The Curse of the Cat

151. Done

Teruo might keep contact with Koichi and Chiaki, but he still lived in the compound and he still saw and was directed by Fuyuno as often as others in the compound.

So it wasn't too surprising that, when Fuyuno had a message to pass along to either of them, it was through him. Because he couldn't ask Koji; that would make it more likely for the two to form a relationship… Though by this point the ship had well and truly sailed, and Teruo wasn't about to be the one to say that much to the family head.

So he took the letter, skimmed over it, and passed it along next time he stopped by the Kimuras.

It wasn't unexpected, not at all. Koichi, likewise, skimmed it and set it aside. His eyes seemed a little darker but that seemed to be the only change.

After all, he'd already been acutely aware of the ticking clock, about the countdown and the goal that was rapidly approaching.

152. Justice

Fuyuno was the head of the household, but often he felt like he'd never grown up. After all, he'd only had tutors, not school… and even the Zodiac members who lived in the compound went to some sort of school. He never left the compound, not even when the police were knocking on his doors. He let them in instead.

He couldn't leave the compound, physically or mentally.

He knew he was weaker than some of the previous heads, both physically and mentally. Though they all had their own battles, their own wayward charges that they couldn't quite keep in line. He'd learnt a little too early, maybe, or else a little too late. Or maybe some of the older members had been fighting the curse long before he'd been born.

He'd been born too late, maybe. Almost half the zodiac members were older than him and the youngest were fifteen.

Almost sixteen. Their birthdays were coming up. And july: the promised date.

And that hadn't been his choosing. He wasn't even sure who it was who'd decided, long ago, to allow the cat a little bit of freedom. He wasn't even sure what the reason was: was it pity, or was it vindictiveness, or something in between? It had been coupled, of course, with more premature deaths but they were all coloured. Possibly, all lies.

The dog had made his statement this time round: made his death public and clear enough that the police couldn't rule it as anything more than a suicide. And that brought scrutiny to his door. Forced him to relax his hand when others picked up on the slack and pulled as well… and he could only count himself lucky that it had been only the horse who'd kicked the stable doors, and none of the others.

None of the older ones, who'd been close. None of the others her age, who would have been more close to her. Or maybe age had nothing to do with it. Maybe they were all just inherently different.

It wasn't as though he'd chosen for twins to be the cat and the rat. It wasn't as though he'd chosen the conditions, or the cost. But although he was the head, he was a puppet to long standing traditions and he lacked the strength, physical and mental, to do anything but act his role.

153. Weapon

The traditional yutakas, at least, hid the lesions on his skin.

The traditional heads – the gods in the cursed fourteen – were all sick in some capacity. Usually, they weren't the only ones. The cat or the rat or neither or both would be sick as well. Sometimes one of the others, for no reason at all.

But his was a physical condition. It hadn't even spared his face: that butterfly rash that always burst across his cheeks. So whenever he left his attendants, it was coated with makeup and long sleeves that would hide the blushes on his chest and arms and legs. And whenever he struck, it was with the wooden edge of the fan or with gravity at his beck and call… he was sure Koichi, at least, had realised and let him do it regardless.

He only had hierarchy to protect him, after all.

His lungs were taut, after all. His heart was stretched thin. His kidneys were often plugging and he had his own hospital in his home to manage all of it. It was a race to see which would get him first: a vengeful family member or one of his failing organs, or would the wool of the curse vanish unexpectedly and leave him to the mercy of the law, to the mercy of crimes and cruelties of generations before him?

Because he knew full well it was illegal and wrong to lock people up, to push them until their heads cracked in more way but his ancestors had did that and worse and the precinct was long since set in stone.

154. Tide

Koichi hadn't needed the reminder of the letter, but it was there: formal, old-fashioned script and all. He'd left it in his room, because his mother didn't need a reminder too.

They were trying not to count the days. What else was there?

He was trying to burn this world into his mind, because what else was there?

He'd already packed a backpack, then unpacked and packed it again multiple times since. He wasn't sure if there was any point. He wasn't sure if those precious things would be thrown away or destroyed or whether he could keep them but he'd packed them anyway. Better taking the chance and bringing a little of the world with him than leaving them to grow stale in an empty house, his mother had said, and she was right.

He still couldn't bring himself to take those things that were precious and unique to her as well, though.

So they'd spent the time, instead, photocopying photos and sticking them into a cheap album: irreplaceable, but also expendable if it came to that. Some novels; those that had aged well with him and he could read over and over again. Paper and exercise books and maybe if they were lucky, if the others could sneak in and visit him, if Koji and Teruo at the very least could sneak by and visit him, then he could pass letters to others and his mother.

And he wasn't sure when he'd stopped thinking about the hopelessness of it all and started thinking about the possibilities of reaching the outside world anyway. If only he had a phone… though he didn't know if there'd be electricity or reception in that room.

And, of course, there were more practical things. Blanket. An inflatable pillow – one of those that came free on aeroplanes that someone had left over at some point (and thank goodness they did, because pillows would have taken up his entire bag otherwise. He didn't know what would happen with clothes. What would happen with food. But he couldn't pack those, or near enough of those to last the rest of his life.

Even though he'd known this was coming for sixteen years, he didn't know how someone was supposed to live their life out in that room.

155. Accent

Tomoko's voice thickened when she read the message. She wasn't cultured, like the Sohmas, and sometimes her voice held a tilt of something that lived outside the compound.

He hadn't managed to lose it, himself, but she had; she hadn't stayed there physically long enough… but long enough to become embroiled in their troubles. She hadn't known, when she'd married Kousei. She hadn't known, until she was holding two animals instead of two infants in her arms… but even then, she'd known they were her children regardless and she hadn't let go.

The others whispered that that doomed her, that she should have just had her memory wiped and left the Sohmas alone. But what would have happened to her poor babies then? What would have happened to Koichi?

She didn't regret her decision for a moment, and she certainly wasn't going to go back, crawling, to have her memory wiped afterwards? She'd sneak into the compound herself to see him, instead, and she knew she could; she'd done it to see Kousei years ago. Not since she'd left with an infant kitten in her arms; she hadn't dared risk it then. But mothers fought for their children, and she wasn't going to stop.

And that's as much as she told her son, holding him close, then closer still when it was a cat instead of a teenager in her arms.

Because what sort of mother would she be if she left him to that curse all alone?