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The first life
Nayeon is six and the queen of carrot flowers, fearlessly traversing across uncharted territory with nothing but a sword in hand. The sword in question is an old and blunt weeding tool begrudgingly entrusted to her by her mother, and the battlefield her garden. The sun beats down mercilessly on her tired back, sweat beading at her temples. Nayeon, red-faced and huffing, impatiently brushes away the errant hair sticking to her forehead – explorers did not give up so easily. She was here on a quest, one of utmost importance: pulling weeds from her mother’s vegetable garden.
Sana is five, grappling with the unpredictability of being a shapeshifter. One moment she’s human, the next a startled cat. Her father tells her it gets easier with time, that she’ll learn to phase in and out of her different forms with better control and less trouble. Today she’s a ginger kitten deftly perched on the wall of Nayeon’s garden, watching curiously as Nayeon yells in triumph each time a weed succumbs to a grisly fate by pudgy hands.
But even the bravest, most skilled of explorers are no match for the elements. Nayeon flops down on the grass eventually, defeated by the unrelenting sun. The weeds would live another day, it seemed. It was then, panting, face turned away from the glaring sunlight that Nayeon noticed another presence – a little ginger cat staring back at her.
“Here kitty kitty,” Nayeon coos gently, patting the ground to coax the kitten towards her. Sana obliges, albeit a little hesitant as she hops off the stone wall and approaches Nayeon. Her father had warned her to always be careful when wandering in case she was mistaken for a stray and taken away. Yet, something about Nayeon’s toothless smiles told her it was going to be safe.
Nayeon is delighted at the newfound acquaintanceship. She shifts into a squat, enthusiastically patting the kitten’s head and scratching beneath its chin. Her hand smells a lot like wet grass, Sana thinks. How sweet.
“You’re such a tiny little baby,” Nayeon whispers, leaning closer to peer curiously at the kitten’s slitted eyes that catch the sunrays.
It happens in a flash then, quicker than six-year old Nayeon can blink. The kitten disappears, Nayeon’s small fingers closing around the empty air. In its place is a frowning stranger. Nayeon yelps, falling over herself trying to push Sana out of the way. “Move! You’re sitting on a baby cat!”
Sana’s frown deepens, arms crossing with childish indignance. “I am the cat, and I’m not a baby!”
“What?”
Sana sighs and stands, dusting soil off her shorts before gesturing to the grass where she had sat. There’s an age-old maturity to the way she carries herself, back straight and graceful where Nayeon is still a child fumbling to learn the full extent of her fine motor abilities, like how she struggles to spread almond butter evenly on her toast in the mornings. “See?" Sana almost sounds haughty, if not for the charming grin she has on her face. "No cat. The cat was me. And I’m five, not a baby.”
"Okay," Nayeon says, simple and accepting, with a soft laugh and missing front teeth. She's at that magical age where fairies turn teeth into shiny dollar coins under her pillow overnight, where rosy-cheeked men in red slide down chimneys bearing gifts and noses grow an inch each time you tell a lie. Nothing seems impossible, even if a girl turns into a cat or a cat turns into a girl. "Teach me how to do that."
Sana shakes her head, a teasing smile stretched across her face. "Papa says only special people can."
Nayeon, never used to rejection, stands and defiantly tucks sweaty strands of hair out of her face and behind her little ears. "I’m special, look-" she grunts, spontaneously performing a half-decent cartwheel to prove herself worthy. She forgets, in her haste to show off, that she's wearing a yellow sundress, and it flops down over her head to reveal a pair of bright pink hello kitty undies. When Nayeon’s feet plant themselves on the ground once again and her dress is set right, Sana is beside herself with laughter.
"I’ll tell you what," Sana gasps with laughter. "I can't teach you but we'll be friends, okay?"
"Okay, my name is Nayeon." she's embarrassed still, flushed scarlet to the tips of her ears, but she wipes the dirt off her hands and gingerly shakes the one that Sana thrusts out towards her. Sana’s hands are soft, warm like gentle sunlight and smaller than Nayeon’s. "I’m Sana."
Their hands fit snugly together, and they share a few firm shakes over a look of bright-eyed wonder. There's something that they've established here, a companionship of sorts taking root as the sunlight fades to shadows in this humble vegetable garden full of unripe tomatoes and half-grown broccoli heads.
The fact remains that they're virtual strangers, and that Sana has just hopped off the garden wall as a cat and sat up in the grass patch as a little girl. But they're young – full of childlike innocence – and the world is a spectacular thing, taking kindly to small children who believe that anything is possible.
After all, what's not to like about a little magic?
-
The second life
"I think you're my keeper," Sana says one day when they're walking to the corner store after school. She's been saving her allowance for a week now, so there's just enough change in her pocket for an ice cream.
"What's that?"
Nayeon, being the older one, is busy looking out for cars before they cross the street.
"Like a keeper of my secret. You're supposed to protect me. Papa says all shapeshifters have a human keeper."
There's a hand against the small of Sana’s back, guiding her forward into the now empty road.
"Okay, I’m your keeper," Nayeon doesn't even bat an eyelash, maybe because she's still too young to understand what it means. "I've always been protecting you anyway."
They get a grape-flavoured popsicle, and take turns alternating licks which is definitely not hygienic but is the least of their worries. There are bigger concerns, things like–
"We need more money for ice cream," Sana declares, shaking her head sorrowfully at the sky once they've licked the popsicle down to the stick and Nayeon is busy sucking the last dregs of grape flavouring out of it.
There's no reply, only the startling grip of Nayeon’s hand on the back of Sana’s uniform, hauling her back to the safety of the curb as a bicycle zips past.
-
"I have a proposition," Nayeon says. Proposition, which is a big word she had learned in school. She's laying in bed with Sana now and they're staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to her baby blue ceiling, except it's only late afternoon and the stars are still nothing but dull pieces of plastic.
They're in middle school – Sana’s eleven and Nayeon twelve, and her mother says she's too old to be having glow-in-the-dark decorations anymore. Sana remains obstinate, because she's always been sentimental, and there are fond memories she has of arguing with Nayeon over the placement of the stars.
They didn't speak to each other for a week after the argument until Nayeon, tired of the animosity, had brought over strawberry cake and sheepishly complimented the decor of Sana’s room.
They're best friends, evidently. It's a simple way to put into words the relationship that they have, although Sana likes to throw around big words like fate. After all, Nayeon meets Sana, a snotty-nosed first grader sitting alone at playtime, and the first thing she says is Hey, I know you! Pretty telling, isn't it? Or creepy. Anyway, they've been inseparable ever since.
Murder on the orient express is laid out on the bed between the two. Their fingers lace together over its dog-eared yellowing pages, bent spine digging into the sides of their hands. It's way overdue back at the library, but they haven't finished reading and Nayeon promises Sana that the library fine won't be so bad if they split it between them.
"It's about our after-school ice cream fund," Nayeon continues, serious as she always is when matters of great importance like the ice cream fund is brought up. "We could be like Hercule Poirot, you know, investigating stuff! For money!"
Sana giggles at the absurd suggestion, eyes leaving the plastic stars on her ceiling for a second to meet Nayeon’s across the space of her bed. "We don't know how to investigate anything."
"I suppose not," Nayeon muses, but then a fresh thought strikes her and she rolls closer to where Sana is, the poor book's spine bending further when Nayeon’s weight presses it deeper into the mattress.
There's earnestness shining in the way she smiles, as if she's proud of her sudden brainstorm. "We have you! You could turn into a cat and spy on people. That way we could totally solve anything."
And then, because they're nothing but impulsive middle schoolers with a particular fondness for after-school ice cream, Sana agrees. The last three chapters of murder on the orient express are ditched in favour of A4 sheets of paper and Nayeon’s proud collection of fifty sharpie markers.
The result after hours of spirited designing are a stack of thirty hand drawn flyers reading Nayeon and Sana: Neighbourhood Investigators in bubble font. Around the headlines are flowers and cats that Sana had drawn in assorted colours, while Nayeon filled in the boring administrative details like email addresses as a means of contact and service charges. The flyers each end off with a bottom line of text – We're the answer to all your troubles!
