Archive of Our Own

When Luka came to, she knew vaguely that she had never really passed out in the first place. Or at least, it felt like she hadn't. It was as if her brain had been removed and, awake and screaming, locked in a jar. A living nightmare, a dreamscape she was conscious in, pure emotion with blinding awareness, not a second where there were inexplicable hallucinations, where her prefrontal cortex had checked out. So it wasn't a question of 'coming to'. Rather, the world had to return to her. It did so, slowly, though not due to a lack of effort. The panic she had felt was still there, the anvil in her gut had never faded, but instead of standing, she was lying down, and the lights, they were bright. They were so bright. 

"What?"

The voice was loud. Not painfully so, not quite, but it felt like it rang through her skull. It was wholly unlike any hangover pain: the sound filled her head so completely, she could almost taste it.

Before she could further gather her bearings, a hand pulled at a blanket that covered her. Goosebumps broke out over her whole body. Before she could complain, or question whether she was clothed or not, something grabbed at her neck. 

It wasn't a hand. It couldn't be. It was so massive. It was too strong. It was the size of her whole upper back, it could crush her ribcage. And it gathered her skin, pulled at it, tugged to the extent that it might peel her, but it didn't, then it lifted her off the ground like she was a basket of apples.

"A... A random, long-haired cat?" the voice asked, so loud. 

And then it shook her. It rattled her very body, and she felt it: she had her four limbs. She had all her fingers and toes. She had...

The anvil dissolved into something sour. Terrible, corrosive fear. 

"You can't be just a domestic longhair!" the voice exclaimed. "You're too smart, too beautiful, to be anything but, I don't know, an angora! A maine coon!"

She blinked; the lights were still too bright, the colors weren't all there, but the terrible realization dawned on her. Those cats in the cages, the machine...

"You were supposed to be expensive!" the voice hollered. No, it was Gakupo. It was Gakupo talking to her, holding her up, doing so with such ease, because she was a cat. 

She prided herself on being a rational person. The evidence was there, as circumstantial as it was. There was also the immediate evidence: she didn't feel like herself. She was too lightweight, there was something that had to be a tail attached to her spine, and she was completely out of sorts. 

But she didn't believe it. She couldn't. Gakupo didn't turn her into a cat. Couldn't do that. That technology didn't exist. Even if it did, why would...

"What a tremendous waste of time," Gakupo hissed, still holding her by the neck. "If exceptional people don't automatically make exceptional cats, then... Is it chance? Will I have to kidnap hundreds of people to hopefully get a dozen of cats worth selling?"

He was moving, she felt it in the way she rocked back and forth, feeling like coffee sloshing in a cup. And the more she sloshed, the more she knew, she just knew that there was no way she was human any longer. Nothing was right. 

She didn't dare open her eyes.

"I must have done something wrong in the transformation process. I mean, it's all well and good that they're alive and healthy, but... I suppose there isn't a genetic factor for talent. But beauty? Hm."

That was when she heard the sound of a key entering a keyhole. It was metal; the kind of keyholes that sat in the doors of the cages.

She was right. She was a cat, just like all the other cats in that room; once people, now locked, imprisoned, forced to watch as he brought in more people to condemn them to the same fate. 

The only thing that stopped her from squirming was the presence of the huge, terrifying, strong hand that clutched her by the skin of her neck. And the fact that her world still spun.

"Perhaps I could force the transformation to give me a specified result," he mumbled on, lifting her up and gracelessly letting her rest on the bottom of the cage. It was metal, cold, and ungiving. "That would make things complicated if I ever decide to turn them back, though..."

He released her, and Luka finally dared open her eyes. 

It was a blurry mess. Something huge, so absolutely huge was pulling away; his hand, so big it could envelop and crush her skull, and behind that, the man, towering, his face like a door. All in grey, blinding pale grey, yet she saw the blurry reflection of light on the glass as he started closing the door. 

Luka opened her eyes, prepared to jump, only to be startled by another noise. She couldn't pin it down, but it startled Gakupo, too.

"What—?!"

He shut the door and hurriedly locked it. 

"Who's there?!" Then, after a pause, he exclaimed. "You! What— When did—"

"What did you do to her?!" came a voice, shrill with panic and confusion. "You— You turned her into—"

"Come here!"

Luka came to, slowly, as a scuffle happened outside the cage, inside the bulk of the room. She couldn't, for the life of her, follow the events, or pin down the identity of the other voice. But soon, the unmistakable hum of the machine was whirring again, and she felt her hair stand on end. 

If only she could really see. She blinked, seeing a shape under the arch of the machine, another stepping away, Gakupo's unmistakable towering form. 

"There we go! Now just—"

"Let me go!" exclaimed the voice. 

Luka blinked, taking in the room. The machine was humming. There was someone under it. Luka recognized her, it had to be a woman. Everything sounded different, but—

"Help!" the person exclaimed as the machine grew louder, and Luka suddenly figured it out. "Help, please!"

Miku Hatsune. She saw it now, her hair, her overalls, all blurry, but—

"Who are you calling for?!" Gakupo asked, mockingly. "There's nobody left in the whole building!"

Luka saw how Miku wriggled and writhed to get loose, the way she had when she'd been the one trapped under the arch. She felt her heart start to race again, beating at a lighter, faster tempo than it ever had before. 

A smaller heart.

She was a cat. 

In a cage. 

Luka lunged for the locking mechanism, and quickly heard, to her surprise, a click. The door eased open, and she remembered how hurriedly Gakupo had closed it; he'd been careless. 

She'd stop it. She could. If only—

Luka hesitated at the multi-story drop before her. And in that second, a blinding white light flooded the room.

Too late. Luka let out a dismayed scream which sounded foreign to her own ears as the machine hummed louder than ever before, feeding a screaming flash of light. And, in the next second, just like that, it was over. There was nothing under the arch but what had to be a pile of clothing. 

Luka felt her heart drop, watching as Gakupo approached the pile and pulled from it a limp body, easily carried with one hand. 

"You—?!" Gakupo exclaimed. "Now you're money! What?! A siamese...? Seal— *Blue* point?! Where's the logic in that?! You're a janitor!"

And then, Miku, as a cat, let out a long, mournful...meow. Luka felt her heartbeat accelerate all the more, realizing the real horror of this. 

Cats. They were cats. And they'd stay here, as cats, unless...

Luka watched as he approached the wall of cages, completely missing the fact that Luka's cage door had swung open; he was going for the other end of the room.

"Now you, I can sell!" he exclaimed victoriously, and that only made Luka's gut sink even more. "Not some mongrel! But that does beg the question..."

There was another meow, pleading, and Luka stopped listening to his rambling, remembering that cats always landed on their feet, a shoulder-height drop meant nothing to them, and flung herself to the floor.

It felt like a three story fall.

She landed with a thud and a pained yowl. 

She was a cat. 

But she had no practice being a cat. 

"What—?!"

Luka heard Miku, because it had to be Miku, start to spit and hiss and screech. She sounded tired; she was probably as discombobulated as Luka had been. Gakupo swore, and just as Luka opened her eyes, she saw another cat, a pale one, also hit the floor, but at Gakupo's feet. Miku clearly hadn't had the time to completely come to; she lay there, limp, while Gakupo stepped back, hissing. 

A strong smell she couldn't name entered the room.

"Bitch!" he exclaimed. "My hand!"

Luka rushed forward, her heart racing, her breathing hard, panic setting in, quickly finding that she had no practice running on four legs either, finding that her configuration didn't give her a choice, and that the panic made her movement jarringly intuitive. While the other cats in the cages meowed encouragingly, Luka latched herself to his leg, claws sinking into skin through cloth, the feeling sickening, making him step back more.

"Fuck! Get off me!" 

He backhanded her, hard. Luka fell to the floor a second time, sore beyond words, seeing stars, but saw between blinks, out of the corner of her eye, how Miku slowly gained her footing. 

Luka rushed towards her and urged her towards the wall, pushing her up and to her feet by nudging her with all she had; her own head. 

Miku was so small. So tiny. 

Cats. They were cats. 

Thankfully, Miku obeyed, probably also finding the whole movement thing horribly novel and chillingly easy. 

Where they were going, Luka didn't know. But they had to get out. 

Where the hell was there a way out. 

The door, no. But—

"Get back here, you two!" he exclaimed. 

"Back off!" Luka shot back, or wanted to. It came out as a horrible, distorted yowl. A chill went down her spine as she realized that she was sinking claws into the floor, that all her hair— No, fur, her fur was all standing on end, making her look bigger. Gakupo wasn't easily fooled, though, pacing towards her with long legs, heavy steps. 

A single stomp would kill her.

Luka quickly lost her bravado. She turned tail and ran.

An urgent meow directed her; she followed the pale splotch in the dark room, all still so vague and grey and blurry, realizing that Miku had climbed up the wall somehow. As Luka drew near, she learned Miku had climbed the cabling. Luka hurried to follow.

"Don't— No, Luka!"

At a dizzying pace,  but also just in time, Luka scrambled to the very top, never having had such ease hauling her own bodyweight before. Right. The square cube law. But she didn't have time for that. She reached the top, realizing that Miku was there, her own fur puffed up. At least she looked bigger from up close. Luka wasn't sure. Miku was also pawing at her face, shaking her head.

If Luka guessed right, she wasn't the only one struggling with her eyes. Luka looked around, as best as she could, while Gakupo vociferated from below.

"Get down here, you two!"

Miku, to Luka's surprise, hissed indignantly. Had she also tried to shape words? Luka wouldn't be surprised if she'd given it her best shot. 

But out, they had to get out. They couldn't spend hours here, screaming at each other. 

Luka paced the cabling, realizing more and more that she couldn't see a damn thing, and that her whiskers, because she had whiskers, because she was a cat, were helping her identify the nearby obstacles. When she heard something behind her, she even felt her ears rotate on top of her skull. Miku was following. But her ears had moved on their own.

None of this was right. None of this. 

They had to get out of here.

"I can feed you if you come back!" Gakupo said. "And maybe I'll change your litterboxes if I'm feeling particularly gracious!" 

Another hiss from Miku, while the other cats meowed and yowled. Luka tried to focus on the goal at hand, to calm down her breathing.

Home. She needed— Home, to call a friend. Meiko, her parents. They'd help. Call the police, get Gakupo to turn them back—

But they needed a way out, first!

Luka felt her breathing accelerate even more as she looked around. Nothing but cables underfoot, a concrete wall on one side, the room to the other. 

"There's nothing up there!" Gakupo insisted. "So be good little kittens and come back down here!"

Luka blinked, trying, in vain, to sharpen her vision, paying him no mind. Miku hurried to her side, and Luka heard her breathing hard, too. It smelled bad. Like metal, like—

Luka instantly, instinctively, knew it was fear. She smelled Miku's fear.

"Come down!" Gakupo hollered. "Right now!!!" 

Right after, Luka heard a faint wooshing sound, opposite Gakupo. Luka perked her ears up, and heard it again, then again. The fan. It was a subtle sound. She never should've heard it, normally. But these ears definitely served their purpose... 

She smelled fresh air. Or it had to be. 

She saw Miku consider it, turning towards it, making small-half-lunges only to reconsider the jump, or the timing of it, with each whoosh of the blades. Luka readied herself to follow, debated climbing down a little first. It had to be a way out, right? If it smelled like outside...?

"Come out, come out, wherever you are..."

Miku jumped first, with a thud. Luka tried to time it right, seeing nothing at all or close, just vague shapes. She tried listening to the sounds, tried to time it. Suddenly, Miku meowed, calling. Luka trusted her and jumped. 

She fell for a devastatingly long time, but she landed behind the fan, in the metal case, no harm done, on her four feet. She was getting better at this, fast. Good.

But now what?!

"Come back here!" Gakupo screamed. "Where are you— No! Don't—!"

The fan suddenly stopped, and Luka realized he knew exactly where they were, and probably had access to this space. 

They were running out of time.

Her heart was going to beat right out of her chest. She looked around, in vain, seeing only darkness, her whiskers telling her there was nothing but a rough wall in front of her. Miku paced alongside her, then meowed again, her claws—claws!—scraping against metal.

Then, just like that, she was gone. 

She'd seemingly disappeared through the wall.

Luka followed, pushing, feeling the rough surface of what had to be a filter. There, it gave way, and Luka pushed with all her might to follow, digging her own nails into the metal, forcing herself through a space barely bigger than her head. 

"No! Don't you dare!" 

She pushed at it, pushed through, and fell. 

What had once felt like three stories was suddenly a joke. She fell for ages, twisting her body around to get her feet under her, everything colorless and vague, and when her whiskers warned her that something was coming, it was already too late.

A branch knocked into her, then another, and after what felt like an eternity, she rolled into a bush below.

She gasped, felt her limbs; everything hurt, but everything felt like it was still there. Looking above her, she saw only the huge, smooth surface of one of the numerous buildings of Panthera Technologies through the dense leaves of whatever tree had saved her. It was all so blurry she couldn't even see the filter she had pushed through.

There was a meow at her side. 

Miku.

Luka looked around, saw her pale shape in the darkness. And there, behind her, Luka saw  the distant city lights.

Luka didn't think about it for more than a second.

She ran, with Miku hot on her heels.

None of this felt real. This had to be a bad dream. A joke. Some sort of sensorial tricky, a prank the likes of which she couldn't imagine. But she couldn't be a cat, re-learning what fresh air and dirt smelled like. She couldn't be a cat, feeling whiskers on her face and wrists tell her of every blade of grass she passed by. She didn't have a long spine that trailed behind her as a tail. She didn't walk on four feet. She wasn't virtually blind, confined to this horrible greyscale, blurry vision. 

And she wasn't, after all this walking, just now getting to the fence circling the compound.

She was so small. 

Movement and sound next to her startled her out of her thoughts. Right, Miku. Miku had also— They'd both—

To her surprise, Miku squeezed herself under the fire fence, then turned around to face her. Luka could barely make out her shape, knowing which side of her was the front only because of how she had moved. Sure, there was the blurry presence of a head, some pointy ears perhaps, unmistakably a cat, but Luka's vision was so, so bad. 

How did Miku even know about this gap in the fence...? Luka sought it, and her whiskers confirmed, somehow, that there was an opening through which she could squeeze herself. She did so, feeling her fur-covered body rub against the metal, squeezing her four feet under her. 

