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“Can… you please come over? It’s about him… he… I think I need some help, after all…”
The voice from the phone call still echoes in your mind. It had sounded bizarre… exhausted and melancholic – far, far too calm for the yelling and banging going on in the background. If you had not known the girl, you might have mistaken it for a prank call.
Your eyes shift from the metal doors of the elevator to the LED-screen counting the floor level. The numbers change too slowly for your liking, making you clench your fists. As the counter hits “12”, the doors finally open. Your dress shoes clack on the tile floor as fast strides take you down the corridors, the strip lights reflecting from the dark-blue pin attached to the collar of your jacket. It is in the shape of a stylized “C” – Cover’s company logo.
Your pace slows when you reach the hallway of interest to you. Sharp eyes scan the nameplates mounted along the doors, until they fall on a particular one – “Shirakami”, it reads. Just as you hold your ear close to the wood to listen in, loud shouting and the sound of shattering glass reaches through it. You immediately take a step back and prepare a kick.
…
What had led to this point in your life where you went out late at night, kicking down doors at the call of distraught women? To make a long story short, a life full of bad decisions. Starting on the street, you had tried to impress the wrong people. You had dedicated years of your life – done many questionable things – all for a joke of what called itself a family. The prize for your dedication was to be cut loose a few years down the road. A fuck-up of a superior you were made responsible for. Left with no money, no friends, a phalanx less on one of your fingers and a back full of tattoos, you ended up where you had started – out on the street.
It was ugly, but at least you knew how to survive this time.
Then, one day, a man reached out to you, offering a legitimate job after you had shared your sob story over drinks with him in a bar. He said he was the CEO of a company and that he needed a “security consultant” for his enterprise. You were intrigued, the job sounding like it could actually profit from the questionable skillset you had acquired over the years. This enthusiasm was severely dampened when you first stepped into the office a few days later, however.
The company you were supposed to provide security for turned out to be an all-female group of streamers. You knew for a fact that a man such as yourself should stay as far away from idol-like girls as possible, but the Boss insisted, even raising the salary he offered when you voiced your doubts. It was very good money. You accepted and came to work for Hololive. Technically, you worked for Cover Corp, but that was publicity stuff. Having a “security consultant” for an idol-group would imply that there were security concerns, and that was just bad for business.
About the nature of the job… well, you had a contract and paid taxes – that was about as far as the legitimacy went. To be frank, you were a problem solver. Hired muscle. How you went about finding solutions, nobody asked – the only premise was discretion. A quiet job, in both senses of the word. For the most part, security concerns involved overly invested fans – stalkers, you could call them. Most of them were harmless enough, easily swayed by an explicit call to their private phone. Some required a more… figurative approach. A can of gasoline with a very personal letter, placed in front of their doorstep, usually did the trick. For men who still had ties home, a carefully cropped selfie with their mother was just as effective. Such nice ladies, too! You even got the odd family recipe or two out of these “arranged chance meetings”, and the mothers got to have a nice conversation for once, so the only one losing was the stalker, really.
The bigger problem were the girls you were actually supposed to provide security for. Social anxiety, trust issues, eating disorders, alcohol abuse, wrecked families… the list went on. The Boss either had a savior complex, or an absolute fetish for tragic backstories. Surprisingly, what should have been nothing short of a shit-show of a workplace, worked out just… fine. The girls all happily used their second chance in life, disregarding a minor setback or breakdown here and there.
You soon realized that an often-overlooked guiding hand in all this success was a certain girl with traits of an arctic fox. Fubuki Shirakami was her name. Talented, charismatic, popular… patient with the new members, a solid rock for the older ones. The first one to inquire about another girl’s health and the first one to show solidarity in light of controversies – whether that meant to be the only caller in a call-in-stream, or to drop an entire country as a fanbase. She held the odd bunch together at its core. She also had been the first one to talk to you and campaign for you with the others – not an easy feat, considering how weary they had been in the beginning. You owed Fubuki and you often joked that she had you by the balls, just as she did the Boss, something she always waved off with a giggle. Which leads us to today…
…
With a bang and a crack the door flies open, the wooden frame splintering somewhere around the lock. You enter, not caring to take off your shoes at the entrance. The noise leads you down a short hallway and then left, where you spot the source of the issue at the other end of the apartment. It is an average looking man, shoddily clothed and highly intoxicated, kicking against a door. He is also fumbling with something in his hands. Your brow furrows and you walk towards him.
“You’re DONE you fucking bitch! I’ll break your neck, too and torch this whole fucking- wha… wait, WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!”
“Uh…” you come to stop next to the kitchen counter, about ten steps away from the man. “I’m the facility manager,” you introduce yourself with the first thing that comes to mind. “On demand of the owner, you are to leave this premise… indefinitely.”
The man throws something in your direction, missing without even forcing you to dodge. A sharp smell pierces your nose. Gasoline? No, more likely cleaning alcohol of some sort. He now lunges at you, enraged by his own incompetence. “I’ll tear you apart you faggot, who are you to think you can kick me out of my own place?!”
Your eyes turn to the kitchen counter, contemplating. You spot a knife, a wooden cutting board and a tomato. Oh, how much easier this decision would have been only a couple of years ago. Reaching for the cutting board, you swing it, backhanding the assailant in the face. An ugly “thud” sends the man flying to the side. He crashes to the ground and the apartment falls almost silent, the only sound audible being the clicking of a few teeth skipping over the parquet.
You examine the improvised weapon before setting it back down on the counter. Huh, solid oak – maybe you should think about replacing the plastic garbage in your apartment, after all. Not bothering with the now unconscious man, you walk over to the door that he had tried to force open, stepping over broken glass and smashed furniture. There are various scratches, dents and cracks visible on the wood. He had also tried to stem it open with something. Thank god his intoxication has kept him from succeeding in any of his attempts. “Fubuki-san?” you cautiously knock on the door.
It takes a moment before you hear a faint “yes?” from the other side.
“Are you alright? Can you hold out for a moment longer while I take care of things out here?”
