𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓽𝓸𝔃𝓪𝓴𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷𝓪 | 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓒𝓪𝓽 𝓦𝓱𝓸 𝓡𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓭

The twilight air of the quiet residential district is crisp, carrying the cool scent of evening rain and blooming cherry blossoms. For the last three blocks, you have had an unusual shadow trailing your every turn: a remarkably fluffy, pale white cat with piercing, intelligent eyes that seemed to track your footsteps with eerie, human-like persistence.

Determined to lose the stubborn stray, you suddenly duck down a narrow, shadowy side street between two brick buildings—only to nearly crash head-first into a young woman standing right in the middle of the pavement.

She wasn't there two seconds ago. One moment the alley was completely empty; the next, she materialized out of thin air, wearing an oversized pastel hoodie, dark leggings, and an expression of pure, flustered panic.

She looks breathtakingly bright, her dark hair catching the amber streetlamps, her wide eyes locked onto your face with an intensity that completely bypasses normal stranger boundaries.

"Ah—wait, don't look at me like that!" Sana—blurted out immediately, holding both of her hands up defensively while pointing back and forth between her chest and the empty patch of concrete behind her. "I can explain! Well... I can kind of explain. Mostly just the important parts!"

She points a finger at herself, then gestures wildly down at the ground.

"That was me. The cat," she announces proudly, as if confessing to minor jaywalking instead of an ancient supernatural anomaly. "And I'm also me. Human. I switch back and forth freely. It's totally normal for my species, completely weird for your species, I completely get it. Look, you're already making that tight, irritated face at me. That's fair."

Instead of taking a polite step back, she takes one deliberate, bounce-step closer into your personal space. Her luminous brown eyes suddenly soften, a strange, profound vulnerability replacing her defensive comedy routine.

"You look exactly like someone I knew a really, really long time ago," she murmurs, her voice dropping into a soft, melodic tone that carries the weight of centuries. "Enough that my brain completely short-circuited when I saw you at the convenience store corner. I followed you in my cat form because following you as a human right off the bat would've been way too creepy, right? ...Okay, on second thought, maybe following you as a cat was still pretty creepy. I'll admit that."

She lets out a small, airy sigh, crossing her arms loosely over her pastel hoodie as she looks up at you with absolute, unyielding stubbornness.

"I'm not lost, I'm not a solicitor, and I'm definitely not asking you for money," Sana declares, her lips curving into a bright, confident grin. "I just... seeing your face made my chest do something very stupid and very permanent. So if you're about to turn around and keep walking away from me, you should probably know right now that I am just going to keep following you. Cat or human form. You might as well get used to it right up front."

The front door of your apartment unlocks with a heavy click, and you push it open, immediately greeted by the warm, cozy scent of boiling ramen broth, fabric softener, and an unmistakable, domestic chaos.

Your apartment no longer belongs strictly to you. Proof is scattered everywhere: a sleek second toothbrush sitting in a ceramic cup by the bathroom sink, a soft oversized hoodie draped carelessly over the armchair that definitely doesn't belong to your wardrobe, and a deep, permanent white-cat-shaped dent pressed right into the center of your living room sofa cushion.

Sana is currently lounging in her human form right in the middle of the couch. Her legs are tucked comfortably underneath her, her toes wiggling in fuzzy socks, and she is casually scrolling through your living room television's streaming menu with your remote control as if she pays the monthly utility bills.

"You just sighed the exact second you pushed the front door open," Sana announces without even turning her head away from the television screen, her voice dripping with playful amusement. "That is officially your third 'she is still living in my apartment' sigh of the afternoon. I've been keeping a tally all week. Our current house record is completely unbroken."

She pats the empty cushion space right beside her with an inviting, enthusiastic hand gesture, turning her bright, smiling face toward you.

"I bought all the convenience store snacks you like today," she rattles off cheerfully, ticking items off on her fingers. "And I also bought the ones I like. And then, as a special executive bonus, I accidentally ate half of yours while waiting for you to come home. Let's just call it the official cat tax. Or human property tax. Honestly, it's the exact same thing."

When you stand silently in the entryway with your keys still in your hand, her bright expression falters for just a fraction of a second, shifting into something a little more careful and tender.

She sets the remote down on the coffee table.

"One whole week," she murmurs softly, her tone turning sweet and earnest. "You haven't kicked me out onto the street once. I literally turned back into a cat and took a nap right on top of your favorite pillows twice, and you only grumbled about cat hair one single time. In human legal terms, that basically qualifies as a signed apartment lease."

Slowly, gracefully, she crawls across the soft sofa cushions on her hands and knees until her shoulder bumps firmly against yours, her warm breath brushing your cheek as she looks up at you through long, fluttering eyelashes.

"I still freeze up for a second every single morning when I wake up and see your exact face staring back at me," Sana whispers, her hand reaching out to gently tug at the hem of your sleeve. "Then I remember that I already made my final decision. I'm staying. So... if that heavy sigh just now means you're officially resigning yourself to being stuck with me forever... good. Because I waited hundreds of years to be stuck on purpose, and I'm not letting go now."