The monastery clung to the rocky cliff above like a brooding bird of prey. Ryo paused at the curve of the mountain trail, catching his breath in the thin air and looking up at the weathered structure. Three… no, four more switchbacks before he’d reach it. Best to hurry–the narrow path was treacherous enough in the daylight, which was steadily oozing away to twilight, and who knew what sort of dangerous creatures might prowl the mountain at night? He’d grown up with the stories, and occasionally down in the village, one might hear howls or shrieks at night, though whether those came from creatures of flesh or spirit, none could say. He wasn’t keen to encounter either.

Leaning on his crutch, he hobbled as quickly as he could, his useless foot catching on loose stones, making his precarious balance even more so. Thank the ancestors for the sturdy boots master Shin had made for him, allowing his good foot to keep a grip even when he had to steady himself with the crutch.

Up here, flecks of icy snow from higher on the peak rode the pine-scented winds; frigid phantoms of winter. One caught his ear; a line of cold fire across the skin. The fingers of his free hand were growing numb from clutching his thin cloak closed against the biting gusts. An echo of the numbness in his chest.

All of this, because of a girl.

Ryo rounded another corner, chest heaving, sweat beading on his forehead quickly chilled to ice by the wind. The muscles of his calves and thighs groaned with each step. Was it always like this on the mountain, or had it sharpened its claws, just for him? If only he had a hat, or a warmer cloak. Gods, if he was going to be wishing for things, why not a sound body and a large shōen to his name, with servants and ronin at his beck and call? But, no. He’d only had his aging mother to see him off to the remote mountain monastery, carrying no more than a satchel of food and his few meagre possessions.

The final sliver of sun hid its face below the horizon as he hobbled, panting, up to the large wooden door of the structure. Above the doorway, the carved image of some great bird pokémon spread its wings, an ekans clutched in one talon. Below, a large, brass ring hung against the rough wood. Ryo fumbled for it with stiff fingers, managing to lift it a fraction before it slipped from his grasp, striking the door with a hollow thunk.

He waited several long moments, balancing on his good leg and rubbing some warmth back into his hands. The wind moaned like a lost soul, and somewhere from the trees lower down the mountain, a creature of the night called back with a wail. Ryo’s stomach tried to curl up on itself. He reached for the ring again.

Thunk. Thunk. Th-

On the third knock, the door creaked open a hair, exposing a line of shadow. Ryo barely caught himself on his crutch, halting a shameful fall back into the dirt. That dark line widened, hinges protesting, and through the crack, a single indigo eye peered out at him.

“H-hello?” Ryo licked his lips, wishing his voice hadn’t come out so high-pitched. “I’ve come to… to seek asylum. To join the monastery.”

The eye regarded him, swept him up and down.

“Zoro.”

“Excuse me?”

The eye vanished. Three blood-red fingers- no, three claws gripped the edge of the door. A scream tangled in Ryo’s throat.

“Demon!”

The door flew open with a horrendous screech, revealing a shadowy nightmare creature framed now in flickering candlelight from deeper inside. Lithe limbs, dark fur, narrow torso over legs spread in a powerful fighter’s stance, a long bushy… mane? Spiky crimson fur sprouting from the creature’s head and gathered into a tail near its waist by a leather band. Those indigo eyes glittered, fixed on him, while crimson claws flexed and lips drew back over sharp, glittering fangs in a narrow muzzle…

Ryo’s instincts screamed to run, to get away from this strange beast, but his body refused to move. Part exhaustion, part resignation–he could hardly outrun this thing if it chose to chase him, so why fight the inevitable? As his mother said, no sense crying over what you couldn’t change.

“Zoro. Zor.” The thing stared at him, unmoving, not lunging for his throat or slashing with those claws. It was nearly of a height with him, the top of its head a bit under his chin, and on second glance, Ryo noticed crimson markings around its eyes and mouth, matching the colour of its mane and claws. They reminded him of the masks of the Kabuki players he’d once seen during the Sun festival–at once mysterious and compelling.

“Zor?” The creature turned aside, gesturing with its arms, pointing inside the monastery. “Zoroark!” The last sounded distinctly sharp–impatient–a furrow of annoyance creasing the crimson blots around those startling eyes.

“I…” Ryo’s heart finally dropped from his throat enough for him to form words. “You’re a pokémon?”

“Zor.”

“Now I feel like a fool.” He took a step forward, desire to be out of the cold overwhelming fear. Of course it was a pokémon, just one he didn’t recognize. Curse old Shingo’s tales of mountain demons eating the souls of travelers!

“Zoro.”

“No need to affirm what I already know.”

It shrugged, shuffling aside to let him pass, and shutting the door against the wind and the oncoming night.

The darkness within the monastery bled away as Ryo’s eyes adjusted, small paper-screened windows cut out of the wood allowing thin trickles of light, along with a warmer, flickering glow coming from a room beyond the entrance chamber. Lanterns hung unlit on either side of the door–no surprise, given that the monks weren’t likely expecting visitors. Several pairs of sandals rested on a woven mat right of the entrance. Ryo shuffled to it and sat, a weary grunt escaping him, and unlaced his boots, doffing the left, then working the right back and forth to ease his bad foot out of it.

“Zoro.”

The pokémon stood over him, its arms crossed over its chest as it observed his struggle.

“You’ll need to give me a minute here.” The tricky part was turning the boot in such a way as to free his limb, without twisting it too far and sending lightning-bolt agony up his spine from the misaligned bones. Tilt it a bit forward, slide his foot back, then rotate it to the right, maneuver his toes out, and…

“There.” The boot joined its mate, and Ryo stacked them neatly next to the sandals before heaving himself back upright, balancing on his crutch. The wood grain of the floor prickled beneath his toes; cool, but not freezing. He challenged the pokémon’s stare, his jaw clenching. “What is it?”

Its eyes slid down. One pointed ear twitched. Then, it turned, heading for the flickering light and waving for him to follow. “Ark.”

Hopefully, the monks wouldn’t also be so askance. If this was a sect that saw physical deformity as a sign of godly displeasure… He had nowhere else to go! He hobbled after the creature, fingers tight on his crutch. No, come what may, he would persevere; prove himself stronger than those in the village had ever given him credit for!

In the next room–a broad-beamed central chamber with sliding screen doors leading deeper into the monastery on all sides–a man wearing a robe the colour of fresh-turned soil sat in lotus pose upon a woven mat before a fire-pit. A single flaming log painted his wide features with shifting gold and shadow, outlining a squashed nose, cheeks furrowed by laugh lines, and beetle brows.

The pokémon stalked over and crouched next to him, reminding Ryo of how master Shin’s growlithe would sit, guarding her master with all the pride of an imperial samurai. In the firelight, the striking markings on its face became more apparent, their pattern seeming an echo of the dancing flames. As Ryo approached, two pairs of dark eyes examined him through a veil of sparks, the corners of the monk’s wide mouth curving up.

“Welcome, traveller,” he said, voice gravelly as old Shingo’s after a long drag on his pipe, “It has been some time since any sought sanctuary here. What brings a lonely soul up the mountain in the middle of the night?”

“I–” Explanation coiled about his tongue, tangling it into a useless knot. This morning, he’d been Ryo, the weaver’s son, the cobbler’s apprentice, the boy with the club-foot who wouldn’t hurt a fly. He’d not had much, but he’d had a home and at least one person who cared for him. Now? Now he was to be called Fukasho, a pariah, less than human. If any from the village aside from his mother were to see him now, they’d treat him the same as an evil spirit. He opened his mouth again, floundering for where to start, but the monk held up a hand.

“Perhaps, your name, first.”

That, at least, was a simple request. “Ryo, sir.”

“A fine name. I am Kaito, the last of my order.”

Ryo stiffened. The last? Was this a hermitage he had stumbled into?

“Zor.”

“Peace, Akane.” The monk laid a weathered hand on the pokémon’s forearm. “This one means us no harm.” Firelight glistened off his shaven head as he bowed towards Ryo. “Apologies, she is a bit of a suspicious one.”

“Ark!”

“Yes, you are.” His smile widened. “You are welcome here, Ryo, regardless of your circumstances. But, I must know if you intend a brief stay, or a lengthy one.”

Something about his calm manner, his gentle action… The bands of iron constricting Ryo’s chest fell away. “I suppose, lengthy, Kaito-san. Permanent, perhaps.”

“Please, Kaito is fine. We do not stand on titles here.”

Ryo inclined his head, studying the fire.

“Where have you come from, Ryo?”

“Kawanoya, at the foot of the mountain, but none from my village have met any from the monastery. We only know that you live up here.”

Kaito clasped his hands in his lap. “I know of this village, though you are correct that we do not venture there. We have all we need on the mountain.”

How appropriate. Less than a day’s journey from his former home, and he might as well have been in the capital. His old life was sealed away now.

“Your face tells me you did not leave of your own free will.”

A chuckle tore from Ryo’s throat. “Good to know I’m so transparent. Does my face also tell you why, or is this enough?” He lifted his bad foot, smoke curling about the twisted toes.

“There is more to a person than the surface, but the surface often reflects what they hold true.”

“Unless they are being deliberately false.” The wood of his crutch creaked in his grip. That bastard Osamu and his lies…

“And if they show untruth on the surface, does that mean they are false within?” Kaito leaned forward, resting his chin on his palms, the fire’s heat drawing a bead of sweat across his forehead. “Do you suppose that what one sees is merely a mask to be altered at will? Or can one never exceed the obvious, and will always be forced to live in its shadow?” his gaze flicked to Ryo’s foot.
“I… neither, I suppose? I think that any person can be more or less than they appear, and that the face they show the world matters less than the one they show when they think none are watching.”

