Chapter Text
Those stupid kids just wouldn’t give him a break. So what if his horns look like they are just pebbles stuck onto his head when he rolled over them? So what if his kanabō club only had two spokes on it and he’s still as scrawny as an autumn tree? He’s still a kid, couldn’t they see! These things take time to grow!
At least that’s what Kojiro tells himself while he’s listening to those stupid kids snigger behind his back. Everyone says it’s a bad habit but Kojiro knows it’s not a bad habit if it’s an oni you’re making fun of. He also knows that if he wants friends, he should be nice to them even if they aren’t being nice to him—or at least, that’s what his mother says. He’d tried, of course, to feign ignorance, but the kids only took it as a permission to talk louder.
Then again, it isn’t like his parents are paying attention to him right now. They’re both exchanging gossip with the kijimuna who’s talking about some kitsune family they’re suspecting to be in attendance…
Kojiro sneaks a warning glare at the brats, their tanuki tails swaying with abandon, before he whirls at them with a jump and bares his fangs at them, claws out for added effect. In their shock, the two idiots knock into each other before they meet the dirt and scamper off with pitiful yips.
“Kojiro!”
Caught too soon! His parents didn’t even leave him time to bask on his victory. Shoulders jumping, Kojiro turns around like a toy being wound up until he’s facing his mother and his father, both their brows drawn together in the middle. His father’s blue arms are wrapped in front of his great chest while his mother’s red arms form a pair of teapot handles on her sides.
“Kojiro, what did we say about being nice to others?”
“They were picking on me!!” Kojiro insists, his thin voice straining against the injustice as he waves his kanabō club to the absent tanuki. “They were saying that my hair is ugly and I stink just because I’m an oni!”
“Kojiro,” his father says, shuffling closer to him before he crouches to match the level of his glare. “Children will be children. I assure you, it’s not just you they’re picking on. It will be everyone else, too.”
“Then why don’t I see it happening?” Kojiro pouts, squirming in his place. “You told me I should be nice to them but I haven’t even done anything to them and they’re already picking on my horns and my club. And it’s the same thing everywhere I go. It’s like no one likes me because of my looks!”
“Now, now, Kojiro,” his mother sighs, approaching him to draw him in for a hug where he can cling to the tiger pelt wrapped around her waist and bury his face on it. “You know that’s not true. We oni may be quite misunderstood because of our appearances but we are still valuable members of this community. Think about it: would we still be invited to today’s tug of war if we aren’t welcome?” Well, no…they value his parents’ power too much to just ignore them, especially in a contest of strength. So Kojiro shakes his head. “See?”
“But,” Kojiro cranes his head back to look at his mother, “does that mean I have to wait until I’m as old and big as you and Dad before I get friends?”
“I’m sure you don’t have to,” his mother laughs, and his father joins her, musing up his already messy hair fondly. “Shall we look around for a new friend for you?” With a long hum and a finger on her cheek, she searches the vast glade around which they wait for the appointed time. She doesn’t take long before she bends close to Kojiro and directs him to a boy at the other side of the circle. “What about him? You like pretty things, don’t you?” He does—since everyone likes pretty things, it must be something good.
But the boy she points him to, surrounded by three gushing women who are dressed in ostentatious garbs, is…well, Kojiro wouldn’t call him pretty by his standards. His hair…is a nice kind of blue—like the one that fills the skies briefly between the dawn and the sunrise. And he has a proud look on his face as he dances in his red and gold outfit, swinging his arms around while he’s holding the ends of a cape so that it looks like a pair of wings. Its edges are shaped into graceful diamonds, and its patterns resemble symmetrical leaves, also in red and gold threads. They also added glitters and stones to his outfit so that it sparkles every which way he turns.
The boy is pretty, yes, because he has shimmering wings…but also maybe there is too much pretty in it to even still be pretty, in the first place.
“He belongs to the clan of the long-crowing chickens that roused Amaterasu from the cave.” A great thing, judging from his mother’s smile when she asks him, “Why don’t you make friends with him?” Kojiro doesn’t even spend a second to think when he shakes his head. “Come now, Kojiro, I’m sure he would love to be your friend!”
Kojiro is ready to defend his decision, but that soon becomes a moot point. The first gasp that punctures the polite murmur of the glade doubles, triples into louder and higher gasps until everyone is playing the chorus for each other. Kojiro turns to the torii gate that marks the entrance of the forest.