She was a cat. 

Four-legged. Whiskers. Tail. Maybe four to six kilos. Obligate carnivore. Middle—

Middle of the food chain. 

Luka stared at this cat that was suddenly so big compared to her, just slightly smaller than she was, silvery in hue in her black-and-white vision, and knew she was looking at Miku, knew that they'd spoken mere minutes prior, not even an hour at this point, and wondered how the hell they could communicate. Luka looked beyond Miku and still saw the bright lights of the city, and wondered if Miku had the same thought. She had no way to communicate it, and had no desire to hear her own voice again, all distorted by a cat's throat. 

So she simply started walking, and after a couple of paces, looked behind herself to check that Miku was still there. She'd known already, thanks to her ears, that Miku had followed, but she wanted Miku to see that Luka intended her to do so. 

All was going well so far.

It would be a long walk.

But there was nothing else they could do. Go back there? No way in hell, Gakupo would find them eventually. Or someone else, and that was the way to get reported; animals weren't tolerated on the property. Luka needed to find her way home, or to a friend's house, and struggled to remember, through the haze of adrenaline, who was closest to the highway. She didn't have her keys... How would she get inside her own home...? Maybe her friends' place would be a better bet. Or maybe Miku had a plan...?

As they walked, slowly heading through the tall grass towards the highway, the roar of cars progressively got louder. It was still a long walk, though, and even longer to the city, so Luka broke out into a little jog, hearing Miku do the same. If they could maintain that pace—

She couldn't maintain this pace. 

Her energy left her startlingly quickly. Luka slowed, breathing hard, her heart racing, feeling excessively warm all too quickly, and remembered something else; hunters, yes. But not persistence predators like humans. Humans could jog for hours for fun thanks to their ability to sweat, to thermo-regulate. Cats decidedly could not do that.

Devastating, to learn first-hand. 

She heard Miku breathe hard behind her. Luka wanted to look her in the eye, talk to her somehow, but just couldn't. She couldn't see, couldn't say a word. So, mute, she just caught her breath, and walked on.

Just walking. That had to be okay. And maybe sit down for a bit from time to time to catch her breath from that, too, she'd see. 

Together, they walked through the tall grass, the cars getting louder still. Soon, they were close enough to see their lights, to feel the rumbling of the vehicles as they tore over the tarmac. They had no choice but to walk parallel, Luka keeping to the grass so that nobody would have the well-meaning but ultimately detrimental idea of 'saving' them. Luka did want help, but from people who knew her. If she were to end up locked in someone's home? She'd never get out. Neither would Miku. 

Poor Miku. She shouldn't have gotten involved in this. Luka looked over her shoulder again, seeing Miku follow, her head held high. She was looking around, the movements quick, and Luka somehow saw this translate through the grey blur.

Fear. Luka smelled fear. 

Luka paused and paid attention, listening over the roar of the cars. 

There was rustling in the grass. 

Without warning, Miku yowled and broke into a mad sprint. Luka mirrored her, keeping pace, hearing the wild thrashing of something tearing through the grass behind them. 

Middle of the food chain. 

Luka wanted to scream. 

They couldn't run for long. Her lungs were burning. Her muscles were cooking. And Miku— Miku was falling behind. 

Miku let out a pained meow, breathless, agonized. 

Luka stopped and turned to face whatever pursued them. She couldn't see, still couldn't, and perhaps that was a blessing. All she saw was a blur, a large dark shape in the grass. Not as tall as Gakupo, barely bigger than herself. Good. Luka felt her fur stand on end and arched her back and hissed and spat, claws out, swinging madly. 

It felt like an overreaction, at least until a claw caught flesh and drew blood. 

There was that scent again. 

Something let out a high-pitched yelp as Luka skittered back, her heart thundering in her chest. She felt Miku behind her, heard her breathing. 

The shape wasn't done with them. It approached again, and Luka started her fanfare again, hissing and making noise and making a show. 

To her surprise, Miku suddenly joined her side, all puffed up, making a ruckus. 

The shape went away. 

Luka kept the pose for a bit. And she felt, as the fear ebbed, so stupid. Back arched, the side of her body facing the opponent, tail high, ears back, claws out, the classic cat pose. But it worked. She slowly relaxed, listening out for more creatures in the grass, while Miku did the same at her side.

They'd—

The horror of it was dawning on her.

They'd been hunted. Something had considered them for a meal. 

Luka wanted to be sick. 

Miku meowed, and when Luka turned to face her, Miku broke into a dead sprint, following the highway. 

Luka followed, wanting to get out of this wilderness as fast as possible.

There was the wilderness, full of predators, ticks, who knew what. And then there was the city, with everything else. 

Luka wanted to be relieved when they got to the city at dawn. They'd walked the bulk of the stretch, jogging when they could, sprinting rarely, resting insultingly often, but soon sunlight graced the horizon and they were surrounded by buildings, roads, and—

And everything a city contained. 

And Luka, damn it all, was still blind, or felt like it. She heard everything, or close; every footstep, voice, car engine, bark of a dog. She saw, to her own surprise, the blue of the sky. Miku was still silvery in color, the one increasingly familiar shape she clung to. But there was nothing else. Sometimes, Luka saw a blue purse. A blue car. But that was it. It was all grey and blurry. 

She couldn't, for the life of her, find a damn thing. 

They spent the morning searching, in vain. Luka tried to map the city out, but couldn't read the signs, the street names, the store displays. She didn't know where anyone was. And, when she allowed Miku to lead, they got nowhere, either. Just zigzagging through the city, each block feeling like a marathon, the summer sun beating down on them. 

Luka was starving. She was so thirsty. And afraid, she was so afraid. It was like they couldn't walk a single step without being confronted with some threat; a thronging crowd with their crushing footfalls. Someone walking their dog, who would bark and snarl at them. Other cats, hissing and thrashing at them when they drew close.

In the span of a single morning, Luka learned one important lesson; Miku was safe, and the rest of the world simply wasn't. They knew to keep off the roads, thankfully, but sidewalks weren't an option anymore. They learned to sneak into back years, into the dark alleyways, hiding in shrubs, or climbing over fences. Luka got more and more acquainted with her new limitations, and abilities, at an insulting pace. 

She didn't want to get used to being a cat. She wasn't supposed to be a cat. 

But neither was Miku. And damn it all, they'd get out of this. But they couldn't if they'd die. 

Looking for a familiar place quickly turned into looking for food, for water. When Miku desperately lapped at a random, rancid-smelling puddle, Luka wanted to turn her nose up to it, but knew she'd pay the price for it later, so she joined her, hoping that her cat immune system was up for the challenge. 

And then, it looked like Miku was just following her nose.

Luka wished she had her confidence as they rounded a corner, and another. She seemed to know what to make of each scent that wafted by. Luka had intuitively put a pin in the scent of fear, and learned the scent of blood from Gakupo and their hunter, but the rest was a total mystery to her. A cat brain was wired for different things, and all the smells she knew of a city were gone. Luka couldn't make out car exhaust from the delicious scents that might waft out from a kitchen window. It was a mystery to her. All she could do was follow Miku and her more confident nose, hoping that it would pay off. 

The more she watched Miku walk, following her, the more she made out the details of her shape. Miku had a long, grey tail, four grey paws, and her face and ears were equally grey. The rest of her body was a lighter tone, almost white. She had long ears, which pivoted visibly, even in Luka's poor vision. 

When Luka trailed behind at just the right distance, she swore the image of Miku grew sharper. But then fear took hold of her and Luka hurried to catch up, not wanting to be parted from the only ally she had. 

Eventually, when the sun was high in the sky and Luka was trembling and feeling nauseous already from the water, they ducked into a dark alleyway. Luka heard scurrying rats, and feared more cats, threats, but there were none. It smelled strange, though, and Luka feared what they might find. Miku, for her part, turned her attention to an open trash container. To Luka's surprise, Miku measured her jump, then leapt in.

Or tried to. 

Miku collided with the side of the container, falling back to the floor in an embarrassing tumble. Luka rushed over, wanting to ask if she was okay, fearing the sound that might come out of her throat if she did. But Miku dusted herself off, shaking with her whole body like a dog shaking off water, but more clumsily, and then tried again, undeterred. 

She cleared the edge of the container this time, landing inside with what had to be the rustle of plastic garbage bags and the gentle squish of food and crinkle of containers. Luka looked up, keeping a pained lookout, wishing her vision would return to her. She wondered if Miku also still suffered and was putting on a brave face. 

It took a minute or two, but Miku eventually emerged from the container, holding a container almost as big as she was. It was flat, and sparkled a bit, and Luka thought she identified those plastic, wrapped trays of meat that were sold in the store. Miku threw it to the ground, then awkwardly followed; she landed on her four feet, first try. 

Luka, after being sure that Miku was safe, turned her attention to the box. It had, thankfully, landed tray-side down. Miku pawed at it stubbornly, claws out, tearing through the clingfilm. 

It smelled delicious. 

Luka couldn't identify it, not exactly. It smelled like something edible, though. That was for sure. Miku grabbed part of it and tried yanking it out of the tray and cling film, but the container merely followed. Luka stood on the corner of the tray, her added weight helping Miku pull the food out. 

Luka recognized the shape, if not the smell; a fish. Thrown away, probably past the expiration date. 

She couldn't find it in herself to care. She lunged for the scaled hide, Miku doing the same, sinking teeth into raw, flaking flesh. 

Her teeth were too long. 

Her tongue was textured. It had barbs on it. 

She couldn't chew, not like she used to; the food fell out of the sides of her mouth.

She felt like a monster, tearing into the raw meat of a dead animal with her face. It was debasing. This wasn't what a proper person did. 

She was too hungry to give a damn. Luka ate her fill, as did Miku, until they were left with nothing more than a bare skeleton, half-resting in a tray. 

Luka instantly felt better. More focused. She could pay attention to all the city noises around them, sort through the scents that came to her. Not that she could identify all of them, but at least she wasn't so desperate for food. She licked her lips, which were covered with hair, with a tongue that was covered in barbs, getting the rest of the flaky meat off her face, and turned towards Miku, who sat, looking content. 

She owed Miku her life, it felt like. When they'd be human again, she'd ask how she knew to find the fish in the trash, but right then, she wanted to show her gratitude. 

She'd been, she realized,horribly selfish. It'd been hard not to be in this terrifying situation, but she was sharing it. Miku was in this, too. And Miku was actually pulling her weight, finding water and food. 

Luka had no idea how to communicate her thanks. She approached, timid, seeing nothing but her blurry image, and lowered her head, wondering how well Miku could make out her image in turn. 

When Miku merely tilted her head, the international sign for confusion, or attempting to understand, Luka faltered. She pawed at the container, refusing to use her voice. She nodded. 

Maybe Miku understood that. Maybe not. All Luka knew was that she stood, suddenly, and Luka heard it too; approaching footsteps. 

"Get out of here, you filthy animals!" someone shouted. "Shoo, shoo!" 

Luka didn't stay to watch. Miku ran, Luka followed, determined to never let her out of her sight. 

They searched all day for a friendly face, a place they knew. Luka kept her eyes peeled for familiar places, cars, voices, but with everything looking, sounding, and smelling different, she could just as well have been deafblind with an onion strapped under her nose. But when the city grew dark, fatigue set in like nothing else. They'd been awake for almost two days at that point, spurred on by nothing more than their needs for survival and a piercing fear. After hours of searching, finding nothing, hunger creeping back in, thirst, it was getting dark again, and Luka desperately needed sleep. 

There was no real safe place outdoors in a city, it felt like. Gardens were occupied by other animals, by children. The streets had their own, obvious dangers. There were no indoors to turn to. Luka followed Miku for hours, but Miku didn't seem like she knew where she was going, either. And with her vision, Luka struggled sometimes to even guess what kind of place they were in. A sunlit alleyway, so large because she was so small? A dark street bathing in the shade of a skyscraper? A dead zone between apartment buildings?

Luka just didn't know. 

When they were walking along a wall, the sun long gone, the city quieter but never quiet, Luka swearing she was going to pass out, Miku suddenly stopped and looked at the building. Luka heard it, too; the rustling of some machine, it sounded like. The sounds were all distorted but some sounds just felt inherently mechanical. 

To her surprise, Miku jumped up, and slipped in through a gap in the window. 

Luka wanted to protest; they didn't know what kind of space this was. It could be someone's home, or worse. She didn't want to intrude, or—

Fuck it all, she was a cat. And she was so, so tired. 

She approached the open window. It was ajar, but not on a vertical axis; it hung open and outwards on a horizontal axis, the widest opening at the top of the frame. Luka would have to jump, land on the thin frame, and weasel her way in. Miku was smaller than her, but...

Luka hesitated. 

There was a faint meow from inside. Miku. 

"Hold on," Luka wanted to say, but she bit her tongue. 

She was scared. She didn't know this body, not really. Only a day in it, and all they'd done was run and walk. Her first jump hadn't gone so well and she couldn't see a damn thing. 

She measured carefully, trying to focus, then jumped. 

She jumped way too high. 

Right. That blasted square-cube law. 

Luka didn't have time to think more. She slammed into the wall, barely able to bring her paws up to absorb the shock of the collision, then crashed into the opening of the window, partially falling in. Luka managed to squeeze the rest of her way in, landing in a tumble of limbs, feeling thoroughly embarrassed. But Miku was standing there, her grey tail standing tall, and Luka had to admit that even if her pride was injured, she was mostly okay. Having less mass made impacts, in turn, less devastating. 

With that out of the way, hoping Miku couldn't see that in too much detail, Luka took in the space around her. 

Mostly pale. There were shapes hanging above the floor on the far side of the room. A large thing was up against the wall. Two pale boxes. 

This was a laundry room. The washing machine and a dryer, a boiler, clothes hanging to dry. Smooth greyish white floors and walls. Pipes on the ceiling. 

This was a perfect place. Miku had once again saved them. Except the washing machine was running, so someone was bound to come in here. Two cats would stand out. 

Luka got to her feet one last time and quickly paced the area. Miku followed, probably confused. Luka, in her search, found the door into the laundry room, so she knew where to look for movement. There was no real space to hide, though. There was some space behind the boiler, but only from certain angles, if nobody deigned to look. 

It would have to do. 