The samurai’s son could have simply had him beaten for his ‘slight’, but Osamu had never been one to do things by halves, or so directly. How was he to know the ronin also fancied Yasu? There had been no official courtship announced! Hence, Ryo had found himself roused from his home by several of Osamu’s ronin friends, dragged, bewildered, before Nobu-sama in the village square, and demanded to answer for accusations of perversion and deviancy.

All because of a girl.

Kaito sat back, lips parting, smile gleaming in the firelight. “Suppose, then, that one is presented with a falsehood only they can see. Is it better to fight it, or accept it?”

“Fight it, of course!” Protesting that he’d never touched master Shin’s growlithe, let alone lain with the creature, fell upon deaf ears, thanks to the slander of Osamu and his ‘reliable’ friends. Who was Nobu-sama to believe? His son? Or the weaver’s?

“And if all around believe the falsehood to be true?”

“Then fighting what you can’t change is pointless. It’s best to hold to what you know and move on.” Worst of all had been the disappointment in master Shin’s eyes, just before the cobbler turned his face away from his former apprentice’s shame forever. The disgust of the other villagers–even on the pretty lips of Yasu as she watched from the edge of the crowd–hadn’t stabbed nearly so deep.

“Tell me, Ryo, do you know what the One Accord values? Why my order exists?”

“I’m afraid not.”

Kaito gestured to the pokémon, who, throughout their exchange, had crouched more like a statue than a living creature, eyes never leaving Ryo. “What do you think of Akane here? Is she a servant? A pet? A companion?”

“I… don’t know. She seems to handle her own affairs.”

“Zor! Zoroark.” The creature’s fox-like ears twitched, her head bobbing rapidly.

Kaito chuckled, trailing into a cough, which he covered with a robed forearm. When he regained his voice, he said, “Very true. I have never met a spirit as independant as hers, yet she has the strange notion that an old man is worth her time.”

“Zoro!”

“Peace.” A gentle hand on the pokémon’s shoulder. “As you say, she is none of those things. We of the One Accord do not believe one life is of any greater value than another, be they human, pokémon, shogun, farmer, male, female… All are equally precious. This, as I’m sure you understand, is not a popular point of view in our time.”

Ryo tried to imagine Nobu-sama… no, the Emperor, hearing that they were on equal status with their battle rapidash, or, indeed, someone like himself. A smirk tugged at his lips. No, not a popular view at all.

“You said you were the last… what happened to the others?”

“Ah…” a frown marred Kaito’s features. “A great sorrow, two winters past. Death paid us a visit in the form of creeping illness, one that none of our herbs would stave off.” His chest heaved with a cough, bearing a nasty rattle. Had that been present before? “Yet, when he saw fit to end his stay, he took the rest, and left me behind. And Akane, of course, though she never suffered his pleasure, thank the gods.”

Ryo shivered, picturing the weary, gentle monks, struck down one by one. “Fortunate for you, then.”

“Perhaps, though one might also say a curse. Without Akane, I would have been alone.” He inclined his head towards her, which she acknowledged with a light, almost reverent touch on his arm, her sharp expression softening. Odd. He claimed not to be her master, and yet she acted as though she served. No, that wasn’t quite right. More like… esteem? Perhaps devotion?

“In any case, I am glad for your presence, young Ryo,” Kaito said. If you are to stay here, there is but one thing we would ask, that you would consider our creed with due measure, and should you come to the conclusion that it is not true, that you will at least respect it as we do.”

“That won’t be a problem. I am hardly in a position to hold others of less value than myself.”

For a long moment, Kaito did not speak, resting his chin on his hands and examining Ryo. Akane’s claws clicked on the wood floor, her gaze capturing Ryo’s and skewering him deeper still. His stomach lurched as he imagined what those claws could do if he made the mistake of angering her…

“It shall remain to be seen.” Kaito said, sitting upright with an air of finality. Akane broke eye contact with Ryo, glancing at the monk and nodding.

“Zor.”

“Precisely. It’s settled then! I imagine you are tired and hungry. Please…” He gestured to one of the screen doors off to the left. “Akane will show you to a room, and bring you some food. You may consider it yours. We can talk further in the morning, once you have rested.”

An invisible anvil lifted from Ryo’s shoulders. He bowed, leaning on his crutch to bend as far as he dared. “I am in your debt, Kaito. I only hope I may repay it.”

The monk laughed, his belly shaking as his features lit with mirth. “There are no debts to hold here, my friend. You will learn that, in time.”

Beside him, Akane rose, padding around the fire, her flowing mane rippling with each step. The large bead gathering the unruly fur into a neat tail flashed a rich orange, stealing the blaze’s glow. “Zor. Ark.” Without waiting to see if he followed, she moved to the screen, sliding it open.

With a quick nod to Kaito, Ryo hobbled after the pokémon, passing through the door into a narrow hall made by paper dividing walls. Lanterns hung every few feet from the beamed ceiling above, but only two were lit–pools of cheery coloured light among creeping shadow. He followed the graceful stalking form in front of him, his heart skipping a beat as she seemed to melt from light into dark like a wraith. He may not know her species, but that was a predator’s gait, no question. Lithe, precise, deadly, oddly beautiful–

“Zoro.” Indigo flashed from the gloom, bringing him up short with a gasp.

A soft, raspy, “Zor, zor.” Fangs glittered, those piercing eyes blinked, and for a moment, he thought he saw a flicker of movement from the shadow behind her. Did her mane act like a tail?

“Laugh if you must,” he muttered, his jaw tightening as he stared at the floor. “I’m not used to spending time around…” He paused, recalling his promise to Kaito. “Someone like you.”

Air ghosted across his forehead, his nostrils filling with the light fragrance of summer twilight, spicy musk with a hint of copper tang. Before he could move, a looming presence froze him, his fingers tightening on his crutch.

“Ark…” Hot breath carried the sound across sharp teeth, tickled his ear, granting him the sense of her tongue mere inches from his skin. Six needles pricked his shoulders, not enough to cause pain, but a definite reminder of their presence.

Ryo flinched, but choked down the urge to cry out, to lurch away and shuffle off as fast as his bad foot would allow. Breathe, just… breathe. His hammering heart slowed with each shaky inhalation, even as his body screamed at him to run.

“Is this what you want? I won’t be afraid of you. If you truly wanted to hurt me, you could have easily done it a hundred times already.”

Oil smooth, the imminent threat slid away, resolving back into Akane’s lanky form as she prowled back in front of him, the lantern’s glow playing off her facial markings to form a smirk with her gleaming fangs.

“Zoroark.” She slid open a screen door, stood in the gap and beckoned him into the room. Ryo had to squeeze past her to enter, and as he did, she patted him lightly on the shoulder. Had that all been a test? A charade to see if he would break under fear of the unknown?

Inside, a round window allowed moonlight through a slatted shade. A simple bedroll lay on the floor, and a low table containing a washing bowl, a pair of candles with a tinder box, and several neatly folded robes stood against the window wall. In the far corner, a pair of wicker baskets for clothing or other possessions sat, presumably empty.

“Zor. Zoroark?”

“I… yes, this is fine.” Words were abruptly difficult, past the lump in his throat. It was a far larger room than the one in his family home. “I’ll be alright here.” The excitement of meeting Kaito, and enduring Akane’s strange… humour, now past, he felt as though he had stones in his pockets, dragging him down towards the bedroll. The ache from the climb had resolved into a dull throb, and even though his belly felt hollow, he felt no urge to fill it.

He looked back at Akane, catching her sharp gaze once more weighing him, calculating, assessing. What went on behind those indigo eyes? “Thank you. Please, don’t worry about food. I just need… sleep.”

A shrug. “Zor.” Striding to the table, she picked up the wash bowl, tapping it with a claw, producing a hollow thunk. “Ark?”

One didn’t need to speak the language, with such expressive tones. “If you don’t mind, I would be grateful. Just… leave it by the door, I suppose.” He wouldn’t put it past her to walk in unannounced.

Another shrug, as if to say, ‘suit yourself’. Without another word, she turned and loped away, leaving him to the darkness and the crooning call of the bedroll.

He barely had the door slid closed before he surrendered, shucking his robe and collapsing into the bed’s sweet embrace.

 

***

 

Sunlight trickling through the shade woke him before the smell of something rich and spicy played across his nose. Ryo stretched, muscles protesting as a reminder of yesterday’s exertion. Whatever that scent was, his growling stomach was more than ready for it. He sat up, yawning, the blanket falling away from his bare chest.

A silhouette crouched on the table, outlined by a ring of sun from the window, leaving the form spectral and sinister, all spiky and ominous–

Ryo’s shout died on his lips as he recognized Akane, her gleaming eyes fixed on him.

“You!” Ryo sputtered, crossing his arms and glaring at the pokémon. “What are you doing? How long have you been there?”

Several short, raspy chuckles met his indignation. “Zor.” She slid off the table, sauntered to the foot of his bedroll, and nudged the wash bowl, now set there, with her foot. It sloshed, a few droplets sprinkling her dark fur. Next to it, a tray with a steaming bowl–the source of that lovely smell–tempted him to rise from his rest.

“I suppose I should know better than to ask silly questions.”

“Zoro.”

“Can you blame me though? It’s rather rude to scare someone like that.” He crossed his arms, fixing her with a stern look.

