The Fox Who Loved A Child

This is Why ' I Don't Like Kids' (he says)

        As he was about to go to sleep, he froze in front of his door, seeing his reflection in a hallway mirror. His cheeks were hollow, thin, and bony, his skin pale, and his eyes cold and calculative. The silent hum of the lighting reveals the wear and tear, the tolls of a life lived in solitude. Was this how everyone saw him? He turned away, his heart heavy with a newfound awareness of the person he had become.

          Fox couldn't shake off the haunting image of Ku's eyes, the warmth and life they held despite the harsh circumstances she faced. The contrast between her vibrant spirit and his pitiful reflection in the mirror stirred a mix of emotions within him. At that moment, a small ember of compassion flickered within him, challenging the icy resolve he had clung to for so long. It was as if the weight of the child's sad eyes and his hateful face had cracked the frost around his heart, allowing a single ember of feeling to seep through the cold facade he had proudly built and worn for years.

        The next morning, he woke, and he felt as if something was amiss. He ignored it, for he was Fox, he needed no one and worked for none. Or so he told himself. Reaching for his white and orange cloak, he paused when his fingers met air, the memories of last night coming back. Fox stood in his dimly lit room, his hand suspended in mid-air, the absence of his cloak a tangible void. Unwanted emotions surged within him, battling against the self-imposed walls he had constructed around his heart. He had spent his life believing that he needed no one and that attachments only bred weakness and vulnerability. And yet in a single moment, this tiny girl, Ku had somehow managed to shatter those beliefs, her presence a constant reminder of the compassion he had suppressed for so long. As he paced around, his thoughts tangled in a web of uncertainty, Fox's resolve wavered. He yearned for the simplicity of his previous existence, the familiarity of solitude. But beneath the layers of cold detachment, his heart whispered a different truth—one that resonated with longing and the undeniable connection he had formed with Ku. He couldn't ignore it any longer. Groaning with irritation, he made his choice, after all, it didn't mean much if he merely checked to see if she was even still alive.

          That night, as he was returning home from his work he saw her. Ku, standing in front of his street, her small figure silhouetted against the dim streetlights. A mix of relief and worry washed over Fox as he quickened his pace to reach her side. She looked up, her eyes brightening at the familiar visage of Fox's mask. 

" I wanted to say thank you." She managed to mutter. 

          Fox looked her up and down, taking in the pitiful state of her bedraggled clothing and skinny limbs. She was so fragile. Then it registered in his mind that she was holding out his cloak, returning it to him.

 " Will you not be cold?" he asked. 

          Ku shrugged, and ran off, her tiny form quickly disappearing into the dark. Fox stood there, his hand outstretched, still grasping his cloak, now returned to him. Unwanted emotions surged within him once again. Part of him felt a sense of relief, a return to the solitude and detachment he had grown accustomed to. But another part, a part that was growing stronger with each passing moment, yearned for the connection he had found with Ku, for the warmth and humanity she had brought into his life. In that moment, a realization struck Fox with undeniable clarity. He had allowed himself to care, to open his heart to another being. And while it frightened him, he couldn't deny the void that appeared when Ku ran off into the night. But he was Fox, he needed no one, and worked for none. Or so he would try to tell himself.