So They Said
Author: jayded kitsune
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Unfortunately.
They say that cats
and dogs are born to be bitter enemies.
A young cat, with fur as dark as
Hades' black heart. Scrawny, bedraggled, a born fighter. Hissing and attacking
any man or beast who dares to approach him, who chanced to wake him from
slumber. A lone black cat, with eyes the colour of a cloudy night sky, where no
stars are visible in the deep blue.
A young dog, with tawny golden fur.
Well-built, beautifully groomed, owned by an old lady who petted and loved him
very much. Friendly, affectionate, pink tongue lolling out of the mouth that
stretched in a perpetual grin. A well-liked dog, with eyes the colour of a clear
ocean, sparkling as the sun's rays glance off the deep blue.
It is said
that the old lady often let her dog out to wander the streets as he pleased,
trusting that love of her was great enough to draw him home each night. She was
too frail now to be out walking a dog. It is also said that as the dog strolled
down the streets of the town each day, birds, other dogs, young girls and boys,
and even the odd adult would be attracted to him. But try as they might to
entice him with the joys of freedom or the promise of a better life with them,
he returned every night to the old lady.
It was on one of these nights
that the dog met the little black cat. A movement behind an overturned trash
can. A trick of the light? No, as the gleam of two eyes betrayed the dark
shadow. Claws reached out and scratched the dog on the leg, leaving five red
threads on the warm skin. Still the dog did not budge, sniffing curiously at his
mysterious attacker. And he smiled.
Confusion flitted across the intense
cobalt eyes as they stared into the clearer depths of blue, so like his own, yet
somehow different. The eyes narrowed. The tail twitched. Then the black cat
turned its back on the golden dog, slowly retracing its steps to the hole in the
wall in which he slept.
They say that a cat will never consent to have
his feet wet.
The dog never saw the cat again for many days. The weather
turned foul the next day, rain pouring incessantly from the hopeless grey skies,
lightning flashing bright enough to blind, thunder crashing relentlessly. The
old lady, of course, would not let her precious dog out in such weather. And
soon, the dog became restless. Pacing up and down the little apartment, whining,
begging to be allowed to roam freely.
Finally, the lightning and thunder
ceased. The torrents became a light drizzle. So the old lady let the dog out for
the first time in weeks.
He gambolled down the streets and back up again.
He splashed in puddles, big ones, small ones. If a dog ever laughed, that golden
dog did. And the people trudging along with heavy raincoats and large umbrellas
laughed to see him.
On his way home, something caught his eye. A black
silhouette, with four feet planted firmly on the ground, tail held high, face
turned towards the falling rain. The eyes were closed, but the dog knew, with a
pang, even before the shadow opened them to look at him, that they would be the
clouded blue he remembered.
They stood there staring at each other for
long moments, almost as if transfixed. The cat broke the spell first, again
turning his back on the dog to retreat into his private space for another nap.
The dog blinked. He was sure he had seen the small figure hunch up and shiver,
as if unbearably cold.
They say that a dog may love many, but he gives
his heart only to one.
The weather continued to improve. Soon enough, the
dog was taking his evening strolls in dry streets under the glow of the setting
sun. And every night, he looked for the little black cat. Sometimes he saw him,
sometimes he did not. It was the very unpredictability of the event that kept
the dog interested, kept him looking.
One night, he was late returning to
the old lady, who would never retire to bed before her beloved companion came in
for the night. The moon was already hung high in the sky, just a sliver of
curved light. The cat was not at his usual place tonight, and the dog would have
just hurried on as usual, but something held him back, made him wait despite the
hour. Soon enough, the shadow, now so familiar to him, appeared.
But
something was different. The usual swaying grace with which the cat usually
strode was gone, replaced by a jerky, limping gait. The elegant tail, usually
held high with pride, was now half-bent toward the ground. Something was
wrong.
For the first time in his short life, the dog felt fear, though he
did not know what it was and so could not put a name to it. Slowly, he
approached the slight figure, which now seemed even smaller than before. A pink
tongue reached tentatively out to lick the scratched nose briefly. It was the
first time the dog had touched the cat, and not the other way around.
The
cat stirred from its stupor, to look irritatedly at the dog. The tail, still at
half-mast, twitched slightly. He backed up, just two steps, to regard the large
figure before him, whose coat was gleaming in the faint light.
He felt a
presence next to him, felt a warmth on his side, before his blurred vision
registered that the dog was no longer in front of him. He turned to see a shiny
coat pressed against his own dark one, the blood running from the cuts and
scratches on his body staining the gold. He pulled away instinctively, but a low
growl, gentle nudges and sniffs from a velvet nose, and another brief lick from
a hot tongue made him change his mind, leaning against the dog who offered help.
The one who guided him carefully back to the place he called home, having no
other. The friend that lay beside him as he slumped against the cold ground,
falling into a deep slumber.
They say that a dog always returns home to
his master, come what may.
When the cat awoke the next morning, to cheery
sunlight and birdsongs, the first thing he felt was a soft warmth, so unlike the
previous nights when all he felt was the slowly-heating ground.
When he
tried to scramble to his feet, but failed and fell, he felt a strong body
supporting his own weak one, so unlike other times when his legs gave up on him
and let him tumble back down.
The cat lived. Painfully. This fight had
left him more injuries than ever before, even when he was a ignorant kitten with
no street smarts, the only survivor of a starved litter. What does the life of
one tiny feline matter? He could just give up and lay himself down to
die.
But he never did. He pushed on, forcing his body to heal, forcing
his shaking legs to hold the thin frame. For his tiny life did matter... to one
large dog.
The dog never returned to the old lady, who mourned for him,
and had to be consoled by neighbours and relatives. Eventually, someone brought
her a wiggling bundle of brown fur, a mischievious puppy to take the place of
the affectionate companion. The old lady petted the puppy as she had the older
dog, but in her heart she knew that there would never be another like her lost
pet.
The little black cat with the cobalt eyes could testify to
that.
That was a long time ago, the story of the bond between two
rivals.
They say that animals do not have souls.
A young boy, with
skin fair. Tall, slender, yet giving the impression of hidden strength and
immense potential. Movement showing off careless grace, now stilled as he looked
out to sea, perched on a rock. Raven locks that covered his eyes. Eyes that
curved slightly at the corner to resemble a cat's, the colour of a night just
after a storm, when the clouds have all been chased away to reveal one twinkling
star in the expanse of deep blue.
"Kaede!" A glad call that shattered the
peaceful silence. The boy turned, anticipation etched on the sculpted
face.
Another boy, slightly older, skin bronzed by the sun. More built
than the slender boy, muscular physique betraying an active nature. Large,
confident strides that took him quickly towards the one atop the rock. Black
hair slicked into stiff spikes away from his face, all the better to show off
the brilliant smile. Eyes that lowered their gaze, to meet blue with
blue.
"Akira." Just a whisper, only audible to the two, as pale arms
wrapped around the other's waist. As tanned arms mimicked the actions to hold
the smaller boy tighter against the firm body. As intense looks locked and
held.
He smiled. And at last, so did he.