10,000 Strokes

  Sometimes, when I let my guard down, it seems so very much like he would be the one that I would surely cry if I could.  Fortunately, I do not often let my guard down, but on those rare occasions, I am grateful for the moments when my memory fades.

  Usually, I try to resist the nature of my physical form, but then the headache begins, and eventually I release to escape the pain.  However, when my guard is down, and I am wrought with emotion, I freely allow the creature to envelope my true self.  With that state being very much like a sleep, I always "wake up" feeling refreshed.

  Upon that special awakening, I slowly regain my memories, or at least most of them, and then I can continue in my ancient objective.  Actually, most of the time, there is very little I can do in my form, especially when he is awake at work or shopping.  To my great fortune, that is typically all that keeps him from me.

  The interesting thing that I have noticed is that it has become that more often than not, the times I am receiving his affections, I'm not even thinking about how they might ultimately benefit me.  One day, while he was at work, and I was in my own mind, I found myself wanting him home simply for who he was.

  That realization was the very first time I had ever began to have truly sincere feelings for one of those whom I had always otherwise thought of as merely candidates.  My emotions were then compounded by the prospect that perhaps it was that very thing that made all the previous candidates failures.

  With any luck, since this is something that I have thought about many times, I am less likely to lose control, because losing that emotional control only encouraged the creature to envelope me.  While the escape was a blessing, it also left me with less time.

  I had quickly learned over the centuries to apply good timing to changes.  A lesser intensity of thought or emotion allows for more time as my true self, therefore I must keep measure of my thoughts, in order to help ensure that I am myself as much as I can, while he is home.

  In the past, it had always helped also in order to simply keep myself alive.  I possess no knowledge of, nor control over, the creature's actions, and the dangers outside have always been varied and plentiful.  It is always a blessing when I am able to stay indoors so that I can more easily arrange my awakenings, in as much as they can be arranged.

  When I need to encourage a quicker change, I often either learn new things, when the opportunity arises, or I do as I am now, and simply ponder my existence, in hopes of obtaining an even greater understanding of what I am.

  I was brought into the United States shortly before the invention of the television: a most wonderful invention.  Through the years, and especially now, it helped me greatly in learning new things.  Earlier on, my learning was limited by the fact that a television was not on very much.  As years passed, people would watch their television more often, but I was still limited by my changes, and by the times there was no one present to turn the television on.

  I have grown to greatly appreciate this digital age where a television can be easily turned on and off by the pressing of a button.  In his house, I can turn on the television myself, even while he is away, and changing the channels is an equally simple task.  It is in this house that I have, as good as, mastered the English language.  Well, that is to say that I can easily understand it, though I am confidant that I could clearly speak it, should I ever regain the ability to speak.

  Less productive, though, is my use of his computer and the Internet.  On occasion, he leaves it on while he is at work, and sometimes I try to use it, but it takes a far greater degree of thought and effort for me, as its use is far more complex than pushing a single button.  I can accomplish very little before the headache begins, and then I have to go through the trouble of returning the computer to the state in which he had left it.

  Although, it was rather amusing, the one time I ran out of time, and he eventually came home to find a page open.  I had awakened moments before he returned, but I had forgotten what I had done.  He discovered the page, and was quite dumbfounded.  After a while, he came to the casual conclusion that I had somehow done it.  "Aren't you the clever one," he had said; on more than a few occasions, actually, though for different reasons.

  It seems that it is indeed he who is the clever one.  Though he did not take himself too seriously in that instance, it had been only one of various occasions where his seemingly lofty conclusions had actually been truths surrounding me.  It is just more fuel to the fire of suspicion that he is the one I had been seeking for so many centuries.

  It seems so much like he is aware that I am something more.  It is almost as if he can sense my humanity hidden within this form.  Many different people have treated me many different ways, but it is with him that I feel the most human.  There was even one time, for the all too briefest of moments, that I actually forgot that I was not human.

  It was at night, and he had just lain down to sleep.  I moved carefully across his mattress and came to rest beside him.  It had been day when I had kept my thoughts subtle, so that I might maintain myself longer with him.

