Foxfire (Nine Tails, 1)

by Yuki Edo

  Masaki refocused away from those thoughts. He wasn’t ashamed of his voyeurism—he spied on humans all the time for Inari—but he wanted to see how Hiro would take these revelations. Akira and Hiro continued to talk. Hiro didn’t become angry, but he refused to believe any of the supernatural parts of the story Akira presented to him. Akira showed patience, and before long Hiro said he would consent to the business arrangement with no hesitation if Akira would tell him the truth. Akira sighed, but he didn’t back down. Hiro gazed at the floor a long time, and more than anything, Masaki wanted to touch him, to push his hair away from his face and caress his cheek.

  “Fine. I’ll do it, but only for a month or so. My lease is up in a few days. We’ll go then, but I’ll need time to look for a new place. What kind of hours will I have to work? I have a couple of projects to tie up before I begin anything new.”

  Masaki’s heart pounded so loudly he didn’t hear what Akira said in reply. Hiro was coming. It didn’t matter that the young man didn’t believe yet. He would soon enough.

  * * * *

  Hiro sat in the back of the Rolls Royce Phantom beside his brother, very comfortable, yet at the same time not feeling quite at ease. Sending the fancy, chauffeur-driven car to pick them up seemed over the top to Hiro. Despite feeling that way, he ran his hand over the leather seat again. While he appreciated the special treatment, he imagined Mr. Kitamura had done it to show off.

  He bought your art and obviously wants more. Don’t mess this up. Rich guys like to show off. You can deal. He glanced at Akira, who hadn’t even blinked when the driver had arrived and immediately taken Hiro’s bags and his portfolio and placed them in the trunk. “Where does this guy live? We’ve been driving a long time.”

  “Far outside the city. A private estate.”

  Of course. Hiro looked out the window, though it was already dark and there was little to see. They slowed soon after, turning down a narrow road, and he tried to see where they were. They came to a complete stop about a mile later. When they moved again, the car passed through a large wrought iron gate. The estate seemed to be surrounded by a very tall stone wall, and blue flames adorned the pillars on each side of the gate. Hiro stared, trying to see the source of the colored flames. It had to be gas, but the orb-like flames seemed to hover just above the pillars. He blinked to clear his eyes of the afterimages and sat back.

  Blossoming cherry trees lined the drive, but the rest of the land within sight was open space covered in recently mown grass. Petals of various shades littered the drive and the area surrounding each sakura. More pillars topped by flames dotted the area. They looked eerie somehow, now that he really studied them. The house soon came into view, set back against what looked to be a dark, thick forest. The design was simple, everything made of plain gray stones, but the structure itself was huge and seemed to go on forever in each direction. It had a slanted roof covered in dark shingles, and it reminded Hiro of houses he’d seen in British period dramas.

  Once they’d stopped, Akira let himself out of the car, so Hiro followed. The chauffeur took his luggage and moved to a side door while Akira mounted the many steps that led to the main door, a heavy slab of oak covered in carvings. Hiro didn’t like being parted from his portfolio, but he didn’t say anything. He examined the carvings on the door as Akira reached for a chain and rang the bell. Hiro faintly heard a gong sound inside the house. The door took his breath away, the carvings seeming to tell an intricate story. He saw a tall figure and a nine-tailed fox together, and as the panels progressed, he saw that the fox’s tails had been cut off by the other figure. Nine smaller foxes ran away, scattering.

  This guy likes foxes. Hiro had given Akira’s tale a lot of thought. Why would his brother make up such a weird story? It made no sense. Hiro’s stomach flipped as he looked at the door and then glanced back at the pillars on the lawn. Foxfire could be blue, couldn’t it? He shook the thought away. The setting seemed right for a supernatural event, but gods weren’t real. Neither were kitsune. He took a deep breath as the door opened, telling himself to stop letting his imagination run away with him.

  They walked into the large entryway, but Hiro only made it one step past the threshold. Sitting at the bottom of a large staircase in the candlelit foyer was a giant white fox, which towered above them even in a sitting position. It sat calmly with its bushy tail curled around itself and watched them. Akira kept walking, but Hiro grabbed him.

