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I returned to the empty rooftop, where I could either spend my time thinking or sleeping. Fortunately, I found my way to sleep. I supposed that cats did do that a lot.
A few days passed, and various noises tormented me each day, but I ignored them. I would curl up in a hiding spot and sleep all day long because I was anxious about being captured by people.
Then, when the sky darkened, I would roll around and soak in the moonlight. Sometimes I would peer over the parapet wall to catch a glimpse of the city’s night view. I didn’t try it the first day or two, but I eventually gathered the courage to climb on top of it. Was I adapting to a cat’s instinct? Or was it a memory of a past life? The beauty of the night view was something I had never known before.
“Myeeeew!” (Oooh!)
My fear of heights gradually faded, and I found myself enjoying high places. At night, I would sit on the wall and look down at the ground far, far below me. It was a heady feeling.
I knew I was becoming like a cat. Although my intelligence seemed unchanged, I had increased vision and hearing, greater desire for sleep, changes in taste, and a mood that was more fickle. My source of entertainment was flicking my tail and looking down at the ant-like smudges of the people walking below.
One night as I was staring down the parapet wall, I heard someone enter the rooftop. I quickly hid myself in the trees. There was the sound of heavy footsteps, probably a man. From my experience of the past few days, it was probably the fellow who liked to come up here for a late night smoke.
A voice spoke, and it was in absurd contrast to my expectations.
“Meow…Kitty? Meow, meow, kitty?”
It was clearly a human mouth trying to imitate a cat’s cry. It sounded quite ridiculous to my cat’s ears.
The voice that was calling me was unfamiliar, so I carefully poked my head out from the group of trees. From a short distance away stood a large man meowing into the air. It was the one from a few nights ago, the one who seemed like a nice person and for some reason I wanted to hang around with. My animal intuition told me it was alright.
I thought he had come to take more pictures, but when I studied him more closely, I saw that he was simply carrying a black bag. Why was he here? And why was he looking for me?
I debated what to do for a moment, then hesitantly stepped out from the trees. The man didn’t trigger my danger instincts. I had already met him once before, and he had petted me and didn’t take me to shelter. Most of all, I had been feeling really lonely.
I called out to him carefully.
“Nyaaa?” (…Are you looking for me?)
I made eye contact with him. There was no one else around, and in good faith I approached him.
My intuition wasn’t wrong. A wide smile broke across the man’s face and he gently picked me up and hugged me. I wasn’t used to being held as an animal, but I was soothed by the sense of care and kindness in his hands. My long cat’s tail dangled below his arms.
“There you are,” he cooed at me.
“Nya.” (Yes.)
“Are you alone here?”
“Yaang.” (That’s right.)
The gentle touches continued. He stroked my fur, from the top of my head down to my back, then sat down on a bench. He placed me on his lap and then opened his bag.
“Do you want to eat?”
I looked inside the bag and saw a can of cat food and some ham. It was true that I experienced some hunger in this body, but I was getting used to the feeling and I didn’t want to accept anything from him. Not to mention having to deal with the aftermath of eating.
“Nii.” (No.)
“No? Why not? You’re not hungry?”
This time I nodded lightly. My tail twitched at the thought of someone who cared for me.
“Nyang.” (Yes.)
“…You understand me?”
“Nya!” (Yes!)
“I’ve heard that cats are smart, but I didn’t know they were this smart.” The man’s hand traced my neck. “I don’t think you have an owner…”
At that, I became upset. I didn’t have an owner of course, but that didn’t mean I was a stray. I wasn’t even a cat—I was human in the vessel of an angel of death. I couldn’t let him know that of course. I had promised to the angel of death not to say anything…
Once again I imagined the horrible things that would happen to me if I were caught. I had plenty of time to think when I was alone up here. A talking cat would probably end up being poked and prodded and dissected in a lab experiment. I would be a headline plastered on televisions and newspapers all over the world.
A shiver ran through me as I imagined people gawking at me in amazement. No matter how kind this man was, I had to stay a secret. I shouldn’t try to act too smart, and just act like a normal cat…but how smart was a normal cat? I didn’t really know.
The man put a hand to his chin in thought. “Come to think of it, I wonder why you’re alone here…who left you, kitty?”
“…Yaaang.” (It’s a secret.)
“Then shall we go home together? It’s too cold here.”
I was stunned by his offer and shook my head. No matter if I was in a cat’s body, I could not go home with a man who was practically a stranger. I struggled to escape his hold, and the man loosened his hands in surprise.
I bounded to the ground and took a few wary steps away from him. His expression turned crestfallen. I appreciated the pure kindness he showed me, but I couldn’t go home with him. Perhaps if I were a real cat, I might be happy to follow him.
“You don’t like the idea?” he said regretfully.
“Myang.” (Sorry.)
I gave a small cry and darted back into the bushes away from him.
“Kitty?” the man called out in a confused voice, but I went deeper into the thick trees.
Being alone was scary, and being alone on the streets was even scarier. But I could not be someone’s pet cat. I didn’t have the confidence to act like a normal animal.
“Kitty? Where are you, Kitty?”
He called out to me for a long time, but I didn’t crawl out from my hiding place. I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for him to leave.