  We had been watching television while he caressed me gently for hours, never seeming to tire, except for having to stop for a few seconds to flex or shake his hand.  Even though it had become something of a burden on him, he continued simply because he knew it enjoyed it.

  That had moved me so much that I wanted to remain in his presence, even if I would not be feeling his fingers on me.  I laid my head near his and watched him in the dark.  He was sleeping on his stomach, as he often does, and when his steady, shallow breathing was broken by a single deeper breath, is eyes opened slightly, for only an instant, he voiced some short, quiet, half-conscious noise, then moved his hand a few inches towards me until the side of his smallest finger was pressing against me.

  That finger moved slightly up then down one time, and though I cannot be entirely certain whether it was a mindless twitch or something intentional, I did feel in my heart that some part of him knew exactly what he was doing.  In that moment, I had forgotten everything that I was, but only in the best way.  In that moment, I was a woman lying in bed next to a man whom I cared about more deeply than I had anyone else.

  I had quickly fallen asleep, and for the first time in so very many years, I had a dream that I could actually remember upon my own special awakening.  I was back in Japan, in an open, lush meadow, with only a few small flowers, just outside my home village of Kuchikawa.  The river ran out of a thick forest and passed by some steps away.  The forest was dark, and I felt a sense of foreboding, but I was not worried.  For some odd reason, there was a mountain towering behind the forest, whereas, in real life, there was no mountain in the area.

  I looked to my side, and there I saw my father walking away from me, towards the forest.  The grass seemed to grow thicker in front of him, as if to prevent him from moving forward, yet he paid it no mind, and just stomped on through.

  As my father grew closer to the edge of the woods, I saw another man coming out of them.  That man, whose identity I still do not recall, stopped and then looked back into the forest.  He waved his hand, as if to beckon someone out, but he was confused, because though he wanted to speak, he did not know what to say.

  I wanted to help him, but I could not speak or walk.  I raised my hands over my head and waved them wildly, and though he did look over his shoulder to me for a second, he did not pay me any mind.  I tried to walk, but only tripped and fell to my hands and knees.  With great effort, I was able to crawl, but it was very difficult and tiring.

  I pounded the ground with my hand, in one last attempt to get the man's attention.  I pounded harder, until my hand hurt, but my efforts were in vain.  I grew very weary, and was forced to lie down in the grass.  I lay there, completely unable to move on my own.  I heard and felt my heart pounding and my breathing heavy from exhaustion, and then I sank into a deep sleep.

  Despite everything that had happened within the dream, I did not get a bad feeling from it.

  My head is beginning to hurt.  It is not noon yet.  I guess I allowed my thinking to become more intense than I had planned.  I'll just rest a while.

  He closed the front door, and then headed straight to the fridge for a glass of fruit juice.  He glanced down at his cat as it ate some food from its bowl.  The cat was a female, but he never really thought of animals as being of any particular gender.  It was not of much consequence to him; though he did acknowledge the possibility that the cat being female may have been part of the reason he allowed it to stay, not to mention that it had a beautiful coat of black fur.

  He would have knelt down to give it a quick scratch on the head and chin if it had not been eating at the time.  It seemed to him that most carnivorous creatures would prefer to be left alone while eating, unless they were really domesticated.  That particular carnivore seemed to range from apathetic, to displeased on the matter, so he extended the courtesy anyway.

  He and the animal were quite similar in that regard.  He didn't particularly like to be bothered while eating, and it seemed slightly odd to him that whenever he did decided to eat, the cat might sit nearby, but it would never actually try to get the food or beg to be pet, which it seemed to like so unusually much.

  He was not quite hungry enough to eat anything, himself, but he did want to check his e-mail, so he went to his computer desk, set down his glass, turned on the computer, and let it start up while he went to the bathroom.

  When he came out of the bathroom, he saw the cat lounging in a patch of sun shining in through the nearby window.  He gave the cat a scratch on the head and belly, but it didn't seem to care that much, so he sat at his desk.  The cat just lay there and drifted off into sleep, or at least a light catnap.  He always found it an odd thing to see a cat that looked asleep suddenly start vigorously grooming itself while its eyes are still closed, then once again become still.

