Chapter LXXXIX (89)- Kitsune

In his entire time knowing Anata, Kizu had only ever heard her speak a few words and also only while disconnected from her physical body. He had assumed that she might actually be mute. Perhaps unable to form words due to her father’s monstrous heritage. And the few words she had communicated while in an astral state had never been more than a whisper.

Hearing Anata shout, Kizu didn’t do a double-take, he did a quadruple-take, not believing at first the word had been truly spoken by her. But the foxes also appeared equally surprised. Several of them still rammed into him, mid-jump, but they at least closed their mouths and didn’t sink their teeth into his skin. They lay on the ground, dazed and confused by the command.

“Why?” the fox-woman said, her slitted eyes narrowing. “What is he to you?”

Whatever compelled Anata to speech a moment earlier left her now. She blinked up at the woman, wide-eyed.

“Her uncle,” Kizu growled back as an answer.

That gave the woman pause. “Oh. From her mother’s side. Very well. I suppose you’re family as well then. Distant, but still related. Sit down.”

“No. I’m taking Anata back.”

“Anata? Is that her name?” She looked over at Anata who nodded. “I’ve been trying for nearly an hour to get that from her. Honestly, knowing Otochi’s reputation, I assumed he would choose something a bit more sinister for my cousin. Anata is almost…cute.”

Her cousin. And, judging by her adult age, extremely unlikely to be Finn’s daughter. Kizu tensed. That implied an extremely close relation with likely the most powerful creature he had ever encountered.

“She’s coming back with me,” Kizu repeated.

“Yes, yes. Of course. Why would I keep her here? I just wanted to chat with her.”

“You sent yetis across the tundra to kidnap her from me. Just to chat,” Kizu said flatly.

“Not quite,” she said. “They brought her as a surprise. If I had known, perhaps I might have considered going to visit myself. But with that wisp floating around, this is likely the better outcome of events.”

“What do you mean, ‘as a surprise?’”

She looked at him like he was an idiot. “Have you not noticed how magical creatures are lured by her?” There was a pause. Then she barked a humorless laugh. “You really haven’t? Magical creatures are drawn to her just as mortal humanoids are to her father. How dense of a caretaker does she have? Surely, Otochi didn’t truly pick you to watch over her? I was led to believe my uncle has more wits than that.”

“What are you?” Kizu asked. If she was a normal Kemon, he doubted there would be much of an issue entering into their camp.

“A Kitsune,” she said, as if everyone should know what that was. “Technically, only half. Just like your niece here. Now sit down, your looming is stressing out my pack.”

A couple of the foxes slinked off the nearby sofa, making room for him there. They still eyed him with narrowed eyes. Their suspicion of him appeared to equal that of his for them. Slowly, he sat down. He estimated he’d almost used about half his available blood reserves. If he reached Anata, that could be refreshed in an instant. But it would be ideal to get through this without killing Anata’s relatives in front of her.

“Good. It’s unfortunate you didn’t arrive last week. It could have been a real family reunion. Alas, perhaps it's better to get more acquainted in smaller groups. Can I get your name?”

“Kizu.”

“Very nice name. You may call me Kumiho. Now, Kizu, before you rudely interrupted, I was introducing Anata here to my children.”

Kumiho gestured to either side of her. The foxes shifted, sitting up straight.

“My name is Mae,” the red fox said in a childish voice. “Daughter of Kumiho, granddaughter of Zanko and heir of the Kitsune.”

There was a pause. The white arctic fox gnashed its teeth.

“Kon,” he finally said. His voice, while equally childish, was gravellier and sounded sullen. He gave no further introduction. Shaking his head, he continued to bite at the air. Kizu was familiar with the look from his years in the wilderness. It was one of a wild animal struggling with the idea of someone encroaching on his territory while being powerless to prevent it.

“I think this is a lovely surprise,” Kumiho said. “I never thought my estranged family would have a child around one of my own’s age. I believed most were a generation older, or a generation later.”

Kizu just nodded. He wanted to hear more about the details involving his sister and Anata’s father, but also wanted to be careful not to reveal anything to this creature about Anata. She was playing nice for the moment, but only a minute earlier she had demanded his death. If she could flip so easily once, a second time hardly seemed unlikely.

“You’re barely more of a talker than your niece,” Kumiho commented.

Another humanoid with a similar structure as Kumiho entered the room, holding a silver platter with teacups. The Kitsune woman’s arm shook slightly as she passed around the teacups to him, Kumiho, her children, and Anata.

If it wasn’t for the lack of windows in the room, Kizu might be able to believe he was visiting one of his parents’ friends, not surrounded by monsters in the upper floors of the most northern regions of the World Dungeon.