  “This isn’t funny! What’s going on?” The creature was bigger than a tiger or a bear, bigger than any animal he’d ever seen.

  Akira smiled faintly. “I told you what’s going on, but you didn’t believe me. Now, the proof is before your eyes.”

  “That … that thing looks like it wants dinner, not a painting.” Hiro raised his eyes once more. The fox gazed at him, one ear twitching slightly. That mouth looked big enough to chomp him in half.

  “He won’t harm you. I swear it. He’s our benefactor and protector, and you’re being rude.”

  Hiro kept squeezing his brother’s arm, unable to look away from the fox. Rude? How could anyone act normally after seeing something like the monster Akira tried to pull him toward? It was beautiful, but nothing so large could be anything but terrifying. The fox stood and took two steps forward, and Akira yanked Hiro toward it, the doors behind them slamming shut as soon as he was completely past the threshold.

  “Forgive him, please. I told him everything, but he didn’t believe me.” Akira went down on one knee, jerking on Hiro’s arm and making him do the same. Then Akira bowed his head. “Your tribute, great Masaki.”

  Hiro still stared at the fox, its large black eyes mesmerizing him. The fox bowed its head as well in acknowledgment. Despite himself, Hiro started shaking, and the creature noted this, a sound almost like a whine coming from it.

  And it vanished. Hiro blinked, and in the fox’s place stood a handsome man in an expensive navy blue suit. He had shoulder-length, dark brown hair and piercing brown eyes. He sported a short, well-trimmed beard, which highlighted strong cheekbones. He licked his lips as he stepped forward, and Hiro fought his attraction, just as he always did when he saw any good-looking man. Shame filled him as he imagined what that broad-shouldered body looked like without a suit covering it.

  The man bowed low to Akira and gestured for him to rise. Then he extended his hand to Hiro, who had no choice but to take it. He’d already been rude enough, but he told himself he had good reason. The hand felt human enough, yet Hiro could not forget the giant fox.

  “I frightened you. Please forgive me,” Masaki said. “It’s tradition, something you will soon see is important to everything here.”

  Hiro pulled away as soon as he was on his feet. The man’s hand was too warm, too soft and strong. “I don’t understand.”

  Masaki smiled. “I’m Masaki Kitamura, and everything your brother told you is true. I’m a fox spirit, but I promise to stay in human form if that frightens you.”

  Just thinking about it frightened Hiro. He backed away, his resolve to go through with the arrangement evaporating. “I’ve changed my mind. This is just too weird. Pick something else. We’ll get it for you.” Hiro turned and made for the door, yanking on the knob but finding the door locked. He pulled and pulled, searching for a way to get out. There was no keyhole, no lock of any kind. He rested his head against the wood, his heart racing as panic took over.

  Wake up. Wake up. Wake up! This has to be a dream!

  * * * *

  Masaki watched Hiro, having expected a different reaction. Based on what he’d seen of Hiro and what Akira had told him, Masaki had imagined Hiro either being fascinated by the revelation that gods and spirits truly existed or joking and being skeptical about everything, as if it were all a trick. Masaki had not expected fear.

  Akira touched his arm. “I’ll slip out. He must face this on his own,” he whispered.

  Masaki held him a moment, not sure that was the best course of action. “I didn’t expect him to be scare
d. What do I do?”

  Akira actually smiled at him. “A great being as old as you can surely handle this situation.” He pulled away and bowed before slipping off to a side door.

  Hiro turned around when he heard the door closing. He seemed shocked his brother had left him, his wide eyes searching the room frantically. Masaki cleared his throat and approached, but he stopped a few feet away, as Hiro went still and pressed himself against the door. “Akira left me?” Hiro asked softly.

  “Yes, he did.” Masaki considered how to proceed, his mind focusing on the arousal he’d sensed when Hiro had first seen him, when they’d touched briefly. The young man had no way of knowing Masaki could sense such things, which would work to his advantage.

  Hiro said, “I’ve changed my mind. Don’t you have to honor that?”

  “No one ever said you had to be willing to come here. So long as your brother was willing to give you to me.” Masaki took one more step forward. “Old-fashioned, I know, but you aren’t being offered up as a sacrifice. There’s nothing to fear here.”

