For your reading pleasure, I have a bit of a guest post. Sam has been working on this story for weeks and is seriously seeking feedback. So, if you have time to read and leave comments he would be seriously ecstatic. 
Found and Lost
an original story by Sam Martin
Chapter One
A lone figure dressed in a shirt stating “Life’s all fun and games until someone laughs their head off”, baggy crepe pants, a watch, sunshine-blond hair surveyed the area from his vantage point, a stack of crates next to a cruiseliner. This is our main character, Kaleb Wolfheart. Humans and ningen doubutsu (anthropomorfic humans) inspecting wares. Seaside bars with lines of rowdy sailors and other characters. Market stalls, vendors screaming their inventory. Nope. No kittens. No orange fur balls. He kept looking, emerald eyes catching the sun as he swung his head around, accompanied by his forest of white-blond hair making its trademark rustling. Still no kittens. He glanced down at his Tokyo Dreams watch.
Where was he? He turned and jumped to another stack, landing on his knee and foot. He stood in the shadow of the S.S. Trans-Global, a magnificent cruise-liner six stories high, emblazoned with a sea-eagle and the globe clutched between its talons. Its new purpose, however, was to escape to North America specifically (as if they don’t have enough problems).
“Mewr! Meeewr!”
“Scrick, scrick.”
The kittens? No, a kitten.
“Screeeeeek… scrick.”
Climbing up the crates?
No, a kitten can’t do that. Besides, it sounded too heav-
“Meewr!”
“Pffoo!”
He whipped around to see the kitten plop head over tail landing on the crate next to him looking quite bedraggled, orange fur matted. Kaleb sighed, picking up the kitten and stroking it. “Hizoku, I asked you to find the kittens and report to me, not to bring one hostage.”
A suave, silky voice replied from behind the crate, “Oh, is that what you said? I was staring at a bird, so I guess I missed that part. My bad.”
A round, fuzzy, brown , slightly human head poked out from the side of the stack, spitting out orange fur. Small, round eyes sat just above a short snout and rubbery nose. An explosion of brown and white hair that covered most of his body. Two arms poked out of a Pac-Man T-shirt. Two legs, although short and more suited to walking rather than running on them were almost hidden in child size-4 shorts. A torso made up with over half of his body, with Pac-Man on his chest, and a long, ringed tail. A raccoon? Nope. A tanuki. Or, the more appropriate term would be anthropomorfic tanuki.
He clumsily tried to climb onto the barrel, but his legs were rather short, so he just kicked air. Kaleb snorted, falling to his knees to meet Hizoku’s eyes, “You need help?” He replied huskily, almost offended, “Nope. I… I can (tpffh) do it myself…” “Fine.” Kaleb stood back up, staring down at his companion, eyes half-lidded and smiling smugly in amusement, the kitten mewing in protest. His ears went flat against his skull and he got to work. He first tried to hoist his left leg over the edge, but he still couldn’t get even a toe over. He tried swinging his whole body around over to the edge, but he threatened to lose his grip. He tried to reach out to Kaleb’s boot, but his arms were too short and his paws gripped air.
“Meeewr!”
Our Hero rolled his eyes, “Oh, for Amaterasu’s sake, you need help,” Hizoku slid backwards suddenly, leaving claw marks in the mahogany crate before answering grumpily, “I admit defeat.”
He placed the kitten beside him, and grabbed under his arms and managed to get his feet over the side. Kaleb snorted, “You. Exercise. Now,” Once his hind paws hit wood, he stood up, paws on what would be his scrawny hips. Now, in Japanese lore, raccoon dogs were notorious for harmless mischief, trash-talking, eating, and drinking excessively. Hizoku doesn’t drink or eat excessively, but he doesn’t exercise much. They would be ashamed. And also, they were magical, able to shape-shift into anything they’ve seen, and are considered good luck to restaurant owners and wineries, like when specific people like to put The Buddha on their porches. Only, the Buddha was way more obese than Hizoku. And it was in a restaurant that Our Hero found him. Having an argument with a bar owner. You may think it’s weird that tanukis talk, but nothing has been really the same since the storm came.
