The Foxes Hunt the Hounds

Among the cultures of the world, most people never saw a psychopomp when they were taking a soul. Maybe if you were unlucky enough to be present when someone passed, you would hear the soft last breath of the dead. They were easier to see when someone died violently and painfully.

Red hadn't intended to be one such person.

He was walking from his workshop, back to his family's manor, late one night. He just happened to pass an alley and glance down it at the right time to witness a murder. A man slit another man's throat. A line of red seeped from the unlucky victim's throat as his body collapsed. His last breath was drawn as the murderer ran off, never noticing Red standing there. In shock, he couldn't bring himself to do something.

A cold wind blew down the alley and goosebumps formed on his skin. It wasn't from the cold. He watched faintly as a shadow pulled away from the brick wall of the alley. It lightened as it approached the corpse, twisting and expanding into a human form. When it finally sank to its knees next to the body, Red couldn't breathe.

It was a young man, dressed in simple white clothes that appeared to be peeled from the history documentary Red had watched last week about the Tang dynasty. Dark hair was braided back, tied with a red ribbon. Red would never admit it, but his first thought at seeing the face of death wasn't fear. Rather, his throat closed at the clear beauty.

Unnoticed by the wraith, he watched as a hand was placed over the dead man's heart. A small ball of grey soon rose from the corpse, coming to rest in the wraith's hand. He almost wanted to swoon- taking a soul shouldn't be so graceful. The wraith cupped the soul and placed it in a small bag tied to his belt. He rose to his feet and Red let out a quiet sigh.

He whirled around at the noise.

They met eyes.

For a long, quiet moment, the world was silent as Red looked into the pretty brown eyes of Death.

And then the psychopomp, the sight which struck fear into the hearts of men and had been doing so for centuries, gave a little dorky wave. Without waiting for a response- which was good because Red had no idea how to respond to that- the shadows bent around the wraith. And then he was gone.

Red stared at the space where he had been. He wanted him to come back. He wondered how to get in contact with someone as ancient as that. He glanced at the body and made a face. Besides, you know... He started considering that as he pulled out his phone.

"Hello, 110? I need to report a murder."

Red had placed the thought of somehow meeting the pretty psychopomp again well out of his mind after weeks of dead end research that lent no reasonable way. Months after that, he had almost been convinced that he had been his imagination.

And then his so-called uncle murdered someone.

Okay, Macaque wasn't his uncle. He was an old family friend and Red was pretty sure he wasn't even that. But he had hung around his family for as long as he could remember. He was pretty sure this wasn't his first murder and when he asked after stumbling onto the scene, Macaque had frowned. "Have to get into contact with someone, kid." was the only answer he received.

But right now, Macaque had returned to the party his parents were throwing, leaving Red frantically trying to clean the mess in his parents basement, not caring too much that his suit was getting ruined. And then goosebumps formed on his skin and the shadows warped and out stepped the pretty psychopomp. The dark aura vanished as he stared at him. In his frightened state of trying to clean up a murder and mind going to goo at seeing him again, Red had only one thing to say in his frantic mindstate.

"This isn't what it looks like."

"I...see." The psychopomp said finally. His feet landed on the floor and Red realized that he was the same height as him. He stepped closer to the mess, eyes filling with recognition. "It's you. From the alley. You waved at me."

"I didn't do this." he blurted out again. "Trust me, I spent a few weeks trying to figure out how to meet you again and this definitely didn't come to mind..." Red shut up as the wraith settled next to him. He really hoped that the blood wasn't staining his pretty outfit.

The same ritual from the alley was performed, leaving him waiting in silence. Then the wraith turned to eye him and he regretted not being cleaner. "You wanted to see me again? Why?"

Red stared at those pretty brown eyes, now noticing that they had little golden flecks in them. There was a moment of silence before the wraith went "Oh." He looked away, flushing. "That...huh. I figured that it would be...Xiaotian." He held out his hand. "My name is Xiaotian."

"Red." Red breathed, taking his hand. It was a moment too late before he remembered that his hands were still bloody. "Sorry, I didn't...I don't make a habit of lingering around murders hoping to see the personification of Death." He was either gonna thank or strangle Macaque for putting him in this situation. That thought ended at the sound of Xiaotian's soft laughter.

"Sorry, but I'm not Death." Xiaotian smiled, wiping his hand on the floor. "This is kinda a...debt thing." He gestured to his outfit and Red raised a brow. He continued with an explanation. "My father pissed off the gods of Diyu when he went on a rampage to become immortal a few centuries back and they're still mad about it." He pulled out a yellow phone from some invisible pocket, a sticker of some kind of monkey face on the back. "How about we exchange numbers. Much cleaner then..." He gestured to the murder scene. "This."

"Sure. Great idea." Red breathed out the words, now very deeper in love with Xiaotian, as he took the phone and typed his number in. After he gave it back, he watched as the love of his life reached over. He wanted to gasp as warm golden magic trickled down his arm as Xiaotian's finger ran down his arm. When he pulled away, Red's arm was marked with a phone number.

Xiaotian rose to his feet, giving a bow. The shadows curled around him.

Before he disappeared, one last sentence was given to him.

"See you, Red."

And then he was gone.

Red couldn't help but stare for a good few minutes before snapping back to reality. He finished up his clean-up and drifted upstairs to change. The party was still in full swing, so he took one of the secret passages around his house. He entered his room and collapsed on his bed, making a note to tell Macaque that the murder had been cleaned up later. He had more important things to do.

The number on his arm was typed into his phone and he named the contact Xiaotian , with a little heart emoji following it. After a moment of thought, he added a monkey emoji. He smiled at his ceiling after saving the contact, head in the clouds.

Despite the murder, today had been a good day.