Chapter One: The Wanderer and the Wisecrack

One moment, you’re a sitting duck staring at your own youthful reflection in a river, trying to make sense of your new life and body (which was still kind of freaking me out in a cosmic sorta way).

Here's a play-by play at how my first year went in the 'Tutorial Zone' of Altheria.

Week 2: Found a valley full of fat deer. Also found out it belongs to a particularly aggressive mountain cat. Proceeded to retreat slowly.

Month 2: Figured out the best fishing spots; snapped many, many precious lines. Also figured out that the local otters have no fear. Lost a perfectly good trout in a battle I refuse to talk about.

Month 5: Learned which plants here are edible. More importantly, learned which ones aren’t. A very necessary lesson. I'm not a huge fan of fungus anyway.

Month 9: Discovered a ravine filled with old ruins. 100% not my problem. Probably cursed. Definitely didn't wanna risk dying a second time. I also briefly did some trading with royalty in Aggadonia—turns out it’s one of the most ridiculously extravagant continents out there, overflowing with self-important nobles who think they’re the center of the universe.

Month 12: I know these lands like the back of my now teenage hands. what used to be soft and boyish has now become rugged and rough. In my old life I'd be begging for moisturizer.

I don't think they have that here.

All I'm saying is that somehow—against all odds, and despite my lack of initial enthusiasm—I’d survived.

I didn't get any achievements in the bottom right corner of my HUD but I did get a warm and fuzzy feeling, and that wasn't just the ancient pirate rum talking.

Because what.

I slowly stood back up, feeling a block of ice in my chest.

"You're sopping wet too, where'd you even come from?"

He shook himself off—directly onto me—then waddled onto a stump.

“Yeah, well, that tends to happen when you come out of a hot spring.”

I wiped my face with the back of my sleeve.

“You were in my hot spring?”

He smirked. “Ohhh, sure, sure. Your hot spring. Yeah, buddy, you invented warm water.”

I barely heard him. My HUD was already open, scanning him like my life depended on it. Name, status, class—anything to explain why a goddamn tanuki was holding a conversation with me.

→ Name: Mori
→ Species: Tanuki (Cursed)
→ Tame Status: Unable to Tame

I squinted. “‘Unable to tame?’ What kind of—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Doing that's a waste of time it's not gonna tell you much.” The tanuki waved a paw dismissively, already climbing onto a stump.

“Must be some big disappointment, huh? Bet you were hoping for a cute little sidekick. Well, spoiler alert, you can't tame me.”

I was trying to decide whether I was hallucinating or if I had just discovered a major system exploit.

“Alright,” I muttered, gesturing at him. “Go on, then. Explain yourself.”

“Gladly!” He plopped down onto a rock like it was his campfire, swiping my roasted rabbit off the stick and taking a bite.

“The name’s Mori. I’m what you’d call a free agent. I belong to nobody, sometimes not even nature.”

I stared at him, deadpan.

Mori kept chewing.

“...You’re just gonna steal my dinner like that?”

“Listen, man. You think I want to eat C-tier rabbit? No. But life’s unfair. I’m cursed, you see.”

“Oh, you’re cursed?” I said, crossing my arms. “Buddy, I died and got dumped in the woods with nothing but an overpowered skill and my crippling lack of social skills. I think I win the tragic backstory competition.”

Mori snorted. “Oh, sure. Boo hoo, I got superpowers and a cool new life in Fantasyland. You ever try getting actually cursed? ‘Cause I was. That’s why you can’t tame me.”

I blinked.

“Right."

Mori hopped onto my shoulder—completely uninvited—and gestured at nothing in particular.

“Yeah, see, normally animals like me? You could probably tame ‘em. Y’know, get a nice stat boost, maybe a fluffy friend. But me? Nope. Some jackass put a curse on me, so I’m completely untameable. So now I just hang out.”

“Hang out?”

“Yeah, y’know. See the world, eat people’s food, offer sage wisdom... By the way, you got any pickles?”

I rubbed my temples. “You’re telling me you’re literally cursed to be an annoying free agent, and you just... decided to show up here?”

Mori yawned. “I mean, what can I say? You looked lonely. Figured I’d do my good deed for the day.”

I inhaled sharply through my nose.

Peace was like the wind in this world. Fleeting.

So's my sanity now that I think about it.

The sky darkened and night soon fell across the forest.

I retreated into my self-made cabin—a fine shelter held together by sturdy logs, vanity, and a blatant disregard for any semblance of modern-day building codes.

No sooner had I set foot inside than Mori, my ever-present, wisecracking tanuki, made his grand entrance.

