Kit ran, fleet-footed, paws hardly touching the warm soil of the Hida foothills. He followed the natural switchbacks up toward the mountains northward, where Sika awaited his report. It had been a long day of scouting the abandoned towns of the Chubu region, but for once he hadn’t run into any trouble. This was more than just good news. It meant easier scavenging runs for his camp, yes, but also a shift in the balance of life in the region.
Kit topped a rise and grinned widely when the first draft of cooler air penetrated his rich red fur. After yet another record-breaking scorcher of a summer, Fall was finally on its way. He sniffed. Yes, rain was coming. Still a pleasant thought, though it put him in mind of Shinigami, the last tropical storm that had come through and ravaged his homeland. So much had changed that day…
“Kit!” a voice called, interrupting his thoughts.
Kit straightened to stand on two legs, brushed a bit of dirt off his pants, shook out his black-tipped tail, and looked for the voice’s owner.
“Up here!”
“Fuku!” he laughed, ears twitching. “You snuck up on me.”
The crane woman swooped to land gracefully near him. Her serious demeanor stole away Kit’s good mood.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Poachers,” she said breathlessly. “Ten clicks north. They’re hunting some Unchanged deer, but if they keep following the trail, they’ll find our camp.”
“That’s sector nine,” Kit mused, “Ursa’s beat. Where’s he at?”
Fuku shook her head, long neck bobbing. “Dunno. Didn’t see him.”
“And the poachers didn’t see you?” Kit asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“Alright, I’ll head up that way. Swing around east of the poachers and look for signs of Ursa. If they hurt him…”
“I’m sure he’s fine,” said Fuku, rising off the ground with flaps of her great wings. “You know how he wanders.”
Kit growled lowly, frowning. He shouldn’t have let himself think the day would end without trouble. There was always something to deal with, these days.
“Stay high,” he told the crane-woman. “Don’t get shot!”
Fuku stuck out her tongue but gave a thumbs up as she glided away.
Kit broke back into a run, on all fours for speed. Before he’d been running for exercise and enjoyment, now he had a mission. Thanks to the Change, and all the conditioning he’d done in the years since, he now had more than the combined speed and endurance of a fox and a human. Ten clicks was nothing he couldn’t handle. These poachers were about to regret setting foot on AERL territory.
They weren’t the first, and they wouldn’t be the last. From vagrants to hunters to humans who loudly declared their hatred of all the Changed - who the humans called Savages - there was always someone rooting around in Kit’s domain.
In a way, Kit couldn’t blame them. Times were hard for everyone. Higher global temperatures meant failed crops, and dying fauna, even in the fertile regions of Japan. Between the climate crisis, Shinigami’s ravaging of the island, the nuclear meltdown that ensued, and all the conflicts with the Changed animals that appeared after the disaster, the human population outside the big cities fell further by the day.
Yes, Kit had empathy, but his people came first. What had started as a small camp consisting of him and a few friends had grown into the Animal Equal Rights League, the AERL. It was Kit’s every intention to prove the Changed more than ‘savages’, and to help them claim their place in the world. If that meant busting a few human heads, then so be it.
Kit smelled and heard the poachers before he saw them, which gave him time to stop and catch his breath. The deeply folded hills made sound echo in strange ways, but he was pretty certain the intruders were just over the next two hills. He crept carefully now, whiskers twitching, weaving through trees and avoiding dry brush. One downside of being human sized was the effort it now took to watch his steps. As a mere fox, he could have danced gracefully through the forest and bit the ear of an unwary enemy before they even knew he was there.
Kit grinned to think of the mischief he’d gotten up to in those days.
One hill between them, and Kit could make out their speech.
“You never hunt deer before?” said a man’s voice, gruff and low. “Freakin’ stupid, Akio! You have to keep upwind.”
“How was I supposed to know?” came a younger man’s voice. “My dad never took me out hunting, alright? All our groceries came by dragonfly drone.”
“Common sense,” the older man grumbled. “Alright, here’s what we do…”
Kit stopped listening to their argument and crept up the hill and behind the poachers, keeping low. Finally he spotted them between the trees, crossing through a grassy clearing below. The older man was large, burly, but a bit hunched over. His cheeks were puffy, as if he drank too much. The younger man, Akio, was far too thin, and every step he took looked labored. His nervous eyes cast about erratically, as if any moment some wild beast would fall from the trees to attack.
How right he was. If Kit could just put a good enough scare into them, they’d go back to their own camp and warn the others off coming here. Hopefully.
“Then, we circle around northeast, get above ‘em,” the older man was saying.
