Chapter Text
1997
‘I get migraines a lot,’ the little dark-haired boy said, in response to absolutely nothing.
The blonde boy looked over his shoulder, confused by the odd revelation as well as the cheerful way in which it had been delivered.
‘That’s weird,’ he said. He realised a second too late that he meant to say, and should have said, ‘You’re weird.’
‘Yeah, it’s pretty weird,’ the dark-haired boy echoed with a huge smile, happy to have been acknowledged in any way. He tottered along in the wake of the fair-haired boy, who was bigger than him and was walking too fast for him to keep up without jogging.
They were both seven years old. It was lunchtime on a cloudless spring day in Goulston Elementary School.
‘I’m Ken,’ the smaller boy said breathlessly, his voice still upbeat.
The other one said nothing, hoping the kid would take the hint.
‘What’s your name?’ Ken prompted, still grinning.
The fair-haired boy looked down at him in contempt. How cheerful could someone be?
‘Eric,’ he replied stiffly.
‘Are we friends now?’ Ken wanted to know.
‘No.’
‘But you saved Kitsune.’
‘Who?’
Ken held up the little orange fox toy that dangled on the zipper on his canvas lunch box. Eric glanced at it out of the corner of his eye.
A few minutes ago, he had spied the tug of war over the lunch box. Two bigger boys had pushed the dark-haired kid to the ground and nearly made off with their prize before Eric, succumbing to a strange sense of justice that he didn’t think was entirely in keeping with his nature, wrenched the box out of the big kid’s hands.
The teacher on playground duty had sniffed trouble and turned to them, so the other kids didn’t try anything more. After they left, Eric returned the lunch box to the dark-haired boy without even sparing him a proper glance and went on his way. He didn’t have time to waste on annoying runts who got pushed to the ground too easily. It was that small act of heroism which had landed him in this particular fix.
He didn’t know the scuffle had taken place over the fox toy and not the lunch box. A fox toy with a stupid name.
‘They made fun of Kitsune’s name,’ Ken said, as though reading his mind. ‘They said they would throw him in a toilet to see if he could swim.’
Eric frowned slightly.
‘Thank you for saving him!’ Ken added, tripping a little over his own feet before righting himself and catching up again. ‘So we’re friends now, right? Because you saved Kitsune and because I know your name and because you know stuff about me like how I get migraines and how I have a fox named Kitsune —’
‘That doesn’t mean we’re friends,’ interjected Eric, who had grown more and more irritated.
‘Oh!’ said Ken, more surprised than upset.
But he followed Eric right across the playground again, chattering away, his face slightly flushed from the effort of jogging. His smile never left. Eric only managed to shake him when Ken had to stop to tie his shoelace; Eric glanced back and took the opportunity to dart out of sight.
The next day at recess, Ken found him again, to Eric’s eternal annoyance, and shadowed him again. Eric’s friends began to make fun of him as well as his new little charge. Eric was grateful that he and Ken were in different classes. He knew that at least when the bell rang, Ken would be forced to leave his side.
It turned out they were, however, in the same weekly reading group. As they filed into the library that day, Ken saw Eric and his face lit up. When they were divided up into reading circles, Ken asked the teacher if he could switch groups so he could read with Eric. Holding the book they were reading, Ken plonked himself down on the carpet in their circle and waved exuberantly at Eric who sat only three feet away. Eric scowled and returned to his copy of The Little Prince. He was further annoyed at how enthusiastically Ken read out the passages when it was his turn, as though reading was fun and not the biggest waste of time in the world.
But after a while, Eric was faintly surprised to find that The Little Prince made more sense to him when it was Ken’s turn to read it out. The other students read it in a monotone that only heightened how ridiculous the book was. Not Ken, though.
“Come and play with me,” proposed the little prince. “I am so unhappy.”
Ken’s voice was animated and suited the characters well.
“I cannot play with you,” the fox said. “I am not tamed.”
