Ichi - Beautiful

>“Dahdeh, wha’ beautifuw?”
>You look down: Ichi is currently onto your lap, a front hoof slowly caressing one of the front paws of his “fluffy daddy”, the teddy bear that is sitting beside you on the sofa. You stop petting the fluffy for a second, before asking: “What’s beautiful, Ichi?”.
>“Yes. Wha’ beatifuw, dahdeh? Ichi no know…”, he looks pensive, maybe a little sad, his little forehead scrunched.
>Oh, he wants to know what the word “beautiful” means, apparently. That surprises you: you know fluffies are innately curious creatures, but one that is apparently interested in semantics? That’s uncommon!
>But, um… How can you explain the meaning of beauty to your blind fluffy without using visual imagery?
>“Well, err… Beautiful means that… Let’s see…”. You desperately try and think of something to say, while Ichi lies on your legs, his ears perked up and his front legs trying to hug the fluffy daddy’s head. “It’s… kinda difficult for daddy to explain it, Ichi…”.
The pony sits on his haunches, stretching his forehooves in the general direction of your chest. “Huggies can hewp dahdeh?”, he asks.
>You smile, scratching Ichi behind his ears. He coos gratefully in response. “I don’t think they will, but you know I never turn down a hug, buddy”, you tell him, before holding him in your arms.
>After a while he lifts his head, and you look straight in his bizarre, blind grey eyes. “Hug fwuffy dahdeh too, pwease”, he asks you, before stroking his cheek against yours and making a delighted sound that makes you think of a cat purring.
>“Um, okay”. He probably thinks that the teddy bear could become jealous because you’re not giving it attention; you pick the plush up and gently press his belly.
>“Ichi’s hugs are the best hugs ever”
>The fluffy pony giggles. “Siwwy fwuffy dahdeh, Ichi no gif huggies! Dahdeh gif!”.
>Meanwhile, you’re looking at the teddy bear and thinking. Yeah, maybe that’s how you can do it. “Ichi, do you like the smell of your fluffy daddy?”, you ask your pet.
>He readily nods. “Ichi wuv fwuffy dahdeh! Fwuffy dahdeh smeww pwetty!”.
>“And what about his fluff? It’s soft, isn’t it?”.
>“Fwuffy dahdeh fwuff weawwy softies! Weawwy pwetty!”
>“And you like his voice too, right?”.
>“Ichi wike dahdeh voice! Make saddies go ‘way!”.
>You pet Ichi’s head fluff. “And that’s what beautiful means, Ichi: something that smells good, feels good and sounds good. Do you understand now?”. You look at him, expecting to see an understanding smile on his little light blue muzzle; instead, you’re greeted by a sulking, depressed face that looks frighteningly similar to the one Ichi had when he was all alone in a cage at the fluffy shelter.
>“I-Ichi no beautifuw den. Odda fwuffies wight”.
>You look down at him: he’s dangerously close to tears; he has already started sniffling. “You mean the fluffies at the shelter? Don’t mind them, those are bad fluffies! That’s why they don’t have a mommy or a daddy”.
>Even after you used the B word, he doesn’t seem convinced at all: “Ichi no feew gud. Ichi no beautiful den”. He starts shaking his posterior, and for some seconds you find the whole thing funny, but then you realize Ichi is trying to bring attention to his mangled tail. “Ichi taiw no beautifuw… No wong, no fwuffy wike otha pone haf. Ichi taiw no feel gud, den Ichi no feel gud”.
>After that, nothing seems able to divert the blind fluffy’s attention from the problem: not the fluffy daddy, not the promise of baby carrots – his favourite food – not belly rubs nor tickles. You know fluffies have notoriously bad memory, but apparently when they settle their mind on something they can be awfully stubborn.
>You sigh, looking at the little animal lying on his blanket, a miserable expression on his face. Time to call a specialist on the matter.

>When you open your front door, Raleigh is looking at you with a little, cheerful smile on her face. She’s wearing her hair in a ponytail that looks very good on her, and her light blue shirt deliciously frames her breasts…
>God, her tits are magnetic.