She turned towards Miku, then looked at the area behind the boiler, then back at her. Miku seemed to understand, approaching, sitting down, then sagging to the floor, looking spent. Luka followed, hoping to maintain a polite distance. Once her body weight rested on the floor instead of on her own four feet, the fatigue hit her like a hammer. She sighed, realizing that she wouldn't be able to stay awake for very long. Miku had rested her head already; she must have passed out. 

Luka followed suit. 

When a light clicked on, it was blinding. Luka woke instantly, probably having been half-asleep this whole time, and wondered why she was on the floor in a comedically large room.

And then it all hit her. 

She was a cat and Miku was also a cat and they were hiding behind a boiler and she was starving and she was so, so tired. 

And afraid.

Luka had never known such fear. 

She felt her fur puff up when she heard footsteps. She leaned slightly, looking past the boiler, seeing someone coming to collect their laundry. The person, still blurry and grey, sifted through their things, put some in the dryer, and walked closer to hang some things up. Luka stayed low, small, praying that they wouldn't be seen, as her ears picked up on the faint sound of music; they were listening to something with earpods, probably. 

Don't turn around, she thought. Don't. Please, don't.

When they were done hanging stuff up, they simply walked away, and shut the door behind them. 

They'd gone unnoticed. 

Luka breathed a little easier.

She was so hungry. The fish had only fed them for so long. She wondered if there was a sink in this room that she'd missed; there usually was one of those in a laundry room, and a sip of water would be welcome. 

Her eyes, instead, drifted over to Miku.

Blurry. Undefined. But Luke knew that silvery and grey shape to be Miku, after having followed her around for hours, the previous day. 

Just days prior, they were nothing more than distant colleagues, who worked in the same building. Miku always had been polite, resourceful. She had a bright smile and beautiful eyes. She worked hard.

She hadn't deserved this. Luka felt a pang of guilt, feeling somehow responsible for her fate. Of course, she knew it was Gakupo's fault that they were cats, but if Luka had braved that jump, if she'd been a little quicker, less groggy...

Who was she kidding. There had been nothing she could do. Even if she had jumped, the second it would have changed wouldn't have made a difference. Miku had been doomed from the moment she'd been handcuffed to the machine. 

Still, that didn't shake Luka's feeling of responsibility. Maybe Miku had followed them into the room without them realizing. In that case, it was Luka following Gakupo into that room that had lured Miku in, sealing her fate. 

But neither of them had asked for this. And Luka wondered, if they'd ever get out, how they'd come out of this. Luka would take her to dinner just to thank her for that delicious fish she'd gotten out of the trash. They might become good friends, for having shared and survived the hardship together. Without, however, having swapped a word.

But first, they had to survive. And that felt hard enough. Luka didn't know where they were in the city. She had no idea where her friends were. It felt impossible.

Right then, they had this laundry room. They had each other.  Nothing else. 

As Luka looked down at Miku's sleeping form, she noticed, a little further up, that a sliver of the floor, wall, and boiler looked sharp in her vision. It wasn't much, but everything that distance from her face...?

She was too tired to think about it any longer. And already too sick of looking around with eyes that didn't see. She rested her head back on her own wrist, her paw really, and let her eyes shut again. Seconds later, the timer on the light ran out, bathing them in darkness. Just as well. 

When Luka woke up next, it was to a restless motion. She blinked awake and remembered for the second time that she was nothing more than a cat, seeing Miku, also a cat, pacing impatiently. 

Luka understood; she was starving.

She got to her feet, and when Miku saw that she was awake, she led the charge up to the window, above the machines. Luka followed right behind. The window was still open, thankfully, and though it took some effort to slip outside, they were soon out on the hunt for something to eat and drink. 

It was late morning, if Luka had to guess from the light. There were people and there was traffic and it was hell. They learned from the previous day, sticking to the dark corners, the hedges, the quiet areas, sifting through the trash. They had some success, though it quickly occurred to Luka that she didn't even know what was safe for cats to eat. The half-eaten can of tuna was a welcome find though, shared between them, Miku kicking what was left of it in her direction, somewhat clumsily. She also stumbled upon another good find, a piece of steak, well-done and thoroughly flavorless but it fed them all the same. There was a leaking gutter that provided them with some water that was slightly better than a stagnant puddle. Then they found a relatively quiet, uninhabited backyard. Or maybe the owners were out for work. Miku plopped down in the late afternoon sun, looking spent, and Luka felt the same. Either they hadn't fully recovered from their day of despair, or cats really did need sleep that often. Either way, Luka gratefully sank into the softer grass and dirt, looking around warily, still so afraid all the time. 

They were so small. So vulnerable.

As she looked around, though, she saw once again that very faint sliver of sharp area in her vision. Some blades of grass stood out, fine and detailed, among the blur of green. Luka looked around, finding it consistent. 

A lens without an adjustable focal point, then. Or maybe their brains weren't wired right with their bodies, preventing them from focusing their vision. She didn't know. She turned her attention to Miku, and stood again, carefully measuring her paces. 

Miku turned to watch her, curious, as Luka tried to line her up with the sharp area of her vision. It took a few seconds, but she knew she got it right when she finally saw Miku's face for the first time. The second she did, she saw her expression light up, her ears going higher up on her skull, eyes widening.

Miku saw it, too. 

Luka took some time to study her coworker. Gakupo had said something about blue point, but Luka didn't know the first thing about cat coats. Miku did look grayish, so maybe there was a pale blue sheen to her that she couldn't quite see. As Luka had guessed, Miku was entirely pale grey, with her legs, her tail, ears, and a little mask on her face showing a darker grey. 

Her eyes were a beautiful blue. And she had slitted pupils, now, which were sharp and narrow as they took her in.

Somehow, in them, Luka recognized the friendly, bubbly gaze of her coworker. Despite those eyes, she recognized Miku effortlessly. 

She saw Miku's tail flick, as Miku studied her in return. 

Luka let her look. And it was eerie, chilling, to realize that Miku wasn't emoting like Luka expected her. From Miku, she got indecipherable tail flicks, slight twitches of her ears. And Luka realized, even worse, that she was the same; her ears moved in tandem with her thoughts, her tail also moved accordingly. Her face had become an unexpressive facade. Luka wanted to smile, but couldn't find the muscles to. 

This is what they had become. Luka sighed, and slowly approached Miku again, unwilling to be so far from her one and only friend in this hellscape. It was an admittedly peaceful hellscape, at least for the moment. The garden was quiet and uninhabited, save for the occasional bug that flitted by. No other pets, no cats roaming; they'd stay until something might come and chase them, or until their hunger demanded them to move. 

It was too dangerous to consider anything else.

It felt hopeless. 

Luka thought for a moment, thinking what they could possibly do. She tried, for one part, to remember the smell of dirt and grass, so she could more easily find gardens in the future. For another, she thought of ways to communicate with people that might be convincing, but she thought back to the videos her friends had shown; more often than not, cat oddities were a joke. She'd have to put on an undeniable display. Or figure out some plot, a scheme. If someone could give her access to a keyboard, she was sure she could touch-type her way through it. 

A bug flew around again, Luka's eyes flitting to it automatically, and Luka realized that this movement had been sharp in her vision despite not being in the sharp range of her vision. When another bug hopped in the grass, she noted that, too. Miku's tail flicked, capturing her attention.

Right. Cats didn't rely on colors to hunt. Movement. How had she not remembered this before? How hadn't she noticed?

She wished she could communicate this to Miku somehow. But with her foreign mouth, cheeks, and tongue, there was no hope. She rested her head, and wondered what the wonderful smell was, past the dirt and grass. Were there flowers in the grass? Maybe a neighbor had a nice floral arrangement growing. 

No matter. She needed a nap, and would have it.

They were out and about again, come nightfall. When the sun was just setting, but it wasn't totally dark, it seemed to hit a sweet spot for their eyes where the night vision kicked in but they still saw relatively okay without it. Add the knowledge to let her eyes automatically jump to quick movements, and an awareness of her sharp field of vision, and Luka was suddenly getting around a lot easier.

Miku had probably figured out most of this ages prior. Luka felt a little foolish, but then again, nobody had ever taught her how to survive as a cat in school or anything. She'd just wanted to help people, invent groundbreaking technologies, and save lives.

At least they were getting reasonably good at being cats, though. Miku snagged them another meal, bringing her a half-eaten fish out of the dumpster with something that had to be pride. Normally, Luka would curl her lip and turn her nose to such an offering, but that was such a life saver that she wished she could thank her with words. 

Another drink from a safe-smelling puddle later, then they sniffed around for another place to shelter in for the night. Their luck had to run out eventually, and this time, despite hours of walking around, there were no conveniently-located basement windows left ajar. Miku did find another window, higher up, recessed a little in the wall, creating a sill that they could rest on. It got them off the floor, out of the elements, even if they were outdoors.

Minutes later, it started to rain. 

Luka shivered, but curled up, knowing to pull her tail up and around her feet to keep them warm. Miku did the same, looking at the alleyway they were in as the water came pouring down. 

What a miserable mess. Luka missed her home. She missed her warm bed and her fluffy bathrobe. She missed cooking her own meals, she missed her family, she missed going out with her friends. 

Someday, she hoped. At least she wasn't alone in this hell. 

She looked at her colleague, and relearned the smell of rain, of water. Petrichor unlike she'd ever smelled it before, somehow more savory than sweet. And there, under it all, a strangely floral scent, like from the garden. Gone was the acrid, metallic stench of fear; they were relatively safe here, so that made sense. But try as she might, she couldn't find the source of the floral scent. 

Unexpectedly, Miku suddenly took her paw, licked it, then rubbed her face with it. This, she repeated a few times, and Luka watched in something akin to horror. 

What was she doing...?!

And then it made sense. Hygiene. Neither of them had done anything in that regard in...ages. Days. So Miku was making every attempt at cleaning her face, there was no crime in that. And doing it as cats did was probably the best way. When in Rome, and so on.

Luka looked down at her own paw. A paw. With claws. She flexed her fingers and saw, despite the blur, the bright little hooks as they emerged from her fingers. 

Luka breathed uneasily, lifted her paw to her face, and, fighting all apprehension, licked it. 

It wasn't what she expected. The dreaded wet-tongue-on-hair feeling wasn't what she got. Her barbed tongue, instead, purposefully combed and cleaned the fur she licked, leaving her to spit out all the grime she collected. 

Disgusting. 

Luka, nonetheless, repeated this motion a few times, cleaning her paw, then rubbing her face with it. 

Fuck, she needed a wash. 

Luka suddenly felt it all over her. She was gross. Spending days walking around outside, covered in this long fur, she needed to groom, desperately. But the thought of bringing her own tongue to her own body, her whole body, it revolted her. She felt nauseous, simultaneously regretting having let it get this bad, and unwilling to do anything about it. 

Inspired, Luka jumped from the windowsill and went to stand in the rain. That could wash her, instead. It sounded like a good solution, a cheat of sorts. 

It was ice cold. 

And by the time Luka felt it, by the time it had permeated her fur and gotten to her skin, it was too late to stop it. Luka yowled despite herself, running back for the sill, shivering. Beside herself, desperately wanting the chill to stop, she licked at herself, her back, her paws, to get the water off, to warm up. 

At least she'd be cleaner, she thought bitterly. No wonder cats avoided water. The feeling itself wasn't unpleasant, it was just...

She wanted nothing more than a warm bath as she shook, shivered, licked some more. Her back, her sides, her legs, her belly. She felt like a dumb, writhing creature, all under Miku's potentially amused stare. 

It smelled floral. 

Luka couldn't make sense why. 

She focused, instead, on herself. This would take hours to dry. 

So be it. Luka kept at it, dreading how much else she had to learn about being a tiny little cat. 

Two days passed in this way. Despite themselves, they were forced to go dumpster diving for their every meal, forced to lick themselves to stay clean when they were resting, finding places to rest, to hide from the world, in a city that was too big, too hostile. They learned their way around though, how to survive as cats, making the best with what they had, keeping their eyes open for anything familiar along the way. The days were dotted with unpleasant experiences, though; Luka was forced to learn that cats shed their claws when an itchy claw made her chew off the old sheath. Sometimes, food or water made them sick, and they had to learn which smells were bad news. They once spent almost a whole night roaming, unable to find anywhere safe to hunker down. It was dreadful, almost all of it permeated by the metallic stench of fear. Whether it was her own or Miku's, Luka wasn't sure.

She was so tired of feeling so afraid all the time. 

One day, about a week into the whole nightmare of being cats, when Luka had just gotten used to this new way to see the world, had just swallowed her pride enough to start grooming herself regularly, or to try to, they were, as usual, just trying to find another bite to eat. Hunger plagued them almost constantly, when it wasn't fatigue, fear. They felt so painstakingly vulnerable, not just being unfamiliar with their new bodies, but by being in such small bodies to begin with. It was terrifying. 

So when they were walking down an alleyway, only to get accosted by another, larger cat, Luka felt more than a little apprehensive. At least this one didn't immediately hiss at them, claws out, but Luka didn't know enough about cat body language to feel safe just yet. 

This one smelled, bizarrely, of oil. Not any oil she knew, not olives or sesame. But there was a strange, natural, oily smell in the air as the cat approached, tail twitching, ears forward, eyes on them. 

Luka didn't know what to do, and looked at Miku for guidance. Fight, flee? They weren't very good at either, but had far more practice fleeing. 

The newcomer's tail twitched, ears immobile, and thus hard to read, but it approached Miku, sniffing cautiously at her face. Miku stood very still, and Luka felt ready to pounce; if she was going to get hurt, it would be Luka's fault, and she wouldn't stand for it. But she wasn't about to unnecessarily start a fight, either. She watched, less than a pace away, as the cat then approached her, sniffing her face, her cheeks.

Luka, carefully, permitted herself to sniff back.

Oil. This cat had a particular scent, and up close, he reeked of it. Or was it his cheeks, specifically? 

He. She knew, suddenly, that it was a male cat. And he was...older. Not a young one, but not a senior, either. He was strong, well-fed. 

How...?

Before she could entertain her curiosity and attempt to smell more of him, see if he just had bad B.O. or whether this was a particular communication by scent that animals often relied on, he turned his attention back to Miku, coming to stand alongside her, turning his head to—

Miku made an indignant noise, whirling around, crouching low to the ground. Before she even knew it, Luka hissed too, claws at the ready, jumping forward, puffing herself up, placing herself between Miku and this cat. He puffed up as well, but didn't look overly aggressive, staying quiet, ears back, wary. 