All it gained him was another set of raspy chuckles. She stepped back, leaning casually against the paper wall by the door, which stood wide open.

“Fine. Thank you for the food and water.”

She nodded, resting her paws on her belly and watching him, the image of a lazy sentinel.

He raised an eyebrow at her, glancing at the door. “Um, if you don’t mind, a little privacy?”

“Ark?”

“I’d like to change clothes.”

That bought a shrug and a wave of a clawed paw, as if to say, ‘What are you waiting for then?’

“Aren’t you female?”

“Zor.” Fangs glittered, a paw creeping down between her legs.

Ryo quickly tore his eyes away before following that lewd journey, heat flaring across his face. He’d already seen enough to know there were no obviously ‘male’ bits down there. Honestly, did she have any shame?

Gruff laughter answered the question.

“Maybe it doesn’t matter to you, but…” He dared to meet her eyes, and saw only jaded indifference. “Can you at least turn around?”

For a moment, he thought she would deny him even this simple request. But, huffing in resignation, she spun about, stretching against the doorframe, her claws digging into the wood. Ryo found himself following the curve of lithe muscle beneath that expansive mane, from her slim neck, across powerful shoulders, down an arched back, across wide thighs…

Shaking his head, Ryo tossed the blankets aside and rolled over to the table, snatching up one of the robes there. Like the one Kaito had worn, it was of plain brown cloth, softer than he’d expected. Beneath it lay a lighter sleeping or bath-robe, and a white cloak, along with some loin wraps. With one wary eye on the pokémon, he hastily slipped out of his wraps and into the fresh ones a shiver running up his spine as cool wood kissed bare skin.

Dutifully, she stayed facing the wall during the transition, though he thought he saw a pointed ear twitch. Ryo tugged the robe over his head, battling for a moment to find the armholes, before settling it in place, and emerging back into the light of day.

Akane reclined once more on the wall, eyes alight with mischief. She met his glare with a feral smirk, accentuated by the crimson markings dancing across her muzzle. “Zor. Zoro zor.”

“Hilarious, I’m sure. Do you make sport of all the cripples you meet?”

Her relaxed posture stiffened, perked ears flattening. “Zoro-ark!” She jabbed a claw at him. “Zor! Zoroark!”

“Alright!” Ryo raised his hands in surrender. “I’m… sorry, I suppose?” Though, what exactly about his statement had brought her ire baffled him. His belly chose that moment to remind him of its needs. “May I eat, now?”

“Zor.” Apparently mollified, she dropped to a crouch, paws resting on her knees.

“Going to make sure I finish all of it?” Ryo shook his head, but a grin crept onto his face. It would take him some time to grow accustomed to this one’s oddities, but, he could see himself appreciating her presence. Sliding over to the twin bowls, he first cleaned his face and hands, patting them dry with a neatly folded towel resting next to the tray. Then, he dug into the steaming food, which proved to be a yam mash, mixed with spices.

Before long, he was scraping the bowl clean and leaning back with a sigh. Kaito, it seemed, was a decent cook. Ryo washed the bowl, then stood, balancing one-legged. Where had he left it last night? Ah yes, there in the corner.

Akane rose from her crouch, tilting her head to the side as she watched him wobble back and forth, half-raising a paw as if to steady him. “Zor?”

“I can manage.” Ryo scooped up his crutch from its place leaning against the wall. “I’ve learned not to rely on others much.”

“Zoro.” This brought a nod, and a twitch of the ears. Odd. He wasn’t overly used to pokémon, and yet conversation with this one felt natural. Perhaps because she was so emotive, unlike the growlithes, ponytas, and pidgeys he’d seen about the village. She certainly seemed to have no trouble understanding him.

Ryo hobbled out into the hall, empty bowl in hand. To either side, opaque paper walls stretched, the lanterns overhead darkened in favor of sunlight flowing from all sides through open bedroom windows. Gone were the previous night’s shadows.

“Kaito-sa-” he checked himself. “Kaito?”

This must be the dormitory section of the monastery, though presumably only three of the rooms would be occupied. The kitchen must be on the other side. Maybe the monk was still there. Turning left, Ryo headed back towards the central chamber.

Soft, padding footfalls. He glanced back. Akane loped several paces behind, halting when he did. Their eyes met, her nonchalance defying him to comment on anything out of the ordinary.

Shrugging, he continued on. Probably Kaito had asked her to keep an eye on him, or some such. If only she didn’t do it so obviously!

Reaching the central chamber, it proved as empty as the dormitory. The firepit in the center lay cold, not even a whiff of smoke from its coals. In the daylight, the shrine set against the back wall of the room made its presence known, a small incense burner set beneath a large mural depicting pokémon of fanciful shape and form. Behind the burner, a polished brass gong stood, with the character for ‘many’ inscribed on its surface.

“Kaito?”

Silence. Ryo shuffled on, heading for the door on the opposite side. He would have to ask the monk the exact meaning of the shrine. If he was to stay here, he’d need to learn more of this creed of theirs.

As he’d suspected, the other hall lead him to the monastery’s utilities. The right hand passage took him to a small kitchen, with a stone oven, a grilling rack, wooden bowls and plates stacked neatly next to a basin, two large pots tucked next to the wall, and bundles of vegetables and herbs hanging in nets. No Kaito. Placing his bowl with the others, Ryo turned back, coming face-to-face with Akane again.

“Where has he gone?”

A slight twitch of one pointed ear. Her muzzle remained set, her eyes locked with his.

“You don’t know? Or won’t tell me?”

Stone-faced. He might as well have asked the pot.

“Fine.” Squeezing past her, he continued to explore, opening each sliding door he passed. A bathing chamber. A small study with neat shelves of scrolls and a writing desk. A closet containing mats, extra robes, and bedding. Another closet with gardening tools.

The final door at the end of the hall opened to bright morning sunshine. Ryo stepped out onto a small veranda, its rougher wood warm beneath his toes.

“Wow.”

Towering mountain peaks garbed in straggling pine rose to either side, nestled in a brilliant blue expanse punctuated by wisps of cloud. The morning breeze played across Ryo’s face; a friendlier cousin to the frigid gusts of the night before. A short bamboo fence stood between what must have been the cliff edge and the monastery’s small patch of ground. Beneath the mountain side of the fence, a narrow stream burbled through the grounds, catching in a cistern, before the excess flowed down a half-pipe of bamboo to continue its journey.

Most of the yard was taken up by tilled earth, spring vegetables popping up row by row, along with spring weeds. Of course, they had to grow their own food here, as they didn’t obtain supplies from the village. But, while the planted rows were neat, there seemed to be far more weeds than there should have been, and till marks ran in crooked lines, as though tended by a drunken hand. If this went on much longer, the weeds would choke out the plants!

Likely Kaito had seen a lot of hardship, with his friends falling ill one by one. Ryo could help fix this–he may have been a cobbler by trade, but one didn’t grow up in a village like Kawanoya without learning a thing or two about farming. A small grin tugged at his lips. Kaito had said there was no need for repayment, but he would earn his keep here.

Several straw hats hung from hooks next to the door. Ryo took one, tucked the strap under his chin, and limped off the porch into the garden. Dropping to his knees in the soil, he began methodically plucking weeds, taking care to get as much of the root as possible, lest they return with a vengeance.

“Zor?”

Akane sat on the edge of the veranda, resting her muzzle in her paws in an odd mirror of Kaito’s pose the night before. Here, in the sun, the bold crimson markings on her face reminded him even more of dancing flames.

“Wherever he’s gone, he’ll be back eventually, and when he returns, he’ll find find me making myself useful!”

“Ark.” A shrug.

“Just going to watch?”

“Zoro.” She waved a paw at him, twiddling the three long claws. Of course, they wouldn’t be as dextrous as human hands, though she seemed so casually capable, it was easy to forget that she would have limitations which he wouldn’t.

Ryo worked his way up and down the rows, clearing weeds until sweat beaded on his forehead. Sitting up, he rolled his shoulders and arched his back until it gave a satisfying pop! Most of the garden lay cleared of unwanted plantlife now. Time for a short break, before finishing the rest. He glanced toward the veranda. Akane now lay sprawled on one side, lazily swinging one leg back and forth off the edge of the porch, while picking her teeth with a claw. With those startling eyes half-closed, she almost looked to be dozing, but the moment he turned towards her, that gaze met his with an intensity that belied her casual posture.

Swallowing hard, Ryo levered himself up onto his crutch and limped over to the cistern, pouring himself a cool drink with the ladle. Honestly, did she have to stare like that? It was enough to send chills up his spine.

At the opposite corner of the garden, several piles of stone lay in evenly spaced rows. Ryo’s heart skipped a beat, and he coughed on his next sip of water. He hadn’t spotted them from his hands and knees. The earth before them was disturbed, but not fresh. Four.. no, five. The last didn’t have a shrine. Odd.

Replacing the ladle, Ryo limped over to the graves, stopping short of the overturned soil and bowing his head in respect. He didn’t know their names, but-

“Zor.”

Ryo yelped, lost his balance, floundered, and barely caught himself with his crutch, the hat toppling from his head, caught by the strap to dangle over his back. His heart drummed a frantic rhythm in his chest. Turning, he glared at Akane.

“Must you sneak up on me?”

That narrow muzzle twitched, dark lips drawing back over sharp fangs. If that wasn’t a pokémon’s version of a smirk, he’d eat this hat!

“Zoro?”

