Chapter Text
The nameless fox kit huddled in a locked bathroom stall and tried to retract his tail.
He’d traveled all the way to the Tokyo airport on four paws, believing he could shapeshift to imitate a human passenger and slip onto an airplane. But it turned out the security checkpoints all required identification, which he did not yet have the skills to create. The security guard had been so very interested in a five-year-old child traveling alone that his tail had popped out, and then he’d fled. Only a quick illusion of himself running in the other direction had saved him. If he got caught with his fox tail out, then he’d be hunted by the entire airport—not merely his stepfather.
The fox kit came from a very traditional kitsune family who believed children should not obtain names until they came of age at sixteen. Until that age, children were not considered people. They could be discarded for being weak. The nameless fox kit had not feared this fate when his mother had been the only parent he knew, because he’d always been stronger than the average child. Not many could shapeshift, create rudimentary illusions, and produce small balls of foxfire at age five. Everyone said he would surely grow his second tail within a few years. Then his mother had married a tanuki, and the racoon yokai was also traditional. In particular, the tanuki believed in the tradition of killing all the offspring of his new mate to make room for his own. The little fox kit had not even been given a chance to show his skills. He’d been doomed from the moment the marriage ceremony ended. His own mother had watched with calm, indifferent eyes as he’d been chased around the living room.
A little kit was no match for an adult yokai. Only because his stepfather had toyed with him had he gotten the chance to set the sofa on fire and flee out the window. The kit had been able to hitch a ride on the back of a truck. If he was caught again, he had no doubt he would die.
Fear only made it harder to keep his tail in. The kit pressed his hand to his bruised cheek. His ribs throbbed where his stepfather’s claws had dug in.
The bathroom door opened, and the smell of raccoon drifted in. The kit froze. It was difficult for a yokai to hide their smell, but the current stakes were life or death. The kit focused on his mind on projecting an ape-like human smell. He was not capable of turning into an adult, but he grew into at least a preteen. Alas, shapeshifting could not remove his injuries. He kept his head low as he hurried out of the stall.
His stepfather barely glanced his way, checking the closest bathroom stall.
Once out of sight, the kit ran. He was not strong enough to hide his scent for longer than fifteen minutes. He gasped, tears prickling behind his eyes. If his tail popped out now, it would be all over. Already he could feel his height shrinking, but no one had noticed, too distracted with their travels as he ran past.
Two men sat on a bench outside the security checkpoint. One carried a bundle of balloons shaped like animals, the largest elephant floating on top. The other carried a sign with the name “Haruki” and a photograph of a Japanese boy with bright eyes. They had anxious expressions on their faces. The man with the balloons kept checking his watch.
In a broken-hearted voice, the man with the sign said, “Taiki, the adoption agency isn’t replying to any messages. I don’t think…he’s coming.” He swallowed hard, the hints of tears forming in the corners of his eyes.
The fox kit understood nothing except that these two men were looking for a child who would not come. They could get him out of the airport. He shifted into a face identical to the one on the sign and cried, “I’m Haruki!”
He only intended to use these two humans to escape. He never planned to stay longer than a day.
Taiki Hirano had always wanted to adopt a child, but never expected he would be able to, because he was a gay man living in Japan. He barely remembered what it was like to have a family. He’d lost his parents at a young age and been tossed around between distant relatives who didn’t want him. At one point the Child Guidance Center had taken him away from an abusive home, only to send him to a residential care facility where the caretakers had also been physically violent. He’d kept his head down and studied hard at school to get out.
It had become Taiki’s nature to accept what he couldn’t control. There was nothing he could do about the punches as a child, so he’d endured them. Japan was a country where gay people couldn’t get married and marriage was almost always required for adoption, and he wasn’t willing to deceive a woman into marrying him. He’d simply accepted that a family wouldn’t happen for him and focused on his career as a doctor.
Then Taiki had met Myung Yi, a construction worker laboring near the hospital where he worked. Taiki had tripped and sprained his ankle, and Myung had carried him back to the hospital. Although Taiki had gotten the vibe that Myung was flirting, he was too cautious believe it. Not until Myung had asked him out on a date the next day with flowers.
