Chapter Text
Cannibal Fox Girl Taylor
Summary : Reverse Isekai, Taylor returns from the harsh northern wastes where she had been reborn as a kitsune in a primitive, insular, cannibalistic tribe. After centuries, she had just gained her fourth tail, and she had long since forgotten Brockton Bay, when she was dragged back home. Naturally, Cannibal Fox Girl Taylor does as Cannibal Fox Girl Taylors do. This will eventually be a slice of life S9 fic featuring AU elements and a nurture!Siberian.
Original world & inspiration from: https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/29073/fox-girl-reincarnation
I woke up in a cramped and smelly room, cluttered with cloth and carved wood and strange artifacts.
My nose felt strange. My ears laid flat against the top of my skull. Where was I? Where was mother? The rest of the tribe? We had been preparing for the grandest feast yet, to celebrate my fourth tail, and then I was... here? The place felt familiar. Strange. It reminded me of the nightmares from centuries ago. Eventually those awful dreams had faded though.
But being here... was this a dream then? It seemed so real.
A human man entered the room. He was older, balding, and wore oversized glasses. He was much taller than me, but his limbs were wiry and weak. No mere human could challenge me. Perhaps a champion, if they bore their enchantments. Or a particularly able mage. But this man was no such champion, and he did not stink of magic.
He spoke. The language, while oddly familiar, failed to match either the tongue of my tribe, or human common. It sounded as though he said the word, "Taylor."
Strange.
Perhaps he was casting a spell? Or sounding an alarm?
Humans were not to be trusted. Vile creatures. Well, their minds were vile. The rest of them were tasty. My stomach rumbled with hunger. This close to prey–well, there was that one thing humans were good for.
"Taylor?" the man asked again. His voice was a bit deeper, and I could hear a hint of fear.
He was right to fear. I was a predator in the den of prey. My mother would draw it out, seeking pleasure in the pain of others. I tended towards mercy.
"It's me–Danny! Dear god, what happened? Your face–tails? Did you–you Triggered?" The man continued spewing nonsense. I felt a stirring in my chest. Some sort of spell. I needed to act, before he finished casting his trap.
I moved. One second, I had stood confused in the room, the next, my hands had pierced through the man's throat. Blood gurgled from his mouth as he sputtered, but no further words came forth. His glasses fell askew, and slowly his eyes dimmed. The danger had been abated. I listened carefully for a minute, waiting for an alarm. In the distance, I heard rumbles and shrieks and metallic commotions, along with voices in the distance and what could be considered music, though it sounded awful.
Where was I? This was not the forest of the north. The air smelled vile.
The man's corpse slid from my fingers.
My stomach rumbled. It was no snow elf, but it would be dishonorable to allow the man's body to be wasted. And it was not as though I was a squeamish infant any longer. Not like my first decade. I had long outgrown the horror of watching my family devour.
I sat on the floor and ate the man's heart. It tasted vaguely fishy, with an acrid undertone which was altogether unpleasant. Already I missed the purity of home. But the needs must, I hungered, and it would be dishonorable to waste.
I began gorging myself on flesh, teeth shearing through flesh and bone with ease, my jaws opening supernaturally wide, and my throat serving as a bottomless pit. The true magic of my tribe, our ability to consume, devour, and absorb magic from our prey and into our bodies. The first time I had eaten more than my body weight had been confusing. Now, it was natural. No part of the man went to waste. Within moments, all that remained was a puddle of blood and a few stained pieces of fabric.
I examined the room I had found myself in. I did not understand what force had brought me here. But it could not have been benign. I needed to gain distance, find a safe abode to lair in, and perhaps find additional sustenance. The low magic content of my last meal had left me wanting.
I followed my nose to the scents of the outside, where the acrid pollution grew worse. The door allowed air to infiltrate in through the gaps in the threshold, though it remained of a far higher quality than any door I had ever seen. I marveled at the sturdy flat construction. Then at the locking mechanism. I was unsure of how to use it. After playing with the latching mechanism for a turn, I grew impatient and pushed the door open, snapping it off its hinges. I stalked out into the night.
***
I kept to all fours, with my four tails counterbalancing me. Northern kitsunes had an odd physiology, compared to humans. Our legs were shorter, bent just a little strangely, and our feet had more arch to them, allowing our toes to act as claws. In fact, they could be claws, when necessary. We were very fast runners, able to cross the snow blessed wastes quickly.
But here, in this polluted place of nightmares, I may have missed the snow, but my speed must have been unrivaled. The squat abodes and strange huts passed quickly as I sped over the land. I needed to eat, and I needed a lair, until I figured out where I was.
