Work Text:
Once upon a time there was a wandering swordsman who was pure of heart yet completely blind. He spent his days traveling around from village to village, helping wherever he could. Even though he was blind, he was very skilled, and he defeated all sorts of monsters during his travels.
However even with his skills, his life was often difficult. The swordsman was an altruistic man: it was enough for him to help others with their problems, and he wouldn’t ask for anything in return. But the world was largely at peace and there weren’t very many monsters to fight. He would sometimes go many days without being able to help, and even when he was able to, he was not always rewarded for his troubles. Because of this he would often need to seek food in the wilderness, unable to obtain it from any of the villages he encountered. The swordsman was also rather lonely. Even though he wished from time to time to have a companion, he would never dare to ask another to join him in this sort of life.
The swordsman was content, but he could not say he was happy.
One day he came across a village where the people were eager to ask for his help. Many of them had fled from their homes nearby because the area had recently become overrun with walking corpses. The swordsman had encountered walking corpses before, but never in such large a quantity as these people described. They were usually in small groups made up of recently-deceased, yet the stories the people told made it sound as if an entire graveyard had climbed out of the ground to cause trouble. Knowing that only he could help these people, the swordsman set off without delay.
He reached the described location just as night began to fall. Exactly as he had been told, there were a countless number of walking corpses. Additionally, these walking corpses were quite unusual in another way. They seemed to be very intelligent and aggressive compared to any the swordsman had fought before. Yet they were still no match for his skills, and one by one he cut them down.
As he was fighting, he sensed another creature approaching. This creature was not a walking corpse, but also not a human, for it was far too small to be either. He tried to avoid it, but as it went past him it snagged upon the flowing sleeves of his robes, and soon he heard the sound of a yowling cat. It was then that he realized what it was that was so small and had appeared so suddenly.
He called out to the cat with a smile as bright as the moon and a voice as gentle as the breeze: “Now, what are you doing in this sort of place? There, there; you must be terrified.”
The swordsman did not want to frighten the cat any further, so he lowered his sleeve to the ground so that the cat could regain its footing, even as he fought off the walking corpses with his other arm.
“If you let go you can stay by my feet, and I’ll make sure they don’t hurt you.”
One arm wielded his sword with precision and mercilessly cut apart the monsters as they approached. The other arm gave a careful shake of his sleeve so that the cat could free itself without injury. The cat gave a rough meow as it came loose, and the swordsman smiled at it again.
“Good. Now stay still, so I don’t cause you any more trouble.”
The swordsman straightened up again and continued to fight the monsters. Though the cat did not listen and moved about his feet as if it hadn’t a care in the world, he was still able to gracefully avoid stepping on it.
Because the swordsman was blind, he could not see the appearance of the cat. It had fur as black as night, almost as black as the darkness that the swordsman lived his days within. Its eyes were a bright red, more brilliant than any flames. From its backside sprouted two tails that darted about with excitement, and one was shorter than the other, stunted as if cut a long time ago.
The swordsman fought for so long he nearly lost track of time. Finally the walking corpses were defeated, and the swordsman bent down to pet the cat. No sooner had his fingertips brushed the top of its fur than it suddenly darted away. The swordsman wondered if he had scared the cat. He decided not to chase after it, and instead called out from where he was:
“I’m glad you are safe. If you see any creatures like that again, please try to run away instead of hiding. They should be slow and you are fast; you will be able to outrun them. Goodbye.”
With that he went back to the village and told them the good news. The people there were overjoyed and thanked him profusely. They offered him food, money, and even shelter. The swordsman accepted after much insisting, and for the first time in a while he was able to rest with a full stomach.
After a single day the swordsman began to travel again to find others in need. No sooner had he left the village than he heard the rustle of a nearby bush followed by a rough meow. The swordsman could not see and did not know of the appearance of the creature in front of him, but he recognized the sound of its voice. He called out to the cat again.
“Hello again. Have you been following me this whole time?”
