Chapter 11

A jolt of alarm gives my bones a bit more solidity. “Dead?”

“A human body is simply too weak to contain a kitsune’s power. A half-breed such as yourself lives on the brink between surviving and being consumed by the magic within.”

Consumed. When I close my eyes, I see maggots of electricity worming inside me. So I came all the way to Japan to get a diagnosis from temple fox, and it’s fatal. Fantastic.

You should not exist.

Tsuyoshi stares into the pool as if it holds the future. “But why now?”

“He has grown beyond the foxfire of a kit.”

I furrow my brow. “Foxfire? Do you mean the white balls of light?”

Shizuka’s smile bares sharp teeth. “One might consider those a manifestation of a kitsune’s magic. There is much to learn.”

I could let myself be insulted, but she’s right.

Shizuka stands, her kimono slithering itself straight around her. She clasps her hands demurely. “Unfortunately, we are out of time, and another visitor awaits me.”

Tsuyoshi climbs to his feet somewhat stiffly and clears his throat. “Thank you. We are most indebted to you and would greatly appreciate any future assistance.”

I unfold from my cross-legged position, wincing at my stiff muscles. Shizuka bows, and Tsuyoshi bows deeper in return. Is that it? We’re leaving? My grandfather glances at me, and I also bow, though perhaps not deeply enough to be polite.

“Excuse me for leaving,” Shizuka murmurs, “and take care.”

Take care? Take care? Maybe I’m losing my mind, but I see a gleam in the myobu’s eyes as she shows us to the greenhouse door.

And people think nogitsune are the evil ones.

I grit my teeth as I step out, determined to show no sign of weakness. You know what, I’m not even sure I believe her nice little theory about my kitsune magic eating away my human body. If half-breeds are so incredibly rare, how does she even know how they died? Maybe kitsune hardly ever have children with humans. Or they make such terrible mothers that their kits die off quickly enough to be forgotten.

Wow, aren’t we bitter?

Are you still a fox? Can you still change?

Did my kitsune mother know I was doomed? Is that why she left me?

I realize I’m walking alone. “Ojīsan?”

I glance back to see Tsuyoshi handing a small envelope to Shizuka with a bow. “A token of our appreciation.”

Shizuka smiles, her face sweet. “Thank you.”

Tsuyoshi returns to me, his expression betraying nothing.

“A token of our appreciation?” I repeat.

“A gift,” he says, “for the restoration of the shrine.”

I glance at the perfectly trimmed shrubbery and spotlessly painted shrine buildings. Doesn’t look like this place needs much restoration, though I doubt Shizuka would turn up her nose at a check—which is vastly superior to the traditional offering of tofu decorated with a red maple leaf. Those twelve-layered kimonos aren’t cheap.

“Well, that was… interesting,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “That’s the first time I heard any of that about kitsune, half-breeds, and foxfire. I’m not sure what to think.”

Tsuyoshi thins his lips. “Do you doubt Shizuka?”

Did I sound that sarcastic?

“I would rather not believe that I’m going to drop dead.”

“This is serious,” he says, his voice cutting. “We need her help.”

“It didn’t seem like she wanted to help.” My throat clenches. “Or could.”

Tsuyoshi marches down the path. “We will see.”

Maybe he has more faith in his “gift” than I do.

Tourists and visitors cluster around the shrine to Inari, chatting, laughing, and posing for photos by the kitsune statues—for luck. If only they knew who walked between them, dragging misfortune behind him like a tangle of dark seaweed pulling him down.

~

We return to the condo at noon, to the sound of laughter in the kitchen—Gwen and Michiko. Gwen is red-faced, her curls tamed into a ponytail, and wearing a too-small apron. Michiko stands beside her, guiding the wicked knife in Gwen’s hand. Chopped veggies sit in neat heaps on the granite counter.

“Tavian!” Gwen says, glancing up.

“Watch your fingers,” Michiko says.

Gwen’s face gets even redder, and she sets down the knife before looking back up at me. “We’re making bento. Aren’t they cute?” She holds out a lacquered lunchbox.