As he pointed, Akio followed with his eyes. Kit took the moment of opportunity and broke cover, padding almost silently across soft grass, launching into a sprint. He took Akio at the waist, twisting his body to toss the thin man aside.
“Dai!” Akio screamed.
His back slammed into a tree trunk and the wind was knocked out of him. He coughed and retched for breath. The older man, Dai, had spun, rifle at the level, but Kit was already out of sight.
He held his breath around the wide, rough trunk of a tree and bent all his senses to tracking Dai.
“You’re a damn Savage, aren’t you?” growled Dai.
Kit heard his feet turning in the brush as the man searched for him. Akio was still wheezing his lungs out.
“Tell you what,” said Dai, and Kit could hear him sneering, “just ‘cause you’re big, and you can talk, doesn’t mean you don’t still taste delicious.”
This ignited Kit’s animal rage but he held himself. No sense getting shot over stupid bait like that.
“Akio, get up you moron,” Dai said, and Kit heard that he had turned away.
Kit rounded the trunk and was on the older man in an instant, clawed hands on his wrists. Dai wrenched away, surprisingly strong, and accidentally fired a shot up into the trees. A flock of crows broke away, cawing.
Kit bit down on Dai’s left arm, fangs piercing the synthetic jacket sleeve. Dai screamed and lost his grip on the rifle, which Kit kicked away. But the old man was faster than he’d expected. He slammed a meaty fist into Kit’s gut and the fox-man doubled over in pain. Dai followed up with a knee to Kit’s temple. But through the sudden dim dizziness Kit remembered everyone who was counting on him in the mountains above. With a howl of rage he tore at Dai’s legs with his claws, ripping through fabric and skin, then ducked between them, twisted with catlike grace, and leapt onto the man’s back, establishing a choke hold.
Dai’s tongue lolled and veins popped out on his forehead.
“Hep, hep,” he tried to call to Akio.
“L-l-let him go,” Kit heard the trembling voice. “I got a gun.”
Flaring his nostrils, Kit craned his head to look at Akio. The younger man had been bolder than he expected.
“Just go home, kid,” Kit said.
Akio’s eyes went wide as saucers and he trembled all the more. Looked like he’d never seen one of the Changed speak before.
“Go home,” Kit repeated, “and tell your clan never to come near my mountain again. Got it?”
Akio nodded hesitantly, but didn’t lower the rifle.
“I let him go,” Kit guided him, holding his gaze with almond eyes, “you don’t shoot. You try to shoot me, and miss, old Mr. Dai here is dead, got it?”
“Y-y-yes,” Akio rasped.
Kit lithely flipped over Dai’s head to get his body between him and the rifle, then gave him a stiff push toward his younger companion.
But when Kit saw the rage in Dai’s red eyes, he knew the man wasn’t going to let this go. In the space of a few instants, Kit dropped back toward the tree line, and Dai drew a large hunting knife from a sheath at his side, lunging forward. Kit was faster.
Kit launched himself off a tree trunk to leap over the charging man, makeshift sword drawn, and sliced through Dai at the shoulder. Time slowed as Dai screamed in pain, struggling to keep his arm from falling off. Kit stared down the barrel of Akio’s rifle for the moment before it fired. The flat of his sword slapped the barrel aside and the gun thundered in Kit’s sensitive ears.
When Akio realized he’d missed, he broke and ran, dropping the rifle.
“It didn’t have to be this way!” Kit called after him. “We leave you alone, just leave us alone!”
But for all his weakness and fear, adrenaline had hurried the younger man away. He was gone.
Kit sheathed his sword, checked himself for unknown injuries.
“All clear,” he muttered.
While he waited for his ears to stop ringing, Kit watched Dai on the ground beneath him. The big man’s eyes were wide - he’d gone into shock, mouth moving soundlessly. He wasn’t going to make it, and there was nothing Kit could do for him, even if they made it back to base in time.
“You took your own life in your hands when you came to our mountains,” Kit told him, stooping to retrieve the fallen rifle. “And again when you attacked me after I let you go. I’m sorry… that you chose death.”
Kit regarded Dai a moment longer, and though it was distasteful, took a long sniff of the man. Yes, the tinge of death was on him already. It was regrettable, but that was fate, wasn’t it?
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Kit trotted out of the clearing, rifle in hand, and did not look back at Dai’s body again.
***
What had once been a humble, semi-permanent camp for Kit and his close circle of Changed friends had now grown into a full-fledged base, nestled in the upper reaches of the Hida mountain range. Home to all who wished to join in the mission of the Animal Equal Rights League, it now boasted barracks, gardens, a mess hall, an open commons area, and stocks of food, medicine, armor, and of course, weapons.