They set out when the sun disappears behind a large cloud and it's not so bright out, two girls riding down the street on yellow bikes with flyers and copious amounts of tape. Sana thinks its cruel to staple flyers to the trunks of trees because they watched The Lorax three days ago, and she now considers herself a passionate ambassador for the environment.
Their first customer comes after a week of radio silence. By then, most of their flyers have become nothing but wrinkled paper with colourful streaks of sharpie ink running down its length – a result of alternating showers and sunshine throughout the week.
"It's from Mrs Yoo," Sana reads off the screen of her computer, open to Nayeon’s email account. Nayeon is making snow angels on her carpet with her socks still on. "She says someone has been making a mess out of her trash at night and she wants us to find out who."
-
It's supposed to be easy.
Supposed to be – but Sana, however terrible as a human, is ten times lazier as a cat. I can't help it, she defends. There's a look of petulance cast over her pretty face, after Nayeon confronts her when their third stakeout fails because Sana had once again fallen asleep among Mrs Yoo's tulip garden. It's just so comfortable, Nayeonnie. You should try.
And Nayeon does, because Sana’s pout can get Nayeon to do all sorts of things, even though staying human means laying on her stomach on a bed of cold and wet soil doesn't yield the same pleasure that Sana so reverently describes.
"This is so gross," Nayeon complains, slapping at her thigh when she thinks she feels yet another bug crawling across her pale skin. She eyes her partner – a purring ragdoll this time, scoffing when she sees that Sana is once again falling asleep. Her hand reaches out of its own accord, tenderly scratching under her chin. "Sleep, my Sana. I’ll stay awake for us."
Sana purrs and shifts closer, eyes already slipping closed when she tucks herself into the crook of Nayeon’s neck where her small breaths hit. And she sleeps.
But the nap, no matter how blissful, doesn't last very long. Sana’s eyes open once more at the slightest shift in Nayeon’s posture a mere six and a half minutes later.
"Shhh," Nayeon warns not so subtly, a finger over her lips. Sana blinks up at her lazily, thinking to herself that Nayeon’s shushing alone is louder than any sound she could possibly make as a cat. "There's someone there."
Sure enough, there's a figure dressed in a hoodie and bicycle shorts picking apart the knot on one of the trash bags.
Sana shifts back to her human form, once again a middle schooler, and in an act of foolish bravery they burst out of the tulip patch with something akin to a war cry. The culprit pauses in the midst of swinging a bag of trash around the lawn and turns at the sound. When the streetlight hits the figure's face, it turns out to be none other than Yoo Jeongyeon. Defacing her own home!
"I knew it!" Sana cries, although she most definitely did not. It just seemed like the right thing to say in the heat of the moment. "Yea," Nayeon supplies helpfully, brandishing a long twig she had picked up off the ground. The adrenaline of a successful stakeout was making her brave. "We caught you. And it's two against one so don't try anything funny."
In Nayeon’s head they march Jeongyeon up her own doorstep and hand her over to Mrs Yoo to watch the drama unfold, but what actually happens is much, much better.
"Don't tell my mom," Jeongyeon begs, already sheepishly picking up bits of trash strewn across the grass and stuffing them back into crumpled trash bags. "She confiscated my PlayStation and I was mad."
"How much will you pay for our silence?" Nayeon, of course, is the spokesperson of their two-man agency. She isn't even really expecting any kind of money from Jeongyeon – it's nothing more than a rehearsed line she had learnt from movies.
"Forty-nine bucks," brags Jeongyeon, chest puffing out ever so slightly. "That's not even half of my savings."
"Fifty bucks so Sana and I can split it nicely," Nayeon also spontaneously decides to be the negotiator of the group.
Jeongyeon deflates then, all the pride seeping away. "That's half of my savings."
"We'll help you investigate too," Sana bargains, with zero regard for the lack of ethics involved in double-crossing Mrs Yoo. Business was business. "We'll find out where your mom's hiding your PlayStation."
Jeongyeon beams, lopsided and mischievous.
"Okay," she agrees, and like middle schoolers do, they hook their pinkies together to seal the deal.
("Do you think we were bad for lying to Mrs Yoo?"
After all, the betrayal of an adult's trust is always a grand event in a child's life.
They're in Nayeon’s room this time, under a poorly-constructed blanket fort that has become a permanent fixture. Nayeon’s counting the coins and Sana the notes. Exactly half of Yoo Jeongyeon’s savings in exchange for highly classified information regarding the whereabouts of her confiscated PlayStation.
Of course, as far as Mrs Yoo is concerned, there's been wild raccoons digging through her trash. Wild raccoons which have been miraculously chased away overnight, but the technicalities didn't matter as much as fifty bucks did.
"No we weren't," Nayeon says after some consideration, and she lurches forward clumsily to place a feather-light kiss between Sana’s brows, across all of their ice cream money laid out on the wood-panelled floor. She doesn't like Sana to worry. "Hercule Poirot would have done the same thing.")
-
The third life
They're in high school this time, and Sana is a girl with a secret.
"I have a secret," she says matter of factly, eyes shining in the shadows. It smells of rain and rusty metal under the bleachers.
Nayeon’s busy fixing her skirt after Sana finally gets her hand out from under it, distracted when she replies, "I think I know."
Sana loosens her school tie. Soft fingers curl under Nayeon’s chin, tipping it upwards so that Nayeon is face to face with Sana grabbing all of her attention once more.
She leans in, gives Nayeon a kiss that tastes of the apple juice they shared over lunch before stepping back. There's surely something to be said about the fact that Sana has just had her hands under Nayeon’s uniform skirt as they make out behind the bleachers, but really, there isn't much to it except that it was probably inevitable.
"Watch this anyway," Sana whispers, saccharine smile blinding and one eyebrow cocked cheekily as she shrugs off her school blazer. Half of Nayeon’s dress shirt is still left untucked. There's something untold that hangs in the centimetres of space between their faces.
Sana takes another step back and lifts the blazer to cover her face, disappearing the moment her right foot touches the grass. Ta da, the rush of wind that comes after seems to whisper. It seems like magic in its quietest form, leaving no trace behind but the blazer that falls to the ground with a rustle of withered leaves. And something else.
Nayeon laughs, face scrunching with a fond smile as she circles over to where the other girl had been standing. There, under the fallen blazer is a writhing lump. None of this is a surprise, merely a familiar memory from a faraway lifetime.
"You're stuck huh?" she teases, watching as the lump begins to inch forward unsteadily, blazer dragging along on top of it. She picks up the jacket with a laugh.
From beneath the blazer emerges not someone to answer Nayeon’s question but a white persian cat with a long tail that winds itself languidly around her ankles.
"Pretty," Nayeon breathes, warm breath misting in the cool air. Sana purrs as Nayeon reaches down to scratch the top of her head, muddy paws leaving splotchy brown prints when she stretches up against Nayeon’s thigh.
"Aren't you pretty?" Nayeon asks once more, this time singsongingly as she reaches down to pick Sana up. She darts away before Nayeon gets a firm grip around her body, across the football field and out of the school fence, stirring up flecks of damp soil in its wake that splatter across Nayeon’s white school socks.
Nayeon can't help but laugh, alone again under the bleacher. Sana doesn't come back. She waits until the bell signalling the end of lunch break rings before trudging through the damp field back to the classroom.
Sana does, however, send Nayeon a text in the middle of her math class: im fine btw <3 come over later
Nayeon reads the text under her desk as discreetly as she can manage, fingers tapping quickly to reply: make me a sandwich and I’ll consider
She slides her phone under her skirt when the teacher walks past her desk, eyebrows raised critically at the stupid grin Nayeon sports on her face as she pretends to pore over her textbook.
Her phone buzzes against her thigh. It's Sana again: anything for you <3
-
"I can't believe you just left," Nayeon complains when the front door opens, even before her shoes come off her feet. She shrugs her backpack off in the hallway, right by Sana's school shoes. "You dirtied my socks by the way." Sure enough, the splatters of mud have crusted by now, rusty brown splotches against white cotton. Sana rolls her eyes. No apology, but her eyes are so bright and her smile so sweet.