He thought to himself, this cat must have a difficult life if it has decided to follow me this far. He decided to try to feed it, and gave it a small piece of the meat he had been gifted the day before. The cat was no longer afraid of him, and came over to eat the meat straight out of his hand. The swordsman felt a fondness for the cat, and so said to it,
“You are very friendly. The villagers here are very nice. I’m sure if you stay with them and kill rats for them, they would be happy to feed you. You shouldn’t come with me, or there will be more dangerous things in the future.”
As he spoke he fed the cat a second piece of meat. He went to feed it a third piece, but it suddenly jumped onto his shoulder. The swordsman startled and spoke again.
“Were you not listening to me? I said there will be more dangerous things if you stay with me.”
Yet he was unable to convince the cat to leave. The cat rubbed the side of its face against his, and this time allowed the swordsman to pet its head. He felt a warm feeling in his chest.
“If you insist. But you must stay out of trouble from now on.”
He continued on his way with the cat on his shoulder. Their journey seemed to go quickly, but the cat was not happy when they reached the next village. It dug its claws into his shoulder and it curled up tightly. It seemed to be afraid of being separated from the swordsman. He wondered if the cat did not like being around lots of people, and if that was why it was staying with him instead of finding a house with a family to live with.
The swordsman asked around for news of dangerous creatures, be they monsters of the flesh or apparitions of the spirit. His search produced no leads, and eventually he settled himself at a nearby inn. It was only then that the cat came down from his shoulder.
“You truly do not seem to like other people. What is it about me that’s special? Is it because I’ve fed you?”
As he spoke he gave some meat to the cat once again, and the cat meowed in return. He once again tried to pet the cat, and this time he managed to reach as far down as its neck before it ran away to continue eating on the other side of the room. The swordsman let it be and ate his own meal.
The two traveled together for many more days. Upon arriving at each town the swordsman would ask around for news of trouble, and each time he would be informed there was no news to be had. Little by little the gifts he had received before were eaten and spent. One day there was no longer any money or food left, and the swordsman and the cat settled down to sleep under a small thatched roof meant to shelter hay.
“I’m sorry. I have tried my best, but there will be no meal tonight.”
The one thing he could offer the cat was a rub, and once again it moved out of his reach after letting him pet the top of its head. The two of them settled down to sleep in their meager lodgings.
“Swordsman, swordsman!”
Panicked voices roused him from his sleep, and he shot awake at once.
“Dear swordsman, please wake up! The corpses from our graveyard have risen as if alive, and are causing mayhem in our village! Did you not say earlier that you are an expert in removing monsters of all sorts?”
In response to their pleas the swordsman stood up immediately. He reached for his cat companion but found that its sleeping spot was empty and had gone cool. Perhaps it had long since left to find some place where it would always have a meal. The swordsman thought that that was for the best, though he felt that he would miss the warm weight on his shoulder as he traveled.
Once again the walking corpses seemed to be intelligent and aggressive, but the swordsman had no trouble fighting them. He traveled back and forth across the entire village to make sure that every last monster was dispatched. Upon finishing his task, the people of the village came out to greet him and call him a hero. They provided him with food, money, and shelter at the nearby inn, and he was unable to reject their offerings. Immediately he was brought to the finest room and provided with an entire feast, the likes of which he had never encountered before.
As he sat down to eat, he felt saddened that his feline friend had gone away to find its own meal elsewhere. Now the swordsman could provide for it, but even if he went back to where they had parted ways, he was sure the animal would not be there to find.
The thought ate at him, and he decided if he were to follow his conscience, he at least had to go check. Yet as soon as he made up his mind, he heard the sound of paws on the floor by the window. Soon there was a rough meow, and then a small, fuzzy head rubbed against his arm.
With his heart feeling much lighter, the swordsman placed a dish of meat on the floor for the cat, and then he resumed eating as well.
