Nine Tails, One Smile: A Tale of Love and Loss
“Run, Taka! Don’t look back!”
“Remember, we love you so much!”
“Please, Taka… live!”
Their voices were the last pieces of his family he would ever carry. Taka ran, flames clawing at his skin, the rumble of the Horde’s horses echoing as screams faded behind him. His small legs pounded the earth, through ruins, scorched fields, and lifeless homes, the scent of ash and death thick in the air.
He fell, collapsing onto muddy earth, tears soaking into the ground. Above him, towering trees whispered in the breeze, filtering sunlight through thick green leaves.
Why did this happen? Mama, Papa, Kumi…
He pounded the dirt with bloodied knuckles, trying to replace grief with pain. But pain only joined the anger, weaving into the despair rooted in his heart.
“I’ll kill them all,” he whispered, but even as he vowed vengeance, the loneliness swallowed him.
Deep in that forest, a young Gumiho with nine silver tails lifted her nose, catching the scent of human blood. Her crimson eyes brightened as she whispered:
“A human. Finally.”
She raced through the forest like moonlight on water, tails swaying, ready to feast on a warm human liver.
Taka leaned against a tree, vision blurring, ready to surrender to darkness. Then rustling. Red eyes blinked through the branches, and from the shadows stepped a girl with silver hair, pointed ears twitching, fangs bared, and nine tails shimmering behind her. A Gumiho.
Taka trembled. He had heard the stories. Gumihos devoured wandering men, feasting on hearts.
But as she approached, Taka closed his eyes.
Just let it end.
He was tired of being alone.
The Gumiho leaned in, sniffing. “So scrawny…” she murmured, her eyes narrowing as she realized his spirit was slipping away. Frustration crossed her face.
“Drat! I can’t eat a corpse.”
She darted off, returning with herbs she chewed into a paste, pressing it onto his wounds, tearing her own dress to bandage him. As stars lit the sky, she lay beside him, watching the rise and fall of his chest.
“What am I doing?” she wondered, brushing hair from his forehead.
Taka shivered in fever, whispering in his sleep. “Mama… Papa… Kumi…”
She hesitated, then wrapped him in her nine tails to warm him. His trembling stopped, and for the first time, the Gumiho felt peace.
In his sleep, Taka turned, wrapping his arms around her. She froze, blushing, feeling his warmth and breath on her cheek. Her gaze drifted to his lips, then to his closed eyes as tears slipped down.
“I’m scared to be alone,” he whispered.
She pressed her forehead to his, pulling his memories into herself. Flames. Screams. His sister’s cries. The Horde’s laughter.
Tears welled in the Gumiho’s eyes. For the first time, she felt compassion.
She held him closer. “You’re safe now,” she whispered.
The next morning, Taka awoke to her red eyes studying him. Silence passed before she crossed her arms.
“You will stay here until the moon smiles again, human.”
Taka understood—until the crescent moon returned. He agreed. She had saved him, and he owed her his life.
But then she surprised him.
“Give me a name.”
“A name?” Taka asked, bewildered.
“I want to learn your ways. So give me a human name.”
She smiled. “Call me Kumi.”
His heart clenched. “That’s my sister’s name.”
“I’m not replacing her. I just want to be seen as more than a monster.”
Taka sighed. “Then… Kumi.”
Days turned into nights under the forest’s emerald canopy. Kumi taught Taka how to call fireflies, weave cloth from spider silk, find healing plants, and listen to the moon’s whispers. In return, Taka taught her to read and count, to fish instead of hunt humans, and to dance beneath firefly light. Laughter returned to Taka’s heart as they danced, weaving a paradise between the trees.
But the crescent moon finally returned.
“Kumi, it’s time. Lead me out.”
Tears rimmed her eyes. “Stay. If you leave, I must erase your memories.”
Taka touched her hand. “Even if I forget your face, I’ll remember your warmth. Show me your smile, Kumi. That’s all I want to carry.”
She smiled, radiant through her tears, and led him hand in hand. Fireflies lit the path, leaves waving like a farewell.
At the forest’s edge, vines parted, revealing the outside world. Kumi lowered her gaze, clutching Taka’s hand.
“I’ll miss you,” he whispered. “Promise me you’ll remember me.”
Tears fell as she kissed him softly, a warmth neither understood fully but both felt deeply.
“I promise,” she whispered.
Taka turned, stepping toward the world that needed him, a world he would fight to protect. Behind him, Kumi wept, calling his name as vines closed, hiding him from her view.
On the other side, Taka paused, hand over his heart, sensing something missing yet warm within him.
“I could’ve sworn someone called my name,” he whispered, before walking on to the promise of tomorrow.
Moral of the Story:
Even in a world of pain and loss, kindness and connection can heal even the loneliest hearts.
