Kuro laid in bed. Listening to the snow twinkle.
It is cold. He thought glumly. As usual.
He was using his superior intellect to deliberate. Should he get out of bed or stew in self pity for another few minutes? His eyes scrunched closed behind the eye mask he wore while sleeping. The mask was supposed to reduce wrinkles and soothe damage done to his eyes by the hours he spent toiling on his various gardening and broken toy projects.
Broken. Like me.
With a sigh, the black fox threw the mask across the bed. He threw it a little too hard. It fell behind the bed. He expected that living this lifestyle would cause these existential crises. He knew this existentialism would pass, from personal experience, but no amount of intellect could have prepared him for the intensity of his own thoughts. It was a good thing he knew how smart he was. Not very smart.
Whenever he was not distracted by working, the intensity of his thoughts was not matched by the rays of sun filtering into his room. He forced himself to slump over the bed and retrive the mask in his stumpy paws. After dusting the eye mask off, Kuro set the eye mask down on the bedside table. He pushed his glasses up onto his face and made his way to the bathroom to freshen up. Dragging all four of his paws and his tail.
Kuro wiped his mouth with the back of his forepaw after a sneeze that snuck up on him. The black fox scrubbed his teeth with his favorite mint flavored toothpaste before rinsing. He glanced into the mirror with his glowing yellow eyes. Kuro did not like reminding himself of what he was now. Even if he had mastered this body. He splashed his face before his stomach grumbled. Defeated, he dragged himself to the kitchen.
The black fox mashed the buttons on his microwave with his stumpy paws to heat a bowl of rice. Thanks to this gloom, he thought about taking it easier than he usually did.
BEEP.
BEEP.
BEEP.
The microwave's beeping like a life support machine, snapped his melancholy train of thought. He devoured the leftover rice as if he had not eaten in weeks. If he did not let down his guard, he would forget his past one of these days. Before he became a black fox. How long would that take?
It's about time I got back to repairing toys for the children. Yeah, that's what I'll do.
His prices were reasonable. Even at a loss. The children could afford them. Even in this ever changing age of technology, the traditional toys brought joy and interest to children.
On auto-pilot, Kuro cleaned his bowl and then meandered towards his greenhouse. He lost track of the time he spent watering and pruning his personal slice of greenery before returning to his workshop to lose himself in toy repairs. Kuro's paws might no longer be hands, but his paws moved the fastest at even the most delicate tasks. Snow fell softly outside. The forecast in this white void usually consisted of snowing softly, gail force-blizzards or about to snow. Being surrounded by greenery and steam on his glasses, tricked the black fox's mind into forgetting where he was for a brief reprieve.
As much as he lamented about it, he could not live anywhere else. He died that day. He did not feel at home anywhere except here with his greenhouse and workshop. Who would let a black fox live in a city apartment that did not allow pets or the countryside where foxes were notorious for breaking into chicken coops and being hunted for it?
An accident like that was not something he could forget. Even though he wanted to. Though the pain of transforming was far worse than the crash itself. The shrinking of his limbs. Bones rearranging like a room during spring cleaning. That god awful sound. The fur sprouted through his skin. Kuro tried to shake the image from his head. Flicking on the light to illuminate his work bench. He was always the lonely sort, but total isolation in a frozen wasteland was too much of a stretch. He had not done anything to deserve isolation. Though, his mind had repressed it when it happened. It was only in the years after that all the pieces fit together to form the whole timeline from before the accident, during and after. He was eighteen back then. He had matured in the years that followed.
Feeling a bit of warmth in his stomach from the rice he devoured, Kuro decided to rearrange his tools and resources before he dipped his paws into the box of broken toys that he acquired recently using the money from selling other toys to good homes where they would be loved. The thought almost brought tears to his eyes.
All these toys are broken, like me. He sighed for the second time that day.
The transformation was not all that bad. He had found new aspirations he would have never thought possible when he was a human.
His brows furrowed as he toiled away. Sweeping clean the work table. Organizing all of the bits and bobs into a myriad of containers he did not know he had laying around until he started looking. The scrunching of paper, clacking of latches, jostle of pins and plastic buttons and the sliding of wooden drawers formed a satisfying harmony.
Gee, I really do sound older than I am. What'll happen when I am older? When was the last time I cleaned? Good question. Kuro rubbed his chin.
His thick brows furrowed in thought. Kuro did not consider himself that interesting. In his opinion, his entire personality could be summarized in a couple of lines. He tracked down, repaired and sold old toys. He kept a lush greenhouse of rare plants in the middle of a frozen wasteland. He was a fox. No longer human.