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slbp-holiday-exchange-blog · 7 years

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Kitten

A Kojuro/MC fic

Fluff/Angst/Supernatural

A holiday gift for @princeanderfels from @quincette

I hope you enjoy this! This is meant to be fluff, but the execution demands a dose of angst that hopefully I have ended in a hopeful note.

She is fighting a losing battle with her illness but she’s not Katakura Kojuro’s precious girl if she’s not resourceful. A Katakura family heirloom and a conversation with Shigezane start an adventure that would probably cost nine lives.

“Weak as a kitten.”

“Best to make her as comfortable as possible.”

Did the doctor think she wouldn’t be able to hear him? She heard everything. And it hurt. The subtle (no, not at all subtle – her mind supplied) suggestion in his words had hurt more than this unnamed malady that had been piercing invisible pins and needles, and viciously twisted them, into her limbs, relentlessly, day in and day out.

There had been brief respites, on warm sunny mornings. Brief periods of painless bliss that fanned the embers of hope inside of her, enough to fight off the next wave of pain.

She closed her eyes. She was so very tired.

“Trust me to get better, as I trust you to come home to me, Milord.”

“I trust you, my precious girl.”

Every time she thought of giving up, she replayed her own parting words to Kojuro, and his to her. He trusted her to keep her promise of fighting to get better. As she was sure he was currently fighting to come back alive from the battlefield to come home to her. She had asked him to trust her, to not giving up hope on her. And he had granted her that. She would not fail him. One does not squander Katakura Kojuro’s trust.

Not without trying, at least.

So, she moved, slowly, swimming through a sea of painful sensations her world had been reduced to. She felt her hand grasping the door and sliding it open, she felt the threshold of the tatami inside and the wood on the verandah outside, warmed by the early spring sun.

Oh, the sun felt so good on her skin. Just a little bit more…

“Doll!”

Oh. No. She’d been caught.

“Shigezane-sama…” she said with an effort.

“What are you doing!? You’ll catch a cold!”

It was not often that the jovial Date cousin sounded upset. He did now. Already she felt one of his hands on her arm, trying to haul her back in, presumably.

“No. No no no no no, please, Shigezane-sama…!” she fought him off.

She felt the hand fall away, and when she opened her eyes, she saw him kneeling next to her, blocking the draft. His face was shaded from the sun but she could vaguely see his frown.

“I-I just… wanted to feel the sun. It’s warm here, Shigezane-sama. You can feel it too, right?” She smiled, even through the pain, the sun did feel good. “Would you help me? Please?”

She heard Shigezane’s sharp breath. “But the doctor–“

“He said to make me as comfortable as possible, did he not?”

Shigezane let out another sharp breath. There had been a pause before she heard him curse softly under his breath, and the next thing she knew she was sitting on the edge of the verandah, comfortably propped on his left shoulder.

“This is the only way I would let you soak up the sun in the open air, got it, doll?”

She sighed. “You’re very kind, Shigezane-sama.”

“Tell that to Kojuro when he murders me for letting you do this.”

She couldn’t help to chuckle. “You’re supposed to be recovering in your bed yourself.”

“Hmh, but it’s such a lovely day to visit my lovely erstwhile neighbour,” he said. “Might cheer her up.”

His back was broad and warm.

“Cheer her up you did…”

She couldn’t see his face, but she could tell that he’s smiling by the slight movement of his shoulder.

They sat together for a while, letting the bush warblers in the budding plum trees fill the silence with their chirps.

“How’s your hand, Shigezane-sama?”

“I think it’s trying to turn into a flipper now,” he said, showing her his bandaged hand. “Do you think I have a chance competing with Bontenmaru for Kojuro’s affection?” He chuckled.

It’s strange how her lips smiled but her eyes stung with unshed tears upon hearing that. She fought the urge to cry.

The bush warblers’ chirp did not manage to drown out the soft sob that escaped her lips.

