A Fox's Tail (American Kitsune Book 2) Page 4
For some reason, Kevin felt a strange sense of relief wash over him, like he had just avoided some kind of disaster that would have ended in a horrifyingly erotic, yet strangely funny way. How odd.
“But I want you to get me something from that grabby game, too.”
“Alright.” Kevin shrugged. He could do that easily enough. “What do you want?”
“I want that!”
“The fox plushie?” It was kind of clichè'd to get a kitsune a fox plushie, wasn't it? But if that's what she wanted. “Sure.”
Kevin grabbed ahold of the joystick, and a new game began.
***
Eric sat on the ground in the middle of the arcade, crying manly, waterfall-like tears as he waited for Kevin and Lilian to show up.
“Where are they?!” He wailed like a child having a tantrum. “Where are they, where are they, where are they?!”
Everyone in the general vicinity gave the perverted boy a wide berth, staying at least several meters away as they watched him warily. They didn't want to get wet from his tears, or the raincloud that had randomly appeared over his head and seemed to have a tumultuous storm brewing within.
“Where is my Tit Maiden?! I want my Tit Maiden!”
Many of the girls present were so disgusted that even if they had been inclined to go near him―which they weren't―those words would have sent them running away screaming. Some of them actually did run away screaming.
“Waaah!”
Chapter 2
Chris Fleischer's Big Sister
“Lilian?”
“Yes, Beloved?”
“I probably shouldn't be asking this, but why are you holding onto me so tightly?”
“You're right. You shouldn't be asking that.”
“I hope that's not your way of avoiding my question.”
Kevin wanted to frown. He didn't know why, but ever since they'd left the arcade—and in fact, even before vacating the arcade, Lilian had been clinging to him like some kind of limpet.
A hot, super sexy limpet, but a limpet nonetheless.
Kevin's friends seemed to be taking in a good deal of pleasure from his discomfort. Or at least Lindsay―who they'd conveniently run into after leaving the arcade to get Lilian some Greek cuisine (“I'm craving food from the country I grew up in,” she'd said)―was taking a lot of enjoyment from his predicament. The expression on her face was that of someone who had prime seats to her favorite form of entertainment.
The others just gave him angry and jealous glares.
Except for Justin, who was staring at… something off in the distance. Kevin didn't know what, and he wasn't sure he wanted to.
“I can't believe this!” Eric appeared to be the most upset amongst their little group. While Alex and Andrew―who they'd also met at the arcade―were giving Kevin somewhat dirty looks, their stares were nothing compared to Eric's. His was a look of apoplectic rage that, in all honesty, looked far too funny for anyone to take seriously. He reminded Kevin of this baboon he'd once seen at the zoo when he was a kid; pinched face, puffed up cheeks and all.
“How dare that prick parade his relationship with my Tit Maiden in front of me!” Eric continued. However, because he was currently gnawing on his shirt, his words sounded more like a garbled, “Hn mm mmhm mm! Noh har hah hir mm hm!”
The group of seven were sitting at the small Greek restaurant that Lilian had chosen to eat at. Their table was round, possessed seven chairs, and was located in a gated section outside of the restaurant. An umbrella sat in the center to shield them from the sun. The table was so small that they were all forced to crowd around it, leaving little space for them to move.
Lilian had used this as an excuse to get closer to Kevin. She was practically sitting in his lap.
“I can't understand a word you just said,” Alex declared.
“Neither could I,” Andrew echoed.
“… Can…” That one came from Justin.
“Of course you can.” Alex rolled his eyes. “With all that screamo stuff you listen to, I'm not surprised. You're probably used to translating words that make no sense.”
“… Whatever…”
“So, you two look like you're having fun.” Lindsay ignored the byplay between the four clowns, because that's really all they were. Lindsay often thought of them as a comedy troupe.