He never would have expected it but he, too, would be gasping soon. There, approaching the middle of the glade with little minced steps, is the most beautiful child he has ever laid his eyes on—with hair as pink as the cherry blossoms at the peak of spring, and as long and soft as a heavenly river, tied up to the middle of a pair of fox ears. Judging by the haori, sewn from white silk and adorned by cherry blossom flowers, Kojiro thinks he could be a boy.
But he’s so beautiful, Kojiro gasps, shuffling closer like a hapless moth drawn to a dangerous flame. Those golden eyes look warily around him as he keeps his pink tail close to him, hugging it like a pillow. “Newly tailed,” is what he hears the crowd whispering to each other. “The first kit in a thousand years,” is something else they toss amongst themselves.
“Pretty…” he utters to the distance between himself and the kit.
Those three women from the garish boy’s side introduce themselves to the fox’s parents, both of them sharing seven tails between them. They’re as enthusiastic as they come but Kojiro has known from the start who it is that they really wanted to talk to.
“And hello there, young one!” one of them gushes at the young kitsune, offering her hand. “May I touch your fluffy, fluffy tail?” The kitsune immediately turns away from her, blocking her path from his tail, and she laughs. No, in fact, everyone laughs.
“Hey, leave him alone!” Kojiro snaps to them but his small voice drowns in the sea of their callous amusement, which later picks up a rowdy tone when it is time to select the teams in the tug of war. His own parents join the cluster of participants meeting in the middle.
Kojiro keeps his eyes on the young kitsune who comes along with his mother when she pulls him to the side, one arm still attached to his tail. His hand tightens around his kanabō club. They may only have two spokes but he can still throw a mean swing!
If anyone tries to pick on the kitsune, they’re dead!
—
The great tug of war lasts for 3 days and 2 nights, and the feast that awaits the players after is just as grand.
Kojiro, though, doesn’t wait for them to return when he sits himself at a corner table and gets started. It’s poor manners, and it’s not him to do it even at home, but this is the only time he has where he can thoroughly enjoy the food without the kids hiding fishbones in his hair, or stealing his kanabō club so they can steal his food and his place. He makes sure he uses his hands and gets the sauce all over his face, too, to dissuade the waiting staff from sending him away.
He makes his escape when he hears the adults coming in, and hides in the trees just long enough to hear of the contest. As always, his parents’ team wins, and it is to them that the honor of drinking the best sake is given.
As the glade slowly fills up, Kojiro sneaks off and makes his way to a shallow river that cuts the forest in two on its way to the sea. Kojiro washes his hands properly there, making sure he gets the parts under his claws, and cleans his face and rinses his mouth with the cool, sweet water. He’ll stay out there until it’s time to go back home to the mountains, moving opposite of the river as he explores the ancient forest. It’s a lonely way of spending the time, but at least no one will pick on him out here.
So when he catches the soft sound of a song near a brook, Kojiro feels like he might have jumped out of his skin in his shock. This has never happened before, he’d always been alone out here!
Then again, unlike all those decades ago, there is a new kit in town—and he’s sitting right there by the stone, brushing his tail as a girl would a doll’s hair. Just like the first time, he’s magnetized by his beauty, a crude piece of iron taking one step closer to his south pole, and one more step and another step—
His foot falls upon a dried piece of wood and it crackles like an intruder. The kitsune gasps and jumps, electrified by his invasion, once again hiding his tail away from his grubby hands—
“I didn’t come for your tail, I swear!” Kojiro declares it to the land, the river and the air around them, voice echoing out in bold ripples as his hands shoot out in a bid for peace…club and all. He realizes that last part too late and throws it away in a panic, its impact upon the rocks marked by another sharp crack in the air.
The kitsune doesn’t let up his golden glare from him…but at least he isn’t moving away.
Kojiro exhales loudly as his hands fall. “Sorry,” he scratches his messy hair, “I was just surprised to see someone else here.”
The kitsune’s ears twitch when he looks around. He looks more relaxed now though he still refuses to release his tail. “Is this your territory?” he asks, looking at Kojiro again. He’s right, he is a boy.
“N, nah, it’s not…that.” How should he put this… “I don’t have friends.” He shrugs, tossing a hand sideways. “So I never stay too long with everyone ‘cause all the kids just pick on me for being an oni. You know,” he points to his head, “horns,” his teeth, “fangs.”