“It’s sad isn’t it?” Kumiho said after dismissing the server.

“I haven’t seen anything particularly sad.”

The two Kitsune children gave him glares at the comment, but Kumiho ignored him.

“In mythos, Kitsune could take the form of the most beautiful humanoids on the surface and live amongst them without anyone noticing. Now, the strongest pure Kitsune can barely hold shape for a few minutes before reverting.”

“You seem to be doing fine.”

She waved, seeming to accept the comment as a compliment. After a sip of tea, she looked him in the eye.

“I’m a half-breed. And my children are three-fourths. We are anomalies. Not unlike your niece.”

“Your parent was human? Who?” Kizu asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from Anata.

“Yes. My father. You wouldn’t know him, he was a nobody delver who went into the dungeon looking for riches and glory. I only knew him for a decade before he passed. Humans die so quickly. But I treasure those precious memories of him. He taught me how to be who I am. Humanity is a difficult concept for those down here to understand. Even more for Harbingers trapped between worlds.”

“Harbingers?”

She set down her teacup and leaned forward, scrutinizing him with a frown.

In front of her, Anata tried to take a gulp of her tea. Sputtering, she coughed and spilled her tea all down her sweater. Which made Mort, under the sweater, yelp and scurry out onto Anata’s head. The damp sections of the shirt steamed.

“Smaller sips, Anata,” Kumiho instructed sweetly. She leaned forward to dab at the spill with a handkerchief. “You’ll burn your mouth. And who’s your friend here? Hm. Is this how your uncle found you down here? Curious.”

Mort tensed as the Kitsune woman met his eyes and bared her teeth. Kizu felt him battle with his fight or flight instincts to keep his ground on Anata.

“We’re getting off topic,” Kizu said, frustrated with himself for engaging in conversation with the Kitsune. “I’m taking Anata back with me.”

“Anata,” Kumiho said, her attention snapping away from his familiar. “Do you want to return with this young man to the surface?”

Anata looked over at Kizu, then back to Kumiho. She nodded her head vigorously.

“Very well.” Kumiho stood and sighed. “You want to return to that frigid wasteland above. I can’t say I understand, but if that’s your wish.”

“Why are you here if you hate it so much?” Kizu asked.

“Because I don’t have another choice,” the Kitsune snapped, momentarily losing her composure. “Do you think I want to be buried under an ocean’s worth of ice, freezing half to death?”

The other foxes in the room growled. For the first time, Kizu noticed their red eyes. Not that different from those of bloodspawn.

She let out a breath, tension releasing from her. “Before you depart, please let me at least extend my hospitality. Prior to your arrival, Mae planned to show Anata around our humble home. Please don’t rob my daughter of that opportunity. She has precious few peers.”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The red fox beside Anata perked up. She obviously hadn’t expected to still have her request fulfilled.

Kizu met the gorgeous woman’s eyes. Her pupils were slitted like that of a fox. In every tale he’d ever been told of foxes, they were tricksters. Even their elegant appearance was notoriously deceptive. They were creatures more likely to drag someone down alongside them out of spite, rather than gracefully exit. He suspected those stories had roots amongst the Kitsune. The crone taught him all tales contained a kernel of truth. But she also taught him that humans foolishly villainized things they didn’t understand.

“No,” he said flatly. “I don’t trust you.”

“Is every word out of your mouth designed to antagonize me?” she asked cooly.

“Please!” the young red fox blurted out, interrupting her mother. She stepped forward and swished her bushy red tail back and forth. “I really, really want this! I just met my cousin, don’t take her away already!”

Kizu was about to coldly dismiss the fox when he caught a glimpse of Anata’s pleading expression. This was likely the first person her age who had ever spoken to her in her entire life. Like Kumiho said about Mae, Anata also had no friends. Not unlike himself at her age. Perhaps even worse off. He hadn’t done a good job of introducing her to other children. Another failure on his part.

In the end, he couldn’t bring himself to tear her away from her first friend. However he and Mort tagged along as well and Kizu remained wary with his spellsense enhanced and ready to detect anything unsavory. Now that he understood his bearings better, he could likely jump them to safety at a moment’s notice. And he also still kept the enchanted bell in arm’s reach, just in case.

Thankfully, Kumiho and her retinue of foxes opted to remain in the main room as Mae led them off down corridors. That allowed him to relax a little.

Mae spoke an endless stream of words to Anata. She told her all about her life down in the dungeon. If Anata’s lack of verbal engagement bothered her, she didn’t show it. Her brother, Kon, slinked after them as well, though he appeared far less happy about their company. Despite their animal faces, both Mae and Kon wore their emotions on their sleeves, their faces incredibly expressive. Though on opposite ends of the spectrum.