>“Um, Frank? I’m up here”. There’s an amused glint behind her glasses.
>“Uh, um… s-sorry…”. You do your best to hide your embarrassment. Your best is unfortunately not enough.
>She shrugs. “Don’t worry. That’s the same thing my girlfriend always do”.
>You stare at her in disbelief. “Oh… I-I didn’t…”.
>Raleigh’s smile widens. “Just kidding. So… How’s Ichi?”.
>“Well, he’s the reason I called you, actually…”.
>All of a sudden, she seems preoccupied. “Something’s wrong with him? Is he hurt?”.
>You shake your head. “No… Well, not from a physical standpoint”. You motion to let her in. “I think you should come and see by yourself”.
>Ichi is in the playpen, lying sideways on his nest of blanket; every few seconds he sighs, a liquid, depressed, uncanningly human sound. While you’re looking at him, he gets up and mechanically walks to the litterbox, where he empties his bowel. He then walks back to the bed, this time resting his head against the belly of the fluffy daddy, still sighing.
>“He’s been like this since yesterday”, you explain to Raleigh, low enough so that Ichi can’t hear. “He suddenly came up with the word ‘beautiful’, he wanted to know what that meant, and when I explained it to him, he became depressed”.
>The girl’s expression darkens. “I see…”, she mutters. “As I told you when you adopted him, the other fluffies at the shelter bullied him. I don’t think they did it maliciously, it was more like they unconsciously knew a disabled fluffy would’ve been a liability to the herd and so they tried to shun him away… Or maybe it’s something the scientists that created them inserted in their DNA or something, I don’t know. But they kicked him, didn’t let him sleep in the fluffpile… And most of the time, they blew him raspberries and called him names”. She stops for a second to clear her throat. “Well, as far as fluffies can call each other names, obviously; they usually threw some “meanie”, or “stupit” to him… but the majority of them called him “not beautifuw”, don’t know why”.
>You stare at Ichi. He looks like he’s going to cry soon. “I think it’s because of his tail. He… he told me his tail doesn’t feel beautiful”.
>She nods. “Makes sense… For fluffies, their fluff is much like a status symbol, because it’s one of the very few things they have. A pony with a dirty, unkept or smelly fluff is usually considered a bad fluffy”.
>“So… What can I do for him? I can’t stand seeing him so sad”.
>Raleigh’s only answer is to go and pick Ichi up. “Hey, Ichi, do you remember me?”, she asks him, petting his back fluff.
>The pony’s face goes from being depression to surprise in the span of a second. “Ichi know voice… Dat nice hooman wady fwom fwuffy shewtew…”, he mutters.
>Raleigh gives a hearty laugh, and you feel something squirming in your chest. “That’s right!”, she exclaims, scratching the fluffy behind the ears. “You’re really smart”.
>Ichi starts bawling. “Nuu-huu-huu… Ichi no wan go back to shewtew… D-dahdeh no wuv Ichi no mo’?”.
>You immediately pick the fluffy up and give him a long, tender hug. “No, Ichi, no… You’re not going back to the shelter… I called Raleigh because I want her to help you”.
>Even if he’s still sniffling and tears are matting his face fluff, his ears perk: he seems interested and confused. “Hewp… Ichi? Why hewp?”.
>She scratches him behind his ears. “To make you feel beautiful, obviously!”.
>“F-feew… beautifuw?”, Ichi repeats, his mouth agape. “Ichi be beautifuw?”.
>“Leave it to me and your daddy!”, Raleigh cheerfully replies.

>“Sooo… any ideas?” You and Raleigh are sitting on your sofa, trying to come up with anything that could help you convincing Ichi that he’s “beautiful”. And speaking of your fluffy, he’s currently sleeping onto your lap; he still looks a little sad, and sometimes he whimpers and gives a feeble kick or two in his sleep, but he seems more serene that just half an hour ago.
