E3 — STATIC SHOCK

The Nekotsu Curse?

The subterranean air hangs heavy with pipe smoke and mystery. Those piercing blue eyes press into me. Whatever the Nekotsu Curse is, it has sucked away every ounce of this cat’s carefree aura. No more relaxed posture. No more satisfied smile. 

“Come on.” The billowing cloud of a cat lifts from the hardwood. “This way,” he directs with a tail flick, leading me around the back of the building.

Moss tickles my paw pads as curiosity suffocates me. Quietly, muscles tense, I follow until the soft green carpet gives way to an earthen circle ringed by nine heavy stones. A glassy singe mark in the middle of one of the rough boulders catches my eye. How strange. It’s as if a bit of the surface was melted. But by what? In fact, each rock shares the same wound, all facing the center of the dirt circle.

“Over here,” the upright cat calls.

I join him in the ring where he’s sketching out a crude dirt doodle. “Look here,” he motions with his tail to a coil made of nine loops. “This is the life of a cat. Or, more accurately, the lives of a soul that resides in cat form. Each loop represents one life cycle. See this here?” He leans in, pointing his pipe at the drawing. “These junctions at the bottom, think of them as kittenhood. Life goes on, and time eventually comes to an end.” He traces his hand above the loop. A ring of smoke rises from his pipe, floating towards the roots above. “But the soul continues on, just as the line continues into the next loop, until eventually it reaches the end. Past the end lies the Spirit Realm. The soul’s final resting place. Ascension. You see, life as a cat is the soul’s final reincarnation checkpoint. The physical form closest to Enlightenment. One last material existence broken into nine lives. Nine chances to correct any lingering imbalances before entering the Spirit Realm.”

“Yeah, sure…” More senile preaching? At least one thing’s clear: I don’t need lessons on basic cat metaphysics. Young, old, dead. Ninefold. But what does it matter when you completely lose your identity?

“Well, this illustration holds true for the majority of cats. But it’s not the only journey that a soul might be forced to navigate.”

“The Nekotsu Curse…” I murmur as he begins drawing another image into the dirt.

“Bingo. This,” he says, finishing a self-contained spiral with nine revolutions, “represents the soul’s journey once the Mikoneko has set it on the Nekotsu Path. Instead of living nine complete life cycles tethered together by kittenhood, Nekotsu lives remain incomplete even after death, looping around and around within the same cycle. One soul living up to nine lives; each unanchored to kittenhood, each beginning in the middle. A path spiralling towards final death like water circling a drain.”

“Nine lives without experiencing kittenhood?” I scratch my chin.

“Well, not quite. No kitten is born Nekotsu, but a cat may become one during their first death… So technically that would be up to eight lives without being a kitten,” he mumbles as I try to make sense of his ridiculous claim.

“This… Well, it can’t be. There’s no way.” But it would explain how I’m here, murdered yet alive. No, there’s no such thing as soul curses and Spirit Realms. Then again, there was the spirit cat-thing. Did she really curse me? This cat has no reason to lie to me, not so elaborately at least. And if it were just senile ramblings, how did he know anything about that Void place? My stomach tenses. My eyes follow the dirt spiral’s flow round and round, trying to find my place within its path to death. “Hold on, if any of this were actually real, why? What could cause something so… insane?”

“It’s crucial to understand that the universe is held together in a state of perfect equilibrium, but the balance is delicate. That’s why the Mikoneko exists: to act as its guardian. She can’t just let any ol’ imbalanced soul stroll into the Spirit Realm. Even a small disruption to the equilibrium could result in catastrophic consequences for both the Spirit and Physical Realms.”

“You’re telling me that this world, with all the dishonor and evil afflicting it, is operating in perfect balance?”

The puffball shakes his head, exhaling a sorry cloud of gray. “Oh, young one, it’ll do you well to remember that good and evil mean nothing to the Mikoneko. Morals and ethics, right and wrong, they’re all just words generated by physical minds. Subjectivity belongs to the Physical Realm. It is the counterweight to the Spirit Realm’s objectivity. This is why any cat could end up bearing the Nekotsu Curse. Being closest to enlightenment does not make us immune to the pitfalls of this plane. Any cat, when subjected to the right circumstances, can become cursed by an imbalance of the soul, and thus, a threat to universal balance.”

“And you’re telling me because I woke up at that shrine, I’m one of these cursed cats?”

“A Nekotsu. Yes. Well, no. Not because you woke up there, actually. Technically, you were reincarnated there because the veil separating the Spirit and Physical Realms is thinnest at shrines. It simply happened to be the nearest one to where you died. But that’s just evidence proving my diagnosis. Simply put, you’re a Nekotsu because the Mikoneko decided to alter your reincarnation cycle in hopes that the Spirit Realm is saved from your imbalance.”

“But why? Why would some spirit cat randomly choose to curse me? I seek justice. Honorable retribution. Nothing more. How could my path threaten the world with calamity?” I question indignantly.

“The Mikoneko is not concerned with context. Remember, she does not answer to ethics. Her decisions are much more… simple.” He flicks ash from his pipe. “Cats who receive the Nekotsu Curse are chosen because they cling to a deep-seated need that is left unsatisfied at death. Warmth, freedom, food, justice; it doesn’t matter. The specifics vary from cat to cat, but it is always something dire enough to throw their soul out of balance. A need so soul-consuming that, if left unchecked, the imbalance it creates would destroy universal equilibrium upon entering the Spirit Realm. That is when the Mikoneko is forced to intervene, and why she must endow us with Somnemic Elasticity.”

“Somnemic? Elasticity?”