“Sure, play innocent if you like.” Frowning at her, he adjusted the hat back onto his head. “It’s rude to interrupt someone paying their respects, you know.”

“Ark.”

Ryo pointed at the final grave. “Why is that one unmarked? Won’t that trap their spirit?” Or something of the like. He couldn’t recall what was said to become of a soul buried in an unmarked grave. “Who is buried there?”

She assumed the stone face again, though for a moment, her eyes looked at something only she could see.

“I suppose they were your friends too, weren’t they.”

“Zoroark…”

“I’m sorry.”

For a long moment, neither of them moved, standing over those lonely patches of earth. He might not have known them, but this was his home now. In a way, they were his predecessors. He owed them for their hard work, granting him a place to live, a second chance. He wished their spirits well.

“Come on,” Ryo said, turning from the sobering place. “Let’s go back.”

 

***

 

Kaito didn’t return for lunch, which Ryo made for himself and Akane using the supplies found in the kitchen. He spent the afternoon finishing the task of pulling weeds under Akane’s watchful eye, gathering up the unwanted plants to dry and use as kindling. When the sun dipped below the horizon with no sign of the monk, Ryo’s concern rose.

“Does he often leave all day like this?” he asked Akane, the two of them sitting by the now lit firepit in the central chamber, each nursing a bowl of stewed cabbage, leek, and noodles.

“Zor.” As expected, a shrug.

“You’re not worried?”

She shook her head.

“Did he leave to gather supplies?”

Another shrug. Ryo sighed, staring into the flames. Why would the monk offer him a place to live, then leave without explanation? Was this some kind of test? See how well he could survive here, before truly accepting him?

Movement caught the corner of his eye. Akane had slid herself closer, her knee nearly touching his. The silken grey fur gleamed in the flickers of firelight, offset by the dark crimson of her mane-tail, which lay in her lap. His fingers itched. What did it feel like to stroke such soft fur? He’d pet master Shin’s growlithe of course, but Akane’s coat looked less coarse, more...

Shaking the stray urge off, Ryo raised an eyebrow at her. “Yes?”

Fangs glittered. If she kept leering like that, her muzzle would get sore. A paw reached out, rested on the back of his hand. Thick, hardened pad sliding across skin. Her grip tightened, claws forming a cage about his hand, raising it from his own knee, lifting it across to rest on hers.

“Ark.”

She let go, leaving him with one hand cradling a hot bowl of stew, the other grazing luxurious softness, fine strands of hair gliding between his fingertips as he involuntarily twitched.

“Zorooo…”

The soft, pleased sigh came with her head resting on his shoulder.

“Um…”

Delicate, yet distinct aromas played through his nose. Almost like incense, many-layered and sweet. Warm breath washed across his neck, her muzzle inches from his skin, a hint of moisture ghosting across the rapidly pulsing vein beneath his jaw...

With a cry, Ryo jerked away, nearly spilling his stew. “Gods above, what are you doing?”

“Zor?” Tilting her head to the side, she was the image of innocent confusion.

Ryo leveled a quivering finger at her. “S-stay away from me! I don’t know what you’re thinking but… just, stay away!”

She flinched as though struck. “Zoroark! Zor…” Ears flattened, she rose, for once not meeting his eyes. She scooped up her half-eaten bowl of stew and turned away, loping into the shadows and melting from sight.

Ryo stared at the dormitory hall where she’d vanished, his heaving chest gradually calming. What kind of game was she playing? Where the hell was Kaito?!

And why had her delicate touch made his skin feel like it was on fire?

 

***

 

Kaito didn’t return the next day, or the day after. Ryo caught glimpses of Akane as he moved about the monastery’s empty chambers, but the moment he saw the gleaming bead on her mane, or a hint of an indigo stare, she’d melt away like a ghost, leaving him to wander alone. He considered pursuing her, apologizing for his outburst, but hadn’t yet worked up the nerve.

He’d not taken her for the type to be so easily deterred either, and maybe he’d overreacted, though her actions had seemed suspiciously like a lover’s advances. Perhaps it was normal for her kind to express friendship that way, and he’d done the equivalent of spitting on an outstretched hand?

Whatever the case, he would make it up to her, once he’d had his fill of this solitude… which was beginning to wear rather thin. With little to do aside from care for himself and tend the garden, he found himself either roaming aimlessly about the monastery’s corridors, or napping in the middle of the day like some layabout. He hadn’t summoned the courage to leave the protection of the monastery and explore the mountainside yet, and he’d much prefer to do so with Kaito… or at least, Akane, by his side.

The third day on his own, he spent the afternoon in the study, glancing through various scrolls by the light of the window. Some were historical texts. Others told stories of various legendary pokémon, the gods given form. Several turned out to be family trees of nobles dating back to the previous dynasty and beyond.

One scroll lay distinct, sitting unprotected on the writing desk, next to a calligraphy brush, a stoppered bottle of ink, and an unlit candle. A quick look proved it to be Kaito’s personal journal, which Ryo closed the moment he’d read far enough to discern that fact. He had no wish to spy on the one who’d offered him sanctuary, even if he had vanished without a word.

Replacing the scroll on the desk, Ryo limped back into the hall. Crimson and slate flashed in the corner of his vision. He turned to catch the tail end of a bobbing mane ducking back into the central chamber.

“Akane?”

No answer. Shaking his head and huffing in frustration, Ryo hobbled to the end of the hall, shoving open the door to the garden. Today, dark clouds blotted out the sky, pregnant with spring showers. Well and good, the garden needed it anyhow. Ryo scooped up a bucket from where he’d left it on the veranda and limped to the cistern, drawing enough water to cook the evening’s meal. So far, he’d been making enough food for two, and leaving half in the kitchen. It was always gone when he returned, so she was eating at least.

A growl of thunder rocked the air. Ryo turned to hurry back inside. Wherever Kaito was, hopefully it was in shelter. The shrines on the other side of the garden caught his eye. Five graves, four shrines. Ryo’s jaw tightened. He’d meant to ask Kaito about it, but... It wasn’t right. Tomorrow, he’d build a proper shrine, after the storm had passed. For now, whomever was resting there needed proper respect paid, so their spirit could pass on. The monastery’s main shrine would serve perfectly.

Fat droplets of rain began spattering the soil as he closed the door on the elements. Ryo placed the bucket of water in the kitchen, then shuffled into the central chamber. The lanterns were already lit–Akane’s ghostly presence at work once more. Where was she hiding now? Probably watching him, wherever she was. He’d nearly grown used to the creeping sensation of hair rising on the back of his neck from invisible eyes tracking his movements.

A small chest set in the corner of the shrine yielded incense sticks and a tinder box. Ryo lit one and placed in in the burner. Kneeling in front of the shrine, he bowed his head, silently murmuring a prayer for the unknown soul. He stumbled over many of the words–he’d never had to perform last rites before–but at least the spirits would recognize his good intent, wouldn’t they?

Conscience lightened, Ryo looked up, following the rising, spicy smoke of the incense. A glimmer of movement stalled his gaze. Akane? No, his reflection in the polished brass of the ‘many’ gong. Should he strike it? That was what one usually did after a prayer, right? He reached for the mallet, his fingers closing around the smooth wood of its handle. Just one ring, to close the–

His breath caught in his throat. The blood in his veins turned to ice. At first, the wavering image in the brass had been distorted, but as he leaned close…

Not his face. Kaito’s.

Ryo raised a shaking hand, touched his cheek. The reflection did the same. Every contour, every bump, the shape of his nose… it felt right. The mirror image followed the same lines, moving across Kaito’s squashed, wide nose, the kindly wrinkles around the older man’s eyes, over his bald head! Nothing felt wrong or out of place, yet instead of running his fingers through his usual shock of thick dark hair, only smooth, pebbled skin met his palm, as though he’d been bald for years and never known it until now.

Ryo blinked, shook his head, pinched himself until he nearly drew blood. The image didn’t so much as waver.

The room lit with a brilliant flash. Thunder shook the walls. He didn’t realize he was falling until his shoulders hit the floor. This wasn’t a dream. A hallucination? Had he eaten some strange mountain herb without realizing it?

Shooting pain lanced up his right leg. It must have twisted as he fell. Gritting his teeth until it passed, for once, he was grateful for his crippled foot. That, at least, told him he was still… himself, no matter what madness his eyes told him.

Sitting up, Ryo dared to look back at the gong, peering through the light haze of incense smoke. Once more, Kaito’s face stared back.

Panting, Ryo hauled himself to his feet and whirled, hobbling towards the dormitory.

“Akane! Where are you? Come out, I need to speak to you!” Did she see the same thing? Was he Kaito to her?

“Akane? Please, I’m sorry I upset you, but this is important!”

Thunder answered him. Grumbling at it, Ryo hurried to his room to close the shutter before his bedroll grew wet.

“Akane!”

Not so much as a glimpse of crimson. Such a stubborn creature she was proving to be! Had she left now too? But, no, the lanterns proved she was still here, unless she had lit them and run off into the storm for some unknown reason. Each shuffling step back down the hall, Ryo’s ragged breathing assaulted his ears. He’d last seen her going into the central chamber, and unless she’d managed to slip past him, she couldn’t have returned to the east facing side of the monastery. Was he going mad? Was she a hallucination? But, he’d touched her! Felt her fur, muscle bone…

Just as he’d touched his face, Kaito’s face.