  Hiro clenched his hand around the doorknob. “The door’s locked.”

  Masaki willed the door to unlock, and the knob twisted in Hiro’s hand. He yanked it open and went outside, only to find the car disappearing down the drive. Hiro stood there looking at the taillights, and Masaki walked up behind him, breathing in his scent. Lemongrass … and desire. He smiled.

  Hiro seemed to become aware of Masaki standing so close. He turned his head slowly and looked up. “What do you really want?”

  “Your brother loves you. Why would he have agreed to this if he didn’t trust me? Why would he let anyone harm you?” Masaki asked, wanting to touch Hiro but keeping his hands clasped behind his back.

  “It’s all crazy. Absurd.” Hiro looked back at the drive, sighing.

  “To answer your question, as your brother said, you are what I want. The talented young man whose creations touched and moved me.”

  Hiro shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Masaki had watched him long enough to know he did this when he felt uncertain about something. Masaki prompted, “Nothing to say?”

  “I don’t have to be here for you to have all the sketches or paintings you want.” He turned completely to face Masaki, still looking afraid but seeming to have calmed down. “How long must I stay? I told Akira a month, but he just changed the subject, never truly agreeing to that.”

  Masaki wanted to toss Hiro over his shoulder, carry him into the house, and then magically make every exit vanish. But that would never do. He didn’t want to see Hiro afraid ever again. “I swear to the kami I serve that, if you wish to leave thirty days from now, I will let you go.”

  Hiro’s stance relaxed a bit. He glanced inside the house again. “I still … don’t get it.” He shifted his weight once more. “What did you ask for last year?”

  Masaki smiled, trying not to show too much enthusiasm. “An autographed novel by Otsuichi. He’s a favorite of mine.”

  “And this year you asked for a person?” Hiro lifted his gaze to meet Masaki’s. “Bit weird, don’t you think?”

  Masaki felt confusion, anxiety, and a lingering hint of arousal coming from Hiro. “I asked to have you with me. That’s not the same thing. I don’t own you. My kami would never approve of such a request and would’ve stepped in to stop me.”

  Hiro reached out and touched the carvings on the door. “Is this place enchanted?”

  Unable to resist teasing him, Masaki said, “Yes, but no dancing teapots or candlesticks.”

  Hiro let his hand drop, his expression confused.

  Masaki raised one eyebrow. “Beauty and the Beast? An enchanted castle where a terrifying creature holds a beautiful maiden who sacrificed herself for her family?”

  “I know Beauty and the Beast, but I’m not a beautiful maiden.” Hiro walked back into the house and began looking around.

  Masaki flipped the switch to turn on the chandelier, hoping the action might help dispel the eerie effect of the candles lining the walls and adorning the tables. Open flame was traditional for their ceremonies, but the time for theatricality was over. Hiro needed reassurance now. “You’re handsome, though I won’t pry into your sex life just yet.”

  Hiro turned sharply, his color rising. “I just … what I meant … I don’t want to be surprised anymore by supernatural stuff.”

  Masaki bowed his head in apology. “I’m sorry. I like to tease. I’m being a bad host. I thought the humor might make you forget the beast who frightened you.”

  Hiro folded his arms over his chest. “Kitsune are tricksters. Right?”

  “Yes, but I have no reason to deceive you or play games. Don’t worry about that. I’ll try to hold back the teasing, and I’ll answer any questions you have.”

  “Are we alone here?”

  “In a way. The chauffeur comes and goes as I need him. I have yokai servants, but they’re invisible. If you wish to summon them, clap twice. If you wish them to leave you alone, clap three times.”

  “No one else?”

  “Inari comes to see me occasionally.”

  Hiro sucked on his lower lip for a long moment. “How about we see my room? I need to sit.”

  Masaki gestured to the stairs, and they began to walk, but Hiro stumbled after only a few steps. Masaki caught and steadied him, helping him sit on the stairs. He produced a glass of water and offered it to Hiro, who accepted it after a brief hesitation.

  “Tell me what will make you feel more at ease,” Masaki said.