>Raleigh methodically scratches her forehead. “Um… well, the problem here seems to be his tail: even if he can’t see it, he knows it’s not how it should be. And I think that was the main reason the other fluffies bullied him: I mean, Ichi doesn’t know he’s blind, ‘cause his eyes never actually worked, and the ponies at the shelter probably thought he was ignoring them because he was being mean or whatever. But a missing tail? That’s a completely different story”.
>You shrug. “You did tell me that his tail was partially amputated at birth, right?”.
>Raleigh nods, absent-mindedly scratching Ichi’s belly. He curls into a fluffy ball and starts cooing in his sleep. “We usually shave the dams’ backside in order to avoid foals to be tangled in the fluff, but Ichi’s mother was brought to us when she was literally minutes from giving birth. She was already complaining about the ‘big poopies’ feeling, and we just helped her delivering her litter. Ichi’s brother and sister were completely fine. Two pegasi, just like their mother. Ichi was the last one, and he was stuck in his mother’s fluff; he was really vocal and active for a baby, he kept chirping and squirming while we were trying to free him… Until we heard the littlest crack sound and he started crying in pain”. She drinks from a glass of water you brought to her. The sight of her lips pressed against the glass mesmerizes you for a second. “At first we thought one of his legs was broken, but after we finally entangled him we realized it was his tail. It would’ve never healed properly, so we just amputated it. Luckily, his mother loved him as much as she loved her other babies, but then…”. She lowers her eyes towards Ichi, a bitter expression on her face. “After he and his brothers were weaned, a woman came to the shelter and decided to adopt the mare and her foals… except Ichi. She said that her daughters wanted a fluffy family but she couldn’t bother taking care of a ‘difficult’ pet like a blind one. And so, well… Ichi ended up getting separated by the only fluffies that ever loved him”. Raleigh gives you a beaming smile that makes your insides  jig around. “I’m so glad you decided to adopt him, Frank. This little guy has so much love to give…”. She’s still scratching Ichi’s belly, and the fluffy’s now making his sorta-purring sounds. He seems contented, at least now that he’s still sleeping.
>You are not as happy, though. “Yeah, but apparently I’m not good enough to convince my pet he’s not ugly”.
>Raleigh pats your shoulder amicably. “Oh, come on, cheer up! As I told you at the shelter, fluffies can be really tricky to manage. We just have to find a solution to the problem, that’s all”.
>You give her a small, timid smile. “Thanks, Raleigh. To think you’re wasting your free time helping me with this…”.
>“I’m not wasting any time. I’m doing it because I want to do it”, she simply replies. She then gently caresses Ichi’s tail nub, frowning. “Let’s see… It would be easier if it was his mane, we could’ve made him a fluffy toupee. We actually had to create last December, there was this unicorn colt that…”.
>The sound of her cellphone interrupts the story. “Hello? Oh, hi. Mh-mh. I see… Okay, give me ten minutes. Bye!”. After she hang up, Raleigh looks at you sheepishly. “’twas my little sis. My mom and dad are busy and she needs someone to take her to her ballet lesson. Sorry…”.
>“O-o-oh, n-no problem…”, you stutter back, like a fourteen years old that has just been dumped by the cute girl of his math class.
>Raleigh kisses you on the cheek. “You’re the sweetest guy I’ve ever met, Frank. I’ll call you if I get any idea on how to help Ichi, okay?”.
>After she’s gone away, you dumbfoundedly sit on your sofa for a couple of minutes, petting the fluff of the still snoring Ichi. “Have I… been friend-zoned?”, you ask to no one in particular.
>As if he was waiting for you to speak, Ichi opens his blind eyes, yawning. “Ichi wuv sweep wif dahdeh… Dahdeh wawm…”, he informs you while hugging your leg; he’s still half asleep, so his speech slurry. He then proceeds to stretch himself, just like a round, pudgy kitten; the sight is really too adorable for words, even the little grunt noises he makes when he stretches his limbs are strangely cute. “Whev’ nice wady fwom shewtew?”, he asks you after a while.
>“She had to go. But she told me to say hello to you”.