They stared each other down for a while, Luka realizing that she was letting out a long, low growl in warning. She heard Miku shuffle behind her, not moving much, while the male cat merely stared, then yawned, and excused himself, leaving without a fuss.

That was, Luka realized, probably the best way this could have ended. 

She turned around to check on Miku, finding her cowering, but unhurt. Luka allowed herself to relax, looking around the alley, finding nothing else, no movement, no danger, and returned her attention to Miku.

She wished that they could just talk. "Are you okay," would have been such a welcome phrase right then. But no. Luka had made enough embarrassing sounds for the day. So she merely tilted her head towards Miku, who nodded. 

Some things translated no matter what.

Seconds later, they set off again, in search of their next boon.

As Luka walked, staying more to Miku's side than before, Luka realized that this had probably been a big storm about nothing. Animals communicated by scent, and humans, well, didn't as much. He'd probably just tried to get to know them. So smelling each other's rear was probably indescribably rude by human standards; Luka had probably just interrupted the cat equivalent of handing over a business card. Then again, Miku wasn't a cat, not really. She didn't have to tolerate behaviors that she didn't welcome. Luka certainly wasn't about to let any cat's nose close to her tail. 

But communication by scent...that was good to know. She knew her nose worked differently from how it once had, that all the smells had been warped, but if they could pick up on more valuable information? She'd have to keep that in mind. 

It wasn't much later when Luka got her first lesson in applied scents. They rounded a corner, and out of pure curiosity, Luka sniffed at the solid corner of the building, willing to test a theory. 

Oil. It smelled like that cat. He'd been here.

And she smelled it again. Male. Adult. Healthy. It was like a little portrait, a bouquet of scents mysteriously conveying sense to her rational brain. 

Were cats territorial creatures...? She vaguely remembered such a thing.

Luka swallowed her pride and chirped, hoping to get Miku's attention. When she was sure Miku was watching, she sniffed the concrete corner again, for show, then tilted her head in its direction. She watched Miku approach and do the same, ears flickering, conveying a mess of emotions Luka couldn't read. When the ears went back, though, Luka knew that she understood. 

Over the next day, Luka learned to trust her nose more than her eyes. The buildings all looked the same, the crowds, the cars, it was all such a mess. But the world of scents, as she studied it, looked more and more organized. She knew exactly when they left that oil-cat's stomping grounds and walked into the territory of another cat, whose path they didn't cross. The smell of food started standing out. The stench of dirt, water, it all slowly crossed the veil of fear. The confusing chaos that was the roads, with all the people and exhaust, that was still a mess, but away from all that, the world slowly organized itself. 

The city was cut into little slices. Zones of territory that cats frequented, and left their trails behind. On the bumpers of cars, corners of buildings, branches of shrubs, the leg of a chair, Luka smelled "female, young, angry," and "male, old, infected wound" and "female, adult, strong." Aside from the informative cheek rubs, little fingerprints left behind for other cats to read, Luka also picked up on urine, the scents of other animals, the parts of the city no cats frequented at all. 

It was all informative, and Luka found herself hoping to learn what to do with all the information.

By the time night fell, Luka was the one leading the charge, sniffing everywhere she could, gathering intel, finding that they had stumbled into the territory of another female. She smelled young and hopefully friendly, so Luka hoped for a kind face in a safe territory. She led Miku to another garden, having sniffed out the soil, and together, they found shelter in a bush. Miku gratefully rested her legs, Luka doing the same, admittedly missing the ability to kick her feet up and rest on a mattress, in a chair. She wanted to sag onto her sofa and watch a movie. Or better yet, be back in her office, musing about her research, talking to her colleagues about their findings. The kind of research that made a tangible difference to the world; not this olfactory nonsense that served only to help them survive. Granted, that made the most difference for her in the immediate future, but Luka missed her life. She missed work. She missed the people she knew. She wondered how they were doing. If they suspected Gakupo was the one responsible. 

There was a rustle in the bushes, immediately waking Luka. She perked up, and sure enough, there was a cat. The cat almost walked by, right through the shrub, but it saw them, or smelled them most likely, and paused. Luka saw the flicker of tail, the twitch of ears. So many emotions she just couldn't identify. 

Luka hoped to look friendly, staying on the ground. It was a fellow lady, she hoped. She'd understand more than them how rough it was to live out here. 

Except the ears tilted back as she approached, a low growl in her chest. Alarmed, Luka stood, only to see the stranger lunge for Miku, claws out. 

Miku kicked back with her own alarmed noise, but Luka immediately pounced on the newcomer, her own claws at the ready, a violent hiss in her throat.

She would not, under any circumstance, let anybody—! 

The cat tried to bite her. Luka felt the pressure through her fur.

Fear. So much fear. 

Luka swatted and kicked, unpracticed and accordingly violent and unpredictable. She was larger, stronger than the newcomer, and maybe it was that, maybe she got her with a hit, maybe it was luck, but the other cat ran away, yowling, leaving Luka to stand there, the victor.

Luka realized she had blood on her claws. 

She was breathing heavily. Her heart was racing. 

She'd just been in a real fight. 

She looked back, finding Miku safe, okay. 

That couldn't have lasted more than five seconds. Luka felt like she'd run a marathon.

Miku let out a curious chirp. Luka nodded, indicating that she was okay. No bites or scratches, none that she could feel, anyway. But adrenaline...

Miku approached, head low, and Luka felt her heart rate pick up again, worried that she'd gotten hurt in the initial attack. Just when she was about to vocalize with a chirp of her own, Miku pressed her face against her shoulder. 

Ah. That was a thank you. 

Luka stepped back, unsure how to feel about that. It was Luka's fault that Miku was in this mess in the first place. Not directly, but if it weren't for her... 

Miku didn't owe her anything. 

Luka let herself sink into the soft dirt, not quite turning her back on her colleague, but not wanting to bathe in adulation, either. Miku also rested, wary, and slowly, the fear ebbed, and they let themselves sleep uneasily. 

Yet another day. 

It took surprisingly long for the question to occur to her. Then again, Luka was doing her best to stay alive and stay sane, so that they might one day get out of this hell. Between all the identifying of traces left behind of other cats, following Miku's sharper nose for scraps that they could eat, avoiding other cats out of precaution, avoiding people, avoiding other pets, avoiding most anything really, all while wondering what they could actually do, and brushing herself with her own tongue, Luka felt somewhat justified in taking so long to wonder what she might smell like to another cat.

And, she wondered what Miku might smell like.

It had been a few days since Gakupo had turned them, and Luka was starting to map out the city around them not with blurry sights and geometry she could no longer make sense of, but with scents. She knew to avoid the territory of that female cat who had attacked them, whereas mister oil seemed to be a safe place to venture, until further notice. In fact, she wondered if it might be wise to avoid female cats to begin with; if they were territorial, then two of the same might not be welcome in the same area. That made sense, at least on a biological level. Luka wasn't an expert though, and wished she'd done more research on felines before all this had happened. 

The blessings of hindsight.

But it had to have been almost a week of this nonsense. Being a cat in a place she thought she knew, eating trash and hoping not to die at every corner, accompanied by only a colleague who she couldn't really talk to. Communication was done exclusively with chirps, head tilts, ambiguous waves of the paw, and maybe the tentative deciphering of ear and tail movements. Luka just wanted to apologize for all this, wanted to make sure she was okay, wanted to check in, wanted to talk. 

Normal things. 

Normal life. 

If it was the weekend, Luka would be out socializing, maybe getting lucky with a relative stranger, or hanging out with Meiko and the gang, or visiting her parents. 

God, how she missed them all. 

All she had though, was Miku, and they couldn't even talk. Luka was thankful that it was Miku; she did her best to help, finding food more often than Luka did, which didn't surprise her too much; she had always been the hardworking, dedicated sort. But what Luka wouldn't do for a bout of conversation...!

All the more so when they reached an impasse.

It was noon. They were, once again, starving for food. Luka was tired, having slept poorly from the fear of it all. And she knew that the territory up ahead spelled nothing but bad news; female, adult, strong and mean-smelling. Like sour ginger. But Miku just kept walking ahead, no matter how much Luka called to her. Miku even smelled the cheek rub left behind, but seemed undeterred; she kept going and looking over her shoulder, making sure Luka was following her.

Luka wouldn't. It was stupid and she didn't know what Miku even wanted to go towards. She even meowed in protest, out of despair to communicate anything at all. But Miku wasn't listening. She meowed too, looking somewhere else, evidently less shy about her new voice. 

So Luka stayed. And Miku, after another firm meow, left. 

And then Luka was alone.

And that was the worst thing that could have happened. Or it felt like it, as the reality of the situation sank in. She was a cat, and she was alone, in the big city. 

Luka wanted to cry and found that she couldn't. Cats didn't cry. 

This was a living nightmare.

Feeling betrayed, hurt beyond words, Luka turned away and left in the other direction, hopefully towards safer grounds.

She felt lonely. More alone than ever before. Part of her figured that, alone, Miku wasn't weighing her down anymore, but Miku never had. She'd been a great partner through all of this. 

Luka regretted not following her. But Miku never left little cheek rubs behind. Neither did Luka; they didn't have the instinct nor the habit. She'd never find her again.

She'd never find her again, ever. 

Luka perked up only slightly at the smell of what she'd learned was tuna. It was a more savory, somehow more delicious smell than it had ever been before, so she knew it instantly. 

She would swap the tuna for Miku any day. 

Still, Luka was hungry, as she always was, and she was tired, so she wasn't going to turn her nose up to a free meal. She walked over, finding an opened can of tuna on the floor. A good find. 

Before she could even dig in, suddenly the world collapsed around her. 

A box. 

She was in a box.

She'd been trapped. 

Luka screamed, fear instantly spiking, wondering who, what, where, why. There was laughter, distorted by her new ears, and voices. There were slits in the box, letting her see flashes of light, slivers of faces, of smiles. 

"That one walked right into it!"

"Stupid cat. Let's clip its whiskers off!"

No! No, Luka relied on them far too much to sense what was close to her, she couldn't see, she couldn't—

She yowled at the laughter. 

"Maybe we should trim its nails or something!"

"Or we can shave it, that's always funny!"

No, no! Luka panted, nails digging deep, wondering what they were going to do to her. She didn't know what she feared most. Her fur protected her from the cold. Her nails defended her from the world—

When she saw a hand, she scratched viciously. 

"Aw, fuck!" 

"What the shit?! It's smart now?"

"Let's just kill it, we—"

There was suddenly yowling, hideous screaming and screeching. The kids around Luka suddenly shouted in protest, cussing and kicking, but they left quickly with exclamations of confusion and rage. 

Two blue eyes stared at her through an opening in the box.

Miku.

Luka meowed, just wanting to voice relief, wanting to cry, needing to get it out there, unsure what words she would shape and ultimately not caring. 

"Miku, thank goodness, you're back."

It took some pushing, some rolling around, but they finally figured out how to get Luka out of the box, and Luka approached Miku gratefully, before realizing her mistake.

She'd been the stubborn one. She should have gone with. She lowered her head, how they'd apologized to each other so far, only to see Miku do the same.

Miku had been the one to leave her.

Equally guilty, Luka figured. 

Luka stepped forward, her whiskers telling her that Miku was close, and pushed her face into Miku's shoulder. She felt Miku do the same.

Luka really, really needed a hug right around then. She'd do anything for a warm embrace. For a sliver of safety. 

She wanted to cry so desperately. 

But at least she had her one ally. 

Miku was the one to withdraw first, and Luka followed when she trotted away, realizing that Miku was backtracking to where they'd separated. There, Luka saw a whole piece of salmon. 

She'd meant to just go get it. She'd come back for her, to share it. Only for Luka to be gone. 

Miku sat proudly by the piece of filet. It wasn't perfect, torn apart and covered in grime, but it would feed them and smelled like it wouldn't make them sick. 

Luka felt like shit. 

Again, she pushed her face into Miku's shoulder, an apology this time, wanting so badly to voice her regret. 

Miku, she—

She smelled of fear. Lingering adrenaline. Metallic. But there was something else there. Vaguely floral.

Miku smelled like something almost sweet, but not quite. Buttery, almost. Warm and comforting and smooth. A friendly, reassuring smell. 

Luka lifted her head, then gently, timidly, sniffed at her cheek. Miku stayed still, letting her.

Yes. Luka smelled Miku's entire profile. Female, adult, friendly, scared. So scared. Worried, actually. Luka closed her eyes, taking in the more subtle notes.

Miku had been worried sick. Not just afraid for her own life, a scent Luka knew well. But she'd been worried. For Luka.

She didn't deserve it in the slightest.

Luka felt her own ears press against her skull in her own dismay and regret. When Miku tilted to sniff at her cheek in return, Luka let her, hoping that whatever was on her cheek spelled out her emotions clearly enough for Miku to pick up on them.

"I'm sorry," Luka hoped to say. 

Miku took her time, timid but thorough. It was a strange thing to do, after all. Humans didn't normally do this. But Luka craved any means of communication so badly...

Miku's entire profile immediately changed as she stepped forward and rubbed her forehead against Luka's jaw. The air smelled warmer, almost sweeter, safer. Less fear. More reassuring. 

"It's okay."

Luka leaned into the push, her gratitude, knowing Miku would somehow pick up on that as well. 

They'd had their first real conversation in a week without saying a word. But it had worked. It had worked for countless cats throughout history, and right then, it had finally worked for them, too. 

They dined on the salmon, and Luka felt less lonely than she had in a long, long time.

It was, objectively speaking, a little strange, moving forward like this. If they wanted to talk, they had to press their faces close together, and hope that the chemicals that stemmed from their emotions would do the job well enough. They could only speak in vague, personal terms; I'm afraid, I'm hungry, I'm impatient, I'm worried. Fear was a common one, as it motivated their every step. They barely needed to get close for that, as it seeped into the air around them, it was so fierce. They barely got to feel anything else except for brief moments of gratitude and relief. 

But it was strange, because it just wasn't how people talked to one another. And real cats who had practice being cats obviously picked up on visible cues, too, but Luka and Miku were bad at reading those, so the more reliable chemical message was what they fell back on. But Luka had to remind herself that she was almost kissing Miku's cheek whenever they wanted to have something that vaguely resembled a chat. That was her coworker.

