Chapter 19

  At the lioness’s words, the wolf and the bovine girl snapped to attention. Their eyes went wide, and in the next breath they dropped into bows as well. The bovine trembled so hard her legs gave out, and she collapsed in supplication.

  Ben’s eyebrows curled inward. “What’s going on here?”

  The lioness lifted her head, voice softer now, almost reverent. “You. You are the Minotaur… are you not? The one from the heart of the Labyrinth? The First of all Beast-kin?”

  Ben’s mouth fell open. He had never heard that title before. “Uhhh…” was all he managed.

  Then a sphere of water floated over, stopped directly above the heads of the three bowed figures—and burst, drenching them.

  “Fuku!” Ben roared, though it was half-hearted, and a chuckle slipped out at the spluttering trio.

  “That’ll teach them to call me a pet!” Fuku’s voice chirped from the end of the hedge.

  The three Beast-kin shook themselves, water spraying from their fur, before once again taking in the scene before them. A hint of indignation flickered in their expressions, but it quickly vanished as Ben’s presence dominated their vision.

  The lioness, regaining her composure the quickest, spoke first. “I apologize again, Sir Minotaur. We did not understand.”

  The wolf added, his ears low and tail tucked. “It was my fault for misjudging your friend. Please, spare my captain any punishment. I take the blame and full responsibility.” His bow tipped his head even lower than before.

  The timid bovine girl peeked out from behind them. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize you. I was the one who called the guard this morning. This is all my fault.”

  Fuku reappeared, planting himself in front of Ben as though to shield him. Sitting on his sack, he glared at the three before spinning in a circle and fixing his incredulous gaze on Ben. “Sir Minotaur? …Sir Minotaur?”

  Ben only shrugged. “The First Beast-kin, apparently.”

  Fuku’s ears twitched, his brows scrunched. Then, slowly, he nodded. “Oh… yeah. I can see that. It kind of makes sense.” He puffed up his sack until he rose level with Ben’s waist, then spun to address the three. “So, you guys worship him or something?”

  The Beast-kin exchanged glances, but Rakxa, the lioness captain, answered. Her words carried the rhythm of something oft-repeated:

  “Mighty Minotaur, first of Beast-kin,

  The Labyrinth of trials he was bound within.

  For men beheld and feared his might,

  So cast him down in endless night.

  Yet chains shall break and walls shall fall,

  Beneath his hooves the earth shall call.

  Then all of beast, both far and near,

  Shall gather strong, and bring men fear.

  Under his horns we all shall band,

  To build a home and claim our land.”

  Rakxa’s voice softened, almost reverent. “That is the prophecy we have heard since childhood—the story of… you.”

  Silence fell over all as the words settled into Ben’s mind.

  But then Fuku tipped backward onto Ben’s stomach—and began howling with laughter. “Have… have you ever heard anything so ridiculous?”

  Ben didn’t laugh. He had heard prophecies before and had found them lacking. What unsettled him was the idea that he was meant to be some kind of unifier, a leader. He wanted no part of that.

  “Fuku, don’t be rude,” Ben chided his companion. “We do not know their tales or customs, nor what they have been brought up to believe.”

  “Yeah… but you? A Beast-kin god?” Fuku chortled.

  “Do not make fun of the Minotaur and his destiny!” the wolf snarled.

  Rakxa’s paw flew to the side, a clear gesture keeping the wolf from continuing. “Ralf, do not irk the Minotaur's companion.”

  “Yeah, Ralf… don’t irk me,” Fuku said sardonically.

  “Please, everyone,” Ben interjected, his deep voice calming the space between them. “Let’s sit and talk this through. There are misunderstandings on both sides, and none began our day on the right hoof. Let’s start from the beginning.”

  “First off,” Fuku said before anyone could respond, “you, little cow-girl, go get a blanket or something so that Ben can cover up. I don’t like the way everyone keeps trying to see what’s behind me.”

  That brought a snort from Ben. “That’s why you’re standing there like that?”

  Rakxa and Ralf both had the decency to look away, embarrassed, and the bovine girl ran off, her blush obvious even through her lighter-colored hide.

  ***

  Once the bovine girl returned, Fuku helped wrap Ben in the mostly white blanket she had brought. He tied it in a loose knot, though Ben still held the cloth in front of him, letting it trail behind.

  Then they all walked into the town proper, led by Rakxa.

