little," Tanuma laughed, and bumped the fox. "You're heavy," he informed the fox again. It snuggled up closer and licked his cheek again.
Natsume abruptly looked at the ceiling. The cat rolled onto its back and pawed at the air, laughing hysterically. "Definitely not so little!" it crowed. "Def. Fin. Et. Lee."
The fox licked his cheek again, and it gave him a look that....
Tanuma replayed the last three days, mentally replacing his image of a little boy. He felt a flush travel from the tips of his ears to the end of his toes. "Oh."
The fox kissed him again, light and sweet, and Tanuma wondered just what he was supposed to do next.