There's a glass of orange juice and a ham sandwich waiting on Sana's dresser table.
Nayeon makes herself at home as she always does, skirt riding high up her thighs as she props her legs up on the dresser. A quarter of the sandwich is gone in one enthusiastic bite.
"You remember don't you? The last time we met?" Sana asks. Nayeon watches, scandalised, as she takes the first sip of orange juice.
"That's mine–" she complains, making grabby hands for the glass of juice and flashing Sana with an eyeful of chewed up sandwich. "Yes, I remember. Hercule Poirot. After-school ice cream. All that stuff."
Sana seems pleased. "Right, that was the second time."
Nayeon doesn't know where this is going. She takes a sip of orange juice. It has pulp, just the way she likes.
"Well, I can shapeshift into cats right? And there's that old proverb about cats having nine lives except it's not really just a proverb, so like, you see what I’m trying to say?"
Sana is facing her in her lap, forearms thrown over either side of Nayeon’s shoulders and fingers laced together at the nape of her neck. She's waiting for an answer.
Nayeon makes a funny face, wishing for once that she didn't know Sana like the back of her hand. Maybe then she could pretend she didn't understand what Sana was getting at. "What happens after the ninth life then?"
"I don't know," Sana sighs. It feels like they're still too young to be talking about this. She brushes a thumb over the swell of Nayeon’s cheek, before her restless fingers shift downwards to fix the messy knot of Nayeon’s tie even though school is over for the day. "I suppose I’d just stop existing."
The silence is long and loud. There's bits of sandwich stuck at the back of Nayeon’s teeth where her tongue can't quite reach to dislodge. She thinks of the six long lives they have ahead of them. Nayeon and Sana, finding themselves together over and over. It doesn't seem enough.
Finally, Nayeon sets down the plate, empty save for the crumbs of her sandwich. Sana presses in for a hug now that there's nothing between them, the gravity of their combined weight almost tipping the chair over if not for Nayeon grabbing onto the edge of Sana’s dresser just in time to right herself.
The glass of orange juice is half full, with just the right amount of pulp all settling near the bottom. It's hard to think of a world without Sana.
"That's okay," Nayeon decides, and breathes in the fruity scent of body mist. Sana’s having that phase where she goes to Bath and Body Works once a week looking for something new and exciting to buy. "We have so many forevers, still."
-
The fourth life
There's a moment where Nayeon thinks it's the right time, when they fall over themselves laughing at an old memory from eighth grade. Sana had gotten the first prize in the school science fair and tripped over her shoelaces going up on stage. So much for having cat-like reflexes.
It's a moment like this, when they're breathless, cheeks ruddy from laughing so hard, and their eyes find one another across the table. Time slows and Nayeon’s world shrinks to fit just Sana, everything else so insignificant compared to the girl sitting in front of her.
"Hey Sana," Nayeon’s voice wavers.
Sana hums in response, doesn't think twice as she brushes a lock of stray hair out of Nayeon’s face and tucks it behind her ear, thumb lingering on her cheek. It's an action so familiar that Nayeon doesn't blink or flinch, but Sana’s cold fingertips spark something under her skin that makes her hold her breath.
Here, with Sana’s hand on her cheek, Nayeon feels all too much. A million things run through her mind at once, it's hard to figure out which to say.
I love you.
Remember when I said your braces made you look like a dork? I lied. You're the prettiest girl i've ever seen. The prettiest girl in this entire McDonald’s but how do I tell you this?
I wish I had forever to spend with you.
Sana’s still waiting, eyes shining expectantly in the way that they always do because she's Sana and god forbid she ever looks at Nayeon (or anyone, for that matter) without her eyes sparkling. It's ridiculous really, how Sana is so effortlessly lovable and pretty and kind and–
"What is it? Is there something on my face?"
Yea, Nayeon thinks. You have a whole lot of pretty on your face.
"Nothing, you were a nerd for tripping." she snorts instead, then adds as an afterthought, "And for even winning the science fair."
Sana shrieks in defiance and launches over the table to tackle a laughing Nayeon, their shared fries tipping all over the tray.
Just like this, the moment passes.
-
"I didn't know you had a cat," Mina says, and Nayeon swivels around in her chair to give the cat in question a hard stare. "Hey kitty."
Sana, now a fat little british shorthair with its hackles slightly raised, hisses and swats at Mina’s outstretched hand.
Nayeon clicks her tongue, frowns with a warning shake of her head. Sana backs off, if only for Nayeon’s sake. Still, she can't help squeezing in one last bit of childlike pettiness, deliberately walking all over the keyboard of Mina’s laptop with her dainty paws so that Mina’s lab report is now punctuated with chunks of incomprehensible text. Something like dsvjfrwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. It's pretty decent poetry for a cat.
Nayeon doesn't share the sentiment, unfortunately, and Sana gets carried off onto the bed, twisting and yowling with her paws reaching for the back of Mina’s head. She's only subdued when Nayeon kisses the space between her eyes. A purr rumbles deep in her throat.
"I think she likes you," Sana says sourly, when Mina has left and she's free to sit on the desk with her legs swinging back and forth. Nayeon giggles. There's nothing much to be said to that.
"Do you like her too?" Sana prods, face swimming into view, disarming in ways that Nayeon will never understand.
"Yes," Nayeon answers simply, once again swivelling around in her chair because it's easier to lie than to tell your friend you're in love with her.
When Nayeon turns back around, an "I’m just kidding" on the tip of her tongue, Sana is gone. She barely catches the brief flash of a grey tail disappearing out of her open window.
-
"Papa told me shapeshifters share a special bond with their human keepers."
"Yea? What kind?" Nayeon swats at a butterfly when it flits too close for her liking. Sana’s eyes are closed, a smile playing on her lips.
"There are some old stories that say we can project our shapeshifting ability on them, but it's supposedly very difficult to." Sana shrugs, stifling a yawn. "I guess it depends how strong the bond is."
The grass itches under her fingertips. "So you can turn me into a cat?" Nayeon watches unashamedly when Sana shuts her eyes with a hum of assent, gradually falling asleep beside her.
Nayeon is as human as ever, worlds apart from her. She wonders what it would be like to be a cat. She daydreams, thinking of a world where she can see everything through Sana’s eyes.
“I can feel you staring.” Sana complains, voice is soft and lilting, startling Nayeon out of her reverie. The older girl huffs out a low laugh and turns away to study the sky. “I thought you were asleep.”
“I was,” Sana confirms, eyes wide open now. She shifts to lie on her side instead, where the grass tickles her skin. It’s a little uncomfortable but she chooses to focus on the way the setting sun casts a muted orange glow on her best friend’s face. “What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing,” Nayeon’s cheeks lift in a tiny smile. She feels Sana’s gaze on her but doesn’t turn to look, wants to prolong this feeling. She stares at the clouds instead, eyelids fighting against the sunlight as they drift slowly along with the breeze. She thinks she sees a cat in one of the small tufts of white. It's a sweet summer evening, infectious in a way that makes you want to sing. “I was just wondering what kind of person you were when you were young. Before we met.”
“I was obsessed with space when I was a kid,” Sana confesses with a laugh. That's new. “I could name you all of Jupiter’s 79 moons in alphabetical order right now, starting from Adrastea.”
Nayeon giggles, and Sana can practically hear Nayeon’s voice in her head teasing her for being a nerd the way she always does. “I really liked dinosaurs.”
Of course stupid Nayeon would have a stupidly cute obsession like dinosaurs.
When Nayeon finally looks over, Sana swears her heart swells at the sight, thumping madly against her ribs. Her best friend's eyes curve into little crescents whenever she smiles, the same way a moon waxes and wanes from its place in the sky.
Nayeon shifts on her side too then, so that they’re facing one another, ignoring the way her bangs flop down towards the ground. Sana fights the urge to fix them for her, imagines instead that they’re the only two people on the moon and Nayeon’s bangs never fall out of place because there’s so little gravity up there.