It was terrible: waves swamped the coastal houses, dragging debris and people into the raging sea; thunder set fire to or destroying more; tornadoes abound, throwing pieces of broken houses into solid brick, and the air shimmered. And ever since, all of Japan has been cut off from the world by a ring of misfortune, much like the Dragon Triangle; screwing with radio transmissions, missing aircraft and watercraft incidents, and hokey tales. Not so hokey anymore. But you can only get out of Japan, not back in. Creepy thing, that. And the people… changed. They got animal characteristics, and those who didn’t were in constant stress, becoming more and more reclusive. The animals changed, too. They gained human speech, if only.
Well, that’s what the people who survived said. I was born that year. Anyway, back to the story.
“I have been. But the suckers down at the marketplace keep leaving their wares out where smart people like me could easily get it. One’d think that they would learn their lesson by now. So exercise isn’t really needed.”
Our Hero snorted. “That excuse has been overused. Aaaanyway, did my little warrior find the kittens?” He puffed out his chest, “Of course. Over by the Albatross, in a crate that previously contained apple, next to the smokehouse. Their mother is (hopefully) still with them, nursing them and grooming them, if not sleeping. I placed a spell so that they shall be protected.”
A seagull screeched overhead.
The kitten protested, noticing that it was not being held.
Our Hero picked up the kitten up again, bouncing it, and gave him a sideways glance. “Which one?” He rolled his eyes, and, inhaling, recited the spell, “Kudasai torakku, sanshoushite, shiirudo, Amaterasu.” (A tracking and protection spell. Level 2) Kaleb’s eyebrows elevated into his hair. “Wow, Amaterasu-level. Where did you dig that up? Black Market?” Hizoku’s pupils nearly went invisible, they slitted so fast. “What makes you think that, Karebu-sama?” Hizoku’s voice was gruff and guttural. Kaleb probably knew that he was going too far, but he kept going, “Oh, it’s just that that’s a pretty high level spell, and you can’t just buy scrolls like that these days. Either you have to go out and find one, or–” Hizoku’s mood went from mildly annoyed to furious within seconds. He changed into a Komainu, or what is known in japanese legend as the guardian dogs of heaven; he hunched over, open mouthed, flames coming off his body and eyes turning scarlet as thick hair erupted from his neck. His ears went 2-D against his head, his hackles and tail inflated, and his lips curled back in a snarl. “Of course not!” He roared. Kaleb jumped, and started backing up, with his free hand up, and clutching the scared the kitten.
“Meee!”
As he ranted the air started to ripple around him like heatwaves on pavement, “Sure, my habits of stealing items from the unsuspecting fool would lead to suspicion that I would do so, but I do not,” he whirled around to face Our Hero, a defiant clawed finger raised to him and a mysterious wind billowing from him, “purchase from the Black Market!!” It was here that he started speaking Japanese, still in tempo with his anger and the ripples started to come off in more of a frenzy, “They defile graves, scam, kill, and plunder to get what they want! Scum! Taking what is rightfully the deceased!”
“Mreeeeew!”
His furious gaze locked on the kitten, “And get that kitten to shut up!” The kitten immediately buried its head against his chest. He continued to rant, space distorting around him as the waves got thicker and thicker. He probably knew that he was babbling, but he continued screaming, “It all comes down to stereotypes! They rule everywhere! African-Americans are considered stupid and rude in North America! Untrue! Russian women are thought to be all mail or-” It was now Kaleb’s turn to speak Japanese, holding him by the shoulders and looking him straight in the eyes, “You’ve been talking with foreigners again, huh? Now, I’m sorry I brought it this far. But seriously, where did you find it?”
His hackles fell, but he was still shaking from his outbursts. He shifted back into his original form and, in English, he said weakly, “White Market.” Our Hero looked at him curiously, “Ah. Any proble-?” “Yes. Taka-metsuki.The kittens are this way,” the way Hizoku changed subject seemed like he was hiding something. Well, to Kaleb, anyway. He changed into an albatross and took off at a hustled speed before anymore questions could be asked. When he was out of sight, the kitten looked up and said in a voice fit for a three-year-old, “He was gwumpy.” “Yup.”
He took a deep breath, filling his body with every bit of spare energy he had, jumped, glided to the top of a stall, jumped again, hit the ground rolling, and took off followed by the angry protests from the vendor.
