Chapter Thirteen:

"Morning Preparations"

John ran his hand across the fresh clothes laid out on the bed, appreciating the craftsmanship that somehow merged elegance with practicality. His newly acquired armor sat heavily on his shoulders, each piece a reminder of the morning's revelations in the Hall of Whispers.

"Do you mind?" He made a spinning motion with his finger toward RW, who perched on the desk like she owned it.

"Honestly?" RW's tail swished with amusement. "I'm a mechanical fox construct who's cataloged the birth and death of stars, witnessed the rise and fall of empires, and documented phenomena that would melt your brain. But you're worried about me watching you change?" She paused, her voice lilting higher. "Though I suppose there was that one time in the celestial realm when—"

"RW."

"Fine, fine." She turned around, though her voice still carried barely contained laughter. "Though I maintain this is ridiculous. I mean, technically speaking, I don't even have—"

"Not helping."

As John began removing his armor piece by piece, RW's tone shifted to something more thoughtful. "Harbor Pointe and Oblivion Prime," RW said gently. "You've been trying to hold onto them."

John's hands stilled on the armor's straps. "Yeah. When I reach for those memories, they just..." He trailed off suddenly, his body tensing as new images crashed through his mind – explosions tearing across a night sky, screams echoing across a battlefield that stretched beyond horizon's edge, the thunder of weapons that made reality tremble.

"John?" RW's voice sharpened with concern, her previous playfulness gone. "What is it?"

"I just saw... a war." His voice came out rough. "But not Harbor Pointe, not Oblivion Prime. Something different. Something..." He moved toward the bathroom, where steam rose from what appeared to be a natural hot spring somehow contained within the room's confines. "The scale of it... it was like watching a world die."

"John?" RW's concern was evident even without turning around.

"I saw... a war. But not like anything from Harbor Pointe or Oblivion Prime. Something different. Something worse." He moved toward the bathroom, where steam rose from what appeared to be a natural hot spring somehow contained within the room's confines. "The scale of it... it was like watching a world die."

"Fascinating," RW said, then quickly added as she sensed his tension, "but perhaps a topic for another time." She paused before continuing with renewed enthusiasm. "You know who seemed quite interested in your thoughts earlier? Yumi. Her tails practically danced every time you spoke. She's very pretty, isn't she?"

John stepped into the shower, grateful for the hot water's distraction. "Really? We're doing this now?"

"When better? Those whiskers of hers? The way they twitched when you stared at them? Absolutely adorable. And don't think I missed how your breathing changed when—"

"You can't actually monitor my breathing."

"Can't I?" RW's voice dripped with mischief. "I'm a very sophisticated piece of technology, I'll have you know. I could probably tell you exactly how many times her tails brushed against you 'accidentally' during our walk here."

"They weren't—" John caught himself. "You're impossible."

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

"Improbable, perhaps. Impossible is such a limiting concept. Speaking of impossible, have you noticed how her eyes seem to catch the light in just the right way when—"

"Are you going to be like this all morning?"

"All morning? Please. I have enough material to last at least a week. Did you know kitsune courtship rituals traditionally involve—"

"If you finish that sentence, I'm finding a way to mute you."

"You wouldn't dare. You'd miss my insightful commentary far too much."

After the shower, John dressed in the provided clothes – a comfortable tunic and pants that seemed to adjust perfectly to his form. As he headed for the door, RW hopped down from her perch, each step leaving tiny wisps of light that faded moments after touching the floor.

"Ready for what's sure to be an absolutely fascinating breakfast?" she chirped. "I wonder what a traditional kitsune breakfast entails. Not that I've been studying their customs or anything. Though now that you mention it—"

"I didn't mention anything."

"Details, details. I heard some of the younger kitsune talking about dishes that literally glow. Sure beats your usual eggs and bacon, doesn't it?"

John opened the door, trying and failing to suppress a smile. Whatever the morning might bring, at least it wouldn't be boring.

RW's voice followed him into the hallway: "You know, I've been thinking about kitsune mating habits—"

"RW!"

"What? It's purely academic interest. Mostly. Probably."

