Work Text:
It takes Xiaohei several days to remember.
The first day it rains. He huddles in the corner of the box, hissing at rain that drops off a corner of the cardboard. He has memories of dry place in the rain, of someone keeping him dry, of a warm lap to sit in. The memories come and go. He meows, pathetically, huddles against the wet cardboard and meows. He goes in and out of sleep.
At one point he feels a paw pressed on his head and hisses at the pressure. He’s too weak to change (change?), to unsheath his claws.
You’re not a cat, someone says. Why don’t you change back?
He hisses, then meows again. He’s so hungry.
I see.
The voice leaves. The pressure leaves. He huddles in the corner of the box, covering his tail with his eyes.
Then, a smell. Something delicious right under his nose. He opens one eye.
Eat, little one, the same voice says. He licks fish and then eats a soft paste, salty and delicious, filling his mouth.
Slow down, the voice says. Don’t make yourself sick.
He hisses again and finishes the paste. When the food is gone he realizes the rain is gone, too. He opens one eye at the sky and sees something blocking the way. An umbrella. Oh, he thinks, but falls asleep before he can say anything.
When he wakes up he hears voices. One sounds anxious. “What do you mean he’s not a cat? Dikui, what else could he be?”
“He’s a yaoguai,” another voice says, unpeturbed. “Like me. But young.”
“Young!! How young!! Is this a baby?? Are you telling me you want to leave a baby on the street??? We have to take him home to Ting-ah!!”
“This isn’t for immortals. Let him be. Besides, he’s strong. I can sense his aura. He’ll get back to normal strength in no time.”
“Why isn’t he turning back into his immortal form?? Is he sick??”
There’s something soft under him now that wasn’t there before. No more rain. He can hear it, far away, behind the voices. He meows, extra pathetically.
“Dikui!!!! He’s crying!! He’s starving to death!!”
“He’s fine. If he eats more he’ll throw up.”
“Why did you bring me here if you’re not going to let me help???”
“I needed you to bring the blanket.”
“Dikui!!!”
A huff of silence. Then a warm pressure on his head. This time he turns his face into it. The tiniest purr escapes him.
Feeling better, little one?
He doesn’t respond. He purrs until he falls asleep again.
You stole something, didn’t you, the voice says, when he wakes again. He growls softly, in warning. If he could change he’d show them. Then they wouldn’t make fun of him like this. Eat some more, the voice says, and the growl turns into a meow until the food is pushed closer to him.
What’s your name, little one?
He swallows. I’m not that little, he protests. He’s trained a lot. I’m Xiaohei.
I’m Xing Dikui.
Why are you staying with me?
Dikui has tan fur and a black nose. He turns his nose away.
“Xing Dikui! Tianji told me you had a secret kitten!!”
Who’s that?
Dikui sighs, puts his face down on his paws. His ears twitch. My human.
She sounds far away. Is she your master?
Dikui blinks at him. No. I’m watching over her.
Xiaohei licks the last of the food. My master is human, he says. The world is getting fuzzy around the edges. He closes his eyes and yawns. He does a big stretch for the first time in several days, then snuggles down into the blanket, warm and dry and no longer hungry.
Who’s your master? Dikui asks, but Xiaohei is already asleep. When he next wakes up, it’s to a woman wearing a sheet mask, and a little girl with red hair.
When Dikui goes back in the morning to check on the kitten in the box, the box is missing. He sits back on his haunches and frets for twenty minutes.
A couple of years later he meets Xiaohei again, in a videogame. He watches the young cat’s hair turn from black to white as he kills all the players in Dikui’s party. The gaming cafe erupts in groans, everyone taking off their VR headset.
“How come one kid is so good?!” Su Moting exclaims, angrily, throwing down her headset.
Dikui looks down at the game. Looks like you’re okay, after all, he thinks, and smiles.