Welcome to our newest branch in Chinese-Fairytales Ave! I am Plumeria-hi, owner, manager, waitress, chef and motorcycle-driver-gone-wrong in this teahouse, and I'll be happy to be your escort today! Table for one, I presume?... Right this way, compadre!

Tonight's menu special is The Widow and the Wolf, our newest recipe yet! And it comes with side-dishes such as:

1) A double-decker ChuNi sandwich consisting of Yao/Kiku and wolf!(secret recipe)/Kiku. Sorry-we've made it a policy not to alter the recipe if you are allergic to ChuNi. Because the last time we tried that, the chef screwed up big time and nearly conjured a plague.

2) Bear n' wolf statistics you simply MUST refrain from eating, because those are statistics we simply made up! All the other fact-fish-fingers, however, are completely edible.

3) A statue of a little narrator-man with a bowler cap that has a great-grandmother. He's not real; he's just a statue we made out of candle wax. So don't eat candle wax.

4) We are sorry, but due to the lack of terminology-spices, we've decided to substitute the missing spice-palette with "widow = a (girl) person who has lost a husband", since a "widower", which means that the wife is lost, tasted like kangaroo fart (we quote from the waitress).

5) An alphabet soup which consists of 7112 words.

Please wait in the next fourteen words for your meal to be prepared, aaand... BON APPETITE, LOVIES!

*insert sound of cataclysmic explosion here*

The Widow and the Wolf

dedicated to Skythewolfdog9, a Deviant Art artist with the passionate soul of a 2p!Hound!China

˙.˙.˙.˙.˙.˙.˙.˙.˙.˙.˙.˙.˙.˙.˙.˙.˙

When my great-grandmother had only been a girl of five, she told me that in a village bordering the lush forests of Hokkaido lived a young man whose name was Kiku. Kiku was married happily to a woodcutter from across the seas named Yao. Every day, Yao would grope the woods from the crack of the dawn to the dusk scavenging for timber, and Kiku would scrape as much loose change as he could sewing clothes, for the couple were dastardly impoverished and often had to go nights on end without supper. Nevertheless, the young couple had enjoyed a blissful life devoid of grieving, content in each others' embrace for many years proceeding their marriage.

One day, however, an unprecedented plight befell upon the husbands. Yao had been scavenging for firewood with his axe slung over a shoulder as always, when out of the wall of cedars pounced a wolf the size of a tiger, with piercing yellow eyes and a famished snarl. Wolves such as these—or any sort of wolves whatsoever at that—can no longer be found in Hokkaido in this time nor age, for the preceding century had seen cavaliers with rifles extirpating the canine race within the cusps of the country. Imperial Japan was earthbound-hell for wolves.

But even in my great-grandmother's time the kingdom of the bears outnumbered the feral canines by a ratio of three to one. Knowing this, the shock that paralyzed Yao to the ground upon being confronted by such an allusive beast should come as no surprise. The wolf mauled Yao until the poor man bled to death, then took the scruff of his broken neck into its fangs and hauled the carcass away.

When the locals arrived ten days and nights later to the crime scene upon Kiku's tearful plea, all they had to decipher his fate was his jacket and axe, both of his remaining possessions stained by the ominous burgundy of dried blood. Mourning for their comrade, the men dolefully retrieved the items and lugged it home to show to Yao's widow, whose frail heart splintered like a porcelain vase as he sank to his knees, howling and shrieking the loss of a man so very dear in a manner no other man had ever been before, and no other man can ever be now.

However, in spite of the three-hundred-and-seventy-two days and nights of lamenting to come, eventually all manners of woe and sorrow had been relinquished in favour of a flaring rage for the wolf who had murdered his husband. It was this ire, fueled by Kiku's loss-induced lunacy, which had prompted the man to storm before the daimyo and demand that he scourge and punish the wolf responsible for Yao's death.

"But how can I do so, my boy? It would go against all good reason to punish a beast", the daimyo regarded him with a sardonic leer, so close in resemblance was he to the rest of the bushi clamouring around his robes that day.

Kiku would have none of it. He thrashed and swore and pleaded like a madman, coming in as zealous as ever every time the bushi were told to fling him out. Again and again, Kiku would shriek 'till his voice was coarse, begging on his hands and knees as the men would guffaw around him. Again and again he was hauled out of the daimyo's quarters. But again and again he braved on, coming back for more.

