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Kurogawa Marise, drummer for the band Dark Lucretia, was fairly certain he wasn’t where he was supposed to be. The fact that he was laying on rain soaked pavement rather than on their ship was a dead giveaway.
The last things he clearly remembered were taking one of his painkillers for the migraine forming behind his eyes and going back to his Switch to see if he could finally hatch a shiny Galarian Slowpoke. He’d felt dizzy, then the world collapsed into riots of color and blurs of motion. His head ached even worse now, and Marise had the feeling their asshole bass guitarist had switched his medications with something Sferkkaan for shits and giggles. Whining a little, Marise opened his eyes.
His brain screeched in protest at being made to work, then focused on his hand that was within his field of vision. Clearly he was still suffering the effects of whatever he’d been dosed with. From one moment to the next his hand looked completely normal or oddly long fingered with almost clawlike nails. A shakudo ring shaped like a three tailed fox clutching its middle tail in its mouth and wrist cuff with running foxes etched into it were also present in both versions of his sight. Marise knew he’d never seen them before and wouldn’t wear them if he had, since his skin was acidic enough to eat most metals fairly fast. So either he’d robbed some jeweler or done something really stupid.
With a groan, he pushed himself up with his other arm, stopping to stare again. It wasn't the shakudo bracelet of pink jade sakura blossoms and purple jade plums or the fact that every two seconds he saw a rucked back kimono sleeve embroidered with foxes and bamboo instead of his shirts. It was the tattoo that looked like it had always been on his arm that caught his attention. Two siamese cats caught play fighting in mid-air were on his forearm, both of them unusual. The leaping ones color points were a soft lilac grey instead of the usual dark brown, and the defending ones were calico while her pupils were huge with only a thin rim of blue iris. Though they were two tailed to indicate they were nekomata, Marise recognized both of them. He’d raised them at different points of his life, lost both of them to death. There were no pictures of the older one, yet both were recreated perfectly in a tattoo he had no memory of getting.
“Khonsu. Shenhua.” He whispered, naming them. It must have been his imagination that their tails twitched, that he heard a demanding yowl and a quiet little ‘meweh’ sound. Then someone with a thick Sferkkaan accent spoke, startling him.
“Well now, what we got here? Little Outworlder, no one tell you not to try things might make you spirit walk out of control? You a mess, boy.” Marise raised his head slowly to look up at the dark skinned Sferkkaan who was looming above him with an amused look. Something of his confusion must have shown on his face as the Sferkkaan tutted at him.
“No, they don’t tell you nothing, do they? Jus’ let you go wanderin’ off too young even know what you doin’. Well, you listen to this old ohwendai man, to old Bonnikaar. I get you fixed up, send you back to the rest with your tails tucked away.” Marise blinked, then latched onto part of what Bonnikaar had said.
“Tails?” The old Sferkkaan tutted again, grabbing an arm and hauling him up.
“Yes, tails. You not even know they hangin’ out, boy?” Marise tilted his head, wondering if Sferkkaan drugs could drive one mad.
“I don’t have tails.” Bonnikaar stopped and looked at him.
“Ah, there the answer. No ohwendai ever even tell you what sleep in you, you not know what might happen. No worries, I help you close it down, figure it out.” With that he dragged Marise into what appeared to be a bar of some kind and sat him down on a stool.
“You sit here, I go get things help you lock this down for now. Don’t take nothing from no one else. Not hunting your scrawny butt down you do and go running off again.” With that he strode off into a back room, leaving Marise sitting on the stool feeling pole axed.
What just happened?
*
Bonnikaar kept an eye on the outworlder while he worked up a simple charm to lock down the boys constantly shifting form. Calurchi shell to hide away what shouldn’t be seen, a few odds and ends to make the magic stick better, some scribe’s weed ink to overwrite what other’s saw. Through it all the boy sat quietly on the stool, eyes with pupils so wide he couldn’t tell what color the kids eyes were fixed on nothing. The only clear thing about the boys spirit form were the three long and bushy tails lashing about behind the boy, always out of his sight. The left was pitch black, the middle a rusty red, and the right an odd silvery color. On occasion a pair of large triangular ears with the fur in a patchwork of similar colors would appear and twitch for a second before disappearing again.
He felt old watching the boy. Honestly, what ohwendai man let a spirit born get to near full adulthood without protections? Any opposing tribe’s ohwendai could overwhelm him, send him into a frenzy where he might hurt his own. Or worse, steal him away for their own tribe’s gain. Not to think of the wreck the Grey Boys would have made of him. Bonnikaar went back out, looping the charm onto the same grey black chain that held a pendant of a fan with delicate off world flowers and a teardrop shaped piece of polished blue and black striped gemstone around the youth’s neck. The boy’s form stopped shifting, the tails vanished as the form he was born in in the physical realm reasserted itself. Bonnikaar patted the kid idly on the head, grinning a little at the sullen look.
“Now, now cub. You much too young take on an old ohwendai man like me. Though maybe I teach you a few tricks, yes? So you not go streakin’ down the streets like that again, no?” The boy smiled at him, quick and mischievous in a way that warmed Bonnikaar’s heart.
“If you can spare the time Old Man, I’d love to.”
*
Marise sighed as he sat behind his drums on the stage, eyeing one of the amplifier plants warily. The thing was shivering madly, large pods on it aimed at the stage with an almost cheerful menace. Then Nobuko gave the signal and they were off into their first song. He almost forgot about the plant until a motion from it made him turn his head.
His surprised and horrified expression as Trilby let loose his pollen was a meme for months on both Earth and Sferkkaa.
While Nobuko ranted wildly and stormed off the stage, Marise took the mic as the road crew stopped Mitsuru from walloping the plant with the stand and spoke.
“Fun fact for the natives, parents please cover your little pitchers ears. In my homeland we call what just happened bukkake and plenty of otaku would pay good money to have the footage. Now I’m going backstage to clean up and try not to think about the fact our playing made the plant so… happy.” He marched off the stage, grabbing Akira along the way who was muttering ‘the plant jizzed on me’ in horrified tones under his breath. This was turning out to be a disaster.
*
The daeha eyed the two offworld creatures that had helped it drag off the man who would have killed its brother’s mate warily. The two, both females, eyed him back, one sticking her nose up in the air. The other made a quiet little sound then delicately tore a large chunk of the man’s liver off and offered it to the daeha. It took it gracefully, amused at the others flirting attempts.
It hoped they would be back next year.