Author's notes: Greetings to you all. If a disclaimer is needed, this is a story derived from Okayado's Monster Musume setting and Kenkou Cross's Monster Girl Encyclopedia. I own only the rights to my original characters.
As my first attempt at fiction of any kind, I've been a bit nervous about posting this. It is, to some degree, a self-insert; while there are many details that are changed for the sake of the story, some remain true and real. And while I intend to explore mature themes, outright lemons are really not my style, just to let you all know in advance.
My original writing was not episodic, so I'll be dividing what I have so far into sections / chapters that hopefully are sensible. We'll see how it goes. I've also been more concerned with writing what's on my heart at the time rather than issues of pacing and such, though I do try to maintain a balance. We'll see how that goes, too.
The First Day: Life Changes, part 1
The beginning of our story finds Agent Abigail Jones seated at the kitchen table of one Daniel Carson on a sunny August Saturday morning in his simple two-story townhouse in Medford, a suburb of Boston, Massachusetts. Agent Jones is a tall, slender, attractive woman in her early thirties wearing her agency's trademark black suit and slacks, though she's removed her dark sunglasses so that the two might speak eye-to-eye. Her long deep-auburn hair is worn in a ponytail, and her green eyes convey interest, curiosity, and a touch of concern, which she is trying her best to keep concealed.
"So tell me, Mr. Carson, why did you apply to become a host with the Interspecies Cultural Exchange program?" she asked as she looked about the room, noting that it was sparsely, though not spartanly, furnished. It was clean and functional, but it clearly had not known a woman's touch. And while there were pictures hung tastefully about the room, there were no family photos to be seen, and the refrigerator door was entirely bare.
"Please, call me Daniel."
"Alright, Daniel. I'll be frank – you're somewhat older than the applicants we normally consider. However, you do have some unique qualifications that may make you the ideal candidate for a particularly difficult case we have right now," the concern in her eyes becoming more pronounced as she said this.
"Yes? Well, to answer your question, as I'm sure you know, I lost my family in an accident a few years ago."
Agent Jones looked intently at the man opposite the table from her, gauging his emotional state as he sighed deeply at the memory. Daniel Carson was not a particularly handsome man, being in his early forties, of average height and slightly stocky build, clean-shaven, his short light-brown hair beginning to thin at the top. He was dressed simply in a nondescript green t-shirt, blue jeans – not the kind with the pre-made holes in them – white socks, and black sneakers; clearly fashion sense was not a priority for him. But there was something indefinable about him that inspired trust. Perhaps it was his turquoise-blue eyes, which were kind, compassionate, and discerning. Or it may have been the sense of deep inner peace he radiated, even as he was momentarily reliving what must have been the greatest tragedy of his life.
"We do have that on record, yes. Your wife and son, ten years ago. How have you been managing since then?" she asked, the compassion in her voice genuine.
"I feel I've come to terms with it as best I can. You know, people say life goes on and that time heals all wounds, but it really doesn't. I won't lie – I did a lot of soul-searching for a while, and it took me to some dark places internally. But I've never been one to drink or do drugs or anything like that. Only effective way I've found to deal with pain is head-on. Anyway, I found the light at the end of the tunnel after a few months, and that was what I needed to keep me going. That was a long time ago, now. I feel I still have a lot to give, and I know what it is to be a stranger in a strange land, so to speak. If I can make getting to know our culture just a little easier for even one of the students in your program, that's good enough for me," he said, smiling good-naturedly.
Agent Jones smiled back and nodded, considering, then she reached for the cup of tea he'd given her to take a long sip before continuing on to a new topic.
"And you've attained the rank of hachidan in aikido. That's eighth-degree black belt, yes?"
"That's right, and I salute your knowledge. Not many people outside the art know the ranks. My parents, God rest their souls, started me out when I was four. They liked it because it was non-violent. I took to it like a duck to water. It was the center of my life right up until I met my wife. I still do the exercises to stay in shape, though I haven't been active in the circuit for a long time now. There have been other martial arts as well, though I've always considered aikido to be 'home'."
"I see. That's pretty impressive. And you speak Spanish?" she asked.
"Not like a native, but pretty well. I spent some time in South America after the accident."
Agent Jones nodded again. Now for the big one. "And tell me, how exactly does this 'empathy' thing of yours work?"
Daniel raised an eyebrow and regarded her, clearly not expecting the question. "Honestly, I'm kind of surprised you know about that. It's not exactly something I go spreading around. How did you find out about it, if you don't mind my asking?"