Eventually the daimyo grew increasingly exasperated by the widow's perseverance, and seeing no other way to banish the boy, he summoned the bushi of his domain to an informal meeting.

"I can discern no other solution, my men", he sighed. "This aggravating widow nags upon our slippers like an alley cat begging for morsel. I have a hunch that he shall not leave us to peace until we find the wolf that had slaughtered his love."

"But are we truly going to do so? Honourable daimyo, the blood of the woodcutter would have already washed off the culprit's muzzle; how are we to discern that one amongst its pack was the one who had made a feast of the widow's husband?" One bushi hissed.

"Clod!" He was swiftly bopped on the head by the daimyo. "We will not bother with such trivial details. All we are to accomplish is to pluck some random wolf out of the woods, drag it before the widow and have it incinerated before his eyes to appease him.

"And since you have vexed me beyond reason with your stupidity, you will be the one to go fetch the wolf!"

Thus the begrudging bushi was kicked out of the daimyo's quarters by the hind of his derriere, with threats beforehand that great sanctions awaited him if he returned bearing no wolf.

For many nights and days the bushi camped upon the outskirts of the woods, a crossbow and noose in convenient reach should a wolf come lumbering upon his person. But while the bushi had had close shaves with a bear or two, never once did he stumble upon a canine while he was sifting through the forest. The bushi quickly became agitated, picturing the severe flogging that would surely be his sanction if he retreated empty-handed.

But on the final morning of his stay in Kiku's village, when the bushi, crestfallen after having to endure the unfruitfulness of the last couple of days, had shambled himself half-heartedly through the woods in a final spurt of hope, what should appear before him but a wolf!

Nonetheless, triumph quickly dissipated into apprehension as something stirred in the bushi's guts at the sight of the beast. It appeared as large as a man, with a lustrous sable coat and piercing lava eyes. The wolf uttered to him a low growl, showcasing row upon rows of glinting, scimitar-tipped fangs.

The crossbow and noose faltered out of the bushi's clasp, his feet jittering beneath his robes as the creature complacently prowled around him in circles, occasionally taking whiffs of his person and his weapons. Then, to the amazement of the bushi, it planted itself before him and just sat there upon its hind legs. Unmoving. It's lava eyes not wavering from his figure for even a second.

How strangely human, the bushi mused. Something told him that this was no ordinary beast.

But work was work, and work existed to be completed. Thus the bushi fussed about straightening himself and spoke to the wolf in what he hoped was a tone of regality.

"Honourable wolf", the bushi trumpeted, "I have come in the name of the great daimyo of these lands, he himself appointed by the will of our esteemed highness the shogun. My master the daimyo demanded that I bring to him a beast such as yourself, but for what reason I regret to inform you that I must not tell you as of yet. Will you, honourable wolf, willingly give yourself to a noose for your ruler the daimyo?"

As if understanding his speech, the wolf bowed its head to the bushi without the least of a fuss. And the bushi, now gleeful at having stumbled upon such a docile beast, had quickly retrieved his noose and secured it upon the beast without so much as a word of thanks to our heavenly mother Amaterasu.

Then the bushi and the wolf made the journey back to the daimyo's quarters, where the bushi's master lauded him with promises of lavish perquisites for having captured such a majestic beast (whilst silently mourning that its luxurious pelt would be lost in incineration). Kiku was summoned back to the daimyo's quarters that very same day, and arrived with great haste before the daimyo the very next morn.

"Look here, widow", the daimyo gestured to the wolf perched obediently to the right of his pedestal.

And look Kiku did. And how he felt as if the oblong of a poniard had stabbed into his heart, for the beast's sable complexion reminded him of his husband's soft hair which he used to comb every night without fail; how the churning lava of the wolf's eyes reminded him of the first jacket he had sown for Yao, which would become the jacket he wore everywhere from then on regardless of whether it thinned or faded with the summer heat and the autumn rain—and even in death itself.

It made Kiku's loathing for the wolf all the more bitter.

"We have arrested the wolf who was proven to be responsible for the death of your husband", the daimyo lied, "and plans have been made to incinerate him to repent for his sins."

The wolf remained unfazed on his hunches

"However."

"What do you mean, 'however'!" Kiku yelped.

"My men and I have spoken to the wolf, and it had repented for all of its wrongs towards you and your husband. Thus I thought about everything the other night, and my pondering had resulted in a choice.

