The Curse of the Cat

166. Rule

All those who were somehow associated with the members of the Zodiac were present. Fuyuno, as the Clan Head, stood at the front with the one born in the Year of the Dog beside him. The frailteen stared at Koji's distant figure, standing with his father and brother.

Anyone else would think, from the distance between them, that the Cat stood alone. As he was supposed to, unless he foolishly chose to challenge the Rat in a last-ditch fight he could not hope to win. But they were close enough to remain in sight, to draw strength from the shadows the full moon cast.

Koji could see the tenseness in his figure. The fear radiating.

Fuyuno took a step, then another, stopping while there was still enough distance between the two to encompass the twelve Zodiac members, and trapped they were between their God and the one most inferior to them. Their faces were impassive; Koji had to work hard to keep his own in that manner. He knew that, not only as the Rat but as a close family member, his behaviour would influence Fuyuno's decision.

'You didn't fight,' the teen said quietly, voice hard and cutting through the air.

Koichi shook his head wordlessly.

'I told you,' the Clan Head continued monotonously. 'A monster such as the Cat cannot love.'

'I don't believe that,' the Cat responded, his own voice weak and shaky in juxtaposition, but pushed out nonetheless. 'I won't.'

'Then you have condemned yourself to eternal imprisonment.' Fuyuno pointed behind them, to the reeds that rose from the ground and the prison of darkness beyond them. 'If you are right and I am wrong, walk in there of your own free will and retain that shred of dignity.'

The rabbit, the young boy of four, cried out in disparity. The Head turned to him, expression a clean slate.

'He lost the bet.' The decree was stated factually. Coldly. 'So he will either honour the consequences on his own or they will be forced upon him.'

Koji watched his brother, eyes both wide and dim as they flickered. Between prison and life. Between those reeds and in that dark room that housed his future and the people who surrounded him. His own voice was stuck in his throat as he attempted to cry out like the Rabbit, even knowing his reprimand would be so kind.

And then Koichi turned and walked. Slowly. Purposely. Afraid; yes, he was afraid. Koji could see it. He wondered if the others could see it too. But he passed the reeds, into the abyss without a sound of complaint or defence.

Because what could he say that he hadn't already said, to those that would listen to him? For the God would never listen to the Cat. Not when it snivelled and cried for the trick the Rat had played on it. Not when an impossible task was set upon its head. Not even now, when love that could not be denied became the tool of destruction.

Outside, the voice of decree spoke. The only voice he would ever hear again. 'So this… is what you chose.'

The doors slammed shut, eliminating the light.

167. Correct

There was no other choice, he knew, but it still didn't take long for him to break.

The wood splintered under his hand, but still he hammered at it as if bringing the door down would shattered the nightmare's tightly woven grip. There were no voices outside, by that point. They'd gone, or they were silently waiting.

Well, it was no longer about denying someone their satisfaction. A little show of despair wasn't going to make anyone unlock that door. And he tired himself out easily enough.

It was almost therapeutic, he thought after, as he leaned against his backpack. At least he still had it, but he hadn't opened it yet. It was still too new, too fresh.

It was still the beginning of the rest of his life and nothing in that backpack would last forever.

The silence though, that silence after the sound of his hammering on the door and his harsh breathing settled… that would endure. He wondered how many ghosts sat on that silence. How many cats had been in this room. He'd known the answer once. He couldn't remember it now.

It seemed irrelevant, but also cruel. How much more of what he'd learnt by reading, by watching, by listening, would he wind up forgetting with only blank walls and the contents of a small backpack to stimulate him?

168. Harm

Days ticked by. Slow, painful summer days. Koji hadn't seen the others since that day: hadn't left his room, really. It was wrong, he knew, but self-imposed isolation was only a fraction of what his brother must have been going through. And his father said he could see someone on the porch of Fuyuno's house. Someone was always watching, and they wouldn't be able to sneak up close.

Sneaking out anyway would do more harm than good. Instead, he remained glued to his phone. Surely his brother would try and call, or they could call him. But no call went through. Fuyuno had thought of that, it seemed. And his heart sunk further as he thought about his poor brother, trying to reach them, to call out to them, only for nobody to hear him.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but it had failed and now it was just another source of hurt for him.

169. Strive

Days ticked by. Koichi only knew it because three meals came a day. And for some reason, they all had fish.

Not "for some reason", he reflected a little while later. It was because he was the cat of the zodiac and somebody thought cats liked fish. As though that was much of a comfort. As though he should consider himself lucky they didn't put catnip or leek into the food instead.

But the food didn't vary much. It all tasted dry and the empty cup that came with it only ever saw water from the bathroom tap. He knew one of the old cats had died of starvation and he wondered if it was because they'd tired of eating, whether they'd lost that will.

Really, the only thing he was doing to keep on living was eating, sleeping, and adhering to basic hygeines. He'd eventually unpacked his backpack in the dim sunlight. Made the bare room just a little more palatable… but already, sometimes, the adjacent bathroom was better. Little more than a hole in the ground and a tap, it wasn't a simple four wall box at least. But was wet, always wet, and a cat could hardly stand to stay in there.

And from outside, there was no sound at all. From inside, there was only him. He'd tried the phone, but there was no reception; he could only play games and use its torchlight until the battery went flat and even that was gone. He played games. He might as well, he thought, because the battery was going to wind down anyway and books at least didn't go anywhere.

170. Temperamental

A week later, Kousei came home and said he saw no eyes on the room. 'That doesn't mean there isn't anyone hidden,' he said. 'You should wait a few more days, at least.'

Weeks would be more preferable. Months, even, until they've grown older and feigned having forgot well enough that precautions are no longer necessary. But nobody could wait that long for people they loved, and that's what made those sorts of traps all the more effective.

So he wasn't all that surprised to find Koji missing not long after. He'd wished the other had mentioned it though, at least, so he could have kept watch himself. Or maybe that would have made him more conspicuous. He didn't know. He could only hope and pray and hope.

But they weren't that lucky. Or else it was a neatly prepared trap just as he'd feared. Because a dull-eyed Koji came back, unaware that he'd snuck out at all. And when Kousei brought up the topic, there was no recognition of Tomoko or Koichi or his friends at all.