"We like to do our homework. It's important that we be as sure as we can that our hosts and their charges are compatible, wouldn't you agree?" she asked, seeing him nod in response. "And in your case, we talked to some of the people you've helped over the years. One thing each and every one of them remarked on was how you seemed to know exactly what they were feeling. They said that they could see it in your eyes and that you always knew exactly what to say and do. It seems like you've already made a big difference in many people's lives."
"I'm always thankful when I can help someone. But yeah, when I'm around someone who's feeling something strongly, I do feel what they're feeling. Not sure I can explain exactly how it works. And I can't tell you how confusing it was when I was a kid. I'd be feeling things from everyone around me and thinking all the feelings were mine. It didn't help being a sensitive intellectual in a rough-and-tumble farming community. I got picked on rather a lot, as you might imagine. It's a double whammy when someone's trying to beat up on you and you feel their unreasoning hatred toward you and think it's your own. The aikido kept me physically safe, but the emotions still made an impact. Wasn't until I was much older that I finally realized what was happening and was able to put it into some kind of perspective. Since then, I've found it really useful for helping others, among other things."
"What kinds of other things, if I may ask?"
"Well, lots of things in everyday life. You know how people often seem to do inexplicable things for no discernable reason? Meaning no offense, but men often have that complaint about women, for example. But if you can feel what they're feeling, you can begin to understand why – to hear what they're not saying. There are lots of ways to use that information to help out, but you can only do that if you care.
"Or you know how some people just get a certain sense about someone they see or have just met? It's like that on steroids. For example, you may not know if someone is lying to you on a specific occasion, though that often happens, too. But you can almost always tell whether or not a person is trustworthy or is speaking from ulterior motives or manipulation. You can hear it in their heart and voice, in the way they express their words, and from their body language – especially the eyes. It's not 100% accurate – I mean, I'm still a fallible human, after all – but in my experience, it's much higher than 99%.
"It's also the reason I've been alone all these years, to be completely honest. It's very hard to find someone who can handle that level of intimacy. After a few bad experiences over the years with 'getting back into the game', I took myself out of the game completely a while ago and have never looked back. It's just better to be alone than to be with the wrong person.
"So, I figured that since my chances of finding another miracle love were slim-to-none, I'd put myself out there as a host. Whatever girl – and I figured it would be a girl – you'd assign to me would almost certainly be way too young for me, but I could still care for her and take care of her as perhaps a host-father. That would actually bring a lot of joy into my life, and most, if not all, of that joy would come from working to make her happy and help her become a part of our society."
As Agent Jones digested this for a moment, looking at him, wondering idly what he saw in her eyes, she realized that she found his easy manner and openness disarming. She also found her concern easing in his presence, which surprised her a bit. Not only was he inspiring trust, he was inspiring confidence as well. Coming to a decision, she straightened in her chair and placed her hands before her on the table.
"Alright, Mr. Carson – er, Daniel, sorry. I appreciate your candor. And I think you may be able to help us. First, let me tell you what we can offer you. Do I understand correctly that you've been looking to change your line of work?"
Daniel again raised an eyebrow. "You really have done your homework. That's another thing I don't go spreading around. But yes, for some time now, I've wanted to work in an area where I could help people instead of sitting at a computer all day fixing bugs in other people's code," he chuckled. "Not that my own code is always bug-free, mind you, but I try."
"You've been a software engineer for what, twenty years now?"
"Yes, that's right. Since right out of college, and even when I was in South America."
"And you've been helping people in your own way for the last ten years?"
"That's about right, too. People mysteriously started coming to me with their problems right after I got things figured out; no idea why. But that's when I discovered I could actually help them."
Jones reached into the left inner pocket of her suit coat and pulled out an envelope, pushing it across the table to Daniel, who opened it while she continued. "This is what we're prepared to offer. In addition to being a host, you would be joining us as Special Consultant. We'd need you to move to our facility in New Hampshire. All of your moving and living expenses will be paid, and you will receive a company car in addition to the salary you see there, along with the usual benefits. Your responsibilities will be, first and foremost, to assist us with this case I mentioned. This will probably take considerable time and energy on your part, and I'll go into the details on that in just a minute. If you are successful, this case will become your homestay. Regardless of your success, you will then be called upon to help with other special cases as they arise. And they do arise – quite frequently, in fact. This might involve some travel around the country, and possibly even internationally."
"That does seem very interesting, and it's much more than I was expecting," Daniel said with some surprise. "But wouldn't the need to travel be at odds with my responsibilities as a host?"
"We'll make sure there's no conflict, one way or another, even if it means sending your homestay along with you."
"Can't argue with that. Honestly, I'm impressed, and your offer is more than generous," he added, putting the paper back into the envelope. "Is there a catch to this that I'm missing?"