“I-I think so.”
You move quickly and go through all counters you find, until you hold a roll of duct tape in your hands. Grabbing the bleeding man by his collar, he lets out a pathetic groan and you drag him over to the bathroom. You throw him into the bathtub, where you tie up his hands and legs with the tape. A brief check of the mouth to see how much he is bleeding there, before you tape that shut, too. An expensive trip to the dentist’s office seems inevitable, but it is… unlikely he will choke on his blood. You leave the bathroom and block the door with a chair from the dining table, before knocking once more at the banged-up door. “It’s safe now, Fubuki-san.”
It takes a moment before a lock is turned and the door opens. A small-framed woman with big turquoise eyes appears in front of you and you immediately scan her head to toe, looking for any apparent injuries. She still wears the same outfit she had at work today. Her white hair is a mess, as is the fur of her black-tipped tail, tucked in between her legs. Her fox ears are drooping and her face is tear streaked. Oddly enough, she is clutching a big shoe carton in her arms. Besides that, she seems fine, at least on the outside.
“Thank you for coming… I didn’t know what to do.” She tries to smile, but it is only a shadow of what you are used from her.
“Of course,” you answer in your best pitch of a comforting tone, your eyes inevitably wandering back down to the out-of-place carton. You start to think. The size… a smashed scratching post in the living room… “breaking your neck, too”… right, didn’t she have… oh. Oh no.
“Fubuki-san…” you begin, but your words fail you. Tears start to roll down the already stained face of the fox girl.
“When I came home today… he was drunk again and he… he had… he said they were a pest, b-but… they were just kittens! They weren’t a bother at all and I took care of everything, but he… just—” Fubuki chokes up, her breathing getting heavier. “I… said I was going to bury them in the park. That I wanted him gone by the time I came back… and that I never wanted to see him again. Then he…”
You reach out to touch her shoulder in comfort, but quickly pull back when she winces. Unsure if it had been from pain or her emotional state, your eyes narrow slightly. “Why don’t you go and collect a few days worth of things, so we can get you out of here for a while, yeah?” Fubuki nods weakly.
“I take it the bathroom is… occupied right now?”
“I fear so,” you confirm her suspicion. “We can stop by a Kombini for anything you might need, though.” The fox girl shakes her head.
“It’s fine I… I think I have a travel bag around here somewhere…”
You give Fubuki some space to take care of her things and pull out your phone. Going through the address list, you select the contact simply saved as “Boss”. He picks up sooner than he probably should this time of day.
“Hey. Listen, sorry to disturb you, but I’m at Fubuki-san’s place right now. There’s been an incident with her, uhm… roommate- yeah, the unforgivable kind… no… no, she’s fine, far as I can tell. She’s packing her things right now. Yeah, I’ll take her somewhere safe, don’t know where exactly… uhh, about him… we had a talk – he didn’t feel so good afterwards. I helped him to the bathroom… do you want me to call the police?... Are you sure? … Alright… no, I don’t think he’s going anywhere soon… okay… yeah, I’ll keep you updated… his what?... Alright… mh, talk to you later.”
You hang up the phone and check around the living room. “Fubuki-san? Does he have any personal devices? PCs, cellphones, the like?” The fox-eared girl comes out of the bedroom, a sports bag slung over her shoulder, the shoe carton still clutched in her arms.
“Just his personal phone and the notebook on the table there…”
You walk over to the coffee table Fubuki was pointing to and flip open the notebook. The screen flickers to life. Perfect, no password protection. You grab the cellphone lying next to it and grimace as the “Face-ID required” message pops up. His face… is not an option right now.
“Are we just gonna take them…?” Fubuki asks, a slight hint of worry in her voice.
“Oh, no. That would be theft now, wouldn’t it?” You murmur as you turn back to the notebook, clicking through the settings, locking it down with a hard enough password. Slamming the PC shut, your eyes start wandering until they fall onto the microwave in the kitchen. Fubuki looks at you in disbelief as you walk over and toss her roommate’s cellphone into the electric device, setting the timer to a minute. Pops and cracks go off and the smell of burnt plastic soon develops. In the meantime, you fill the sink with a bit of water. As soon as the timer dings, you use a towel to grab the now steaming piece of junk and throw it into the sink, producing a splash and a sizzle. Just to be safe.
“We’ll leave the notebook and your PC for the… uhm… lawyers to collect later. But you don’t have to worry about any of that.” You gently pry the sports bag from the fox girl. “Are you ready to leave, Fubuki-san?” The woman nods hesitantly and you guide her out of the apartment.
On the elevator ride down, Fubuki breaks the silence, guided by the urge to apologize. “I’m sorry for making you come all the way out here this late at night. I should have long since… ahh…” her whole body tenses and her tail starts to swing in agitation. “If not for my own stupid-”
“Please don’t finish that thought, Fubuki-san,” you gently interrupt her. “There is only one person at fault for what happened today, and it’s not you.” Fubuki lets out a non-committal sigh, eyes downcast. “And please don’t ever hesitate to call me if you’re at a loss. No matter if it’s about you, or any of the other girls – I will come. Keep that in mind, okay?” Fubuki only hums weakly, still unconvinced. You lightly grab her by the arm and turn her towards you. “Okay?” you repeat, looking her straight in the eyes.
A defeated smile sneaks onto the face of the fox girl. “Okay.” She relents and you smile back, satisfied. “Can we… go by the park, before we…” she trails off, clutching her shoe carton a bit tighter.
“Of course, Fubuki-san.”
…
You find a quiet spot between two trees, surrounded by low bushes, a bit off the beaten path. A folding shovel you had in the trunk of your car (by pure chance, you assure) is used to dig a hole deep enough for the shoe carton to fit in. Neither of you speak during the improvised procession. Fubuki places a few stones on the grave to mark it, and then remains kneeing, silent tears streaming down her cheeks once more.