“Hey,” Shigezane said. “Don’t listen to what the doctor said – I mean, you did hear what he said but I mean, uh, don’t believe the entirety of it, alright? I mean, he said it’s unlikely I will be able to hold sword like I used to with this hand. He said I’d be lucky if my fingers don’t fall off tomorrow, but they will likely be stuck together – disgusting right? But, doll – “

She felt his good hand squeezing hers.

“One way or another, I will keep fighting, you see. I still have my other good hand or god forbid I will train my new flipper to hold a sword if I have to.”

She wasn’t sure if she was crying or laughing at this moment. Or if the edge of her vision was blurry from tears or pain or medicine or all of them combined.

“I am going to be alright,” he continued, “That’s why I think you’ll be alright. Heck, you’re stronger than me. You’re Kojuro’s best student, you know that?”

Like his laughter and his optimism, Shigezane’s conviction was infectious. By the time he shifted her body and propped her to lean on his raised knee so she could see his face, she was smiling again.

“Thank you,” she whispered as he dabbed her tears with his sleeve.

“Want to tell me what that shrivelled old sourplum told you?”

She let out a shaky breath, “That it’s best to make me… comfortable… because I, I am weak as a kitten…”

Shigezane snorted. “That’s all?”

“… like I’m going to die soon, Shigezane-sama,” she looked into his eyes. “Some days, I felt like it too and I am terrified.”

“He doesn’t know that. And he doesn’t know how strong you are. Hell, I just found you clawing the floor to get to the sun. You –“ he squeezed her hand again and this time she squeezed back, “ – are one kitten with helluva sharp claws.”

He grinned and even with the pain, it was impossible for her not to crack one too.

“That’s more like it. Did you know that there was this crazy lord who brought his cat to the battlefield? Outfitted with this special little armour made of coins and stuff?”

She chuckled and shook her head, “No…” The pain felt distant now. The medicine she took in the morning must have taken effect. Her senses felt dulled somewhat and the tears she had shed earlier has made her chest felt lighter and her eyelids heavier.

“It’s true, they have a picture of it in this book, I’m sure Kojuro has one in … –“

She didn’t hear the rest of the story. Still leaning on Shigezane’s raised knee, she let her tired body succumb to sleep.

***

When she came to, she was snugly cocooned inside her room. Her limbs felt numb this time, which was marginally better than the pain, but she knew it wouldn’t last. The numbness would soon splinter into thousands of pins and needles lodged under her skin again. Trying to distract herself, she traced back the day’s event, and her conversation with Shigezane.

She clenched and unclenched her hand, it felt like she was feeling her own skin through a layer of dumpling skin. She replayed his words, his conviction. “Kitten with sharp claws…,” she murmured. There’s nothing she wouldn’t give to be able to transform to one now if that means she could escape her ailing body.

“There was this crazy lord who brought his cat to the battlefield…”

A cat…

“It’s an odd thing to be able to say that you’re the first cat that’s ever taken a liking to me.”

The crazy idea came to her so suddenly, so forcefully and she was so desperate to catch it that she leapt out of the bed and dashed to the door.

Or so she had meant to do, for she collapsed halfway.

“Milady!” the chambermaid assigned to her to her room had woken up and cried out. Her voice was followed by the sounds of hurried footsteps and bedding being thrown away.

She, they – there were more than one tonight – came to her side.

They must have thought I would die soon.

“Milady you shouldn’t –“

“Fetch the doctor!”

Oh, why couldn’t they be Umeko, Matsuko, or Shiro or someone who knew her from her commoner days instead of these young servants who had only known her as ‘Milady’? The title she would take a long time to grow accustomed to. Had she had the time.

“No. No!” she screamed, using their hold to haul herself up. “Please, I need to go…!”

When it only served to make them tighten their hold on her, she realized she needed to change her approach. She steeled herself.

“Fetch Shigezane-sama now or I swear I will have Kojuro-sama strip your hide.”

