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In the dead of night, laboured breathing kept Tecchou awake. It was no new sight, the slightly shivering form of a person wrapped tightly in his arms. He had first assumed those shivers to stem from nightmares. He’d since learned to see the gesture as anticipatory, an announcement of the way their mouth watered at the prospect of entertainment.
In his arms, Jouno dreamed restlessly– their body tightened, jaw working as if it ached to bite. He could imagine them running through open fields, teeth bared, with the low fences surrounding the grounds doing nothing to keep the wolf out. Still, he held them close to his chest, pretending not to notice the predator that stirred so close to him.
The dreamer had called themself a wolf before. Tecchou had always insisted they were a mere dog. Those were not the same, the argument rang, before always spiralling into the same conclusion: If Jouno were a dog, they were a rabid breed that longed for the hunt and could not be kept. Bouncing off the walls, looking for a way outside the house, running into the fields where the sheep grazed with saliva already dripping from their teeth.
These innocent lambs did not yet know the difference between the saviour and the hunter– to them, each dog had the same form, inviting trust that the rabid hound did not deserve.
Tecchou still thought they were wrong.
In the fields stood a dog, faced with a ‘wolf’. The guard kept the flock safe as the wolf paced the perimeter, the vile panting sound that echoed betraying their hunger.
The dog would not yield. Be it a day or be it a year, he would chase that hungry wolf away.
He did not blame it, though. Despite digging his teeth deep into the wolf’s tail each time it dared snap its jaws at the lost lambs that strayed too far outside the fences, he would not see the creature as broken.
It was in its nature. Such a thing took time to forget.
In the dead of night, he could hear Jouno muttering in their sleep, words reminiscent of shed fleece and mutton chops, as they chased sheep around their dreams the way he feared they would if these fences ever failed and he no longer stood between them and the sheep herd.
But the dog had also seen remorse in the hungry wolf that had gotten its fill of the sheep left behind. Sometimes, it too longed for the security of the dog life.
A rabid hound that wept after it bit into a lamb’s neck was no better than the dog that didn’t; remorse wouldn’t bring salvation or forgiveness with it, only actions showed conviction.
In the end, blood still stained the sharp teeth of their crooked smile.
Jouno’s cruelty didn’t scare him. It was the things that they could do without a counterweight that held them back and reminded them of the dog whose place they tried to fill.
The way he feared it could destroy them.