TBML 13

The deeper he went into the mountains, the more human clothing—so different from fur—felt like a burden to the black tiger. The fabric tore on every stray branch, and whenever he tried to move swiftly, the garments flapped about clumsily, making unnecessary noise.

Life in the forest was meant to be quiet, lived without drawing attention. Even a tiger, hailed as the lord of the sacred mountain, could not command all that lived within it.

The black tiger gave a hard tug at the hem of his jade-colored dopo, which had snagged on a pointed branch. A loud rip echoed through the quiet forest, and the tiger’s brow furrowed deeply.

“Troublesome thing,” he muttered, swatting irritably at the fabric hanging from his body. From his perch atop the tiger’s head, Ja-oh let out a sharp caw, like a mother scolding a stubborn seven-year-old.

— Humans wear clothes! They all wear clothes! You have to wear clothes!

“I heard you the first time, so say it only once. You’re noisy, stupid crow.”

— You’re the stupid one!

Ja-oh’s caw rang not only in his ears but also in his mind. Irritated, the black tiger flailed the hand that held the wooden tag. But Ja-oh, no stranger to such outbursts, expertly braced himself in the tiger’s hair, ducking his head nimbly to avoid the swipe. The blue tassel hanging from the wooden tag, however, whipped Ja-oh’s body like a lash.

The black tiger stared down at the tag, which had turned into an unwitting weapon in his grasp. He wasn’t human, nor did he have any real intention of pretending to be one. But Ja-oh had raised such a fuss about keeping it that he’d ended up carrying it along without even realizing.

“So I really have to keep this with me?”

— Yes!

The black tiger lifted the tag, holding it near his face as if to sniff it. It reeked of human musk, but the soft blue tassel brushed his nose and cheekbones with a pleasant, fluttering touch that he found oddly satisfying.

To be honest, part of why he still held onto it wasn’t just Ja-oh’s pestering—it was the texture of the tassel. It felt nice in his hand. When he brought it close to his face and let it brush against his skin, Ja-oh flapped his wings wildly, misunderstanding the gesture.

— Idiot! Don’t eat it!

“Then what is it, exactly?”

But when he asked what the tag was used for, Ja-oh clammed up again. His beak clicked against itself, but it didn’t seem trustworthy. He always acted like he knew everything, poking his beak into every little thing, but whenever the tiger asked about this, he always gave the same vague answer. Never anything useful. Clearly, he didn’t know either.

He likes to pretend he’s so clever, but in truth, he’s just guessing. Narrowing his eyes with suspicion, the black tiger glared at the crow. In the deepening shade of the forest, his pitch-black eyes gleamed like yellow amber.

— A-anyway, you have to keep it with you!

Under that doubtful gaze, Ja-oh cawed a few more times before flapping his wings like a startled falcon and taking off into the air.

Once Ja-oh disappeared, the black tiger shook the tag and its blue tassel around with extra flair and began pushing through the underbrush. His feet prickled with pain every time he stepped on a stick or stone—nothing like the ease of prowling on four legs. He considered returning to his tiger form and bounding over the mountain in one great leap, but then shook his head forcefully.

He was oddly curious whether the small human would still run from him if he saw him like this—standing on two legs, in a human’s shape. It made sense that humans would flee at the sight of a tiger, but even after taking their form, they still ran. That, he couldn’t understand.

Every human he came across had thrown down their bundles and run. Now, he was genuinely wondering: if the small human—Yeon-ah—saw him like this, would he still scream and flee, dropping his fire-spitting stick?

“Would that small human, Yeon-ah, run if he saw me now?”

Surprisingly, the usually nosy Ja-oh—who always flew in uninvited to meddle—had nothing to say to that question. The black tiger tilted his head back, trying to spot Ja-oh weaving between the still-young branches, and used both hands to part the black hair that kept falling in his face. He twitched his nose.

The air smelled warm, thick with the scent of earth. The frost lord had clearly lost his grip, and the flame emperor was arriving to take his place. Clouds heavy with rain were gathering to turn the season. The black tiger sniffed the wind, full of moisture, and urgently called out.

“We need to go. It’s going to rain soon.”

But instead of heading for his cave, the black tiger changed direction. Noticing this, Ja-oh whined from above, sensing the shift in his mood. As the tiger picked up his pace without looking back, the foolish crow—who could never leave him behind—quickly flew down and perched once more on his head.

— Whyyyy! I don’t wanna!

“Then you go back.”

— Nooo!

The black tiger’s steps quickened as he pushed through the mountain. Before the rain poured down, he wanted to find the small human. He needed to know—would he run from him again if he saw him now?