  As they walked through the entrance, the crowds began to build. This wasn’t a large city, a fair-sized town at best, but it looked like everyone here had already heard the news and risen, hoping to glimpse the infamous Minotaur.

  Fuku watched as Ben walked forward sheepishly, the whitish blanket wrapped around his waist, dragging behind and leaving a clean trail by sweeping the dirt from the cobblestones of the main street.

  Fuku couldn't ignore the way the other Beast-kin looked upon Ben with a profound sense of wonder and hope. The trailing cloth reminded Fuku of stories from this land’s history—of deities who once walked among mortals in the same fashion.

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  'He certainly has the body for it,' Fuku thought, recalling the statues of old gods and seeing the resemblance.

  The realization disturbed him. These people looked on Ben with wonder, with hope. Fuku felt a pang of jealousy at their adoration towards him—and an even more disturbing thought: ‘what if Ben likes all this attention, and chooses to stay and try to fulfill that silly prophecy?’

  That would be difficult, it would mean he had to stay as well. ‘No way. I am not losing my Ben now.’

  He bounced slower, trailing behind, letting Ben have his moment. The bovine girl who had fetched the blanket walked beside him.

  “My name is Fuku,” he said. “And I’m sorry for splashing you… I guess. What’s your name?”

  “My name’s Duria,” she said, her gaze never leaving Ben.

  “Duria. Good name. So, where did your village come up with… no, where did you all learn about the Minotaur’s return? Was it some prophecy, or an oracle or something?” Fuku asked, trying to be nonchalant but having difficulty after all that had happened that morning.

  His fur was still damp.

  “Where?” she said, finally turning to him. She had petite horns and wore a light green dress with white stitching that was complementary to her blondish fur. “It’s something that’s been passed down for generations, I don’t know where it came from exactly. Maybe the elder would know?”

  “Ah, yes. The elder,” Fuku replied, trying as hard as he could to keep the sarcasm from slipping through. “And I suppose I should look for the oldest person here in order to find out who the elder is?”

  Duria just nodded, her attention already back on Ben’s broad back.

  “Ugh…” Fuku sighed and slowed his bouncing.

  When the villagers had all passed, he used Gust to propel himself onto a nearby roof to get a better look at the crowd, find this "elder," and keep a watch on Ben.

  There was what could be called a town square in this village, though its shape was more oval. The street entered from one side and then formed an elongated circle around a fountain at the center. The surrounding buildings were set back, leaving enough room for a wagon to easily pass, with a small, raised walkway in front of the businesses.

  From the outside, even from the air, Fuku hadn't guessed this village was so large and well maintained. It was only now, seeing it up close from the top of a building, that the village's true nature could be seen. He had to admit he was slightly impressed; even in the bigger human cities, the roads and walkways were not set up as nicely, and none he’d visited were nearly as clean.

  The mob of villagers, with Ben at their center, entered the central area. Fuku could see Ben glancing from side to side, talking to the people and nodding, but he also noticed the subtle flinch, the way Ben’s entire body recoiled whenever one of them touched him.

  Ben had only recently been able to suppress that reaction to Fuku's own touch, and it made him feel a little better, knowing that he was the only one Ben didn’t instinctively pull away from.

  Ben walked next to the lioness, Rakxa, who gently nudged the other villagers out of the way. Fuku couldn’t tell where they were leading Ben, but the distance between Rakxa and Ben abruptly lengthened as Ben froze in place, his gaze locked on something directly in front of him.

  Fuku followed his stare but saw only Rakxa and the other villagers. Then he heard it—the faint trickle of water—and a memory stirred, faint and elusive. His gaze fixed on the fountain.

  He squinted, the feeling tickling at the back of his mind, refusing to form. Then it clicked.

  It was almost an exact replica of the one in the Labyrinth.

  Looking back at Ben, Fuku saw the change instantly—his muscles coiled tight, shoulders rigid, ears twitching toward the sound of rushing water.

  “Chikushō!” Fuku hissed.

  A desperate, guttural roar tore through the square—it was Ben’s.

  Fuku’s stomach lurched as he watched his friend’s arm flail, his stance drop low, steam curling from his flaring nostrils.

  ‘He’s losing it… we’re all in danger right now!’

  He hurled himself off the building and triggered Adapt-a-sack. The skill wasn’t only for disguise; it had dozens of uses. Right now, he needed a quick way down—he needed wings.