“You call this a cabin?” he drawled, idly poking a claw into a knothole. A cold breeze whistled through, ruffling his whiskers. “I’ve seen termite colonies with better structural integrity. This place is one stiff breeze away from becoming dust.”

I kicked off my boots and scowled. “Harsh, I'm still working on it.”

"Regressively, maybe.” He snorted.

Rolling onto his back, his eyes roamed the ceiling where moonlight seeped through an opening with a transparent tarp overtop.

“Is that a skylight? How charming. Nothing says ‘cozy woodland retreat’ like hypothermia and a front-row seat to the next storm.”

“You’re welcome to sleep outside,” I muttered, yanking the bedroll out from under him. Mori flopped onto the dirt floor with all the grace of an overfed cat, completely unbothered.

“Oh no no no no,” he expressed in mock horror.
“The downgrade from ‘hovel’ to ‘mud’ would be devastating.”

He hopped onto the stump I used as a nightstand, peering at my craftsmanship like an appraiser at an auction. “Did you build this during a seizure? The walls are leaning in three different directions.”

I collapsed onto the bedroll.

“Wolves aren’t big on aesthetics.”

Mori snorted again. 

Even wolves have standards. Even they’d take one look at this place and decide it’s not worth the calories.”

He sniffed the air, nose wrinkling. “Also, what is that smell? Wet dog? Regret? Both?”

“That’s you,” I snapped, pulling my blanket over my shoulders.

“Lies. My fur is a delicately cursed blanket of fluff.”

He leapt to a sagging shelf, sending a clay cup clattering to the floor.

“Oop. Butterfingers.”

“You are worse than the beasts out there in the fields.” I groaned.

“You're quite the flatterer,” Mori retorted as he pranced along the rafters, shaking a fresh layer of dust right onto my face.

“Admit it, you love the ambiance. The mildew! The drafts!" I swatted at him.

“You're just nitpicking for the sake of nitpicking! Why are you like this?” I demanded.

Landing beside me, Mori replied, “Because, buddy, if I don’t mock your slice of paradise, who will? Face it: without me, you’d just be a hermit talking to cobwebs. At least I’m a captive audience.”

A beat of silence passed before I asked flatly,

“…Are you done?”

He squinted at the front door.

“Is that… a mushroom growing by the doorjamb?”

“Bedtime, Mori,” I said, already tired of the banter.

“Sure, sure. Rest well, partner.”

He curled into a smug little ball on the ground.

I blew out the lantern, and somewhere in the dark, a moth flitted past my ear as sleep finally claimed us both.

The next morning, still blinking away at the remains of a restless night punctuated by Mori’s endless commentary, I woke to find—much to my dismay (or perhaps, resigned amusement), that Mori had already taken up residence on my bed.

There he was: busy pilfering from my stash of dried fruit and stuffing his face like a careless canid with no sense of personal boundaries.

I stared. He stared back, completely unapologetic.

"Nice bed you got here, fella."

"Oh so now you like my cabin?"

"It's grown on me, much like that fungus on your front door."

I sighed. "So, uh. You're just gonna stay here now?"

Mori crunched obnoxiously on a piece of dried apple.

"Yup."

"Just like that?" I asked.

"Uh-huh."

Rubbing my temples, I continued,

"Okay. Ground rules."

Waving a paw dismissively, Mori began, "Yeah, yeah. No stealing your food—"

"You're literally eating my food right now," I pointed out.

"—no starting fires, no biting people unless they deserve it, blah blah blah. I get it, I get it."

Folding my arms, I pressed,

"And?"

He blinked up at me, then sighed dramatically.

"And I promise not to crap in the house."

"Good." I collapsed onto the floor with a grunt, utterly exhausted.

"Because I swear, if I have to wake up and clean up after you first thing in the morning, I will personally find a way to uncurse you just to make you someone else’s problem."

Mori snorted. "Joke’s on you, buddy. My curse is for good, you’re stuck with me."

"Great," I muttered. "So I survived death, got dumped into a fantasy world, and my grand reward is a talking tanuki who freeloads and eats all my rations."

Mori grinned broadly.

"See? Now you're getting it!"

I stared at the ceiling, regretting every life decision that had led me to this moment.

"So, what’s your big plan, anyway?" Mori asked, rolling onto his side. "You just gonna live out here forever, being a weird forest hermit? Real compelling protagonist material, by the way."

I exhaled sharply. "I don't know. Survive, I guess."

He squinted. "That’s it?"

"That’s it," I repeated.

He chewed on another dried apple slice, looking vaguely unimpressed.