“The Parasaurolophus was one of my favourites because I always thought they looked a little funny.” Nayeon says, and sticks her neck out, purses her lips to imitate the dinosaur’s long beak. Her hand perches on her head, facing backwards to form the dinosaur’s hollow crest.
She roars, rolls over and pretends to try to eat Sana. Sana screams, kicks out because she’s ticklish and Nayeon is relentless, nuzzling the sides of her tummy with her pretend beak.
“Just kidding, they were herbivores.”
Nayeon grins goofily and Sana feels it, feels her stomach flutter and dip in somersaults because Nayeon’s smile is surely a sight to rival Jupiter’s tumultuous cloud bands, which she had believed were the prettiest things in existence until she ran into Nayeon’s open locker door in sixth grade.
She had knocked out with a concussion immediately but woke up minutes later to Nayeon fanning her face with a makeshift fan which consisted of three pink detention slips.
Late and late and late yet again.
Sana had squeezed her eyes shut immediately, wondering if she was dead because surely the girl standing over her was an angel?
“Hey,” a sudden surge of courage fills Sana. Maybe she’ll tell Nayeon that she’s been in love with her for years. Maybe loving your best friend isn’t the worst thing out there, and maybe, just maybe, she loves you back and everything will be okay. But it's always difficult, no matter how many times they've been through this.
Nayeon hums, waiting for Sana to continue. The courage leaves her as quick as it had come. She smiles, ignoring the fatal throb in her chest. “Did you know that Saturn can float on water?”
“What?” Nayeon’s eyes widen. “A whole planet? No way.”
Yes way, Sana thinks. It's the same way you make me feel so full yet so light.
What she says is this, serious and unwavering even if the words slip out of her mouth without a filter, "I could kiss you right now."
Something blooms in her chest, like a veil lifting between them, and Sana knows without asking that Nayeon wants it too.
Nayeon is pretty when she looks like this, eyes shining and lips slightly open as if daring Sana to make the first move. "Okay," she whispers past the lump in her throat, her mask of bravado slipping to make way for innocent wonder as Sana rolls over to straddle her hips.
"I've waited so long," Sana murmurs against Nayeon’s lips, and she swears she can feel their poor lovesick hearts stuttering along in tandem.
Kissing Nayeon feels like falling into a pool of cold water. It's jarring and messy with desperation, until Sana presses both hands lightly onto either side of Nayeon’s face. Slowly, she seems to say, kissing Nayeon deeper and licking into the warmth of her mouth.
Kissing Nayeon feels like falling into bed after a long day, like coming home.
-
The fifth life
It begins in the summer, with longer days and shorter nights and the heat of the sun finding every nook and cranny to bury itself in.
Nayeon’s stable is no exception. It is a humid thing this time of the year, flies buzzing around impatient horses that repeatedly shift their weight from one foot to the other. She would have to give them sponge baths soon.
Heat waves seem to press down on the earth, blistering Nayeon’s feet through the soles of her sandals, and the occasional handfuls of cold water Sana playfully flicks at her face provide a short respite. It's easier to breathe, in that second.
"Do it again," Nayeon implores, wagging her brows as drops of water dribble down the swell of her cherry lips to her chin. They pool there, hanging on for a brief second before falling to the dry soil beneath their feet. Sana traces their path from Nayeon’s features down to the dusty earth.
"Water is precious," chides Sana, though her slender fingers move to scoop another handful out of a basin. Nayeon shuts her eyes and waits for the cold.
Later, when Sana complains about kisses that are too wet, Nayeon only smiles back with crinkled eyes. "It's hot," she answers, thumb swiping at the shine of water on Sana’s left cheek. There's a bead of sweat glistening at her temple. "Eggs could fry in their shells."
Heat has a way of making everything feel sluggish, and a princess, no matter how well taught the ways of regality, is no exception to this strange phenomenon. The sun treats everyone the same, you see.
Nayeon is too kind for her own good, shoulders a bigger burden than she should by promising not to tell anyone when Sana shifts into a Russian blue with a shimmering silver coat. Then again, she's been keeping Sana’s secrets for far longer than this.
"Too hot," Sana murmurs, just before the ground rushes up to meet her newly shrunken feline form.
A satisfied purr bubbles up in Sana’s throat as she begins to lick herself with a frenzy. It's very cooling for cats – Nayeon had learnt this many summers ago, and now, with practiced ease, she dampens a clean cloth with the basin's cold water to wipe Sana’s fur down.
Shapeshifting, no matter how much Sana begs and pleads, is forbidden by the king.
No daughter of mine is a witch, he says with finality, and sends in all sorts of exorcists and spiritual healers from across the land to lift Sana of her 'curse'. It never works of course, although Nayeon is privy to all the ghastly things Sana has had done to her. There are scars on her body tucked away in hidden places where her corsets and dresses will not reveal, blood occasionally drained from small nicks in her skin as experts claim to leech the evil spirits out of her.
“Be careful,” Nayeon urges later, when Sana is back to human and adjusting the waistband of her riding pants. “The king will have my neck and yours if you get caught.”
“My father would have your neck for far worse things than me turning into a cat.” Sana giggles and steps closer, hands finding their place on the curve of Nayeon’s waist. "Imagine what he would think of me having a romp in the stables with the stable hand."
The next thing Nayeon knows the crown princess has her backed up against a wooden post, hands sliding under her shirt and fingers swiping at warm skin in a manner most unbecoming of a royal.
"We're not having a ro–" her protests are cut off when Sana nips harshly at her bottom lip, just shy of drawing blood.
“I’m supposed to protect you," Nayeon scolds half-heartedly, exhaling with an affectionate sigh all while stealing a few more kisses.
They're nothing if not indulgent, eager to test the limits of the universe's kindness.
-
It’s a long walk down. Nayeon already has two horses saddled up, tails flicking erratically as she brushes their mane.
"You're fashionably late," Nayeon calls, shielding her face from the sun with her free hand.
She barely dodges an apple flying at her face, courtesy of Sana.
“Hey, watch it, those are for my horses.” She warns, bending to pick the apple up and shining it against her wrinkled shirt before putting it aside. “Think you can get up on that horse without my help today, Princess?”
Sana scoffs. She's always been more than capable.
They ride to an open clearing in the woods. The place has become somewhat of a sanctuary for the two, a private space shut away from the rest of the world where Sana can prance around in the tall grass as Nayeon chases her around. There are plenty of dragonflies here, zipping between wildflowers and daffodils.
Sana vanishes suddenly, leaves Nayeon spinning around in circles and parting the grass in search of her.
"That's not fair!" she complains, until a silver cat jumps out at her, nails clinging to the front of her shirt as she stumbles backwards from the momentum. When Nayeon’s back hits the ground, Sana is human once again, a hundred pounds of flesh and bone in her arms knocking the breath out of her lungs.
"The summer ball is coming up," Sana says in between gasps to catch her breath, and Nayeon can only lean in closer when the princess meets her eyes. Wordlessly, Nayeon picks out blades of dry grass stuck in her long hair.
"I can't," Nayeon cuts in before Sana can get the question out. "I’m just a stable hand, you know I can't go."
"It's a masquerade ball," comes the reply from Sana. The tip of her nose ghosts the shell of Nayeon’s ear when she whispers. "Come and dance with me."
Nayeon has never really learnt to say no to the princess.
-
Sana is easy to find.
Her mask is diamond-studded, glittering like sunlight off water as she descends the grand stairwell and moves swiftly through the crowd. Palms reach out, offered up to Sana as she passes – an invitation to dance.
Nayeon is even easier to find, if one knew her the way Sana did.
The stable hand shuffles in a corner, seeming noticeably out of place only if you take a closer look. It's her first time in the ballroom, exuberantly decorated rococo-style and large enough to fit a thousand horses. The high, arched ceiling painted with quadratura and towering, marble pillars with intricate stucco mouldings put Nayeon’s humble stable to shame. She keeps her head low with a mixture of awe and chagrin, wondering why the crown princess would ever want to spend all her free time hanging out with someone like her. Nayeon’s mask is simple unlike the others she sees around the room, one she had spent two weeks fashioning out of a strip of black leather and embellishing with a gold trim.