  The e-mail was pretty typical.  Half a dozen offers to enlarge his penis, another half-dozen so-called replies from people he never actually wrote to, and then another half-dozen messages of a nature he couldn't even begin to discern except by actually opening them, which he had absolutely no intention of doing.  He promptly deleted everything, and then logged off.

  He didn't really have any other plans, so he decided to think a moment to see if there was anything else he might want to do on-line.  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the cat rolling over onto its side and stretching out.  He was suddenly reminded that at work he had decided to try to find a name for the cat.

  While naming animals was not really his thing, and while he rarely ever had any reason to verbally address the cat by a name, there was still that small number of times that, for one reason or another, the situation did arise, and it had began to feel a bit odd calling the animal just "Cat".  After all, the animal had been with him for going on a year, and despite his own feelings regarding animals in general, that cat did seem to be unusually special.

  Now, on the matter of naming animals, he disliked anything stereotypical or terribly outrageous.  Names like Tiger and Muffy just simply would not do, and while he had a certain respect for Jellical names, even if he could think of one good enough, it just would seem appropriate in "his" cat's case.  That was another thing that deterred him from naming animals; he never felt it appropriate to consider oneself an owner, therefore it seemed equally inappropriate to declare proper names for them.

  That is why he decided that the name must declare itself, and that it might help if he did a little research.  So, after about ten minutes, it became abundantly clear that black cats aren't too terribly unique.

  Staring at the cat, he thought about different aspects of it.  He first reminded himself that it is a female cat, after all, so it should be something feminine, or feminine sounding.  He had noticed the cat hanging around the outside of his house a few times last year.  He thought he had seen it at a neighbor's house once, but that cat had a collar, and this one didn't, which didn't really mean it wasn't the same cat.

  He then gave a small laugh to himself when he recalled they day they officially met.  He was in his house, sitting on the couch, watching TV, when this black cat suddenly leaps up into the space beside him.

  He froze a moment, in disbelief, the cat gave a friendly meow, and then he slowly turned his head sideways.

  "How the-", and then the cat meowed again.

  He stared at the cat for about a minute, to see what it would do, but also to look the animal over.  No collar, looked clean, seemed healthy, obviously friendly, and was actually quite beautiful.

  "Okay," he had said, reaching a hand over to pet the animal.  The cat had been quite willing to be pet, so he picked up the animal and set it in his lap.

  "Aren't you the clever one," he had asked it, ignoring the fact that he had no idea how it had entered the house.

  The cat definitely seemed to be smarter than the average bear.  Or was it just that their personalities clicked so well?  He'd never witnessed the cat doing anything singularly outstanding, but he frequently wondered what was going on behind those little yellow and black eyes.

  So, the cat was clever, but also very affectionate, though it seemed much more so at some times than at other times.  It could go hours without even caring if he was around, and then suddenly the cat's in his lap, and just can't get enough of him.

  He found it odd that while most cats like to be scratched on the head, or under the chin, "his" cat seemed especially partial to having its cheeks scratched.  Sometimes it would even repeatedly run its cheeks along his foot or hand, on its own.

  And sometimes the cat would jump onto his bed and sleep with him.  It was a little bothersome when the cat would decided to get cozy right near the edge on his side of the bed, or worse, on top of, or between his legs, but he still made an effort to keep from knocking it off or around.  Being a light sleeper made it easier to accommodate, but it also made it harder to actually get some sleep.  No big deal, though, since more often than not, the cat stayed on the empty side, when it bothered to join him at all.

  The cat suddenly stretched out on its back and yawned.  Relaxed again, but still on its back, it looked around the room a moment, and then it looked at him.

  "Hey, there," he said.  "I'm trying to figure out your name.  Wanna help?"

  He was almost startled when the cat righted itself and darted towards him, jumping onto his lap and then onto the desktop.

  He wrapped his arm around the end of the cat to give the side of its belly a scratch while the cat seemed to have taken an interest in the computer screen and keyboard.

