John took a deep breath before knocking on the door to the bath. "Yuki, I have some clothes for you when you're ready," he called, "If you're not, I'll leave it folded by the door.”
He heard the kitsune rise out of the tub, water pouring off her, before stepping out. "There's no rush!" he hurriedly added, but a moment later, he felt the warmth of Yuki's Presence crash into him, bright light and warmth pouring through the paper door. It was intense, even through it, and he looked away and blinked away spots. It didn't last long, though. The door cracked open, and a furry arm reached through the crack, no longer soaking wet but extremely fluffed up.
"Hmm?" he heard Yuki say, plus some fabric swishing noises as she unfolded the clothes, but no complaints.
"Make sure to do up the metal parts," he said. Sadly, he had yet to even learn the character for "clasps," never mind knowing how to say it.
There was no verbal response from the kitsune, but he heard Yuki shift around inside. Perhaps a minute later, the door slid open, confusion evident on her face. The new robe… housecoat thing fit her decently, even if it was a bit loose. Still, it should be plenty warm, given the material. She was also dry yet so, so frizzy. Maybe he should have focused on that first. Where she was previously sleek, this made her look almost double the width, more like a bear than a fox. Still, the bath had clearly done her good. She no longer held herself like someone finishing up a graveyard shift, and her eyes held that warm look once more.
"Why do you happen to have something my size on hand?" she confusedly asked, pinching one of the sleeves and adjusting it.
"I didn't. I made that," John responded.
"Earlier? How did you get my measurements?" Yuki asked, blinking and tilting her head.
He shook his head, saying, "No, just now. I used this as a template." He patted the still dirty clothing held under his arm. In retrospect, he probably would have to give his clothes a good wash now, too. Oh well, that's why he had about a dozen spares. "I was unfamiliar with the material of your kimono and didn't want to ruin it or bother you while you were bathing," he explained, "So I whipped something up real fast. Nothing special, but it's serviceable."
She looked blankly down at the robe. "How? The amount of sewing alone without being physically faster…" she questioned.
He shrugged. "Look at the seams. I used a tool to make the fabric liquid," he began before stopping to check his book. Sadly, he saw no word that would fit. "Well, not quite liquid. Kind of half-liquid? I merged them so I didn't have to sew, and cutting fabric sections to roughly mimic your kimono's proportions was pretty easy. Is the tail slit the right size, or is it too tight?"
She examined the seams and opened her mouth, clearly fighting to find her words before sighing. "Everything fits well enough, especially for such a rush job. It's not that I am unthankful, but why do this rather than just cleaning my kimono?"
His ability to find the words failed him momentarily, and he returned to writing. "Two reasons. One, I didn't want to risk ruining it as I am unfamiliar with the material and wanted to ask you more first. Two, I know from experience that having only one set of clothes sucks."
A faint but warm smile crossed her muzzle. "That it does," she admitted. "Thank you. You're an excellent host, John. For future reference, it washes just fine with warm water and soap."
He felt like he did the bare minimum that one should when someone trips onto your doorstep, injured and alone. Hell, he almost didn't even do that! Maybe standards were different here, or perhaps she was buttering him up. Either way, he had questions burning at the back of his mind. Ones that should not wait longer now that she had time to gather herself.
John put a smile on his face. "Thank you," he said, "I do have some things I'd like to talk to you about. Would you mind following me to the room where we've been having our lessons?"
Yuki nodded in response, and as he led her to the sitting room, he felt his mind start spinning again. Earlier, he had suppressed it, busting himself while she rested, but now? Everything was coming back in full force. Why did she go feral? What was that thing that she tore out of the spider? Would it happen again? These and more tore through his mind, quiet unease following in their wake.
They sat opposite, and John put some paper on the table, sliding a sheet and some writing implements over to Yuki. He didn't trust his lacking mastery over the spoken word to carry the day here, and it may involve a lot of phrases and characters that they hadn't gone over yet. "What was that orb you tore out of the Nameless and ate?" he wrote, short and simple.
Yuki's smile didn't falter as she took up her brush without missing a beat, writing a quick response. "That was its soul."