You let her mourn for a minute, before gently touching her shoulder. The headlights of a car some ways away had startled you, breaking the illusion that you were alone out here – this was still a metropolis and people were bound to pass by eventually, no matter the time of day. The woman winces, but gets the message and dusts herself off. “Do you want me to bring you to a hotel for now?” you gently ask her on the way back to your car.
Fubuki hesitates for a second too long before unconvincingly answering “y-yes.” You mentally berate yourself. Yeah, she surely would love to be alone in a foreign place after all that had happened today. What a stupid proposal to make.
“I’m sure one of the girls would take you in for the night, if you’d prefer that. I can check who lives-“
“Oh, nonono-no!” Fubuki energetically interrupts and grabs your arm as you reach for your cellphone, stopping both of you in your tracks. “That’s absolutely not necessary – I wouldn’t want to worry any of them. Mhm! A hotel is fine, really. Any hotel!” Your brow furrows, but you stop your reaching. The fox girl hastily lets go of you, now realizing her emotional response.
So that is the catch. Fubuki usually is the one being relied on – relying on others, on the other hand…. It makes sense and only highlights how desperate she must have been to call you tonight. With the dots connecting in your head, the notion of dumping Fubuki at some hotel becomes even more appalling and you make your decision. It is against company policy, technically, but you are here to solve problems, not follow protocol. You aren’t on the clock either, so you are not getting paid anyways.
The biggest hurdle to jump would be convincing Fubuki without having her shoot you down the same as she did your last idea. “Hmm… come to think of it… checking you into a hotel this time of night might raise more suspicion than it should…” you mime contemplation. “It is understandable that you don’t want to get any of the other girls involved, but I would feel much more comfortable if you’d spent tonight at least at my place.” You see Fubuki stiffen from the corner of your eye.
“A-a hotel is fine…” she repeats, voice now on the verge of breaking. She tries to walk past you towards the car, but you block her path, trying to catch her eyes again.
“Fubuki-san, you are a beautiful woman, but what happened today… one can tell from looking at you. Please trust me just one more time.” The mouth of the arctic fox moves to object, but her gaze falls before the words come out. You see a stray tear slide down her cheek.
“…okay.”
Your apartment is nothing special. Two sparsely furnished rooms with tatami mats – one for dining and living, the other serving as a bedroom – a small kitchen and a bathroom. Fubuki praises your taste nonetheless, disregarding the vast downgrade this is to her (now partly demolished) apartment. She excuses herself to take a shower and you use the time to contact the Boss and bring him up-to-date.
He does not argue against your decision to bring Fubuki to your place, instead thanking you for your quick response tonight, even offering bonus pay. You vehemently decline. He sends you the contact info of a “Lawyer-san” to conclude all steps necessary to clean up this mess. Texting with him, you get the feeling that he is as much a “lawyer” as you are a “security consultant”. The goal is to make Fubuki’s roommate disappear – without harming him further or putting him in cement shoes, mind you. Lawyer-san’s approach is… unconventional, but you think it will be more effective than a tedious mud-fling of a court battle and lukewarm restraining orders.
When the course of action is set and you put the phone away, Fubuki is still in the shower. You set out to prepare the futons – the spare one in the bedroom and your own in the living room – and brew some tea. Five minutes later, the fox girl finally emerges from the bathroom. She looks at least a little better, her long white hair and tail still damp from the shower and ears still drooping. She had changed into a loose white T-shirt and jogging pants. You greet her by handing her a cup of tea, which she takes with a weak hint of a smile.
“Fubuki-san…” you hesitate as you walk over to your first-aid cabinet. “Would you mind showing me your back for a moment?” The woman’s turquoise eyes widen and you know you hit this shot dead center. She recoils a little as you move towards her, similar to how a startled animal would, and you try to put her at ease with an understanding smile. After contemplating for a moment, Fubuki gives in, sitting down at the tatami table. Turning her back towards you, she hesitantly hikes up her shirt.
It is as you had expected. Welts and bruises cover the bare flesh from the small of her back all the way up to her shoulders. Fubuki’s roommate had been smart enough to avoid the openly visible parts – the “money makers” – and focus his anger on the easily concealable ones. You had seen this behavior plenty of times in your life, in far worse manifestations even, but you still feel disgust well up inside you. Judging by the coloring of some bruises, the abuse had not only started today either. The smack to the face had been too kind of you, you cannot help but think.
It takes not even two seconds to make a photo on your cellphone, unnoticed by Fubuki, which you send to “Lawyer-san” for further process. Right after, you start your treatment. The skin had only broken in a few spots, so there was not much to do besides applying some ointment.
“Are you not going to berate me?” Fubuki asks, clearly uncomfortable with your lack of comment. You do not respond immediately, carefully contemplating your words.
“You… loved him, didn’t you?” The question remains unanswered, answering it plenty. You go on: “I… have taken abuse for far less noble causes and not spoken up. So… it is not my place to judge. The only thing I can do is” —Fubuki twitches slightly from the contact as you tend to another wound— “to make sure your and his paths never cross, ever again.”
The fox tenses a little. “Is that what Yagoo told you to do?” You let out a thoughtful hum. The Boss had not really told you much. It had been more of a mutual course of action you both had agreed on.
“The company can only make sure to protect you from him. To dictate you what to do in your private life, on the other hand… would be overreaching. Even with the contract you have. That’s why I, as your… friend, will make sure you won’t be able to find him – on my own personal accord. I hope you can forgive me for that.” The fox girl sighs, as if expecting an answer along those lines.
“Not even if I begged you?” You cannot help yourself from chuckling weakly.
“Especially not if you begged. People don’t change, Fubuki-san. They never do… don’t startle, I will check for broken ribs real quick.”
You are considerate enough to warm your hands on your cup of tea before you set out to sweep Fubuki’s ribcage with gentle presses. The woman lets out a shuddering breath, making the check-up feel more intimate than it should. What a crime it was to abuse a gentle thing such as her. You take only as much time as necessary, immediately prying Fubuki’s shirt down as you are done. Thankfully, none of the ribs seem to be broken. The woman turns in her seat, now facing you.