She recognized the fearful silence that followed her words. She had experienced it firsthand, more than a handful of times, but never as the caused of it. Never in her wildest dreams, she had thought she would one day learn from Yoshihime, let alone channel the Date matriarch’s deep-rooted disdain for commoners through words.

But desperate times and all that.

“Now!” she growled.

It had taken all her strength to keep herself upright until one of the servants assigned to her went running to do her bid.

Only when Shigezane was in her chamber, wild-eyed and concerned, and she had banished all her attendants from the room, did she let herself collapse in his arms.

“Take me to Hachiman shrine, please. Take me to Kita-san, Shigezane-sama.”

***

Having been raised in a shrine with a considerable collection of sacred relics and artefacts, Kojuro was no stranger to supernatural things. He was mostly unfazed by them, and handled them like he handled everything in life – collect enough facts and think of the most effective strategy to get his objectives.

But this was… something else.

Something was following him like a cloud of… good luck. Now, most people would chalk this up to some god’s blessing but Kojuro wasn’t one of them. The universe, he believed, would always constantly balance itself, and if by some accident he was bestowed a good fortune, then he must be prepared to overcome an obstacle or a setback, as it is the way the world works. That’s why dark magic would never really work in the long run.

Good fortune made him suspicious. He has turned his tent upside down in search of an ornate temari – in case all of it was Kogiku’s work. It was unlikely that the Katakura family’s zashiki warashi could convince Kita or Shigetsugu to slip the artefact into his belonging, but just in case she had managed to do so.

But no temari in sight. And knowing Kogiku, if indeed it had been her, she would have been too proud of her work not to take the credit. This… thing that’s been happening to him, whatever it was, it had felt gentler, and manifested in more subtle, small things.

Despite his general incompetence at tidying up, he had never lost a brush during this campaign, or cracked an inkstone, or woken up to find he had spilt ink everywhere during sleep. In the past, he had often fallen asleep without eating his ration to find the rats had gotten into it in the morning. But never in this campaign. In fact, no mention of rats anywhere in the reports he was inspecting.

These small things might escape his notice had it not been culminating in one pivotal incident during a recent skirmish with the enemies. An enemy scout had noticed them during one of their nocturnal outings. He had been stealthy and fast, and he would have gotten away and warned his camp had it not been for something that attacked him, immobilizing him enough for his party to capture him.

That something might have been an animal, for he had found scratches and bite marks on him. Genya only shrugged and smiled when he quizzed him whether that was Oboro’s work.

“Whatever it was, it was definitely the work of a good bitch, huh, Kojuro-san?” he had said in his typically lazy drawl and coarse language, breaking his disguise as Masamune’s kagemusha for a few seconds. Kojuro had a sneaking suspicion that the shinobi had known something more than he let on. But again, Genya had always known more than he let on.

These things that most people would thank the gods for, they made him feel apprehensive. Because they started to feel like a compensation. The universe had not been kind to him and his precious girl of late, and these, he feared, were the flipside of some great misfortune that’s coming their way.

Deep down, he was terrified for her. She had promised him to fight to get better. And she had never let him down, as his page, as his lover. But some things were beyond the mortal control and mortal realm.

Her letters had stopped coming. Kojuro told himself that it was because they had made camp in a rather remote location recently. But her last letter had been short, and her penmanship – usually neat and expressive, a mirror of his own style – had been rather clumsy. It must have been difficult for her to write at that point and…

… and not even all the fortune in the could compensate for her life. So, he had said in his prayers, wishing for her health and his victory in every shrine he had found during his campaign trail, where he had stopped and played a song or two with his flute as a small offering. He needed blessings and help whenever he could find them.

***

When it dawned on him that the ambush had not meant to capture the small party he led, but to lead them inside that dark, dead-end cave, it clicked.

This is is the great misfortune.

“FALL BACK!” he shouted. “GET OUT OF THE CAVE, NOW!”