The embarrassment of being here mingling among the royal family has just started to really sink in, and Nayeon’s just about to leg it out of the ballroom when Sana approaches with only the bottom half of her face showing, a smile playing across her lips. The mirth in her eyes aren't lost under the shine of chandelier lights overhead. "You really came."
Fighting against every instinct in her body screaming at her to run, Nayeon stretches her hand out, palm facing upward. It's the only offer to dance that the princess has taken all night.
The actual dance itself is less than perfect. Nayeon, for all her horse-riding prowess, is clumsy and bumbling, two left feet tripping over the hem of Sana’s floor-length gown too many times to keep track of. Apologies are muttered every few seconds or so, though Sana barely seems to mind. She guides Nayeon across the floor, until they're twirling, hands on one another, right by the ornate gilded doors.
"Let's get out of here," Sana says, breath heavy with the smell of wine. "This corset is fucking killing me."
Several scandalised gasps arise from a crowd of aristocrats nearby helping themselves to hors d'oeuvres off a server's tray, and Nayeon snorts, before quickly turning it into a cough. "You forget your manners, princess."
"I don't care," Sana sniffs. She fans herself with a white-gloved hand before hitching her skirts up past her ankles, much to the horror of onlookers. "This dress is stuffy."
The courtyard is quiet, tall hedges giving just enough cover that they can remove their masks. Nayeon is bare faced under hers, slightly sweaty with stray baby hairs sticking to her damp forehead. Her hair is braided neatly around the crown of her head, little strands framing her face prettily.
"Look at you," Sana breathes, wonder slipping into her voice, and Nayeon wants to sob at the irony of it all. Sana is a princess after all, practically radiant with glittering eyeshadow and a rosy blush dusting her cheekbones. She doesn't have a single hair out of place. "This is a nice outfit."
"It's my father's," Nayeon confesses bashfully, looking away with cheeks tinted pink. The suit jacket is obviously old and painfully out of fashion, made for someone with broader shoulders and a taller stature. It hangs sadly off her petite frame. "I’m sorry I don't have better clothes."
"Nonsense," Sana’s fingers find either side of Nayeon’s face. "You look beautiful, darling."
Nayeon swears she could cry.
-
Dinner is a luxurious affair of three boiled sweet potatoes.
They're still freshly cooked, steam rising from places where the skin of the potato had burst apart to reveal the soft flesh within. Nayeon is impatient to eat, ignores the sharp sting of heat when she picks the potatoes apart. The pads of her fingers are thickened from years of labour. She'll barely feel it after a while.
Sana bursts through the stable doors just as Nayeon begins peeling the skin off of the second one. "Princess," she stands and greets in surprise, half-peeled potato dropping back down into her ceramic bowl. She wipes her dirty hands down against the front of her shirt.
"We need to leave," Sana says, words tumbling from her mouth in a hurry. She's already stroking the muzzle of her horse for it to lower its head. Sana places the bit of the bridle into its mouth, clumsy fingers fumbling with the leather straps until Nayeon takes over. Nayeon is a careful handler as always, with a decade of experience under her belt. She gently slides the crown of the bridle over the horse's ears.
"Where are we going?" she asks, already saddling the horse as Sana stuffs her nightgown behind bales of hay and helps herself to Nayeon’s extra shirt and a pair of spare riding pants.
"Anywhere," the princess replies. She hasn't thought this through yet. "I have some money. We could go North to the harbour and take a ship. I’ll shift into a cat so no one recognises me."
Nayeon nods, the gears in her head already turning as she thinks of the fastest route where they could go undetected. She's grown up in this very place, knows every backroad mapping the veins of the country like they were her own.
She doesn't stop to question why they're leaving their lives behind, though the white bandages stark against the skin at Sana’s ribcage is enough to give her an idea. The reason never mattered anyway. Where Sana goes, she will follow.
They ride out into the woods at midnight, before anyone notices that the crown princess is missing from her bed.
Nayeon’s dinner goes cold.
-
The sixth life
"You can't come out," Nayeon harshes out, grip tightening around her revolver as voices draw closer. The basket by her feet shakes once more while the shapeshifter, now a sand cat, paces around in nervous circles inside.
Nayeon slams the sole of her sandals into the top of the cloth-covered rattan, stirring up dust and sand. There's a feeble mewl in response – she'd have to deal with the shapeshifter sneezing sand out of her nose for the next hour. Nayeon’s next words are a warning, voice dangerously low as she crouches and points the barrel of her gun into the holes of the rattan basket where she knows the shapeshifter will see. "Cut it out."
They wait in minutes of strained silence behind a rock before the voices pass, as do the crowd of men.
Nayeon is visibly less tense now that they're alone again, dropping to the ground with a huff by the campfire and massaging her sore calves. The shapeshifter stirs, pawing at holes in the rattan basket until Nayeon looks over.
"Did you want to come out, little shapeshifter?" against all rational sense, Nayeon coos and unlatches the basket. It's difficult to deny the shapeshifter when she looks as adorable as she does when she's a cat. She hasn't been fed in days, so Nayeon barely worries about her trying to escape.
The sand cat darts out once the lid of the basket is flipped open, running a short distance away to work the soreness out of her limbs until pawprints turn to footprints in the sand. The shapeshifter jogs back to Nayeon, this time as a girl her age, fiery orange hair a shining beacon in the dark desert night as she shakes sand out from the folds of her clothing.
"I have a name you know; you don't have to call me shapeshifter all the time." the girl complains with a thick Japanese accent, seating herself next to Nayeon close enough that their arms brush against one another. Nayeon moves away.
"Your name is shapeshifter," she states simply. Bounty hunters did not need to care about the names of their prisoners. Well yes, maybe they did, but all Nayeon had to know about this girl was that she could shapeshift into cats and that she was worth enough money for Nayeon to retire.
"No," the girl scowls, looking like a child with her glorious head of orange. "My name is Sana."
"Sun-ah," Nayeon chuckles with a nod at the girl's hair. She isn't supposed to crack jokes with her prisoners either. "Get it? Because your hair is like the colour of–"
Sana scoffs. Her arms are crossed over her knees, the campfire casting flickering shadows on her skin. Smoke rises steadily into the still air. "I've heard that one a million times."
Nayeon wipes the barrel of her gun against her shirt, firelight reflecting off its steel.
"I won't try to escape," Sana says with a slight shiver. It feels like a sad confession, laying herself bare on the desert for circling vultures to pick apart. Nayeon realises this is a girl with nothing to live for and nothing to her name. Nayeon’s probably the best company she's had in months, which is sad, because Nayeon’s only goal is sending her back to the sheriff's office for money.
Sana’s hands drift towards the flames for more warmth, then reach out to accept a loaf of stale bread Nayeon offers from her satchel.
This is the third night.
-
By the seventh, the shapeshifter – Sana, has gotten way too comfortable after nights of strained conversation by the campfire that consists mostly of Sana chattering away to fill the silence followed by stiff nods or grunts from Nayeon. Nayeon isn't much of a talker, much less with her prisoners. Still, the animosity doesn't stop Sana from prancing around a very frustrated Nayeon and trying to talk her way into staying in human form while travelling. "The basket stinks!" she whines, as if to a friend, and Nayeon tries hard to look anywhere but into Sana’s mischievous eyes.
She keeps a pointed gaze at the rattan basket instead, slightly worn from use now, desert sand from miles and miles back trapped in its many crevices.
"I won't shift," Sana threatens then, arms folded. "You can't make me get into the basket."
The grin flashing across Nayeon’s face wipes the smirk off of Sana’s. "You don't have as much power as you think," she counters playfully, edging on something more. "If I starve you long enough you'll eventually shift to conserve energy. Then I’ll throw you into the basket and we'll be on our way."
"Please," Sana begs, on her knees now with the burning desert sand working its heat slowly through her thin layer of clothing. "It makes me miserable."