"Honourable wolf", he turned to the canine. "Because you have taken the life of this man's husband, it is without a doubt your responsibility now to own up to your actions, and slot yourself into the crevice that is now empty in the widow's life. When morals are involved, it also simply would not do to leave the widow Kiku to grief alone 'till death. In this manner, you must accompany him from now on, and fulfill to him what was once the obligation of the belated woodcutter Yao. Are you, honourable wolf", the daimyo implored, " willing to pose as the widow's husband, and take full and proper responsibility for the sins you have committed?"

But what a befuddling twist to my great-grandmother's tale! Now the wolf shall be spared from the brink of a bonfire with just a simple concur, and while it seemed befitting to let an innocent canine off the hook, I, your humble narrator, take it that this whimsical turn of events had left you speechless, esteemed reader. Thus I shall take the liberty now to elaborate upon the daimyo's actions. For what you must know now is that the daimyo had not done what he did out of compassion, nor a sense of justice (though it was not to say that he did not have a lick of the latter), but instead to fulfill the worldliness of his nature that would rather hack his own tongue off than watch a bucket of tokens be cast into the sea; having to witness a creature as splendid as the wolf be disintegrated into ashes would have been the same.

To Kiku's mortification, the wolf nodded his head. Then it craned its neck to the widow and gazed at him in a manner that bordered tenderness, if I dare say. Kiku looked away indignantly, never seeing the hurt splayed across the wolf's beastly complexion.

"Then I take it your request to me have been fulfilled, widow. I've captured the wolf and I have punished it for the atrocities it had committed upon your husband. Now", the daimyo crowed, shoving the wolf towards the sulking widow, "be gone, and leave with your new husband!"

Padding towards Kiku, the wolf hesitated bashfully before the man. Then it began to whimper as it nuzzled the widow's cheeks fondly. But Kiku, who was not prepared to nuzzle anyone but his deceased husband as of yet, had yelped his disdain as he slapped the creature away. The wolf could only trail after him in a wounded silence.

That night, Kiku tossed some food into a bucket for his new "husband", tethered him to the front door and went to bed bursting with tears.

Kiku awoke from a restless night to find that the wolf had disappeared.

What he did find, however, was the mangled end of a rope and the food left untouched in the bucket.

"Despicable dog", he rubbed the last of the night's tears away and snatched the bucket, trudging to the front door to discard the food outside.

What the widow (or at least he tells himself that he is still one) was not prepared to uncover as he slid the shoji open, however, was a pile of wood.

Of all things, wood!

Aside from the mutilated carcass of a stag, fresh from the forest and dripping blood down a gash in its neck.

Surprising Kiku, the wolf barred playfully into the back of his legs to get his attention. It grinned at Kiku through the incandescent amber of its eyes and uttered a happy bark. In the meantime Kiku could only absorb the canine's enthusiasm in astounded silence—so flabbergasted he was that he had forgotten to shoo it away, so that the wolf was free to eagerly lap the back of his hand with his tongue.

Slipping his overcoat over his lithe figure, Kiku butchered the stag and sold its meat at the village market for a decent profit. Some of the firewood he brought to sell as well, while a portion of it kept him and the wolf warm when the sun had dipped low over the tufts of the forest.

Since it was only befitting to Kiku's reserved nature, he did not speak of it aloud to the wolf. But while his steadily recuperating heart could not find it in himself to accept the wolf as anything but a companion, the widow felt absolutely grateful for the deeds it had committed that morning. How he missed the aroma of smoldering cedar, and it did not occur to him how much he yearned to see the flames lap up the hearth once again, casting dancing shadows across the dim sitting room and painting the contours of his cheeks gold. To perceive the crackle of embers and succumb to the warmth that felt so, so good against his aching skin and bones.

He had been afraid to light the hearth again since Yao's departure, for fearing that the memories he shared with his husband would pain him more than Yao's absence already did: the perfectly-preserved portrait of Yao and Kiku tacked to his head. Snuggling by the fire and exchanging soft words and gestures of endearment while the embers whittled the firewood away.

Now there was no Yao to embrace. No Yao to snuggle by the fire with, and no Yao to whisper into his ears claims of adoration. No human fingers to hold him close to the beating of a ticker.

All that was left was a winsome canine curled around his body, blissfully snoring away doggy dreams upon his lap.

Kiku knew that even if he did come to love this wolf as more than just a bane (as impalpable as the thought sounded as it resonated within his head), he knew that nothing could ever properly fill the cavity that'd been drilled into the core of his being by Yao's death.