“You say that, but it seems as if you changed plenty, considering your past,” Fubuki finally says. You are happy to realize that the slight smugness she sports when usually interacting with you slowly creeps back into her voice.
“Ah, look at you, you nosy fox. Did you steal Yagoo’s files again?” she only shrugs, her ears perking for a second. You chuckle and go to put away the first-aid utensils.
“I didn’t change, either. Only found a better way to channel my, uhh… vices…” you finally answer. When you turn back towards Fubuki, you note that she is eyeing you attentively, her cup of tea resting against her lips. “It’s pretty late Fubuki-san. We should probably turn in for tonight. I prepared a futon for you in the bedroom.” Fubuki lowers the teacup to her lap, her eyes following it. She nods twice, weakly.
“Would you mind…” she hesitates, fighting to get the words out “… could you sleep in the bedroom, as well? Not- it doesn’t have to be side-by-side! Just… in the same room. Mhm. Please?” You nod in understanding, touched that she trusts you this much. Wordlessly, you set out to relocate your futon to the bedroom, placing it down a respectful distance from Fubuki’s. You wait for her to settle in, before wishing her goodnight and switching off the lights.
For the better part of the night, you can hear the soft weeping of the fox girl, and you wish that you could do something to make the things that had happened undone.
…
The next morning, you cook up a small breakfast for Fubuki, of which she barely touches anything. You both get ready for the day and set out for the inevitable journey to Hololive HQ. Walking through the halls towards the Boss’ office, you feel the worried eyes of the other girls staring after you. Fubuki not being on time was enough to cause general concern, and you accompanying her probably did not help in the matter. They are respectful enough to keep their distance, for now, though you are certain that the rumor mill is already grinding in the background.
For Fubuki, who rarely shows weakness amongst her peers, this must be like a walk to the gallows. You cannot help but admire her for the straight face she puts on, even happily greeting the people who cross your path in the hallway.
Yagoo is extremely calm and empathic during your meeting. You wonder if you could learn something from his way of interacting with Fubuki, but quickly dismiss the thought – it would seem disingenuous coming from you, you feel. He thanks you again and assures Fubuki that “Lawyer-san” has everything he needs to take care of things from here. He keeps what exactly would happen vague, but you assume that Fubuki has been around for long enough to guess the direction this is going. The Boss also assures that she needs to only say the word, should she wish to involve proper authorities at any point in time, and that she could take off as long as necessary to recover.
By late noon, Fubuki’s move into a new apartment is concluded, credit due to Cover Corp. A day later, the fox girl is back at work. You also return to your daily duties, but cannot fully shake your worry. The only thing you can do is to check in on her streams, and it is almost frightening how normal Fubuki comes off there. After about a week, you begin to wonder if this just is the arctic fox’ way of coping – people approach trauma differently, after all. However, just as you start to feel hopeful, you get called into the Boss’ office.
Fubuki has had a nervous breakdown during a business meeting with an outside company.
You almost lose your temper, the anxiety that had built up over the last days making you anything but reasonable. Shit, you knew from the start that getting this close to the girls had been a bad idea. But there is no turning back now, is there? You care. You care for all of them, especially Fubuki. Sobering as this insight is, it is the only thing that stops you from outright flipping the table right now.
Yagoo is calm as ever, a thing that you had admired a week ago, but now infuriates you beyond reason. You grate your teeth and spit out something about Fubuki better getting “the best counseling this fucking company can afford”. Yagoo assures that he had offered just that, yet… Fubuki had declined.
“Wha-… what?! She just wants to do nothing about it? And you are willing to tolerate that?!” The Boss explains that this is the reason why he is speaking to you right now. He offers you a seat, which you decline, demanding an explanation instead. He sighs.
It turns out the thing triggering the episodes in Fubuki is as simple as it is concerning:
Men.
Especially staying in a room with them alone, or for extended periods of time. The reason for that is not hard to guess, even without you being a certified shrink. Yagoo explains further how Fubuki had insisted on trying to treat this condition herself by engaging in something she calls “exposure therapy”. She is sure you are the best candidate to fill the role of the “male exposure”, since she has already spent a night at your place without breaking down. You argue that, from a medical point of view, this reasoning is bullshit, probably, and the Boss agrees. He emphasizes that it is Fubuki’s demand, though.
You rub your face with both hands, exhausted. Well, if you do what she asks and it fails… she at least has no excuse to not get proper help… right? You bite your lip as you catch yourself with those thoughts, realizing she absolutely HAS both you and the Boss by the balls. In the end, you agree to Fubuki’s conditions. Of course you do.
…
You are currently sitting in the lounge room that is going to be reserved for your pseudo-scientific therapy sessions twice a week from this day forward. The room was one of those hip “places of refuge” every modern start-up company prides itself in having. Couches, beanbag chairs, various forms of entertainment and an all-in-all garbage taste in colors and shapes.
You tense in your seat when Fubuki finally enters and closes the matted glass door behind herself. She remains there for a moment, with her back facing you, her shoulders rising and falling noticeably as she takes deep breaths.
“Thank you for agreeing on this…” she says and turns around, sending her most dazzling streamer-smile your way. It would have fooled you, too, if it were not for her trembling legs and the crack in her voice. Fubuki’s expression quickly falls, the smile turning bitter. You wonder if it is from your lack of response, or from the realization that you do not have the effect the woman had hoped you would have.
“Ahh… look at me…“ she raises a hand in front of her, palm turned downwards. It is shaking like a leaf. “Can’t even stay in a room with a man without shivering like a beaten dog. Not even with you – the one who got me out of my mess in the first place. Kind of pathetic, right? Ah-ahaha…”
“Fubuki-san…” you begin, but the fox girl cuts you off by looking up, although barely managing to hold eye contact.
“I think just ‘Fubuki’ is fine from now on, considering all that has happened.”