After that the two of them continued to travel together. The swordsman asked for news of trouble at each establishment they passed, but again their supplies steadily dwindled. One day the swordsman could just barely afford a room for the two of them, some meat, and a bowl of rice porridge.
“I fear we might have trouble with accommodations again soon. Fortunately the weather is good this time of year; we will be able to sleep outside easily, and I should be able to find something to eat in the forest for the two of us to share.”
He gave the meat to the cat and ate the porridge himself, then the two of them went to sleep.
“Swordsman, swordsman!”
Panicked voices roused him from his sleep, and he shot awake at once.
“Dear swordsman, please wake up! The corpses from our graveyard have risen as if alive, and are causing mayhem in our village! Did you not say earlier that you are an expert in removing monsters of all sorts?”
In response to their pleas the swordsman stood up immediately. He reached for his cat companion but found that its sleeping spot was empty and had gone cool. He was relieved to think that the cat would not be hurt by the danger, but was saddened and worried by its disappearance. He took his sword and headed outside to help.
Once again the walking corpses seemed to be intelligent and aggressive, but the swordsman had no trouble fighting them. He traveled back and forth across the entire village to make sure that every last monster was dispatched. Upon finishing his task, the people of the village came out to greet him and call him a hero. They provided him with food, money, and gave him a better room at the inn, and he was unable to reject their offerings.
As he lay down to sleep, he felt saddened that his feline friend had left him, even if it was to avoid the danger. Yet no sooner did he think this than he heard the sound of paws on the floor by the window. Soon there was a rough meow, and then a small, fuzzy head rubbed against his leg.
With his heart feeling much lighter, the swordsman fell asleep in the comfortable bed, his feline companion curled up nearby.
They continued to travel together, and this scene played out several more times. At first the swordsman had thought nothing of it, but eventually something began to feel wrong.
One day they came to a village that seemed to have a strange atmosphere. The swordsman was blind and so had very good hearing, and he noticed the sound of whispers following him wherever he went. The villagers were polite but curt, and whenever he asked them about strange happenings, they insisted that he should look elsewhere. Thinking something odd about the whole thing, the swordsman decided to stay the night to investigate.
He found it troublesome to rent a room. At first he was told the inn was full, but then the owner said they had found a vacancy at the last moment. The swordsman was given a room where the two of them could sleep and a delicious meal that the two of them could eat, and he considered it a stroke of good fortune.
Yet the strangeness of this place weighed on his mind, and he found himself unable to sleep soundly. It was still the middle of the night when he awoke from his slumber. The first thing he did was reach out to the spot where his cat companion had curled up earlier, but the spot was empty, and still warm.
The swordsman remembered all those nights before when walking corpses had appeared but the cat was unable to be found. It always seemed to know when to avoid danger. If it is hiding now, he thought to himself, then perhaps that means there is trouble soon to come.
He sprang to his feet and grabbed his sword, meaning to depart the building quietly and without rousing others. Yet there was a night attendant, the very owner who had sold him a room, who spotted him and called out.
“Dear swordsman, where are you going so late?”
The swordsman stilled and said, “I apologize for disturbing you. My cat has a habit of hiding when there is trouble. Since it has disappeared, I fear there might be something amiss.”
“Dear swordsman,” the owner said, “are you not aware of the rumors?”
The swordsman was not, and said so.
“There are rumors in this and other towns that others have brought news of. They tell stories of a blind swordsman with a cat who travels around the area. They say that where he stops, the dead rise from their graves, and he cuts them down again for rewards.”
Hearing such things, the swordsman felt a chill. “I do not seek rewards, only to protect others.”
“But you are that man? The one that the dead rise around?”
“I suppose I must be,” he said. “It would be no one else. But I have not done anything that would call the dead up from their graves.”
“Dear swordsman, have you heard of a monster known as the ‘nekomata’?”
The swordsman had not, and said so.