But his soldiers couldn’t hear him as a blast shook the cave. A sound of explosions, falling boulders and sliding earth followed suit, and all the sudden it was pitch black.

***

There were thirty of them, some were injured, few critically. And a handful of horses.

Kojuro had had greater losses. Much greater. But he had always managed to scrape through.

He had a nagging feeling in the back of his head that told him he’s not so sure this time. He mustn’t let that uncertainty grow louder. He needed to strategise.

If it’s any consolation, Masamune was safe back in the camp.

“Do you think I can let them know that I’m not Masamune? Might be good for their morale,” Genya whispered next to him when he had finished taking stock of their trapped party.

“No. Not yet,” he whispered yet. “There must be a way out.”

***

There was not, a way out.

There was an underground river at the back of the cave though. So they had water…

They could butcher the horses for meat.

They had enough cloth to fight the dropping temperature at night.

They had oil and flint stone to make fire.

They had sustenance. But they had no way out.

And they had no way of letting the outside camp know. Not even to warn Masamune, who was now left without his eyes, his claws and his body double. The size of the Date army was of a small comfort, but Masamune was about to be severely disadvantaged.

He needed to find a way out.

***

Still no way out.

He had sent one of his men into the water, in case there was a way for them to swim out of the cave.

He had gone for quite a time Kojuro feared he had drowned. Then he resurfaced only to say that there was indeed a way out, but it was too small for anyone to swim through.

They decided to butcher one horse.

Kojuro shook his head lightly when Genya raised an eyebrow, repeating the question to reveal his identity.

No, not yet. There must be a way out. He would not so easily give up.

He had promised to return to her.

***

He woke up to find two of his injured men had succumbed to death in the freezing night.

They buried them under the rocks. He played a song that brought tears to some men’s eyes, and say some words to rekindle the fire in their soul.

They decided to butcher one more horse and drank the little sake they had left.

It must have been the third day.

The stale air began to take the stench of human waste.

Kojuro still shook his head to Genya’s unspoken question.

Exhausted, but unable to sleep, Kojuro thought he saw a pair of glowing eyes. He blinked, and it disappeared. He thought he heard a splash.

But all his men were accounted for. No one had been throwing himself into the river.

***

Fifth day. Two more men. Two more horses. The morale was declining.

They still closed their eyes and smiled when they hear his song. But he could see the exhaustion seeping into their bones. He could feel it in his own flesh.

He thought of his precious girl. He thought of Masamune. He thought of Shigezane and his injury. He hoped they were in a better state than his own.

But he still shook his head to Genya’s question. No, they are not at that point. He needed to keep his faith that there would be a way out before they got to that point.

The shinobi had ditched his Masamune impersonation, keeping only his tone of voice and his eyepatch. Kojuro let it slide. It was dark anyway – they had decided only to keep one torch lit.

The air was foul.

Kojuro told himself that it was a sign that they were still alive…

… not the stench of death coming for them.

***

Seventh day.

They had butchered all the horses, tearing apart their carcasses and preserved what they could.

He had dragged Genya to a secluded alcove and punched him for making a joke that maybe they would soon need to eat each other to stay alive. To his credit, the shinobi seemed to regret his words.

“Tomorrow,” Kojuro said, letting his grasp on Genya’s (Masamune’s) armour fall away. “We’ll tell them tomorrow,” he said to him before dismissing him to tend to his bruised cheek.

He still believed they would find a way out, but couldn’t ignore the little voice on the back of his head that said his men needed something to hold on to. They needed to know, at least, were they to be buried alive, that they had done so to save their lord and the Date clan.

He thought of Masamune, hoping that he had enough resources to clinch the victory.

He thought of Shigezane, hoping that his recovery back in Yonezawa went well – Masamune would need him more than ever if –

If…

No.

He would come back to her alive.

He had promised.

He wondered how much longer he could keep his exhaustion from showing.

