A Hound Should Never Want for a Fox

Chapter 7

The old man was in my den, again. The dog let him in, treacherous thing. He stood in my kitchen, reeking of tobacco and illness. My baby wriggled and whined in my arms, but I refused to set him down. I didn't trust the old man. I didn't like the way my dog was on edge around him. I didn't like the way he looked at me and my baby with calculative eyes. He was apparently the leader of this human settlement. Hmph. No accounting for taste.

He smiled almost fondly at the way my baby tried in vain to escape my hold. "Oh, dear. He's quite spirited."

"Yes."

If he was put off by my curt response, he hid it well. Commendable. Some humans never learned to control themselves, no matter how old they managed to get.

"I confess, I came here with a purpose."

"I know."

He did react then, with a bitter laugh that seemed aimed at himself more than me. He looked at my baby, eyes sad and distant. I turned my body, hiding the child from that gaze. The old man laughed again. Was he, perhaps, insane?

"You have no idea how grateful I am that you are here," he said with a sigh. His expression regained its neutrality when looking at me. "Really. I have failed that child in so many ways. The knowledge that there is now someone who will not allow me to continue on that path is quite heartening."

"You don't matter to me."

He nodded. "Yes, this is exactly what I mean."

I had no idea what strange fantasies he was indulging, but I had no intention of letting him use me or my baby to do it.

"If you're done, you should leave."

The dog, who I'd ignored quite pettily up 'til now, stiffened where he stood in the doorway. Humans were still so strange to me, even after living a quarter of my life with them. Granted, that was almost a century ago, but my memories were still clear. He was a dog. The old man was not. So, why did he treat this unwanted guest like a pack leader? Was I missing something?

Hmm, maybe it was because my dog was still a pup. No, that didn't make sense. There was a whole pack of dogs in this village. He didn't live with them, though...

Whatever. So long as my baby was safe and happy, I couldn't care less about the complex inner lives of humans. Even if it did mean sharing time and affection with 'Nu-nu'. Ugh.

The old man laughed at my words again. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid I still have business with you." He looked around the room. "Shall I arrange for this place to be furnished?"

"I don't need it."

"No, I suppose you don't. But Naruto will." He looked at me with suddenly sharp eyes. "You do know that's his name, yes?"

Of course, I knew. I just didn't care. Whatever names humans gave him, he would always be my baby.

"It's the name his parents chose for him," he continued, clearly not expecting an answer. "It was their hope that he would grow to emulate his namesake and one day become a good hearted shinobi."

"Odd, for a parent to wish pain upon their child."

The room was filled with thick silence, but only because they knew I was right. Though my time in the human realm predated the shinobi villages, my last summoner was a kunoichi. A 'good heart' was nothing but a source of pain for those who walked that path.

The old man shook his head and reached up as though to adjust a pipe he wasn't smoking. He floundered for a moment before choosing to stroke his short beard, instead. "You aren't wrong," he said sadly. "I think it was also their wish to create a world where it wouldn't hurt him, but they never got the chance."

Wishful thinking. Humans were territorial, covetous animals. Though they were capable of goodness, it almost always backfired on them. My heart ached with long buried memories, and I bared my teeth in frustration.

"What do you want?"

The old man once again glanced at my baby—for courage? How ridiculous. "He cannot be known by his father's name. There are many people who would rush to kill anyone who bears it. I was originally going to give him his mother's, though that line has its own weighty history, but he no longer needs the paltry protection it could give him." He looked me straight in the eye, and if I were human, I might have actually felt the weight of his years in command. Alas, I was older than him. "So, as his mother in all but blood, I ask you: will you share your name with him?"

Ah. So that's what he wanted. Honestly, he could have just asked.

Even so...It wasn't an easy decision to make.

I looked down at the baby in my arms. He long ago realized the futility of trying to escape and was now focused on trying to pick at the embroidery on my clothing with his week, uncoordinated baby hands. Cheeky brat. I could already picture his frustrated face when he realized it was all an illusion and there were no threads for him to pull free. A smile spread across my face.

"Alright," I said flippantly. "Why not?" It wouldn't be a total lie to share my name with him. After all, the Grand Elder was sealed inside him.

The old man cleared his throat. "Yes, well, what is your name?"

Hmm? Had I never told them? Well, I suppose I had no reason to share it, given the only person I cared about couldn't even say it—though he managed to say dog easily enough.

"Tawamura Kōsa." The sound of my own name felt oddly thick in my mouth. "Tawamura, with the characters for playful, and Kōsa from the line 'golden sands on northern winds'."

"Poetic."

"I know."

The old man tugged at his beard some more before nodding. "This is what we'll do. I will file the necessary paperwork to have 'Tawamura Kōsa' become an immigrant from the Land of Wind. This will give you an official identity in the Village. Then, I will have your name added to Naruto's adoption papers. This way, he will be able to learn more about his parents should he ever wish to."

I didn't say anything. The old man wasn't asking for opinion or suggestions. He was giving orders. Whatever. I didn't need any of that to do what I needed to do, but I could see how my baby's life might be improved by it all. The instant the opposite became true, I could just take him away.

The old man stepped toward me and my tail bristled in warning. He ignored it and reached for my baby. The infant didn't yet know the difference between friend and foe and reached back eagerly.

"Hello, Tawamura Naruto. It's nice to meet you."

Ugh. That name sounded so strange. Was it too late to change it?