  "You want to write something for me?" He moved his hand back around to the mouse and opened up a new notepad file.  "There you go.  Let's see what you got.  If you're going to have a name, then it might as well be one of your own choosing."

  The cat nosed at the keyboard but did nothing else.  He punched a few keys, saying, "Here.  Go ahead," and then even took the cat's foot and pressed some keys.  He released the cat, hit enter, and then repeated, "Go ahead."

  The cat raised and lowered a paw a few times, seemingly apprehensive, but then finally stepped on the keyboard.  After about four or five steps, the cat backed off the board and began grooming itself.

  He looked at the screen and saw: jhhiiiiiiiisssssa

  "Hmm.  Let's see," he said, playing along with his own game.  "It looked like the 'j' was accidental, so let's erase that," and he did.  "As graceful as you may be, you definitely can't beat normal human fingers in typing, can you?" The cat looked at the screen.

  "So, we've got four letters, and we can probably get rid of their duplicates, though the 's' could possibly stay doubled.  So, we're looking at either 'Hisa' or 'Hissa'."

  He scratched the cat's side again.  "Well, I might believe 'Hissa', except for the fact that I've never once actually heard you hiss.  As for 'Hisa', it's not too bad, but I'm just not feeling it."

  As he began to stand up, he said, "You give it another go while I make myself a sandwich." He left the desk, and then went to the kitchen, where it took him about three minutes to make himself a nice turkey sandwich.  He wrapped the sandwich in a paper towel, and then brought it back to the desk.

  Sitting down again, he said, "Let's see if you got anything new." He looked at the screen and saw one new thing: nekomi.

  "Look at that," he said, staring.  "No repeated letters.  What are the odds?" He looked at the keyboard to see where the letters were in relation to each other.  "They're all pretty much together except for the 'e'."

  "'Nekomi'," he pronounced the word aloud.  "Sounds kind of Japanese." He took a bite of his sandwich and chewed it thinking, 'I can work with that.  I like Japan, so that worked out nicely.  Nice comfortable name; easy to say.' After he swallowed what was left in his mouth, he turned to face the cat and looked into its eyes from mere inches away and smiled.

  "So, you're Nekomi.  How ya doing?" The cat leaned forward and started to lick some turkey juice off the side of his mouth.  He laughed and pulled his head back.

  "Stop that," he said playfully, then added as a side note after a pause, "You're tongue is rough." He turned off the computer, and then stood up saying, let's go watch the new movie I bought.

  He carried his sandwich over to the coffee table and set it down so he could slide in the new DVD that he had bought the day before.  He retrieved his juice from the desk, and then returned to the couch to sit and continue eating as the movie's menu started up.

  As the movie played, he finished eating, and then Nekomi wasted no time begging for the petting.

  The rest of that particular night was spent on the couch, watching TV, until he finally decided to go to bed.  Nekomi was always quick to respond whenever he wanted to get up while she was on his lap, or some other part of him.  She seemed to be finely tuned to him in that regard, and others actually.  It never ceased to amaze him, whenever he thought about it.

  He washed his empty glass, and then went into his room, to find Nekomi already sitting on what he had only occasionally referred to as "her side" of the bed.  The times that she did join him were times for experimentation for him.  It took him some time, but he eventually noticed that whenever he undressed, Nekomi would immediately start grooming herself the moment he would begin taking off his pants.

  He had heard of people who didn't like undressing with their pets watching: but the other way around?  Wearing only his underwear, he went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and relieve himself, and then returned to the bedroom, the cat never looking right at him.

  He climbed under the covers, and then switched off the bedside lamp.  Sometimes the cat would immediately find a spot on or around him, and sometimes it took a few minutes to decide whether or not it even wanted to stick around.  He closed his eyes, and went about falling asleep, but he soon felt the cat's weighted steps move up the mattress and stop near his head.

  Today was a good day.  What a miracle to have such an opportunity to tell him my name, though it is interesting that he preferred my nickname given to me by my father.  Hisa is my true name, but father liked to call me Nekomi.  I so enjoyed playing with the village's cats, ever since I was a child.  I used to pretend I was a cat when my father was feeling sad, and it would always cheer him up.  He called me Nekomi, and it just stayed with me.  That was his very own name for me.

