How they Met

Kuronue studied the old table regretfully. He’d never liked it, but he’d been meaning to sell it one of these days, never one to pass up an opportunity to make some gold. But now, he had no choice. The bat dragged the table into the other room and piled the other scraps on top of it. He’d washed away most of the mud on his rescuee with lukewarm water and an old rag to discover he was a silver fox. The bat had dressed him temporarily in a ragged bathrobe and wrapped him in every blanket he could find.

But his house was freezing without a fire, so Kuronue had set out gathering every flammable object he could spare. The scraps of clothing the fox had been wearing, wet as they were, were on the table, as were a few old picture frames, a wicker chair he never used, some planks of wood left over from some abandoned project or another, all but two of his many rags, all the clothing he never wore, and of course, the table itself. It won’t last very long…if I’m careful I might last ‘till morning without starting on the table. If not, then… He shot a glance at the motionless figure on the couch and sighed. I can only hope this rain will stop, ‘cuz if it doesn’t than he’ll most certainly die of hypothermia and I’ll either freeze or starve to death.

Kuronue got the fire going with some of the rags and rushed to start dinner before it could get the idea of going out. With a saucepan of water heating over the flames he shoved the sofa and its oblivious occupant as close to the fireplace as he could without the risk of it catching fire. Although now that he thought of it, if worst came to worst he could always use the sofa for kindling and put the fox on that futon in the closet…it had a lot of stuffing and would last a few days, probably… He shook the idea out of his head. It was much less drafty on a sofa than it was on the floor, and the fox needed every scrap of warmth he could get. Not to mention the sofa was more comfortable.

Working fast, Kuronue got something along the lines of soup going, noting with dismay that he would soon need more food too if he were cooking for two. He never claimed to a great cook, or even a good one, but it was food and it was edible and most importantly, it was hot. Carefully, he poured some of the broth into a bowl, picked out anything the fox could choke on, and pulled him into an upright position.

His patient coughed and sputtered after the first spoonful, but once the tiny part of him that was conscious enough to recognize food caught up with the fox’s mouth he drank it greedily enough. Kuronue felt ridiculous, cradling this stranger in his arms and spoonfeeding him thin broth, but for once he ignored the voice in his head that was so helpfully informing him that he looked like an idiot. The fox, he noticed, was still shivering. Sighing, Kuronue ate his own dinner, carefully fed the fire, and got up. He shut all the doors to the other rooms, drew the curtains shut, and lit every lamp he had and put them near his comatose patient. He blocked the cracks at the bottom of the doors and windows with sheets twisted up and jammed into them. Satisfied that no draft could possible worm its way in, he returned to the sofa and settled on the floor with a book. Within seconds the room was stifling hot, even without the fire.

He found himself dozing off as the heat alighted on his shoulders, the only noises the crackling of the fire and the hiss of the rain. Kuronue wasn’t stupid enough to let a fire burn with no one awake to watch it, so he dragged himself awake and doused it before falling asleep while in the midst of deciding whether it was worth it to go get into bed.


Kuronue awoke abruptly, drenched in sweat, his throat burning with thirst. His shirt had found its way off and across the room sometime during the night. He got up off the floor and dragged himself across the room to the counter that served as his kitchen, glancing out the window. It was still raining, although it might have been a little less torrential than it had been before. The bat opened his icebox and looked into the bucket that served as his water supply. He groaned. It was empty. He was so thirsty, too… and going outside was out of the option. It was so hot in here, and undoubtedly so cold out there that the shock to his system would knock a few centuries off his life if it didn’t kill him right then. But he needed water to make breakfast, and he could just stick the bucket outside for a moment or two and let the rain do his work for him.

With fresh water taken care of, he built another fire and made porridge, which was the only breakfast food he could think of that was fluid enough for the fox to eat. It was so hot over the fire that his vision was blurring and it was a relief to take the pan off and turn away. He checked his patient as he filled a bowl. He’d stopped shivering, at least, and a tiny drop of color had returned to his cheeks. They were still pale, but no longer deathly so.

