Chapter Fifteen

Weaponized

 

Nekohiko's mind gave up the moment the Binding woman used the simplest of techniques of fusing live, animal tissue and deadened wooden parts. A flash of vivid pain surged up and down his spine (he had... spine now?), crested over his ribcage, pulling his wooden segments together and knitting them tighter with sinew and tendons. His surface scalded when fat and oils mixed together, eating at his wooden grain and settling within like acid. Joins snapped, clicking closed, and rigidness of all those disfigured parts receded as the tautness of muscle replaced it.

He lurched, convulsing head to tail, each of his four legs trapped in rigor mortis. If he hadn't learned how to keep quiet under Kataji's saw and hatchet in the previous weeks, by now he'd scream out of his new cat throat -- scream with a fully human voice like he only knew how.

Damn it, it hurt. Damn it, it wasn't even over yet, was it!

And yet, he held himself together, pretending to be lifeless and inanimate like the woman and Kataji had agreed he should be.

A tremor ran up and down him after the torture ended. He must have blacked out at one point because most of it passed in a blur. Pain, he remembered. The exact order of operations or methods used -- he didn't. Maybe it was better that way.

Kataji was already softly laying him down in the same basket he'd brought Nekohiko in. There were fluffy blankets here specifically for this purpose, and Kataji covered Nekohiko underneath them. Nekohiko blearily peeked at Kataji's concerned face from within his basket, then closed his eyes, exhausted.

He had little to no idea how and when they'd exited the Binder's pet store and came back into the buttery glow of sunlight splashing over the roofs of Sai. He opened one eye to see the streets shifting past him as Kataji carried him like a mother would a baby in its cradle, then he closed them again.

Next time he came to his senses, it was already tepid dusk, and the crickets and frogs started their evening songs in the bushes of the Red Stone Estate. Nekohiko dashed up, spooked by the sudden clangor of something metallic beside him, and--

...he dashed up.

He could... move.

The realization was more powerful than the pain that still kept hold of his new limbs. It hurt to get used to having a legitimate body that was so much more vulnerable than a monolithic block of wood, but he couldn't help himself. He turned his head and stared at his pale-cream coat of silky fur, squeezed his paws (he had paws!) to release claws into the blanket he sat on, tilted his body to get the sense of how it moved and balanced.

The thing that had clanged earlier and startled him jingled once again and Nekohiko's ears twitched in reaction even faster than he jerked around to face the threat.

The feeling of his ears flattened against his head was incomparably bizarre. It both fascinated and unnerved him.

"Look at you, Itsuki! How jumpy you are! How adorable!" Aomi rolled in laughter as she leaned on Kataji for the fear of tumbling down from the steps. The two sat at the highest steps of a flowery gazebo, sipping tea and eating sweets as they waited for Nekohiko to wake up. Aomi had just dropped a metallic tray on which her writing utensils lay, and now was choking with laughter, completely forgetting about the writing exercises she'd been doing before.

"Aaaah, so cute -- look at his big frightened eyes!"

"You are the one who's scaring him most," Kataji told her, then hurried to Nekohiko's basket to pick him out of it. His hands already reached out to Nekohiko when Kataji stopped himself.

For a moment there, Nekohiko thought that Kataji had actually forgotten he was a human being inside a little cat, and not an actual cat in need of a calming embrace.

Nekohiko stared at him suspiciously. "Did you just want to pick me up?"

"No." Kataji removed his hands, instantly defiant. "Just wanted to inspect your new body for signs of matter rejection or corruption." He studied Nekohiko up and down, then asked ceremoniously, "How are you feeling? Can you move every part of you?"

"Let me... try."

He could. By Spirits and deities -- he could! His legs were capable of bearing his weight, his eyes could open and close and swivel within their sockets to peer to the side, his twitchy ears could pick up the tiniest of sounds, and his whiskers...

Mmmm, the whiskers were some of the most intense tactile receptacles he'd ever imagined. And his flexibility. And his... claws.

With a sickening pleasure, the blunted tips of Nekohiko's bronze claws stuck out of his paws, glinting fiery under the light of the oil lantern. Critically speaking, he'd known these bronze pokers weren't any good the moment Kataji had begun fitting them onto the paws last week, with how safety-obsessed Kataji was being. He didn't want Nekohiko to hurt his own new body with a sharp claw, let alone hurting someone else. So he'd given Nekohiko something any normal person would even struggle to call claws. They were more like curved, blunt sticks made of bronze. Nekohiko had agreed that safety was a necessary concern, but deep inside, he'd already decided he would sharpen them later against one of Kataji's polishing blocks.