Pity rises up in Nayeon’s chest like a cresting wave without reason, makes her sling the empty basket across her shoulders and wordlessly offer Sana a piece of thick rope instead.
Sana stays human, as human as one can be when their wrists are bound together with rope secured to a bounty hunter's belt. Nayeon feeds her water when she complains about her parched throat, coupled with half-hearted warnings that this kindness is only temporary.
-
At dawn of the thirteenth day, as Nayeon wakes from a dream about a stable hand and a princess, she finally remembers. She recalls hot summer days and horses standing with flicking tails, of secret rendezvous when the palace grounds fall quiet at night and kisses snuck behind the courtyard.
In this life, Sana is not a princess and Nayeon her secret lover. In this life, they are nothing but a bounty hunter and prisoner crossing the desert alone.
What happened to us? Nayeon wants to ask, wants to know why the gods have put Sana completely at her mercy this time. The words disappear halfway up her throat. I’m supposed to protect you.
Her prisoner sleeps, body shimmering faintly in the greyish hues of early morning light. When Nayeon tucks a lock of bright orange hair behind Sana’s ear, it's a tender action born of muscle memory from lifetimes ago, a habitual instinct rooted deep within her.
She starts when Sana stirs, hastily drawing back and burrowing deep among the sand-covered blankets. Within minutes, Nayeon is fast asleep clutching her revolver.
-
On the fifteenth day, the sun seems in a rush to come settling down beneath the horizon. Light turns to dark, sweltering heat morphing into chilly winds as the sun sets.
Sana has been surprisingly silent the whole day, less talkative than usual though she still rambles on about random memories that come to mind sometimes before stopping to be fed water. She no longer has to ask, just dutifully opens her mouth whenever Nayeon offers her some. "Your lips look chapped," Nayeon would say with feigned nonchalance, face red from what she claims is a result of the heat.
Sana drinks gratefully, flashes the pink-cheeked bounty hunter a smile before resuming her anecdote of the time she had accidentally fallen into a koi pond. Sana was young in this one, still a five-year old child living in japan in a quaint little house with a garden. This was before she had decided to become a spy, and by extension and enemy of the state. The fishes ended up okay. Sana crawled out of the pond soaking wet. Nayeon doesn't mean to remember the little details of Sana’s stories like this, but the desert is dry and mundane, and Sana’s voice a lush oasis.
"I could tell you anything," she boasts, eager to impress. "I could tell you all the dirty secrets in the country."
But Nayeon shakes her head. She isn't interested in secrets.
The last of the evening light fades quickly, but not quite fast enough for Nayeon to miss the way Sana twists her bound hands uncomfortably. She stops, abrupt, lifting Sana’s arms with calloused hands. She can faintly see, in the dying light, the way Sana’s wrists have been chafed raw by the thick ropes. Blood has seeped into the rough hemp fibres, staining it a rusty brown colour by now with the time that has passed.
"You didn't say anything," Nayeon says it like an accusation, voice harsh with concern. It's an inexplicable feeling. It's not my business to care, she tells herself, and it isn't, but the gentleness with which she cradles Sana’s wrists feels almost inevitable.
A butterfly knife that Nayeon produces from her belt makes quick work of cutting through the knots, until the bloodied ropes fall away into the sand.
Sana’s wrists, once delicate, have turned into a bloody mess of angry flesh. "I’m sorry," she winces when Nayeon holds them up to catch the last rays of light from the setting sun, as if it's her fault for getting hurt, and something beneath Nayeon’s ribs ache.
She swallows down an apology of her own, mumbling instead that it's okay. She produces a salve of sorts from her bag and slathers it over Sana’s wounds, blowing at tender flesh until Sana begins to draw her hands back.
They stop travelling for now as night begins to set in.
Nayeon has gotten used to life in the desert by now. She spends her days frowning at the blinding sun, and her nights watching over Sana as she sleeps.
-
By the twentieth day, Sana’s wounds have become mottled with itchy scabs.
Nayeon bandages them firmly so that Sana won't scratch at them, much to the girl's despair.
"You can't," Nayeon groans, exasperated, pulling Sana’s arms apart when she catches her trying to rub her bandages together for the tenth time. Her voice has long lost its hostile edge. They continue walking like this, one of Sana’s hands clasped firmly in Nayeon’s so that she can't mess with her bandages.
They meet a group of travelling peddlers selling all sorts of odd knick knacks off their camels.
It's the first time Sana’s seen Nayeon this excited, reaching for her money bag without thought as she drags Sana around from camel to camel. Her first purchase is a bag of rice, something different from their usual sustenance of stale bread.
The second is a little figurine of a Japanese bobtail cat that Nayeon indulges herself with. It's made of glass, sunlight sparkling off its surface as Nayeon shows it off proudly to Sana.
The shapeshifter rolls her eyes. "I could turn into that," she brags, picking the figurine out of Nayeon’s hands to study its shape.
Nayeon snatches it back with a glare. "Well don't," she goes back to distractedly sifting through the bags hanging across the camel's back, hoping that there are more treasures to find. "I like you when you're human."
Nayeon hurries off to another camel then, Sana staring after her in surprise until she looks up and waves her over.
"Look!"
In Nayeon’s hands is a necklace, silver with a simple sun-shaped charm attached to it. She holds it up around Sana’s neck as the girl approaches.
"Necklaces aren't really my thing," Nayeon explains, already handing over some coins to the smiling peddler. "So this is yours."
Somewhere along the way, Nayeon had forgotten that Sana was supposed to be her prisoner.
They decide to move on when more travellers begin to gather around the peddlers. Nayeon has never been a fan of large groups of people, hands restlessly flitting between her revolver and the butterfly knife she keeps tucked into her belt.
She's taken to telling her own stories too.
She speaks animatedly, hands gesturing about as she tells Sana of the time she had gotten into a bar fight with a group of men. "See this?" Nayeon pulls at the neckline of her shirt to reveal a long scar running from the base of her throat along her clavicle. "Glass shard." she grins, as if the scar is a beloved trophy she wants to share.
Sana returns the favour, pushing her shirt down to reveal a scar of her own – two raised bumps on the back of her neck small enough that it's easy to miss at first glance. "Snakebite," Sana smiles brightly even as she runs a finger across the scar.
Nayeon gapes at the bumps on Sana’s skin. "You survived?" she asks incredulously, leaning in closer to see. Sana merely shrugs in return, pulling her shirt back into place. "Desert kingsnakes aren't venomous."
They make camp for the night in a rocky valley dotted with dry brush. Nayeon insists on cooking the rice despite Sana’s protests, busying herself with trying to bring the water to a boil. Sana toys with her new necklace, now fastened snugly around her neck as the setting sun casts thick streaks of pink and orange across the clouds. Nayeon looks pretty, dirt-streaked face and all, as she bustles around the fire.
Night falls like a thick shroud of black, and the fire lends light to the pair sitting with their backs against a rock.
"Why don't you escape?" Nayeon muses with her knees knocking against Sana’s, as if she's just remembering that the shapeshifter she shares this warmth with is her prisoner. It's a mystery after all, the cunningly elusive spy from Japan walking right into Nayeon’s poorly set trap.
When Sana looks over, Nayeon’s face is glowing orange from the firelight.
"Because I wanted you to find me," Sana whispers, once again laying herself out for the vultures. It's a difficult thing to be. She's barely audible over the crackling flames, frowning down at her bandaged wrists, not daring to breathe. Beneath the weary edge of her voice is the burden of a secret five lifetimes long. "Because I love you."
"You shouldn't," Nayeon answers gruffly, using her worn shirt to ease the sting of the heat as she lifts the pot of rice off the flames. It's not completely cooked, somehow soggy and hard at the same time, but it will have to do. There's not much luxury to be had here in the desert, or in this life at all. They aren't supposed to love each other. Not under these circumstances.
"You don't remember me," Sana murmurs, hands now cupping a small porcelain bowl as Nayeon spoons the bland rice into her mouth. Her eyes are sad. "I love you," she repeats earnestly. She stares at Nayeon, gauging for a reaction. The bounty hunter won't lift her eyes off the bowl in Sana’s hands.