But for the first time since what felt like eons ago. For the first time since Yao's side of the bed had adopted an indelible draft, and Kiku's eyes could be seen red and raw with every rising sun,

He was willing to embrace this cavity forever and make the most out of a new life with a wolf companion.

Since that morning, Kiku would find gifts awaiting him at his front door every morn without fail. And whether it was a mangled animal or more firewood, he was always able to make a handsome profit out of the commodities in the market. With this money, Kiku was able to afford a shrine for Yao. The rest of the money he saved wisely, and he and the wolf never went hungry again. It was in this manner that Kiku found himself much more cared for in the paws of the wolf than with his husband.

Gradually, Kiku and the wolf also became an inseparable duo. Where once Kiku had been cold and disregarding of the canine, a few months to come saw him coming to love the beast immensely. He fondled the wolf and spoke to it as if it were human, and ensured that the animal never went cold or sweltered, and that it had a warm meal and plenty of water twice a day. One afternoon the wolf had limped back whimpering and bearing no treasure in its jaws, but instead a bloodied paw boasting a deep gash on which a thorn protruded. Disregarding everything, Kiku flew tearfully to the beast's side and wasted no time in joggling the offending thorn loose. The wolf, with its mummified paw and a peeved grunt, was then strictly prohibited from setting foot into the forest until the boy was sure that his companion had truly recuperated. Thus it was proven that Kiku's warmth for his beastly friend was not for the booty and riches it brought into his possessions, but for underlying reasons even this humble narrator couldn't even come close to deciphering; for the crimson-ribbon tendencies of love was a secret only the deities understood.

The wolf's undying love for Kiku had also proven itself a force to be reckoned. It adored and cared for the widow no less than it had the first day, going to great lengths to ensure that the widow went to bed every night safe and undisturbed. Sometimes, out of protectiveness, it would tail Kiku to the marketplace, snarling and snapping its jaws at anyone whom it may perceive as a threat to its friend. Without a doubt the other villagers had spent the first few weeks of the wolf's presence in public crawling under tables, or shrieking as it padded forward to catch a whiff of a stranger's scent—and oftentimes a mugger or two would flounce to Kiku complaining about a missing finger. But after witnessing its apparent fondness for the widow, the time eventually came when the villagers realized that the wolf was no eminent threat (so long as they didn't try anything rancid with it or Kiku, that is), and had taken to babying the wolf as well. Oftentimes the wolf would teeter home and not touch a single thing on its plate, stuffed by the morsels it had scarfed down to the amusement of some village children or grandparent.

And much like Yao and Kiku had with their hearth and firewood, the nights of tranquility became something both Kiku and the wolf had came to anticipate. Using the firewood the wolf had gathered at the times preceding, the hearth would be resurrected. Then boy and beast would curl up by the fire, warming hands and warming hearts, and the wolf would urge Kiku to croon to it stories of his past with a nuzzle of his chin. Sometimes Kiku talked about his childhood; other times he reiterated tales and fables he had heard as a little boy, or amusing events which he had digested from another soul or had experienced on his own accord.

But queer as it was, Kiku learned after a few tales that the stories the wolf loved the best were the stories depicting himself, Yao, and the bond they used to share before their ribbon had been abruptly severed by his early death. The first of such nights saw the wolf unwind himself from Kiku's torso and scamper to the shrine by the hearth. Then, taking the jacket which had been washed and neatly folded upon the altar gently into its jaws, the wolf would pad back to Kiku and thrust this gently into Kiku's lap.

"What does this mean, boy?"

The wolf gestured back to the altar with his snout and barked.

Kiku did not respond for the longest times, having to take a couple of minutes to reconfigure his voice.

"Do you want to hear about Yao, boy?" He murmured.

A bark and a gleeful pant. Then the wolf coiled itself about Kiku and laid its head upon his lap once more, as if it was prompting him to start already.

"Very well then", Kiku chuckled softly. "Let's see now... He was as stubborn as a mule." Another laugh. The wolf panted happily, as if laughing along with him. "He never listened to anything anyone ever said. I used to tell him: 'Yao, I know you know what's best for us both, but I honestly think you'd do well by doing so-and-so'. And he'd laugh so loud and tell me that I was a worrywart and that I was always thinking too much, and that I need not be concerned for 'a big boy' like him.