Ah, how good these would feel once sharpened.

He needed these claws, as well as his teeth, and as well as this new, agile body. There were several people in this life he needed to use them against.

Several? Oh yes. The recent run-in with that Daichi bastard had given him an intriguing clue. Would he really gain the body of a cat only to diligently wait inside it till he received the real, humanoid one instead?

Or would he do something about this body? Something purposeful? Something important?

Daichi had been there when Nekohiko died. Daichi must know -- or at least suspect -- the reason why he'd been murdered. No? It didn't matter to Nekohiko whether he knew or not. Unlike Abihiko, Daichi was here. He was nearby. He was... a clue.

Any clue worked as long as it got him closer to his ultimate goal. So what if he didn't have a human body yet, to search for those clues? A cat's body would have to do.

A humanoid doll seeking revenge, answers, and murdering people sounded scary, but also somehow believable. On the contrary, a wooden cat dummy slicing people up to get information or to kill? Ah, too macabre and ridiculous to even warrant a thought. Yet this was precisely what made this body so good.

How no one suspected it could harbor intentions just as evil as those of a bitter humanoid dummy.

So since he didn't yet have the body that could wield real weapons and inflict real damage -- these claws were the closest thing to a weapon in his possession. Mind you, it would be incredibly difficult for a cat to threaten or outright murder any fully-grown human with these, but if he was being smart about it, and was taking full advantage of his small cat limbs, even murder wouldn't be such a big dea--

"Awwww." Aomi crept to his basket as well, but unlike Kataji, she couldn't handle the sight of Nekohiko at all. As he fumbled around, still unused to his proportions, and clumsily plopped several times on his stomach or his backside, all she did was make sweet faces at him. Everything in Aomi was bubbling with barely-hidden glee. "Come here, Itsuki. Come to Big Sis."

And without receiving a yes, she grabbed him and lifted to her face to cuddle.

Nekohiko went limp, too scared to break his new body by struggling too hard. But as he wanted to command her to put him down, his voice caught on a bump in his throat.

The sound that came out wasn't entirely human. The beginning of the phrase was severely degraded by a purrlike trill. "Aomi, boundaries."

"Oooh, listen to how he speaks," Aomi crooned all the more.

He shut his eyes, disappointed with the noise he made. Was it that damn purr-box? He already wondered if there was a quick way to turn it off somehow. Or maybe not...

Because now that he mulled it over, using his new cat body to the fullest when hunting people down might mean that he could -- and should -- exploit the general perception of cuteness all cats naturally possessed. Why not? People dropped their guard around things they considered adorable. Would they ever expect to be tormented or murdered by one of them?

Though chilled with the sheer callousness of such an idea, he nonetheless clung to it.

"Aomi, he's a person, not an actual cat!" Kataji wanted to steal him from his sister -- that was clear. As clear as the fact that, at the same time, he didn't want to touch Nekohiko while Nekohiko's body looked so ungentlemanly. "He asks you to respect him! Can you at least try? Stop nuzzling him! That's inappropriate! Would ever do that to a real sixteen-year-old man?"

Aomi didn't even have to think about it. "Yes, of course? If he's cute."

Seething in loud silence, Kataji wrestled with Aomi and twisted her wrists until she released Nekohiko into the grass. Nekohiko sprawled with all four of his legs trembling from the exertion. Attentive as always, Kataji tilted the basket for Nekohiko to crawl back in while Aomi rubbed her forearm, throwing vengeful looks at her brother.

"Using your size against those who are weaker than you, tsk."

"It's already nighttime, so it's time Itsuki and I got to bed. I only wanted to hurry up the process," Kataji said as a way of apology. He stood up from the grass, straightening his disheveled clothes and hair, and marched back to the house.

But not before Aomi hummed from the back. "'Hurrying to get to bed'? Suuure, that didn't at all sound inappropriate, nuh-hm."

Kataji's step faltered only once. "Good night, sister."

It was nice that he and Nekohiko had such a transparent agreement about these things. Yes, to Aomi it might appear weird that Kataji would take a man to his bed tonight, but Nekohiko didn't find it so. He was a cat, after all. How was this significantly different from when he and Kataji had lodged in the workshop for weeks at a time, lying pretty much alongside each other every night? Not speaking about this, not even giving it a second thought was the most comfortable arrangement Nekohiko could imagine.