Another memory from an old life comes to mind, one of school lunches on the bleachers and nights spent in Sana’s bed. She's been dreaming more as of late, desperately wishing she had met Sana when they were young – before she had turned to the wrong side of the law. Maybe things would be different then.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Nayeon answers, trying to steady her voice yet still sounding fragile and uncertain. "The heat must be making you sickly." After all, Sana is nothing more than a prize to exchange.
The spoon scrapes the bottom of the bowl.
"I’m going to sleep." Sana mutters after a long beat of silence. There's something that Nayeon tries screwing up the courage to say, but Sana has gone to lay on the blankets spread out on the other side of the fire. So she eats alone in silence instead, raking the spoon across the bottom of the pot to get the scorched layer out. She had given most of what was edible of the rice to Sana.
By the time she retires to the blankets, her companion is sound asleep.
"I loved you first," Nayeon admits to the slumbering girl with orange hair and a heart so kind. She lays out an extra mat on top of Sana, wondering if there's a place in the world for bounty hunters who uselessly fall for their prisoners.
The desert is cold, stretching on almost endlessly. Sometime in the night, Sana shifts closer for warmth. It's almost self-sabotage, the way Nayeon’s arms open willingly to accommodate her like a flower coming into bloom. They lay under a blanket of bright stars – a bounty hunter whose sweetest downfall is wrapped up in her embrace, and a shapeshifter dreaming of what it is to become the shape of love.
Sometimes, protecting someone is as simple as letting them go. Nayeon stays awake, taking her time to memorise the shape of shadows cast over Sana’s cheeks from the dancing firelight. It's the last time she'll see her face in this life.
When dawn begins to crack, dusty grey skies turning into pink, Nayeon gathers her belongings as quietly as she can manage.
"I loved you first," Nayeon tells her again. And again, voice no more than a resigned whisper.
Sana is turned on her side, hands tucked under her cheek to make a poor excuse for a pillow. Even after weeks in the desert, lips chapped and cheekbones way too prominent from the weight she's lost, she glows.
Nayeon leaves her revolver along with all of her money. She leaves her love behind.
"I’ll see you next time when things are better," the bounty hunter promises, and Sana smiles in her sleep, as if she hears it in a dream.
-
The seventh life
Nayeon takes really long showers. She likes to collect fridge magnets, needs glasses with thick lenses to see clearly, and is absolute shit at playing tetris.
These, along with many of Nayeon’s other little quirks, are things Sana remembers even in the next life.
This time apparently, Nayeon has developed a penchant for clicking her tongue at passing cats.
It is how Sana finds her this time.
"Look at you two-timing with random strays," Nayeon hears, and she freezes.
It's easy to tell who it is even without looking up from the stray cat she's petting with her free hand. Thankfully, the memories had come flooding back earlier this time. "I do this each time hoping it's you," she admits, no room for embarrassment to creep in because this feels just like meeting an old friend.
"You smoke now?" Sana asks. She has an umbrella extended towards Nayeon. How cliché. The rain isn't even that heavy, merely a smattering of raindrops falling around them and dotting the pavement. Nayeon peers up at her.
"Recreationally," she answers. The stray cat darts away, slipping through Nayeon’s fingers when Sana steps closer. Nayeon isn't wearing her glasses. Squints at the fiery thing atop Sana’s head. "Your hair is still orange?"
Sana chuckles, she invites herself to sit on the stairs next to Nayeon even as the other girl gives her a strange look. There's cigarette smoke rising between them.
"I could tell you liked it the last time," Sana states, and holds her breath. It lasts only eleven seconds before she exhales. Eleven seconds of silence is all it takes to relearn the way Nayeon’s eyes curve into little crescent moons when she smiles. Sana coughs when the smell of tobacco hits her again. "It's the colour of marmalade don't you think?"
Sana never changes much too.
She's wearing fluffy pink slippers, which is typical of her, but what Nayeon knows is a choice second to going barefoot. Sana likes being able to feel the texture of the ground, a liking she had developed while roaming around as a cat.
A plastic bag dangles off her right forearm. It's still cold, condensation wetting her shins when the bag rests against them. Nayeon reaches out and turns the bag over in her hand, ignoring Sana’s question in favour of satisfying her own curiosity. Low-fat milk and strawberry yogurt. Nayeon quirks her brow.
"You took a long time to find me," she exhales, then stubs her cigarette out against the concrete. There's an irregular backbeat of raindrops as they hit the top of Sana’s umbrella. Nayeon turns to study her face. Sana’s grimace reminds her that she's never been a fan of second-hand smoke.
"Well, you abandoned me in the desert," Sana says, eyebrows raised. The look of guilt on Nayeon’s face is almost comical, and Sana’s expression softens with a fond giggle.
"I’m just kidding," she says, sounding sorry for dredging up an unpleasant past, and Nayeon sees it, the same way it's always been when they find one another for the first time – the history that threatens to spill from Sana’s mouth, the look of relief as Sana seeks out subtle differences between Nayeon now and her Nayeon from lifetimes before. The girl sitting beside her is mostly familiar. Mostly, because the smell of cigarette smoke still hangs heavy in the humid air.
Nayeon still cries easily though. Sana can make out under the light of streetlamps the usual tremble of her chin, the way the front of Nayeon’s eyebrows slant upwards ever so slightly when she's trying not to burst into tears. She settles for worrying at her bottom lip instead. Then, from Sana, "You look pretty with short hair."
Nayeon cards her fingers through the mess her hair had become, wet where raindrops had fallen. "You look pretty with orange hair," she says in return, offering a small smile, and reaches to take the umbrella from Sana’s hand. "So what is it this time?"
Her old friend laughs, bumps her shoulders. "Oh I’m super cute this time. Get a load of this," she says, and in the blink of an eye Sana disappears.
In her place is a purring Scottish fold with the smallest ears that Nayeon’s ever seen in this life or any other. "Your ears!" she practically screams, falling over herself in peals of delighted laughter, forgetting that she was trying not to cry just a minute ago.
She takes Sana home.
-
Sana smells like a baby when she's a cat, leaning into the palm of Nayeon’s outstretched hand as she whispers into her small triangle-tipped ears, cheeks pressed against soft fur. She's patient, tolerant as Nayeon croons a love song, pausing to bury her nose into Sana’s soft belly. Nayeon keeps the melody, humming sweetly.
And then, Sana is human again.
She takes a grape-flavoured popsicle out of the freezer. Kisses that come after are always too cold and lips too numb. Nayeon still has that habit of sucking the flavouring out of the stick.
There is routine in their days now. How Sana has moved into Nayeon’s studio apartment and they have a chore schedule stuck to the fridge door. Sana has been banned from doing the laundry after a stray red sock had dyed their clothes pink.
There are sacrifices made too – Nayeon has thrown all her cigarettes out and Sana trades unbridled freedom as a cat for time with her.
-
Marriage comes next - the first time in all their lifetimes. It's a small affair in Iceland, and then they buy a small house by the sea.
Nayeon wakes from an afternoon nap, fingers scratching the duvet as she stretches lazily. Salt lingers in the air, its scent carried in by the winds. Sana isn't where she'd last been before Nayeon fell asleep, no longer working at her desk.
"Sweetheart," Nayeon calls out, voice hoarse with drowsiness still. There's a faint crashing of waves in the distance. "Where are you?"
No response comes even after Nayeon waits a beat, still blinking to let her eyes adjust to the brightness of the room in the soft afternoon sunlight. She slips out of bed, stretching her weary limbs once more before padding softly around the house in search of her wife.
She finds Sana sleeping on the kitchen counter, stretched out on her back. Sunlight filters in through half-shut blinds, tired, slatted beams falling across Sana’s body and illuminating specks of dust that dance and twist themselves around in the light.
Sana is a small-faced Scottish fold again today, paws and whiskers twitching ever so slightly as she dreams in her slumber. Nayeon approaches on tiptoe, gently resting her elbows on the countertop as she watches the rise and fall of Sana’s short breaths.
Despite being slender in human form, Sana is a chubby little thing as a cat. Nayeon can't help snapping a quick picture, then leaves her to sleep.