Smiles and waves greeted Kit as he returned to base, lifting his spirits. He took a route past the quartermaster’s hut, a low, wide building cobbled together out of scrap metal and wood. He hated guns, hated the sound and the smell of them, but there was no sense leaving the dead man’s rifle just lying around.
The quartermaster, a Changed macaque named Osamu, stood and leaned far over his desk, quizzical eyes squinted. He scanned the rifle closely while Kit approached.
“Osamu,” Kit greeted with a nod. The snow monkey nodded back, and his tail twitched.
“Loots for me?” Osamu asked. “Looks rugged.”
“Seems to be in good shape,” Kit said, turning the rifle over.
“Bullets?” Osamu asked.
Kit licked at one fang absently. He hadn’t searched Dai’s body.
“Didn’t check. Poachers. I had to get out of there quickly,” Kit said.
Osamu frowned but said, “No matter. I send one of my boys out. You just tell me where.”
“Alright then, it’s all yours,” Kit said, and set the rifle down on Osamu’s upcycled desk. “Still loaded - watch out.”
Osamu snatched up the gun greedily and his marble eyes searched its every imperfection.
“Oh yes,” he said, not looking up. “Ursa looking for you. Newbies, up over Northridge.”
“Newbies?” Kit mused. “Thanks, O.”
It had been a while since they’d encountered any other Changed. Whoever this was must have heard about AERL, and traveled a long way to visit. Kit left the quartermaster’s hut and made his way across camp, sniffing for Ursa. Soon he caught the scent, along with a handful of others. Five, he guessed. He smelled cat for certain, dog and maybe a monkey.
Kit followed the trail up and around the outcropping of bare rock they called Northridge, and found Ursa and the newbies there, sitting in a natural rocky amphitheater. The bear-man looked up when he heard Kit’s approach.
“Kitty!” Ursa bellowed. “You’re looking pink. What happened? Is that blood on your jacket?”
“Poachers, Ursa,” Kit frowned. “In your sector.”
“Crap,” cursed the bear. “I knew something would happen if I ditched my patrol, but I couldn’t just let the newbs run around looking for base. Someone mighta’ gotten hurt.”
Ursa had a point. Kit decided to forgive him.
“Just kidding about you being pale, Kit,” Ursa said. “Looking red as a rose.”
“Thanks, Ursa,” said Kit. He took up an appraising stance atop a smooth boulder, crossed his arms and surveyed the group. They looked so young. He’d been right about the species - there were two cat-girls, one dog-boy, and a pair of macaques like Osamu. “You’re looking well too. Brown as a pile of —”
“So listen,” the bear cut him off, grinning. “We got a bit of a problem here. These kids want to join up - word about the AERL is really getting around.”
“That’s a good thing,” said Kit, but he still wanted to know why they looked so young. Were Changed having pups now?
“Yeah, that’s the good part,” Ursa agreed. “The bad part is they say there’s more.”
“How many more?” Kit asked.
“Haru,” Ursa addressed a dark-furred cat-girl, “how many would you say you met?”
Haru’s voice carried more confidence than Kit would have expected from her slender frame and calm eyes.
“A dozen, maybe half again,” Haru said. Kit could hear the purr in her voice. She must be liking the high, open air. “Not everyone really believes you’re here. Some are just too scared of the open road, with all the scavengers roaming about.”
“I don’t blame them,” said Kit. “I had to kill one today.”
He fixed the kids with hard eyes, assessing them. Haru was unperturbed by his claim, but the monkeys and the dog looked worried.
“So there’s more inbound, most likely,” said Ursa. “Which means we got to take another look at security, rations, chores.”
“Alright,” said Kit. “It’s been a while since we had to make adjustments, but nothing we can’t handle.”
“There’s a little more,” Ursa said. He wore a shallow frown, bear jowls drooping. “Tell him how old you are.”
Haru’s eyes flicked from the bear to the fox, as if she didn’t understand why they’d care. Kit inclined his head toward her to express his interest.
“It’s been a year since we Changed,” Haru said. Kit’s eyes darted to Ursa, who shrugged.
“You’re sure?” Kit asked, hopping to the hard ground to come closer. He sensed no lie in her voice, but if anyone could hide a lie it’d be a cat.
“Absolutely,” said Haru, holding his gaze loosely. “I’ve been counting the full moons.
Kit shot a look back at Ursa but asked the cat-girl, “Was there another meltdown somewhere? How did it happen?”
“What meltdown?” Haru asked in honest confusion. “We just… Changed one day.” She closed her wide blue eyes. “I can’t remember the Before. It’s all a haze and warm sunlight. But I remember the day I woke up.”