"But he'd get himself into trouble anyway", the boy prattled on wistfully. "And I'd tell myself every time: let him deal with it himself Kiku; he needs to learn sooner or later Kiku. But then he'd flash me that sorry excuse of a grin", that faraway grin was subconsciously being imitated by his own lips. Seeing it, the wolf craned its neck to lick Kiku's jawline. "I end up bailing him out of it every time.

"But he's not a bad person at all, you know? He knew how to smile in the face of tears. He knew how to keep you warm when there was no firewood to be found, and knew how to lull you to sleep when you haven't a crumb for supper. And even though collecting firewood alone didn't pay that greatly either, he was always trying and trying. Never once had I ever heard a word of complain about all the work we had to do slip out of his mouth.

"Nowadays, I'm proud to see that I can still shoulder the loss and stand on my own two feet once more." Fresh tears were welling in the corners of his eyes before Kiku could stop them. He sniffled over the wolf's doleful whimpers, rubbing them furiously and causing them to leave light paths as they cascaded down his cheeks. "But I miss him! I miss him more and more as the days pile behind me! It's a sin of the heavens", he took a deep, shuddery breath, "how it occurs to me again and again how much I do, just when I start to suspect that things are about to get better."

Left with nothing else to say to his companion, Kiku clutched the jacket to his chest and sobbed into the garment, blubbering Yao's name if it meant he could cry for just a bit longer, if only to wash the pain away for another time. He only calmed himself as the wolf made its soothing presence known with a howl.

Mopping the tears away with a grateful smile, the widow leaned over to peck the animal lightly on the head. "You know", he ruffled its pelt, "you remind me awfully of him sometimes.

"Would you like to hear about the time Yao and I woke up to find cranes near the house?"

Certainly the wolf did. As well as the time when Yao got into a bet with another woodcutter to see who could produce the most timber, but ended up donating his collection to some tribal children who needed to boil herbs for their mother, the time when Yao found out he was allergic to bear meat, the time when Yao found out Kiku did not fancy bear meat being scandalized in the market as "all-healing serums", as well as the rest of Kiku's plump, dear memoir of his husband. All this the wolf listened to with great intent, lava eyes brighter than the waning fire of the hearth.

Thus for but a fleeting moment, life was as blissful as blissful was manageable to the widow and the wolf.

But alas! The seasons change four times a year, the moon grows plump and proceeds to wane and decay, and even the most luxurious of flowers must scatter and die. Such is the fleetingness of gay and morose which plagued the duo when five years to come saw Kiku's health deteriorating with no stop. Five years saw the rich fawn of his eyes dwindle into rust, and five years stole the sheen of his hair, the healthy colour of his cheeks and what little weight Kiku could grapple with maintaining before, so that what was once a slender frame disintegrated into nothing but skin and bones. Hardly a day went by when Kiku was not keeling over the floor spewing green fluids down his robes. Similarly, seldom did a night passed when the widow was not keeping himself awake with coughing fits. No herb nor medicine saw flourishing effects on his ailment, and eventually Kiku became nothing but a pale, shivering husk confined to the blanket and the mattress.

Oh, the irony of fate. Now like a couple of mandarin ducks, the widow is a lisp away from being reunited with his husband once again.

Although it could be agreed that the languished person shackled to his deathbed was in great misery, if any other specimen in the village could be said to be the most miserable of them all, it was truly his wolf companion that was keeping the rest of the village awake every night with its anguished howls since the start of Kiku's ailment. The distressed beast could find no comfort other than to lay on the floor by Kiku's bed, tending with a pathetic glee to every one of the widow's requests. Then should its beloved master be deep in pained slumber, the wolf would scamper out with its tail between its legs and howl to the forest. "Look at that honourable wolf", the villagers would say to one another. "Observe how loyal he is; he must be calling Yao's ghost to come and pick up his husband, for Kiku must be drawing to the end of his happy life very soon."

It was the thirty-fourth night marked by unending physical suffering. Kiku watched the shadows from a lantern flicker and dart across the wall with lidded eyes set into stone, and knew that the life was seeping out of those eyes Yao had once lavished with praises even as he did nothing but recline upon the mattress. He had long stopped moving, for the act now seemed futile. Kiku also couldn't remember the last time a cough had slipped past his dried lips, or whether he was even breathing or just holding his breath for a long, long time, anticipating the coming of something everyone knew would have to happen soon; the villagers knew; his last physician knew; the wolf which Kiku could not find by the rim of his bed tonight knew, and he himself would have been a fool not to know.