Two long hours later, Sana wakes purring and content. The heat of the afternoon has cooled by now, easing gently into the beginnings of dusk. She walks, in that soundless way that cats do, to the bedroom where Nayeon is reading. Nayeon has a distinct scent that Sana can pick out easily, like the milk and honey body lotion Sana had gifted her last Christmas.
She goes unnoticed at first, because Nayeon tends to forget her surroundings when she begins to read. Sana tumbles into bed noisily, human once more in a cream-coloured cardigan.
"Sweetheart," Nayeon greets, checking the page number of her book before she closes it and draws Sana in for a hug. She'll still remember it the next time she picks it up. Nayeon is exactly like this – the kind of person who forgets things like taking the laundry out when it's done but just happens to have an excellent mind for less significant details like the page at which she stops reading. "Did you sleep well?"
Sana nods into the crook of her neck. She's still a little warm to the touch, which is something Nayeon learns will happen after her shapeshifting because cats have a higher core body temperature than humans do. She'll cool eventually, as time passes.
"What do cats dream about?" she wonders, one hand rubbing gentle circles into Sana’s back.
Sana laughs at her musings, the sound blending with the wind chimes that they have hanging outside their bedroom window. Nayeon used to find them annoying, knocking against one another all day. She doesn't anymore.
"I dreamt of you today," Sana says, eyes alight with adoration when they meet Nayeon’s. Nayeon had impulsively dyed her hair blonde at the end of winter, and she's grown into it beautifully now as spring begins to stretch its warm tendrils from beneath the frozen ground. Sana has a hand tangled in Nayeon’s locks, grinning as if she has a funny story to tell.
"Remember that space observatory you took us to last year?"
Nayeon hums, a smile spreading slowly across her face. There's a moon rock on the bedside table next to where Sana charges her phone – a supposedly authentic souvenir from the observatory's gift shop. Nayeon doubts it had really fallen hundreds of thousands of kilometres from the moon down to earth since it had cost a mere ten dollars. It's a nice thought nonetheless, to have a piece of the moon.
"Well, I dreamt that we were back there, and it blew up and we died."
"What?" Nayeon sputters, smile dropping off her face as she stares at Sana in disbelief. Sana is laughing like the wind chimes again, planting kisses all over her face as an apology for tainting a good memory.
"I can't help it!" she shrieks, when Nayeon tackles her into the mattress. "I’m a cat it's what we do, we dream of things exploding."
"Very funny," Nayeon counters with no malice in her voice. "I think I’m a dog person then."
-
The eighth life
"Did you hear?" Jihyo asks. "We're getting new trainees from Japan today."
Jeongyeon is sitting shoulder to shoulder with Nayeon, their backs facing the practice room mirror. "No," she snorts, still impressed at Jihyo’s ability to fish for company gossip before anyone else.
"I hope they're nice," Nayeon says, taking a swig of water. "I’m sick of you two already."
She gets a well-deserved smack in the head for that, and the trainers look on disapprovingly at their roughhousing before calling out that their break is over.
Dance training is strenuous, and the new trainees go forgotten until the door opens all of a sudden. An intern pops his head in, followed by two inquisitive faces.
"Good afternoon," the intern seems nervous as he bows to the trainers. "I've brought the new trainees here to observe the class."
The music pauses. Nayeon turns to get a good look at the newcomers. Holy shit, she thinks.
The first new girl smiles shyly, all perfect teeth and shining eyes. She speaks in korean hesitantly, with a beginner's grasp of the language. "Hello, my name is–"
"–Sana," Nayeon interrupts, staring right at her. She feels her heart rising to her throat, thudding painfully in anticipation of something. The other trainees exchange awkward stares. Jeongyeon starts to snicker because she thinks it's hilarious that Nayeon’s interrupting a new girl.
"Yes," Sana answers. She smiles at the sweaty red-faced trainee as if they've known each other their whole lives. "And you're Nayeon, aren't you?"
-
Debuting isn't easy, but it pays off.
It's nice, sometimes, when Sana feels particularly mischievous and she leans in for a kiss. Other times, she sneaks up from the back when Nayeon isn't paying attention and wraps her arms around her. The cameras go crazy. Fans eat it up. Best of all, Nayeon’s happy.
Nayeon is endearing, Sana’s favourite girl in all kinds of ways that the public is never privy to.
But the road isn't all easy, of course.
Sana is off her game today. Misses a few steps. Loses her footing. Ends up in the back somehow when it's her turn in the centre position. Her mistakes are brushed off with pats on the back from the other members, along with encouragement from the choreographer.
She carries on in silence. Nayeon worries.
Later, Jihyo discovers Sana missing from the dorm.
"I’ll find her," Nayeon volunteers. Grabs her coat and shoes.
Seonyudo park is cold in the evening. Nayeon shivers, rubbing her hands together for warmth as her feet trace a familiar path. She finds a sleeping Siamese cat on a bench by the water lily pond.
"Hey Sana," she whispers, tugging the face mask down to her chin as she seats herself next to the cat and pulls its warm weight into her lap. Sana does this sometimes when the stress gets to her.
She lifts her head and blinks now, awake for a second before her eyes slip closed again. Her nose, cold and wet, nuzzles itself into the crook of Nayeon’s elbow. Her fur is warm against Nayeon’s hand.
"You had a hard time, didn't you?" Nayeon asks, looking out at the water lilies. Her voice is gentle. "Nobody blames you for messing up."
The cat in her lap turns into a human, into a familiar face staring back at her teary-eyed.
"I just feel so bad," Sana sighs, burying her face into Nayeon’s hair before pulling back, surprised. Her nose is scrunched up, as if she's smelled something foul. "Your new shampoo kind of stinks."
"You stink," Nayeon retorts, leaning in to kiss Sana on the lips before she can think of a comeback. She makes a mental note to use Sana’s shampoo tonight.
They kiss until they can’t quite catch their breaths, or at least until Jihyo sends Nayeon a text composed of a string of worried looking emojis.
"You know, I’m glad it was you." Nayeon says later when they're making their way out of the park. She touches a tentative finger to her swollen lips. They're ridiculously red from kissing. Her fingers are laced together with Sana’s and tucked deep into her pocket where it's warm. "All these lives, I’m glad it was you with me."
-
The ninth life
When they meet this time, they're still too young to remember one another.
"Hi," Sana says. There's a stuffed rabbit dangling limply from her hand and her nose is runny. "Can I sit here?"
Nayeon looks her up and down, eyeing the stranger with only one toy and a rumpled dress. Her mother is sitting on a bench across the playground, deep in conversation with some other kid's parent. Nayeon decides she has to protect her own belongings and gathers her toys closer to herself. "You can't."
"You're mean," Sana comments, pouting, and plops herself down next to her anyway. Nayeon spreads her arms and scoops her toys towards her once more, this time sweeping them all up into her lap.
"Go away, I don't want to play together."
Sana sniffles. Wipes the back of her small hand under her nose. She offers her stuffed bunny to Nayeon. "This is Mr. Wiggles."
That piques Nayeon’s interest. She's always been fond of bunnies. "Hi Mr. Wiggles," she coos, thinking that maybe it wouldn't be so bad being friends with this girl after all. "Can I hold him?"
"Okay," Sana answers, she's grinning and Nayeon’s unkindness is already forgotten. "Can I see your toys?"
Nayeon smiles, wide and toothless in a way that Sana thinks is familiar. Now that Mr. Wiggles is in her hand, impossibly soft to the touch and adorable, Nayeon’s in a very generous mood.
She unloads a bunch of plastic animal figurines off her lap and onto the playground floor, picks them up one by one and proudly rattles off names for each. "I named this one sunny," Nayeon brags, holding up a ginger cat.
"I’m Sana!" she exclaims, very much amused by the similarities between the toy's name and hers. She takes it from Nayeon’s outstretched palm, studying its shape carefully before beaming at her new friend, looking something like sunshine personified.
"Do you want to see some magic?" Sana asks, the little cat figurine clutched tightly in her fist.