Eric was so deeply engrossed in the unlikely conversation between the prince and the fox that he failed to notice the coincidence of the passage that had fallen to Ken to read. It was only the previous day that Eric had inadvertently rescued Ken’s fox from a watery fate.
An hour later, at home time, Eric happened to notice Ken being led away rather abruptly by a stern-looking man in a suit. His grip on Ken’s hand seemed too tight and his pace was slightly too quick. Eric realised, then, that Ken didn’t smile as much when it got close to home time.
The thought niggled in the back of Eric’s mind on the drive home. His mother didn’t notice, however. Her son took after his quiet, surly father — something that she was always secretly proud of — so she was used to long silences.
The following day, Eric stepped out onto the playground. His friends raced past with Joe’s new soccer ball, calling to him, eager to get to the grassy field beyond. But Eric stood still for a moment and scanned the school grounds. There was no sign of Ken. Sighing, vaguely irritated at himself, Eric tried to ignore his feeling of unease and followed his friends.
Then he heard footsteps. Or rather, he heard a specific set of footsteps that was somehow superimposed over the general patter of footsteps around him. He turned just in time to see Ken trip over his own feet again and go sprawling before getting back up with a smile.
‘I saw a dog this morning!’ he said breathlessly when he finally drew up to Eric. ‘He had yellow hair just like yours! I said his name should be Eric. The woman laughed. His owner.’
As Ken babbled, Eric saw the faint bruise on his arm and the bruise on his leg, neither of which owed to his little fall in the playground. Eric wasn’t old enough to understand what they could mean.
But he was old enough to realise that he was relieved. He realised that a part of him had been worried about Ken since he saw him at home time the previous day. He realised it relieved him to see Ken’s stupid, disproportionate smile, though disproportionate to what, Eric couldn’t be sure. But even at seven, his intuition was correct. It was a smile that wasn’t warranted. It was a smile that deflected all the things that were wrong with the world. All the things lurking beneath the surface.
And so Eric stood there and scowled, trying to funnel his emotions into the appropriate course of action.
‘We’re playing soccer,’ he said gruffly, his expression unchanging.
Ken blinked. ‘Oh,’ he said, genuinely intrigued and nothing else.
Eric made a noise of frustration. ‘Want to play?’
‘Oh!’ Ken said again. Then his eyes widened and his smile changed. ‘Yes!’
Eric turned and headed for the football field without looking back. Ken took a moment to send a quick thank you to his Kitsune before he followed.
1999
Two years passed in the kind of blur that was typical of childhood. Ken became Eric’s shadow, and the pair of them became a familiar sight to students and teachers alike. Eric never paid Ken any more or less attention than any of his other friends, and though it seemed he only begrudgingly took on his new ward, he made no further attempt to shake Ken off.
In those two years, Ken came over to Eric’s place quite often. The first time Eric invited him, it was at the behest of his mother, who felt sorry for the little mixed-race child who didn’t seem to have any other friends and she had urged her son to ask him to a sleepover. Ken had considered the question with wide eyes. And, to Eric’s surprise, he refused.
‘I’m not allowed,’ he said, in a small voice.
But after a few more weeks, Ken came to him one day and said he would be allowed, just once, because he had been a good boy that week.
Eric didn’t think anything of it. He didn’t even particularly want Ken to stay over. He did notice that Ken didn’t seem to have a lot of energy that day, as though a small hole had been poked in his side and the air had left him. But he seemed pleased enough to tell Eric that he had done whatever it was that allowed him to stay over at a friend's place. So Eric told him to bring his toothbrush and pyjamas and toys.
For Ken, that first night he spent in Eric’s room, after being pampered by Eric’s fair-haired mother, Rebecca, who smelled like lavender and talcum powder, was the best memory of his life for many, many years. He devoured the chocolate-chip cookies and laughed whenever Rebecca tried a joke, which was a rare treat for her given the quiet natures of her husband and son.
