The Fox and the Martyr

Chapter 1, The New Arrival.

             "Go, go, go!" The men in the masks slammed the door shut and threw the bags of money in the backseat.

 "Step on it, Terry!" The man in the front floored the pedal, and the white car skidded before taking off down the street. The sirens wailed in the distance as the car streamed down the road. 

"Left here, Terry." The man in the front seat commanded. Terry complied. 

"Turn right at the light, Terry!" 

Everyone slowly turned around to see a grinning teenage boy wearing a backpack in the back seat. They screamed, and Terry momentarily lost control over the car. He frantically ran through the red light, narrowly missing passing cars

The two men at the back raised their pistols at the boy who quickly raised his hands in surrender. "Friendly! Friendly! I'm friendly!" 

"How the hell did you get into the car, runt?" The boy made a face as the sirens got closer. 

"You're driving a 2000 Toyota 4 Runner. It was practically unlocked." 

"Don't you dare insult Zippy!" Terry growled from the front seat. The guy in the front seat nudged Terry, silencing him. 

"That's not important! What are you doing in our car?"

"I want in."

 "You want in on what?" 

The boy raised a money bag. "What do you think?"

 "You think this is some joyride, kid? Don't make me laugh." 

"I don't think it's a joke. That's why I brought a gift." He unzipped his duffel bag, drawing out a large leather bag. He opened the back window, and unloosened the knot, spilling the contents of the bag onto the streets behind them. The boy chuckled mischievously as he closed the window. 

"What the hell were those?" One of the backseat passengers asked. 

"Makibishis."

They all had a blank look. The boy rolled his eyes and held up the spiky ball.

"Lots of these. They pop cop tires." The men in the backseat exchanged impressed looks.

"Anyway," the boy continued. "All I'm asking for is less than 1% of the final cost, nothing more." He gazed at the boss expectantly. "Oh, and I've memorized all your faces, so you can't really leave me here." 

"What's to stop you from putting lead in your chest, then?" The boss growled.

 "You aren't killers." The boy looked around at their dumbfounded faces. "What? If you're going to join a band of criminals, you do your research." 

"He's got a point, boss." The backseat criminal whispered. The boss groaned and turned around. "I hope you have more of those Mitsubishi's, kid, because this is gonna be quite the drive." The boy grinned and pulled out another bag.

〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰

"Spence, were the handcuffs necessary?" 

The four criminals stood in a large warehouse, in front of the boy who was handcuffed to a chair. 

"Yes. We still don't know if we can trust him." He turned back to the boy. "Alright, kid. What's your name?" 

The boy grinned. "Actually, I want to know your names first." 

"I thought you did your research?" 

"If research could tell me that much, you guy would have been arrested by now." 

The boss sighed. 

"I'm Spencer, the shot caller. Terry is the driver." 

Terry made finger guns at the boy who nodded with a grand smile.

 "The two over there are Davis and Reed,"

 "Yo." Davis said, raising his hand. Reed just waved. 

"They're the muscle."

 Spencer folded his arms. "Now," He continued. "Your name."

 The boy thought for a minute. "You can call me Kitsune."

 "Kitsu-what?" 

"Kitsune." Davis stated. "A Japanese mischief spirit." 

The boy grinned at him. "Someone knows their mythology!" 

"Alright, Kitsune. What exactly do you bring to the table?" 

"Well, I make the best ramen you'll ever eat." 

Spencer grit his teeth, regretting his actions. 

"Dude, I'm kidding." He stood up from the chair and dropped the unlocked handcuffs on the ground. "Kidding about the serious part. I really do make the best ramen." 

The men stood dumbfounded, watching the boy grab his duffel bag. "How did you-?" 

Kitsune raised a Bobby pin over his head without looking at him, then tucked it into his sleeve. From the bag he drew out three red sheathed katanas. There was one large one, one medium sized one, and a smaller one. They were decorated with gold trimming and a gold dragon was painted onto the hilt. Kitsune drew the medium sword and began to intricately swing it around, showing everyone he knew what he was doing. When he stopped, the men stared at him, dumbfounded. 

"Someone shoot me." 

"Excuse me?" Spencer said.

 "Come on, use your gun and fire a round at me."

 "Why the hell would I-" 

"just do it, old man."

 Spencer aggravatedly raised his M1911 and fired a round right at him. Like lightning, Kitsune drew the smaller katana and sliced through the bullet like butter. The men stood silent in awe. 

"Okay, kid. You're crazy."

"Oh, don't look at me like that, I know they're rubber rounds. I'm not crazy enough to ask for an actual bullet to the face."

Spencer sighed. "Alright, fine. You're in."

 "Great!" Kitsune exclaimed happily.  "When's our-"

 he was interrupted by the creak of an opening door. Kitsune quickly drew the short sword, but Spencer waved him off. 

"Daddy? I heard a scary noise."

 A young girl, about 6 years old, had wandered into the garage dragging a soft blue blanket behind her. 

Spencer gently walked over and patted her head. 

"Oh, don't worry Livvie. It probably wasn't anything. Go back to bed now."

 "But daddy, I can't. I'm scared." she said shakily. Spencer sighed.

 "I have just the thing!" Kitsune was ruffling through his bag again. He pulled out a small vile of dark green liquid out of the side pocket. "It's Chamomile oil. Put it in tea or another drink, and it'll help you sleep."

"Daddy, who's that?" 

"That's Kitsune. He's a... friend, and he's going to be staying with us."

 "A friend? Will he play with me?" 

Kitsune smiled. "I will definitely play with you. But first," he came over to Livvie. "Do you like milk, Livvie?"

 She nodded. "Alright, let's get you some milk. I have a secret potion that will help you sleep. Can you show me the fridge?"

 Kitsune followed the girl out of the garage. 

"The kid's something else, isn't he?" Reed said, watching the door close. Spencer was also watching. 

"He really is."