Another few years have passed, and I am now 7 years old. I do not know exactly what my parents does, but it is secretive. There is a room in the house I am not allowed to enter, under any circumstances. The house itself is like a fortress.

I do not have any friends, but that is fine with me, as I can continue to cultivate my powers, and regain my former glory as the Fairy-Cat Empress- *cough* I mean, Fairy Empress of War!

I apparently have a “third quirk”, which is that metal thing I felt upon my birth.

I can summon a weapon, and it has 3 forms. A rapier, a spear, and a shield.

Every other day I am doing training exercises to build up my muscles and stamina. The most curious thing is that no matter how much I exercise, my body does not alter. I grow stronger, and gain more endurance, but this body of mine stays slender like a feline huntress. Agile, silent, fast, deadly, fluffy.

“Luxie, come eat dinner.”

My mother is calling me. I will resume my training at a later time.

Sitting around the table, we are having the most sumptuous, delicious of dinners! Fit for an Empress I say!

“Sweetie, you’re drooling. I know your cat traits makes it hard, but try to control yourself.”

Curses. My mother is giggling at my futile struggles against my own feline instincts.

My father turns his attention towards me. “Luxie, how has your training gone?”

I smile triumphantly and puff out my chest. “I can now decapitate 4 people with wind, while striking down another 6 with lightning, simultaneously!”

My father gives mother a look, and I can see her face turning grim. “Luxie Regalia. Do not speak of decapitation at the dinner table!”

I hang my head in defeat. “Yes mother.”

That is not the thing to complain about? She should say something about a 7 year old not talking about killing at all? I don’t know what you’re referring to.

Obviously my parents are used to the cruel side of the world, as they know I am.

Yes indeed, they know I am the Fairy-Cat Empress of War! Curses, even my mentality is being warped by this accursed feline body.

When I was 4, I deigned my parents worthy of knowing the truth. It was completely not due to me exhibiting weird behaviour for a 4 year old, gleaming at murder talk, weapons, my mature mind, or lots of scritches and milk bribes.

They took it well, and it seemed they believed me quite easily, as they said it explained a lot.

I have regressed. My mentality is not one of centuries years old, more akin to ten years ahead of my current age.

I can tell my bodily experiences, reflexes and instincts are still ingrained, but when it does not come to combat, I am more or less a 14 year old.

My parents say I sometimes “talk funny”, like someone from an ancient dynasty drama. I can see the resemblance, and slowly the “modern speak” is mixing with my own. Sometimes causing weird sentences.

“Honey, how will she be when she finds a boy she likes, when she is already marking me while lost in her thoughts.”

My mother’s comment brings me out of my reverie, and I tilt my head.

“But mother, I do not like boys, as I am assuming you are speaking in a manner of romantic and sexual interest?”

“Young lady! You are not to utter words associated with sex!”

I look at my father, and so does my mother. “Well honey, I am glad that is your reaction to our 7 year old daughter saying she’s gay.”

My father’s face blushes, and he averts his gaze. “Are you sure Luxie? Maybe your cat traits will make a difference?”

I pale in horror. 

No, surely not.

Right?