After all, he had only now come back to his senses, and he was still painfully weak from the Binding ritual. The workshop was great for storing hard and unfeeling things there. But a cat's body recovering from a traumatic experience needed care, and needed softness, and needed warmth.

But all that aside, Nekohiko forgot about Aomi's aggravating innuendoes when he glimpsed her small figure from afar as Kataji was already ascending the steps into the manor. Aomi sat by the gazebo's entrance so lonely, hugging her knees to her chest, peering at the ground beneath her feet as if seeing something only she found interesting. The strange loneliness of her and her calm and quiet manner astounded him. He'd never seen her like this.

He wondered if anyone had bothered to see this side of her with how lively and annoying she was otherwise. What old master Metori had told them earlier today suddenly made it to Nekohiko's mind.

Do we not view other people around us as furniture? As background? As objects? As long as they work as they should, do we even notice them?

Displaced, Nekohiko glanced up to Kataji but didn't find anything out of the ordinary in him.

"I keep wanting to ask if I should get you milk." Kataji slunk through the dim halls of the main house, basket against his chest. "It is a bit too easy to forget what you are with the way you look."

"Just a bed and a pillow would be great," Nekohiko murmured, his head sticking out of the basket.

Before, he'd never been inside the mansion, so he took it all in, curious. The ebony halls were wide and ascetic, the open rooms created mazes of interconnected corridors, each door throwing pools of lamplight glow into the dark hallways. From beyond the thresholds, Nekohiko saw vases, tasteful curtains, lounging benches, and seats, lacquered tables, and bookshelves upon bookshelves. Rarer, a housemaid or a Bound Servant did small chores further away in the distance. But rarest of all were the household Spirits -- door and window Spirit in the guise of an old man, the beautiful lady of the tea ceremonies, the floaty bird-like Spirit of dust. All they did was wander around, looking lost and hazy with a lack of purpose.

The sound of two or three people mumbling in the next big room forced Kataji to lift to his tiptoe to ghost past their door. But the creaky floorboards thought otherwise.

"Ah, Kataji!" His Great Aunt beamed. She waved a small snowflake-bound fan, sending waves of cool breeze to her face flushed with the summer heat. As all old ladies, she took it worse than the youngsters did. "We have leftover chilled cream sent from Sai. Do you want it?"

"Lord Daichi sent his regards again," the Great Uncle echoed her, also spreading his arm over the small dining table. "Come, come."

Lord Daichi? Nekohiko's ears pricked up. Yes, tell me more!

"No, no, forgive me, but I'm too tired..." And Kataji yawned with all his might. "Time to go to--"

Nekohiko wasn't ready to leave so soon when his objectives were right within his reach. There was only one way for him to do what he needed. And Aomi had been right before: cuteness was his primary weapon now. He only had to begin learning how to use it to his advantage.

"Meowr," Nekohiko said in the teensiest voice, then slipped out of the basket and to the floor.

"Wait, what? You can't do that--" Kataji caught himself off fast enough. Why would he be screaming at a cat about what it could and couldn't do?

Nekohiko was already inching his way toward the table, eyes thoroughly on the flitting fan in Great Aunt's hand.

The Uncle was the first to exclaim in pure joy, "A kitty? Ah, Kataji -- where did you find it!"

The Great Aunt slowed down her fan, a smile spreading on her lips. "You like this, don't you? You little rascal," she laughed, then ponderously searched the table for something to give to Nekohiko. A tassel charm on her waist fit her intention just fine. She wiggled it in front of Nekohiko, expecting him to play with it.

And damn, it, Nekohiko did. He needed practice in this body anyway. That Kataji was likely left speechless by the door was of no concern to him as long as Kataji remained in the room. Odds were, the Auntie and Uncle would talk more about Daichi soon enough. Once they stopped gushing about Nekohiko, that was.

One of the walls of the room featured a floor-length, wide bronze mirror fused with quicksilver. In it, a mild-looking old couple in simple yet refined clothes toyed with a small cat. A creamy ball of fur ending with a distinct black tail. Nekohiko didn't give himself a lot of attention, but he noted how graceful and effortless he looked. A true cat, wasn't he!

"Give it a bit of cream," Uncle urged the Auntie, and the woman hurried to pick up the small bowl.

"The cat is made of wood," Kataji said from the door.

The old couple's interest in the cat waned that same moment.

"Oh." The Uncle blinked at Nekohiko, stunned. "It is really lifelike."

"Kata, I love it. Did you make it yourself?" Even disappointed she wasn't playing with a real cat, Auntie couldn't stop wanting to squeeze Nekohiko's coat in her long-nailed fingers, and Nekohiko did his best to avoid her. "You're getting so much better with these things, aren't you?"