“We had a lot of fun,” Lilian declared, giving Lindsay a frosty glare. She still didn't like the tomboyish girl. Not one bit. “My Beloved took me to the arcade and we had a blast. We shot zombies and played basketball and he got me this fox plushie.”
Lilian used her head to gesture toward the fox plushie in question, which sat on the table next to her. She would have used her arms, but they were currently wrapped around Kevin.
“Damn that bastard!” Eric growled through his tears, not of pride―this time, of anger. Comedy Anger, to be exact. “First he steals away my Tit Maiden, then he spends all day at the arcade with her and he gets her a fox plushie! This is a betrayal of the worst kind! Damn you, Kevin Swift!”
“Oh, be quiet,” Kevin grumbled. “Don't blame me for your own deficiencies. Maybe this is karma coming back to bite you for being such a lech. Perhaps this will teach you treat women with respect.” A pause. “And stop mentioning Tit Maidens!”
While the boys held their own conversation, Lindsay eyed her fellow female cautiously. That glare really was something else. Maybe it was just her, but it looked almost like those eyes hid a strange fire behind them, one that wanted to burn her alive. It might've just have been a reflection of the light, but it still made the tomboyish blond feel distinctly uncomfortable.
“Oh… i-is that so? Well, I'm glad you two had fun.” When all Lilian did was continue glaring at her, Lindsay asked, “Have I done something to offend you?”
“Not at all,” Lilian assured her, though the way her eyes penetrated Lindsay like sharp swords made everyone doubt the sincerity of her words. “You haven't done anything to offend me… yet.” Her lips quirked upwards into a smile. It was quite possibly the most artificial smile any of them had ever seen. “If you ever do upset me, though, don't worry; you'll be the first to know.”
If the tomboyish soccer player ever offended her in any way, she would be getting punished kitsune-style. Nothing said “all my hate” like a string of the most humiliating pranks ever known to man. And yes, Lilian was that vindictive.
***
The loud clicking of heels on pavement resounded through the complex as a young woman walked up to an apartment. Her dark gray business suit ruffled as she moved with a confidence that could not be copied by just anyone. She had abstained from wearing a skirt―namely because she hated skirts―instead opting to wear a pair of pants with her white shirt, dark gray suit and pants combination.
As her heeled shoes ascended the stairs, her eyes surveyed the complex in utter dismay. The walls had several large cracks running along them, there was vulgar graffiti drawn on the walls, the roof needed to be re-tiled, and the doors were chipped and had paint peeling off them. The entire place had the appearance of a derelict, run-down trash heap not even worthy of being called “home” to a hobo, much less a normal person. No sane person would choose to live in a place like this.
It really made her wonder about the sanity of the person she had come to visit; just why her little brother had picked this place to live was beyond her understanding.
She stopped in front of her destination, a door labeled 2090. Like all the other entrances, the door's red paint was chipped, peeled, and had long since faded from its original color to a much lighter shade.
She was actually kind of surprised by how old, worn and damaged the door―nay, the entire complex looked. While this certainly wasn't the ritziest part of Phoenix, it wasn't the ghetto either. She hadn't realized places like this existed outside of the slummiest parts of the city. Hell, this place looked like it might've been transported directly from a third world country in the middle of a violent secession war.
And she waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Eventually, the young woman got tired of waiting. With a large vein pulsing on her forehead, throbbing in a way that was reminiscent of She-Hulk, the woman in the business suit took a single step forward, twisted her body until she stood perpendicular to the door, lifted up her leg, cocked it back and let it fly.
There was a loud bang! like that of a high-grade explosive going off. The door swung inward, smacking against the wall with concussive force.
The woman stepped into the open entrance, her eyes sweeping across the living room with distaste. Stains covered the floor, several different kinds of sauce coated the walls in large splatters, making her think of a mad painter tossing buckets of paint, and the ceiling had so many cracks in it that the owner of the apartment probably had to worry about flooding whenever it rained.