“I can’t believe you had a familiar with you!” Mae said, looking at Mort, who was perched on Anata’s shoulder. “I didn’t realize people actually used familiars. Mother made it sound like humanity learned their lesson from that.”

“What lesson?” Kizu asked, curious.

Mae looked back at him and tilted her head. “The people in the overland here are all messed up, right?”

Kizu thought about that. “You mean the Kemon? Familiars did that to them?”

“That’s what Mother says. Familiars are bad news.” She flicked her tail back and forth. “But one that’s already bonded to someone isn’t dangerous. Otherwise, Mother wouldn’t let it near us.”

That didn’t make much sense to Kizu. Mort had been a normal monkey before their bond. They’d both changed each other, but not until after the crone had set up their bonding ritual. It took a lot of effort and wasn’t something that could just occur by accident. But he kept that to himself, not wanting to explain the process to the girl.

“Do you always get to walk around looking like a human?” Mae asked Anata. “I’m jealous. I can only manage it for fifteen minutes. Mother says it will get easier after we spend more time on the surface around humans, but I wish I didn’t have to wait so long.”

“You can transform?” Kizu asked.

As a response, Mae stopped and shut her eyes tight. After a second, mist plumed off her fur like a small cloud. When it faded, a girl stood in front of him who looked a lot like a miniature version of Kumiho with freckles. Her red hair fell down her back all the way to her poofy tail that stuck out from under a snow-white kimono embroidered with pink cherry blossom flowers. She still wore the white scarf she had around her neck as a fox. Kizu scrutinized it further with his spellsense and noticed an enchantment laced into it, easily overlooked with a cursory glance. She grinned at him, showing off dimples. Like her mother, her pupils remained slitted like that of a fox.

Anata was starstruck by the transformation. She looked Mae up and down, shocked. She looked over at Kizu, and he got the impression that she wanted to ask if she could also transform into a different creature.

“Fifteen minutes might not seem like a lot in comparison to Mother, but Konkon can only hold his shape for less than a minute,” Mae bragged.

In his peripheral vision, Kizu saw the arctic fox roll his eyes. A bizarre and slightly off-putting action to see on an animal. While Kon remained hostile towards Kizu, he seemed to not mind Anata as he tailed directly behind her and Mae. Kizu wasn’t sure how to feel about that, but decided to quiet down and let the situation play out.

While in a humanoid form, Mae enthusiastically stumbled around as she pointed at different objects in the corridors and offshoot rooms. One aspect of her mother she appeared not to have inherited was the Kitsune woman’s effortless grace. Though maybe that would come along with age.

Kizu silently listened as Mae told the history of the Kitsune to Anata. Or, at least, the history as she knew it, Kizu thought to himself, remembering the headmaster’s lesson. According to Mae, thousands of years ago, Kitsune acted as the messengers between humanity and the denizens of the World Dungeon. They were seen as the peacekeepers of this region of the world and loved by all. But when their sibling monsters acted out, the Kitsune got locked away in the dungeon with them. The greatest injustice in history.

It all sounded a bit too fanciful to Kizu, but he kept his opinion to himself. Anata was enraptured by the tale.

“Your father tried to make an army, right? To fight against the oppressors?” Mae asked. “Did he ever tell you about it?”

Anata shook her head.

“I thought as much,” Mae said with an exasperated sigh. She pointed at a grisly painting of a battlefield filled with more shades of red than understandable images. “That’s as much of the war as I know. My mother won’t say a word about it.”

“Might not know,” Kon said, speaking for the first time. “Not old.”

“Konkon, Mother’s like over forty. That’s ancient!”

That surprised Kizu, though it really shouldn’t have. He had thought she looked mid-twenties at the oldest, and that was reinforced by the idea of her being Anata’s cousin. But he thought like a human. These creatures lived for centuries, if not millennia.

It chilled him to think Anata might still be around in a thousand years. It sounded lonely. Perhaps it was for the best if she became friends with others like Mae. Assuming Mae lacked an appetite for human flesh. Something yet unproven.

“And this is my room!” Mae said, continuing the tour. She waved her hands at an entrance that barely reached Kizu’s waist.

With a pop of smoke, Mae transformed back into a fox and scurried into the room with her head held high and her white scarf flapping behind her.

Anata ducked to enter the room after her.

Kizu and Kon remained outside, both untrusting of the other. Kizu crouched to look inside the room. He saw hundreds of plushies of different animals and creatures. Each stylized and colored flamboyantly enough to make even Basil jealous.