The kitsune nods, fingers moving idly along the fur of his tail.
“Y, you?” An awkward hand swings the kit’s way. “Just getting some fresh air?”
The kitsune shrugs, as well, eyes falling on his tail. Kojiro says he isn’t interested in it, but he does wonder if it is as soft as it looks. “I’ve never been away from home until now, so I don’t have friends here either. My parents told me I would find many of them here…but so far, all everyone wants to do is to touch my ears and my tail.”
“Yeah, the kids are kinda stupid out here…” Kojiro rubs his nape, as though he were embarrassed on behalf of those stupid kids.
The kitsune brings his tail under his cheek, looking at him. “Did you bring any food with you? I’m a little hungry. I haven’t had anything since I left the glade.” Since? Well, Kojiro doesn’t know how long he’s been out here for but that sure sounds like a long time! And more importantly—
“You’re hungry?” Kojiro cries out loud, eyes and voice growing with alarm. How can anyone just willingly go hungry like that?! “You never had anything before you left the glade?”
He doesn’t know what he’s expecting, but the poor kit shakes his head, anyway. Oh this is bad, he shouldn’t have to stay hungry…
“Okay,” Kojiro picks up his club, shaking the broken rocks off it, “just stay where you are. I’ll go and get you some food. Just wait for me, okay?!” Wearing his club on his shoulder, he hurries back to the glade.
The whole place is rambunctious now, the air bursting with hollers and laughter and the likes, until the very air feels like needles in Kojiro’s ears now. He’s on his knees, under the eaves of a stout shrub, when he examines the situation and draws a map for himself, eyes fleeting from one cup of sake to one heaping plate. There are nearly a hundred eyes out here, waiting to find him and to drag him back to his parents—but they’ll have to catch him first. Fortunately, everyone looks like they’re more obsessed about getting drunk or getting an extra pork knuckle to bother much about an oni kid.
As soon as he pins down his marks, he sets to work, collecting platters of udon, pork belly, tofu and sweet rolls filled with mashed azuki beans, the stuff he’d seen on his parents’ table which they share with the adult kitsune. With the club between his armpit, Kojiro makes his careful way out of the glade, balancing the plates on both of his arms.
The young kitsune makes a keening sound of sorts when he applauds his return and grabs the azuki stuff before Kojiro can set down the dishes. His hands are trembling like an old man’s from the effort, but it’s worth it at least. For the first time since they met, the kitsune has set his tail free, and now it’s sweeping left and right in glee.
Kojiro grins at the sight. He’s not only pretty, he’s cute, too.
He takes his place beside him and picks up a piece of pork belly to enjoy. “By the way,” he starts after he swallows; he may be an oni and he may be eating with his hands again, but he knows his manners, thank you very much. “My name’s Kojiro Nanjo. What’s yours?”
The kitsune takes his time to stuff both tofu squares into his mouth, cheeks full of azuki fillings, before he answers, voice muffled by food, “Kaowoo.”
“Kaowoo?” Kojiro cracks up, slapping his knee and tilting backwards, the way he sees his father doing when he finds something hilarious. “Your name is Kaowoo?!”
“It’s ru!” the kitsune spits at him, speckles of tofu flying from his mouth. He may be pretty but his manners sure could use some work. “Ru, ru!! Kaoruuu! You deaf gorilla,” he mutters under his breath.
“Me? A gorilla?” Kojiro laughs again, kicking the ground. “I told you, okay, I’m an oni!”
“And so?” Kaoru scowls, two azuki pastries in his hands held like a sandwich. “You still look like a gorilla. So I’m calling you one.” Having made his decision, he chomps into them. Kojiro laughs again.
He doesn’t know what a gorilla looks like.
—
The time he spent with Kaoru has made that celebration one of the best of Kojiro’s life thus far. Parting was, as the poets called it, such sweet sorrow; Kojiro didnʼt know if they would ever see each other again, or how he might keep in touch with the kit if he didn’t know where he lived. His parents didnʼt know either, only that it is a forest.
So Kojiro determined that he would find out for himself, and set off one day with a sack of his father’s azuki manju on his back. Armed with guts and the spirit of determination, he decided that was enough to see him through this adventure without a map.
It was a good thing, then, when a commotion just around the corner from his house draws his attention to a sparse crowd made up completely of jeering kids, the same ones who have always given him hell simply for existing. Kojiro wishes he could just ignore their childish ways but being a child himself, curiosity isnʼt something heʼd learned to ignore just yet.