  No doubt that is why Yamauba put me in this form.  A twisted mercy on me, yet a poetic revenge on my father.  I hated her for so long after, yet she believed she was doing me a favor.  Yamauba, yet still my loving Yukionna: always looking out for me.

  How sad that my father eventually killed her.  His motive was revenge, but he had also hoped that it would break the spell.  Admittedly, part of me held the same hope as I watched Yamauba die.  I was so torn.

  For centuries I had wished that it had worked.  But now...  As I look at this man asleep before me, I feel no regrets, save Yamauba's unfortunate death.  I am now thankful to her.  Even though I cannot be certain he will actually be the one to release me, I have experienced nothing that would suggest otherwise.

  In fact, today's events have suggested even more that it is right.  He was actually speaking to me, as if to converse, and he was doing so in a normal tone; not speaking to me as if I were a small child, like so many others had done.

  I have no doubts that I could have typed him out a complete message, and he would have been easily accepting.  Sadly, I am forbidden to directly reveal my true self.  As Yamauba said, I must be known without being known.  I must be sensed without the senses.  I must receive ten thousand strokes by the one.

  I had forgotten that part.  I had lost count some months after first joining him.  He offered his affections so freely, that I could not keep up, especially since he can seem to so easily lull me to sleep at times.  I had eventually forgotten altogether that his strokes were what I actually required of him.

  For the longest time, I had thought the number of strokes was just something to sound profound, but as I went from person to person, I realized that ten thousand is actually quite a large number.  Even those people, who adored me, for the creature I was, never stroked me that many times.

  Oh, my head.  It has been a long day.  I forced myself to not get too involved in the movie we watched, because I wanted to be here for when he went to bed.  Lying there so peaceful and sweet.  For a while, I can pretend that he belongs to me.  Good night, my one.

  After cashing his paycheck, he stopped by the grocery store to pick up some food for the weekend, as well as a bag of cat food, and as he stood in front of the selection, he decided to treat Nekomi to some moist food as well, in celebration of her finding out her name.

  He returned home, put his own groceries away, and then opened up one of the cans of cat food.  The cat made a quick appearance upon the sounding of the can opener.

  "Maybe you were the neighbor's after all," he said.  "You certainly didn't learn that here." He scooped out the juicy meat into a small bowl from the drain wrack, and then set it down on the floor beside the cat's regular food bowl.  "Dig in."

  He went about his typical homecoming routine of checking his e-mail and then having some dinner.  A television show he enjoyed came on that night, so he watched it.  The cat didn't seem too interested in him, and was seen only periodically walking through the living room to do other things.  It was like that, sometimes.

  During a commercial break, he went to the bathroom, and as he passed the cat, he bent down to give it a quick scratch, and said, "Hey, cat.  What's up?" The animal's response was passive at best.  He went about his business, and the cat walked away to do who knows what.

  Even though it was Friday, he decided to turn in at his usual weekday time.  Maybe he would go somewhere tomorrow.  He hadn't done anything special in a while.  He had been staying home a lot more, recently, and he's been enjoying it, but still, he didn't want to risk sliding too deeply into a rut.

  After a little more TV, he brushed his teeth and headed for his bedroom.  No cat, he casually noted as he undressed.  He slipped into bed and turned off the light.  After a couple of minutes, he was slightly startled by a sudden weight on his chest.

  He opened his eyes, and though he could see very little, he knew, of course, that it was the cat.  He closed his eyes again and raised his hand to pet it.

  "There you are, Nekomi," he said softly.  She set herself down and was still while he slowly ran his fingers across her fur.  More minutes passed, and he was on the edge of sleep when the cat made a quiet meow.  He awakened somewhat, but quickly began to drift back down.

  His eyes shot open at the sound of the cat suddenly wailing.  The cat was still on him, but not actually doing anything to him, so he did not want to just toss her off of his stomach, where she seemed to have moved.  The cat was in a constant state of motion, and strangely, it seemed to be getting slightly heavier.