And Eric was surprised at how much fun he had. Ken was amazed at each toy he unearthed in Eric’s room — even the old action figures that Eric had grown bored of years ago — and each thing seemed to come to life through Ken's eyes. Eric's room was suddenly a battleground in the thirty-second century where cyborgs had taken over. And then, without any warning, the volcano in the corner had erupted and sent them into an ancient age where dinosaurs roamed, and they had to perch on the bed or chairs or other surfaces to avoid the lava that had spread to every square inch of carpet. Eric laughed when Ken toppled from the bed, tipping over the bin along the way and landing on the floor with part of his head inside it.
That night, Ken slept on the floor in a sleeping bag and Eric saw that he held onto Kitsune, his little fox toy, quite strongly in his right hand. Strangely, Eric wasn't embarrassed by the sight. He did, however, find it odd that Ken would have gone to the trouble of undoing it from his lunch box. He wondered if Ken did that every night.
Ken, meanwhile, went to sleep that first night torn between emotions; the sweet high and the safety and security of Eric’s home was pulling against the dread of knowing he would have to return home the following day.
After that first night, Ken came over every month or so for the next few years. Eric began to notice bit by bit that Ken would be less energetic on the days leading up to their sleepovers. He assumed Ken’s parents had him doing extra chores around the house in order to be allowed to stay over.
Eric never went to Ken’s house. Ken never invited him, and Eric never asked. It was a tacitly accepted part of their friendship.
They were both in fourth grade when Ken collapsed.
That day, they left school together. Eric’s mother wasn’t able to pick them up because she had to take Samantha, Eric’s sister, to a ballet recital. But it was only a twenty minute walk to Eric’s place and Ken already had his toothbrush and pyjamas.
Kitsune now dangled off the end of Ken’s bag rather than his lunch box. With Eric by his side, no one picked on Ken any more, and he was free to do and act as he liked. Kitsune no longer had to be hidden in his bag, or in his pencil case or on the zipper on his lunch box. The palm-sized orange fox, who had three tails, now jumped and jostled about on Ken’s backpack with each step.
‘That test was really hard,’ he said.
‘Mm,’ Eric replied.
‘I tried to study yesterday but I had a headache. The kind that becomes a migraine the next day.’
Eric glanced ahead of him where Alison Lee’s ponytail swung back and forth.
‘I hate when a migraine starts in a test,’ Ken chattered on. ‘I already suck at Maths.’
Eric grunted again. Alison caught his eye over her shoulder and smiled. Eric’s heart gave a small thud.
‘It’s still there,’ Ken said, frowning slightly and massaging his temples. Perhaps if he tried to focus on something else it would go away. He looked at Eric. ‘What did you get for the last question?’
‘What?’ Eric said, distracted. He wondered how he could get Alison to look at him again.
It was Ken’s turn to grunt. It was getting harder to keep sight of Eric. The sun was bright. Too bright. The cars driving by were too loud. It was like the school bell was still ringing between his ears.
‘This one,’ he said vaguely, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to focus on his feet. ‘This one… hurts.’ He paused. ‘Eric…’
‘What?’
‘My head hurts.’
Alison happened to hear what he said and cast him a curious glance. Eric grit his teeth. He normally didn’t mind the fact that everyone knew that Ken was his best friend, but he minded very much if Alison Lee thought less of him because of Ken’s weirdness.
‘What’s wrong with you?’ Eric muttered under his breath.
Ken blinked. ‘I have… another migraine —’
‘Will you shut up about your migraines? No one cares about your stupid migraines!’
His voice was too loud, even though he had spoken in a low, angry hiss.
‘Yeah,’ Ken replied automatically. Apologetically. Eric was always right. ‘Sorry.’
And then he fell.
Eric was far more focused on Alison than Ken, so he didn’t notice until he heard Ken hit the ground. He then turned to see Ken sprawled on his side on the grass by the footpath. His mouth was slightly open. Kitsune hung forward, almost touching Ken’s neck.