Jones chuckled and took another long sip of her tea. "Not really. Since the program began in the US last year, things have been proceeding reasonably well. However, as you are aware if you've read the rules for being a host, any violation of the ICE laws could potentially be very serious, possibly even escalating to an international – and interspecies – incident, not to mention the termination of the program. This is something we want to avoid at all costs, which means we're willing to pay to make sure that doesn't happen. If you agree to our terms, your services will be a part of that insurance."
"You must be well-funded," he remarked.
"You have no idea. I only wish they'd throw a little more of it my way… But I can't complain. Too much," she smiled wryly. "In any case, in the interest of full disclosure, I should also tell you that a significant proportion of the homestays are, shall we say, physically dangerous in some way. Most are far stronger than we humans. Some are poisonous. Some have formidable natural weaponry. These risks are factored into the salary we're offering.
"Before you make a decision, though, I need to tell you what your first and most important assignment will be." Concern lined the agent's face, this time impossible to conceal. "Do you know anything about manticores?"
"Assuming you mean the liminal species and not the legendary creature, only what I've read on the ICEP web site. Feline, female-only, aggressive, wings, a rather unique tail… I read about all the possible home-stay species when I applied – I wanted to be as prepared as I could be for whatever might be needed."
"That's a good start." Agent Jones closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It wasn't often that cases got to her, but this one… She let her breath out slowly, and when she re-opened her eyes, she was unable to hold back her tears, try as she might. As she connected with Daniel's eyes, she could see that he was feeling her pain as well but was at peace, waiting patiently for her to begin in her own time.
Marshaling her inner strength, she pressed on. "This particular manticore didn't formally apply to the exchange program. She was rescued from a group of very well-armed men who had captured her and were abusing her in some of the most sadistic ways I've ever heard of. We don't know how long this had been going on, but the team who rescued her reported that it had very clearly been a long, long time. We think those men had killed her family as well, as there was an unmarked mass grave on the premises containing the bodies of other manticores. One of them was just a ch-child," she said, her voice faltering.
Daniel quickly reached over and placed his hand on hers, tears streaming down his own face, though his eyes remained steady. Grateful for the contact, and feeling renewed from his peace and compassion, she went on. "Of course, we arrested the men – those who survived the shoot-out – and we brought her back to our NH facility. She's been there for five days now. She won't talk, and she's not eating. She's been nonresponsive to all therapy. There's no place we can send her for help – she has no family we know of, no home to go back to. You are our last hope. You are her last hope. Will you help her?" Jones's eyes were pleading, and she looked to be on the verge of breaking down.
His hand still on hers, his eyes still steady, Daniel said without hesitation, his voice full of conviction, "I have to try. I accept your offer."
Placing her other hand on top of his, she looked at him through her tears and said, "Thank you. Thank you." Taking another deep breath, she withdrew her hands and wiped at her eyes, her face a bit flushed from embarrassment as well as the tears. "Sorry," she said, "I'm not usually so unprofessional."
Handing her a handkerchief, which she accepted gratefully, he said, "If you could say all that without tears… Well, there's just no way you could. You have a beautiful heart," he smiled, wiping at his own tears. "So, where do we go from here? What's the plan?"
Her face a bit more flushed from the unexpected compliment, she pulled herself together. "Right. What we need to do is send you to the facility right away. She needs you now. I only hope she will let you help her." And that she won't lash out and hurt you in the process, she thought to herself. "I'm going to call right now for a helicopter to pick you up. If you can get to this address…" she pulled out a pen and a business card, scribbled on the back of the card, and handed it to him, "It should be waiting for you by the time you get there. I'll stay behind and take care of all of the other arrangements. Your things will be arriving tonight, so you won't even need an overnight bag."
"Wow, that's efficient. You must have known I would accept. Is there anything I should take with me now?"
"I hoped you would. And no, nothing that you don't normally already carry with you. Let me call a taxi for you, too."
While Agent Jones made her calls, Daniel got up and made a quick bathroom stop and washed his face, all the while doing a quick mental check to see if there was anything he might need to take with him. He couldn't think of anything out of the ordinary, so he grabbed the backpack he always took with him to work and returned to Jones, saying, "I just want to thank you, Agent Jones, for everything."
"It's Abigail. And thank you, Daniel. You just may be saving a life. At the very least, you've given us hope. Your taxi should be…" she paused as they both heard a car horn beeping outside, "…here. Goodbye for now, Daniel. I'll see you soon." She fought the urge to embrace him as he turned to leave. What are you thinking? she chided herself.
"Be seeing you," he waved with a smile. And with that, he was off.