"Yes, yes, the lessons with Master Jiro weren't a waste, after all," the Uncle nodded on.

"Thank you," Kataji said curtly. "Itsuki, Itsuki, psst -- get back in your basket."

"Ah. It has a name," Uncle said with a peculiar emphasis.

And Nekohiko completely understood why. People rarely gave Bound puppets or pets names. Those people who did were usually perceived as either quirky and pretentious, or downright deviant. Though most would treat dummy-namers politely, they would still spread freaky gossip about such persons behind their backs.

"Yes. It has a name," Kataji conceded gravely. "Now, Itsuki! Quick, come here!"

Ashamed to act like this, but resolute, Nekohiko couldn't give in yet.

"Mrrr-meowr," he said and went on with his cat performance.

"But it's still a wooden cat, isn't it..." Auntie said after a while, finally getting fed up with Nekohiko's overacting frenzy with the tassel. Worriedly, she peeked up at her nephew, and a faint blush of timidity appeared on her creased, waxy face. "Kata, for a man of such a healthy age -- seventeen, at your prime! -- sitting all lonely and closed off in the estate with your little sister and us old ducks is not most exciting, truly. By chance--"

"Great Aunt," Kataji let out an indignant sigh. He flinched to leave that same moment, but couldn't. Nekohiko clearly saw just how torn Kataji was between a conversation he found uncomfortable and being unable to leave without Nekohiko.

"Are you not lonely, Kataji? Do you not want friends, or like other people your age?" both old people stacked up questions on top of one another. "Maybe a bride? A young woman you fancy?"

"Oh dear spirits. This is just..."

Really, Nekohiko felt terrible he'd begun this. But it was too late to stop now. With a guilty look at Kataji's ashen face in the mirror, Nekohiko sank to the floor to roll left and right, exposing his stomach. The Auntie lazily rubbed him across, but her eyes never left Kataji.

"You rarely, if ever expressed interest in other people, so I think maybe..." She consulted her husband with a glance. "Maybe we should hire a matchmaker and find you a spouse that way? The best of marriages are known to happen between people who don't know each other."

"Thank you but no!" Kataji breathed a bit quicker than usual. His color shifted from pale to flushed in patches. "Just give me my cat back." After a brief second of silence, Kataji added much lower, probably directing it solely at Nekohiko, "Or I'll come and get him myself. I am this cat's master, after all."

"Him? It's only a cat doll." Auntie squinched her eyes in rising pity. "Oh, you must be so lonely, Kata..."

"No matchmaker in the area will do. Local young ladies are no real match for the Supreme Divine Emperor's brother." The old man drummed his fingers on the table, then patted an empty seat meaningfully. "Come sit with us. Eat some cream, sweet Kata."

Auntie fanned herself faster, too absorbed by the turn of the conversation. "I know where. Someone in the capital, perhaps? Just imagine -- a bride from one of Nara's most prominent families!"

"That's it." Kataji dropped his basket and rushed into the room to grab Nekohiko in his arms, but Nekohiko was prepared.

He darted past the dining table's short, stocky legs and hid underneath. The easiest way to get him would be to overturn the table, but with how many cups and plates there were on top of it...

"Daichi!" both the Uncle and Auntie said at the same time. They seemed not at all interested or surprised by Kataji's dive through the room and his messy attempts to kick his cat from under it. "Daichi would definitely help us!" Auntie went on, oozing excitement. "King Okinaga would know whom to talk to about a topic so sensitive."

Yes. Yes, at last. The sole reason Nekohiko had abandoned his dignity to engage in this buffoonery. Mentions of Daichi.

Swift as a swallow, Nekohiko slithered out from the other side of the table and zoomed onto Auntie's lap, welcome and safe within the confine of her hands. The woman barely noticed him jumping on her, still mainly speaking to her husband over Kataji's head, but her fingers began stroking Nekohiko's silky fur by pure reflex.

Kataji resurfaced from his search on the floor, eyeing Nekohiko with great displeasure.

"How long ago had he gone to the Utsuro Kingdom?" The Auntie winced, troubled with remembering. Nekohiko was so nervous about her ability to recall that he rubbed his head against her hand as if no nudge her on. More than that, he found out that turning on his purr-box was ridiculously easy. Like saying the 'r' sound -- so natural. "He might be coming back through our lands soon..."

The rumble of Nekohiko's purring was indeed very intense. Kataji's frown changed from wronged to perplexed.