***

Eighth day.

He didn’t sleep at all that night.

Hoping for the best, prepare for the worst. Everything happens for a reason. Didn’t he brace himself for a misfortune to come, seeing a string of good luck that had followed him around lately?

Prepare for the worst. That he must.

Rising the morale of his men had always come easily to him. This time, though, his throat wouldn’t work for a few long seconds before he managed to call them to gather round.

Have faith and know that your sacrifices have saved our lord and clan.

He meant to say that, like he had practised again and again inside his head.

But before he could.

A distant rumble, and the cave shook.

“Gunpowder!” Genya hissed next to him. Kojuro couldn’t tell if the shinobi was alarmed or excited. He could tell if he was either. At this point, any changes to their situation would be welcomed.

Another rumble, another shook, louder this time.

And another and another. Louder each time. Someone know they were there and trying to blast their way in.

Or so he thought, he hoped.

It could still be the enemy, could it?

No. It would be much more make sense for them to let us be buried alive.

Unless they wanted to take something? Masamune, perhaps? Genya’s cover hadn’t been blown, maybe to keep as hostages?

“STAY BACK!” he shouted to his men. “HOLD YOUR WEAPON AND STAY VIGILANT!”

The sunlight, when it came through the hole created by the last blast, was blinding. And when the crescent of Masamune’s war helmet emerged from the light, he knew that the loyalty of some twenty men behind him would be his forever. And he had never been prouder.

But soon a worrying thought dawned on him.

If his great misfortune had been repaid with this miraculous rescue, would he have to pay this one with an even greater trial?

***

He was exhausted, yes. But nothing so serious that would keep him from a debrief with Masamune. But his lord had banished him to his own tent and sent a small army of attendants to attend to him, from making sure all his scraps and cuts were taken care off, his belly filled with warm food and then, to prepare a hot bath in that strange gilded basin, a gift from the Western trader that Masamune had insisted on using and bringing with him everywhere, one of his very few rare indulgences.

The hot bath did wonders for his body, enough that he could enjoy a few hours of sleep. It was midnight when he woke up. And it didn’t take long for his restfulness to give way to restlessness. He took time to retrace the documents left on his desk. Nothing major. The important ones would be kept in Masamune’s tent following his absence.

And still, no more letters from her.

That familiar anxiety returned to his chest, beating its wings inside his ribcage.

He needed to do something to both take his mind off the worst scenario that kept popping inside his head and take him one step closer to returning home.

Just like that, he heard a commotion coming from Masamune’s tent.

“Fetch the physician!”

***

The wild dogs in the forest.

The startled horses.

The errant arrow.

The shoulder’s fist, and his pointy boots.

The falling boulder.

The underground river.

The cold.

Cats have nine lives. Didn’t Luis, or Fran said that to her once? She wondered if only Western cats have that many lives. Or if she, during the few weeks’ time between the Hachiman shrine and this camp, had truly squandered most of them.

She counted seven.

But maybe, she was mistaken. Maybe she had had eight. Maybe she had died more times that she remembered.

And that she was currently on her last one.

Masamune’s hands felt so good she could forget the dull ache radiating from the core of her small body.

“Does it hurt?” she heard him say.

She replied by nuzzling his palm, purring.

Masamune chuckled. His hands were so big and so gentle. So was his smile. If only, she thought, everyone can see this side of him, no one would follow him for other reason than love.

“You should go see him,” he said again.

No. She jerked. No. He mustn’t find out.

“Sssshhh, I will not tell, calm down,” he said again, tucking her back into his lap when he thought she was about to slink away. “Just focus on getting better. You did well. You saved them. You saved us.”

She closed her eyes and purred louder. Yes, that, that was worth everything. Even if death came for her soon, she would have no regret.