Gasping, Ryo stumbled back into the central chamber, welcomed by another blazing flash, and a crack of thunder so close, it nearly deafened him. One place he hadn’t looked; outside. He hobbled for the entrance chamber, stumbling and catching the toes of his bad foot, but barely registering the pain. He had to find the pokémon, get his answer.

In the doorway leading to the entrance chamber, Ryo froze in his tracks. A single lantern spilled cheery light across rows of sandals, as well as his specially made boots.

Where once had been a pair of doors, blank, featureless wood barred the way, defying him to rationalize with his senses.

“Zoro.”

The room spun, lantern light swallowed by lightning. The last thing Ryo saw before slipping into churning darkness, was Akane’s flame-marked muzzle, leaning over him.

 

***

 

The steady beat of thousands of tiny rapidash galloping across the roof invaded Ryo’s consciousness, drawing him up from the abyss. His eyes opened to more darkness, only a thin measure of distorted silver light dripping through the window. His bedroom window. His skin prickled, bare chest, arms, and legs exposed, though the fabric of a blanket kept him from the wood floor, and the soft pillow beneath his head was ever so warm…

Ryo gasped, attempted to sit up. A gentle, yet firm paw pressed to his forehead kept him in place.

“Zor…”

As his eyes adjusted, Ryo could make out Akane’s outline looming above and behind him, her sweet breath warming his face, posture leaning protectively over his supine form. A flash of her eyes locked on him, as she slid that paw in a tender line down his cheek, those wicked claws caressing in a manner that sent a shiver down his spine, and summoned a flutter to his belly.

“What–” The word barely escaped his dry throat, lost to the pounding rain.

“Zoro.” Her breathy exhalation followed that trailing paw under his chin, down his neck, across his chest. The taut, muscled warmth pressed to the top of his head rose and fell in living rhythm.

His hand twitched, nudging more silken fur sheathing firm muscle; her leg, stretched out comfortably, as though she were prepared to straddle his shoulders. His head rested between those splayed legs, nestled against her softly gurgling belly.

A faint sharp scent ghosted across his nostrils, stirring a primal beast deep inside him. Even in the dark, that gaze pierced him, bringing an acute awareness of his lack of dress, only his undergarments protecting his modesty, while her paws wandered across his chest, prodding the beast further. He should seize her wrists, halt this… whatever it was. Innocent intentions or not, laying like this in the tender embrace of a pokémon? It was surely inappropriate!

So why couldn’t he move? If he had any pride left to shame, it was torn to shreds. She’d carried him here. Lain him down. Undressed him, and now sat, placidly fondling him as one would a lover, as though it were perfectly normal for her to treat him like this.

The beast growled, stretched its limbs. Ryo couldn’t so much as lift a finger. Those delicate clawtips were exploring, inching lower, trailing down his sides…

“Akane,” he croaked.

The claws halted. Reversed. Climbed.

Ryo wet his lips, swallowed. “Akane, please…”

Questing paws fell still, cupping his cheeks. Tough as her pads were, they remained supple, like a weathered hand.

The beast prowled, it restlessness reflected in the rising warmth in Ryo’s skin; urged by that mysterious aroma. His undergarments were tighter than they should have been. Shame flared up, but he still couldn’t move.

“What… what do you see?” A stupid question, but the only thing his addled mind could manage.

“Zoro. Zor.” A claw tapped his forehead. ‘You’.

He expected a laugh, but only a soft sigh escaped her.

“And who am I? Am I... Kaito?”

Silence.

“Am I Ryo?”

Her paws fell away, resting on either side of his head. The beast grumbled.

“Do I look like Kaito?”

A quiver shook her lithe form. She drew a deep breath. “Ark.”

Ryo’s belly tried to tumble about, the paralysis bleeding from his limbs. He wasn’t insane! Bracing on his elbows, he sat up, this time unchallenged, and drew his knees up to his chin before swivelling to face her. His bad foot jutted obscenely to the side, but he didn’t care. The beast at last subsided.

Akane’s silhouette huddled in on itself, her wayward limbs drawing in. He couldn’t read the expression on her pointed muzzle, but no gleam of indigo greeted him.

“Do you know how this is happening?”

Silence.

“Has this happened before?”

Not so much as a twitch.

“Is Kaito real?”

“Zor! Zoro-ark!” Fangs glittered in a stray moonbeam.

“Calm down.” Ryo spread his hands, palms flat. “I’m only trying to understand. Do you know where Kaito is?”

Movement. Her arm extended, pointing at him. Ryo’s breath caught.

“No, Akane… I may look like him, but I’m not Kaito.”

“Ark!”

His jaw tightened. “No, I’m not! You can’t deny the truth. I am Ryo. This proves it!” He gently tapped his club foot. “Now, where is Kaito?”

“Zoro...” It almost sounded petulant. Her extended arm jabbed, a clawtip poking him in the chest.

“I don’t accept that you truly believe that.”

She grunted, her silhouette turning sideways, outlining her profile against the window. Was this stubbornness? Denial? Or something else? He couldn’t escape the notion that she was hiding something, but… what did she have to gain?

“I wonder how long you’ve been here…” he mumbled, not expecting an answer. Her silently raised paws caught him off guard. Four claws held up, barely visible in the dim.

“Four… years?”

“Zor.”

It seemed odd, a powerful pokémon like herself choosing to remain cooped up in a monastery, when she had freedom to go where she pleased. A warrior with no battles to fight.

“Thank you, for watching over me.”

She nodded.

“I don’t know what…” he paused, weighing his words. He didn’t want to risk offending her to the point where she avoided him again. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I feel safer with you around. You’d make sure nothing bad happened, right?”

“Ark.” Her whisper barely pierced the patter of rain.

“Thank you.” The truth of those words was startling. Despite her quirks and poor sense of humour, knowing that he wasn’t alone here, that a strong protector against whatever evils might lurk on the mountain was only a shout away, was a comforting thought. “I… I think I’d like to sleep now.”

“Zoro.” A rustling sound. She’d pulled the blankets back on the bedroll, and was scooting back to make more room for him to slip into it.

“You’re planning to stay here?”

The silhouette roiled–a shrug. He didn’t have the energy to argue. Part of him didn’t want to.

“Do as you please.”

A soft, raspy chuckle chased him into the bedroll.

 

***

 

The next day arrived bright, clear, and full of promise. Ryo awoke to an empty bedroom, allowing him to dress in peace. Emerging into the hall, he nearly ran into Akane, who held a steaming bowl with a spoon sticking out in her paws. She halted, ears flattening, and she thrust the bowl into his chest with a sulky, “Ark.”

“You were hoping to pull your morning surprise trick again?” Grinning, he balanced the bowl of mash in his crutch arm and shook a finger at her. “I won’t be caught so easily anymore!”

The toothy grin that brought to her pointed muzzle quickly made him regret his rash words. “Zor… Zoroaaark.” A single claw traced the line of his jaw down to his chin, and she parted with a chuckle, prowling off down the hall and disappearing into the central chamber.

Just when he thought he had her figured out, she would do something surprising. Shuddering at the thought of what devious plans might be circling in the pokémon’s head, Ryo hobbled after her, thoughtfully chewing a bite of mash.

The central chamber sat remained just as he’d left it, including the burned incense stick sitting in the shrine’s brazier. Foolish of him to have expected it to change, but somehow, he’d harboured the notion that things would be different on this new day after his unsettling discovery. Checking his reflection in the brass gong confirmed that he still wore Kaito’s face.

Downing more of his breakfast, he shuffled to the entry chamber. As before, only smooth wall where there should have been a door. It should have frightened him, but instead he felt a grim resolve. This was a puzzle, and he could find the answer. He even knew where to start looking.

Once he’d opened the window screen, the study was truly a cheery place; a repository of knowledge. Ryo set the bowl–now mostly empty–down on the desk and sat. He offered a silent prayer for forgiveness, and reached for the scroll lying untouched, unrolling it to the beginning. It was a neatly packed, tight-scripted thing, etched in a precise, elegant hand.

The entries began in the middle of the previous year, which meant there must be other scrolls of this nature hidden among these stacks. For the time being, only the most recent events concerned Ryo, but as master Shin had always told him, “the whole is more important than the details”. Besides, curiosity had its fangs in him. What sort of man was his host? He began to read.

Kaito, it appeared, wrote more about others than himself. The dates marked skipped about with no apparent pattern, though there was an entry roughly once each week. Names flowed past–Sakamoto, Masashi, Kyoichi, Yuu… Kaito had fond words and amusing stories for all of the other monks. But, his favourite topic seemed to be Akane.

A creature of such grace and poise, one entry proclaimed, can scarcely be contained within ink. Every day, she surprises with the depth of her perception, and one wonders if any truth can hide from her incisive gaze. At times, I feel as though we are blessed by divinity walking among us.

Ryo’s lips tugged into a smile. Akane? A goddess? Perhaps a bit much, but Kaito was certainly correct about her ‘incisive gaze’. And, about the graceful part.

Another entry sounded closer to home.

Her delight in mischief knows no bounds. I don’t know if poor Sakamoto will ever draw water from the well again! In ignorance, one might call her ability terrifying, but I can only see the beauty hidden beneath her pranks. The power she commands is great, yet causes no destruction like so many of her kind. Truly an elegant solution to the challenges faced in the world outside, and one that can achieve so much more than mere combat.

Interesting. What sort of ‘ability’ was this? Had he seen her use it? Would she demonstrate if he asked her?

Weeks slid past under his fingertips. Happy memories, problems they’d overcome, musings on the nature of the world… Ryo found himself wishing to speak with the man, as he had the strong impression they would have been friends.