Alison’s hand flew to her mouth. Everyone stopped and turned.
Someone else — an older student — crouched in front of Ken before Eric even thought to move. Still shocked, as though he didn’t recognise the limp form on the ground as his friend, Eric stood there for a few more seconds.
That numbness remained when Ken refused to wake up. It didn’t seem like it was really happening. As he knelt on the sidewalk beside Ken and other voices and faces said things and did things and phones were taken out and an ambulance was called, Eric only remembered what he had said to Ken before he passed out. He remembered that Ken had apologised, of all things, before promptly hitting the floor.
And he carried that guilt all the way to the hospital. He rode in the front seat of the ambulance because the paramedics didn’t want him to see anything that might happen in the back. Ken’s backpack was on the floor pressed between Eric's knees. Kitsune swung from side to side with each turn. The sirens howled. Eric stared straight ahead.
At the hospital, he had a glimpse of Ken being wheeled out of sight. He was told to sit somewhere, so he sat. When a nurse asked, he robotically recited his home phone number and then Ken’s. Rebecca arrived before Ken’s mother did. It was the first time Eric had ever seen her. Saiko was a small Japanese woman who seemed too young to have a child Ken’s age.
Ken was given the all-clear and Eric went in to see him shortly after Saiko was allowed in.
It was the first time anything like that had happened to Ken. The doctors had a complicated name for it that started with B and Eric didn’t register it. His mortification, his apology, was stuck somewhere in his throat. He hated the sight of tubes going into Ken’s nose. He was still holding Ken’s backpack.
Rebecca offered her support to Saiko whose gaze seemed vague and distracted, but she accepted with thanks. As they spoke, Eric approached Ken’s side. Not knowing what else to do, he put Ken’s backpack on a nearby table.
‘Thanks,’ Ken said weakly. His smile was slow, hampered by the breathing tube, but it spread wide — as wide as it always was. And Eric felt all sort of things that he didn’t understand. Mostly he felt foolish for having thought that Ken had been in any real danger.
From that point on, for years to come, if Ken ever looked like he had one of his migraines coming, Eric would ensure he was taken care of. That one experience when they were both nine left a specific tenderness in Eric that was removed from his overall gruffness, sometimes callousness, where Ken was concerned. It was something Ken would lean on guiltily, though he never once exploited it.
When Ken’s brief stint in hospital was coming to a close, Eric went to visit him again. Ken was looking like his usual self again. He was waiting for his father to pick him up. Rebecca gave him his favourite cookies in brightly wrapped cellophane and said she would wait in the hall. Eric gave him the homework he had missed over the past few days.
Ken sat cross-legged on the bed. Kitsune was unclipped from Ken’s bag and he held the toy in his lap.
‘It’s thanks to you that I got better,’ Ken declared.
‘What?’ Eric said, feeling the onsets of a scowl that was part incredulous and part self-conscious.
‘Because you picked up Kitsune that day when I fainted. And he was in the ambulance when you rode with me, all the way to the hospital.’ Ken’s voice was as lively as ever; a spry matter-of-factness that made each word sound true. ‘I’m glad you didn’t leave my bag behind. I was fine because he was in the ambulance.’
‘That’s stupid,’ Eric informed him.
‘Maybe,’ Ken said brightly. ‘But Kitsune has always helped people. He helped them get food in old times. And he has favourites and stuff that he follows. That part Grandma said a lot of people don’t know, but she knows, because she had a Kitsune that followed her. And she said she passed him onto me.’
It still sounded stupid to Eric but now that Ken had spoken of his grandmother and something that sounded suspiciously like a religion, he wasn’t bold enough to repeat his opinion. Besides that, he was somewhat pleased that Ken had praised him for something that had happened that day. It helped ease the guilt. He stared at the beads of the fox’s eyes, and the three tails. Eric had grown used to this strange number over the years, but it suddenly seemed prominent then.
‘Why does he have three tails?’
‘'Cause he’s getting older. They can have nine tails, some of them! The really old ones.’