She'd never been through such a terrible experience with anybody else, though. Luka was starting to think that if they ever got out of this, they'd be bound at the hip for life. And it really was starting to sound like an 'if', and less of a 'when'. Even as they slowly mapped out the part of the city they were in, based on whose territory they were walking through, it felt like a tiny sliver of the whole town and it didn't translate to anything useful at all. Meiko could be right next door and Luka would never, ever know. But looking for help from a human felt risky; they'd see only cats. Looking for someone friendly felt impossible.

It was as if the least that they could do was stay alive. Nothing else. 

They were sustained by puddles, trash left out behind restaurants and homes. They slept in basements when the window was left ajar, in shrubs, little alcoves, staying out of the rain, the wind, the chill as fall started to settle over the city. Luka had long lost count of how long it had been. Ten days? A little more? Two weeks, soon? 

She counted her blessings that she wasn't alone, that they had found some way to communicate the most essential of messages.

"I miss home," Luka thought as they sat down under a low-hanging balcony. Miku approached her timidly, offering to talk, so Luka closed the distance, letting Miku read her heart on her cheek.

Miku nodded, and Luka smelled it, too.

Homesickness. 

Luka wondered what Miku missed. Friends? A boyfriend? A girlfriend, perhaps? Her parents? Maybe she even had a kid, Luka had no idea. Did she have her own pets who relied on her, in an ironic twist of fate? 

But home. To think of home. To miss home so badly it hurt. Luka couldn't help but tuck into Miku's cheek a little, finding comfort in the shared emotion. 

They weren't home. But they weren't alone, either. Thank everything for that. If Luka had been alone, escaping on her own, then the worst fate might've befallen her. Or worse still, she might not have escaped at all. She would still be in that dreadful metal and glass cage. As scared as she was, at least she was experiencing some variety every day; she'd be sure to go stir-crazy in there.

Her heart went out to the others who were stuck. She wished she could save them, somehow. But first they had to save themselves.

A cold, bitter wind blew. Luka shivered and wrapped her tail around her feet, and together they huddled against the wall.

Maybe they had to explore new ground. Maybe they had to go to a new part of the city. Maybe there, they'd get more luck, hear a familiar voice, even if it was all twisted by their new ears. Maybe they just had to expose themselves to situations where they could get lucky. 

Pressed cheek to cheek, Miku must have picked up on something akin to wanderlust. "I want to leave", perhaps. And, in her answer, Luka knew that Miku would follow. 

They'd explore then, with intent. The next day, because the night promised to be cold. They had to survive the night, first. One thing at a time.

They explored the edges of what they knew. Pushed into new territories, leaving behind the restaurants that they'd grown to rely on, leaving behind the marked areas they knew were controlled by friendlies, and forged ahead. Luka didn't know if it was North or South, East or West, but it was more unknown, more fear. They followed Miku's nose for food, but Miku made sure to wait patiently as Luka checked every corner for a trace left behind by a cat or two. They steered clear of the females, and gave the more-friendly males appropriate cold shoulders, hissing when some got too close. They weren't interested in making friends. They had to get home. Somehow. Any way they could. 

Luka kept her ears peeled, not daring to mingle with the people, to lay herself bare to their heavy footsteps. But she wanted to hear Meiko's voice, Yukina's voice, Cul's voice, anybody she knew. Even Gakupo, she wanted to see again, if just to claw his face off. But instead, they stuck to the shadows, little nomads in the dark, avoiding the dogs and the rats, sifting through garbage. 

Luka knew that, by then, for all her effort, she looked like shit. There was no nice way of putting it. She felt the tangles in her fur and just couldn't keep it under control. They didn't have the hours needed every day to untangle it all with only her tongue. They had to stay on the move, to feed themselves, to find shelter. Warily, carefully, sniffing every corner, hoping to find friends, no foes. 

But Luka felt like a walking heap of trash. Miku was doing only moderately better, also skimping on the grooming, her grey fur stained in dark splotches. Her shorter fur helped, though; her coat wasn't getting snagged on every stray branch, loose nail, or any other protrusion. She didn't have to shake herself free, feeling the pull at her skin. 

But they moved ever onward. They didn't have time for this nonsense. Staying alive went first. 

They walked towards the uncharted roads and gardens, exploring the unseen alleyways, and Luka started getting hints of more and more cats. Luka sniffed at one corner in confusion, unable to get a clear profile. A few males, but also females, of various ages...? Miku kept a lookout, but when her ear twitched, Luka's did, too. 

Meows.

A colony. 

Luka knew that feral cats formed colonies to a certain degree, but she worried about finding one. Was this a good thing? A bad thing? Miku kept low, and so did Luka, her heart racing in her chest.

She was so tired of being afraid. 

Miku crept forward however, and Luka approached, concerned, initiating a talk. 

"I'm curious," Miku said. "Scared, but curious."

It was a good point; how did so many cats sustain themselves? Maybe they had food.

"I'll trust you," Luka tried to say. "I'll follow."

With that exchange done, Miku pulled away and led the charge into the unknown territory. They avoided the meows they could hear, the clatter of steps, the noise of a small crowd. Luka wasn't sure where Miku was bringing them towards, but she chose to trust, having nothing else in the world at that moment. 

Food. 

It looked intentional. Small boxes, out of the rain, with little bowls of food. Luka smelled it and admittedly, it smelled delicious. Miku was already digging into one.

Luka didn't take long to follow. She was going to have her fill while she had the chance. She ate until she was full to bursting, emptying two bowls on her own. Miku did the same, licking her lips and looking around. With no other cats in sight, they ducked away while they could, not leaving a trace behind. Luka followed her nose to a garden, and there was a covered bench. Luka found that there was room under the tarp, under the bench, for them to hide under.

There, in the dark, their night vision did the heavy lifting. Luka licked her lips, her paw, to clean her face, all that she bothered doing nowadays. Miku did the same. 

In the confined area, Luka understood, "I'm happy."

It was relative. A cautious contentment. It wasn't odd; this was a good place to hang around if there was safe, digestible food accessible to them. There would be the hazard of the colony, but they'd tolerate it for this boon. Once their faces were clean, they settled in the relatively warm area and digested. 

Maybe they wouldn't get home soon. But they'd be relatively okay in the meantime, Luka hoped. This was the best thing to happen to them for ages, and Luka wanted to count her blessings.

She pried open an eye and saw Miku snoozing in the dark. She shivered a bit in the cold, but it didn't wake her; they were both long accustomed to the harsh temperatures. 

At least she had Miku. A colleague, perhaps. But a friend, too. More, even. They had a strange bond forged by adversity. Luka wasn't sure she'd ever be able to name it. But she wouldn't throw it away for the world.

It was night, and having been surprised by a dog in the backyard they'd found shelter in, they were forced to flee, hissing and sputtering and screaming the whole way. Once they'd made sure that they were both okay, they kept walking, and were, by pure accident, on a large street in the city. 

It was really late. There was next to nobody out. Just a few cars, from time to time, but nobody walked around at this hour. To Luka's surprise, Miku walked down the sidewalk, and Luka took a second to understand. She followed.

Maybe it would be nice to walk the streets the people walked again. 

To be human again. To dream of it. Luka heaved a sigh as they walked, not seeking food, not even seeking safety, merely wanting to exist for a moment. It was serene, bitter. It felt peaceful and so delicate. Anything could happen at the drop of a hat and shatter their little moment. And there wouldn't have been anything that they could do about it. They'd run, and that would be it. 

So they enjoyed it while they could. Looking at the dark city from down below, counting the lights that were still on. There was a storefront, up ahead, that still glowed. Someone had forgotten to turn off the lights.

So mundane. Nobody knew that they were there. Two cats, two people really, hoping for a way home, to a friendly place. Lost, so irreparably lost. Homesick to the point of crying, unable to cry at all. 

They approached the display that was still on, and Luka saw it was a store selling televisions. Miku hesitated in front of it, stopped, then sat down to watch. 

Luka understood clearly, and sat down at her side. She felt, behind them, how their tails brushed together, and she flinched at the foreign feeling. Miku flinched too, probably feeling the light embarrassment one felt when hands brushed with a friend while walking. But she focused on the TVs, which happened to sit, for some part, in the sweet spot of their vision.

That was why Miku had stopped, perhaps. 

Luka realized she hadn't spent time to read text in days. Weeks, even. And there, she read the news banner. 

There was international turmoil about some trade agreements. Two important world leaders were meeting. An accident had happened in another part of the country, killing several. The news was never joyful or particularly thrilling. They'd missed out on weeks' worth of context. But then the banner changed, and Luka felt her ears perk up in front of the silent screens, seeing Miku's do the same.

People were missing. Dozens. Luka heaved a sigh, reading the names, wondering if any of them were the cats locked in the cages, back at Panthera Tech. 

Suddenly, there was her name. And Miku's. There it was, white on dark grey: Luka Megurine and Miku Hatsune.

They knew. People were looking for them. 

It felt sweet.

It felt so bitter. 

They were right there, in the city, with no way of communicating with anyone. They were lonely and afraid and nobody knew to look for cats, not people. 

They'd never find them. 

She felt Miku lean against her, and Luka smelled the bittersweetness of it all emanate from her. So she shared the feelings. 

They were missed. 

They were missing.

They would never be found, it felt like. 

Luka let Miku lean against her. She welcomed it, even wanting a hug again. She regretted that her coat was in such poor condition, but they couldn't be choosy, and Miku apparently didn't mind. So it was fine. Luka leaned against her a little, too, finding comfort in the company she had.

It could've been worse. It could've been so much worse. 

When the news segment ended, changing topic, this time Miku stood and walked away. Luka followed. 

They needed to find shelter for the night.

The colony site was a good one. They had seemingly limitless food, and all they had to do was stay away from the cats and the people. It took them a few days to find reliable spots to hide, the most efficient paths towards the food, but once they had that, they almost...settled in. 

Which they couldn't actually do, not in any real capacity. They weren't cats, they couldn't move in, they had to find a way back to normal, but this was as good as it had ever been for them and staying alive for so long had been so hard already. Turning their noses up to this would be so stupid. So they settled, taking the time of safety to try and think up a new plan. 

Luka couldn't think of any plan that didn't involve trusting a complete stranger, and she didn't want that at all. What if she was separated from Miku? What if they brought her elsewhere, far away? She couldn't risk it, not for a second. So she thought, instead, wondering about leaving a message in someone's yard somehow, looking out for abandoned writing material, but wondering how she'd even write without opposable thumbs. 

But they made the most of all the free food, just making sure to avoid the cats. There were many; if Luka's unpracticed nose could be trusted, they were probably dealing with twenty of them, at least. Luka didn't exactly look forward to stumbling upon them, or worse, them stumbling upon Luka and Miku. 

It did, eventually, have to happen. A few days after getting comfortable, getting used to everyone's routines, they were eating, trusting that the colony was elsewhere, as usual.

But it wasn't. Luka felt her fur stand on end as the first cat landed on the alleyway, then the next, then the next. Miku's ears pressed flat against her skull, and she kept herself low, unthreatening. Luka placed herself squarely between Miku and the group, hoping that she looked much, much bigger than she was. 

The cats studied them for a bit, tails wagging, and Luka just felt that wasn't a good sign. They drew closer, closer, circling them in, and Luka tried so hard to be brave, trying hard not to shake.

She was so sick of being afraid...!

Miku suddenly flinched behind her, and Luka smelled a burning, acrid terror.

Miku wasn't just afraid. She feared for her life.

What was...?!

With a yowl, Miku broke free, escaping through the one opening in the group, heading right for the street, and Luka somehow understood that the scream had meant to be her name. Without hesitating, she followed, and heard the group follow them for a bit. But when Miku ran right into the sidewalk, among the people, and Luka followed, the other cats lingered behind, hesitating. 

Luka understood. People yelped and shouted in surprise as both Luka and Miku zigzagged between the forest of legs and feet, hoping not to get crushed by a wayward step. Miku ducked into the next alley, and Luka hoped for a little chat, to see what exactly had happened there. The cats hadn't seemed overly threatening, merely curious and large in number, but why had—

No such luck. Miku just kept running. 

Luka endeavored to follow. Eventually, the lesson they'd learned on the first day imposed themselves; they could run, but not for long. Miku ducked into one of their now-familiar hiding spots, catching her breath, panting heavily, and Luka dragged herself behind her, feeling warm, so tired. 

Miku reeked of terror. Gut-sinking, ice-cold terror. 

"Miku?" she wanted to ask, but no words left her lips, only a meow. 

Miku lunged herself forward, pressing her cheek against Luka's, as if Luka didn't already know that she was scared of her skin. But Luka forced herself to close her eyes, to catch the more subtle notes, hoping to understand. 

Terror. Horror, even. Something about the situation had disgusted her, horrified her. Miku was shaking against her, a note of despair entering Luka's nose. 

Miku was begging. Begging to leave.

To leave. This paradise, this comfort. Luka didn't understand why, and when Miku picked up on that, she pressed harder against Luka.

"Please. We need to leave. I'm begging you to leave."

Luka breathed. It felt stupid. But she'd ignored her once before. "We'll leave."

Miku relaxed a little, stepping away from her, still shaking and catching her breath. Luka looked at her, wondering what she'd picked up on, what she might've seen or heard that had terrified her so. But once they caught their breaths, they left. They forged on, once again leaving the familiar behind, going towards the uncharted territories, the places that they had yet to see. 

They walked for hours. Long enough to get hungry again. Long enough for it to get dark, for it to get cold. They found a large building that had a few carved outcroppings Luka couldn't easily make out and ducked into the hollow shape of one of them, sheltering from the wind. Miku trembled, still, her ears tilted back, her whiskers further back than they ought to be. 

She'd long learned those were bad signs. Luka stepped towards her, wondering. Miku, however, stepped back, back into the cold; there wasn't much room here.

She was trying to hide something.

Luka sighed. There was something vulnerable about having their most sincere emotions just written all over them for the other to read. There was no denying that. She couldn't hold this against her, for Miku wanting to keep something to herself. But this felt altogether too important. Luka was missing something crucial. 

"Miku..." she meowed softly, and from the slight twitch in Miku's shape, she also recognized her name in a meow. 

Miku hung her head low, then joined her in the small alcove. As she approached, she approached Luka directly, another wordless invitation for a chat. 