Iʼll just take a peek, he reassures himself when he creeps closer to the spectacle, holding tightly to the sack strapped around his shoulders and to his kanabō club. Itʼs probably just a poor animal. Or a roadkill or— The ring of childrenʼs backs open up like a flower.
Kojiro nearly drops all his stuff when he recognizes Kaoru in the midst, small and fearful, his tail held tightly to his chest again. He shines like a white pearl in a bed of muck, and the thought of those kids smearing his pristine haori with the dirt in their hands is something Kojiro realizes he canʼt stand. Heʼs used to that itch in his chest that he gets when heʼs irritated, heʼs used to scratching it with a well-timed threat thatʼs sure to earn him a pinch on the ear.
But this…this is something else. This feeling of something boiling in his stomach like a geyser, its steam creeping dangerously up to his throat…and that heat that builds up in his chest that if he doesnʼt let it out, it might just end up killing him…this isnʼt just being annoyed anymore. Itʼs anger. Itʼs rage in its fullest scale.
“Hey!!” Heʼd never roared so loudly before that it feels like his voice had blasted through the street like a great gust of wind. The kids, at least, take a hint and jump back from the stunned Kaoru, giving him a wide berth.
Kojiro seizes the chance while itʼs there, racing to his side so he can protect him. Dropping the sack to his feet, he spreads his arms out, baring his fangs at Kaoru’s tormentors. “Leave him alone! He wants nothing to do with any of you!!”
“Ha! Thatʼs rich coming from an oni.” One of them cackles and the rest follow. This is exactly the kind of stuff that gets to Kojiro, but while he would have been able to let it slide on a good day, heʼs not about to let them get away so easily after what theyʼve done to Kaoru.
“No, thatʼs rich coming from someone whoʼs not an oni,” Kojiro seethes, sweeping through the tense crowd with a full-blown glare. By the sound of his footsteps, he figures Kaoru has shuffled closer to him. “If I count to three, and youʼre all still here, Iʼm going to hurt each and every one of you. One!”
“Big words, you never even hit us!” Someone barks.
“Two!”
“If you hurt me, Iʼm gonna tell your ugly parents!!” That kid is the first to get it from him.
Kojiro forgets about his motherʼs words of wisdom when he charges at them, a wild roar ripping right out of his mouth, violent and unhinged. Powerful enough that even the collective howls and screeches of the stupid kids barely dampen it as they run away from him and his terrible kanabō club. With a few aimless swings, he sweeps the horrible children away from Kaoru, watching them scramble off to the safety of their parentsʼ skirts before he looks for the others and does the same to them.
One full circuit is all it takes for him to rid Kaoru of his botherers. Kojiro whistles on his way back to the wide-eyed kit, wiping the back of his hand on his damp forehead. Heʼs feeling a little light-headed from all that yelling and his heart is still racing…but that was fun. He would probably catch hell from his parents because of this but that wonʼt be his problem for a while.
“Sorry, I’m late,” he exhales, putting his weight against his club, its spokes digging against the dirt. He’s trying to look cool here. “Are you okay?”
Kaoru nods and pops two slender thumbs up. “Thanks for coming to save me.” His tail sweeps back when he brings his arms behind him, swaying as it once did when Kojiro had brought him something to eat. That means heʼs happy, right? “Were you going somewhere?” Oh. That.
Kojiro hums out a long note as he looks around him for an excuse, remembering the sack of azuki manju he had meant to bring Kaoru when he sees it lying on the dirt. With a jolt of alarm, he snatches it up, “A, actually…I…” And gives it to the kitsune with both his hands. “Wanted to give these to you! Th, they said you lived in the forest…” Kaoru takes the bag from him to look inside. That gasp of recognition comes automatically. “So I was going to go there to look for you…”
A giggle escapes the kit when he brings the sack to his chest, as he would his tail. “Iʼm glad we found each other, then.” Wait…each other?
Kojiro points to his nose. “Did you come here to look for me, too?” Kaoru nods. A shudder of lightning shoots up his skin. He hadnʼt expected this.
“Um—” Kojiro laughs suddenly, heat pooling into his cheeks and his ears. Well, now that theyʼre together…what should they do? He hadnʼt thought that far ahead when he set out to look for him, he just thought that he wanted to see him again…
“D, do you wanna play beigoma with me?” His voice cracks when he offers it.