At least that what she thought. The furry body she currently occupied, on the other hand, seemed to disagree with her. She could hear its thought, whatever god it was that had been kind enough to lend her this tiny, resilient body with its sharp claws and teeth, it chided her, scratched her dulled minds to consciousness and clawed her back from sleepiness.

I’m sorry, I have disappointed you, have I not? I have squandered your lives, for my own selfish gain…

But thank you, truly…

The meowing sound turned louder inside her head, urgent, almost angry. But she was so drained, and it seemed so effortless to just let the darkness take over.

She heard her name, spoken by Masamune’s voice, echoing the urgency of the voice inside her head. She blinked, too weak to purr. Masamune called her again. She wished she could answer him. Yes. I am fine. Thank you. Thank you.

“Fetch the physician!”

That voice again, the low rattle of the thousand needles Masamune reserved only at the direst of situation.

I must be dying. Again.

***

Milord Kojuro-sama,

I am losing this battle. You said to me once, a wise general must be plan and hope for the best and prepare for the worst. I am no general but I am ashamed to admit that I am not sure what to prepare at this point in time. Of if a preparation meant I have no more faith in my ability to get better, like I told you I would. The doctor (I am tempted to call him a sourplum, like Shigezane-sama does, at this point) has barred me from the kitchen (too strenuous an activity a lady must not endure! I start to think everyone has forgotten my life in this castle as ‘Ýahiko’). I hated him for it, but I should like to quit before I earn the same reputation with food preparation as you do – if you would forgive me for a little joke. I have missed you so.

The sourplum (I gave in) told me I might lose my ability to write soon. He didn’t say it in so many words (he thinks of as a ‘delicate lady’ who should avoid a messy affair like writing and just let a clerk read to me), but I can read between the lines much better than when I came to serve the clan. You’ve taught me how to. I would probably frown upon my shoddy penmanship. For that I shall retire for now. I will still be writing. But you may find this book not quite so filled up like the previous one upon your return.

But I will gladly talk your ear off with all the boring things happening to me during your absence. How I (and you little turtle Bontenmaru, who has been my steadfast companion to whom I pour my heart out) long to hear your voice and your music and feel your touch. I pray for your safe return. And in my ability to heal.

***

It was like hearing her own words in her own voice – young, sometimes wry and admonishing but never for long, for deep down she is a sunny and forgiving soul he had come to adore with all his being. The last entry in her journal had started with a sombre note, but gave no sign of surrender at the end.

The penmanship was considerably clumsier than her last letter to him. How much had her condition worsened after this she wrote this?

Words choked on his throat and his eyes stung.

“Precious girl,” he managed.

A soft mewl came from the bundle of fur on his chest.

He had run to Masamune’s tent following that commotion for fetching a physician, expecting the worse. Had Masamune been hurt? Poisoned? Enemy shinobi? The fact that Tanaka had made an aborted move to block him from entering Masamune’s tent had made him suspicious.

But never, in his life, he would have thought to walk into something so strange. Masamune, visibly panicking. But not for his own life. At a glance, he had appeared to be unharmed. He had looked distressed.

And before he could ask him what’s wrong, he had noticed the bundle he had been clutching.

He would have recognized that cat anywhere.

The first and the only cat who had ever taken a liking to him.

The physician had been visibly miffed when he had arrived to have the Lord Date ordered him to tend to his pet. But Masamune’s glare had been enough to silence whatever resentment he might have harboured. But in the end, he only shook his head. The cat could live or die, it’s all in the hands of the gods now. Best to keep her warm.

Kojuro had sat in silence in one corner of the room then, trying to make sense of the situation. The sheer impossibility of the situation had made it difficult for him to see the whole picture even when that voice at the back of his mind had been faster in guessing it.

She came to see you, idiot.

To be with you.

In whatever form she can.

A cat.

In another situation he would have admired her resourcefulness, her using a seemingly useless family heirloom. But the cat had been dying.

“Read it.”

Masamune had thrust her journal into his hands then and turned back to quiz the physician.