“Catchy, huh?” A whisper of a smirk flashes across his face before burning back to his stern expression. “It’s the term I created to describe your experience now. The phenomenon by which a soul’s physical form and memories are preserved during the process of reincarnation. That’s why you’re back, not as a fresh kitten, but as you were before. Grown, red, and full of memories that likely fill you with pain. This Elasticity is the most integral aspect of the Nekotsu curse. Well, that and the idiosyncratic power bestowed upon each of us.”

“Wait… Power?” Impossible. There’s no such thing. Unless… that vending machine… The way it flashed and flickered, the way this strange cat’s aura seemed to amplify, the way his tail puffed. And there was the man and his rectangle. A flick of the tail sent it sizzling and popping to an early grave. Could it really be?

Before I can make sense of what to ask next, my ears swing instinctively. Someone’s approaching. Fast. My back arches, my claws unsheath as I enter a ready stance.

“Now, now,” the upright cat says calmly, patting my shoulder. “No need for that. Those are not the pawsteps of an enemy.”

“Pablo!” A sharp voice stabs out, bouncing from one wall of the hollowed chamber to the other. “Pablo, help!”

“Pablo?” I whisper to myself. 

The sound of paws amplifies until a scampering torbie cat skids around the building. “Oh! Thank! God!” She huffs labored breaths between each word.

“Lily? What’s wrong?”

“It’s th—, the, that—” Lily sucks down air, stammering and stuttering desperately. “That dog! He’s back!”

Frustration paints Pablo’s fluffy white face. “And the kittens?”

“Hid in the, the den… But who knows what’ll happen if he sniffs them—” Lily’s words give way to sobs.

“Damn… Alright, wait here.” Pablo offers a reassuring smile. “I’ll handle this. And you,” he says to me, “looks like you’re in for a little demonstration. Come on, we need to hurry. This pup is trouble.”

In a flash of white, he drops on all fours and bolts for the exit, ducking the curtain and pushing up to the surface with a speed unfit for such an old cat. Keeping up is a real hassle. Sunlight jolts my eyes as I vault to the grassy park. Birds tweet screams of warning as squirrels offer cruel taunts.

“There,” the fluffball points with his tail. On the far side of the park, a massive dog trods along, its nose pressed to the ground, its face hard with devious intent. The look of a predator on the hunt. It sniffs back and forth, winding its way towards a low-hanging bush with dense leaves and the smell of an occupied den.

“Stay back!” Pablo roars, his eyes set with that dangerous look as he pushes forward, cutting between the dog and the bush.

Mysterious powers and dangerous look aside, there’s no way an ancient cat has a chance against a dog like this. Its legs are wrapped with battle-tested muscles. Its scarred snout displays a proclivity and experience in combat. Sharp, pointed ears and low-drooping jowls accentuate the brutality of the beast. 

“You,” the dog rumbles like a great tree preparing to snap.

The upright cat rises tall before him.

“I told you to find another place to spread your piss, didn’t I, Corso?” Pablo’s fur puffs to twice the volume.

“And I told you that I mark where I please, cat?” He spits the title out like it tastes bad, his massive teeth glistening in the sunlight, strings of saliva swinging from his cheeks.

“I’d rather not do this…” Pablo sighs, a resonant vibration amplifying from his chest. 

“Why? Your little protector isn’t home, is she?” He snickers  

“I’m not the warrior I once was, ya know?” Pablo shakes his head, his fur still puffing.

Wait, is that… He’s purring? At a time like this?

“Then your death will be painful,” the dog snarls.

I should look away. I’d rather not see this senile cat’s life violently shaken out of him, but curiosity holds my gaze. The stormcloud-gray beast lunges, snapping his teeth with enough force to crack a tree branch. Pablo, at the last possible moment, takes a calm step back, avoiding the fangs by less than half a whisker. The sound of the empty bite rings through the park louder than the pounding of thunder. It silences the fearful onlookers clinging to the shadows and tree branches. The canine rumbles a deep growl, then snaps again.

With the poise of an experienced warrior, the puffball places two paws atop the dog’s nose and pushes himself into the air. Sparks snap across his fur as he rolls into an airborne flip, landing upright on the dog’s broad shoulders. Forepaws pressed together as if in prayer, Pablo’s coat crackles with discharging static. Pablo presses his paw pads onto the perplexed dog’s temples. A fur-singeing zap jolts through the massive canine, collapsing him with a heavy thud.

My mouth hangs low as Pablo lackadaisically strolls from the fallen beast’s back. He takes a moment to circle the beast, packing his pipe as he goes. 

“That’s all, huh?” He says, gratefully. “Corso!” Pablo yells, giving the dog a strong whack on the nose. “Wake up, you brute. I didn’t give you enough voltage to stop that giant heart of yours…” He looks at his paw with concern. “Did I?”

The dog coughs out a shaky breath, its hairs still reaching rigidly for the sky.

“Ah, there he is,” Pablo smiles. “Time to go, big guy… You’re done here.”

The dog doesn’t move.

“Hmm,” Pablo rubs his chin. Relaxed, he saunters around the dog. A mischievous grin twists Pablo’s whiskers. “Last chance,” he says, lifting his over-puffed tail above the dog’s rump.

No response.

With a tail-tap to the tip of the dog’s stump, Pablo sends another zap. Instantly resuscitated, the hulking beast springs into the air with a whelp and whimpers his way across the grass, desperately fleeing the fluffy warrior.

The park erupts as cats, squirrels, and birds alike rejoice in Pablo’s decisive victory. He waves off the applause like it was as simple as shooing a bothersome fly, leaving me with one burning question: 

Who the hell is this mysterious cat?

*Illustrations are formatted in traditional manga style: right to left, starting at the top*

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