The Boy With One Tail
386 Words
The rain had been falling for hours.
The forest behind the village was alive with whispers - leaves shivering, branches groaning under the weight of water, the earth breathing mist. A figure stumbled through the darkness, barefoot and bleeding.
He looked no older then seventeen. His black hair clung to his face, and his golden eyes burned faintly in the dark like lanterns.
Patrick didn’t know where he was.
He only knew the pain - the kind that echoed in his bones, the kind that told him he had once been more than this fragile human shell.
He fell to his knees beside a river, gasping. The water reflected not a boy, but something else - a shadow with nine tails swirling behind him like smoke. But as he reached toward his reflection, the image shattered, and only one faint tail flickered at his back before fading.
“Why… am I still?”he whispered.
A soft bell rang in the distance. Then, footsteps.
A girl in a straw cloak appeared on the riverbank, holding a lantern. Her eyes widened at the sight of him.
“Hey! Are you hurt?”
Patrick tried to speak, but his voice trembled.
“Stay back.”
The lantern light flickered - and for an instant, her expression changed. She saw it. The golden eyes. The faint shimmer of a fox’s aura curling around him.
“Y-you’re not human…” she whispered.
Patrick looked down, trembling. He didn’t want to be.
He didn’t even remember what “human” meant.
Before he can answer, a sharp cry echoed through the forest - men shouting, dogs barking. The sound of spirit hunters.
The girl turned toward the noise, then back to him.
“If they find you, they’ll kill you,” she said, hesitating only a moment before holding out her hand. “Come with me.”
Patrick stared at her hand. The rain poured harder. Somewhere inside, ancient instincts screamed / trust no one, deceive, destroy.
But he ignored them.
He took her hand.
The moment he did, the wind howled through the trees. The river shimmered with faint golden light. And somewhere far away, something woke up - a shrine, buried for centuries, it’s seals cracking open one by one.
The hunters would not rest.
The fox had returned.
- Writer