  Hiro sipped the water and eventually said, “Promise no one can come into my room without permission. No one, nothing, not even you.”

  Masaki put his hand to his heart. “I promise.”

  Hiro put the glass on the plush carpet of the stairs and stood shakily. “Let’s go then.” He strode up the stairs with determination, and Masaki could sense that he felt embarrassed by appearing weak in front of someone else.

  Masaki followed closely, worried Hiro might stumble again. They arrived at his room, and Masaki stood beside the door and let Hiro enter. The young man glanced around and then he sank down onto the bed.

  “I’ll have food sent up and left on a tray out here,” Masaki said, pausing and then adding, “if you don’t want to eat with me.” He wanted to talk more, but Hiro seemed to need to be alone.

  “Thanks. Don’t think I can eat though.”

  “I’ll say good night then. Eat it or leave it. The servants will clean it up.” He reached out and hung a silver chain and medallion on the doorknob. “You can summon me by rubbing the charm between your fingers. I’ll leave you alone.”

  Hiro stared at the necklace. “I’m really safe?”

  Masaki looked at him, just this once not hiding his emotions. “As long as I’m near, nothing will ever harm you.” He bowed low and then moved away, the look of surprise on Hiro’s face far too alluring for him to stay.

  Chapter Two

  Hiro woke up tangled in the sheets and pillows. He’d slept fitfully, dreaming of roaming around the strange house in search of something. The room felt cozy despite being spacious, the dark navy of the walls absorbing the light that came in through the windows on the far wall. Thin blue curtains made of a sheer material had been pulled across them. The room had been decorated in dark colors, gray and blue mostly. It seemed much more modern than the hallways, which had a more European style, a sort of early twentieth century look complete with ornate mirrors, tables graced with porcelain figurines, and mounted light fixtures in the forms of electric candles and lanterns. The rest of the house—at least what he’d seen—had reminded him of British period dramas on television, just as the exterior of the house and the wide open spaces outside had. Only the sakura lining the drive made it feel like they were still in Japan. Staying here was going to be so different from living in his apartment in the city, where it was impossible to get away from the crush of people all hours of the day. He picked out something to wear, opening drawers to store h
is clothes. The contemporary furniture was simple, all smooth lines and surfaces, which suited him well. He liked things simple, enjoyed symmetry and clean lines. He’d briefly wondered the night before if the room had been prepared for him. The bed even held the exact brand and type of mattress he preferred to sleep on. He’d actually pulled the fitted sheet up to check after lying down.

  Had the kitsune done all of this for him? The bathroom was perfect, too, with the right kind of showerhead, the same soap he used, and even hunter green towels like his. Hiro shifted and went to relieve himself, hoping his morning boner would go away. But it didn’t. He was alone in a house with a hot guy who, unless Hiro was imagining things, liked him. The guy had actually sniffed him at one point. It had been subtle, but Hiro had heard him take a deep, deliberate breath as he stood close behind Hiro.

  Hiro’s mind wandered back to the Beauty and the Beast reference. Masaki had said he was handsome. Fox spirits were known seducers, even the good ones who served Inari. Hiro swallowed at the thought of running into an actual deity. Out of curiosity, he had read up on Inari and kitsune a bit before coming here. Did the kitsune want to seduce him? Would Hiro just be a notch on his bedpost? Hiro didn’t want to think that, but the other man had proved hard to read. He’d been kind yet still stiff and formal. Perhaps behaving as a human was a challenge for him. He might be used to being in his fox form. Having sex with someone who wasn’t human seemed like a terrible idea. But he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Here, away from everything, no one would know. His family and friends wouldn’t learn he was attracted to men. This house didn’t even have real servants, only spirits.

  Hiro put his clothes on the bathroom counter and then walked to the door. He peeked out and saw a covered tray, different from the one his dinner had been served on, sitting on the floor. He picked it up and brought it inside, finding a plate of cut fruit and two slices of toast along with a sealed bottle of orange juice in a tiny silver bucket of ice. He hadn’t heard a sound, yet the “servants” were obviously seeing to everything. A handwritten note under the plate read, “Just ask if you need anything.”