  He reached for the switch on his bedside lamp, but in the excitement and the distraction of the near constant crying, was having trouble finding it.  As he fumbled, the weight on him increased evermore, and it felt like the cat was stumbling around on top of him, up and down his torso.

  He finally found the light switch and turned it.  He squinted at the pain of the sudden light, but that quickly passed to let him see a virtually unrecognizable creature before him.

  For a time, the sight of the animal's body and limbs being unnaturally stretched froze him.  As the creature stumbled and rolled, desperately trying to right its position, he noticed the hair on its belly had become far sparser.

  Apprehensively, he decided to push the thing off of himself.  He pushed it towards the foot of the bed, and then pulled himself up into sitting position.  He then pushed the tortured animal further down, until it hit the bed's low footboard.

  As the creature grew larger and longer, the hair on its body seemed to be pulled in, while the hair at the top of its head appeared to grow longer.  The voice had changed from the cat yowling to something surprisingly more human sounding.

  Soon, the convulsing mass began to follow, taking on a recognizably humanoid form.  There were arms and legs, and fingers and toes grew more distinct.  What was once a cat's face had become longer and flatter, and the ears grew rounder.  He thought it may have been a figment of his imagination, but the bare, pale flesh of what would be the chest appeared to be developing breasts.  If only it would remain still long enough for a sufficient look.

  Moments later, the wailing stopped, as if there was no sound left.  The form had stopped moving around and collapsed across the foot of the bed.  As best he could tell from seeing only its back, there was a nude female before him.

  This presumed person was breathing heavily in such a way to suggest that she was still conscious, though she remained otherwise motionless.  He waited almost a minute, to see if the person would do anything, but the only change was that her breathing lessened.

  "Hello?" He spoke quietly, having no idea what to expect.  He waited a moment, but there was no response of any sort.

  "Hello," he asked again, then soon followed with carefully leaning towards the person.  He slowly put out his hand, extending his forefinger, and then he gently touched her shoulder, quickly pulling his hand away afterward.  She still did not move or make a sound, but he noticed that her skin was very hot.

  He gathered himself up on his knees, and then reached for her again.  He set his fingers lightly on her upper arm, held there a brief moment, and then moved her slightly.

  "Are you okay," he asked, bringing his hand back.  Listening again, this time he heard small sounds.  The sounds became a person's voice trying to speak.

  Though they were difficult and somewhat raspy, he heard the words, "I'm fine", and then she carefully cleared her throat.

  Once he recovered from the initial surprise, it finally set in that she was an actual person, and he folded his comforter back and over her body.

  "Am I a human, now," she asked, remaining still.  She spoke somewhat more smoothly; therefore he was able to detect a slight accent, though he could not yet identify it.

  It took a moment to register, but he answered.  "Uh, y-yes.  You appear to be."

  "Thank you," she said in such a whisper that he got the impression that she was not talking to him that time.

  "Can I, uh, help you with something," he asked, unsure if he should try anything more on his own.

  "It's difficult to move," she said, her speaking gradually becoming less difficult.

  He crawled the short distance to her, held her shoulder with one hand, and put the palm of his other against her back.  Gently and slowly, he turned her over onto her back, careful to keep her covered.  When he could see her face, he was surprised to find that she was Japanese.  Nekomi, he thought to himself.

  She had her eyes closed, and winced slightly, as if her muscles were sore or just out of use.  She tried to move her hands, but he was not sure if he should make an attempt to move them any more than she was able to herself.  He did not want to risk injuring her.

  Her hands laboriously moved up to her face, where they explored her features.  Her movement reminded him of a baby just learning to walk for the first time.  She clumsily ran her fingers over her cheeks and nose, and then across her closed eyes and down to her ears.

  A smile grew on her face, and then she said, "I am truly myself." He had no response.  "Help me up, please."

  "Okay." He slid a hand back under her and used the other on her shoulder again to steady her as he carefully lifted her.  The comforter being tucked in was impeding his progress at a certain point.