The others were nodding now.
“Me too,” said the dog-boy, voice timid. Kit noticed a long scar on his left flank. “My owners had been gone for days. I remember wanting them to come home, but that’s all. Then, everything became clear. Smells meant more, I knew what loneliness was, and I realized they were never coming back. They were just gone, or maybe dead.”
He looked at his paw-like hands as if still getting used to the idea.
“I realized I could take my chain off and get some food!”
His tone was earnest but the others laughed knowingly.
Kit remembered too. As a wild fox he’d been more independent than any pet. Maybe that was why he’d remembered more of the Before, as Haru called it, than some of the others he’d met. But the day his Change began brought a whole new level of reality. A deep knowledge of his existence, and his power.
“So something else is making them Change,” said Ursa.
“Which means this won’t stop with a few dozen cubs,” Kit mused.
“It may never stop,” said Ursa.
This was both blessing and curse, Kit realized. More of the Changed, and they might one day cease being such a tiny minority. AERL would grow more powerful by the year. But with every new body came another mouth to feed. Predators shacking up with prey. Who could say if everyone would be able to control their animal side as well as Kit’s people had done so far?
Then, if every animal on the planet was changed, what? Humans after fresh meat would hunt the Changed, sapient or not. As if the situation between their species wasn’t bad enough already.
Kit needed to talk to the other founders, soon.
“Alright, well, no need to worry now,” Kit said, putting on a smile.
It seemed to put the kids at ease, even the dog-boy. Kit fixed his eyes on Ursa’s.
“Finish settling them in. I guess you’re telling them the rules?” Ursa nodded. “Good. Then meet me at Command. I’ll grab the others.”
“You got it, boss,” Ursa said. He grinned at the newbies and launched back into his lecture. “Rule number twenty-two, never, ever touch the rations labeled ‘bear’, unless you want to find yourself on the shelf.”
He laughed, and the kids laughed nervously with him.
Kit left Northridge calmly, but once out of sight moved at a trot. Back in camp, he saw Yuku alighting on the roof of their sheet-metal Command hut. She looked about to take off.
“Wait,” Kit called to her. She turned and flitted to the ground.
“You take care of those no good poachers?” she asked.
“Duly scared out of their minds,” Kit nodded. “One casualty, but it couldn’t be helped.”
“Well, maybe they’ll steer clear. What’s up, Kit?”
“We need to have a meeting,” he said, and gestured into Command.
***
It took all of a half hour to gather up the AERL’s founding members - Kit, Fuku, Ursa, the salamander Anki, and the deer-woman Sika. They were an odd, mismatched group, but their shared experience with the Change and dedication to the safety of their animal kin had grown them into a tight-knit, formidable team.
“So what do we do?” Kit asked after he and Ursa explained what they’d learned.
“Supplies,” said Sika. One might think from her darting eyes that she was flighty, but Kit had found that she was a masterful tactician. “That has to be number one. We can’t be caught off guard running low on rations or medicine.”
“Agreed,” said Ursa and Anki as one.
“But how?” asked Fuku, wings flapping in gesture. “We barely gather enough just from scavenging and foraging. Stores won’t sell to us, and if we go stealing, we make things worse.”
“Might not have a choice,” said Ursa, chin resting thoughtfully on one paw. “We go after gangs first, poachers, haters. Maybe the other humans won’t care.”
“They’ll care,” said Kit. If he’d learned one thing in the years since Shinigami, it was that the only ones the Changed could count on for solidarity were themselves. “No, we don’t go around robbing and looting unless there’s no other choice.”
“What then?” asked Sika.
Kit wouldn’t have expected her to be in favor of crime, but he heard approval in her tone.
“We’ll have to be a bit more cunning. Make deals in secret, even if it’s with humans we don’t like,” said Kit.
“You know some?” asked Anki, tongue flicking as he spoke.
“I have some old connections, yes,” said Kit.
Which ones he was willing to use was a debate he’d have to have alone. He realized he was frowning and composed himself.
“I’ll look into it, see how much trouble we can avoid,” Kit said. “Meanwhile, let’s step up scavenging and salvaging runs. Put those new kids right to work, but never by themselves. Best I can tell, Matsumoto’s pretty much abandoned now. If we do some night runs, we can probably clean out a lot of places before the humans do.”
“And then?” asked Sika.
“Then we move on to the next location. I’ll be gone a few days most likely,” said Kit. “Keep patrols going, expand the scouting range. Just watch yourselves - there’ll be more poachers like the ones I fought today.”
Sika had crossed her arms and was shaking her long head. “It won’t be enough.”