Luka gladly accepted it, wondering what she could possibly have to share. 

The first notes were obvious. The fear. The terror. The horror. Under that, relief, now that they were safe and far from there. There was despair there, a tinge of hopelessness. And a strange undercurrent that carried it all, that Luka hadn't initially picked up on. It married well with Miku's signature scent that identified her, almost too well; Luka could hardly pick up on it. It was something deeper, personal, closer to the heart than the knee-jerk reactions that she'd had to their earlier situation. 

Luka wanted to frown, unable to puzzle it out. She felt her ears twitch to flatten a little, her own whiskers drawing back in displeasure.  Miku shuffled a little, getting closer still, so that Luka felt her chest when they both breathed in. Her paws were right by Luka's, just barely touching. 

Miku let out a sad meow, and started to withdraw. Luka shook her head, hoping beyond hope to make sense of this. Miku froze, then begrudgingly approached again, realizing that Luka hadn't understood.

She tried to put the pieces together. Miku was expecting a bad reaction. She'd been afraid out of her wits. Worried for her, clearly. Miku worried for Luka deeply, and it wasn't hard to understand why. They were both all they had. But as Luka took forever to puzzle it out, Miku laid herself more and more bare, showing a more present-moment apprehension and fear at this continued vulnerability. And there it was, that sweet undercurrent. It was, since their transformation, the sweetest thing Luka had smelled. But it wasn't saccharine, not entirely. It was simply...wholesome. Miku felt something very deeply, very sincerely. 

Luka closed her eyes and focused on what it made her feel, rather than trying to puzzle it out rationally. It was embarrassing, but it was all they had to communicate, so Luka inhaled deep and held it, feeling more than thinking.

Oh. 

It all clicked together. Miku had been so deeply scared, Miku had been so desperate, Miku had been so shy and apprehensive because— Because she cared for her. More than their situation had called for. More than she should. 

Miku liked her. Potentially even loved. 

Maybe for a long time. Longer than they'd been cats. 

Miku flinched, having felt Luka go totally still. Before she could retreat, however, Luka leaned forward, wordlessly letting her know that she was welcome to stay with her.

Even so, her mind raced. 

Miku liked her. 

How could she respond. 

What were her options.

How did she feel about this.

Her knee-jerk reaction, inviting Miku to stay, was telling. But thinking about it even a little risked letting Miku know how she felt, maybe even prematurely. She didn't want to scare her off, she didn't want to make her sad, she—

Miku melted against her suddenly, and Luka feared, for a second, that she might've given the wrong impression. But no. Her knee-jerk reaction, paired with her concerns, probably spelled out how she felt before she could rationalize her way towards it herself.

Luka breathed, and let the emotions roll over her as they came. She prided herself on being rational, but this wasn't a rational scenario. They were cats for crying out loud. And Miku liked her. And in their time spent together, finding Miku reliable, open to communicate, agreeable, despite all the obstacles and weirdness, maybe she'd grown to like Miku, too. 

What were her options? 

Right then, few. They couldn't, not really, talk about a relationship. They were still cats. They couldn't kiss or properly hug. But Miku did need comforting. 

So Luka let her melt against her, lifting a paw to make room for her, inviting her closer. Miku took it, and Luka felt, a second later, how she started to purr. 

This was, for the moment, all they could have. 

They sheltered from the cold and dark, many questions left unanswered, but Luka would make the best with what she had. 

She wouldn't let Miku go for anything.

It was cold. 

Miku was asleep, curled up in the corner of the alcove, tail wrapped tight around her paws. 

Luka's mind was racing. 

She wasn't entirely sure what was going on between them.

It was objectively good, for Luka, that Miku cared about her. And Luka knew, objectively, at face value, that she cared about Miku.

Exactly how she cared was another detail.

It still nagged at her, the feeling of being somewhat responsible for Miku's fate, at that point. Miku was a cat curled up on the stone ground because she'd followed them in. Without Luka, she would've been free. Totally fine and unaware, and this would've been Luka's problem to solve on her own. This had motivated some of Luka's earlier protective streaks. She refused to let anything else happen to Miku under her watch.

Granted, that wasn't the only thing that was happening, emotionally. She remembered how devastated she'd felt, when Miku had left her, paired with the relief that Miku had always planned to come back. That she had come back, in fact, that she'd saved her. The gratitude Luka felt, whenever Miku came back with another half-eaten fish, or shoved a can in her direction. If Miku had been flirting this whole time, then it had worked. Luka liked Miku. She'd long felt that they'd forged a bond unlike any other. But romantically?

Luka wasn't going to lie: Miku was attractive, as far as people went. She even made for a pretty cat, but Luka wasn't as much of an expert in that regard. Otherwise, she knew Miku to be hardworking and caring. But for a relationship? Is that was what Miku hoped for, coming out of this? Did Luka want that? 

She wasn't nearly so sure, and felt so afraid of setting Miku up for disappointment down the road. And granted, being so afraid of hurting her did prove to Luka that she did have some heart for her colleague. But Luka knew that she was a disappointment to deal with. Every one of her exes had something bad to say about her. Workaholic, too obsessed with the goal, burning the midnight oil time and time again. The last time Luka had tried to turn a casual fling into something more, the fifth "Sorry, I'll be late," had done the trick and snuffed all hope. Miku didn't really know her, just like Luka didn't really know Miku. Miku was going to be disappointed, whether Luka wanted or not. And despite all this time spent together surviving, it wasn't with their own skillsets, their own bodies, barely even their own minds. Was she really getting to know Miku, or was she just seeing how she was dealing with this constant, heavy adversity? Was this a genuine way of falling in love with someone? Spending hours together, fighting for their lives together, without a word exchanged, a fact, hobby, or passion shared? 

Luka didn't know. She didn't even know Miku's favorite color.

All she knew was that she'd never give Miku up for anything. But whether that was because Miku was important to her emotionally, or from a survival standpoint, felt blurry. 

She didn't know. 

Luka didn't sleep that night.

Regardless of Luka's conclusions, or lack thereof, they walked closer together, during the day. As they explored the new territories, Luka identifying the cats around them, how they divided the neighborhood, what the resulting scent map looked like, and Miku finding the morsels to eat, they walked side-by-side, almost to touch. 

Luka couldn't deny that Miku brought her comfort. Even as the number of edible morsels around them dwindled. This wasn't the center of town anymore, that much was obvious. There were fewer restaurants, fewer businesses, and the whole area looked to be dotted with tall buildings they couldn't get into. Miku struggled to find them something to eat for long stretches of time. Sometimes she got lucky, and found a business with a container that was left open. At some point, they stumbled into what was obviously a park, and Miku, to Luka's shock and partial amusement, snagged a tuna sandwich from someone while they'd been on a phone call. But they couldn't stay there for long, not with all the dogs running around, so they quickly avoided that area, too. 

The days kept passing, and Luka settled on a reserved acceptance for Miku's feelings. Reciprocating them entirely might have to wait until they were people again. When they could talk again, in sentences. But she didn't dislike Miku, that much was clear. She appreciated who she was, and couldn't deny that either way, they were walking out of this together. 

Back to normal. 

They had less and less time to miss things. It was too bitter to hold on to, almost. It was easier to just suck it up and keep moving, instead of lamenting and wanting to cry all the time. Luka took what she had, which was mostly her unflappable, reliable teammate, and wouldn't let her go for anything. 

As they struggled in this new area of town, Luka realized that she hadn't just lost count of the days; she no longer knew, even vaguely, how long it had been. A month seemed more likely than two months, but had it been that long already? She didn't know at all. She only knew the cold, the harsh wind, the nights spent awake, shivering. 

They wandered for better areas, finding a residential zone with a few nice places to find food, but there was a bodega cat that was particularly hostile towards them, then the garden with the unleashed dog that fought against the fence to get at them. They wandered some more.

Nights were getting painful. 

As they curled up for some rest, finding refuge in only a cardboard box in a corner, each claiming one half of the box, shivering until late, Luka looked over at her colleague, her friend, who shook so bad from the cold it looked painful.

Right. Miku had much shorter fur. As much as Luka suffered, Miku would do the same, twofold. 

Luka hesitated, looking at her, formulating a thought, a particular emotion, wondering if it might be worth the risk down the road. But at that moment, it actually looked like Miku might die. So Luka chirped, and Miku opened her eyes, blinking tiredly. 

She didn't move. 

Luka had the colder corner in the box, she knew that; she'd offered the prime spot to Miku when they'd first gotten there. But it wasn't enough. And Miku wasn't picking up on her offer; the air was crisp, maybe she was struggling to understand her. Maybe she was getting a cold, or the cat equivalent. 

So Luka stood, padded over, and nudged at Miku with her paw. Miku made a little confused sound, ears slightly back in apprehension, but obeying as Luka wedged her further into the corner. Then, without asking, Luka tucked her feet under herself, and plopped herself down, between Miku and the cold air.

Miku instantly relaxed, much to Luka's relief. She even adjusted herself, no longer forming a nice, tidy, round shape with her body and legs, instead stretching out a little, and Luka understood, letting Miku put her cold feet under her. 

With that, Miku curled up against her and fell asleep.

It was easy to do. Luka followed suit, feeling Miku warm up, sharing in the warmth, finding better sleep than she had in a long time.

"Sleeping together" usually meant something a little more fun and heated, but this was a lifesaver for them as the days and nights flew by. Every night, they'd find the warmest, most insulated corner they could, push Miku far out of the wind's reach, and Luka would place herself in the elements' way, keeping them both warm and cozy for the night. Miku appreciated it tremendously, resting her head on Luka's shoulder, keeping even her tail under the warm blanket that was Luka's matted fur. 

Luka regretted not keeping herself in better shape. But if it worked, then it worked. Miku didn't seem to mind. 

One evening, after having scored next to nothing for food, they retired to bed early, spent and weak. They'd try again the next day, elsewhere. But right then, in the cold, they had to keep the energy they had. Searching late into the night wouldn't do them any good, it felt like. So they found a warm corner somewhere, rolled up, and tried to sleep.

"Aw, kitties!" 

Luka woke instantly at the sudden voice. There was a small child there, who was honestly so tall and terrifying, standing maybe a pace away. The child's mother held their hand, going to leave. 

Luka felt her ears fold back, her fur stand on end, as the kid anchored themselves, lingering.

"Look, mom! Kittens!"

"I know, Una."

Luka placed a protective paw over Miku's sleeping form. 

"Are they lost, mom?"

"No, look at it. That's nothing but a feral cat," the mother said. 

The girl made a soft sound of disappointment. "Can we keep them?"

"No." That was categorical and firm. Good. Luka wasn't interested in becoming someone's house pet. "Come on, Una, it's cold out. I want to go home."

"They'll be cold, too! Please!"

"Una, no. We don't want a cat."

"There's two of them, mom."

"Worse," she said with a groan. "Come on, now."

With that, they left. Luka watched them go, and Miku let out a curious chirp. Faintly, over the cold, Luka smelled intrigue. Luka let her know of her wariness, her disapproval. Miku countered with optimism; maybe a home would mean warmth, safety, alongside captivity. 

She wasn't entirely wrong. Luka rested her head next to Miku's, cheek pressed to cheek. Before she could fall back asleep, though, there were urgent footsteps in their direction. Una was back.

"Hi!" she said to them. "Kittens!"

Luka looked up at her, wary, and this time, Miku lifted her head, too. 

"I made a bet with my mom! She said that if I can convince you two to follow me, then you can stay with us? We have a balcony and a ladder so you can come and go and stuff. But I wasn't allowed to use food, so I'm asking nicely. Uhm." She turned and pointed. "That one's my building. Our balcony is in the back. So just climb up the ladder there and I'll have some tuna! I made sure it's the tuna in water because I heard that too much oil is bad for you."

Miku didn't immediately stand, but Luka smelled the hope, the optimism of it all, double. Luka felt only pure apprehension. She didn't want to get locked up. That would dash any and all hope for recovery. They'd be cats for the rest of their lives—

For the rest of their lives...?

The dread of it stole her breath. But Una prattled some more directions before leaving, humming a little song, and Miku looked at Luka; Luka felt the movement with her whiskers more than she saw anything. Miku let out a little chirp. 

Luka wanted to frown, to glower, to stay put in the ice cold, and even found herself moving her paw to hold Miku in place. 

"I don't trust it."

"Please, we need this."

It wasn't entirely wrong. Their luck had been rotten. It was no wonder few cats roamed these parts; surviving was hard. And it wouldn't be long until the puddles would freeze over and the night would actually kill them. 

Luka didn't like this. But she stood. Miku got to her feet quickly, and hurried to follow Una's directions. Luka followed begrudgingly, ears and whiskers back, tail flicking unhappily. But soon, they found the building, and the promised ladder at the back, that a neighbor used for their own cats, surely. It was a rickety old thing that a cat who was more footsure would definitely use, but Luka was far from footsure in this body that wasn't her own. She could walk, but balance? She hadn't ever given it a try.

Miku, to her dismay, went right up. Luka hesitated a little, but followed, and they soon landed on a small, cozy balcony. Half of it was recessed into the building, keeping the wind out. It was decorated with lawn furniture, a few potted plants. It smelled nice and it was more out of the elements than most shelters they'd found recently. 

Luka stuck to the shadows, while Miku hopefully looked in. The light, if Luka had to guess, would be warm and bright. But she saw only shades of grey and how the light from the interior brightened up the blue in her eyes. Miku, by chance, stood in the sweet spot of her vision, and Luka saw her forward ears, her posture, tail calm, low to the ground, the fur parting at the tip in two tufts. 

Cautiously optimistic. 

Luka heard a door close, within the apartment.

"Okay! I talked to them, mom! They should be here soon!" That was Una. 

"Uh-huh," the mom could be heard saying. She sounded disinterested. 

"I'm going to go look out," Una said. 

There was a laugh, from a father figure, most likely. It was deeper. Luka could barely even hear the man, somehow, his voice was so deep. "Don't forget the tuna!"

The mother tutted, and Luka felt, for a moment, bad for Una, who had obviously been victim to her parents' inside joke, their reasonable confidence that no cats would go and follow directions up to a balcony. And then she felt bad for them, because Una had stumbled upon the only two cats in the area who did understand them and they were suddenly getting two cats that they didn't want. It had, perhaps, been meant as a firm lesson. But who was being taught what, Luka wasn't sure.

