The "Timely Rain" Demon Fox

As night deepened, the streets on either side grew empty and deserted. Only the dim glow of streetlights, accompanied by the fluttering of moths, cast mottled shadows on the ground, making the darkness of this night seem even more profound—it was as if a beast, lying in wait, might lunge from the shadows at any moment. An undercurrent of unease and dread stirred restlessly in the heart.

This was one of the most critical areas of the central city—the Central Command.

Owing to its unique status, this district was always sparsely traveled, and after nightfall, it became utterly silent. Amid the rustle of leaves, inside a telephone booth directly beneath a streetlamp, a man in a sharply pressed blue uniform, his dark hair immaculate, gripped the receiver with an anxious, irritable expression. He waited impatiently for his friend to answer at the other end of the line, while, in the silence, the faint sound of some liquid dripping to the floor echoed persistently.

But in the next moment, the sudden click of a pistol’s safety being released behind him froze his every movement.

Slowly, the man turned around.

Behind him stood a familiar face, one belonging to his most trusted subordinate, wearing a polite smile, her eyes calm as she regarded him.

“Would you please set down the receiver, Colonel?” she asked gently.

Yet, her soft tone belied the unwavering hand that aimed a pistol directly at him.

Seeing no response, the short-haired woman in uniform tightened her finger on the trigger and repeated her request, this time with unmistakable firmness: “Please set down the receiver, Colonel.”

Suddenly, the man let out a strained, bitter laugh.

“Lieutenant Ross?” he asked.

No, that wasn’t right.

Then, “Who are you?”

The real Lieutenant Ross had a distinctive mole beneath her left eye. Her colleagues at headquarters had teased her about it before, saying, “Such a rare beauty, Lieutenant—even with a rather boyish haircut, that lovely beauty mark only makes you more striking.” The man himself had once joked about it with her. Even in this dim light, how could he possibly mistake someone else for his most trusted subordinate?

The impostor, unbothered by having been found out, raised a finger and touched just below the left eye. A black teardrop-shaped mark, identical to the real Ross's, appeared at the corner of the eye.

“I see. It seems I was careless before. Is this better?” The voice, now entirely different, twisted into a cruel smile, face contorted with undisguised murderous intent.

“Thinking too quickly isn’t always a good thing, Colonel Hughes.”

Still smiling, the attacker drew a stiletto from his fingers, poised to fight to the death at the instant Hughes turned, and in a blink, their appearance shifted to that of Hughes’s beloved wife.

“It’s me, darling!” he called sweetly.

Yet the next second, the gentle face twisted again into a savage, vicious sneer.

“How’s my performance?” he jeered, and, without hesitation, prepared to pull the trigger and end Hughes’s life.

But in that critical instant, with a tremendous crash, the mysterious assailant was abruptly knocked to the ground by a powerful kick! And atop the attacker—

A red-haired youth, his expression a mixture of helplessness and innocence—one could scarcely tell if he’d dropped from the sky or simply materialized out of nowhere, yet his timing was uncanny. He had, apparently without realizing it, planted a foot squarely on the assailant’s waist and face, and landed gracefully, all while holding in his arms a small, soft, white creature. The two of them, boy and creature, gazed into each other’s eyes with unabashed affection.

“Mokona, you’re amazing!” the boy exclaimed, nuzzling the white bundle against his cheek, his tone brimming with tenderness and the unique devotion one reserves for a cherished companion. “That landing was perfect! Not a jolt or bump!”

Pink blushes bloomed on the white creature’s cheeks at the praise.

“Mokona’s getting better!” he responded, a little proud and a little shy, puffing out his tiny chest and rubbing his soft face against the youth’s. “And I have to try hard so Kurama doesn’t get hurt!”

At this, the youth’s face lit up with a smile filled with warmth and delight.

“I knew you were the most adorable and considerate, Mokona! I love you most of all!”

“Mokona loves Kurama most too!” the creature chirped, standing on tiptoe to plant a kiss on the youth’s face.

Their sweet, pink-hued dialogue left no room for interruption.

Inside the phone booth, Colonel Hughes—his receiver now quietly disconnected—leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath. For a moment, he wondered if he still understood the world at all.

