Chapter 3: Fox's Tragedy 3
Three years passed with feelings of anxiety and melancholy, an unconventional mix. Just days before his birthday, the pastor sent Rey to go pick up some general necessities: flour, salt, and oil were at the top of the list. He had left with a bit of a protest and one of Tanaka's odd songs going round in his head. Though he soon found himself humming as he went down the little hill on which the church sat. Below he could see the village with its houses of wood and stone and a little open market in the center.
The sun had long since risen in a blue sky but a light dew was still noticeable in the grass. People in common and uncolorful clothing scuttered around going about their day. However, as Rey got into the village itself he noticed a few odd and concerning looks from the few people not too busy to notice him. Mothers turned their children's attention away as he walked through the market and into a larger building, at least in comparison to the others. Inside a tall man stood behind a counter of chipped wood. A scuffed hat covered his eyes and a pipe poked out of his thin lips, he didn't so much as glance up when Rey approached. "Oh," he gave a tiny laugh, "pastor's kid is it?"
"Good morning," he responded politely.
"Indeed, indeed," the man replied as Rey handed him the paper on which the purchase list had been inscribed. "Let's have a look here…," he got up and grabbed a duo of ragged sacks and a paper bag. "This should be everything," he said as he slammed them down on the counter. "Three and a half- eh… three silver." Rey reached into his pocket and pulled out three chips of rough-looking silver.
"Here."
"Uh let's see…," he turned the coins over in his calloused fingers. "Great thanks, and eh, good day." He dismissed Rey with a wave not even looking in his direction. With a sigh, he heaved the goods and exited the shop stepping onto the worn dirt. Again to him, the wind whispered of memory yet again he gave it no attention.
"Hey, it's Rey!" Called a voice in a manner clearly unfriendly. Rey looked to his right to see a trio of boys, all about his age, approaching. They wore mischievous grins on their dirtied faces. "Isn't that a girl's name?" Rey recognized the taunt but didn't feel like entertaining this.
"I think it can be used for both," he replied.
"How come you're not around anymore?"
"I..."
"I don't think he likes us."
"That's not it."
"Hoh? Then what? Pastor's orphan is too holy for the common people?" The tallest taunted again. The jab hurt him, he saw the pastor as a father and recognized he had been more welcoming than he needed to be. He silently clenched a fist.
"I just thought you guys didn't like me..." There was a laugh from the group.
"Well he isn't wrong there," said the shortest. He then saw the closest boy raise his arm, clearly to strike him unprompted. Oddly though it played out in slow motion yet he couldn't bring himself to move. With a painful impact, the fist hit him squarely in the stomach sending him stumbling backward. He felt sick, as he looked up again he saw a foot flying towards his face. Again he couldn't rather didn't want to move. And so again he was sent backward by a blow to the face.
"Not gonna do anything?" One taunted again. Blood ran down from Rey's nose as he regained his vision from a blur. He was angry of course, and frustrated, a frustration that had been building for a while like a knot being tied tighter and tighter in his gut. And so when he saw the motion of an incoming punch he sort of snapped. Just like the others, it seemed slow to him but now he was able to move just fine. He unclenched his fist and grabbed the wrist of the boy assaulting him. With a violent and instantaneous twist of his whole body, Rey uprooted him from where he stood and forcefully threw him to the side.
To Rey, he had no more than thrown the boy off his balance, but as the others backed away with wide eyes filled with horror, he realized what he had done. To his right, the direction in which he had thrust his assailant was a warehouse-like building made entirely of old and splintering wood. A human-sized hole was apparent in the wall. He had thrown the boy through it, inside he could see a motionless lump.
One of the boys, clearly more frantic than the others began yelling at him. "D-demon! He must be demon-possessed! The pastor must throw them into him after exorcisms!"
"Look!" Cried another. "Not even his shadow is human!" Rey glanced at the ground behind him in apprehensive fear. The long shadow he cast on the dirt was accompanied by a duo of arcs with no explanation.