John leaned back, staring blankly at the ceiling. Fine. Of course, the mysterious, ancient kitsune who broke out of prison randomly went feral and ate souls. Why wouldn't she? He could feel a headache coming on, and the conversation had just begun. He heard Yuki clear her throat, and he snapped back to her.
She tapped her sheet, pointing to a few new sentences she had written. "The soul is an anchor for magic and a record of one's impact on the world. By anchoring it to the physical and claiming it, one can strip both from it to metaphysically bolster one's self. They still pass on, eventually, and the afterlife does much of the same, so it's really just accelerating the process a bit and using it to one's own ends is all. Is this not something you're familiar with from the spirits of your home?"
Shit! It must be common here, or at least to the point where regular folk may be expected to know of the process. He could process that bit about a confirmed afterlife later; he had to come up with a lie now!
"My upbringing was very sheltered," he wrote out, "I'm afraid that my experiences with magic and spirits were next to none."
The silence was palpable.
"Not even stories about such?" Yuki curiously asked, switching back to speaking, and he shook his head.
"There were a few. Half the stories I was told as a child turned out to be rather untrue, and I put that down as one." The lie came to him surprisingly easily, even though it felt awful to write out. Her gaze bored into him, and he thought for a second that she must know, that she must see right through—
Yuki looked away and laughed airily. "I can only imagine how strange your homeland would seem to me. Perhaps one day you could tell me more about it."
"One day," he responded, dread starting to creep in, "For now, I have more questions." Great. He was on a timer now, especially if she got curious or started asking questions. How long could he keep lying to her, especially if she starts prying? For all he knew, this planet may have had a history with visitors from another universe, and revealing such to Yuki might result in her summarily ripping his throat out despite how friendly she's been thus far.
He had to write some notes to help him keep his story straight… In English, of course, like most of his personal notes were already written in. Even if Yuki found them, she'd undoubtedly dismiss them as nothing unusual.
"Why did your demeanour change when you attacked that spider?" John asked, although his phrasing was more delicate than he felt like he should be. He had a sneaking suspicion that his guest might object to having her behaviour described as "feral."
"What do you mean? All I did was kill a spider," she asked, voice as smooth and low as always, and he blinked in disbelief, shaking his head. Yuki tittered, covering her muzzle with a hand before swapping back to writing. "I'm sorry, I couldn't resist! No, to extract the soul of something, you have to tear it out from something's heart either before death or within seconds after. It's a quick and clean process on most things, but things must realize their imminent death on some level to tear it free intact rather than in pieces, which is hard to do to a beast without brutally tearing it apart."
That… was strangely logical and nowhere near as bad as he feared. Of course, that assumed Yuki was telling the truth. Still, he felt like she had at least earned the benefit of the doubt at this point. "Did you enjoy it?" he asked.
She nodded. "Yes." He shivered. No attempt to lie, no deflection, just clear admission with no hint of guilt. Even if one passed one eventually, he can't imagine having your soul stripped down to its core was a terribly pleasant process.
Now, here's the big one. "Have you done that to people before?"
"Of course," she wrote, not hesitating even the slightest bit before answering. Her matter-of-fact attitude sent a spike of cold dread directly into his gut, and he sat up straight and instinctually leaned away from her before he could suppress his reactions. "Are you afraid of me doing that to you?" She questioned, a frown slipping onto her face.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
The silence was deafening; he could not bring himself to write or speak.
"I wouldn't," she borderline cooed, a comforting, warm smile slipping back onto her face, "I enjoy your presence far too much to do something horrible like that… But if that's not enough, there are practical reasons I wouldn't, either. I'm far too interested in your knowledge to toss it away like that, not to mention that the souls of yokai and—" There's that word for elites again! "--are the only things with enough metaphysical weight to make it worth my time. It'd be like chasing down an individual grain of rice while also depriving myself of a pleasant conversationalist."
That… tracked the more he thought about it, and his speeding heartbeat slowed as he thought it over. Even if Yuki was a sociopath willing to eat somebody's soul for the slightest reason, it'd make zero sense to target him. Hell, she probably would have torn apart those soldiers earlier. She did threaten to eat their hearts, didn't she? "What about the soldiers, then?" he asked.