Speaking of the owner…
“Did you really have to break down my door, sis? Shit, don't you know how fucking long it's going to take for me to fix that?”
Smirking, she turned her head to see her younger brother leaning against the wall. Her smirk widened when she saw the pitiful state he was in. His body was covered in ugly purple bruises that resembled polka dots, his face looked like someone had taken a branding iron to it, and he was missing several chunks of hair, leaving him partially bald. The bald spots also had major burns on them.
He had definitely seen better days.
“Hello, little brother. You look like shit. Did that temper of yours finally get the best of you? It looks like you got into a fight and bit off a little more than you could chew.”
“As if!”
Her little brother scowled at her, then winced as jolts of agony went up his side. Rubbing the spot that was still lanced with pain, he glared at his older sibling for even suggesting that the person who did this was stronger than him.
“She just caught me off guard! That's all!”
“Oh ho, so it's a she, is it? You mean to tell me you got your ass kicked by a woman?”
It was only after hearing the series of rhetorical questions that the younger of the two realized his mistake.
“Chris, Chris, Chris,” she repeated his name condescendingly, walking further into the room, and sitting down on his ratty old couch. She stretched out languidly, ignoring how disgusting the furniture was in favor of appearing nonchalant. Arms resting along the headrest, one leg crossed over the other, she leaned back and gave her younger brother a look of mixed disappointment and amusement. “I've told you before not to mess with a woman. Don't you know that 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned?' We're devils in disguise when we want to be; even human girls.”
“Whatever.” Chris Fleischer scowled. “I don't want to hear that from you, Kiara.”
Chris took several tiny, shuffling steps forward, using the wall for support as he made his way toward his sister. His face was etched in an expression of mild torment as he walked; his teeth were grit so hard that his gums began to bleed, the crimson liquid dribbling down his mouth and onto his chin.
“Whoa, this girl really did do a number on you,” Kiara observed as her little brother walked into the room with all the grace of a drunken kappa (a type of turtle yōkai), which was to say that he had no grace at all.
“Shut up!” Chris growled as he let go of the wall and took a step forward. “I don't want to hear―ack!” His words were cut off by a loud grunt when his body flared up in pain. Without a wall to support him, he began falling to the ground.
A soft breeze rushed past him and Chris suddenly found his momentum halted. He looked down to see an arm across his chest, followed the length of the arm up to the shoulder, neck, and finally, the face of his older sister.
“Easy there, little brother. It's clear that you're nowhere near close to being healed.”
“I don't need your help!” Chris growled, then yelped as the skin between his second and third lumbar vertebrae was pinched. He whimpered as the pinched skin was twisted painfully.
“Now, don't be an idiot, little brother,” Kiara chided the vulgar-mouthed boy as she took her finger off the nerves in his back. “It's perfectly all right to ask for help―and you really do look like you need it. Don't let your pride get in the way of asking for help.”
The foolish young man was clearly incapable of walking on his own. Just why her idiot of a brother tried to act all macho and tough was beyond her. She still remembered when he was just a brat who cried like a baby at even the slightest injury. The whole macho man act that he put on display wouldn't work on her.
“Whatever,” Chris mumbled as Kiara helped him over to the couch, rolling her eyes as she did so, “Bitch.”
He yelped again when Kiara pinched the nerves in his neck this time.
“And don't be rude, either. I didn't raise you to be an ungrateful little brat.” Kiara set Chris up on the couch and then placed her hands on her hips as she eyed the room once more. “And speaking of raising, I didn't raise you to be a slob either. Seriously, Chris, this place is disgusting. I would say it's a pigsty, but then I'd be insulting the pigs.”
“I don't see how that matters!” Kiara didn't like the look on Chris' face. “This isn't home. It's just a place for me to rest and regain my strength, nothing more. A real warrior doesn't need a place to call home.”
“Don't you start that again!” Kiara barked as anger overtook her. “I don't want to hear you paraphrasing our idiot father like that, lest you become just as bad as he is!”