"No…," he started with tears welling up in his eyes, "no… I'm not a demon..." The boys turned and ran kicking up dust in their sprint.
"Demon!" They yelled as they went leaving Rey standing alone.
"No… I'm not..." he whispered. In the silence of the scene, the cold wind whispered back.
"Little fox don't worry you are no demon, simply mine. Do you not remember?" His legs became weak and queasily he dropped to his knees. A tear streamed down his face as he struck the ground in frustration.
"I don't, I don't remember damnit! W-what should I remember?" He cried quietly. "What am I?" The wind seemed to chuckle at his state as it finished blowing through, disappearing over the horizon. He returned to the church in a shaken state. His eyes still wide but mouth sealed in a quivering line he walked through the wooden pews of the church and up to the ornate altar. For a moment he stopped and gazed at the stained glass cross behind it. The sun did not shine through it now, it sat looking old and dirtied, dull even, despite the colorful glass it was made of.
Again tightening his fists, Rey found he couldn't bring himself to look at it much longer, for it held nothing for him now. And just like he was a demon it repulsed him. A detail that terrified him to the bone.
Exiting through the back door he found the pastor again sitting at the table, a paper in his hand. Gregory looked up immediately, his expression falling as he saw Rey's face, still wearing tears and blood. "Rey, what's wrong?" He asked in frantic concern as he got up.
"I… They…," he tried to speak but broke down crying an ugly cry. The embrace of the pastor did nothing to calm him nor soothe his condition.
"I'm sorry my son, I'm sorry," he paused. "I don't know how… I don't know what I need to do to help you." It took no time for Rey to soak the pastor's sleeves as he wiped his face in his own tears. "Even God won't answer me."
"M-maybe he thinks I'm a demon too," Rey managed through his loud sobs.
"I'm su-" He cut him off.
"You're sure he doesn't, right?" He looked up with a twisted and sad expression. "Right?!" He pulled himself away and stared at the silent pastor. Gregory opened his mouth to speak but was met with a loud bang as Rey slammed the table. "Does it matter?..." he croaked.
"I..." Rey shook his head before rushing out the door and to his room. Nearly slamming the door on his way in he threw himself on the bed, which struggled under the sudden weight. With self-pity, he put himself to sleep long before the sunset.
Over the next two days, he would leave merely for necessities and only responded to the pastor and Tanaka with short answers. His eyes, which had dark rings under them, carried messy and twisted emotion. The pastor was only a little different, unannounced to Rey he prayed in front of the stained glass at every free moment. Thankfully it seemed the most unfortunate of the boys was alive at least as no one came knocking about the incident, that or their story of a demon wasn't believed.
"I have an answer you know," said Ms. Tanaka one evening, "one for the boy but you won't like it much." Gregory returned a cold glare.
"I won't have you influencing him with your beliefs," he stated. Tanaka grinned.
"Even if you yourself believe the same as I?"
"I do not!" He affirmed as Tanaka laughed at his fervor.
"You only say that for yourself, because life is simpler that way, more pleasant and right in your mind." The pastor gave no response to this. "Tomorrow is the kid's birthday, take him somewhere, try to brighten him up at least. You can't have his emotions turning him into a wreck." Gregory sighed.
"I planned on it, I'll drag him if I have to."
"Good..." Ms. Tanaka seemed lost in her own head, and for a moment the creaking of her chair was the only accompaniment to the crackling fire. The pastor stared at the flames for a minute while taking a sip from a steaming mug. Abruptly Tanaka got up with her fox carving in hand. She placed it on the mantle of the fireplace with an odd look. "There, I'm afraid I might whittle it down if I keep turning it in my hand. Won't do much good on me now anyway."
"What do you mean?" Gregory asked with a raised eyebrow. She shrugged and sighed as she sat back down.
"What good is coin to a dead man," she responded with a blank but strangely concerning expression.
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