A fox

Yoshio stared into the bowl of ramen Makio had made him, lazily swirling the noodles with his spoon. He wasn't really hungry—his mind seemed far too preoccupied to focus on eating.

"Master, is the ramen not to your taste today? I can prepare something else if you'd like," Makio asked, his concern evident. His own bowl had long been empty, but Yoshio hadn’t even taken more than a few bites.

Yoshio shook his head slightly, still lost in thought. "No, it's fine. I'll finish it later. I'm just... not very hungry today." Only small details like lack of appetite gave it away that something was bothering him.

Makio, ever perceptive, probed carefully. "If something is troubling you, perhaps you would like to talk about it?"

Yoshio glanced up briefly, then back at the bowl. "You can take the day off, Makio," he said after a pause. "I'll be heading out soon anyway. Oh, and if you don't mind, pick up some more pudding on your way back." He looked embarrassed asking about it.

Makio, however, didn't show any reaction beyond a polite nod. "Of course, Master." He stood, taking his bowl and leaving the room, his footsteps light and swift.

Alone, Yoshio sighed and set his spoon down. The food would remain unfinished. His eyes wandered to the shakuhachi, the bamboo flute resting quietly in the corner. Perhaps playing a few notes might calm his mind.

In the kitchen, Makio paused as the soft, haunting melody of the flute reached his ears. Another subtle sign that something weighed heavily on Yoshio today.

He swiftly changed his clothes to a loose-fitting white t-shirt, an oversized beige cardigan, baggy dark pants, and new-season sneakers. His long hair was tied in a bun, and he donned a pair of dark sunglasses. He looked at his reflection, noting how much he resembled a K-drama lead. Next, he snapped his fingers and immediately appeared on a side street in the heart of Tokyo. Looking very casual he strode to the bigger street, putting his hands in his pockets.

As he was walking out of the corner street somebody bumped into him. His glasses flew on the floor. He did not react, stopping to observe the other person, looking detached as always.

As he walked toward a busier area, someone bumped into him, sending his glasses tumbling to the ground.

"Oh man, sorry about that! You came out of nowhere," said a young man as he bent down to retrieve Makio’s glasses, handing them back with an overly apologetic smile that didn’t quite reach his mischievous eyes.

He accepted the glasses but hesitated to put them back on, distracted by the stranger’s appearance. The man’s layered ginger hair glinted under the sun, falling just past his shoulders. His eyes, dark with an unusual hint of orange and red around the pupils, were playful but intensely captivating.His nose and ears were pierced. Makio felt like he was staring a bit too long, however, he had never seen anyone who looked so good. The other man was looking back at him, curiosity dancing in his eyes.

"Well," realizing it took him too long to respond, Makio tried to be calm, averting his gaze, he said, "It's nothing".

The stranger grinned, clearly aware of the attention. "Well?" he teased, his head tilting slightly to the side, daring Makio to respond.

Makio finally averted his gaze, clearing his throat. "It’s nothing," he muttered, turning to leave.

But then, a scent hit him—something sharp and wild beneath the heavy cologne. He spun back, eyes narrowing. "Are you a fox?"

The other man’s eyebrow arched, and he stepped closer, smiling slyly. "And if I am, bird?" His voice was smooth, laced with amusement. He wasn’t as tall as Makio, but there was something commanding about his presence, especially as he looked up, their proximity shortening with every breath.

Makio’s heart raced, and he found himself momentarily speechless. "Well... nothing, I guess," he finally managed, trying to step back but finding himself rooted in place.

The fox smirked, circling him with a predatory grace. "So, you've never met a fox before? I must say, I’ve never seen such a pretty bird." He eyed Makio as though he were sizing him up for purchase, his tone half-mocking, half-complimentary.

Makio tensed, feeling like prey. Now he noticed the other man’s expensive attire—an emerald silk shirt beneath a deep violet blazer, paired with matching trousers and polished brown loafers. He wore layers of intricate gold jewelry that glittered in the daylight, making his outfit as captivating as he was.

"Even with a long nose like that, it suits you perfectly," the fox continued, reaching out to touch Makio’s face.

In an instant Makio returned to his senses, stopping that fox's arm in the air, looking calm still, his mind in turmoil. Fox did not mind, reacting with even a wider smile, intentionally looking into Makio’s eyes, slowly taking the hand away, shortening their distance even further.

The fox chuckled, withdrawing his hand but leaning even closer, eyes twinkling with mischief. "You’re fun. I could teach you many things, bird, if you’re interested..." His voice dropped to a sultry whisper, causing a flush to creep up Makio’s neck.

"You are as sly as I would expect from a fox. Leave me alone," he snapped, his pulse pounding in his ears.

The fox laughed, winking at him.

The fox simply laughed, giving him a lazy wink. "As you wish, handsome. But remember, the loss is yours. Au revoir!" With a wave, he vanished, leaving Makio standing there, seething with an odd mix of confusion and frustration.

"Fucking show-off. Hope to never see you again." Makio muttered under his breath, still fuming. He had almost forgotten why he had come to Tokyo in the first place. Taking a deep breath, he straightened his clothes and resumed walking, though the encounter lingered in his thoughts. He did not know what to do, feeling something deeply inside. Something he wanted to punch even deeper and forget. He shook his head, trying to re-load his mind, confidently walking towards the manga shop.

He, however, did not forget to buy pudding before returning home.