A bark disturbed him from his train of thoughts.

"Boy? Is that you?" He rasped.

Loud whimpering; the hush-hush brush of paws against mat. Then he felt something coarse land upon his forearm. Filled with intrigue, Kiku made the arduous gesture of looking down—only to warm upon the sight of Yao's jacket.

"This again?" His smile was not the happiest in his dreary circumstances, but it was definitely not one which expressed lament.

But just as Kiku was about to reach out a skeletal finger to grasp the cloth close to his faltering heart, to his silent mortification, the wolf snatched it into its jaws and flung it upon the floor.

"Boy? Boy!" Kiku croaked as he heaved himself into a kneeling position, having to clutch the wall as the bed began to rock and sway beneath him.

He watched, utterly baffled, as his companion flung itself back-first upon the jacket and lolled about the floor. It didn't stop until its forelegs had managed to slip into the sleeves; then the beast heaved itself up once again, its torso shoddily engulfed in Yao's now-dusty jacket.

All Kiku could discern was the faint howl of the wolf before a beam of light pierced his eyes, rendering him blind for a full second.

The next time Kiku had regained his bearings, the wolf had vanished into thin air. In its place, however, was a man with soft, sable hair that dangled to his chest, ardent amber eyes and a smile which punctured through Kiku's frail ticker. Similar to the wolf, Yao's jacket was clad haphazardly upon his profile; and other than the permeable frazzled state he was in, not a single scar nor stitch defiled his person.

Gentle and prepossessing. Like the divine messenger of a deity had descended upon his abode; Kiku tried blinking his eyes again, rubbed them and pinched himself for good measure, and realized that the man was no mere figment of his vertigo.

"Kiku", the man smiled.

"Are you really who I think you are?" Kiku's smile was tearful and brimming with joy. "Are you really who I think you ought to be?"

The man only responded by broadening his grin. "Have I changed that much so that I am now barely recognizable to even my own husband?" He chuckled.

Kiku replied by bursting into inconsolable tears; and Yao, whilst laughing in the face of his own blubbering episode, sprinted to his husband's side.

The couple then embraced dearly after so many years of being apart in human form, lost in the cusps of the brimming affection they harboured for one another and never letting the hug go tepid or loose.

"It was you all along!" Kiku sobbed happily into the crook of his husband's neck. "It has always been you all along! What took you so long to reveal this to me, Yao?"

"I'm sorry for stalling our reunion for so long", Yao pecked his husband on the crown. "But it came with the deal I had compromised with the spirit-guardian of the forest."

Kiku lifted his head with curiosity. "A deal with the spirit-guardian of the forest, you say?"

"Indeed", Yao confirmed. "It was a deal which allowed me to return to you in the form of a canine-beast."

"Tell me what happened."

"The first thing that happened", his husband began, shifting their positions so that he could gaze upon Kiku's visage properly, "was that I died in the jaws of a wolf."

"And then?"

"When I awoke, my body had disappeared and I was nothing but a wandering spirit in the forest. I knew I was perpetually stuck amidst the cedars, with nowhere to go and no one to tell me what was going to happen to me after that. Certainly my first thoughts was to look for the wolf who had devoured my body, in hopes that that may be my first step towards progress."

"And did you find it?"

"I did after three nights and days of walking", Yao nodded. "The poor canine had pummeled itself over a cliff as tall as the tapered roof of the daimyo's quarters, breaking all of its bones upon hitting the ground and dying in an instant. So I scaled the cliff to inspect its corpse, only to find one of the forest spirit-guardians sitting quietly beside it. I warily approached the spirit-guardian and asked: 'honourable kami. Was it you who have brought about the doom of this wolf?'

"Then, as if I had disturbed its sitting meditation, it looked up to me and said: 'indeed, wandering spirit. It was I who had caused the wolf to topple over the cliff and dash itself against the ground to its death.'

"So I asked it why it did so, and it proceeded to huff: 'this wolf had devoured an innocent man—moreover, an innocent man with a husband awaiting him back home! Truly this is a sin that is unforgivable in all aspects, and the wolf deserves a punishment for committing it.'

"'Truly', I concurred.

"'And surely you must have heard of the saying an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth?'

"'Indeed', I said.

"'This wolf has taken your life', the spirit-guardian told me. 'Thus it must repent for its sin by having its own taken away. It is for this reason that you must venerate me now, wandering spirit, for I have assisted in avenging your unjust death.'