She still didn't want to go inside. 

Una could be heard approaching the balcony door, though, and Miku immediately stepped forward. The child gasped.

"They're here! Mom, dad, they're already here!"

There was a pause. "They're not," the mother deadpanned. 

"They are! Or— Did you bring your friend?" Una asked, opening the door. 

Luka lowered her head, wary, but stepped into the light, showing herself. Una sounded delighted, standing there in the balcony door, backlit by the warm interior. The warm sigh that exited the building was tempting. 

"I'll go get your tuna! I'll be right back!"

As the child disappeared into the apartment, rounding a corner, two adults stood from a nearby couch and came over to look.

"I'll be darned," the woman said, looking down at them. "It's— It's actually them."

"You're not kidding," the father said.

"No. But... Gosh, that might be someone's pet," she said, and Luka thought she spied a gesture in Miku's direction. 

"The other one might be, too."

"I don't know... That's a molly. That one's a siamese, though. Nobody just throws their siamese outside..."

Una returned, cracking open two cans. As much as Luka hated to admit it, but that made her step forward in anticipation. She was so damn hungry. 

Una stepped outside and placed the cans in front of them. "There you go!"

Luka dug in, hearing how the parents pulled Una back inside for a chat, probably to have a more sincere conversation about having pets, rather than trying to string her along. Luka didn't mind; this had scored them a meal at the very least.

When she heard scraping, she saw Miku push her tin closer to Luka so that they could eat side-by-side. 

Luka, for a moment, was undecided. She was upset. This wasn't something that would lead to their rescue, or at least she strongly doubted it. 

Then again, maybe they did need a different approach. 

And somewhere warm to sleep.

As Miku settled to eat again, Luka nudged her own tin a little closer still, and ate so that she felt Miku's warm presence.

As long as they weren't separated, then it might be okay, Luka figured. As long as she had Miku at her side, then she'd tolerate it. That was all she asked.

Una and her parents eventually struck a deal; the cats were theirs only as long as the cats kept coming back. If they'd leave, then so be it. No litterboxes in the house, no letting them scratch up the furniture, but they could get them a cat bed or two, some little bowls to eat out of, and real cat food. But they would be free to leave whenever, and it would be up to them to return if they wanted to.

That was, to Luka, an acceptable offer. In the meantime, the father fashioned a rudimentary bed for the cats out of an old cardboard box, which he filled with worn blankets. So when the door was opened to them, Luka felt a shared understanding with Miku; they wouldn't scratch up the furniture, they'd be on their best behavior, and they'd make sure to leave from time to time to make sure that the family wouldn't get too attached. And maybe to scratch a nearby tree or something; it was the best feeling ever when the claws were shedding, and she wanted to keep them sharp, just in case. 

Una cheered as the cats were allowed in. Her mother wisely cautioned her not to overwhelm the cats, which Luka also appreciated. They immediately jumped in the box, a warm, soft, cozy space that already had Luka's bones melting, and she hadn't even laid down yet. However, when Miku picked a corner to curl up in, Luka felt some disappointment.

She hadn't expected their cuddling to come to such a sudden stop. 

Maybe her disappointment hung in the air. It wouldn't have surprised her. Miku opened her eyes, her tail flicking, and Luka understood the invitation. 

She padded closer, flattened the blankets a little to her liking, and immediately settled right next to Miku, making sure that her feet stayed nice and warm. 

"Probably a bonded pair," the father muttered. Luka had almost forgotten that they were being observed. 

"That siamese has to have an owner, though," the mother said. "I can't imagine anything else."

"We'll see. We'll put up posters," the father said. 

Luka cared little for what else they said. She closed her eyes and had the best sleep that she'd had in ages. 

Hopefully, this was the start of something good.

The next morning, they were awoken by the bustling activity of a family getting ready for the day. The parents had workplaces to go to, Una had school. But the first thing any of them did was crack open more cans for the cats, so they hungrily ate their fill while everybody else got ready. Then, as they were going to head out, the balcony door was opened. 

Miku hesitated, but Luka led the charge, hesitating only to make sure that Miku would follow. 

She did. The door was closed behind them. The father left, and within moments, the apartment was empty. 

Luka found that she didn't really want to go anywhere. She wanted to have the freedom to go, but didn't want to expose herself to dogs or cats or anything. 

So she plopped down, and that seemed to relieve Miku of some worries. Miku also relaxed, stretching on the balcony, shutting her eyes for a longer snooze. When Luka saw this, she got up and allowed herself to play paw-warmer again; it was still cold, and this got another rolling purr out of Miku. 

They had nowhere to be. They were fed and had found a safe place to sleep. The fear, for the moment, could take a backseat. 

Once they'd slept a little more, Luka turned her attention to herself and got to some very overdue work, grooming herself painstakingly, trying to get herself in top condition. It did bruise a little, that the woman thought she was nothing more than feral vermin, but she honestly couldn't blame her; her state was abysmal. 

Miku did the same. They spent hours just tidying up, finally having the luxury to do so. Then they snoozed some more, in the barely-warm autumn sun, safe on the balcony. And then...

And then Luka was bored. Horribly bored. She could brainstorm a way out of this. Maybe if there was a relevant segment on the news, they could make a fuss about it, draw attention to themselves. But that didn't feel ironclad; she didn't even know if they watched the news. 

They'd see.

But Luka soaked in the boredom somewhat welcomingly. It was good to not have to worry so damn much. To just relax, to be, to sit in the sun and get the knots out of her hair, it was wonderful. 

Miku, however, didn't deal with the boredom so well. Luka watched as she paced by the plants, taking them in, only the blue colors standing out, which were few and far between. Miku sniffed at them, tail flicking a bit, before looking at the furniture, getting bored enough to inspect the tile. Luka, by then, had dozed somewhat, so it was a violent surprise when suddenly Miku pounced on her. 

Luka wanted to protest, letting out a grumpy meow. But Miku was looking at her, jumping to and fro, and Luka understood, somehow, an invitation to go...play. 

All right. She'll bite. 

Luka didn't know much about playing as cats. But neither did Miku, she reminded herself, and so they somehow, wordlessly, settled on a game of tag. And Luka found herself wanting to scream and shout and laugh, playing tag on the small balcony, finding she hadn't had such a blast in a long time. She ran as fast as she could, truly testing the limits of her knowledge of her own self, only to get swatted at by the much quicker Miku. So Luka would turn around, and use wit instead of sheer speed to corner Miku and tag her while she made her escape. 

It was a riot. It was the best time Luka had experienced in ages. And as they tripped and rolled around, kicking playfully at each other, the scent of amusement and fun thick in the cold air, Luka also felt the love that emanated from Miku, the heart-melting care, the pure, distilled joy of it all. 

Sadly, even in fun, they couldn't run for long. So after that, they napped, then ran around some more, playing rudimentary games of hide and seek, just killing time because they finally could. When the day ended and the family came home, someone saw them on the balcony and let them in, feeding them genuine cat food. 

They had their fill, curled up together in the box, and promptly fell asleep.

They were cats. They might never get home again. But that was easily the best day of the whole experience. 

Luka felt happy, curled up with Miku in the box, hoping that the rest of their days as cats looked more like this, and less like...all the rest it had been.

The days trickled on. They had a safe place to sleep, guaranteed meals, and time outside in the cold. With no foraging or seeking shelter, they had plenty of time for boredom, and that brought a whole host of new problems.

Luka wondered about her family. Their families, really. She hoped that they were okay, that they weren't too tortured by their absence. But there was sorely little she could do; there was no way to get a message out. The people who were housing them weren't giving them pens and paper, just cozy beds and delicious meals perfectly portioned to their size. So Luka could only agonize, missing her mom and dad, Meiko and Cul and Yukina. 

She missed her coworkers, hell, even her boss, and hoped that the good work was being done in her absence. She missed the work, too. Something real. Progress in the grand scale of humanity. Not playing on a balcony and watching the days crawl by. 

She wondered about herself. Without the stress of survival, she had the time to agonize about being a cat. These were cat paws, a tail, a body, a face. This wasn't her, not by any definition. Luka tried not to agonize over it, wanting to pull her own spine out of this sorry excuse for a pelt, but what could she do?

What could she do?

Play and nap and watch the snow fall. 

The family was getting used to having them around. The doors were opened for them on a schedule. The meals were prepared for them with more practice, with what Luka gathered to be salmon oil and plaque powder. They got their own beds, but Miku and Luka always shared. Una gave them names, Grey and Red, which Luka didn't care much for. She also tried to pet them from time to time.

Neither of them let her. 

Luka partially expected Miku to welcome the kind touch. She'd been so receptive towards this idea, after all. But she shied away from Una's hand, too, not going as far as Luka's hissing and swatting, but definitely less welcome. And in the air, Luka smelled anxiety, fear, apprehension. 

And longing. 

Miku did miss a kind touch. Warmth and kinship, something real. But the sheer size of a person was scary. Luka understood. 

Luka wondered who Miku missed. Her own parents, her own friends? Luka guessed, by then, that she was probably also single, if she had so clearly let Luka know of her feelings. But that didn't mean that there was less to agonize about. All the normalcy of a human life, gone. No human body, no human habits, no connections. It was just them in a stranger's home and using their cheeks to establish the barest of communication.

It wasn't a life.

It wasn't a bad life, either. Their hosts brought them toys to play with, and Miku loved chasing the bird on the string, while Luka contented herself with calmer puzzles. When their hosts were gone and it was just the two of them on the balcony, they played games and lazed around, and Luka wondered how well she was getting to know Miku, really. One evening, while they snoozed together in the box, Luka pressed her nose to Miku's cheek, and realized that she learned more and more with every inhale. Nothing concrete, really. She didn't know Miku's favorite movies or what she liked eating. She didn't know of her hobbies, what she valued in a relationship. But she learned that Miku was...

Miku was a tortured, lonely sort. Miku was used to heartbreak. She held onto her friendships tight. She was dedicated. She liked alone time. She was meticulous. She loved with all her heart. 

It was all written in her scent profile. Who Miku was as a person. It was slightly overwhelming at first, but Luka found that she learned more about Miku the more she breathed. 

There was also how they acted. Miku was quick to pull Luka out of her agonizing thoughts with a pitch for a game. She eagerly swapped bowls when they tried to feed Luka chicken when she preferred the fish. She liked to cuddle in her sleep, pushing into Luka's shoulder. 

Luka found that maybe, it was possible to fall in love, if just a little, even without a word exchanged. It just took some time. Maybe a few unorthodox methods. All she knew was that Miku mattered to her, more and more, with every passing day. They weren't just teammates. 

A bonded pair. 

Luka found herself nuzzling into Miku as much as Miku did the same to her. She pulled her in with her paws, double-checked that she was nice and warm every night. 

And she saw how she cowered under the people's hands with an acute wariness, ready to bite and snarl in case they pushed her boundaries. Miku's happiness was the most important thing to Luka by then. She wouldn't have anybody make her scared, not for anything.

Yet she felt how Miku longed. 

They were curled up in their shared bed, which was honestly a little too small for the both of them, but they made do anyway. And Una had just tried to pet Miku, and Miku's ears had flattened, she'd recoiled, her tail flicking, but Luka smelled the ache for proximity, companionship. 

Luka wondered... They were both cats. It wouldn't be the same. It was still ridiculous, really. She couldn't dare. Miku wouldn't tolerate it. 

But what else could Luka do? Pat Miku's head with her paw? 

So she waited for Una to back down, for the family to be otherwise occupied, then focused on Miku, who sat there somewhat sadly, probably feeling so lonely. 

Luka felt stupid. It was embarrassing. It was a gamble, whether they'd laugh about it once human again, or whether Miku would judge her for it.

If it would make Miku happy, it would be worth the gamble. 

She leaned in slowly, first just pressing her nose to Miku's temple. Curiosity immediately filled Luka's nose; Miku wondered what she was doing. Luka wondered what Miku picked up from her. She wondered whether her intentions were already spelled out.

Maybe, maybe not. In the end, Miku didn't flinch when Luka slowly licked her forehead. 

It was, unsurprisingly, much more pleasant than her own fur. Miku's was short and much more manageable. It was also, unsurprisingly, objectively in need of a wash. As much as they'd picked up on the whole grooming thing since they'd had the time, they were lacking practice and the head and neck area was still the hardest to clean. So when Miku didn't protest, Luka repeated the gesture, combing through her fur with intent. 

"I'm here for you," she hoped to say. "In any way I can be."

It took seconds before Miku let out her rolling purr again, leaning into the gesture. She let Luka lick her forehead, her temples, her cheeks, and her muzzle. It was still strange, to lick a face. It would've been stranger if their tongues weren't a dry comb but their clumsy human ones, too. But they couldn't kiss. Hugging was difficult. This was the best that they were getting.

"You have me," Luka thought, felt, earnest. "I'm here..."

It took ages before Miku had been given the full once-over of her head and neck, and she looked a lot better, even from up close, in Luka's fuzzy vision. She smelled delightful, delighted, purring. 

Then, unexpectedly, Miku returned the favor. Luka started, feeling the comb of her tongue work into her cheek. 

But then she smelled it. 

"I love you," Miku said without saying, thoroughly brushing and cleaning her face, still purring. "No matter what."

No matter what.

Luka found herself leaning into it, once again wanting to cry. Maybe they'd never have anything normal again.

Might as well make what they could.

Luka felt it coming, and felt powerless to stop it. She purred, too.

It was easier to start being a little sweet, every second they could. Luka sought proximity with Miku whenever she had the vaguest excuse to. In bed at night, cuddling and being warm, Luka made sure to purr and nuzzle, keeping them close. When they were in the house, in the evening or early morning, she stood by her side, licking the side of her face, objectively knowing it was a strange thing to do as people, but having startlingly accepted this expression of affection as one she could give. She didn't have many other options, after all. During mealtimes, she made sure that their tails touched, wanting her close at every second. 

And of course, out on the balcony, they played and laughed and roughhoused a bit, swatting and shoving but all in good fun, staying active, staving off the boredom and the sad thoughts. 

It was the later afternoon, sometime in the early winter. Snow had settled on the balcony. The sun was setting soon but everybody had yet to be home; the curse of the short, wintery days. But they made the most of it, knowing that they had a safe bed and a meal tin each with their names on them. They were playing tag, and Luka tried to imagine the sound of her laughter as they ran, avoiding the flowerpots and using the chair legs and other furniture as obstacles, slipping and sliding in the fresh powder.