Unlike Taiki, Myung always went after what he wanted. Myung had been born in North Korea, labored in the coal mines as an orphaned child, been conscripted into the military at age seventeen, and escaped to Japan on a fishing boat. He’d spent his entire life being fed propaganda about the world outside North Korea, but he’d decided there must be something better out there and made the perilous journey across the ocean.
Even though they couldn’t get married legally, Myung had proposed saying they could be married in their hearts. When they’d gotten their partnership certificate, Tokyo’s sad substitute for gay marriage with very few rights, Myung had legally changed his last name to Hirano since he had no attachment to his family name.
Myung strongly desired to adopt a child with disabilities or past trauma. Taiki had been taken by the idea, believing that because of what the two of them had suffered in the past they would be uniquely suited to understand and help such a child. Caught up in his husband’s enthusiasm, Taiki had let himself believe it was possible. Even if the system was prejudiced against them, Japan had such a low rate of adoptions and foster parents that maybe those in charge could not afford to be choosy with difficult to place children. Taiki made enough money as a doctor that he could allow Myung to stay home, making them suited to look after a high-needs child.
Their journey had been a miserable failure. They’d been rejected for both a joint adoption (for non-married couples) and as foster parents. The child guidance center official had sneered and openly told them that it would be better for a child to stay in a residential center than be placed with a couple with a “degenerate lifestyle.”
Just when they’d nearly reached despair, they’d found a private adoption agency that specialized in placing children with special needs. The agent had shown them a picture of Haruki, a five-year-old orphan who’d suffered from abuse at the hands of distant relatives and was nonverbal. Taiki had been touched by the story of a child with a similar past to his own. He’d wanted a chance to save someone else as he wished he’d been saved back then.
First the adoption agency had taken the usual fees, then they’d claimed that Haruki needed additional money for medical treatments. Taiki had opened his wallet without hesitation. By the second time Haruki had a medical emergency, the thought had crossed Taiki’s mind that this seemed fishy. Especially since they’d been denied permission to come and meet the child at the hospital. The agent claimed it would be too painful to get Haruki’s hopes up before the official adoption. Taiki had asked for the adoption paperwork, received it, and it looked legitimate. He’d wanted to have faith for once instead of being his usual pessimistic self, so he’d forged ahead despite his doubts and sent the money.
As Taiki and Myung sat in the Tokyo airport, waiting for a child supposed to arrive from Sapporo, reality set in. Taiki reached over and intertwined his hand with his husband’s. They’d both tattooed wedding rings onto their fingers, in defiance of a legal system that would not let them get married. Taiki could tell that Myung was on the verge of tears. Neither of them wanted to be the first to admit they’d been scammed. The loss of their money probably meant they did not have enough savings to try again. The loss of their dream hurt even more.
Then a small boy ran forward, crying, “I’m Haruki!”
It had been odd from the beginning. Why wouldn’t the child be accompanied by adoption agents? Why was he talking even though he was supposed to be nonverbal? Then Haruki had stumbled, and Taiki had seen blood leaking from under the child’s shirt. From there, all other thoughts had been erased by the need to get Haruki to the hospital.
In the hospital waiting room, Taiki and Myung had privately conferred about their concerns. They’d asked Haruki if he had any other family to return to. The poor child had burst into tears and begged not to be sent back, saying that he’d be killed. There had been sincere terror in those big brown eyes.
Taiki had remembered how no one had ever helped him when he’d been abused. Japan had a bad reputation about turning a blind eye to child abuse and returning children to horrific homes.
Since Taiki and Myung had the official adoption paperwork already, it had been easier for them to not question anything. If they prodded into the fishy adoption agency, what if Haruki got taken away and sent back to guardians who had threatened to kill him?
Taiki didn’t need his money back. He just needed his new son to be safe. Haruki belonged to their family, and they’d protect him from now on.
Kitsunes were adaptable creatures. The nameless fox kit easily adjusted to being called Haruki Hirano, though he still saw this as a temporary name and a temporary family. After being released from the hospital, he planned to sneak away and try to escape on a bullet train next.
But Taiki and Myung cooked such an enormous welcome home feast, with a mixture of Korean and Japanese dishes, that Haruki decided to stay long enough to get his energy back. He did not seriously plan to live with humans. His mother had taught that humans were inferior creatures, only good as prey, and the kind of foxes who lived with or even married humans were weaklings. Taiki said to call him Father and Myung said to call him Dad, but Haruki didn’t call them anything. They didn’t seem to notice. Or at least, they didn’t comment on it.