You nod in acknowledgement, before starting again: “Fubuki… I’m honored by your trust, but I don’t think I am the best person to help you with this. You should get professional…” you trail off as you see Fubuki’s expression go sour, her eyes turning back to the trembling hand.
“Do this… do that…” she murmurs. “’You should give me another chance’… ‘I don’t think this is my fault,’” her hand clenches and she looks back up. “He used to say that all the time. I know you mean only the best… and your concern is very sweet… but just for once, I want to do what I think is right. I know I can do this. On my own, I’m sure of it. I just need… a bit of your help.”
That… shines a new light on the perspective. Though Fubuki’s reasoning is far from flawless, and you still think she would be better off in the hands of a professional, you can at least sympathize with her a little more. “Very well,” you lightly bow your head. “Is there a specific way you pictured these… meetings?”
“W-well…” Fubuki stutters, taken aback by the fact there was not more convincing to be done. “I was hoping you’d sit there and we would just… talk, for now? To be honest, every moment I’m not hyperventilating on the floor is a win in my book… ah-haha…”
You are not impressed by the idea, but that is what the words “exposure therapy” implied, you guess. “Okay…” you hesitate. “Then… I’ll just stay on this beautiful… vomit-colored couch… for the time being.” Fubuki chuckles at your stiff try on humor. You are satisfied, having lightened the mood at least a little. The woman walks over to the windows and sits down on one of the sills, a considerable distance from you. She still looks far from comfortable, her hands kneading in her lap.
“Wahh… what a mess…” she sighs after a while. “Of course this whole debacle had to happen in the middle of a business meeting, of all places. I can kiss that deal goodbye, for sure…” You cock your head, sensing a vague opportunity for conversation.
“I’m sure you’ll pull in the next one, no problem.” Fubuki shakes her head, her white hair waving about.
“Ah, but this one was the real deal! I’ve been looking forward to a new line of Fubuki-figurines for ages!” The usual enthusiasm is slowly creeping back into the anxious woman, yet her legs still tremble enough for you to notice it from your spot.
“Figurines?” you smile encouragingly. “I definitely would have bought one of those.” Fubuki giggles. It was small, but genuine.
“Mhm, I bet you would have. I’ve seen the little collection in your bedroom. Fubuki merchandise is a suspiciously predominant theme there!” You cough lightly.
“I try to support all you girls equally, but it just happens that your stuff is the most readily available…”
“Ahh, I see, I see.”
…
Your meetings go their way from there for the following months. You always sit on your spot on the vomit-green couch, whereas Fubuki choses her spot freely – sometimes closer, sometimes further away. The trend is definitely pointing towards “closer” lately, so although very… slow, there seems to be progress, at least.
The conversations usually start friendly and light, but delve deeper into the fox girl’s feelings towards the end of each meeting – draining the energy out of her quite visibly. You always have to be the one to end the session. Fubuki would press on if left unchecked, with no regard for her own constitution.
Outside of the meetings, you make sure to talk at least for a few moments, whenever your paths cross in the hallway. A few weeks into the therapy, Fubuki had asked you if you could stop by the office she shared with the “Gamers” generation during breaks, too. She wanted to further increase the exposure in a less isolated environment. Therefore, you were long since spending your lunch together, as well.
You are not the best at reading between the lines, but over time, you get the feeling that she either feels terribly lonely in her new apartment or dearly misses her cats – most likely a combination of the two. She never speaks about it directly, only small remarks point towards this theory. Torn if it would help her or rather reopen old wounds, you debate the option of gifting her a companion, a new kitten, for her upcoming birthday.
It is about the same time that some of the braver girls approach you in your office. None of them had missed that something… significant had happened in Fubuki’s life. They ask you if the rumors are true and your heart sinks when they are not far off, at all. Not a surprise, as you think about it. Her boyfriend had been common knowledge, as was her sudden move… she did not talk or show pictures of her kittens on stream anymore… the math is not that hard. At least her nervous episodes are more or less unknown, so you do damage control by making sure it stays that way, as well as setting the more outlandish claims straight.
The girls are genuinely troubled by your confirmation, and immediately start to brainstorm ways to support Fubuki in your office. An idea comes to your mind and you bring in the thought you had about the fox girl’s birthday present. You tweak the proposal so that it would not only be a gift from you, but from everyone – to show that she could rely on all of her coworkers, should she need it. The girls are delighted and take it upon themselves to organize everything. They have the connections; some of them cat girls and most of them girls with cats themselves. You off-handedly mention that a tomcat would probably be the most appreciated, withholding the “exposure therapy” relation this suggestion had.
A few days before the birthday, a hand-written letter reaches you, which is to serve as the birthday card that would go with the present itself. Girlish and sickeningly sweet it may be, but you cannot help but smile (and admittedly choke up a little), as you realize that every girl from the JP branch, as well as Yagoo, had already signed, making the letter appear twice as long as it actually was.
...
The birthday itself, too, is something you would not forget for a long time. All the girls that were in office that day came in early, gathering in front of Fubuki’s desk with knowing smiles. As the arctic fox arrives, nobody says a word at first.
“Wahh! Hey guys! Why are you all super early today? You shouldn’t have both- bothered…” The initially happy-go-lucky exclamation trails off into nothingness when the bunch of streamers wordlessly shuffle aside, revealing Fubuki’s desk and the cat carrier that sits on top of it, a light blue ribbon and the letter from a few days ago attached to it.
“G-guys? What’s- what’s going on? Ah…” the woman asks, nervously walking through the corridor her colleagues had created, not getting an answer from anyone. Finally at her desk, Fubuki looks around, finding only encouraging and expecting faces staring back at her. She hesitantly kneels down to the carrier and gasps when she peeks through the grates. “H-hey, little guy…” she whispers and taps a finger lightly against the bars, woefully smiling from whatever she sees inside.
Just as she turns back towards the crowd, everyone starts to hum a birthday song – softly, as to not frighten the kitten in the office. By the time the song ends, Fubuki is crying so much she hiccups. She also smiles brighter than she had for a long time now.