Luka was it, chasing after the quick, wily Miku, but with the small allotted to them, there were only so many paths she could take. Miku, daring, tried to jump over Luka, but Luka anticipated the move and intercepted her, making them both land in the snow. They rolled around, gently kicking at each other, faces deep in the other's fur, just having the fun they could, until Luka victoriously rolled on top and stood over Miku, looking down at her. 

There was little to see. From so close up, everything was blurry. But Miku's grey in the white snow was obvious, as were her bright blue eyes, her dark grey ears. Luka heard her tail wag slowly in the snow behind her, and the paw on Luka's chest was more of an affectionate, lingering touch than anything else.

Luka suddenly saw it so vividly. Miku in her bed with her, but they'd be human again, laughing at a movie or at a joke, rolling around as they'd just done but on a mattress, and they wouldn't need to lick each other's faces for affection. She'd be so beautiful in her breathless joy, her hair splayed out under her, maybe wearing a loose shirt, her hand on Luka's shoulder to pull her in. Then they could kiss and hug and more, so much more, comfortable in their own bodies, able to clearly say, 'I love you,' and 'Stay with me,' and anything they could ever dream of.

Luka wanted this so badly it hurt. 

The sadness that suddenly hit her was overwhelming. 

She wanted to be human again. With Miku. She wanted everything life had to offer with her. 

But they couldn't have it. Not as long as...

But what could they do...? What could they do. 

Miku slowly sat up, Luka backing off to allow her to do so, and Luka felt so small and dirty and clumsy on her four paws, so dumb and inexpressive with her stone-still face, her ears and tail. 

It was probably in the air. Miku could probably smell exactly what was going through her mind. She pressed her cheek to Luka's, leaning into it, rubbing her whole head against her. Luka leaned into it, wishing she could hold her. But when she raised a paw to hug, her spine bent awkwardly. Her elbow didn't bend the way she wanted it to. They could finally finesse a hug out of it anyway. But it wouldn't feel right. 

Miku licked her nose, right between the eyes.

"It'll be okay."

Luka could only hope so. She leaned forward, pressing her forehead to Miku's. 

Hope. That was all they had.

Christmas was getting close. Their host family didn't head out as much, school must be out, and they started putting up a tree, and Luka guessed it would be magnificent, if only she could see the greens and reds. The lights twinkled gorgeously. That was it. 

They'd expressed apprehension at putting up a tree with cats in the house, but little did they know, Luka and Miku had every intention of behaving. Sure enough, even with the tree up, they didn't climb it or swat at the decorations. They merely gazed at this tree, this icon of a holiday, and thought of their peers. 

Luka missed her life so badly it hurt. 

So when the family retreated to another room, Luka didn't care, merely sitting in front of the tree, her tail curled around Miku's. Miku leaned against her, purring, offering meager comfort. She was also plagued by homesickness. Luka licked her forehead, her own reassurance, knowing that it wouldn't really hit the mark.

At least they were hurting together. 

The father headed out in a hurry, probably to get last-minute things. Luka didn't know the exact date after all. Maybe they'd set up the tree at the last second. Maybe it was already the twenty-third or something.  Or maybe it was easier and he just had work. She didn't know. She didn't care. She thought instead of all the people who she'd miss for the holiday. One year missed, skipped because she was a cat. 

It was quietly devastating. 

 "Do you really think—" Una asked.

"Shh. Not in front of them," the mother said, urgently. 

Luka felt Miku grow a little tense next to her, turning to look at the remaining family. They were on the couch. Luka envied them, somewhat. All safe and warm and cozy. Meanwhile, they knew of a room full of cats, of people, who were supposed to be home that year. Dozens of heartbroken families missing fathers, mothers, daughters, sons, partners, siblings, friends. The tragedy of it was unspeakable. 

"Come on, let's go," the mother said. "They're here."

"But—"

"Come on. We'll see."

The two hurried into the hall. Luka and Miku rarely ventured beyond the living room, which gave way to the balcony, and the kitchen, where they were fed. There was a dining area, then the hall, which gave to the bedrooms, but neither Miku nor Luka cared much for invading these peoples' privacy. The Christmas tree was in the living room, and they sat in front of it, thinking of their families. 

The front door was opened, and Luka was surprised by the sound of many hushed, excited whispers. A party. Shit. She felt her fur stand on end, Miku's apprehension doubling at her side. They both backed from the tree, and when Miku made a beeline for the balcony window, Luka followed, hoping that their request would spell itself out.

The father returned, along with four other people. Miku meowed worriedly, ears back, pawing at the balcony door, wanting out. Luka felt her fears like they were her own; she didn't want to be treated like a pet, coddled and caressed by strangers who felt entitled to her space. 

"Luka?"

Luka's gut sank, looking back at the newcomers. She swore her heart skipped a beat, unable to recognize the voice, unable to make sense of the blurry shapes. Even Miku stopped, alarmed. 

Someone else asked, "Oh my God, Miku, is that you...?!"

To Luka's alarm, Miku approached head low, ears back. Luka followed partially to have her back, no matter what, to protect her if needs must, partially to get these strangers in the sweet spot of their vision. 

One of the newcomers lunged towards them, but someone else held them back.

"Easy, dear," came an eerily familiar voice, thick with sobs. "We don't know what she's been through...!"

"Miku, stop playing around!" said another voice, desperate. "Do you understand me or not?!"

"I don't think she can— Miku," said another voice. "It's us. I'm Gumi. This is Rin. Do you—"

Miku immediately ran towards the strangers, and Luka flinched, seeing how the closest one kneeled to welcome her in her arms. Miku let out strangled cries, and it was only their familiarity that assured Luka that Miku was ecstatic, not in agony. 

The other two strangers kneeled while Luka tried to make sense of this.

"Remember, she can't see so well," one of them said. "Even sounds are distorted."

"Luka," the other said. "It's us! Your parents...!"

Her—?!

Luka hurried forward, desperately trying to get their faces in her sharp vision, unwilling to blindly trust, so scared, so wary—

That was her mom, kneeling on the floor, hands outstretched. And that was her dad, standing over her, hands on her shoulders.

Luka released her own cry of agonized relief, running back to her mom's arms, clutching her, barely remembering to sheathe her nails, she was so happy. Around her, her parents sobbed their relief, their disbelief. They muttered things like 'What did he do to you?!' and 'We're so happy you're okay!' and 'We missed you!' even as they brushed her matted fur and kissed her cheeks and head and Luka would have wept if she could, merely letting out horrible, overwhelmed sounds of happiness and relief. 

They were okay.

It turned out that Gakupo had dug his own grave at some point, kidnapping a few more employees from Panthera before the police started connecting the dots. Adding the fact that with Miku's absence, President Shion had hired a team to figure out what was causing a bunch of outages in the facility, and they eventually found an unmapped area in the building where all the power was being drawn to. 

The cats were found. As was the machine, and all the evidence that Gakupo had been responsible. Connecting that to the disappearances, the fact that the cats were, in fact, people, was a little more difficult. Initially, Gakupo had been called a nutcase, but then some of the cats started talking and that cemented his fate. He was tasked with turning them all back, but one question had echoed loud: where were Miku and Luka?

He didn't know. They'd gotten out. They could be dead, hunted by the foxes in the fields outside, or they could've made it to town, or they were still in the facility somehow. He had no idea. 

That kickstarted a month-long search, first in the building itself, then in the surrounding fields. When that failed, it was the families who then organized an awareness campaign, spreading news across the city that there were two cats out there who might be the last of the missing people. Gakupo's description of them helped. Una's father had  heard of this at work. He'd called their families, organized the meetup. 

Miku and Luka were changed back the same day. 

It was horrible. Luka didn't recognize her body anymore, didn't know her own weight or strength, couldn't see, could barely hear. All she knew was to mutter Miku's name. It took no time at all before they were placed in a hospital in the same room, their beds side-by-side. With a long, wiry, gangly limb, Luka reached across the divide, seeking her, blind. Miku had done the same, and they hadn't let each other go throughout the first night of recovery. 

Come morning, they were slowly allowed to see again. Throughout the day, they were invited to practice their fine motor skills, their speech. Walking was out of the question for the time being. Just rest, recovery, a few meals. The family came in, apologizing for initially thinking so little of them. Barely able to talk, they waved it away, expressing thanks for having given them safety in a world so hostile. To fill the void they left behind, to bring more warmth and kindness to another life, they would adopt another bonded pair from the shelter. That sounded like a good plan. 

Their peers fretted over them, so relieved, so worried. Luka's parents barely wanted to part from her side, while Miku had friends at her bedside. Luka worried at the lack of family on her side, but would ask later. 

Later.

That night, when everyone had gone home for the night, and they'd spent the whole day babbling and looking at all the pretty colors, their vision finally vibrant and sharp, their hands getting practice by toying with little objects, it was finally quiet, and they had nothing to do.

Luka looked over at Miku. She was laid back in her own bed, her hair splayed out, such a vibrant, beautiful shade of teal. She was a human again, so beautiful, exactly as Luka remembered her being and yet being all the more breathtaking. 

Suddenly timid, Luka reached across the divide again, and Miku looked over at her hand, then up at Luka. 

Miku gave her a wry smile.

"You know how I feel," she said.

Luka let out a breathless laugh. Finally, they were alone to talk, and finally, they could talk with no uncertain terms. She nodded, and whispered, "Don't you know how I feel...?"

"I just...I don't—"

"Miku." What a breath of fresh air to say her name. "You know. I don't think I hid it very well."

"It was just the circ—" Miku struggled. After staying mute for so long, they both sorely lacked practice with speech. "We were cats."

Luka nodded. "Still."

"That wasn't..."

"Then at least let me fall in love with you again," Luka gently insisted. "Please."

Miku's eyes widened, finally a subtle expression Luka could actually pick up on. And she smiled, timid, blushing, reaching across to hold her hand. 

It was three months later. Winter was thawing and the weather was turning fair again. In parallel, Miku and Luka both took their time relearning to walk, to talk, to do their work. 

They took to it all like a fish to water. Not that there weren't occasional struggles. Miku fell down the stairs on her first day back to work. Luka still needed a cane on her bad days. They both stuttered on the difficult words. But getting back to the way things were helped more than staying at home, playing with toys and doing speech exercises. They still did those, but there was something about the familiarity of a calculator or keyboard, something more engaging about a conversation with a colleague or a family member. 

Some things did change. Luka and Miku waited for each other before going home after work. They drove back in Luka's car; she dropped Miku off at her home, and would be back the next morning to pick her up. That was if they didn't first head out on a date, going to see a movie they both liked, or eating in a restaurant, or just doing anything normal celebrating the mundane, going bowling, visiting the park, recognizing the place where Miku had stolen the tuna sandwich. 

They laughed. They cried. And, Luka was happy to see, they fell in love, a little more honestly, with a better foothold, some more transparency. They held each other through nightmares. A recurring one was of the colony; what had terrified Miku so, back then, had been noticing that the cats each had the tip of their ears clipped. Luka didn't understand what that meant, so Miku was forced to explain that the cats were part of the controlled, trapped and neutered colony. If they'd stayed, then it would've been a matter of time before they, too, would've been noticed, captured, and put under the knife. 

She hadn't been able to explain that at the time. Luckily, her terror had sufficed. Luka kissed her gently then, devastated and grateful for her sharp eye. 

It was important to remember that things were better. Things were more mundane, and they were better off for it. Luka liked making Miku tea while she sculpted, trying to get to the level of precision she once had. Miku stayed up while Luka burned the midnight oil, merrily toiling away, happy to welcome her back to bed whenever Luka was done. 

They kissed. For real, this time. Instead of licking with comb-like tongues and having hairy lips and no cheeks, they could kiss and caress, more familiar with ten fingers without knives and what to do with them. Luka was delighted to learn that Miku was a romantic, wanting to take things slow and careful, having had her heart broken in the past, somewhat in disbelief that this particular dream had come true. She was also relieved when Miku didn't mind about Luka's past, understanding that they'd both had their own ways to deal with struggling, relationship-wise. 

Luka introduced Miku to her family. Miku introduced Luka to her friends. She didn't talk to her parents. It was a long story. 

There were rumors at work. None that they bothered to confirm or deny. They didn't hide that they cared for one another. But they didn't make it a habit to sneak into a janitor's closet to make out or anything.

So maybe they did that once. They had a lot of pent-up affection built up. Just once, though. 

Otherwise, they kept their affections for at home. Luka would park in front of Miku's building, Miku might joke about barely needing a car anymore at that point. They'd go upstairs, Luka would make Miku tea. Miku might sculpt or put on a movie, Luka might cook or get caught up with her own work. They'd eat something, then end up on the couch. They'd talk, joke, reminisce. One of them would kiss the other first. That night, Miku had initiated, to Luka's delight, so Luka rewarded her with some extra attention, kissing under her ear and down her neck, easing Miku into her lap. When they started getting a little carried away and Miku showed no signs of wanting to stop, Miku's shirt already on the floor and Luka's button-up pried open, Luka stood and pulled Miku into the bedroom after her. Miku laughed, covered in a heavy blush, holding her tight, and Luka did the same, peppering in kisses, unwilling to be far from her again, ever. 

When Miku fell back onto the bed and Luka followed, hovering over her, she was brought back to all those months ago, on that snowy balcony, and found that her imagination paled in comparison to the real thing. Sure, her hair splayed out and she did breathe heavily, but she'd never painted in such happiness, such safety and relaxation. Luka was momentarily dumbstruck by the beauty of what was in front of her, boundlessly thankful that life had taken this turn, that they'd survived the ordeal and made it to this day. 

"Uhm," Miku cleared her throat nervously. "I'm still— Is it okay if we just make out?"

Luka smiled, and pried the hand that had rested on her shoulder to kiss her palm. "Of course."

"I'm sorry, I just—"

"Don't be sorry," Luka whispered, leaning in to kiss her. Part of her suspected that Miku hadn't made the connection with the earlier scene. Maybe she hadn't dared to dream of this day. Still, Luka remembered it clearly, and made sure to tell her between kisses, "I love you."

Miku sighed in relief. 

"You have me," Luka added, relieved to finally be able to put it into words. "No matter what."