"But then I told the spirit-guardian: 'ai ya! You could have chosen a better way to avenge my death, honourable kami!" Kiku giggled at how his husband was stifled from a change in his person even after death. " 'the wolf is now dead and our bet settled and done with, but what good will it do? I am still a wandering spirit, jailed in this forest and unable to return to my mourning husband. Revenge satisfied the grudge, but otherwise it got me nowhere!' The spirit-guardian understood my logic and apologized profusely for his brash actions. But I forgave him because he was a spirit-guardian, and who knew what he would do to me or you if he bears a grudge over me yelling at him? Anyways, he was soothed by my forgiveness, and asked me if there was anything he could do make it up to me.

"So I said to him rather tearfully: 'honourable kami. The only desire this wandering spirit can covet is to be able to go home to my husband once again; to lay in his arms and care for him 'till the day when the divine entities decide to withdraw us both. If you can grant me this one request, I shan't ask for anything else.'"

"So what did the spirit-guardian do, Yao?" Kiku urged.

"The spirit-guardian rubbed its temples, thinking and thinking and thinking for the longest of times. Then it looked to me. After that it looked to the wolf. It looked from me to the wolf; the wolf to me; me to the wolf; again and again until he raised a finger and proclaimed: 'I think I know how to solve your predicament, wandering spirit! So that you may come home to your husband's embrace and care for him 'till the day of his end.

"'But I must warn you now that there is a price to pay', he spoke grimly. I told him that I was willing to give up anything if it meant that I can see you again. So he said: 'you will return to your husband. You will care for him 'till the day of his end, and he will love you dearly. But the only exception is that you shall return, wandering spirit, in the form of a wolf. The corpse of this wolf which I had led to death is still young and fresh; I can transfer your soul into his body so that you may go home and leave this forest. Now—you seem like a bright-enough fellow, so surely you know what the consequences of this will be, do you not? Your husband will probably not recognize you, and thus will continue to pine for the you whom he assumes is dead, completely unaware that his husband had been converted into a wolf and is with him once again. So while he shall love you immensely as a wolf, he will not love you the same way he loved you as a human, for your husband the lad Kiku is faithful and will be disinclined to express to anything else the love he assumes you have taken with you to your grave. In this way, are you still willing to go through with the deal?'

"For I am still a mere mortal man, the prospect of you not being able to love me the same way after that pained me more than I'd liked to admit to the spirit-guardian. But then I asked myself: 'which is more important? That Kiku knows you are the wolf and loves you all the same, or that you remain true to Kiku and love him behind a mask 'till the end of his life?' And you, my beloved", Yao held his dear close, "means more to me than the love you give me, if you do not know that already. I want to remain at your side and continue to protect you, even if it means you can never love me the same way ever again.

"So I agreed and allowed the spirit-guardian to coax my wandering spirit into the body of the wolf. Before I began life in my new form, though, he warned me: 'now, you must listen to all I say if you want to see your husband again. Drunk upon the ire of losing you, your dear had coerced the daimyo into hunting down and punishing the wolf who had killed you. One of the daimyo's bushi is wandering this forest as we speak, in search of a wolf to present to his master. This bushi you must find; then you must allow him to take you to the daimyo and Kiku. Pray then to our heavenly mother Amaterasu that the daimyo will excuse you from a death penalty, and there is your chance to start anew with your husband.'

"And that is how I got here", Yao concluded his tale.

Kiku, moved by all which had been revealed to him, snuggled happily into his husband's arms. "However, I do not understand something Yao", he said behind a tired smile. "If your human form was what you must sacrifice to return to me, then why are you human once again?"

"For two reasons, my dear", Yao's smile was as saccharine as it was somber. "The first of it being us. The second being you.

"Unbeknownst to us both, the spirit-guardian of the forest had been secretly watching us since the day the daimyo gave me to you as your 'new' husband. I did not know of this until I was out hunting one morning and came across it once more. Pleased and smiling, the spirit-guardian told me all that had happened, and that he was impressed by the stalwart bond we shared. He said to me: 'it would be a downright sin, wandering-spirit-come-wolf, to leave the two of you as you are with no reward for the love you have thrived. Hence, after consulting my brethren the other spirit-guardians of this forest, I've decided to grant you a small clemency in terms of the deal, and it is this: on the night when your husband Kiku draws his last breath—and fear not of if you will not know it or not, for the information will present itself to you one way or another—retrieve your jacket from where he had placed it upon your shrine, wear it and you will become human once again, thus allowing you and your husband to spend your final night happy together before this life ends, and the divine entity comes to usher the two of you to the path where your new one shall begin.'