It was easy for Haruki to lose track of time as his life quickly fell into an established routine. Taiki rose early in the morning to go to work, so Myung was in charge of getting Haruki dressed and fed. Then Myung tutored Haruki in preparation for sending him to school. The two humans had been appalled that Haruki did not know things they considered basic like the names of the days of the week. Why would a fox kit know such things? That was human knowledge. Haruki had been so annoyed at their pitying looks that he had scratched Myung. That got Haruki sent to time out, which had puzzled him because he’d expected to be hit with a wooden spoon. The humans were weaklings like his mother said, to use such pitiful punishments.
Myung was also teaching Haruki to speak Korean and English. According to Myung, Haruki was a very fast learner, which he thought went without saying since he was a yokai.
In the evening, Taiki would bring home a treat like strawberry mochi purchased on his way home from work. Taiki would always hold out his arms to offer a hug, but he didn’t force Haruki to hug him. This was puzzling to Haruki, because his mother hadn’t been very physically demonstrative, but when she did want to hug him she never asked for permission first. Then over dinner Taiki would listen to what Haruki had done that day. This also seemed strange, because Haruki had been taught that children should be seen and not heard. However Taiki seemed to find Haruki’s day to be fascinating. Haruki supposed that humans were easily entertained. He kept a hand behind his back to stop his tail from popping out when he got praised for what he’d learned.
“I love you,” both Taiki and Myung said when they put Haruki to bed every night. This was the sort of behavior that his mother would have considered weak, so Haruki didn’t say anything in response.
The two humans also took Haruki to a child psychiatrist once a week. This was the most pointless activity of all, but Haruki considered it a chance to practice his lying skills. He’d gotten better at hiding his tail too. Myung had glimpsed it once, but humans were astoundingly good at convincing themselves that they hadn’t seen strange things.
On the weekends, Taiki cooked. Once Taiki got out a wooden spoon to make udon, and Haruki had panicked thinking he’d gotten into trouble. Haruki had scratched Taiki, then run out to the backyard to hide under a bush. While the two men had run around calling his name with increasing fear, Haruki finally felt so guilty that he returned to human form to take his punishment. To his surprise, Taiki wasn’t angry at all and promised to never ever hit Haruki and buy a plastic spoon instead. Haruki didn’t even get sent to time out. Humans were very soft.
Over time, Haruki acquired more clothing that he picked out himself (another human oddity, letting children pick.) In the morning, Myung would let Haruki choose between a couple outfits. Haruki had been working on dressing himself but still found human clothing confusing. He always used to wear traditional yukatas.
“Put on my Mickey Mouse shirt,” Haruki said.
“Okay,” Myung put the shirt on his own head with a big grin.
Myung was always goofing around. “No, on me,” Haruki ordered, stamping his foot.
“I see,” Myung said seriously, folding the shirt and then putting it on Haruki’s head.
Haruki giggled, then clamped his hand behind so his tail didn’t pop out. “I can put it on myself since you’re too silly.” Haruki managed the shirt easily, but struggled with the pants.
“Do you need help with the zipper?” Myung asked.
“What’s a zipper?”
An emotion flashed across Myung’s face that Haruki believed to be pity. It put his hackles up immediately, because how dare anyone pity a proud kitsune kit? Pity meant that you were weak, and weak meant that you’d die.
“The zipper is the little silver piece of metal,” Myung said. “I’ll show you.”
“I don’t need your help. You have inferior blood,” Haruki hissed, his teeth bared and fingers curled like claws.
An expression of deep pain crossed Myung’s face. It was so strong that Haruki’s hands fell loose to his sides. He had not expected such a reaction. Myung was an incurably good-natured optimist. When other humans insulted him because he’d been born in Korea not Japan, he just let it roll off his back. The old lady who lived next door would hiss chosenjin whenever Myung passed by. Myung only laughed and told Haruki that when people said nasty words like that, it proved they weren’t creative enough to think up smart insults.
Haruki had the sudden and unexpected realization that his words had hurt because Myung loved him. Myung didn’t care what that old lady thought, but he cared what Haruki thought.
“I’m sorry, Dad!” Haruki cried, flinging his arms around Myung’s waist and hugging him. “I didn’t mean it. I love you.”