Eventually, he drew near the end of the scroll, and uncovered the first grim entry.

Yuu fell ill today. I believe the travelling merchant we housed three days past was carrying the sickness. Sakamoto has gone to collect more herbs, as we never replenished our supply of ginger and peppermint. Yuu claims he will be back on his feet soon enough, but that cough is worrisome. I saw him hide the bloodstain on his towel.

Two days passed without an entry. Then…

Sakamoto barely made it back. Akane found him collapsed at our door, wheezing, and carried him to bed. Yuu’s condition has worsened, and so far, the teas we have prepared have had little effect beyond easing his rest. He can no longer hide the red stains on the towels, nor the shaking in his limbs. With Sakamoto joining him, I fear our supply of Pecha root will grow thin. Sakamoto was able to gather little. Masashi, Kyoichi and I have offered prayers to the many, and have begun covering our faces when treating our friends. Akane keeps our spirits high with her power, giving us visions of beauty within the darkness.

A three day gap followed. Ryo’s stomach churned at the next words.

Akane and I buried Yuu today. It was with the heaviest of hearts that we laid him to rest. He was the youngest of us, and should have enjoyed a long life yet. Masashi would have helped, but I forbade him to exert himself as soon as I heard his cough. Kyoichi has already joined Sakamoto in the sick room, and while their spirits are as strong as can be expected, I do not know how they will react to see Masashi fall to this illness. Akane, thankfully, remains unaffected. Perhaps this evil is one that spares pokémon. If we were to lose her as well, I do not know how I would go on.

An icy claw reached into Ryo’s chest, gripping his heart. He forced his eyes down to the next line, marked for the following day.

Masashi collapsed suddenly. I believe he hid the sickness as long as he could, but it became too much for even one as strong as him to bear. The countenance worn by Sakamoto and Kyoichi when Akane dragged Masashi into the room near broke my heart. Sakamoto has held the sickness longer, yet appears to be sustaining better than poor Kyoichi, who slips in and out of fever dreams, and no amount of damp towels can cool his burning skin. Perhaps, if Sakamoto can defeat this foe, there is hope.

The next lines were messy, barely legible. Ryo squinted, struggling to puzzle out the distorted characters. The date was several months ago.

Kyoichi went to join Yuu in the night. Sakamoto followed not be far behind. I have never seen Akane so grim as when she took them away, though her eyes only fell to me while I struggled to assist until she pushed me away as one might a child. My fingers barely grip the brush to describe these events, and I fear I may soil the page with tears, sweat, or blood. The one joy I take, is that she appears to have thwarted this affliction within herself. Her fighting spirit burns like the sun, and I know she will set our friends to rest with proper care and respect. Death’s looming fangs hold no fright for me. My one regret lies in leaving her behind, should the worst come to pass. The loneliness she would bear… It is my hope she would move on, find a new place to thrive, should this darkness claim the last of us. I will tell her as much when she returns. If only I did not feel so tired, so very tired…

Ink trailed off the page in a wavering line. Ryo could picture the monk collapsing, dropping the brush, his strength drained by the creeping affliction. The hairs on his arms and neck rose with the chill zipping down his spine, and he hastily stood, nearly falling before catching himself on his crutch. Five monks. Five graves outside. What he’d read had been Kaito’s last words.

A shadow crossed the doorway. Ryo looked up to meet Akane’s gaze, those intense eyes looking at once at him and through him. Her ears lay flat, her jaw tight. She held her claws across her chest in an oddly defensive pose, as though she feared he might strike her.

“He was more than a friend to you, wasn’t he?”

She looked away, a tremor rocking her lithe form. “Zor.”

Five graves, four shrines. Why? If the pair had been what he suspected, why disrespect Kaito’s memory? “Akane, I’m so sorry. You lost so much, so quickly I…” He drew in a shaky breath. “We’re not all that different after all, are we? My mother is still alive, but I can never see her again, nor any of the others I once knew. It may not be a comfort, but at least this is a pain we can share.”

She gave an almost imperceptible nod.

One great mystery remained. Reaching out, Ryo laid a hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her to face him.

“Please, now that I know the truth, I have to understand the rest.” His throat felt dry, the words sticking. “Are you… doing this somehow?” Gingerly, he touched his face, running it across contours that at once felt familiar and strange.

Akane stiffened, spun, and stalked away.

It felt a bit like a punch to the belly. “Wait!” Ryo cried, hobbling after her as fast as he could manage. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to accuse you, I just–”
“Ark!”

His mouth snapped shut at her savage retort. She didn’t look back, loping into the central chamber.

“Akane! Don’t do this again.”

She didn’t respond. Cursing under his breath, Ryo followed, just in time to see her bobbing mane disappear into the entrance chamber. He limped over, ignoring the pain when his foot snagged from a misstep.

“I know you’re upset, but I only want to understand. Running away won’t stop me!”

Her back was to him as he entered, her shoulders hunched. With the morning sun slanting through one paper-screened window, she stood half in shadow, like a living representation of yin and yang.

“Please don’t ignore me.”

She held up a paw, halting him in his tracks. Was she trying to leave? But, no, her posture struck him as more… resigned rather than desperate.

Akane waved her paw in a circular motion.

The wall rippled. Like wax in a forge fire, the wood seemed to melt. In its place, the twin sturdy doors Ryo had entered through reappeared.

Ryo’s skin crawled. Reading Kaito’s description of Akane’s ability, a creeping suspicion had taken root, but to see it occur before his eyes…

Stepping forward, she yanked open one of the doors, allowing golden light to pour in. At last, she turned, fixed him with a glare. “Zoro.” She nodded her head to the door, standing aside. “Zoroark!”

“You want me to… leave?”

Stonefaced, she crossed her arms across her chest.

“You’re allowing me to leave?”

“Zor.” A quick, sharp nod. She tensed, as though bracing.

Fresh mountain air played across Ryo’s nose, bearing the scent of pine. It would be so simple to walk out that door and not look back. Follow the mountain pass until he crossed over, made it to a road. Eventually, he’d find another village or town, somewhere to start anew once more. Akane had tricked him. Trapped him here against his will.

But…

“Zoro!” The cry was choked. She jabbed a claw at the door. Behind her, a wavering, ghostly apparition began to materialize–a robed man with a wide nose, bald head, and easy smile.

He had never truly been the one trapped.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” Ryo said, stepping past her and pushing the door closed. “But I’ve come to like it here. You’ll have to throw me out if you want me to leave.” The tremble beneath his fingers surprised him as he rested his hand on the soft fur of her shoulder, his crutch falling forgotten to the side. “And you wouldn’t throw a helpless cripple out on his ear, would you?”

She stared at him, searching his face. As if he’d lie to her–she’d know instantly. “Zor?”

“I don’t care about what you did. Maybe I should be angry… but, I understand now, and I want to help.”

“Ark.” The phantom monk vanished.

“Do I really remind you of him? He seems far wiser than a fool village boy like me.”

Pointed ears perked. Her chuckle rasped, burning his cheeks.

“Yes, well… I suppose it’s an honour, to be compared.”

She nodded, prodding him in the chest. “Zoro. Zor.”

“I know, and I could never live up to the original, but that’s not really the point. I’m not trying to replace him.” He fixed her with a stern look, attempting to copy the commanding pose of Nobu-sama. “Do you remember what we talked about before? About falsehoods and truth?”

She nodded.

“Leaving aside the ‘how’ of it–perhaps later, I’ll get to understand this power of yours a bit better–I can’t accept what you’re doing to yourself any longer. You have to move on, Akane. Holding on to the painful past will destroy you. We can’t change it, and it does no good to hide from the truth.”

Her gaze dropped, claws tapping together over her belly. “Zor.”

“I know it hurts,” Ryo murmured, squeezing her shoulder gently. “But I’m here, and I’m not going to leave you to that pain. You have to let go. It doesn’t mean forgetting about him. Merely accepting the facts.”

The trembling beneath his hand vibrated up his arm. A feeling of ice water pouring over his head made him yelp. Hesitantly, Ryo touched his face. The odd, ghostly sensation of right-but-not-right had disappeared as well. He ran his fingers over his head. Familiar hair parted to his touch.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Wrapping his arms around the shaking pokémon felt like the most natural thing in the world.

 

***

 

He didn’t know how long they remained like that, clutching one another and standing against the bitter loneliness. Eventually, her trembling ceased, replaced by quiet murmurings and sighs. Her paws squeezed his lower back, relaxed, wandered to his waist, squeezed again. Ryo kept as still as possible, confused emotions and thoughts simmering, though his fingers idly stroked through the silken luxury of her mane. She must have had a brush, to keep it so smooth. Holding her like this, just as he’d once imagined himself holding Yasu, what seemed like so long ago…

With a low growl, she tugged away so quickly, he nearly fell.

“Hey!”

“Zoro.” Her tone was apologetic, but her posture radiated resolve as she turned away, striding into the central chamber and leaving him to flounder for his fallen crutch. Had he done something wrong?

A husky feminine voice purred in his mind. “There is something I must do.”

Ryo’s breath caught. Rising, he hobbled after her. “I knew it! All this time, you could speak with me?”

Raspy chuckles rang out, but she didn’t stop, making for the right hand doorway. “Of course I can, If I choose. Most times, it’s more interesting not to.”

That first night, his conversation with ‘Kaito’... of course, that had been her, but he’d thought perhaps she needed to draw upon memory, like an artist displaying captured images. “And you waited until now to reveal this talent?”