The Sleeping Fox's common room glowed with early morning light, the scent of grilled fish and steamed rice mingling with sweeter aromas that made John's stomach growl. Mistress Tsubaki's three tails swayed as she directed her staff, each movement precise and graceful. The breakfast spread covered several low tables - grilled mackerel that gleamed silver and gold, rolled omelets studded with herbs, steaming bowls of miso soup, and dishes John didn't recognize that seemed to shimmer with their own inner light.

"The glowing ones are kitsune specialties," RW explained, noticing his stare. "Though I should mention that foxfire-infused cuisine can have some interesting effects on the uninitiated digestive system."

"You couldn't have mentioned that before I started drooling?"

Yumi was already seated at one of the tables, her twin tails curled neatly behind her. She brightened when she saw John, then quickly looked down at her tea, her whiskers twitching slightly. Rai sat across from her, silver eyes scanning the room with habitual awareness even as she reached for her soup bowl. Akira had chosen a spot that gave him clear view of both exits, his katana resting within easy reach.

"Are you going to hover in the doorway all morning?" Rai asked, gesturing to the empty cushion beside Yumi. "The fish is getting cold."

John settled onto the cushion, painfully aware of Yumi's tail brushing against his leg as he sat. RW curled up nearby, looking far too pleased with herself.

"So," Yumi said, her voice carrying playfulness as she pushed a dish toward John. "Have you ever had traditional kitsune breakfast before?"

"Can't say I have," John admitted, eyeing what appeared to be rice topped with something that emitted a soft golden glow. "Though I'm guessing it's a bit different from my usual eggs and bacon."

"The foxfire-glazed salmon is particularly good," Yumi offered. "It suppose to sharpen mental clarity. Though my analysis does say that sometimes it makes humans see sparkles for an hour or two. Nothing serious."

"Now you tell me," Rai muttered, squinting at her own half-eaten portion.

"The sparkles are actually a fascinating side effect," RW chimed in, though only John could understand her. "They're caused by the temporary resonance between human perception and foxfire energy. Though I suppose that's not particularly helpful information while you're experiencing it."

Rai set down her chopsticks. "Should we discuss what we learned about Roland and the others?"

"You mean about how the last group of Players turned out?" John reached for what he hoped was regular, non-glowing fish. "Yeah, that's not ominous at all."

Akira spoke for the first time, his voice carrying the weight of careful consideration. "History doesn't have to repeat itself."

"No," Yumi agreed, her tails swaying thoughtfully. "But we should probably understand it better. There must be more records somewhere."

"The archives," Rai nodded. "Elder Takashi mentioned they'd be open to us."

"After breakfast," John said firmly, catching the way Yumi's whiskers twitched with amusement. "Some of us are still trying to figure out how to use chopsticks without embarrassing ourselves."

"Here." Yumi's hand covered his, adjusting his grip on the utensils. Her touch lingered perhaps a moment longer than necessary. "Like this."

RW made a sound suspiciously like a snicker.

"The barrier is failing," Akira said suddenly, his hand tightening on his teacup. "That seems more urgent than old stories."

"The stories might tell us why it's failing," Rai countered. "Knowledge is power, especially here."

"Speaking of power," Yumi gestured toward one of the glowing dishes. "You should try the kitsune udon. It's not actually glowing - that's just steam catching the morning light."

John gave her a suspicious look. "You sure about that?"

Her whiskers twitched again. "Mostly sure."

The breakfast continued, conversation flowing between serious discussion of their situation and lighter moments. John found himself relaxing despite the strangeness of it all. Even Akira seemed to unbend slightly, accepting a second helping of rice when Yumi insisted.

RW provided running commentary that only John could hear, ranging from detailed analysis of kitsune cuisine to increasingly unsubtle observations about how often Yumi's tails found excuses to brush against him.

The peaceful moment shattered as the tavern's door burst open. A young kitsune scout stood in the entrance, her single tail bristling with urgency.

"The Elders," she announced, slightly out of breath. "They've been in council all morning about your arrival. They want to see you. All of you. Now."

John looked down at his half-finished breakfast, then at his companions. Rai was already standing, her war fan finding its way to her belt. Akira's hand had never really left his katana's hilt. Yumi's tails swayed with nervous energy as she rose.

"Well," John sighed, pushing himself up. "So much for figuring out how these chopsticks work."

"Don't worry," Yumi said softly as they headed for the door. "We'll work on that later."

RW's voice carried entirely too much satisfaction: "I'm sure you will."