Myung’s eyes overflowed with tears. “You finally said it!” He patted Haruki’s back. “I love you, too. I love you so much.”
Love contained the power to hurt someone else. That was why Haruki’s mother had never said she loved him. His mother would have punished him for insulting her, but she never would have cared about his opinion of her because caring was a vulnerability. In that moment, Haruki decided to forget all of his mother’s teachings about humans. She was a coward who had left him to die rather than stand up to his stepfather. She did not possess a fraction of the strength of his two fathers, who were strong enough to love even when it meant getting hurt.
After that, Haruki resolved to stay forever with his two fathers. This was his home and his family, and he would fight with claw and fire against anyone who threatened it.
TWELVE YEARS LATER:
Haruki had a brief moment of panic when he woke up and looked at his bedside clock, then he remembered it was Saturday. He didn’t have school, only plans to meet his friends for crepes in the afternoon.
Blearily, Haruki headed to the bathroom and splashed water on his face. Then he used a little shapeshifting to make the bags under his eyes vanish. Over the years, he’d been changing his face incrementally every morning. He’d copied Taiki’s long, slender neck, arched brows, and downturned eyes, and Myung’s strong jaw, small nose, and lustrously thick, wavy black hair. Kitsunes always crafted their own faces as they aged based on their personal beauty standard, and in Haruki’s opinion, his dads were the most handsome men in the world.
This morning, Haruki also spotted a moustache drawn on his lip. He knew exactly which of his fathers had been responsible for doing this while he’d slept. Myung and Haruki had an ongoing prank war. As a kitsune, Haruki would consider it a shame to his entire species if he let this go without payback.
Chuckling, Haruki scrubbed off the moustache. It had been drawn in a washable marker they both used for pranks, because Taiki would murder them if they spread permanent marker around the house.
Rice and grilled fish had already been laid on the dining room table for breakfast. Two plates had been eaten. His fathers must have wanted to let him sleep in (or, in Myung’s case, prank him.) Taiki was putting on his coat in the doorway.
“Are you heading to work?” Haruki asked as he sat down.
“Yeah, I have a Saturday shift at the hospital today.” Taiki kissed his son on the top of his head. “You’re going out with your Supernatural Club friends, right? Here’s some money.” He slipped a bill into Haruki’s hand.
From another room, Myung called, “Freckles, where are you? I swear, that cat can telepathically detect when I want to give him a bath.”
Haruki meowed, a perfect imitation of his cat.
Taiki raised an amused eyebrow. “I’m always impressed you can do such flawless animal imitations.”
“He deserves it.”
“I have no doubt.” Taiki laughed.
Myung burst into the dining room, still in his bathrobe. “Freckles!” He poked around and even crawled under the dining room table.
Another meow came from upstairs.
As soon as Myung went upstairs, Haruki meowed again.
Myung ran down. “Is our cat a teleporter as well as a telepath? Wait. Haruki, I see that grin on your face.”
“I haven’t done anything.” Haruki picked up his chopsticks.
“You’re imitating the cat again!” Myung was distracted by a meow behind him as Freckles came down the stairs.
Freckles was a yellow male tabby with little black spots on his nose similar to human freckles. The newest addition to the family had been the result of Haruki begging for a cat as an elementary school graduation present. At the moment, Freckles had soot all over his back, an indication that someone had left the glass door around the fireplace open.
“There you are. Come on, you only need a quick wash before you track dirt around the house.” Myung lunged, barely missing.
Freckles hopped up into Haruki’s lap. Shifting to avoid the soot, Haruki hissed, Behave, this is all your fault for getting into the fireplace.
Haruki’s teachers at school were impressed that he was trilingual: he could speak Japanese and Korean fluently, and English nearly-fluently, thanks to Myung’s teaching from a young age. They might be even more impressed if they’d known that Haruki could also speak Cat.
Freckles flattened his ears, indicating his resignation to the bath. Although Freckles didn’t exactly speak in sentences, he and Haruki understood each other.
“I swear, you two are like brothers,” Myung said, watching quizzically. “Freckles is my smarter child, of course.”
“That’s right, he knows enough to run away from your ugly face.” Haruki nodded.
“I’m off to work,” Taiki said. “Don’t wait on me for dinner, I have a late shift.”