“Guys… thank you. Thank you all so much! I… don’t know what to say…” The fox girl is bawling at this point and the whole bunch immediately moves in for a gigantic group hug, softly coo-ing and aww-ing at their coworker. You are thoroughly satisfied watching from your spot on the sidelines, continuing to monitor the situation for a while longer, maybe even taking a picture or two for your personal collection.
When Fubuki is in the midst of thanking every girl personally, currently cuddled and patted on the head by Mio, your eyes finally meet. You smile at her and realization seems to hit the fox, her eyes widening ever-so-slightly. Nodding once, you turn your back and move towards your office, filled by a warm, giddy feeling unbecoming of a man with your past and stature.
…
You do not see Fubuki until your regular therapy session the next day. She is sitting right across from you this time, on a slightly less vomit-green colored couch – closer than she ever has before. It does not seem to trouble her all that much, as she looks… calm – dare you say… normal.
“How… are you today?” you ask and she smiles brightly.
“Good, thank you!” Her suspiciously happy tone sends a shiver down your spine.
“Uhm, that’s… good,” is the only thing you can mumble as you lean forward, nervously rubbing your hands together. “… Good.” There is something in the way Fubuki grins at you that makes you feel as if you are the patient this time around. “So… where were we last time…?” You try to change the topic. How pathetic it is for the designated company thug to be intimidated by Hololive’s resident happy fox – the irony in this is not lost to you.
“Ahh! Last time…? Hmmm… I think you were just about to tell me something…” Fubuki taps a finger against her chin in thought. “Hmm, something about… how you were about to meddle in my birthday party with your big, big man-hands? Sadly, I seem to have interrupted you before you could explain yourself. I am very sorry about that.” You wince a little, as if slapped on the fingers.
“In my defense, I might have thrown in the odd idea or two, but the other girls did most of the work – honestly!” Fubuki’s smile softens.
“Ooooh…I see, I see…” She looks towards the door and starts to twiddle with her thumbs. “I guess… in that case… there’s no other way but to thank you, too. Mhm.” Before you can even react, Fubuki is already in motion, switching seats from her couch to yours. You almost scurry away, so surprised are you by her action – but the fox girl is not done yet. “I’m ready,” she whispers, as if reassuring herself. She bites her lip, one of her sharp canines sticking out. “I’m… ready.” Whatever question you want to ask is stuck in your throat, when you realize that Fubuki slowly, but assertively, hones in…
… and wraps her arms around your neck in a timid hug.
Right, everyone got a hug yesterday, so why should you be left out? The answer to that is obvious, so you naturally remain frozen in your seat. You feel that the slightest twitch of your body could scare the fox girl away. Fubuki’s hug is cautious and stiff, but she holds herself together fairly well – until short trembles start to shake her body in irregular intervals.
“This… is usually the point where you hug the girl back, you know?” Fubuki murmurs from past your shoulder, her voice not fitting her body language at all. Since you are quite sure this is the first time she has voluntarily touched a male ever since her breakdown, you decide to be very cautious in your actions. Sadly, this results in you patting Fubuki on the back in the most awkward way possible.
“Say…” Fubuki’s tone is downright teasing now, making you cringe. “Could it be that you have never hugged a girl in your life? Your mother does not count, by the way.” Well, at least your ineptitude has helped in calming her down enough than no further trembles shake her.
“Wha-... of course I have…! Y-you! Fine, don’t say that I haven’t warned you!” you threaten, embarrassed, before finally wrapping your arms around Fubuki’s back, fully returning the embrace.
“W-woah…” the woman gasps lightly, and you worry for a moment that you went too far. Fubuki tightens her hold on you ever so slightly, banishing that thought immediately. Encouraged by her positive feedback, you begin to gently rub her back in slow circles.
The notion of time is lost to you as you sit there, wrapped up with the arctic fox. A pang of guilt runs through you as you wonder if a “therapist” should indulge in his patient like this.
“I can’t recall…” Fubuki’s voice is barely above a whisper and not very coherent. “This feeling… this… I… is this how…?” she trails off and quiet sniffles start to reach your ear. Good lord, just how much had her ex starved this woman for attention? You hold her closer, whispering quiet words of soothing to her.
“Thank you…” Fubuki murmurs after quite some time, nuzzling into you the slightest bit. Her voice is breathy from the tears she has shed, sending an inappropriate tingle down your back. “Thank you… for everything. I can’t… thank you enough.” Your eyes close, the words sounding sweet like honey. You catch yourself burying your nose in the white tresses of her hair, stealing a small whiff.
“Of course…” you reaffirm her gently. “Anything for you girls…”
Oh… fuck.
You realize that you just stepped on a landmine, even before Fubuki stiffens in your arms. “Y-you girls, huh…?” she repeats, her hold on you tightening again. She is much more clutching than hugging you at this point. “Ah-… haha… yeah! I mean, I’m glad that we have someone like you… looking out for us. Mhm…” Her words sound hollow, uncertain. You are unsure if she is talking to you or herself. Good job on you for making this awkward – this is what you deserve for letting your guard down.
…
You dread next week’s session at first, but thankfully, things seem unaffected by your unfortunate slip-up. Or so you think. Fubuki assures you that she is doing much better physically as well as mentally by now. She suggests shortening the sessions in length, but doing them thrice a week, now that she is ready to proceed to what she calls the “last phase”. There was a slight catch, though. This last phase made itself out to be just… hugging?
As eyebrow-raising as the idea was in the beginning, you had not dared to disagree – too tempting was the thought of literally earning money by what was essentially cuddling with a gorgeous fox girl. You had also overestimated your formerly indestructible self-restraint, and by the time you finally realized that you had grown very, very fond of Fubuki and this way of interacting with her, your will was already in shambles. You think you had read about this once… is this what copious amounts of Oxytocin did to a person? It had gotten to the point where you could cut off your wandering thoughts only by physically biting your tongue.