“We’re gonna make it,” Kit assured her. “Fate is on our side.”
Four pairs of dark eyes stared back at him. They were all equals as far as Kit was concerned, but he couldn’t deny that he’d always been the most sure-footed, the most determined. They all looked up to him, counted on him. They’d do what he commanded, if he chose to command.
“And if my plan doesn’t pan out,” Kit continued, “we’ll try something else. There’s still time.”
Sika watched him for a long time, not disbelieving his words, he could tell, but assessing her own patience with an unknown plan.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll get the maps and make some adjustments. Daylight hours will be tight, but we can make it work.”
“I’ve every confidence in you, Sika,” Kit grinned. She rewarded this with a little smirk and twinkle in the eye. “Let’s get to it!” Kit smacked the tabletop and spun to leave Command, sucking in a deep breath.
He really did not want to go to Tokyo, but it was looking like the only path.
***
Tokyo was beautiful in its own strange way. Cleaner than the wild, yet dirtier. Brighter than the stars, which Kit’s Changed eyes found both addictive and confusing. All the people moved about in patterns they no doubt thought were according to freewill, but Kit knew were governed by the ecosystem of their steel and glass jungle.
He had dug out his footlocker a stylish, chrome visored helmet just large enough to accommodate his snout. He’d used it in a previous life to move freely through the city. There were enough people in weird masks and helmets and other accessories that, at least on the street, he didn’t look out of place. He didn’t bother hiding his tail - it was still trendy in certain districts for humans to graft on synthetic animal parts such as tails, ears, and teeth. If anything his real tail would garner him more compliments than suspicion.
There were several old contacts he could try to reach. At the bottom of his list was the one man he least wanted to work with.
Kit spent his first day in Tokyo searching out his preferred contacts, scouting their old stomping grounds and using old code words to get up to date on street news. Each gang’s soldiers were more uptight than Kit remembered, but the fox-man’s easy voice and dangerous stature worked together to get him the info he needed.
His first pick, Slash, had been head of a gang he called the Slashers, which Kit always thought was cheesy. Despite their name, they committed very little violent crime. Instead they primarily ran a racket of slashing people’s tires, leaving anti-vehicle flyers on their cars, then charging above market rates for new tires in the shops they owned. Kit had to laugh at the cheekiness of it, and the fact that it worked at all.
But he was dismayed to find that Slash had been arrested, then shanked in prison. It was too bad really - the guy always had a great sense of humor.
The second gang leader on Kit’s list was missing entirely, with no clues as to his whereabouts, and the third had become too big for his britches. Kit’s questions about the man had just landed him in a fight, the street solider demanding, “Who wants to know about the boss, huh?”
His list had been reduced in short order, and Kit was finding it hard to keep his spirits up. Two to go, one he’d rather not even think about.
Maki Mei had been a teen model but moved into organized crime after her face was scarred by a stalker. Kit always thought she was just as pretty, at least for a human. The looks and her natural charisma took her to the top of her organization in no time. Kit had done a few jobs for her back in the day, despite her rude demeanor, and he hoped she was still into black market meds.
But as Kit hunkered down across the street from Maki’s old headquarters, pretending to be tranked out on Dimmer and watching for signs of her presence, he saw a familiar face drift into view.
Takeo. Tall, slim but solid, his hair spiked up and ears studded with gold.
There was no way Takeo should be anywhere near Maki’s base - they hated each other - but here he was, stepping out of a flat black supercar and approaching the door to the building like he owned the place.
He glanced in Kit’s direction, did a double-take. Kit tensed, forgetting the helmet on his face and thinking Takeo had recognized him.
Takeo slapped the hood of the supercar and yelled to someone inside.
“Get that tranker outta here, Screech! We don’t need that kinda scum stinkin’ up the block.”
Kit heard a mumble from within, and a very large, mohawked man exited the driver’s side of the car, began to approach him.
Kit got to his feet. Make contact? Or run?
If he fought this guy, it would just make things worse. But Takeo was almost at the building’s entrance. If he went inside, Kit might not be able to access him for hours more, and he couldn’t just loiter here all day. The cops would pick him up eventually. He made a split decision and yanked the chrome helmet off his head.
“Takeo!” he called.
Takeo’s huge bodyguard skidded to a stop, jaw dropping. Then his face set like stone and he strode faster toward Kit with a comical frown.
Takeo had turned, looking puzzled.
“No freakin’ way…” he breathed. “Look who’s come back home. It’s the Uncaged Reaper… Screech, get back in the car. I’ll handle this.”
“Hello, Takeo,” said Kit lowly. “Long time no see.”