“It is a beast much better known in far-off lands. There are legends of cats that surpass their lifespans by becoming fae. Their tails fork in two, and they raise the dead and control them with their dances. Dear swordsman, that cat that you travel with, how many tails does it have?”
The swordsman tried to answer, but realized he could not. Every time he had tried to pet the cat, he had only managed to touch its head. Whether it had one or two or many tails, he could not say. “I do not know. But you saw it earlier today when I bought the room. Did you not notice a second tail?”
“The cat was curled up tight as a ball and would not budge from your shoulder as if it were a solid rock. There was no chance to see how many tails it possessed.”
The swordsman, hearing this, became more unsettled than before, for he could not deny any of it. Was it not when he could no longer feed the cat that the corpses appeared? Did the cat not benefit every time he cut those monsters down? It was only since encountering the cat that he had fought walking corpses in such numbers, with such intelligence, as if someone else was thinking for the group of them.
“Thank you for telling me,” he said. “Having learned this, I fear there will be more corpses tonight. Please keep this place secure, and warn others if you have the chance.”
With that he headed out into the night.
When he reached the graveyard just beyond the edge of the village, there were already many walking corpses gathering. He did not hesitate to begin cutting them down, but no sooner had he begun than he called out:
“Friend! You are out there, are you not? Is this your doing? Has it been you the entire time?”
At first there was no reply, and the swordsman continued to strike down the walking corpses. He thought to himself that maybe it was wrong, and it was just a bad coincidence. But then there was a rough meow.
The corpses and the swordsman both went still. Not even a breeze stirred and even the insects went quiet. The only sound was the soft pattering of cat paws on the ground approaching him. Then they too went still, and the swordsman heard a shifting noise unlike anything he’d heard before.
“Yes, it is my doing.” The voice sounded young and a little familiar.
Now the sound was a human’s footsteps, but the swordsman knew they didn’t belong to a human. Because the swordsman was blind, he could not see the appearance of the creature before him. It had the look of a young man, with two pointed ears covered in fur as black as night, almost as black as the darkness that the swordsman lived his days within. Its eyes were a bright red, more brilliant than any flames. From its backside sprouted two tails that darted about with excitement, and one was shorter than the other, stunted as if cut a long time ago.
“Why would you do such a thing?”
“What do you mean? Isn’t it obvious?” The footsteps gave a small twirl. Some of the corpses began to move towards him again, and the swordsman quickly cut them down. The creature in front of him laughed. “See, isn’t this fun? It’s fun when the two of us play together!”
The swordsman was so shocked he could not believe his ears. “What part of this is playing? You are dishonoring the dead and frightening the living! This is no game!”
“This is no game,” the creature repeated. “But what is wrong with doing those things? Don’t those frightened humans give you gifts, food, and shelter? They don’t appreciate what you do for them until it affects them. I help you show them how grateful they should be!”
The creature moved as it spoke and the corpses moved as well. The swordsman wanted to argue but had to focus on fighting. He was certain that like a real cat, if he let his guard down he might be scratched by its claws or bitten by its teeth.
“You are very good at fighting with my puppets! It’s very fun! You have plenty of money still, don’t you? So we can play here tonight without scaring any humans first. When you run out of money again, we can put on another performance for them. Isn’t it a great idea?”
“No!” The swordsman could not take it anymore, and yelled back even as he fought. “Even if I starve, I do not want to cause trouble for others!”
“I won’t let you starve. You give food to me and I give food to you. That’s the sort of friends we are.”
It was then that the swordsman understood just what sort of misfortune he had caused by befriending this creature, for it too was the sort of monster he should strike down. Having learned the truth, never again could he think of it as a normal cat, nor would he feel the warmth of his companion curled up on his shoulder. He gave one last shout. “Now that I know your true nature, I can never accept your friendship or your help again!” Then he struck out with his sword.
The stories do not say which one of them lived to tell this tale. All that is agreed upon is a single thing: after that day, no one ever again saw a blind swordsman traveling with a cat upon his shoulder.