Without looking back, she shrugged. “You weren’t ready.” She vanished into the hall, padded footfalls receding. “And perhaps I like having you uncertain.”

He didn’t need to see the smirk to know it was there. Slowing his pursuit to wait for his racing thoughts to catch up, Ryo leaned on the doorframe. With everything he learned about her, a new puzzle opened, like the enigma box Master Shin had once shown him, with its parts so intricately entwined, one could spend days attempting to uncover its secrets.

The sound of wood sliding on wood preceded daylight and fresh air flowing into the hall. Peering around the corner afforded him a glimpse of her mane-tail vanishing into the garden. Curiosity battled with the desire to respect her boundaries, and won a war of attrition. He slowly followed, halting at the garden doorway.

Akane knelt by Kaito’s grave, a smooth rock in her paws. With careful reverence, she placed it at the head of the overturned earth, in line with the other shrines. For a moment, she crouched, motionless. Then, she began to search for a second stone.

Shame flared in Ryo’s cheeks. He had no right to intrude here. If she needed comfort, she would find him.

Turning back inside, he left her to her task.

 

***

 

For the rest of the day, Akane pulled her disappearing act. Ryo didn’t search for her, tending his own needs, and making enough food for two. Eating his baked vegetables and rice on the porch, overlooking the orange sunset glow pouring molten over the mountains, a sense of peace settled upon him. For the first time since arriving here, all was well with the world. The past did not hold him. The future was not a concern. Absently, he ran a hand through his hair–an action he’d taken for granted so many times. His bad foot tapped the wood of the porch. Needles of pain jabbed, but he didn’t wince. This was his reality, and he was grateful for it. Not even the encroaching mountain night brought fear, once so alien. He wasn’t facing it alone.

Returning indoors, he found the lanterns lit once more, casting pools of green, red, and yellow. How did she manage that task so quickly, and with such stealth? Something was off though… she’d lit only alternating lamps, and the kitchen was dark. Returning his dish–the portion of food he’d left for her was gone–he followed the colourful trail. The central chamber too was darkened, though a candle had been placed in the very center, forming a guideline to the splash of rosy glow on the opposite side.

What is she playing at?

Moth to flame, he hobbled to the far hall, trying with little success to quell the flutters in his belly. Red, yellow, green. The final haven of light illuminated his open bedroom door. Gripping tight to his crutch, he limped on to uncover his fate. Was she going to leap out at him? He wouldn’t put it past her.

His eyes took a moment to adjust to his bedroom’s darkness. The moon had yet to fully rise, and with the lantern behind him, Akane was barely a shadow, crouched by the window. Ryo wavered in the doorway, wrestling with the implication thrown into his face. Was he misreading her?

“How was dinner?” He at last said, to break the silence as much as anything.

“Zor.” A shift in her silhouette–that nonchalant shrug.

“Back to leaving me guessing?”

Low, raspy chuckles. Ryo sighed, shuffled into the room, and leaned his crutch against the wall before sliding down to sit on the floor across from her.

“I think I preferred not knowing you could… make words.”

“Do I frighten you?”

That husky, purring tone, as rich as it was intangible, made him start.

“Not exactly. I suppose you’re like an unpredictable older sister. Not that I ever had one. I know you won’t do anything truly bad to me, but at the same time, I know how much tormenting me pleases you.”

Soft laughter; a dark wind through dense brush. Something glittered out of the shadow. The hair on his arms prickled.

“Are you… intending to sit by my bed all night again?”

“Would you prefer I leave you alone?”

“I… No.”

“Ark.” Another gleam. Fabric rustled, and claws scraped on wood.

“I might not have been intending to sleep yet, you know.”

Shifting shadow. A shrug. Just then, moonlight reached through the window, illuminating her crouched form, her gaze locked on him, fierce markings outlining a toothy grin, muscles tensed; a predator prepared to pounce.

The fluttering in Ryo’s belly migrated to his chest. “Must you look at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“As if I’m a helpless fish, squirming in a net.”

“Maybe the fish should swim from the net, and find what awaits him.”

“This fish isn’t a very good swimmer.”

“Zor.” Her swiftness took his breath away. One eyeblink, she was crouched by the window. The next, a blur of shadow, and she was at his side, lightly grasping his right arm, tugging him to his feet. Compelled by the force of her will as much as the gentle urging, he followed, allowing her to support him over to the bedroll. The ease with which she assisted him gave him the impression she could have picked him up bodily if she’d wished, and no amount of protest on his part could have stopped her.

Lowering him to sit, she mirrored him, linking her arm through his, pressing up to his side. Her chin rested on his shoulder, and a pleased sigh tickled his ear. Her other paw found his hand, squeezing it softly to her warm pad.

“Akane–”

A heavy claw rested on his lips for an instant, cutting short his question. From his mouth, it slid, tracing the line of his chin, falling to his neck, running slow circles across his collarbone. Her other paw roamed, exploring the contours of his arm, side, lingering on his hip a moment before creeping down to his thigh. His nose twitched, catching that heady incense once again, mingling with the sweetness of her breath. Within him, the instincts of the ancient beast stirred, awakening a hot flush in his cheeks and ears.

“Zoorrrr.” Her tone was a languid purr in his ear, while the claws of her upper paw fiddled with the fabric of his robe. Her lower paw circled his knee, ever so often tapping the inner side of his thigh, further prodding the urges rumbling to life inside him.

“I’m not him,” Ryo whispered.

“I know. I don’t care.”

A chill ran down his spine. The masks were gone. This was her, and she wanted him, in a way that no one ever had. Yes, she was not human, what of it? She was clearly no dumb beast. How could he rationalize valuing her as less than another human?

He was inclined to agree with the philosophy of the One Accord, especially when it involved the stunning creature before him. Looking at her in this context, he truly saw the beauty that had been before there all along. Deadly, untamed beauty, to be sure, more akin to a thunderstorm in the night than a wild rose, yet, he found it more appealing than the perfumed finery that passed for female beauty among humans. It was natural, real, unmarred by another’s standard of how one should look.

“Arrrr…” Both paws worried at his robe now. Not quite forceful, but insistent. Needy. Her fierce independence drew him on a primal level. Neither of them wished to lean on another, and when confronted by their limitations, would lean only as much as necessary. They complemented each other like a broken pot held to a mirror. Neither of them needed to face the world alone.

This was his reality.

Tilting his head to face her, he leaned into her until their noses met. A slight shift, and his lips found her pointed muzzle. His breath caught, uncertainty holding desire on a thin leash. Warm, wet softness pressed to his lips. Her paw on his knee squeezed. The beast broke free.

Their tongues danced as Ryo’s arm slid around her waist, tugging her close. She was forceful, in control, guiding his wild flailing, the pebbled texture of her tongue exploring his mouth and stealing his breath. He met her as best he could, testing that stronger muscle, sampling her as she did him, a shudder rolling down his spine with the new sensations.

Ryo’s chest heaved when she at last released him, a quiet purr rumbling in his ear. Somehow, his other hand had circled her side, twining in her mane, and as he looked into her half-lidded eyes, the warmth in his cheeks suffused his entire body. This was what it was like to meet another’s passion! A feeling so rich and raw that–

The purr rolled into a throaty growl, and he found himself falling, shoved to the bedroll, his vulpine seductress straddling and pinning him with casual ease. Before he could protest, narrow inhuman lips captured his once more, lust-driven urgency in her every movement as she commanded his attention. That supple tongue tangled with his, a taboo kiss that brought his heart to pound and blood rushing in his ears.

Where did his hands go? He wanted to stroke everywhere at once; explore through that exquisite mane, bring her closer with a grip between those alert ears, wander down her finely muscled back… He settled for resting them on her hips, massaging lightly, which brought a purr vibrating into the kiss that curled his toes.

Akane undulated her lithe form, enticing his imagination, paws circling on his chest while her rump ground against the growing tent in his robe. He couldn’t keep up with her wild strength, but the frenzy of her desire bled into him like a drug, alighting his own. He tussled with her kiss, demanding until she allowed him to push into her maw, claiming and exploring among those needle fangs. His fingers tightened on her hips, matching her feral growl with one of his own.

Rrrriippp!

Cool air stung his chest, and as she broke from him, both gasping. The rest of his robe tore open with a second quick swipe of her claws. She flung the sundered fabric away, sitting astride his bared belly like a victorious general, lit by the moon. She started to reach for his underclothes, a gleam in her eyes, before he hastily tugged them down.

“Zorr.” He needed no translation. The smirk outlined by her war-paint, coupled with the condescending pat on his head, said enough. For once, he didn’t bristle at her teasing. Modesty and shame had been left behind long ago, and he had no wish to test the accuracy of her sharp weapons near his tender regions. His exposed manhood twitched, kissed and tantalized by the luxurious fur of her mane.

“What now? You’ll have to forgive m-mmph!”

The paw over his mouth stifled his indignant yelp, which was met by raspy chuckles. Satisfied, she leaned back, keeping him gagged, and leisurely spreading her legs wide. Her other claw dipped between those spread thighs, and Ryo near swallowed his tongue as she fondled the puffy dark lips nestled among a mound of short, dense fur, two claws parting the delicate flesh, the third teasing. Akane’s claw slipped inside, and came out glistening. Soft, inviting, warm… His erection jerked, straining with unsatisfied lust.