The black tiger, who had followed Yeon from the shadows more than once before, had a rough sense of where the man might be wandering by now. Once the rain started, it would be hard to catch the small human’s scent—but more importantly, he knew that Yeon always came down from the mountain early on days when the weather turned bad. That was why the black tiger’s steps had grown urgent.

But the storm clouds, thick and black above, cared nothing for his haste and opened up with heavy rain. It was the first time he had run this far through the mountain on two legs, and doing so while wrapped in layers of heavy fabric, through a forest soaked in rain, would be difficult for anyone—even the great black tiger.

Though his human form was large, the skin on his palms and soles was as soft and tender as a baby’s. If mountain men, whose lives were spent climbing peaks, were told to run the distance he had in this weather, wearing what he wore, they’d accuse him of trying to kill them. As the rain poured harder, the tiger’s steps grew slower.

They say you don’t notice clothes getting soaked in a light rain, but before he knew it, the jade-colored dopo was clinging to his body, drenched. The bloodstains that had once startled passersby were now fading. Still, with each step, fresh blood welled from the soft soles of his feet.

Not far from where the black tiger had once been caught in a tiger net, he sensed a familiar presence. He twitched his nose, but all he could smell was wet earth, the tang of rain, and the scent of soaked greenery. The small human’s scent was nowhere to be found. He stopped and listened, focusing on Yeon’s subtle movements.

As he heard the light footsteps growing closer, the black tiger crouched low to the ground. It was one thing to come all this way to see how the small human would react to him—but now that the moment was near, he felt unexpectedly tense. If the small human screamed and fled, just like the woman had last time, he might… feel a little disappointed.

Ja-oh flapped overhead with a loud caw. The black tiger once again checked his appearance. He held the thing Ja-oh insisted humans must always carry. He was wearing “clothes,” too.

To human eyes, his clothing might have looked thrown together, but in the black tiger’s mind, he was dressed. His tail wasn’t sticking out, and even though the soles of his feet stung, his claws weren’t showing. At least to his own eyes, there was no thick fur to be seen anywhere.

There wasn’t a single trace of a tiger left on him. Whether it was to hide what he truly was from Yeon, or to avoid startling him into fleeing—it was hard to say. But whatever the reason, the black tiger had paid an unusual amount of attention to his appearance.

Still inexperienced in many ways, he had just begun counting the number of fingers and toes he had when, from the brush thick with pale green shoots, Yeon appeared—his white face emerging into view.

In the mountain forest, where a spring drizzle was falling and no people were to be found, Yeon was startled to suddenly come upon a man in such a ragged state. He gasped, drawing in a sharp breath. He didn’t run, but it was obvious to anyone that he’d been frightened. Seeing the reaction, the black tiger unconsciously let his shoulders droop.

He’d hoped—somewhere deep down—that the small human might not be like the others. That he might not be scared of him. If he’d still had a tail, it would’ve been thumping the ground in irritation; if his ears had been visible, they would have flattened straight back.

But still, Yeon hadn’t thrown down all his belongings and fled for his life like the other big humans had.

Though his frame carried an empty carrier, Yeon’s steps were far from light. The carrier weighed nothing, but his mood made it feel heavy. As always, heading into the mountain was no guarantee of a catch, and today he’d come up empty-handed.

A spring rain like this might seem mild, but if you weren’t careful, it would leave you with a bad cold. He should’ve headed back down early, but instead, his steps had taken him higher. If nothing else, he thought he might be able to catch a wood pigeon before leaving.

With the rain falling steadily, Yeon didn’t bother hiding his presence and moved openly through the forest, his footsteps masked by the sound of the rain. Eventually, he made it near the spot where he’d freed the black tiger from the trap not long ago.

Even after making it that deep into the forest, with the rain still falling, he saw nothing. Feeling that it was finally no use, he reluctantly decided to end today’s hunt. His mind had been anxious even on the way up, and with the rain falling harder now, he felt even more pressed to get down.

As he pushed aside a tall patch of undergrowth—one that had somehow grown taller in just a few days—something black and white suddenly emerged.

Startled, Yeon gasped without thinking.

The black was wild, tangled hair. The white was a pale face and body. Though it had shocked him, Yeon’s sharp eyes quickly saw that the thing that startled him was a person. He calmed himself quickly.

At the very least, he took the time to look around and try to figure out why there would be someone crouching alone this deep in the mountains—a place even seasoned hunters rarely ventured into.

“Wh-Who are you? Are you really a person?” he called out, steadying his breath.

With his heart finally starting to settle, Yeon scanned the figure that had sprung up like a mushroom after a night’s rain.

Yes, he was here too, another person—but this was deep in the mountain, far from any paths. The man standing before him didn’t match the place at all. If he’d looked like a mountain hunter or woodsman, Yeon wouldn’t have asked such a strange, almost absurd question.