“I packed extra in your lunch to tide you over.” Myung ducked into the kitchen and returned holding a bento box fastened with a handkerchief. “We’ll miss you. I have a joke about retirement, but it doesn’t work.”
It took them a moment to get it, then they both groaned. Taiki sometimes said that Myung had wanted to be a father so he could tell dad jokes.
Taiki said, “Haruki, tell me to embrace my mistakes.”
“Embrace your mistakes?”
Taiki walked over and hugged Myung.
“Hey!” Myung yelped. “I’m going to get you for that.” He hugged Taiki hard enough to lift him off his feet.
Haruki chuckled. “Father, you married Dad, so you signed up for his sense of humor. I didn’t pick him.”
But that was a lie. Haruki had picked his family.
Haruki’s friends were engaged in a passionate debate.
“Chocolate crepes are the best,” Mariko insisted, slamming her hand down on the glass table hard enough to rattle it. A piece of strawberry fell out of her crepe. She hastily held her hand straight, the chocolate-flavored crepe peeking out of the paper wrapping.
“The chocolate overpowers the flavor of the fruit and ice cream.” Chika took a bite of her original crepe overflowing with stuffing. The Harujuku shopping district had their own unique twist on crepes sold in stands all along the street: fruit, ice cream, whipped cream, and sauce wrapped into a cone shape.
Both girls turned demanding gazes on Haruki. “Well?” Mariko shook her head so hard the beads on her pigtails rattled.
“You get the tie-breaker vote.” Chika scrunched up her round face and upturned nose.
“Sorry, I love all crepes equally.” Haruki took a bite of his hot caramel and nuts crepe.
“Coward,” Mariko complained.
“Keep your ears in, we’re in public,” Chika whispered.
Mariko’s hands went to her head before she realized her friend had just been messing with her. Also, she’d gotten cream in her hair. She wiped it off with a glare. Mariko was a bakaneko or cat yokai.
Chika munched on her crepe unrepentantly. She was a tanuki or raccoon yokai, although fortunately her family didn’t follow the creepy traditions of Haruki’s former stepfather. She’d been appalled to hear the story. Chika said that tanuki didn’t usually kill children even back in ancient times. According to her, the self-proclaimed traditionalist yokai liked to act even more extreme than anyone actually had in the past. Edgelords, she called them.
Haruki had first met his friends when they had scented him out and invited him into the Supernatural Club in middle school. Their club advisor had also been a yokai. In order to stay with his friends, he’d gone to an affiliated high school. They didn’t even have a clubroom or advertise, and so far they hadn’t gotten any humans trying to join. He credited the club with teaching him how to use his powers. He’d been very proud when he’d recently grown his third tail.
“Speaking of that stuff…” Mariko lowered her voice. They sat at an outdoor table with the sound of their conversation covered by the crowds walking down the street. Harujuku bustled on the weekends, a popular destination for both locals and tourists drawn by the tall stores stretching up on either side. Teenage fashionistas passed by in goth Lolita and anime-inspired cosplays. Around here, even if someone heard them talking about the supernatural, people would assume they were roleplaying. But Mariko still spoke in code, probably out of habit. “You haven’t told your fathers your secret yet?”
Haruki licked up a bit of sauce on his hand to stall for time. “I will. I’m thinking…my eighteenth birthday? Or my graduation ceremony? Either way, they’ll be so full of emotion that they won’t think too much about it.”
“I’m sure they’ll still have the energy to be surprised about…that.” Chika snorted. “Seriously, just get it over with. Your dads are chill, they’ll adapt. The longer you wait, the more they’re going to feel hurt that you didn’t tell them for so long.” Non-traditionalist demons also had a lax attitude about bringing humans into their secrets. If it went wrong, then yokai with memory erasure powers would fix it.
Haruki knew his dads loved him unconditionally and would have no problems accepting him as a kitsune, but he didn’t know how to admit he’d been lying to them for over a decade. He hadn’t thought about long-term consequences as a child. Now, whenever he tried to tell them, the words just wouldn’t come out.
He had no idea how his parents would react to an entire world of supernatural beings unveiled. It seemed cruel to shock them with the information. He’d never want to hurt them or cause them any stress.
By his early twenties, Haruki would start aging slower than a human. He needed to reveal the truth by then. Optimistically, didn’t that mean he still had another five or so years?