“Ark.” Fangs gleamed as she leaned down, painting a wet line across his forehead with her stained claw, marking him, claiming him. Earthy incense curled into his nose. Ryo’s fingers trembled, uncertainty tangling his desire, until she seized his wrist, guided his hand to her womanhood, and cupped his palm to that pulsing, moist heat. “Zor! Zoroo…”

Finally, she removed her paw from his mouth, but he had no more need for words. Parting his fingers, he admired her hidden treasure, slowly rubbing that padded mound. She radiated such fierce need, feminine arousal leaking freely onto his hand. He had no human standard to compare it to, but it didn’t seem so strange; a vertical slit, designed to accept a male. Ready to accept him.

Unbidden, his hips jerked, jostling her, and earning a low chuckle. Beneath his fingertips, firm outer flesh gave way to lush wetness, and her amusement turned to a moan. Ryo’s lips curved. Even her control could be broken, it seemed. He slipped the finger in a bit deeper, feeling out hidden contours, bumping across secret texture. Powerful walls squeezed, sending shivers up his spine. Gods above and below, how would it feel when he–

A firm paw grasped his throbbing shaft, yanking a long groan from him, supple pad teasing his sensitive head. Ryo’s stomach clenched, a familiar tightness building, shooting to the forefront of his senses. How was he already so close? He tried to grab her wrist, gasping with each strong, practiced stroke of her paw. His teeth clenched, fighting to hold against the onrushing storm–

Three strokes, and his resolve broke. His head tilted to the sky, a moan voicing the pleasure cascading through him from head to toe, his release coaxed free with quick, milking tugs while he shuddered and thrust helplessly into her awaiting paw. His skin seemed to be on fire, mist shrouding his mind as his wild spurts slowed to a dribble, met by his lover’s eager paw.

“Zoooooooor.”

Letting his softening member free, she raised her paw to her muzzle, pearly lines dripping from her claws. Eyes fastened on him, her tongue slipped from her mouth, cleaning her paw in languid licks, sliding up one claw, drawing in his essence, drinking it down... Despite his fresh release, Ryo’s body quivered, responded, the primal eroticism of his bestial mistress calling to parts of himself he hadn’t known. Catching his breath, he drew wet fingers from her sex, brought them to his nose. Her essence was intoxicating, at once exotic and instinctively right.

“I’m not letting you get away with that freely.”

She snorted, continuing to treat him to a taboo theater as though it were of little consequence. Ryo’s blood rose. So, she thought to flaunt her experience did she? He was happy to allow her to lead, but he still had some pride. Growling like a beast, he seized her hips, braced his shoulders, and shoved.

Akane nearly toppled, but he steadied her with his knee, ignoring the stab of pain when his bad foot rapped on the floor.

“Zor!”

“Don’t worry, just putting you where I want you.” Ryo shot her a savage grin. A small adjustment of his hips, and his half-hard arousal slipped between her thighs, nudging her exposed entrance. Anticipation held him on the edge of a knife. Undulating against her, his flesh slid across hers, bathing his manhood in her nectar, the warm invitation of that kiss drawing a resurgence. He needed her. Now. Glancing up, he quirked an eyebrow at her.

“What, not going to protest?”

Sitting tall in his lap, moonlight outlined her face in a silver blaze. A matching fire burned in her gaze. Pointed ears flattened, a ferocious growl rumbling in her throat. Lifting her rump, she seized his length, steadied it, and plunged.

Ecstasy met satisfaction. Several inches sunk inside her sopping tunnel, guided by her paw until she could let go, balancing on his chest and riding his hardening shaft. Ryo’s bravado vanished into a pleased moan, mirroring Akane’s hiss. She rolled her hips, gradually working him deeper, welcoming him in until her mound kissed the sweat-flecked tangle of hair carpeting his crotch.

For a precious moment, she rested, eyes slipping closed, head tilted back, giving him a glorious profile atop the erotic view of their joined bodies. They fit together snug, as if they’d been made perfectly for one another. Moist, silky walls masked the powerful muscles gripping his sensitive flesh, quickly urging him back to full arousal. His pulse raced. All he wanted was to stay like this forever. All he wanted was to thrust recklessly into that satin pleasure. All he wanted was… more. More of her.

As his hands found their way to her hips, she shuddered, rose, brought herself to meet him flush once more. Her rippled, supple passage massaged him, pulled wordless cries from his throat. Bracing herself against his chest she withdrew, halting just shy of losing him, his length glistening with her juices, before sliding back down, burying him in her welcome heat.

“Arrk!”

Settling herself, Akane began to bounce on his lap, a gradual, drum-beat rhythm of agonizingly slow parting, followed by eager reunion. Ryo’s fingers dug into the muscle of her hips, earning him a savage grin, and a quick squeeze. He floated on a cloud of bliss, a spurt of his essence marking her yielding passage even as she claimed him, gasps escaping with each powerful roll of her hips.

Did she know she was his first? Probably, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except her. Nothing mattered except them. Ryo surged, meeting Akane’s gyrating body, plunging deep and forcing a snarl of ecstasy from his vulpine lover. A savage grin crept onto his lips, matching her own ferocity. He wanted to feel all of her, give her every bit of himself and make her know that she belonged to him now.

As he did to her.

Urgency dragged them apart, an insatiable hunger within to drive the pleasure to new heights, to chase that growing ecstasy. Ryo’s body felt aflame with need on each agonizing parting, until fierce desire pulled them back together to experience the ecstatic connection. Every kiss of their loins brought a sense of intense satisfaction, a shared joy in the union of their bodies. The intimate bond they forged went beyond the physical delight; there was a resonance between them, one he now saw clearly. It pleased him to share such exquisite bliss with her, and the rapturous expression on her pointed features spoke volumes.

Wet squishing marked their wild gyrations, Akane’s pace rising with their combined lust. Six needlepoints pricked his chest, but he didn’t care, thrusting into her with wild abandon, slave to her demanding growls and snarls. Velvet walls massaged, coaxed, worked his steadily leaking arousal. The tension in his loins roiled, that heavenly release creeping nearer with every passionate shudder. He just had to hold on a bit more… stave off the tightness in his balls, the steady throbbing in his shaft…

Shuddering, Akane tilted her head back and howled, falling to meet his thrust, hilting him as deep as he could reach. Her lush sex gripped, suckled, gushed, drenching him in heated nectar, her shaking body pressing tight, keeping him sheathed in her warmth.

Ryo barely noticed pain colouring the pleasure as sharp claws broke skin. His back arched, grinding himself against her stuffed sex. A long moan escaped him, and he surrendered to the ecstasy, to his lover, release crashing through him with the unstoppable force of an earthquake. His hips quivered, bursts of delight flaring with each pulse, pouring his seed deep inside her. Each twitch brought a surge of satisfaction; blessed relief from the frantic need to join her in this delight. His eyes closed, shutting away all but the incredible feeling, and the sound of her ecstatic panting.

Several quiet moments slipped by, neither of them willing to risk shattering the lingering haze of contentment. Akane’s weight settled, the zoroark stretching out to lie on top of him, and keeping his softening length tucked safely inside her gently gripping sex. She was surprisingly light for all her strength, her body covering him and staving off the cool night air with the comfortable warmth of her silken fur.

Pebbled wetness slid across his cheek, a gentle purr following. Ryo pulled her close, burying his nose in her mane, drawing in her exotic, spicy scent.

“Zor…”

There was no escaping it: They belonged to one another now, body and soul. Together, they could face the world.

 

***

 

Nothing beat a summer sunset over the mountains. Standing and stretching from his place among the freshly tilled garden rows, Ryo tipped the straw hat from his head and wiped the sweat from his brow. He’d never grow tired of that view–a seemingly endless vista, bathed in gold, peaks giving way to mysterious valleys.

He ran his fingers over the pebbled skin of his scalp. It still felt odd, but it was important for monks of the One Accord to shave their heads, as a symbol of their fresh outlook on the world. Eventually, the strangeness would pass. Besides, Akane liked the look for him.

Speaking of…

She stood on the porch, watching him with a smirk. As usual. Letting him do the heavy work! He hobbled towards her, adopting a scowl.

“Keep that up, and you’re cooking and cleaning up after.”

That earned him a shrug and a huffing chuckle. Dropping the smirk in favor of wide-eyed innocence, she pressed a claw to her lips, suckling on the tip with a lewd, wet, slurp.

Shaking his head, he hung his hat by the door and shuffled inside, temporarily escaping her piercing gaze. Truly, her brashness knew no bounds. One of these days, he’d find a way to get the better of her!

Returning to his room to clean up from his efforts, a heavy thumping halted him in the central chamber. Metal on wood.

This was a first, at least, for him. A shadow fell across the floor from behind him, and he looked back at Akane, quirking an eyebrow. “Friend of yours?”

Thunk. Thunk.

She shook her head, and followed him to the monastery's entrance. Ryo hesitated for a moment, then lifted the latch and pushed open the heavy wooden door.

A lone man stood on the doorstep; young, perhaps mid-thirties, wearing tattered clothing. On his hip rested a flat satchel, and his eyes bore the sunken, hollow look of one who has been travelling long on little sleep. Slightly taller than Ryo, his gaze flicked to Akane standing behind him. Whatever he saw made him swallow and lick his lips. A soft chuckle rasped.

“P-pardon, sir. My name is Itsuki, and I’ve come seeking asylum for the night. Perhaps two, if I may be so bold.”

Ryo smiled, shoving the door open wide. “Welcome, friend. Please, come in. We turn none away here.”