"It came to me in a dream some days ago", Yao finished.

Kiku nodded as he digested the information. "So if you are here with me now, then does that not mean…" Before he could stop himself, he was crying again. "It's not fair", he sobbed into his hands. "I only get to see you one more time as a human. And honestly, I don't care if you turn back into a wolf tomorrow and I have to keep living as an ill man confined to the bed. I know who you are now, and it pains me that I did not before. If I did, then I promise, Yao, that I would have loved you as I did before you died."

"Enough of that, you." Drying his tears, Yao coaxed his beloved to look him in the eye. "The past is the past, and there's no use fussing over it now that we only have the present in our hands. The spirit-guardian of the forest had been gracious to us, and through whimsical means we have evaded loss and form, together until our dying breath. So why not focus on making every second of tonight count? And who knows?" With his arms still wrapped around him, he coaxed Kiku to lay with him upon the mattress. "Perhaps another deity had been watching us somewhere up there, and shall give us the joy of meeting one another again in the next life. Then let us be wolves, humans for a second life or the entity of a nation—and still our love shall prevail. For nothing truly ends, does it not?"

"I suppose not", Kiku braved a smile upon his face as Yao drew the blanket over them both. "So now is the time to say that I love you, isn't it Yao?"

"Why tell me what I already know!" The other laughed softly, pulling Kiku close for a kiss. "What are we living? Some writer's romantic prose?"

The next morning, some villagers slipped into the quaint little home bordering the forests of Hokkaido. There they found Kiku's body, eternally smiling in death, curled in his bed beside the corpse of the wolf. The villagers mourned Kiku and his companion's death, but was reassured all the same in knowing that the widow died happy, and that he was in a better place with his husband and wolf companion—not that they knew Yao the woodcutter-human and Yao the wandering-spirit-come-wolf was the same entity, anyway. Kiku and the wolf, suspiciously wearing Yao's jacket, were then cremated and their ashes bestowed upon the ebbing of the sea, after which the unsuspecting villagers went home.

Now, to my esteemed readers; from this tale spun to you from the viridians of Hokkaido by my great-grandmother, it can be agreed that the woodcutter Yao is indeed a man to admire. Whether he be in the form of a human or a wolf, Yao stuck true to his love for Kiku, vowing to care for and love him regardless if he had to do it as a woodcutter or a beast. Yao did not let his form restrict him from loving his husband.

Then what of those who are disinclined to love one another simply due to form? What of the humans who condescend another for the colour of their skin, or the parents who disown their beautiful baby girl for not being a son? Yao continued to love his husband even when he was not a human, and yet even amongst humans the form is still used as an excuse to scorn and deport. If this is the case, then to you divine entities weeping in heaven for the ignorance of mankind: to have conceived love as a force that overcomes all had been a futile act. For apparently it is the form that is loved more than love itself.

Much like the Maiden Blue and the Knight in Red, I've decided to try my hand at writing stories based on the style of the Chinese fairytales I am currently obsessed over. I'm finding them a lot of fun to write, and it's great practice too! The only difference now is that instead of LGBT rights or a depression-cavalrywoman on the Internet, this time I've decided to dedicate my work to yet another person who has changed the way I see writing and holding passions: Skythewolfdog9 on Deviant Art, who is one of the best artists you'll ever meet. They specify on 2p!China and there's all sorts of versions of 2p!China you can check out on their profile, each of them with these quirky personalities and some even coming in non-human forms! (technically China is a country-personification so-Ah, shut up). I decided to write a story about a wolf in their honour.

Besides Skythewolfdog9 and their Poland-level-FABULOUS art, this story also drew inspirations from the Chinese fairytale The Repentant Tiger of Chaoching (by Pu Sungling - this dude is an awesome fairytale writer, one of my favourites where Chinese literature and the genre is concerned. So if you're as gung-ho about fairytales as I am, I definitely recommend that you give this one a shot!). The philosophy-rant-thing at the end is a fun style inspired by Xu Fang's.

As per usual, feel free to favourite, follow or leave a comment via the review section or private messages! All and any comments are appreciated; virtual hugs are free and in abundant supplies too, so you can always ask for those if you want as well!

-Plumeria-hi