"Them?" Yuki chuffed. "I would have followed through on my threat if needed, but more to scare them off in the future than for anything. If they didn't back down, I would have lept down, put a hand through one of their chests, probably the leader's, and scooped his soul, and then the rest would have fled. It might come across as a bit harsh, but it may have ultimately saved us a lot of annoyance in the long run."
Even though it had been only a few days, it was sometimes easy to forget that Yuki wasn't just a big, fuzzy person. No, she was a yokai through and through, with centuries of experience and a genuinely alien mindset at times. At least, he hoped that was the reason. What if that was just the typical mindset of those in power around here? After all, Aiki seemed scared of mundane folk getting more power to any degree. Could he be even more alone than he suspected?
Still, his concerns were addressed, at least somewhat. Yuki had clear answers, sure, but he had no way of verifying any of this, even if the kitsune hadn't steered him wrong yet. Part of him couldn't help but wonder… was it a big deal if she was even lying to him? Even if it was some abominable act by the standards of local morality, she was also the only person to talk to him in half a decade and was his only way out of this entire morass he had found himself in.
He was surviving just fine, sure, but would he ever thrive? Could he? It hurt to admit, but all that needed to happen to drop him back into the muck was one bad day, and even if something didn't immediately kill him, a bad flu could leave him bedbound with nobody to help, or a broken ankle could leave him forever unable to maintain his residence due to a lack of proper medical care or time to rest.
He'd move on and just circle back later, he guessed. "So, how about the tiredness? Is it anything we have to worry about?" he questioned.
"Part of my weakened state, I'm afraid," she responded, ears dipping as she wrote, "Some of the venoms that helped contain me still flow through my veins even now." She saw him straighten and held a hand up before he could interrupt. "Worry not, even though I am diminished by other factors; the poison only causes me a bit of soreness and tiredness when I exert mystical might."
His eyes widened as realization hit him. That's why the kitsune was worried about the water gauze at first! Yuki's… experiences with toxins must have left her wary. Shit, he would have tried to find another way if he knew about them! There was no telling how they might have reacted with one another; it could have caused—
Yuki cleared her throat, and he snapped back to her, cheeks faintly reddening. "Apologies. I must have spaced out. Now that my concerns have been dealt with, would you mind if we moved on to our lessons for the day?"

 
With every word, involuntary gesture, and question unasked, Yuki understood more, even if the mystery only grew in turn. Again, John only asked the most direct, obvious questions. Why? "Of course," she responded verbally, with a smile, laying out her rather… lacklustre attempt at his advanced mathematics on the table and sliding it over to him.
Some were familiar, the examples more than enough to make it clear that they were the same concepts, just organized… differently. More neatly, Yuki dared say. Others were alien, and she struggled to see what they were doing, let alone their practicality, but they were clearly part of the guiding logic behind his artifice in some way.
As he read them over, and his focus slipped away from her in turn, she watched and listened as his body responded. His heartbeat slowed. His legs untensed. On its own, she'd take it to mean his doubts were assuaged and that he was less terrified of her than he was prior. Yuki was under no delusions about how he felt during that long ride home, with how his eyes lingered on her gore-slicked muzzle, even if it broke her heart. Alas, responding directly to those anxieties and revealing she noticed would only worsen them. She should have thought a bit longer rather than letting her impulses control her, but what was done was done.
Regardless, that little fact wasn't on its own. Whenever the pair talked, he never asked much about the nation or even her past, even if it was terribly relevant. Really, he didn't even know the faction she headed up was called the Hollow Sun Reclaimers… at least, it was. It would be a shame if they ended up calling themselves something later—she was rather fond of that name—but her memories were admittedly still fractured and would be for quite some time. She could only hope she was the same person when she got them back.
Yuki might have assumed he was just being polite by not asking, but earlier, he had done the same thing, trying to hide his lack of knowledge and conceal that he wasn't from this region of the world. Now, why was he still trying to do that? The only logical reason was that he was still trying to hide exactly where he was from.