What on earth is going on with you? And why have you been getting so comfortable on this hideous vomit-green sofa for the last couple of weeks? Do you have no shame, just sitting there… wrapped up in Fubuki’s scent…
It is curious how her aroma, although always the same at its core, changes depending on the day of the week. Maybe she is deliberately switching between perfumes? Well, it does not really matter, as you like all of the variations equally. Mhh, you say that, but if you are completely honest with yourself… there is just something particular that “Wednesday”does to you-
Fuck, there you go again. Your thoughts really are all over the place as of late. Where were you? Right, something about “too comfortable”.
“Hey, Fubuki…” you gently nudge the arctic fox in your arms. She hums and nuzzles into you, signaling that she’s listening. God, this is getting dangerous. You had been wondering for a while now what someone would think if they were to walk in on you here, just… hugging for an hour non-stop, barely talking.
“I was thinking. Wouldn’t it be time to, you know, expand your exposure to other… people? Now that you’ve grown comfortable with me?” The words sting a lot more than you had imagined, leaving a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.
“No.” Fubuki’s response is fast and flat. A little too fast, she realizes herself, as she chuckles nervously trying to cover it up. “Ahaha, I-I mean… I don’t really have to touch other men, right? If I can touch you, staying in a room with others should be just fine. So… no need to do this with anyone else. Mhm!” Her explanation does a fairly moderate job in convincing either of you. Fubuki sighs after a moment in defeat and loosens her hold on you, turquoise eyes meeting yours.
“You are right, though. There’s not much left to do, I think…” Maybe you are just projecting, but you feel like you see a hint of sadness dart over Fubuki’s face, as she busies herself with straightening your tie. It had shifted out of place during the… session. “I wouldn’t want to keep you wrapped up in this longer than necessary. You have already done more than I could’ve ever asked of you. So thanks again for saving me… twice.”
Oh, no. Nonono! This is not what you had intended! Well, it was… but not right now! You were just gently inquiring about the future by asking this question – you never wanted the therapy to end right… now! You wanted just a little more… more of…
Your jaw clenches as you realize how incredibly selfish you sound to yourself. It should be a happy moment that Fubuki no longer needed…this. You should be proud of her and not wallow in self-pity. Therefore, with a last gentle hug and an exchange of woeful smiles, the “exposure therapy” of Fubuki Shirakami ends.
…
*Can you please come over? I think I need help again…*
It is a text this time, reaching you on a late Sunday evening, only a week after your agreement with Fubuki has ended. Dozens of thoughts race through your mind as you sprint up the staircase in the apartment complex, taking two steps at a time until you reach the right level. Your dress shoes clack on the tile floor as you walk down the corridor, the strip lights reflecting from the dark-blue pin on your jacket…
Did she have a relapse? So soon? Did that piece of shit of an ex find her? You would give “Lawyer-san” a talking-to he would never forget, if that were the case. Your eyes scan the nameplates mounted on the walls, until they fall on a particular one – no name was written on it, only the number “21”. You hold your ear near the wood to listen in, but no sound reaches through. Raising your hand, you knock three times.
It takes a moment before a lock is turned and the door opens. The small frame of Fubuki appears in front of you and you immediately check her head to toe, looking for any apparent injuries. She wears nothing but a white top and light blue shorts. Her hair and black-tipped tail are neatly kempt, the latter gently swaying behind her. Her fox ears are perked to high attention and she has a gentle smile on her lips. Somehow, she looks like she is equally ready to go to bed, as she is to start grand things tonight.
“Thank you for coming so fast…” Fubuki breathes and her turquoise orbs bore into you with an unfamiliar intensity. She steps aside and motions for you to come in. Dumbfounded, you do just that. You take off your shoes as the fox-girl closes the door behind you, locking it again.
“Fubuki… what’s going on?” you finally ask and the woman chuckles a little, nervous.
“A-ahhh. That’s… quite hard to explain,” she gently grasps your hand and guides you to the living room.
Compared to her previous apartment, this one was a little smaller, yet still bigger than your own. It was clearly decorated by a woman that did not need to consider male tastes. Plenty of personal pictures line the walls and chains of lights saturate the living room with warm orange lighting. You are led to a dark-grey couch that fits in well with the rest of the furnishing.
Fubuki ushers you to sit down, while she disappears into the kitchen to prepare some drinks. In the far corner of the room, you spot a tall scratching tree with a familiar tomcat sitting in its top compartment, suspiciously eyeing the new guest. You smile at the kitten, a gesture you cannot claim is returned. Sighing, you avert your eyes – you never had been good with animals.
You spot a half-emptied bottle of wine sitting on the coffee table, a matching glass right next to it. Its bottom is still wetted. You do not know what exactly is going on, but you are sure as shit it is not one of the scenarios you had imagined on your way here. Oddly enough, your pulse is rising anyways.
When the fox girl returns, she sits down next to you and hands you a cup of tea. Silently, you sip on the beverage, before you dare to ask again: “What’s… going on, Fubuki?”
The woman shuffles in her seat, before she begins with her explanation. You have trouble following her narrative, not because you are so mesmerized by… something else, but because the story she tells is barely coherent and, quite obviously, made up in large parts.
“Sooo…” you try to summarize, setting your cup of tea down on the coffee table, eyebrows slowly rising. “You felt that you maybe… could have a relapse during the meeting tomorrow, and wanted to call in an ‘emergency session’ to prevent that?” Fubuki nods strongly, giving off hums of confirmation. You hesitate. “In other words, you called me here for a… hug?”
“Whaaaa- hug?!… A hug?! Hahaha, noooo… nonono… I didn’t call you because of a hug!” the arctic fox laughs, her eyes darting everywhere but at you. “I wouldn’t call you here for… just a hug! That’s ridiculous! Ahahaha! Haha… ha… haaaa…”
Just as quick as it had started, her laugh dies down and she sighs. Defeated, her shoulders slump and her ears droop. “Ahh… I guess-” her voice was a lot quieter now. “I guess I did call you for a hug, after all.”
What? Was she- could she possibly imply that…?