‘Oh. So he gets a new tail every year?’
‘No, every hundred years. Or every thousand years. I can’t remember what Grandma said.’
Eric stared at the unassuming little fox with newfound awe.
‘Kitsune…’ Ken began, his voice very slightly different. ‘Kitsune can’t stop bad things from happening.’ He hesitated. ‘But if he’s nearby, I know that I — that it’ll be okay.’ Ken then glanced up with a smile. ‘He’s kind of like you.’
Eric blinked in confusion. He didn’t understand what he could possibly have in common with a small, ridiculous fox toy.
The door opened suddenly and Ken’s father came in. He was wearing the suit that Eric always saw him wearing when he came to pick Ken up from school. His face was square and there was a single vertical crease between his eyebrows. It was the first and only time Eric saw him up close. It left an impression.
And Ken’s smile was gone. He looked like he did every day at school over the past two years when it got close to home time and something seemed to dim the brightness from within, like a dial had been turned.
2001
Ken’s father died when Ken was eleven. He told Eric quietly over the phone.
Eric and his mother came to Ken's house with flowers. It was a Japanese wake and they felt a little out of place. Eric still didn’t know what to say to Ken. He didn’t know how to react when he saw his friend’s ashen face. It was the first time he had ever seen him like that, like all of the home times over the years had gathered together and concentrated in him in one burst.
Saiko was as quiet and reserved as ever, and she bowed a lot that day. She bustled about without giving too much of an indication that her husband had died. She answered questions about her husband’s health in accented English, and about the stroke that finally took his life.
‘Yes, very sudden,’ she would agree. ‘Very sudden.’
When there was a lull and no one seemed to be paying them any attention, Ken and Eric went upstairs. Eric stared at the bare walls of Ken’s room in slight shock. Aside from the books lining the shelves, there was almost no colour there. It didn’t seem to suit him at all.
Ken sat on the bed and passed Eric the new game boy he had gotten the previous week and never had a chance to show him. Eric took it and sat beside him. The sharp, high sounds of the game seemed to be coming from far away.
‘You have to press…’ Ken reached over and showed him how to start. ‘And then press A when you see the —’
‘What’s that?’
‘That’s the thing you have to wait for. Now you press A.’
‘Oh. Cool.’
‘Yeah.’
Eric guided his little avatar through the first level.
‘This is cool.’
‘Yeah,’ Ken said with a small smile. And then, after only a slight pause, ‘I’m glad my father's dead.’
Eric’s gaze veered away from the game boy only enough to look at the side of Ken’s left knee. The words were seamlessly attached onto the end of their conversation about a little animated gorilla charging its way through its electronic world. Eric was too afraid to look at him. If he saw Ken’s face properly, then the words would become real. It would mean that there had always been a big, dark monster hiding under Ken’s bed for years. One which had only just died. It would mean that Eric would have to face something that scared him on many levels, the worst of it being the fact that bad things happened to people who didn’t deserve them. And it would mean he, Eric, was responsible, at least partly, for not having stopped it.
‘Does that make me bad?’ Ken asked.
He was crying. Eric could hear it, even though Ken was doing it quietly. He knew he ought to do something. He knew this was when people — bigger people, better people than him — would fuss and hug and say the right words. But Eric was eleven, and his best friend’s father had just died, and he didn’t know what to do.
‘No,’ Eric replied.
He then noticed the little fox on Ken’s bedside table. He remembered something Ken had told him two years ago.
Kitsune doesn’t stop bad things from happening. But if he's nearby, I know that it'll be okay.
The room held them in silence, broken by the occasional soft sound; distant voices wafting up from downstairs and the pings on the screen in front of them. Even if a big, dark monster had existed and had lived under Ken’s bed that whole time, it was dead now. It was dead now, and so surely it meant that the bad things would stop.
So Eric kept playing the game that Ken had handed to him.
And Ken, for his part, was just happy to have Eric in his room.