As I crossed another yard, I smelled something incredible. Smokey and succulent and fat. I stopped and went back, chasing the scent through the air. It brought me to another strange hut. I heard laughter and voices from inside.
This would do.
I leapt up onto the strange gritty roof and peaked in through a window. It was closed, despite the sweltering heat of the lowlands. I pushed against the glass. And it was glass. How long had it been since I had seen this? How had I even known the word? Odd. Inconsequential. The window refused to open. I drove my palm into the frame, breaking the glass and wood alike. I would need to act fast. The voices down below had stopped.
They knew I was here.
The smell of their meat filled my nostrils. I needed to devour them before they knew I was there.
I bounded through the room I had found myself in to the door, never minding the color laden strips of paper adorning the walls, I think called posters. I smashed through the thin and shoddy door–it exploded into dust. I found the stairs and bounded down on all four.
The prey saw me. It was a man. Fatter than the first I had consumed. I leapt through the air before he could do more than grunt, shoving fingers through his eyes and into his skull. He went down in a twitching heap.
A woman screamed. She was standing up from a table, pointing with one hand and covering her mouth with another. Was she another mage? I could not take that chance. I jumped forward, onto the table holding strange dishes, past several youths who were falling away from the table, and onto the woman. My teeth clamped down on her throat and tore, shooting a mouthful of delicious blood across my tongue. I swallowed and released the woman, allowing her to take several steps, clutching her throat in vain, before she tumbled against a wall and slid to the ground.
I licked my lips, tasting the blood and flesh. I wanted more.
"Mommy?" one of the youths said. the other, a boy I think, screamed.
I felt a seconds worth of hesitation. I berated myself. Why would I feel hesitation now? I had slain and devoured countless cubs across the centuries, I had hunted the youths of the encroaching snow elves, and I had personally wrought vengeance on a nation of human-kin. So why now, would I feel this? I thought I had left these feelings behind with my youth.
I needed to prove to myself that I was still me, still a predator.
I jumped forward towards the screaming boy. Fingers pinched through the back of his neck, severing his spine. I turned towards the slightly younger female.
"...no, please..." she said.
I understood that. It was not Human Common. But I still understood it. I paused, seeking my own fogged over memories and stretched my mouth and tongue in long forgotten ways.
"wh-where i-is this?" I asked her, approaching the girl and kneeling down beside her.
It was not arrogance to recognize my superiority. This girl would be unable to pierce my flesh, even if she had a suitable weapon. I was safe in drawing this out, if only to discover what I could.
"Home. Brockton Bay," the girl said. "You killed them..." she added in a whisper.
"Brock-ckton B-bay," I repeated. It was a familiar name. But not since I had been reborn as a northern kitsune. I had left this place behind, my memories of it serving no purpose. Was I truly back here? Or was this a trick?
"Are you a super-villain?" the girl asked. Tears streamed down her face.
I cocked my head, just barely remembering what those were. The girl picked up on my confusion.
"A cape?" she added.
I glanced down at myself. No, I was still unclothed. Unless she meant something else. Another memory tickled the back of my mind. Capes, humans with powers. Such as mages or champions. I would need to take care of them. But I suppose I was something akin to a cape of this world.
If I was in Brockton Bay, then I needed another piece of information. "Wh-what isht date?" I asked, improving my diction as I practiced with the language.
"The d-date?" the girl asked. I nodded, smiling encouragingly. She flinched when she saw my teeth. My teeth were not like hers. I had two rows, and all my teeth were all sharp. "January two thousand eleven," she finished.
When had I left this world? I thought, I had assumed at the time, in death. But perhaps it had been a cape effect? I thought it was the first day back, after winter break... It had been the same year though. Then the man I had first devoured? Possibly my then father, though I had only known him for little more than a decade, and he had hardly endeared me when I had been human, let alone now, as I had long since left humanity for a better tribe.
"You'll let me go?" the girl asked, stuttering.
I nodded and smiled. She never saw my mercy delivered as my fingers sank through the back of her skull.
I feasted well. In remembrance of my tribe, I piled the four bodies onto the table, clearing off the gross vegetable dishes and strange sauces. Even their meat had been ruined by burning. Truly, these people were savages and altogether strange. Once the bodies were established, I took a moment of silence, to remember my tribe, and my mother the chief. And then, I dived in. The man tasted stringy, the female fattier but still mixed with odd chemicals and scents, and the children tasted soft and succulent, without so many contaminants lacing their systems. They contained much more energy within their bodies than their parents. I would remember this fact in future hunts.
Once I finished, leaving not a single scrap of gristle or flesh, I found a corner to curl up in. Feasts always left me in need of a nap.
Unfortunately, that nap was soon ruined when blue and red lights flashed in through the front window drapes, and heavy footsteps walked up the front steps.