—
Kaoru has never heard of what beigoma is so Kojiro hurries back home to pick up his set before he leads the kitsune through a small dirt road at the end of the street, leading down into a minor grove.
“Move carefully, okay?” Kojiro warns him.
“Wait!”
A dainty hand falls on his shoulder, sending a pleasant shudder of warmth through him. His hand feels so small and light! Kojiro canʼt believe it. He feels so tempted to look at it, just to reaffirm its shape but also, heʼs worried about losing it if he does show Kaoru his interest. So he doesn’t, and marches on.
At the grove, he spreads out a mat for him and Kaoru to sit on before he reveals his little cider box of beigoma tops, their coin-shaped heads slightly bigger than his sharp thumbnail, etched with different designs.
Kaoru swoons as he inches closer on his knees, looking closely at the copper stuff. “Did you make these yourself?”
“Yup! Here,” Kojiro hands him one of the tops with the design of a fish head, “that oneʼs my latest and my newest favorite. Here, you can play with this!” There is simply no question that Kaoru has to get his best product.
“But I donʼt know how to play.” Kaoru’s hands enclose around his top. Gods above, but they really are so delicate! With such milky white skin that makes Kojiro wonder if heʼs ever been made to put through work, even just to pop a jar or to crack a chestnut open.
“Thatʼs why Iʼll teach you how.” Kojiro grins, picking up another top that is etched with tiger stripes, his old favorite before he made the fish one. “Here, take this cord…and you wrap it around the top like this.”
It takes them a couple of tries before Kaoru can weave the twine securely around his top. Then setting the canvas-lidded drum between them, Kojiro demonstrates the mechanics for him; a lightning flick and his top is spinning in the middle of the fabric. Kaoruʼs sharp ears twitch as he watches—a captivated audience. Kojiro has to bite his lips before the kitsune can catch him grinning like an idiot. But he really is so cute!
Kaoru gives it a try, but his top doesnʼt unravel in time and bounces off the drum before it even has a chance to spin. Heʼs determined to learn the technique, but the frustration is clear on his brows and the fur of his rigid tail.
That sweeping motion comes back when Kaoru finally gets a good spin, applauding his own success with a delighted titter. Kojiro is smiling as he congratulates him but his eyes canʼt stray from his lithe fingers. He knows theyʼre small, but how small are they? Would they get lost in the span of his hand if he ever held them?
“How about a match?” Kojiro wouldnʼt say he had a plan with his proposal, but also, it made no sense to teach the sport to his friend without a proper game. “Three rounds. Whoever spins the longest or knocks the other top off the drum wins.”
“Is there anything at stake?” Kaoru’s tail is swishing faster. Heʼs excited. Kojiro wonders if heʼs used to these kinds of bets, or if itʼs true what everyone says of the kitsune being wily folks. Being a simple oni, he knows it would be best if he stayed away from such games with the kitsune, but…but what if he could get something out of this, too?
“Sure thing!” Kojiro beams, heart rattling with his nerves. Can he do this? “If you win, Iʼll grant one of your wishes. But if I win, youʼll grant my wish.”
Kaoru has this in the bag, if that haughty huff and the sparkle in his gold-plated eyes are anything to go by. That should be Kojiro’s warning to take back his words but heʼs already in this situation, so he might as well see it through. “We kitsune donʼt do such things, little oni.” He really is going to eat his words face first, isnʼt he?
But Kojiro just has to count on the fact that while Kaoru has only learned to spin a top today, he has been honing his skills at home every day of his life. Mostly because no one else wants to play with him but thatʼs besides the point.
“Okay,” Kojiro starts, priming his right hand for the flick as Kaoru does the same, tail tall and focused. “In 3…2…1!”
Their tops orbit each other briefly before they ultimately collide in the middle, until Kojiro’s top bullies Kaoru’s into submission. He takes the first round, then.
For the second round, Kojiroʼs wrist has tensed with his excitement so he flicks the top wrong and sends it spinning off the edge. With a joyful little yip, Kaoru applauds himself.
“I know what Iʼm going to wish from you when I win,” he giggles as they entwine the cords around their tops again. Kojiro has one last chance to fight for his own wish.
