Catgirl System

The sun was inching toward the west, but for now the sky remained blue. A robin, perhaps searching for food for their young, preened their feathers a moment and then took off. Winging through the trees, swerving around a sharp briar, they eventually broke free from the woods and made it into a sort of clearing, a place of open air that was still short and humble compared to the oak trees all around.

Sadly, it was the worst decision of their life, because I was on that roof, and I was ready to spring for my prey.

With a Leap, I caught them mid-flight. They had just been arcing upward to try and escape me, but it was no use—we tumbled together onto Chora’s foamy exercise mat.

But the battle wasn’t over yet. We fought like a whirlwind or a cartoon Tasmanian devil, even plucking at each others’ hair and feathers. I clonked my head against the wooden roof-slash-floor. The bird shrieked as I revenge-clonked them against a dumbbell.

It was all so reminiscent of Earth that I hadn’t even remembered the existence of my other Skills…and maybe that would be the worst decision of my life, because the robin used one first.

A burst of orange-pink light cut across my vision, and before I knew what’d happened, a searing wound bit into my shoulder and side. My brain put it together for me: triangular energy shape + triangular-ish wound = probably a beak attack. I would call it…“Peck.”

HP: 82% (266/325)
SP: 27% (74/270)

Okay, time to get serious. Without another thought, I knew I had to activate Slash and feel that bright, almost bloodthirsty surge of power.

That was what I’d been missing during my outing with Reed and Bayce today: bloodthirstiness. Most humans didn’t consider themselves murderous even in Vencia, I guessed. And my current companions were downright peacemakers. It was actually shocking, in hindsight. I mean, the streets of my old home were dotted with roadkill. Things on Earth might’ve been different, obviously, if the roadkill in question weren’t tiny opossums and rabbits but more like elephant-sized monster carp, though…but you get my point, I think.

Yes, I’d gone hunting today. No, I wasn’t satisfied.

In the end, I slayed the robin with a dramatic Slash. Actually, all I had to do was activate the Skill—my paw was positioned so that simply switching it on sent a bolt of energy through. If that wasn’t cool, I didn’t know what was.

EXP: 61% (1286/2100)

HP: 55% (178/325)
SP: 46% (124/270)

In the wake of the tussle, a few brownish-black feathers wafted in the air and settled across the wood, calling to mind Step Two of Bayce’s cantrip instructions. First the scales, third the dust from the southern mountains…and in between, the black feathers. Did these count? Even a little?

I gathered them anyway. The mini-journey to do that took me all around the roof platform, which was a rectangular platform next to the actual, sloping, roof-shaped roof (but calling it the roof is more convenient).

It connected directly to Chora’s room via a hatch in her bedroom’s ceiling. To one side were her exercise mat, her weightlifting gear stacked neatly on a metal shelf, and even a little table with a tea kettle and set of simple porcelain cups. On the other side was a lot of empty space, but also a couple of rocking chairs. They’d fallen over, for some reason, a reason that had nothing to do with the fight I’d just had…nope, it sure didn’t…and if Chora saw that, she certainly would not think back with rage to the time I ripped up her ottoman. My reputation was so secure.

Without getting too grisly, I tore a fair amount of robin feathers off from the corpse before getting too tired and bored. I also ate one. I wasn’t sure why—it was nourishing, but it didn’t heal HP or SP.

Inventory: 5/5

Chora’s Crystal Ring

Debug Blade

Robin’s Feather x9
A normal, dark-brown feather. Certifiably not black.

Robin’s Feather x3
A normal, dark-brown feather. Certifiably not black.

Robin Corpse
Nourishing, but won’t heal HP or SP.

Rrgh. Rubbing up against the upper limit of my Inventory again, both in terms of item capacity and individual slot capacity. I’d only be keeping these feathers around until Bayce let me know whether any of them worked, judging with her human eyes, rather than these no doubt error-prone System eyes. Until then, they’d just be eating space.