He had read the last entry, written by her hand. And he had read a letter slipped between the journal’s pages. He had recognized his elder sister handwriting, pleading “Bontenmaru-sama” to take care of this cat that he knows so well, for Kojuro’s sake. And to keep her a secret, as she does not wish to spend her days in pain, and away from Kojuro. And if it must be, she would assume all the blame for allowing her to go through with such an outrageous plan.

His first reaction had been to rage, to indeed blame his sister for fulfilling his girl’s utterly foolish wish.

But then Masamune had handed her that bundle of fur, all curled up and seemingly sleeping, into his hands, and his heart had shattered into pieces.

“She didn’t want you to see her like this, or turn her back to her broken body that has become her cage. But I convinced her that you deserve to have a say in it.”

So there they were, inside Masamune’s tent, warmed by the burning fireplace.The One-Eyed Dragon had mumbled an excuse and left the space to them.

Still reeling from the conflicting emotions churning inside his chest, Kojuro curled up around her, keeping her warm and close enough that he could feel her laboured breathing.

“My precious girl,” he said again, feeling his heart broken anew when her ears perked up and she cracked her eyes open.

She mewled softly. It sounded like a complaint.

He smiled, “I’ve been such a fool.”

***

No, she thought. No, please don’t blame yourself.

She knew he’s going to think this way. It had been one of the good reasons she didn’t want to reveal herself to him.

“I respect your decision to keep yourself a secret from Kojuro. But I too, owe him the truth. You are his happiness. Therefore, I command you to reveal yourself to him.”

Spoken like a true lord of the clan. What else could she do but to obey her lord, her lord’s lord, to be exact? But that had been a lie. She had been exhausted. And yes, she had missed Kojuro. Dying in Masamune’s lap after being commended for saving the clan was not bad. But the truth was, she had missed the Dragon’s Claw terribly. It had been such a torture to shadow him, see him, hear him, watch him over, without being able to reveal herself.

So, there she was, curled up in bed with her beloved lord. Just not in the way they had used to.

“My precious girl.”

She had always loved his hands. Much larger than her own, they are rough with callouses and graceful at the same time. They’ve written the most beautiful words, played the most beautiful notes from reeds and flutes… and coaxed the strangest sounds from her own body. Oh, how she longed for his touches.

Seemingly sensing this, he gingerly touched her with his fingers. Tentative, gentle strokes, on her head, along her spine. Then, when she nuzzled into his palm, he scooted closer and petted her in earnest.

Oh, that feels lovely.

She purred. And he made a sound that was half a chuckle and half a sob.

Oh, no. She mewled. This is not your fault.

“I had an inkling, that something was happening, all the small things…”

Mmmm, yes. I did good, didn’t I, milord? It’s strange, this elated feeling that sprung from inside of her. It was hers but it was something else’s too, the cat’s own.

“My food.”

Mmm, the camp cook did a decent job, she thought. But she could do so much better.

“And the absence of rats…”

They were foul. But they sated the tiny little cat god inside her body.

“That enemy scout.”

His boots had been shard. But her claws and teetch were sharper.

“You were in that cave with me, weren’t you?”

Yes, yes, I was.

“I thought I was seeing things, hearing things… I thought my own mind was haunting me. I thought of you and what if I fail our promise.”

She pawed weakly at his hand. She shared the fear of failing to fulfil their promise, too.

“But you didn’t let me.” He cupped her head, stroking the markings between her eyes reverently with his thumb. She’s such a beautiful cat like she is a beautiful woman. “I heard a splash that night. You swam out, didn’t you? You let Masamune know where we were trapped.”

Yes, I would have died a thousand deaths and I would still do it for you. She mewled.

He sobbed. “I miss hearing your voice.”

It hurt, the sadness and the hint of fear in his voice, usually so calm and gentle.

His lips, so close to her face, were dry and cracked.