He was halfway through the bowl when the fox suddenly woke, his eyes opening a bit and squinting against the harsh light. Kuronue had frozen, spoon hovering in front of the fox’s face. Consciousness returned sluggishly to the fox, but Kuronue saw the sudden look of panic and held him still, his own momentary shock gone.

“Don’t worry,” he muttered, trying his best to sound reassuring and feeling like a fool. “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.” The fox growled, as naturally distrustful as Kuronue, and tried to shake his arms free of the blankets swaddling him. Kuronue felt his patience fading, as his patient struggled for a long time before finally giving up. He reined in his irritation and said, “I know you don’t like feeling so restrained, but you have a pretty severe case of hypothermia and until y—“

“What do you want with me?”

Kuronue blinked. “Nothing.”

The fox growled again. “Then why save me?”

Kuronue shrugged, starting to get annoyed again. “I was bored, I suppose. And I’m not callous enough to walk away and let you freeze to death.”

The fox huffed in disbelief. “Sure,” he muttered, loud enough for Kuronue to hear. “And once I’m well you’re going to want me to… repay you somehow.” He raised his angry golden eyes to Kuronue’s face, a sneer dancing in them.

Kuronue had a very limited supply of patience. Much of it had been used up because it was so hot. More had been drained by trying to convince himself he didn’t look stupid handfeeding a fully-grown fox demon he didn’t know. The suggestion in the fox’s eyes drained the rest of it. “It would be so easy to just chuck you back into the rain to let you die, fox,” he snapped. “And I will if you don’t stop being such a damn suspicious brat towards the person who saved your life!”

The fox blinked, trying to shake off the attack. He sighed finally, closing his eyes again. “I—you’re right,” he growled. “I’m sorry. I owe you my life and you’ve been nothing but generous and still I accuse you of using me…”

Kuronue smirked. “That’s more like it,” he grumbled. “Apology accepted.”

The fox’s eyes found the bowl of porridge still in Kuronue’s hand. “Hang on…” he said. “Were you…?”

The bat couldn’t prevent the flush. “I—What choice did I have?” he growled. “You were unconscious…”

A grin spread itself across the fox’s face. Kuronue flushed even more. “Well I’m conscious now so I think I can do it myself,” he said and wriggled until the blankets were loose enough for him to free his arms. Kuronue opened his mouth to protest, but the fox beat him to it. “I don’t feel cold anymore so I think the need for me to be wrapped in such a tight cocoon is gone, bat,” he said, picking up the bowl. Kuronue sighed, and went to get his own breakfast. The fox looked up again. “Can I at least know the name of the demon who saved my life?” he asked.

“My name is Kuronue,” he said, and then waited. After a moment he raised an eyebrow. “Well…?”

“Well what?”

Kuronue sighed. “I’ve told you my name,” he said slowly, like he was explaining it to someone who was a few watts short of a lightbulb. “Now you tell me yours.”

The fox hesitated. Do I tell him? I don’t want him to throw me out if he knows who I am, but…on the other hand I may be here a while yet and a false name would get tedious… He sighed. “Yoko.”

Kuronue nodded. “See, there you go, f—er, Yoko,” he said and picked up his spoon. A second later it clattered back into the bowl. “Waitaminute…Yoko!?” He stared at the fox. Of course…fox demon with silver hair and gold eyes… He paled. Wonderful. I’ve got a master thief eating oatmeal on my sofa.

Yoko sighed. “Why does everyone always assume I’m out to get them…?” he asked. “Listen, Kuronue, remember what you said before? About not being so suspicious…?”

Kuronue spoke, after a few indignant false starts. “But—I—that’s different! You had no grounds to not trust me! I have plenty of grounds to not trust you!”

“Fine then. I don’t care whether you trust me or not, just…” It was his turn to—well, not flush. He was still too hypothermic to flush. But he would have.

“Just what?”

“Just…don’t throw me out,” the fox muttered.

Kuronue sighed. “I wasn’t gonna,” he said. He took the empty bowl from Yoko and set it aside. “Now go back to sleep.”

His stomach was full, he was dry and safe and quite comfortable, if not yet warm. Yoko was all too happy to oblige.