“Okay,” you catch yourself agreeing, your tongue quicker than your head. It does not matter, as you are quite sure that your brain would have not made a better decision, even if given the time. Fubuki darts up, searching your face for confirmation of the words she had just heard.
The next moment is a blur – you just react on muscle memory, as arms and legs sort themselves and bodies brush and press together. Everything falls into place far too naturally. Fully wrapped up with Fubuki in your lap, you finally manage to form thoughts again.
God, you hate how much you have missed this. Her small, soft frame… her scent- wait… is this “Wednesday” you smell on her? But it is Sunday, is it not? And the way she nuzzles her head into your neck is different from before, too… kind of like something you had once seen on Animal Planet... Hold on.
“Fubuki…” you murmur, the hand caressing her hair freezing in place. “Are you… rubbing your scent… on me?” The fox in question stops her movement for a moment, before switching to the other side of your neck, continuing the ministrations even more enthusiastically. By the time she raises her head to look at you, your breath catches in your throat.
Her eyes are half-lidded, a thin, fanged smile gracing her lips. The white strands on her head are tousled from her rubbing against you, giving her a wild, almost predatory allure. Fubuki completely ignores the question you just asked.
“Say…” she breathes instead, starting to fiddle with the collar of your shirt. “If I were to tell you that by… biological circumstances… I was not fully in control of my desires today. And I did something to you that I normally wouldn’t… would you forgive me?”
You gulp audibly. What the hell was she talking about? YOU were the one hard-pressed to refrain from some hard-to-forgive things right now! “D-depends,” you stutter. “But yeah, I would, probably...” Fubuki nods, deep in thought. Her head cocks lightly and her hands move upwards to cradle your cheeks. She says nothing for a moment, slim fingers drawing along the contours of your face. Her gaze wanders to the side, contemplating her next words.
“And if my… excuse… turned out to be a lie…? If I wasn’t hormonal, but just a hopeless, selfish girl, trying to get closer to you? W-would you still forgive me…?” Her voice is sweet as honey, but you sense a particular fragility hidden beneath all of it. Her eyes shine brighter, too… a clear indication of tears starting to gather. You gently grasp her hands, not pulling them away, but holding them in place.
“Fubuki… what’s gotten into you? Did something happen?” You whisper, worry now exceeding your lust for all the things the fox was subtly promising.
Fubuki sighs and looks away. “It’s… during yesterday’s off-stream collab, some of the girls and I were talking... about you, too. It was all in good fun, but when” —you see a light blush dusting the woman’s cheeks— “when we were a few glasses of wine in, Coco started talking about how you totally were her type, and how she wished you’d… just grab her, slam her against a wall and-“ she coughs lightly and lets out a shaky breath.
Your eyes meet again, a strange passion now burning in Fubuki’s turquoise orbs, as she bites her lip. “I couldn’t help but think that I didn’t want… that. That I only wanted you to do those things to me… that I only wanted you for myself.”
She wants you? She wants you. You loosen your hold on her hands, your own slowly trailing down to stroke her sides. You have no idea if you deserve this, but debating the morality of the situation is the furthest thing from your mind right now. The fox girl sees your silence as an invitation, now closing in on you until your noses brush together.
“I lost so many things in the last months… but I got you. You’ve been so good to me… more so than anyone ever has before…” You feel something wet hit your cheek, likely a tear. “I trust you… you’re the only one I trust. Am I selfish for not wanting to share you with anyone…?”
You move one hand up to the back of her head, gently pulling her in until your foreheads touch. “No, you’re not,” you reassure her and pet one of her soft ears. “But is this… alright? After everything that’s happened… is it not too soon...?”
A smile graces Fubuki lips and she shakes her head. “I trust you, didn’t you hear?” She starts to scratch your temples with the tip of her fingers, making you close your eyes in pure bliss. “I’ve had my eyes on you for a while now, too… and there’s no reason to feel guilty about it anymore. I… just— tell me one more thing…” her caress stops and you reopen your eyes, patiently waiting for the question.
It never comes. Instead, her lips brush against yours, pulling you into the most mind-numbing kiss you had ever experienced.
There was no way in hell you would do anything but reciprocate, and thus the gentle back and forth between you starts. Every needy noise Fubuki makes, you immediately answer by increasing the intensity of your intimacy. Your hands set out to touch places you have only fantasized about before, and she does the same. Soon, mere lips are not enough, and your tongues reach out, touching together in a passionate fight for dominance. You taste a hint of wine on her and smirk into her lips, enamored by the fact that even your brave little fox had needed some liquid courage to set things in motion tonight. When Fubuki pulls back for the first time, she playfully bites your lower lip, taking it with her partway.
“Tell me…” she pants. “Would you do this for ‘any of the girls’, too?” You blink twice until you realize that this is the question she had announced before. A breathless chuckle escapes you, as you reach out to caress her cheek.
“I couldn’t,” you breathe and Fubuki grins triumphantly, moving in for another kiss.
“Good.”
The first one had not pulled any punches, but the second one was escalating things to another level. The speed and accuracy with which Fubuki moves to strip you of your jacket and shirt shows where exactly she sees things going tonight.
“Be mine. Be mine and I’ll be yours… please. I want you...” She whispers into your ear, before she moves down to bite your neck in a way that would definitely leave a mark for the next couple of days. You give her a few moments, indulging in the arousing mixture of pleasure and pain, before you move to flip your positions.
As Fubuki lies there beneath you, utterly vulnerable and breathless, you spot not a hint of fear in her eyes – only unbridled passion, need and trust. “Of course,” you lean down and whisper back to her, mirroring her action from before. “Anything for you.”
You go for her neck in the same fashion she had, making sure she knows that this possessiveness is a two-way-street. Fubuki wraps her legs around your waist and welcomes you with a soft mewl – one of many more to come this night. She shifts her head to the side for better access, wholeheartedly agreeing with all the non-verbal messages you are sending.
“I love you.”
Turns out, there is still a lot more exposure to indulge in for the two of you. You hope this therapy will never end.