Anata stared in slack-jawed awe at the collection while Mae showed-off an orange hydra plushie, gently raising it by one of its scruffs with her teeth.

Every single plushie in the room apparently had a name and story, as well as a unique relation with the others. Despite his misgivings, Kizu found himself slowly won over by Mae’s sheer earnestness as she explained how Henry the Wyvern was jealous of Ji the Wyrm’s scale colors. It just seemed so…childish. In a comforting way.

If he had brought something like a plushie to the crone, she would likely have repurposed it as a curse designed to inflict pain on whatever creature it might resemble. In fact, as his memories drifted back, he vaguely recalled hearing the crone once say she trapped her last apprentice’s soul in a doll. But that likely was just a story to scare him. But…if not, he wondered what had happened to the doll after the crone’s hut had been raided. Aoi would likely be willing to kill for a cursed soul imbued item like that.

“Her name is Komori,” Mae said, noticing Anata had picked up a purple bat. “She’s not very popular with the others because she can’t see and is always bumping into them. If you like her, you can take her with you!”

Anata gaped at her and tried to set the bat plushie back on its perch among the others, but Mae cut in front of her and pushed the bat back up at her with her snout.

“She’s so lucky to get to travel outside the cave. Please take her with you!”

Kizu noted with some amusement that Anata gave in without too much more pushing on Mae’s part. She must really want a stuffed doll. He resolved to get her more toys when they returned.

“I wish I could go with you too. You’re so lucky.”

“Better here,” Kon grumbled from the entry next to Kizu. “Safe.”

If Mae heard him, she didn’t acknowledge her brother.

“I wish you could tell me what it’s like up there,” she continued wistfully. “Mother says Hon is beautiful and filled with trees that grow pink flowers. I want to see them for myself one day.”

From Kizu’s perspective, cherry blossoms seemed pretty mundane in comparison to the bizarre features of the World Dungeon. But he wasn’t so tactless as to stomp over a child’s dreams.

“What’s stopping you?” he asked.

Mae buried her head in a bunch of plushies and grumbled incoherently. Then she perked up and whipped around, grinning at him.

“I’m not supposed to talk about the seal with people outside the family,” she said. “But you’re part of the family! Mother even said so!”

“No, he’s not,” Kon snarled.

“Is too. Anyway, if you have a problem with it, go complain to Mother yourself.”

Kon growled, but didn’t protest further.

“We have to break the seal to let all the Kitsune out again. Or, well, I don’t personally, but Mother is supposed to. And since the seal’s here, so are we.”

“A seal?” Kizu said slowly.

“Like the ones the slimes broke,” Mae offered helpfully.

“You mean…when the slimes escaped the World Dungeon? The event that resulted in a massive genocide that brought the gnome species to the brick of extinction?”

Mae blinked at him. “Maybe? But it’s not like we’re like that. Mother told us Kitsune are the mediators between worlds. If we got free, maybe that wouldn’t happen anymore. We don’t want to kill people.”

“I’d kill them,” Kon offered unhelpfully.

“You’d kill anything if Mother let you. It’s not like you discriminate.”

“Wouldn’t kill you.”

“Anyway, when Mother found Anata, she thought she might know where the seal was. I don’t know why. But obviously she doesn’t know.” Mae paused then looked over at Anata who was still holding up her new bat plushie. “You don’t know, right?”

Anata looked over and furrowed her brow before shaking her head.

Kizu wanted to ask more questions about this seal and those Harbingers that Kumiho mentioned earlier. If they had a seal here for the Kitsune and the slimes had another. Did that mean there was another one somewhere for the bloodspawn? But before he could find a delicate way to structure the question, Kumiho walked down the corridor. Her scarlet kimono swished around her legs as she approached with four foxes in her wake.

“I thought I might find you here. I realized that if you wish to return to the surface, you will need a guide. Your familiar might have been able to direct you here, but won’t be much help on the way out. Sekai likes to play tricks on fools who enter.”

Kizu almost instinctually declined the offer. He didn’t trust the Kitsune. Even more so now that he knew they wished to break some sort of seal. He might not know the details of the situation, but if Ilosin-Don served as an example, he figured those seals existed for a very good reason. Avoiding further genocide seemed like the best course of action.

But he struggled to find a way to explain that he could find a way out of the World Dungeon on his own. He was loath to mention his atlas, let alone the bell.

“That would be very kind of you,” he ended up saying through gritted teeth. “Will we depart now?”

“Unless you wish to stay longer. Though your manners leave much to be desired, you and Anata are guests here. Family.”

“No, we’re ready to leave.”

“Very well, follow me.”

She pivoted and started down a side corridor.

“Anata,” Kizu called to his niece. “It’s time to go.”