Their tops dance parallel to each other when they throw it, and for a minute, it looks like neither will meet or deign to lose steam. Kojiro canʼt look at anything else aside from the drum, heart catching in his throat and blocking his breathing. Please, he prays…to whoever it was appropriate to plead for these things to. Please, please, please donʼt let me lose. Please let me get what I want!
Steadily his top edges to the right side, and Kojiro wants to screw his eyes shut—he canʼt bear to see this—but a tight cry erupts in front of him and he snaps to Kaoru’s top which has fallen onto its side and rolls down the center.
Kojiro canʼt control his voice when he pumps his fists up and howls. Two out of three—heʼs won! He won against the wily kitsune! “Yes, I knew it!” he rejoices, laughing and kicking his feet on the ground. “Iʼm going to have my wish granted! Iʼm going to—”
There is fire in Kaoru’s eyes when he glares at Kojiro.
Apparently, itʼs a warning, but Kojiro gets it too late. Without another word, Kaoru pounces on him and bites his left shoulder like a rabid mutt. Kojiro yelps at the shocking pain and flails, trying to hit Kaoru with his fist to get him off him.
He misses him when the kitsune spins in mid-air and lands on his haunches, glaring like a hostile animal at the boy who was supposed to be his friend.
“What in the world was that for?!” Kojiro demands, grabbing the mat to stymie the blood on his smarting wound. What the hell, he really bit him!!
“You cheated!” Kaoru snaps back, screeching like a rusted wheel. “You loser gorilla, you rigged the entire game so I would lose!!”
“I didnʼt cheat, you sore loser fox, I gave you my best top!” Kojiro roars at him. How dare Kaoru second-guess his good heart!
“That was your worst top, you lying primate!!” Kaoru snatches the fish top from the drum and waves it at Kojiro. “You gave me this because you wanted me to lose!!”
“You lost because you donʼt know how to play the game and you canʼt accept it so youʼre making wild accusations against me!” Kojiro retorts, baring his own fangs at him. “You were the one who wanted a bet in the first place so why donʼt you just…” Kojiro swings his hands to him. “Fox up and own it!!”
A suggestion that Kaoru rejects with a piercing screech as he flies up to his feet, the kind that sends the birds jumping off the treetops, into the air. “You’re a despicable oni!!” he cries at him. “I thought you were my friend but youʼre not, youʼre just like the rest of them!!”
“If you donʼt wanna be my friend, then fine, ‘cause I donʼt wanna be your friend either!!”
“Swindling gorilla!!”
“Rotten mutt!!”
“Kojiro, what the hell is going on down there?!” Itʼs one of the village elders. Kojiro curses under his breath. Thanks to all the ruckus heʼs caused for this ungrateful fox, thereʼs no way heʼll be able to get out of an earful from his parents scot-free!
Worse for him, Kaoru doesnʼt stay long enough to explain his side. Before Kojiro can catch him, he leaps off onto the trees like an animal and disappears into the canopies.
—
Scraped, bruised, weary, hungry, but somehow Kaoru manages to make it home before dark. The entire town bursts with cries of relief when he presents himself to them—leaves and twigs sticking out all over him, his ponytail skewed off-center—but he doesnʼt care. Let them try to admonish him for his unkempt appearance, heʼs not afraid to bite!
His parents must have sensed this when he stepped inside the mansion, because his mother would not even raise her voice at him, cooing instead as if he were still untailed. When she kneels down to dab the sleeve of her kimono on the scratch on his cheek, he scowls at her and pushes her hand away.
“Kaoru, do not treat your mother like your servant!” His father snaps, marching to him from the tea table in the garden. “She was worried sick for you while you were off gallivanting to gods know where!”
“I met up with an oni,” Kaoru spits out, seething at the very memory of his green hair and stupid smile.
“What?!” His father stares at him closely, hands pressed on his knees. “And why would you do that!”
“Because I thought he was my friend but heʼs not!” Kaoru barks out. “Heʼs a lying, cheating gorilla and heʼs just like every other kid who only wants to touch my tail and my ears!!”
“Oh, my dear, did he say that?” His mother gasps, hands flying to her lips.
Kaoru glares at her. “He doesnʼt have to. I know it, I can smell it on him! He thinks he can just make me lose like that and get what he wants?” Fur bristling, he shakes his head. “I wonʼt let that happen. I swear it, Mother and Father, and on our family name and our ancestors, I will never—ever,” he shrieks, “lose to anyone again!!”