>“Oh”, Ichi replies, surprised. “Hewwo, nice wady!”, he exclaims, and then perks his ears, like he’s waiting for an answer. “Mh, nice wady no can heaw Ichi?”.
>You manage not to giggle. “Yeah, she’s too far away now”. You put the pony in his playpen, despite his protests. “Daddy has to do something important now. Why don’t you play with the fluffy daddy while I think about making you feel beautiful?”.
>The magic word seems to soothe him. “Otay dahdeh, Ichi wait an’ pway wif fwuffy dahdeh”. He carefully searches around the playpen, and – after a couple of “oopsie”, manages to find the teddy bear near the blocks.
>“Ichi smells really pretty today”, the plush dutifully repeats when hugged.
>While your fluffy thanks him and hugs him again, eliciting another random pre-programmed answer, you start pondering on how you can solve Ichi’s problem: it’s true that you can’t give him back his own tail, but what Raleigh said about a fluffy toupee is still bugging you. How could you create something similar?
>You hear Ichi babbling softly: he’s playing with his ball now, pounding it with his front hooves. It reminds you of a cat playing with a…
>You instantly got up from the sofa. “Ichi, daddy has to go buying something, okay? The fluffy daddy will take care of you”.
>“Otay, dahdeh. Ichi wuv dahdeh…” , he replies with a melancholic smile on his muzzle.
>You dart towards the door, hoping you’ll find a place that sells what you need before the shops close.
>Also, if you’re right, solving the problem will cost you way less than the fluffy daddy.

>“I can’t believe it was that simple”. Raleigh sounds impressed while she looks at Ichi – finally happy once again – cuddling with his favourite plush and laughing.
>“Yes… And it’s all thanks to you”, you reply, grinning. “I remembered you talking about that mane toupee, so…”.
>“Nah, don’t mention it. I’m just glad I could help, albeit indirectly”. She then picks the blind fluffy up and starts scratching his belly. “Hey, little guy, how’s it going?”.
> Ichi points his forelegs straight up. “Nice wady fwom shewtew! Gif huggies, pwease?”.
>She complies, and you can’t help feeling a little jealous: after all, your fluffy is resting his head on Raleigh’s boobs. “You know, Ichi, you can call me by my name… ‘Nice lady from the shelter’ is too long. Just call me Raleigh, okay?”.
>“U-uh…”. You can tell Ichi’s embarrassed, even scared: usually fluffies don’t call humans by their names for whatever reason. “Ichi caww nice wady fwom shewtew Wawey, otay?”.
>“That’s better”, she tells him before giving him to you. “Oh, and your new tail is really beautiful!”, she adds, before smiling at you, her teeth white and bright like tiny beacons.
>The pony is overjoyed. “Ichi know! Ichi taiw feew happeh an’ beautifuw now!”. He shakes his backside, making the colorful strands of wool that constitute his newly-made appendage dancing in mid-air. You just had to tie the different threads to a small leather strap and tighten it at the base of Ichi’s stub and… voila! A brand new tail.
>When you had him wear it for the first time, last evening, the fluffy couldn’t believe what happened to him: he just ran in circle for ten minutes straight, trying to catch the strange, new part of him with his mouth. And when he finally fell on his back, spent and panting, you carefully placed the end of the wool tail between his front hooves, and watched him squeal in pure joy, snuggling it, smelling it, and telling it that it was beautiful and that he loved it.
>You then explained him that his new tail was a very special one, one that he could wear anytime he wanted to feel beautiful. And he thanked you in the only way a fluffy pony can: he hugged you tightly, his head resting against your chest so he could feel your heartbeat. “Dahdeh gif Ichi taiw back…”, he murmured, tears of happiness matting his fluff. “Ichi no can gif thankies ‘nuff…”.
>Ichi giggles in your hands: Raleigh is tickling one of his back legs. He squirms, finally managing to touch your wrist with his front hoof to attract your attention. “Ichi beautifuw now, dahdeh?”, he asks, his voice trembling in expectation.
>You touch his nose with a finger, giving him a light, playful bop. “Don’t be silly”, you reply, smiling. “You always have been”.