  "Hang on," he said, and then guided her back down.  He got off of the bed, and then moved around to the foot where he pulled the end of the comforter out from between the mattress and the footboard.  After that, he again helped her up into a sitting position.  She was not yet able to sit up on her own, so he held her steady.

  He moved around to the side of the bed, to be in front of her, where he lowered himself to his knees while holding the sides of her arms.  The comforter folded across her shoulder and chest hid her left arm, but her right arm and shoulder were exposed.  Her skin was still quite warm.

  She was incredibly beautiful, despite the fact that she looked worn-ragged.  He noted that her long hair shone straight and black, exactly as had the cat's.

  "Nekomi?"

  At first, he was not sure if she was crying or what.  Her lips widened, and she expelled a sudden breath, and the she raised her right hand to her mouth.

  "Yes," she said.  He could then see that she had simply laughed, though unintentionally, and with some discomfort.  "Yes," she repeated.  "It is me", she told him, reaching her right hand to the side of his head.

  Her warm hand moved across his cheek and chin.  Her fingers slid over his nose and forehead and the down the other side of his face, dropping weakly from his chin as she tried to move her left hand out from its confines.

  He helped her as best he could.  She was able to sit up on her own far better, but her efforts threatened to expose her body to him, so he worked to keep her covered.  When her other arm was free, he bunched up the comforter at her front so that he would not have to hold it.

  Both of her hands were now on his face, rubbing across its various surfaces.

  "I have fingers to touch you, now," she said grinning happily.  She then stopped her exploration, and held his head still, as if on display.  She did nothing else for a moment, but he did not want to move.  He simply stared at her, and then noticed her eyelids starting to move.

  No doubt blurry vision and light sensitivity was the cause of her repeated blinking, but soon she was genuinely looking at him, and then she was again smiling.  A wave of emotion washed over him at the sight of the joy in her eyes.  They both felt as if they could break into tears.

  "Hi," was all he could think to say, and then she fell to him and wrapped her arms around his neck.  A few tears did escape his eyes at that, and by the sound of it, she was creating a few of her own.

  When he managed to regain his composure, he asked, "What has happened?  What is happening?"

  She began to pull away from him, and he immediately helped her back into her sitting position, but then she said, "I need to lie down," and began to lean towards his pillow.

  "Okay," he said, as he put one arm around her back, and then slid the other under her knees.  He eased her into a comfortable recline and then tucked the comforter around her.  He recalled her heat and then asked, "Are you too hot?"

  "No," she replied.  "I am fine."

  He sat beside her, on the edge of the bed, and without thought, held her hand in his.  He looked her face over, quite taken, and then asked again, "What has happened?"

  She smiled and then began to explain.

  "I have been in the form of a cat for many centuries."

  "What," he said in near disbelief.

  "I do not remember the year, but I was born as a human in ancient Japan." He listened intently as she continued.  "I grew up in the small village of Kuchikawa.  My real name was Hisa...  Ichitoku Hisa."

  "You typed that on the computer, yesterday," he smiled in amazement.  "That was your name."

  "Yes, but my nickname is Nekomi.  My father called me that because, when I was a child, I would pretend to be a cat to cheer him up when he was unhappy.  I loved to play with the cats in my village."

  "Our village was very poor, and my father had always hoped that a wealthy man would come through and want to marry me.  He always told me that I was too beautiful for anyone in the village, so he refused all other proposals for my hand.  I had always been thankful for that, because I never loved any of the men in the village."

  Her face saddened, somewhat.  "When I was 24, however, a wealthy man did pass through, and he did ask my father for my hand.  My father was so overjoyed that he said yes immediately, but I did not feel the same way."

  She turned her gaze from him to looking at nothing in particular.  "I begged my father not to allow it, but he insisted that it was the best thing for my family and myself.  That night, I cried into the arms of Yukionna."

  "According to my father, he had found her wandering through the woods when I was still a baby.  She was old and told him that she had to abandon her home, because it had burned down.  She said she was a widow, and had been wandering aimlessly for the entire day and night.  She said that she now had nothing, and that she would do whatever he wanted if he would help her."