"What are you doing?" his lips mouthed at Nekohiko.

The old man shook his head at his wife. "No. Master Daichi said he'll go straight back to Nara from there."

"Aaaai," the woman moaned. "Write to him. Send a direct flyer to Sakai's castle. I bet we'll get Daichi before he has to leave them." When her husband made a rustling move to reach for the writing drawer in one of the nearest shelves, the Auntie added, "And invite him straight here. Say we have something quite -- quite exciting and important to talk about!"

That night, Nekohiko felt fulfilled. He felt alive. He felt as if his life was finally getting onto some track. Daichi would return to Red Stone Estate several days from now. Nekohiko could barely suppress his excitement. One of his murderers, however innocent of the actual act of murder -- would be so close to his working, weaponized body soon.

He could kill him and find at least some relief for the bitter resentment in his soul. Or he could ask him -- torture him -- demand from him the answer to the only question that mattered:

Why?

Everything was falling into place. How could he not be happy? He had a body, and he had a real, achievable goal within his grasp!

At the same time, Kataji...

Kataji was nothing short of fuming. After the evening time with Aunt and Uncle had finished, and Nekohiko went up the stairs on his own, followed by sullen Kataji, the spacious bedroom on the second story where Kataji slept was so silent, so intense, so uncomfortable, Nekohiko didn't know what to do other than to sit in the corner and gaze at Kataji with his eyes wide open.

Kataji closed the door and sagged onto his bed on the floor. Like Aomi an hour prior, he sat in such a weary, dejected pose, staring straight before him, lips tight, brow furrowed, that something nonexistent yet undoubtedly alive squeezed in Nekohiko's chest.

"Kataji?" Tentatively, Nekohiko padded toward him, but sat a few steps away, too ashamed to sit beside him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to have your relatives talk about something personal like that..."

"It's not your fault." Kataji didn't look at him, speaking to the floorboards as if mesmerized. "They would've talked about it even if you didn't prompt them with this whole... creepy doll-pet owner thing. Which I guess I am now."

"This thing with your marriage," Nekohiko began, wanting to console. Once, he'd been himself betrothed to two women he barely knew; he understood completely how disorienting and dehumanizing it felt, to be treated no better than a doll in a bossy child's pretend play. "If you have someone specific on your mind, it's better to speak up and ask her to marry you before it's too late. Even if she rejects you. At least then you'd know for sure. But arrangements matched by relatives are impossible to break once they're settled."

"I'm not remotely interested in talking about this."

Wait. This reminded Nekohiko of something... It was as if this same conversation had already happened to him once before. Had Kataji's similarities with Abihiko been more than in mere physical looks?

"Kataji," Nekohiko asked, buzzing with worry. "Do you like women at all?"

"...are you my Aunt?" Kataji exploded, eyes huge and gleaming on his ashen face. "My uncle? What is this!"

"I only wanted to help. Give advice, maybe."

"Let's just sleep." Kataji threw the shoes off his feet and lay down languidly, fully clothed. He noticed that Nekohiko was still watching him in concern, so he turned on his other side, hiding under his blanket.

With any other person and under any other circumstances, Nekohiko would have dropped the matter already. But this whole mess was his fault. And Kataji had always been nothing but nice to him. This young man didn't deserve to fall victim to Nekohiko's side schemes.

Nekohiko slowly crept nearer. He was cat only in appearance, so he didn't feel comfortable with nudging his head into anyone's body, or rubbing himself against them. But maybe... something not so inappropriate?

"What are you doing?" Kataji turned around when Nekohiko's purr-box began working again. "This isn't helpful. No one would be able to fall asleep to that noise! Also..." He sat up, pushing the heels of his palms over his eyes. "Why, why are you making it in the first place? You're a human. It's so... bizarre."

"It's very soothing," Nekohiko said, frustrated. "It makes my whole body buzz and settle down, so it feels very meditative to me."

Kataji plopped back to his pillow. "Whatever." After a pained moment, he added, "Good night."

The night ended up not as good or peaceful, at least in Nekohiko's perception. He didn't have any more eyes back in Kataji's workshop, but he felt that somebody stole several of his smaller pieces from the box where they lay. Aomi? Who else. He lazily twitched an ear but didn't bother to go check on her. For now, he was content with simply this: half the bed, half the pillow, his very own small blanket.

It was enough for him for the entire week and a half it took for his target victim to arrive.

And he didn't spend these one week and a half on mere sleeping and cavorting around. No. Though cuteness was definitely a weapon, he'd prepared something far, far more effective than that.