As for the assailant, lying dazed beneath the youth’s foot, it seemed he’d lost consciousness. But thanks to his robust constitution, he soon revived—only to have the red-haired boy, quite “unintentionally,” press down with his toe…

Before a scream could escape, the attacker’s face was driven several inches into the pavement, smashing a hole in the stone, while a series of cracks sounded from his waist—whether bones breaking or joints dislocating, Hughes, even as his enemy, shuddered and instinctively clutched at his own lower back.

Dear God! That spot is vital for a man! If it got crushed—

Amid such stray thoughts, even the pain in his wounded right shoulder seemed to fade. Dazed, Hughes adjusted his glasses, his expression—

Well, he no longer knew what sort of face he ought to make.

At that moment, the youth—who had, intentionally or not, been increasing the pressure with his foot—finally turned to look at Hughes. It was, after all, the very fox spirit who had only just left the FZ world, bringing Gunner and Mokona to embark on his next journey. The youth’s lips curled into a gentle smile so warm it sent a chill down Hughes’s spine.

“Well now, I seem to have arrived just in time for this,” the youth said, tilting his head slightly, as if mildly troubled.

Hughes suddenly sensed danger.

Before he could speak, the youth had already hopped off the assailant and, light-footed, walked up to him.

“It seems… this must be fate?” he laughed softly, elegantly, nodding slightly at Hughes. “Good evening, Colonel Hughes—or so the other called you? I am Kurama, and this is Mokona. As you can see, we are two travelers who happen to be passing through.”

Hughes’s mouth twitched at that.

Travelers passing through… Who are you trying to fool, boy?

Yet the other seemed not to notice the blatant sarcasm in Hughes’s expression, but continued amiably, “But it seems our timing today is rather unfortunate, and you, Colonel, seem to be in quite a predicament yourself?”

His gaze suddenly sharpened as he smiled even more warmly and innocently.

“So… why don’t we work together? As travelers, you know, we’d rather not get mixed up in any trouble.”

Hughes met his eyes in silence for a moment. At last, he nodded, accepting the proposal.

And then—

And then, Hughes regretted it.

Standing beside the mysterious red-haired youth, he watched, face twitching, as “he” was shot dead by the assailant. Only when the gunshot rang out and “his” body sank into a pool of blood, staining the family photo he had dropped while searching for secret codes, did he realize—

Until that point, everything matched his own past experience—down to the smallest detail.

The attacker, oblivious to his repetition, turned into the likeness of Lieutenant Maria Ross—this time not forgetting the beauty mark—and strode unhurriedly away from the “scene of the crime.”

Hughes could hardly bear to look at his own lifeless body.

The figure lying in that blood, from physique to features, to the sorrow and regret etched on the face as it murmured the names of wife and daughter, was so perfect that it was as if the youth had conjured the real Colonel Maes Hughes from thin air.

Hughes had already checked: this “body” was indistinguishable from a real human being, and even the most experienced alchemists specializing in human transmutation would find nothing amiss. There was no doubt—it was the genuine Colonel Maes Hughes!

This… this was nothing short of an alchemical miracle!

Staring at the youth, Hughes’s gaze grew more serious and searching.

The youth, catching his glance, simply smiled and turned to him.

“This isn’t alchemy, Colonel,” he said, raising a finger and wagging it gently before Hughes.

“There are miracles in this world that even alchemy can’t achieve.”

“If you must define it, think of what just happened as one such ‘miracle.’”

“What do you think, Colonel Hughes?”

Hughes sighed quietly.

Of course he heard the evasion in the youth’s words.

But what of it?

They had only just met, and yet this stranger had risked all to save his life. Hughes, no matter how cold-blooded he might be, could not pursue the youth’s secrets after such an act.

Besides, he was never cold-hearted.

With a dazzling grin, Hughes raised his uninjured arm and clapped it around the youth’s shoulders.

“Well said, boy!” he beamed.

At the youth’s arched eyebrow, Hughes’s smile only grew.

“So now, take me with you and help me escape! You don’t think it’s over, do you?”

Facing such an over-bright smile, Kurama’s mouth twitched.

He realized he had underestimated this Colonel’s shamelessness and easy familiarity.

But this—this wasn’t so bad.

Smiling, he supported the limping Hughes, and together their figures faded into the night as if swallowed by rippling water.

That night, it seemed certain that many would find sleep elusive.