The ancient Black Panther leaned close and whispered into his son's ear for a long while.
As he spoke, he took the opportunity to poke, pat, and draw invisible symbols across his son's face with great enthusiasm. When he finally pulled back, he asked solemnly,
"Do you understand?"
The old Black Panther stared at his father.
"Father… putting aside everything you just said about the Goddess, why did you write the word 'shock' all over my face?"
Faced with his son's complaint, the ancient Panther blinked innocently.
"How long has it been since you came to talk with me? I'm the youngest one here, you know. Do you have any idea how lonely that is?"
The old Black Panther's expression darkened instantly.
Thinking it over… his father wasn't wrong. Ever since his death, he had become the youngest among the ancestral spirits.
…Oh no.
The old king instinctively shrank his neck and glanced at the surrounding incarnations of past Panthers. Their silent gazes made his fur prickle.
The ancient Panther noticed and patted his son's shoulder reassuringly.
"Relax. If you think about it, you won't be the youngest forever. One day, your grandson will join us. And after that, your son."
Right.
That was comforting.
The old Black Panther nodded, finally feeling a little at ease. He turned to leave, then suddenly remembered something and looked back.
"Father… if I suddenly announce the Goddess's will for Wakanda to act, won't the other tribes question it?"
The ancient Panther reached out and smacked his son lightly on the head.
"You're hopeless. If I came to you, I'll naturally visit the other tribes' current leaders as well."
"Oh. Then there's nothing to worry about."
"Go back, my son. And remember, come visit me more often."
"Of course." On the surface, the old Black Panther agreed obediently.
Inside, he snorted.
No chance. You're the youngest here, if I visit more often, you'll feel even younger. I'll abdicate early and let my son deal with this instead.
As he walked away, another thought surfaced.
But which cub should inherit the throne?
The eldest was steady and reliable. The second was lively and bright.
…Both were excellent.
He sighed softly, deep in thought.
✦••┈┈••✦••┈┈••✦
The next morning, Garfield slowly woke up.
He opened his eyes and immediately felt uncomfortable.
The Wakandan bed was far too hard, wooden boards, linen sheets. Completely unacceptable.
His body was made of pure, premium-grade cat liquid. He required softness. Preferably something he could sink into.
Waking up did not mean getting up.
Garfield lay there, staring lazily at the ceiling. Even the lamp fixtures above were infused with vibranium.
So extravagant.
He thought about himself, then he thought about Wakanda.
Hmph.
If I marry my Goddess and bring her home… all this vibranium would count as dowry.
Satisfied with that thought, Garfield closed his eyes and rolled over.
His paw bumped into something soft.
Warm.
Fluffy.
Cat instincts activated instantly.
Garfield wrapped his arms around it and buried his face into the fur, falling back asleep instantly.
"Zzz…"
"Zzzzz…"
"Zzzzzzz…"
Even his snores came in rhythmic waves.
At the bedside, Shōkyū crouched silently.
She looked at the sleeping Garfield, then at how the sleeping Garfield was hugging the thing next to him.
A slow, dangerous smile appeared.
"You stinky cat." She muttered. "Just you wait until my sister wakes up."
She flicked her tail lazily.
Last night's fight with the black cat had worked wonders, her muscles felt loose, her chakra smooth.
It was a shame the opponent had been too strong. If the battle had stayed within local territory, she was confident she wouldn't have lost.
"Hmph." Shōkyū shot a sharp glare at Garfield… and at the other presence curled up beside him.
"Smelly cat."
Shōkyū, though essentially a Nine-Tails with terrifying intelligence, had spent years sealed in a dormant state.
Mentally, she was still very much a mischievous cub, one who loved chaos.
Her eyes spun with interest.
꧁𓊈𒆜༺⚜༻𒆜𓊉꧂
PhantomDream