Haru Kobayashi
Forked Tails and First Meetings
The store reeked of damp straw, warm fur, and something vaguely pickled. Haru came in on a slow blink, shoulders a little stiff from the sheer amount of noise—chirping, barking, hissing, cooing, and something that was possibly a croak or a burp from the back wall.
He didn't want a cat. Cats were too self-satisfied. Too smug.
He didn't fancy an owl, either. Too sharp-eyed. Owls made you feel as if they were reproaching you for breathing.
Pygmy puffs? Hard pass. He was twelve, not five.
He stopped in front of a ferret cage for a full five seconds before one attempted to chew through the bars to reach his sleeve. Nope. Not that, either.
A bubbling aquarium of goldfish rested beside a reflective glass terrarium containing lizards. Haru stared. The fish blinked at nothing. The lizard licked the air. That was all either one of them did. Boring.
He made no eye contact with the rats or toads.
The spider exhibit was enclosed, but the sign itself caused him to sidestep. Another hard pass.
And snakes? No thanks. He did not want something that could get loose and disappear up into the walls. He liked his things where he could see them.
He circled the store once more, back to the middle, where a large pen with a wooden half-door held several yapping, wagging animals. Small. Brown and white. Pointed ears. Yapping so much they were nearly squeaking. One had a tail that wagged so hard it tipped over its water dish.
The sign said:
WEXFORD HALF-CRUPS
The woman behind the counter looked up. "Seeking a companion, dear?" she asked, smiling.
Haru nodded once. "Just looking," he muttered.
Yet his gaze remained on the crups.
One of them, smaller than the others, made no attempt to jump or bark. It simply stood there, looking up at him with its head tilted and large, dark eyes. Its tail—split like a snake's—wagged slowly. Once. Then again.
He leaned on the half-door. The crup came on, sat in front of him, and yawned.
"They're clever little things," the witch came around. "That one's been waiting on the right person. Hasn't bonded with anyone yet."
Haru didn't respond. He squatted. The crup placed its paws on the door and reached up, but did not scratch or whine. It merely looked at him, as if it knew.
He reached down. The crup’s tail wagged again.
Haru didn't smile, but his face eased somewhere. His fingers brushed the head of the creature—soft fur, a little coarse behind the ears. The crup nuzzled the touch as though it had been waiting forever.
The witch cackled. "You seem to have been chosen."
Haru stood up, brushing his knees. He took a last look at the crup. "What's his name?"
"Doesn't have one yet. That's up to you."
He thought for a moment. Then: "Kumo."
"Spider!?" she muttered, raising an eyebrow. "Thought you skipped the spider tank."
"I did." He said in a monotone. "This one's quiet. Like a spider. But smarter."
The witch did not ask why. "Kumo it is." Fifteen minutes later, an absurd amount of galleons handed over, leash in hand, and a small crate slung over his shoulder, Haru stepped out into the sun with Kumo trotting beside him, tongue lolling and tail swishing in tight, satisfied movements.
He'd examined every animal in the store.
Just one had turned back.
And he wasn't about to admit it, but…
…perhaps he already liked the item. Only a bit.────────────────────────────────↳ Interacting With: @
↳ Mentioning: @
↳ OOC: 583 words
