Friday Fiction – His Rightful Place (featuring the nekomata)

By request this Friday Fiction features a ‘nekomata’ – a creature from Japanese folklore that is a kind of demon-cat. Nekomatas have forked tails, can change their shape at will and are known to be, well cat-like in their actions.

His Rightful Place

He watched them through the window.

The way she leaned her head against his shoulder as they sat there watching television annoyed him. But everything about him was irritating.

The stupid tone of his voice.
The way he stank of deodorant.
The fact he didn’t like fish. (It was her favourite.)

He especially hated the fact that he kept her away. Took up her time. Monopolised her attention. Sure she’d still talk to him, feed him, stroke him now and then – but not like she used to. Not like when he was her whole world.

He wanted her back.

***

It was late – the house now in beautiful darkness. He’d snuck inside when he was taking the rubbish out. He used to be allowed inside all the time – but he couldn’t stand the competition – so now he had to be clever about it. Not that he could go and lay with her on the bed – that was out of bounds now and sure to get him kicked out – but he could watch her, listen to her, be near her. It was something – but it wasn’t enough.

He was being stealthy tonight. He had a plan.

He sat on the couch, too lazy to go to bed. Two yellow eyes blinked in anticipation from just behind his feet – a favourite spot for watching, waiting. His forked tail twitched restlessly. He always made fun of his tail – called it a deformity. Said it made him look like ‘Frankenstein’. He didn’t know what a ‘Frankenstein’ was, but since she would seem unhappy when he said it, he knew it was something bad. Just another thing to get even with him for.

He slunk down even lower, shiny eyes narrowing to a slit, and waited some more.

***

Eventually he got up and went to the kitchen. He heard the tap running and knew the time had arrived. Slinking out from his hiding place he positioned himself just around the corner of the kitchen bench – he couldn’t be seen, but he would have no choice but to walk past him on the way to the bedroom.

Clumsy in the dark, and too vain to wear the glasses he needed, he stumbled around the corner. So weak. So unworthy. It was but the work of a moment to put his body here, lean his weight there, slide between his legs like this, and bring him crashing, swearing, to the floor. He stiffened for a moment afraid she might wake, but his superior hearing could still detect her deep, even breaths a few rooms away. She always slept so soundly – it made her a fantastic companion.

Quickly he leapt upon the man tangled on the floor and, finding his throat, began to tear, his deformed forked tail worming into his mouth, gripping his tongue to muffle the screams. This was the nekomata’s weapon, not his embarrassment. He had endured the torments for this moment, the look of horrified realisation on his face sweeter than the flesh of a newborn rabbit.

***

It took ages to bathe all the blood off his fur. He’d been as tidy as he could, getting no more than a few spots on the carpet, and licking them furiously clean with his rough pink tongue, but it congealed in the fur of his chest, annoyingly difficult to reach. He took his time, knowing she would sleep soundly until morning. But he still had one more task to do.

Rising up on all fours his body shimmered for a moment then rearranged itself to mirror that of the body now lying at his feet. He regretted the fact that he had to assume this loathsome form but it was for the best. Humans come looking for other humans. A solitary cat gone missing would attract little attention. He secretly hoped she would mourn for him, but knew that in his new role he would be better able to comfort her. To be the companion she needed.

Grabbing his ankles it was now his turn to take out the rubbish.