"Man, you gotta aim higher, have some purpose or something. Why not get revenge? Unravel some dark conspiracy? Maybe ascend to godhood?"

Tch. Purpose? What a load of crap. I existed—plain and simple. Although, as much as I loathed being schooled by this... thing, maybe just surviving wasn’t enough. Maybe I needed to start figuring out what the hell I was doing here.

I stared at him blankly.

Mori shook his head.

"Lame. But fine. Do whatever. I’ll be here."

I sat up, earnest confusion lining my face.

"No, see, that’s the part I still don’t get. You don’t have to be here. You could go literally anywhere else."

"Yeah, but why would I? You got food, a roof, and also food," Mori replied, his tone as indifferent as ever. "You're also the first person I, uh, happened to stumble upon out here, and nearest food is best food when you're me."

I groaned and flopped back onto my bed.

"So what else can you actually do besides eat my rations and critique my home-building skills?"

Mori’s grin widened mischievously.

"Oh, you’re gonna love this. When I get pissed—like, really pissed—I get… bigger."

I did not like the sound of that.

"Define bigger."

He tapped his chin, considering.

"You ever see a bear?"

"...Yes?"

"Okay, okay. You ever see a huge bear made of, uh, nightmare fuel?"

"...Oh."

"Yeah. And hey, at least the second half of my curse is actually not a total dud." He nodded.

I stared at him, my mind cycling through every possible way this could go south.

A talking tanuki was one thing—untamable, snarky, and unpredictable was another. And if his anger triggered some kaiju-sized rampage… absolutely horrid.

Deep down, though, I knew this wasn’t the last I’d see of him and that he was dead set on living here.

"Anyway, you’re absolutely right," Mori continued, stretching his little arms as if sizing up a house he was thinking about buying. "I am sticking around, and I’m not going anywhere. This is seriously a sweet pad you got here, I take my words back from last night whatever-your-name-is… What is this, oak? Spruce?"

I squinted.

"My name is Shiro. And how’d you know what I was thinkin’?"

The tanuki gasped, clapping his paws together in feigned delight.

"Ahaha! I even guessed what your internal monologue was about! You totally look like the type to do that sort of thing." He pointed at me. "Make sure you say nice things about me to whoever it is you’re talking to in there."

I pressed a hand to my forehead, feeling the early stages of a headache.

"I—what? No. That’s not how this works. This isn’t a—" I gestured vaguely. "You can’t just—"

"Can’t just what?" he asked with a smirk. "Exist? Because, buddy, spoiler alert: I do. And now I’m your problem."

I groaned.

"You don’t have to be."

He gasped in mock horror, pressing a paw to his chest.

"Wow. Wow. Already trying to get rid of me before noon? Cold-blooded, man. Real unforgiving."

"I meant be less problematic, you know, for my sake?" I clarified.

Mori squinted at me as if I’d just informed him that water was dry.

"Ah, I see. You want me to be less problematic. Yeah, no, I get it. I suppose I could, though that'd be like saying ‘Hey, Mori, could you be a tanuki but, y’know, less of a tanuki?’"

I sighed, rubbing my temple.

"I feel like my life was simpler before you showed up."

Mori nodded, feigning deep thought.

"Yeah, yeah, that tracks. Like when you find a weird mole on your back and think, ‘Hmm, I was happier before I noticed that.’ But hey, now that you know, you kinda have to deal with it. That’s me. I’m your weird mole."

I stared.

"That’s… mortifying."

He shrugged.

"I think you mean, 'Mori-fying,' and hey, you’re the one wishing I wasn’t a problem. I’m just saying, Shiro, sometimes life hands you a talking tanuki, and sometimes that tanuki refuses to pay rent."

I groaned.

"You could at least try to be helpful."

His ears perked up as he launched into another monologue.

"Oh, I am helpful!" He gestured at himself. "I provide a valuable service. I take all your problems, bundle ‘em up nice and neat, and then—wham—I become such a pain in that flat rear end of yours that suddenly your other problems don’t seem so bad."

I squinted incredulously.

"That’s… not helpful at all."

"Agree to disagree," Mori said with a dismissive wave.

"I mean, sure, some people want solutions to their problems, but that’s kinda boring, isn’t it? You solve one problem, another pops up—it’s a whole thing. But me? I’m consistent. You always know exactly what you’re getting."

Crossing my arms, I deadpanned,

"A headache?"

He grinned mischievously.

"A free headache. You’re welcome."

As the morning soldiered on, it became painfully clear that, for better or worse, my life had just gotten a whole lot more complicated.