Hm, wait…I could easily get someone to store my items. I did trust them that much. Plus, their den rug was already my bank vault, holding Heidschi’s letter perhaps in perpetuity.

Even though my items were cramped and my HP and SP were perhaps not the most beautiful, this battle had plucked up my spirits. In fact, nabbing that robin had made me determined to have a more actiony outing tomorrow. And if Reed and Bayce were kind of, well, babies about murder and death, then maybe the only person I could turn to was…

Opening the hatch right now! Chora’s head poked out from her bright bedroom. I practically wagged my tail at the sight of her.

When she saw me, her stoic face fell the slightest bit. Ah, I was standing in front of the still-knocked-over rocking chairs. Why couldn’t she believe that the wind had done that?

She swallowed her frustration by saying, “If you do not see fit to follow human norms of neatness and order, then who are we to judge…but, and I’m just putting it out there, the fact that you do turn into a humanoid sometimes gives us a different impression.”

Darn, the guilt…it got to me. I transformed in the blink of an eye and took hold of a chair. Fully aware that I was handling the thing like a not-so-professional wrestler botching a suplex, I did, nonetheless, get it upright again. Then I did the same to the other one, even clumsilier.

Then I spun on my heel and put on my winningest smile.

Chora didn’t look impressed…or unimpressed, either. May have been a good sign. “Not bad,” she said. “I can put them back in position later.”

Passive-aggression! I felt my face go pale. Now I could see that the chairs were sitting at angles that any human would find totally unacceptable. One was an inch away from falling off the roof, one was on the edge and facing outward—and one was so far from its starting position that it flattened the corner of Chora’s mat.

With a cat-bark, I ran, grabbed that chair, and marched it over to…to approximately kind of where it was at first, I hoped.

“It’s alright, cat spirit. Would you like anything from me? Tea? Votive candles?”

Since her hatch had been open for a little while now, the smells I recalled from that earlier visit with her, when she’d first donned that overdramatic monk’s hood, wafted back to me now.

I did have a request, and I was determined to make it a good one.

That is, if the laws of the universe (AKA Sierra) would let me enact it.

Message from Sierra, the Goddess of Nekomata
Oh, please. You’re so overdramatic sometimes. Have you even tried speaking since the first time you Evolved?

What? No! Why would I risk that kind of failure again? Especially with a speaking cantrip in my future?

Because some risks are worth it.

Well…in fairness, I did happen to be in my catgirl form right now, and Chora would be…not kind, exactly, but forgiving of any weird mistakes. So I decided to struggle out a word or two.

“Uh…ah.....I-I…h-h-hi.”

In response, Chora blinked.

I waved a little.

Oh geez, wait. It was kind of late in the meeting to be saying a greeting, right, I got it.

“Su…sssaaaaaurgh.”

“I accept your apology.”

She looked away for a moment.

“You…have a beautiful voice, cat spirit. I enjoy basking in it.”

Aw, she didn’t really mean that. I refused to accept it. I bet she’d searched her archives for a pre-prepared compliment as a means of drawing me out, of getting me to speak my needs more. Kinda like Sierra…

It’s as if we have your best interests at heart.

Blegh! Blegh!! So corny!!! (And from her, of all people!)

Plainly “hi” and “sorry” had never been the long questions or requests I wanted to make, but the stress of having to speak had made everything coherent slip out of my mind, along with the effort. At least Chora got the message okay enough.

Enough human stuff for now. I poofed back into cat form, then got into serious pantomime mode. With my paws, I drew a rectangle on the floor. Then I put both paws together and moved them herkily-jerkily around the rectangle.

“You want to talk with the spirit board,” she confirmed.

I nodded. It was good to be surrounded by people who no doubt had higher Intelligence Stats than me. (Well…I wasn’t sure about Bayce sometimes, but hey, school had to be good for something.)