  The pouch tightened across his back. He reached above his head, grabbed the stretched edges, and leapt, catching the wind. The impromptu glider kept him aloft, slowing his descent as he angled toward Ben—who, with every heartbeat, looked less like “Ben” and more like a dungeon boss about to attack.

  But gliding was too slow.

  Below him, Ben’s fingers slipped from the blanket at his waist. His arms flexed wide, his head tipped back, and his eyes unfocused—Fuku could tell he was seeing the villagers not as people… but as prey.

  Ben had warned him about the curse—that it shoved his consciousness aside and left only instinct and violence behind. Fuku hadn’t witnessed it the first time; he’d slipped back into the corridor and out of sight.

  He saw it now.

  And it was happening right in front of him.

  He used Gust, the burst of air slamming into his tail and propelling him forward.

  Ben’s growl rolled across the plaza—a low, feral sound—nothing like the man he knew. The muscles across Ben’s back and shoulders bunched, swelling unnaturally. His posture shifted, more beast than Minotaur.

  The villagers fell silent. They stared—awed and confused. They began to back away without understanding just how close they were to dying.

  He soared above the heads of the Beast-kin, still lowering, still moving fast, weaving to avoid the taller people and the horned ones until finally he released his sack and landed hard on Ben’s swollen back.

  He flung his arms around Ben’s neck and pressed close, whispering urgently:

  “Ben, it’s me. It’s okay. You’re not the monster. I’m here. Everything’s fine.”

  Fuku could now feel the energy of the Keiyaku tugging at him, its power fighting against the tide of the curse surging through Ben.

  “You’re my sweet Ben. Don’t lose yourself. I’m here for you,” he whispered again, crawling up closer to Ben’s ear.

  He could feel the stares of the villagers, hear their whispers, their confusion about the “little furry thing” and what it was doing climbing on the Minotaur.

  He ignored them, knowing Ben was more important than their whispers. And that if he couldn’t bring Ben back, none of them would be left alive anyway.

  Slowly, Ben turned his head. One large eye fixed on Fuku.

  The amber-brown was nearly gone—replaced with an unnatural, glossy black.

  Ben’s arm rose, reaching for him. Fuku ducked, pressing deeper into the mane-like scruff, claws gripping tight.

  The massive fingers curled around his neck, tightening—

  —but stopped.

  And the darkness in Ben’s eye slowly began to fade.

  The grip loosened. The pressure at the scruff of his neck lessened. The heated pulse of the Keiyaku surged through both of them, swallowing the curse’s influence.

  Then Ben’s hand closed around Fuku again… not to hurt, but to hold.

  Fuku was lifted and pressed against Ben’s chest, the Minotaur’s muzzle lowering to rest between his ears. He felt the spasms in Ben’s chest—sobs breaking free.

  “Fuku,” Ben whispered, voice shaking apart.

  “I’m here, Ben,” Fuku whispered back. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  ***

  The next few minutes were… awkward, to say the least.

  Ben stood holding Fuku tightly in his arms. The blanket had slipped from his waist and pooled at his feet, leaving him exposed once again.

  And while that earned its share of startled stares and even a few whistles, the greater shock was this: the city’s hero and hopeful savior—the Minotaur, the First Beast-kin, the supposed leader of a future revolution—had first looked ready to go feral. His body morphing, his roar shaking the ground, fear stabbing through everyone who heard it.

  But now… he was crying. Full, helpless tears into the small trembling form pressed to his chest. He did not look like a hero. He looked like a frightened child clutching a fluffy doll. The shift was whiplash—his power, his collapse, the raw emotion on display.

  And in that moment, the image the villagers had created—the savior they imagined him to be—shattered.

  Most of the villagers drifted away, whispering of false hopes, dashed dreams, and foolish old myths. Others lingered, murmuring their doubts:

  “What even is that thing he’s holding?”

  “Why would a Beast-kin have such a strange little pet?”

  “Is this really the Minotaur of old, or just a big bull?”

  “How can we follow someone who can’t even keep a pair of pants on?”

  Long moments passed before anyone dared intrude on the sight of the two clinging to each other. Their soft sobs and small, tender motions toward one another made even those still clinging to hope shift awkwardly, shuffling their feet, unsure where to look.

  Finally, one man stepped forward—the very “Elder” the small creature had sought earlier. He cleared his throat.

  “Uh-hmmm…” He coughed once, twice. “Excuse me. I don’t mean to interrupt… whatever is happening here… but could you perhaps explain who you truly are and, well… why you are not wearing pants?”