Though I knew Mom was already dead and the figure in front of me was nothing but a beast assuming her form, I couldn't help but be carried away when I saw her cooking in the kitchen. There was no mistaking it; it was a perfect copy of Mom—her smell, her hair, her smile, her mannerisms, the sound of her voice. Pororo tried to stop me, frantically waving his plush arms and shouting, "Wait! That's not your mother! It's a Kumiho, a nine-tailed fox that can transform into dead people. It can perfectly mimic their personality and even their memories from when they were alive!"
But I rushed toward her and hugged her the moment I saw her in the kitchen. Pororo kept reminding me, "It's not your mom! It's a beast!"
"I know…" I said, cutting him off, "just…just give me time to play along with the beast. It's not harmful, and I can sense it's only copying Mom because it feels my longing for her and is feeding off that."
Pororo sighed, crossing his little arms. "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you."
I spent the day with the Kumiho, which looked and acted exactly like Mom through and through. We ate her home-cooked meals, which tasted just like Mom used to make them. It felt surreal, like stepping back in time.
As we sat around the kitchen table, I couldn't help but feel a mix of joy and sadness. "Mom, can you tell me the story about how you and Dad met again?" I asked, trying to prolong the illusion.
Mom smiled warmly. "Of course, dear. It was a sunny day in spring, and your father was late for a meeting..."
Pororo sat on the counter, munching on a piece of toast, eyeing the scene skeptically. "This is weird," he muttered. "Really weird."
I shot him a look. "Can't you just let me enjoy this?"
Pororo shrugged. "Sure, sure. Just remember, it's not real."
But in that moment, it felt real. Too freakin' real.
Later, as the sun began to set, Mom (or the Kumiho) and I sat in the living room, watching old home movies. It was bittersweet, the sound of Mom's laughter filling the room. It was like she had never left.
"Mom," I said softly, "I miss you so much. It's been so hard without you."
Mom turned to me, her eyes full of love and understanding. "I know, sweetheart. But you've been so strong. I'm proud of you."
Pororo hopped onto the armrest of the sofa, his jewel dimming slightly. "We need to seal it soon, you know."
I looked at him, tears welling up in my eyes. "I know. I just... I'm not ready to say goodbye again."
"You're never ready for goodbyes," Pororo said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "But it's necessary."
I nodded, my heart heavy. "Mom, I have to tell you something."
Mom tilted her head, her smile never fading. "What is it, dear?"
"You're not really my mom," I said, my voice breaking. "You're a Kumiho, a beast that's been feeding off my longing."
She reached out and took my hand, her touch warm and familiar. "I know, but I'm here now. And for a little while, we can pretend."
I hugged her tightly, my tears soaking her shirt. "I wish you could stay."
"So do I," she whispered. "But you have to let me go."
I stood up, grabbing the magical staff which I transformed Pororo on and the Eldritch Bestiary, which hovered in front of me, glowing softly. "I just have to say the spell, and it will be over."
Pororo cheered me on. "You can do this. We have to do this."
The Kumiho, still in Mom's form, smiled at me. "Be brave, my boy. I will always love you."
I took a deep breath, tears streaming down my face. "Goodbye, Mom. I love you."
I hesitated; the words caught in my throat. But then I started chanting the incantation. "By moon's light and shadows deep, Awaken beasts from ancient sleep. Return to your eternal keep."
The Kumiho didn't try to escape. Instead, it smiled and transformed into its true form—a beautiful, nine-tailed white fox. It looked at me one last time, its eyes full of understanding and sorrow, before being captured and sealed back into the book.
The light faded, and the house returned to its normal state. The comforting smell of Mom's cooking was gone, replaced by the cold, sterile air of reality.
I collapsed onto the sofa, the weight of the day hitting me all at once. "That was... incredibly hard."
Pororo hopped up beside me, patting my hand with his little plush paw. "You did well. Better than I expected."
"Thanks, I guess," I said, wiping my eyes. "It felt so real."
"That's the Kumiho's power," Pororo said, nodding. "It preys on your deepest desires and memories."
I looked at the Eldritch Bestiary, now with a new entry of the Kumiho:
A mythical nine-tailed fox spirit known for its ability to transform into a deceased loved one, perfectly mimicking their personality, mannerisms, and memories. Often, the Kumiho assumes the form of someone close to its target, providing a false sense of comfort and familiarity. It uses this guise to feed on the emotions of those it encounters, drawing strength from their sorrow.
Type: Ghost
Threat Level: Fairy
Difficulty Level to Catch: Easy
Skill: The Kumiho can transform into a deceased loved one, perfectly mimicking their personality, mannerisms, and memories. This ability allows it to feed on the emotions of those it encounters, especially grief and longing.
Weakness: Fire Type Beasts
"So, what now?" Pororo gave me a small smile. "Now, we move on. There are more beasts to capture, and we have to stay vigilant."
"Right." I nodded.
We sat in silence for a moment, the TV playing softly in the background.
"You know," Pororo said, breaking the silence, "for a rookie Beast Seeker, you did pretty well today."
I smiled, appreciating his attempt at a compliment. "Thanks, Pororo. That means a lot coming from you."
"Don't get used to it," he replied with a smirk. "Now, let's see the little people inside the weird box."
As we settled back into our usual banter, I felt a sense of closure. It wasn't perfect, and the pain of losing Mom was still there, but I knew I had to keep going.