“Don't call our old man an idiot!” Chris bared his teeth at the older, much more powerful inu. “Our father is a great man! The most powerful warrior of our kind!”
“Our father is a selfish old prick who abandoned our mother when he found out she was pregnant with us, and only came back once he heard we were still alive!” Kiara shot back, her narrowed eyes glaring into Chris's own angry irises. “And even then, he ended up leaving after he decided we were too weak to be related to him! Our mother died because of him! Or did you forget that?!”
“Our mother was a weak little bitch!” Chris tried to justify their father's actions by insulting their mother. It was a big mistake, quite possibly the dumbest thing he could have said. But then, Kiara knew that he'd never been the most intelligent pup in the litter. “She was just a whore who would spread her legs for any two-bit―”
SLAP!
Chris' vitriolic tirade was forced back into his mouth as Kiara slapped him, hard. It was so hard, in fact, that not only did the powerful smack force his head to nearly spin, but he also bit down on his tongue. He whimpered as blood began gushing from the two puncture marks his canines made.
“If you ever insult our mother again, mark my words Chris, I will disown you.” Kiara's voice was surprisingly calm as she spoke. “Don't forget who it is that's paying for everything you own. This apartment, disgusting as it is, is only yours because I pay for it. Those clothes on your back―I bought them for you. Even your food is paid for with the monthly stipend that I send you. Without me, you'd be out on the street, homeless, starving and with no way to make a living. That is what will happen if I disown you, and mark my words, I will if I ever hear you insult our mother again.”
“Whatever,” Chris mumbled.
“What was that?!”
“I said I'm sorry.”
Kiara glared at her younger brother, a glare that looked like it could melt through solid steel, and was easily the most frightening expression Chris had ever been on the receiving end of. If it wouldn't have caused undue stress to his still-healing wounds, he would have shivered under that glare.
“Apology accepted.” Kiara's voice was still only lukewarm. A moment passed and, with a sigh, she sat down next to Chris on the couch.
She wished she could stay mad at Chris, but the truth was, even if she didn't necessarily like Chris, he was still her brot
her, and he was the only real family she had left―their good for nothing father certainly didn't count. As far as she was concerned that dog was just a sperm donor unworthy of the title. They had lost their mother at a young age. She doubted Chris even remembered much of the woman who gave birth to him.
Recalling her mother brought back memories that she wished she didn't have. Their mother had always been a sweet, kind woman, not at all like most members of their species. She didn't hold to their prejudices; didn't believe that violence could solve anything―much less everything like most inu―and was always willing to forgive others for their past transgressions. Perhaps that was why their father had left her, only showing up again when he wanted to mate.
Kiara shook herself free of these unpleasant memories. They wouldn't help her. She loved her mother dearly, but that woman was long dead, and nothing she did could change that.
“So why don't you tell me who did this to you?” Kiara finally decided to get down to business. She could already guess that this was the reason Chris had called her up; he never called for social reasons, and had never asked her to personally come down before. That he had called now meant only one thing, and regardless of whether she disliked him as a person or not, Chris was still her younger brother. She wouldn't let whoever injured him get away with it unpunished.
***
It was a fairly late hour when Kevin and Lilian arrived back home. While the sun hadn't begun to set, it had certainly moved across the sky. Pretty soon it would dip behind the rocky peaks and sheer cliffs in the distance, painting the sky in brilliant hues of pinks, purples, reds and oranges.
They must have spent a good five or six hours at the arcade and strip mall, an amount of time that Kevin found surprising. He'd never spent more than a few hours at the arcade before, usually leaving around one or two in the afternoon. It was after four.
However, there were more important things on his mind than the time.
“Why were you so insulting to Lindsay today?” Kevin felt like his voice should have sounded much angrier than it did, and it probably would have, if he wasn't so distracted by the girl in front of him.