Milady Mikaela was always one hell of a smart cat.
She opened doors like a pro—sliding, swinging, you na it. Give her a paw and a second, and she’d have it figured out.
Honestly, if there were a college for cats, she’d graduate top of the damn class.
But even Mikaela can’t crack a keypad or pick a lock. She’s not slipping keys into keyholes or banging out ransom notes on a typewriter demanding food.
So yeah. This really is Lady Ayano.
“ow!”
“Ow!”
Milady Mikaela—no, Lady Ayano—smacks across the face with a clean cat-punch.
Soft but snappy. Just enough to make a point.
“Okay, okay, I get it! I believe you! I’m convinced! Please forgive , Lady Ayano.”
“ow, ow~!”
“Ow, ow—okay, the paw pads are off-limits. Seriously, Lady Ayano!”
She keeps going. Kneading like I’m bread dough.
Yeah, this tracks. It’s definitely her.
Lady Ayano was always good at transformation techniques. Sprouting ears and tails for laughs. Teasing the Coral Terminators, ssing with the trainees.
She loved using her charm like a blunt instrunt. I caught my fair share of friendly fire.
“Calm down, Lady Ayano. Please!”
“e-ow~?”
“How many tis did I tell you not to ss with the guys?”
“ow!”
“What’s with that look? That’s quite the displeased face.”
“e-ow.”
I slip my hands under her front legs and lift her like a sack of flour.
She hangs there, paws twitching in frustration.
At least now her brain-lting attacks are neutralized. Almost lost my brain there.
“Alright, could you please start talking? Why do you look like Milady Mikaela? Transformation technique gone wrong?”
“ow…”
She struggles. Looks dead in the eye with that ‘put down’ expression.
I set her on the table. She plants her butt and sits up straight—too straight for a cat.
Then, like she’s done it a hundred tis, she raises her front paws and starts hamring the keys on the antique typewriter.
w-w-w-w.
Clack clack clack clack—ding.
w-w-w. w-w-w.
Clack clack clack clack clack clack.
Clack clack clack—ding.
Watching her type is… dangerous.
The waves of cuteness rolling off her transcends biological limits.
“e-ow~”
She finishes and taps the page with a paw.
Lines of text stretch across the old paper in neat Roman characters.
[So you finally started taking seriously, Ikaku. You ignored for so long I got frustrated. Then I got mad. I wanted to ss with you. It felt like I swallowed a fire sac from a dragon. I got so fluffy from the stress.
Take responsibility.]
I read it aloud, then glance at her.
Her fur’s puffed out like a dandelion, and her face is pure sulk.
“My apologies.”
“ow.”
I give her a few gentle strokes down the back. A peace offering.
She accepts it—for now.
I keep reading.
[As for what happened to … honestly, I don’t know. My mory’s a blur. When I ca to, I was a cat. I think it’s a transformation, but I can’t undo it. Maybe it’s a kind of curse. I don’t rember. I modeled my form after Mikaela, so now I look like her.
Also, Ikaku, why’s the vault a ss? And wasn’t Ren just here? And Great-Aunt? Sothing happened, didn’t it? Tell .]
I stop reading aloud. Just stare at the words.
Her eyes are wide, head tilted, waiting.
“There was a birthday party yesterday. For you and the others. Do you rember that?”
“ow! w-w-w!”
Clack clack clack clack—ding.
Clack clack clack—ding.
[That’s right! We had a party! So that’s why Great-Aunt and Ren were here!
But yesterday? Was it yesterday? Am I that out of it? Did I drink too much? Is this what people an by ‘blacking out’? I’m scared. Did I go wild?]
She’s worried. Eyes searching mine for answers.
Normally I’d give her a smile, a pat, sothing to settle her nerves.
But I can’t.
Because the truth is a thousand tis worse than anything she’s imagining.
In her head, the Akai Clan still exists. She’s fuzzy on the details, but she’s clinging to the pieces.
She wants answers. But even with my lackluster imagination, I know—if I tell her what really happened, I’ll shatter the last good thing she has.
And still, I have to. Spell out the heartbreak in full.
No dodging it. I need the guts to crush that last bit of peace.
“We talked about it all, you know. ntioned things. You weren’t listening, my lady?”
I’m pretty sure we had conversations where Lady Kimiyo, Lady Ren, Miss Akashi, and the current state of the Akai Clan could be inferred.
Her face just remains blank.
Clack clack clack clack clack.
Clack clack clack—ding.
[Whatever you all talked about... I don’t rember at all.]
The human brain forgets by design. Not a flaw. A survival feature.
If we rembered everything—fear, grief, pain—we’d break.
Suppose you sense danger and enter an alert state.
You can’t forget? You remain frightened forever.
Suppose you sink into grief over losing a loved one and lose all motivation.
Sa story. Your heart remains hollow for eternity.
The mind forgets so we can move forward. When it hits overload, it trips the circuit, shuts the mory out, saves the heart from caving in.
Lady Ayano’s brain must be filtering everything too painful to face.
I let out a slow breath. I don’t know how to tell her. Not like this.
I need to get it right.
While I stall, her paws go back to typing.
Clack clack clack clack—ding.
[This devastation... Now that I think about it, it’s not normal, is it?]
“Yes… You’re right. Sothing terrible happened.”
Clack clack clack clack.
Clack clack clack clack—ding.
[I didn’t want to leave the entrance. A feeling held back.]
Her round eyes glance toward the vault door, then back to .
Her innocent gaze flickers, uneasy.
Clack clack clack clack.
Clack clack clack clack—ding.
[I felt like I shouldn’t go. Even now, I don’t know why. I can’t summon the courage to move forward.
But I want to. I want to leave.]
“Lady Ayano, that’s—”
Clack clack clack clack.
Clack clack clack clack—ding.
[I’ll be fine. But I still can’t bring myself to move on. Not on my own. So, Ikaku, I officially give you permission to carry . I forgive all your previous snuggling transgressions.
Now take out of here. Don’t look back, no matter what. Even if I fight you.]
She paws the last word and looks up at . Steady now. Bracing herself.
“I accept your command.”
I lift her gently. We leave the vault.
Her small body shakes. Her heart pounds against my chest like a trapped bird.
She claws at , desperate to turn back.
Her tears wet my shirt. Her nails rake my skin.
But I don’t stop.
Because the pain she’s in, the terror she’s fighting… it makes mine feel like nothing.
I hold her tight and climb the stairs.
One slow step at a ti, toward the light.
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