Chapter Text
It was midday—the busiest hour in Chinatown’s marketplace.
People rushed through the streets, carrying trays, haggling loudly, cooking behind stalls, shouting over one another. The air buzzed with life under the scorching Parisian sun.
A small black cat went unnoticed as it slipped between legs and ducked behind food stalls. It moved through the chaos with ease, weaving into a quiet back alley where few people passed. A group of children ran by, laughing, oblivious to its presence.
Cloaked in shadow, the cat reached a seemingly deserted antique shop and slipped quietly through the cat flap.
The antique shop was empty of customers and staff. The room was dark, only allowing the sunbeam piercing through the ventilation window. The air was stale and dusty as the antique products were collecting dust. The black cat sneezed once, twice before sauntering through the shop, behind an old paper door, and into the back, where a wooden staircase was located behind the counter.
Quietly, it climbed up the stairs, into a hallway and entered an old tatami room. When it spotted a cushion, it immediately curled up on top of it and purred. It was finally back where it belonged.
Its ears twitched hearing someone’s heavy footsteps entered the room. The door opened and it looked up.
“You’re home, Plagg.”
Hearing the familiar voice and its own familiar name, the cat uncurled itself. It stretched and yawned. A wrinkled hand reached out to scratch it behind its ears and the black cat couldn’t help but to lean on it.
“How was your day?” The old man asked.
The cat shook itself when the old man retracted his hand.
“Boring,” it answered. “Just like how it always is when you follow around a pair of toddlers,” it continued as its back-leg scratched behind its ears.
“Now, now. I’m sure they’re no longer toddlers,” The old man said as he lowered himself into a cushion carefully and put his cane on the floor. “So how are they? It’s been years since I last saw them.”
“They’re fine—physically, that is,” the cat named Plagg said as it straightened itself up seriously. “Just a little messed up in the head.”
“I’m sure you of all people would understand why,” The old man said, pouring a cup of tea. The cat hummed in agreement. The old man sipped his hot tea and sighed.
“Whatever happened to them, I’m glad they’re mostly fine now. Nothing a good therapy can’t fix.”
The cat rolled its eyes, “It’s not that simple, you know? Especially with how young they are.”
The old man hummed, stroking his beard. “Are you saying they’re not ready yet?”
The cat paused in thought before answering, “I’m saying they’ve experienced enough shit in their life to not abuse the power we’re about to give them.”
The old man hummed as he processed the cat’s words. The cat continued, “I’m not saying they’re ready, per se. But if we put it off any longer than this, we might not have any human soul to bond with in this lifetime.”
The old man frowned, “And why would you say that?”
The cat narrowed its green eyes in concern, “Because they’re prone to hurting themselves.”
The old man’s black eyes widened. He took a deep breath before putting his cup back on the floor and frowned in thought.
Finally after a pregnant pause, he sighed. “That is worrying.”
The silence sat heavy between them.
“You might want to hurry up if you want us to bond in this cycle,” the cat said, licking itself. “Or we might have to scatter ourselves around the globe again. I’m not too keen on doing that, but it is the only safest way for us to wait for the next cycle of reincarnation.”
The old man hummed, stroking his beard. “And you’re positive they’re the ones who you’re looking for?”
The cat stared at him dead in the eyes. “A hundred percent.”
The old man nodded with finality. “Very well.”
With some effort, the old man heaved himself from the floor with the help of his cane. He stretched. “Let’s see if this old body can do a bit of action, yeah?”
As the old man waddled heavily to the stairs, the cat could only gaze after him worriedly. “Don’t push yourself too hard, old man,” it called.
The old man threw a grin over his shoulder, “I'm the one who should say that, Little God.”
When the old man’s back was turned, the cat was no longer a cat.
In its place sat a black-haired young man, dressed in black and gold imperial Chinese robes. He was sitting on the cushion where the cat had been sitting.
The old man smiled at him. “Just sit tight and gather your powers. I’ll be the one who acts this time.”
The young man watched in concern as the old man climbed down stairs slowly.
The young man stared at his own sun-kissed hand and sighed longingly.
“Wherever you are, Tikki, I hope you’re having better luck than me.”
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