"Okay, you did pretty well with algebra, so let's do a quick review of that before we start with trigonometry," he said, weaving the foreign word into his speech, "We just need to make sure what issues you do have are due to me using weird symbols and not a gap in local knowledge. Did you have any particular questions before we go on?"
Yuki shook her head, then listened and watched intently as he started his lecture, swapping to writing whenever he ran into something for which he couldn't find the words. She jotted some short form notes of her own, but her mind still lingered on her more personal questions. John not talking too much about home was understandable, it would place a burden on even her psyche, but it was like he was trying to say as little as possible about it, even including subjects he was comfortable talking about.
Why?
His equipment provided yet more hints. He gave no thought to the idea of melee combat, as evident in the type of equipment he made. The spear Yuki suggested would not have been a new idea to anyone vaguely familiar with the concept of standard infantry, nor should he have been so shocked when she picked apart the weaknesses of his "Warding" in short order. Perhaps he was as sheltered as he said… but she didn't believe that for a second. He was clearly familiar with some sort of doctrine where ranged combat is the pinnacle of engagements, with things rarely going to melee.
On the pointer finger of his gauntlet, where the effects emanated from, there was a tiny raised bit of metal toward the end of the second knuckle and a pair toward the base of the first, all painted with little bright white dots towards the tip. At first, Yuki thought it was just decoration, but then she saw him using it to aim by lining up the notches, and the purpose became clear. It was clever… And he saw no need to explain it. It was clearly something he took for granted, something he thought of as "expected"... and likely not of his invention. Of course, it was on the crossbow, too, but such a thing wouldn't provide a decisive enough advantage to make melee combat outmoded. There has to be some sort of weapon she's not familiar with that he's emulating, likely one of extreme range.
Why, then, did he claim to be unfamiliar with magic? It was a foundational tool of any successful military, and if he knew about the little details like how weapons are aimed, he doubtlessly knew some of the more general information. Yuki wagered that even if their own Unbound equivalent didn't engage in melee combat despite the decisive durability and mobility advantage, there would still be plentiful niches for their tactical use. Plus, if they opted to not use any magical forces for some cultural reason, she doubted his nation would have lasted long enough to accumulate power while their neighbours could roll over them.
Ooh, that was an interesting concept! She had never considered how to visually represent the results of equations. There was a simple genius to these… "Cartesian Coordinates," he called them. She quickly scribbled down a few more notes on these curious rules. It's a shame she didn't know his language. It probably looked much more graceful there than in her approximation of the sounds as characters.
Was it possible that they didn't have many magical forces? If his region had a very weak tradition of such, be it due to isolation or never making something equivalent to the Grand Bargain… Well, she'd hide all she could out of fear of invasion. There was a reason they sealed things like her away by stabbing them full of things that seep poison and dropping the largest mountain they could find on top. The thought of the Shape of All Things healing the deep stone around her when she came so close to… A frown slipped onto her face.
How had they evaded anything migratory that flew? There were a great many traders or pillagers who lived on the wing, taking stories with them, and they surely would have found John's homeland at some point during the world's long history. It couldn't be underground, his senses clearly weren't adapted to it. Could he be from an as of yet unknown sealed realm, a whole people sealed away from the world at large as an experiment by some ancient power?
Surely not. That would mean someone brought John here, but who would do that only to leave him abandoned in the woods to survive alone? It'd be an insane investment and risk discovery of whatever their plan was for no reward. Yet, it would explain much, wouldn't it? His reluctance to question was because he was likely terrified of revealing how little he knew of the greater world, giving away the game!
She could not fault his caution in that case; if they had little magic in that world of his, well, even in her diminished state, one like her would likely find it relatively easy to subvert. It only took moments to destroy a body, and ministers were terribly easy to impersonate, after all.
It'd be easy to determine if she was correct; she could feign ignorance on a few subjects and see if he corrected her or went along with her mistake—
She heard the buzz in his pocket, and a moment later, he reacted by stiffening, pulling out that curious alarm tablet of his. She really did have to ask him how it transmitted signals at some point. She could think of a few methods, but there was always a chance he thought up something novel.
One buzz, a pause, then a continuous, steady shake rang out, and John paled. Ah, looks like she would have to ask him later.