I’m mildly horrified that Gwen is showing such an interest in making adorable pandas out of sticky rice and seaweed, nestled in a forest of broccoli trees. Back home, her idea of cooking encompassed sandwiches and boxed mac and cheese. Japan is definitely corrupting her, making her more girly-girl. Not that it’s a bad thing.

When I don’t smile big enough, Gwen’s eyes narrow. “What happened? What did the myobu tell you?”

Tsuyoshi clears his throat. “It was helpful.”

Michiko looks at her husband, and he nods slightly. She purses her lips. I have no idea what they just communicated.

“Lunch is nearly ready,” Michiko says.

Tsuyoshi and I both wash our hands, then wait at the table. I plaster a hopeful, happy smile on my face for Gwen’s benefit, though I have a suspicion it looks more like the death grin of a cadaver.

Gwen sits beside me. “You okay?” she whispers.

I nod.

Michiko sets bento boxes in front of each of us, then takes her place at the table. I get the cute pandas Gwen made; Tsuyoshi chuckles at the smiley boiled eggs in his bento. We eat in silence. Try as I might, my tongue can’t taste any of the food, but I pretend it’s delicious. What a waste.

Afterward, Gwen drags me to my bedroom.

“All right,” she says, shutting the door halfway. “Tell me.”

I stand by the window, open my mouth, and shut it again. I roll back my shoulders to stretch my spine, then sit cross-legged on the floor. There’s a tiny hole in the bottom of my sock, and I poke at it.

“What do you want to know?” I say in a low voice.

“Everything.”

Well, shit. I have to talk now, don’t I?

My gaze still on the hole in my sock, or the window, or anywhere but Gwen, I give her a recap of what Shizuka told me. Ending with, “So that means I’m really screwed up. Though a temple fox would never put it in such a crude way.”

Gwen says nothing.

I poke at the sock-hole again. “I need new socks,” I mutter.

“Tavian.” Her voice sounds steely. “So they didn’t help you at all?”

I shrug. “Now I know what’s wrong with me.”

I glance sideways at her. She’s working her jaw like she’s grinding words between her teeth. Her eyes glimmer gold.

“We’re going to fix this,” she says.

I laugh an empty laugh. “Got any ideas?”

“I’m thinking.”

This time I laugh a real laugh, but it comes out kind of scratchy. “Gwen.” I climb to my feet and take both of her hands. “Come here.”

She lets me hug her, but her muscles stiffen beneath my touch. “I’m pissed.”

“I can tell.”

“Aren’t you?” She looks into my eyes. “At your kitsune mother? At everything?”

“How can I be pissed when I have happy pandas in my stomach?”

“Tavian,” she says, resting her head on my chest. “Be serious.”

I sigh. “I’m not sure being pissed makes a difference. But I’m not going to just roll over and give up. Hell no.”

“Good,” she says, her voice muffled.

I squeeze her gently, trying to make us both feel better, when all I really feel like doing is running away. She leans back to look at me, then kisses me on the lips. I slide my fingers up her back and into her hair, freeing her curls from her ponytail.

“I’m not leaving you,” I whisper.

She holds me tighter in reply.

As we stand together, our breathing slows to the same rhythm and I feel her heartbeat against my chest.

“I’ve been worrying a lot,” she says. “About you.”

I sit on the edge of my bed and draw Gwen down to sit next to me. Her cheeks look red and splotchy, and I know she’s trying not to cry. I kiss her, softly at first, then harder. The tension in her muscles melts, and she lies back on the bed. I slide my hands into the back pockets of her jeans, my blood burning hotter.

“What are you attempting to do?” she murmurs, half-smiling.

“I’m not attempting to do anything,” I say. “I’m already succeeding.”

She scoffs, but she’s smiling. “You wish.”

I wiggle my eyebrows, over-the-top suggestive, and start kissing up her arm like a deranged Casanova. She laughs.

“That’s more like it,” I say.

“Naughty fox boy,” she whispers, “you know we can’t do anything.”

“Consider it a promise for the future,” I say, and I bend down to kiss her on the lips.