  "My mother had died of an illness the year before, and he told the woman that he would let her live in a small hut near our house if she would help raise me and cook and clean for us.  The old woman agreed, and she has been...  had been, like a mother to me."

  "The night I told her what was to become of me, she was almost as displeased as I.  As she tried to comfort me, she told me, 'Hush now, child.  Yamauba will take care of things'.  Yamauba was a secret name that she said I could call her, but I did not know at the time what it had meant."

  "She tried to talk my father out of the proposal, but it was in vain.  Yamauba became quite furious with him, and that night, she cast a spell over me.  She turned me into a cat.  She said she chose a cat because it was my favorite animal, and she wanted me to be happy, but also because it would be a painful irony to my father that his Nekomi was literally so.  I was his feline beauty for real."

  "She explained to me that now I would never need fear marrying someone whom I did not love." She looked into his eyes again.  "She said that only the one who would love me, and whom I would love, could return me to my human form.  Ten thousand strokes of the one."

  He wanted to speak, but felt that he shouldn't.  He instead only smiled.  She returned the smile, but only briefly.

  "When my father discovered what she had done, he killed her in a fit of rage and hope that the spell would be undone by the mountain witch's death.  When it did not work, my father was never the same man as he had been.  I was never able to cheer him up again, but I stayed with him until he died some months later."

  "For many years, I hated Yamauba for what she had done, but I have long since forgiven her.  And now," she raised her free hand to his cheek and smiled again, "I regret nothing."

  She let go of him with both hands, and then pushed her elbows into the mattress to sit herself upright.  He helped her at her shoulder and then let go when she was steady.  She held the sides of his face again; looked at him a moment, smiling, and then she leaned in, closing her eyes, to kiss him on the lips.

  He was frozen for an instant at the touch of her soft lips, but then he found the thought to hold the back of her head and return the kiss.  He had no real concept of time for it, but when they had finally parted, he had a vague recollection of having to force himself to take a breath about three times.

  "So I actually pet you ten-thousand times," he asked quietly.  They both gave a small laugh.

  "Apparently so," she replied equally.

  "Wow."

  "And I enjoyed every one." A pause.  "Well...  all the ones I was there for."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Sometimes I had only a cat mind.  Other times I had my own.  I did not always know what was happening to myself."

  "Is that why you ignored me sometimes?"

  "Trust me," she said.  "I never ignored you," she added with a smile before giving him small kiss.  When she pulled away again, he saw her eyes were still closed, and it looked like she was experience a dizzy spell.

  "Are you okay," he asked.

  She nodded and answered.  "Yes.  I just need to rest.  I will feel better after I have slept."

  She glanced over at the other side of the bed, and began to try to move herself, so he stood up and lifted her over.  After setting her in place, he pulled the sheet on her side of the bed down from beneath her and then back up over her and the comforter around her.  He was then able to retrieve the comforter to spread it back across the bed.

  "Do you need a pillow," he asked her.

  "No," she answered.  "I think I will sleep well without one, tonight."

  "Okay." He tidied the covers and then slipped under them once again, but he did not turn off the light.  Instead he turned onto his side to face her.  They both just looked at each other for a time, his fingers of one hand entwined with hers, and then he grinned widely.

  "What," she smiled.

  "I just bought new cat food, today." She laughed.  "Are you sure we couldn't have done this yesterday?"

  "I guess you did not pet me quite enough yesterday."

  "That's unfortunate." He paused.  "I was ignored ever since I got home, today.  Where were you?"

  "I did not awaken until after you had gone to bed.  I had wanted to awaken sooner but I have limited control over the switching."

  "I bought you some wet cat food to celebrate you having a name, but it wasn't really you that eat it, was it?"

  "You bought wet food for me?  Aww," slightly disappointed.  "I am sorry I missed that."

  They were quiet again for a few minutes, and then he spoke.  "So, I take it you learned English as a cat."

  "Aren't you the clever one," she replied, and he laughed.

  After about a minute, he watched her eyes slowly closing, though her smile remained.  He stayed awake and just watched her sleep for about half an hour before finally closing his own eyes.

  "Good night, Nekomi," he barely whispered.