Life in the Beastly Wilds
SILENCE.
“It’s so quiet…” I said to myself as I awoke.
An old-fashioned lamp framed with a wooden shade hung from the ceiling, and I found myself bewildered and disoriented by it. What was this place? Was I on vacation? That lamp looked like something you’d see in a traditional Japanese inn.
I looked around the room in search of further clues and saw some sliding shōji screens that might have been doors to another room or perhaps a built-in closet. It was only when I saw the futon cover I was sleeping under—which had a somewhat gaudy yet nostalgic pattern—that I finally remembered where I was. Yesterday, I’d moved into my great-grandpa’s house.
Last night, Techi and the little chipmunks had helped me straighten out the place. After that, I’d enjoyed a simple meal of instant curry with packet rice, bathed, brushed my teeth…and then I guess I had changed into my pajamas and tumbled into bed. Techi and the kids must’ve prepared a futon for me before they left.
I remembered staggering about after my bath, my mind already foggy with sleepiness, fantasizing about crawling into a cozy bed and repeatedly vocalizing my tiredness. I may’ve been exhausted by the move, but I still wondered about the various ways I’d made a fool of myself. I scratched my head frantically…then abruptly got to my feet, folded up the futon, and stuffed it into the closet.
The bathroom was next. I washed my face with the uncomfortably cold water and gently rinsed out my mouth, all the while wondering what to do about breakfast. Since there was a microwave oven, I decided to have another portion of that instant curry and rice and headed for the kitchen.
Once the rice and the curry pouches were fully heated up, I picked out an appropriate plate to eat my curry on and grabbed a spoon and cup. I thought it was a bit lazy to eat in the kitchen, so I took everything to the living room.
There was an imposing low table positioned right in the center of the room, so I laid everything out on it and sat down on one of the floor cushions. I sat so I faced the window that looked out onto the veranda. Upon closer inspection, it seemed that I’d accidentally left it open overnight.
I put my hands together, voiced thanks for my meal, and grabbed my spoon. And so, I sat and ate my breakfast in the most refined surroundings, savoring the unmistakable taste of instant pouch curry. About half a minute into my meal, I happened to look out onto the veranda in front of me, and I saw a large chipmunk had quietly appeared.
It was staring at me in silence. I stared back and noticed it was wearing clothing. This was no ordinary chipmunk then, but a beastchild—presumably one of the kids who’d worked in the orchard yesterday. No sooner had I thought this than the chipmunk kid scurried over to the table and sat down next to me, still watching me intently.
“Morning,” I said.
“Morning!” replied the child cheerfully, continuing to stare at me.
“Um…” I said next, somewhat distracted by those cute, round eyes. “…Can I help you with something?”
“Um,” replied the child, tilting their head slightly. “Techi told me to come and get you! She said if you were eating breakfast, I should wait till you’re finished and then bring you to the orchard. So…I’m waiting for you to finish your food!”
“I see,” I mumbled with a small nod.
I resumed eating my curry so that the day’s work could also begin. Once the curry was gone, I took everything back to the kitchen and left it to soak in the sink. At this point, I remembered that I was still in my pajamas, so I went to my bedroom to put on some more suitable clothes—a long-sleeved shirt and some slacks.
I was pretty sure the young chipmunk was a boy, so I quickly changed even though he was still watching me. After that, I brushed my teeth and found myself thinking about all the chores that’d be waiting for me when I returned. Once I was ready to go, I headed for the front door, put on my shoes, and stepped outside.
No sooner had I done so than I realized I hadn’t locked the doors. I didn’t even have the house keys on me. But I figured that the place had been left wide open before I’d even arrived and everything was just fine, so I happily gave up the idea. The watchful child was, of course, still watching intently the whole time. We set off toward the orchard together.
“So, what’s your name then?” I asked the child along the way. “My name’s Mikura, by the way.”
The child had been scurrying along the ground quite happily, like a wild chipmunk would. They stopped, turned around, and answered my question.
“That’s right! You’re Mikura! I’m Kon! Nice to meet’cha! I’m a boy, by the way!”
Kon.
I suspected that this too was a shortened version of some longer, much stranger name. Kon struck me as a name you’d give a fox, not a chipmunk. That in turn made me wonder what other species of beastfolk might live in these woods—surely, there must be some foxes too? Indeed, I read a book once that described a range of other beastfolk species. If memory served, there were also boars, bears, foxes, raccoons, badgers, serows, cats, and dogs.
A handful of beastfolk did actually live on the human side of the border, serving as goodwill ambassadors to Japan. However, they always made an effort to conceal their animal features, hiding ears and tails beneath hats, hoods, or other clothes. Some even skillfully used elaborate hairstyles for the purpose. At a glance, you’d think you were just dealing with an eccentric human being.
However, the beastfolk in human books, as well as those appearing in our TV dramas and anime, were only based on the faintest impressions of the writers and producers—products of fertile imaginations, exaggerated for dramatic purposes. I think it’s safe to say those creators had no idea that there were beastfolk out there who were virtually indistinguishable from wild animals, like little Kon.
Well, even if they were to somehow get a glimpse of the little guy, most people would probably assume they were simply seeing a large chipmunk or a plush toy.
But with his wide, round eyes, his adorable movements, his perfect coat of fur; gleaming and smooth, clearly subject to regular baths…his was an entirely different charm than that of an animal or a plush toy. I wondered why.
Was it because he understood human speech? Yes, perhaps, though that still aligned with his age. But while his speech and his gestures were very much like a preschooler’s, there was something animal-like about them as well. Perhaps you could say it was that mix of childlike and wildlife that was the root of his charm.
I mulled this over until the orchard was in sight, the children all lined up in a row with Techi standing over them. At that point, Kon went from a run to a sprint and joined the other kids, quite out of breath. Techi shot the smallest of glances my way, as if to make sure Kon had brought the right person, and she proceeded to pat him on the head and praise him lavishly. Once he’d been sufficiently pampered, she turned her attention to the rest of the group.