She ducked back into her room, and I followed. Seeing the ladder stretching down gave me a brief shock. I stepped down rung by rung with care. The ladder was only at a slight angle, with wide enough gaps between rungs that it probably wasn’t work-safe, and I felt as stretched as a sausage with every step.

Then the hatch was closed, with late-day sunlight still beaming in. Chora’s room seemed to combine both of the times I’d been here before: the scorchingly bright white walls and decorations, and the aromas of the holy and the dead.

Opening her closet, Chora shifted and soon brought out the familiar board and glass triangle. Then we were sitting face-to-face, just like old times…I mean, old time, singular.

We both knew the routine. Chora asked me what I wanted as a prelude, but it was a mere exalted formality. I slowed down my breathing, set my paws on the glass, and it began.

Please, Sierra, give us a question that applies to what I actually want…

Shift, shift, shift. Then a pause. The first question was over, and Chora’s hand hurried across her notebook.

Chora read aloud: “Where is the deadliest black-winged bird in the Vencian Wood?”

A perplexed finger went up to her chin.

Weird question, and at the same time it was just what I most wanted right now. If I could get Bayce’s second ingredient while also scoring an astounding kill, I’d be, yep, killing two birds with one stone. I only wished I’d added, “And make sure the bird isn’t a revered great spirit or anything.”

At first I worried that Chora might be confused or just clueless about this subject, but eventually she replied.

“There are some magpies in the area, yeah. And they can be pests. They live right on the border between the Vencian Wood and a village, west of us. They’ll steal locals’ things. Some of their crimes are blamed on spirits, but if you ask me, I would suspect that they’re in league with spirits, and possibly evil ones at that. People say they have a stockpile of all their stolen goods, somewhere around here. All rumor.”

Hm…this was the kind of story that made me feel like a questing ranger. Evil magpies that nobody had even bothered to stop by now? With a huge cache of treasure? Was Chora kidding me right now? These Vencians must’ve been weaklings beyond my comprehension, because I had to be strong enough to pound those magpies flat. Even if I were still Level 1, I’d have a special Treasure-hunting ability that made me perfectly suited to case the place and find the missing goods.

Awesome. Amazingly good response, Chora. The only thing that would’ve made it better would be a big magpie boss or spirit-puppetmaster to target, but I could find that puzzle piece on my own, I figured.

It sure sounded worthy of a Quest to me.

Quest: Find the Magpies’ Treasure Cache

Rewards:
+Bonus EXP!
+250 Gold!
+An Exotic Vase!

Nice! Except the vase? I-I mean, I wasn’t complaining, but…

That settled that. My mind was already working hard on plans for the next day. Now I settled my body down as much as I could, given all that excitement, and set my paws on the glass again.

Question two…

Ah, the smell from downstairs reached me as the triangle moved. The smoke! Somebody, or maybe somebodies, were frying the fish I’d caught down there. My mouth watered. So would my eyes, soon, despite the closed door. Chora was already taking out a handkerchief and dabbing at her face.

—Question two! Look alive, Chora!

She blinked the tears back and scratched out my next sentence:

“Would anyone like to see my golden sword of prophecy?”

She paused.

Even after writing this one down, she didn’t seem to believe she’d written it out correctly. Did it sound too weird? Was it the concept, or just the rhyme?

Even after writing this one down, she didn’t seem to believe it. Or was it more that it sounded too weird?

“Could you…would you mind repeating that?” she said. But the glass beneath my paws didn’t budge.

She wouldn’t say a thing, so I showed her the sword to let her know it was real. It blustered onto the spirit board, and I was glad I’d at least shunted the glass piece away. With a clang and a rattle, the Debug Blade made landfall. It was just as glorious here as it had been in the late afternoon sun.

Chora had scrambled out of the way, knees up, stare intense, and she’d crabwalked about halfway across the room in fright and suspicion. Then the fright in her eyes died out. All that remained in her face was a profound and obvious “YES.”