I love cats.
Soft. Quiet. Low maintenance. Judgy in a comforting way.
After everything—cafés, schools, spinning boxes of doom—I just wanted a cozy companion who didn't talk, didn't worship me, and wouldn't start a cult because I gave it cheese.
So I went out to the edge of Menelvia, where the woods get shady and cool, and sat with a pouch of dried fish. If a cat showed up, great. If not, I'd eat the fish myself. Win-win.
Fifteen minutes later, a black cat slinked out of the brush like a shadow with confidence issues. It had shiny fur, one torn ear, and the general expression of someone permanently unimpressed with the world.
Perfect.
"Hey," I whispered, holding out a snack. "Want to come ruin my life with me?"
He took the fish and sat on my lap like he owned me.
I named him Kuro.
He came home with me, ate half my tuna stash, knocked a scroll off a shelf, and curled up in my favorite laundry basket. I was in love.
The next morning, everything was fine—until I took him out for some sun.
We were sitting on a bench near Reika's Rest Café, enjoying a gentle breeze, when a child spotted us.
"Lady Rika… is that your familiar?!"
"No," I said. "He's a cat."
"But he's black! With sharp eyes!"
"So are olives."
The kid ran off anyway. Twenty minutes later, a group of townsfolk showed up with offerings: dried sardines, a ribbon, and a very confused mouse in a cage.
"This is for the Archwitch's shadow beast," they said.
I blinked. "The what now?"
"Your companion spirit," they insisted. "The one who watches the realm with silent judgment and purrs omens into the night."
I looked down at Kuro.
He was licking his butt.
"Yep," I said flatly. "Very mysterious."
The town, naturally, overreacted.
They started leaving tiny scrolls at my door, all addressed to:
> Mistress Fluffshade, Oracle of Whiskers
High Meowstress
The Soft-Wrath Beast of Rika the Gentle
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
Lila stitched him a tiny cloak. Marius offered him a "sword of shadows" (it was a black spoon). Someone else brought a bird feather as a "tribute to the Night Tamer."
Kuro just napped on a pile of scrolls like a smug little meatloaf.
Of course, things got worse when he knocked over a candle during a rainstorm—pure accident—but the flash of lightning made it look like he summoned fire from the void.
I had to put out the rumor that he controls the weather.
I failed.
By the end of the week, people were asking Kuro for blessings. A baker swore her bread rose faster after he meowed at it. A farmer claimed his turnip crop doubled because Kuro walked across the field once.
Kuro now receives more snacks than I do.
There's even a hand-painted shrine in the alley behind the café featuring an extremely dramatic portrait of him with glowing eyes and a thundercloud background.
He peed on it.
Meanwhile, I've learned to accept it.
I mean, he's quiet, cuddly, and doesn't judge me for eating pudding at midnight. And if people want to believe I'm a powerful Archwitch with a cat advisor named "Fluffshade the Eternal"? Sure.
But between us?
He still sleeps in the laundry basket and steals my chair the second I stand up.