If she could lean a bit further and give him a kiss, she could turn back and let him hear her…

But then, could she? Let him hear the voice he had loved so much? Her human body had not been hale and healthy for a while… who could say she would turn back to her human body and sound, look, the way she had been? The multiple deaths she had experienced in this borrowed little body, would those have an effect on her human body? Who could say? Not even the tiny other presence inside her body could answer.

So she touched his lips with her paws instead.

I love you. I love you.

He took her paw between his fingers, gently squeezing them. His eyes were bloodshot, the crow’s feet around them made him looked tired instead of distinguished.

“I have been a harsh taskmaster, have I not?”

No, no, you have been the best teacher, the best lover I could possibly have.

“I would have failed our promise if it weren’t for you. I should have – I should have –“

She felt helpless. She knew something like this would happen. This man was hopeless. He would blame himself and take responsibility for every misfortune that befalls the clan on his worst days.

She licked his finger and mewled and purred.

What would you do without me?

“What would I do without you?” He laughed. It sounded strange between his sobs. “You’re such a sweet cat, but remember when I told you I liked you much better in your human form?”

Ah… He was bargaining, this infuriating man. If she had the energy and her human form, she would have shaken her head.

“I remember when you woke me up that morning, hale and healthy, with lips so red, the most tempting lips I have ever seen in my life…”

Yes, she remembered waking up naked, clinging to him, after they unknowingly broken the curse the previous day by kissing. She remembered feeling so relieved she leapt out and got dressed and put on the rouge he bought for her. The rouge she had smeared on Kojuro’s lips soon after. The rouge that had kept them in bed until well past noon that day. The rouge they would forever associate with gentle morning, heated tangle of limbs and sounds, and messy bedding.

“I would give my own life to have that morning again.”

Oh, my precious man…

“You asked me to trust you to take care of yourself in my absence.”

She mewled, she knew where this was going.

“Don’t you think it will be fair if I ask you,” he paused, seemingly coming to a silent decision, “If I ask you to trust me that I can take care of you, in whatever state you might be if you turn back?”

Oh, my dear lord. I do not wish to impose upon you so….

And in her heart of hearts, she was selfish. He did not want his memory of her eroded and reduced down to taking care of an invalid.

“I am a selfish man.”

Like I am a selfish woman.

“I don’t want to let go of you. I am asking you to take the risk of turning back. Just so I can feel you in my arms again.”

No.

“To hear you telling me about your beautiful mundane days.”

That’s not fair.

“To hear you berate me yet again for making such a mess of my room.”

But you know this would happen. This would happen if you let him see you. He would bargain, he would negotiate, he would. You know this. She berated herself.

“To feel the warmth of your skin and your lips as I drag you into my bedding as you try to wake me up from my sleep.”

She meowed. Stop.

“Take the risk for me?”

Stop.

“Let me share your pain.”

Don’t do this to my resolve.

“I love you.”

I love you, therefore you must let me go.

Even her cat body would not listen. She had no strength left to run. And damn this man, she couldn’t bear to disappoint him even now, when she should have made everything simple by going away.

So she nuzzled his lips.

And hoped.

***

Few things inspired this fic, mainly elements from Kojuro’s My Eternal Love Story ES (where MC is diagnosed with beriberi) and the Seductive Superstition ES Epilogue (where MC is turned int a cat by Katakura family’s magical manekineko and turned back into a human with a kiss).

Also, I imagine the cat like the bakeneko featured in the bakeneko arc of the anime series Ayakashi (the Bakeneko arc is so beautifully drawn it remains a few anime that had made me cry).

Also, a 2014 artwork ‘Warrior takes armoured cat for a walk’ (着甲武人猫散歩逍遥図) by Noguchi Tetsuya.

There will be a smutty epilogue. Fingers crossed. My masterpost is here.

#2017slbpholidayexchange #princeanderfels #katakura kojuro #kojuro #slbp kojuro #samurai love ballad party #slbp #submission

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