A girl passed by wearing a frilly black dress with cloth devil wings poking out the back. She walked a Rottweiler with a spiked collar on a leash. Upon scenting Haruki, the dog turned and growled.
Haruki, Chika, and Mariko dropped their crepes, huddled together, and squealed. Cats, raccoons, and foxes all had an aversion to dogs. However, kitsunes and dogs had a particular enmity. Dogs had such an uncanny ability to detect kitsunes and see through their illusions that Haruki was half-convinced humans had bred them to hunt people like him. The hair rose down his neck and goosebumps covered his arms. His tails and ears strained to come out at the sound of another growl.
An even sharper growl pierced the air, and the dog rolled over to show his belly. As Ren walked past, the dog fled so fast he dragged along his owner with him.
Ren was beanstalk tall, with glasses and straight silver hair falling slightly past his shoulders. Today two canine silver ears poked out. The last member of their club was an okami or wolf yokai, but Haruki didn’t mind because wolves were all right in his book. Wolf packs didn’t get used as hunting dogs by humans.
“Thank you,” Haruki said, yanking out a chair for his friend and bowing in elaborate gratitude. “You’ve chased off the monster.” When the family had been considering pets, a dog had never been an option. His fathers thought he’d been hurt by a dog in the past because they upset him so much. It was good to have a friend who could make anything canine submit to him.
Ren rolled his eyes. “You three, with all your powers, have no right to be scared of a tame pet dog.”
“I’m not scared.” Mariko examined her nails. “They’re merely such dreadfully uncivilized creatures.”
“Ren, your ears are out,” Chika said. “And…is that your tail too?” She looked at the long, fluffy silver tail.
Ren took a seat. “Who cares? I’m in Harujuku, everyone will think I’m cosplaying.” It would be even more plausible because of his gothic grunge fashion: plaid pants with a black leather jacket covered in silver studs.
Mariko snorted. “That kind of attitude is why you keep getting in trouble with our homeroom teacher.” The quartet snuck into the school and rigged paperwork to all be in the same homeroom class every year.
“I refuse to dye my beautiful hair black.” Ren twirled a lock. “Silver is my natural hair color. Therefore, I’m not violating the school rules against dyed hair. Our teachers can die mad about it.”
Since Ren had been skipping around attempts to dye his hair black for his entire school career, Haruki believed in his friend’s ability to last for their final year. In another school, perhaps Ren’s beautiful locks would have gotten him a fanclub. In their academics-heavy school, people called him a chuunibyou. However, Ren was one of those rare people blessed with total indifference about what anyone else thought of him.
“Chocolate or plain crepe flavor?” Chika crossed her arms.
Ren blinked. “Chocolate is okay sometimes, but plain is the best. Hmm, I think I’m in the mood for a savory crepe today.”
Chika cheered while Mariko sighed and muttered about how she needed friends with better taste.
“After we finish eating, want to go looking for clothing deals at Ragtag?” Haruki grinned. “Father gave me some spending money.”
Hideki Tojo had stayed away from Japan for the last decade, ever since one of his scams had run afoul of the yakuza. Most recently he’d been in South Africa, until he’d gotten in trouble with the police there. Now that he was back in Tokyo, he took a moment to check up on old victims just in case he needed to avoid them.
In Tokyo, Tojo had pulled off some very profitable adoption scams. His stroke of genius, in his opinion, had been targeting the gay population and people who wanted to adopt high-need children. The former were desperate and rejected everywhere else, and the latter had more compassion than brains. Tojo had turned it into an art form. He’d lovingly crafted profiles for his fake children, giving them hobbies, personalities, and tragic backstories. From online, he’d stolen real letters that children had written to prospective adopted parents. Once a wannabe parent felt love for the child, they were hooked. They would completely drain their savings paying for fake medical emergencies. They would sell off their belongings. Some would even take out predatory loans. When Tojo bailed, he would receive begging texts from them not for their money back but just to know what had happened to the vanished child. Truly, only drug addicts made better suckers.
Tojo paused on the social media page of Taiki Hirano, who he’d once milked hard for the doctor dollars. What the hell? It looked like Taiki had somehow acquired a child who had never existed. What, had the deviant kidnapped a kid and then used the fake paperwork Tojo had provided to legitimize it?
Here was prime blackmail material for a con artist who needed funds in order to start over and continue scamming people. Tojo grinned and licked his lips.