FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The next couple of weeks passed with the same pattern. I slept for fifteen hours a day (a good day for a feline), ate simple meals prepared by Mr. Hattori, and attacked him with questions which were rarely fully answered. I quickly found that he did not like to be disturbed while meditating, which he did for hours a day, so I mostly left him alone.

Mr. Hattori said my arm was healing quickly, and that I would have no permanent damage from the gunshot either. I still felt a little lightheaded at times, which Mr. Hattori explained was from massive blood loss. So for the remaining hours of the day I mostly laid in my bed and just thought or read. Mr. Hattori had a large selection of old books, especially of the classics. I protested reading them at first, but the old fox insisted. I gave in, and was surprised to find I liked them. With so much time on my paws, I quickly got through Moby Dick, The Complete Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, The Art of War, and so on. He helped me as best he could on words I did not know, but I knew that English was not his first language. Besides the hassle of looking up words, I actually enjoyed these tales of old. I was surprised how applicable those stories still are today.

I tried not to think of what had happened just two weeks before. Even though my wounds on the outside were healing rapidly, those inside still hurt like hell. I tried to forget that Brad, my best friend for as early as I can remember, was gone forever. We had hardly spent a moment apart all those years, and on one day after about a week at Mr. Hattori's I woke up and expected to see his black, fuzzy head peering down at me from the top bunk. I actually broke down crying. Me. Who's grown up in New Lou, and learned how to survive on the streets, and who tried and failed to take down the city's crime kingpin in one fell swoop. I cried. I cried harder than ever before. Harder than when I was teased and made fun of at the orphanage, or when the adults there said Brad and I couldn't be superheroes anymore, or any other time I could remember. And the worst part was, in the past, Brad was always there to help comfort me, and I him. But the silence gave no such comfort, and I slipped into the deep abyss of that never-ending sorrow.

Mr. Hattori noticed my change in attitude. In retrospect, I guess it was pretty obvious, because I had practically stopped asking questions altogether, and stared blankly into space while I ate my eggs in the morning. He asked what was wrong, and I told him that it was just a little discomfort from my injuries. But the funny thing about Mr. Hattori is that he can somehow always tell when I'm lying.

About three weeks after I had arrived, Mr. Hattori had a surprise for me as a shuffled sleepily into the kitchen: a fat stack of pancakes with butter and syrup lay on the small table. My eyes grew wide, and I asked Mr. Hattori multiple times if they were really meant for me. He nodded and motioned for me to eat. I sat down immediately, and began with much lip-smacking and purrs of pleasure. The syrup was warm and sweet, almost overly so. The pancakes let out small clouds of steam as I cut into them savagely with my fork. I put the fluffy confection into my impatient mouth, and savored the chewy, light texture. The chunks hurt a bit as they went down my throat, still too big from neglect of chewing in my impatience for the next mouthful.

I ate the whole stack in five minutes flat, with three glasses of ice-cold milk to wash them down. My stomach bulged and complained, but the warmth and sweetness pacified my pain receptors. I had not had pancakes in years, not since I left the orphanage. It was easily the best food I've ever tasted.

Mr. Hattori sat down at the other seat at the table with a pleased expression on his face. He let me bask in ecstasy for another moment before starting a conversation. "Now I ask you question. What is wrong with you lately, doraneko?" he asked in his to-the-point way.

I looked at him in surprise. His question had caught me off guard, and had interrupted my after glow. My world of euphoria came crashing down into cold, hard reality as I searched for the answer to his question. Suddenly, I didn't feel so warm and fuzzy inside, and my stomach felt like it was going to explode. The sorrow once more felt overwhelming, and loomed over me like a dark cloud.

"I don't want to talk about it," I answered, and stood up to go back to my room to sulk.

A strong hand appeared on my shoulder and forcefully sat me back in my chair. "You will talk now," Mr. Hattori said commandingly. "What is wrong?"

I looked away from his almost-pleading face, hoping desperately to find a hidden door or passageway inside the blank wall behind me. There wasn't one.

"Just leave me alone, okay?" I asked him in angsty teenager fashion, and tried to get up again. This time, I couldn't even stand up from my chair his hand held me so hard. I was always surprised at the strength the old fox possessed for his age.

"You tell me. Now." He stared right through my eyes and into my soul. I could see myself reflected in those cold, yet somehow comforting grey eyes. I looked like a completely different person. The leopard staring back at me scared me. It was my own reflection, yet someone I had never seen before, and never want to see again.

I felt a tear start to form in the corner of my eye. I tried to hide it by turning away from Mr. Hattori again, but it was too late. The small, sparkling tear streamed down my cheek and dropped down onto the floor. Mr. Hattori's hard gaze softened, and he leaned in closer so I could put my head on his shoulder. I did, and then the waterworks really began. I don't know how long I sobbed, but the whole time Mr. Hattori patted me on the back and softly spoke words of comfort into my ear. I probably soaked his shoulder I cried for so long. During the gasping breaths between sobs, I guess my whole story just kinda spilled out. I told him about the orphanage, about Brad, about everything up to this point. And I knew that that was all gone.

"My plan failed, my best friend's dead, and now I have nothing else to live for," I lamented.

Mr. Hattori moved backwards, taking away my crying shoulder. It startled me, and I looked up into his eyes. His stern look transfixed me, and stopped my tears.

"You always have something to live for." He told me comfortingly. "There is always a reason you are here on this Earth. You and I may not know what it is yet, but you must find your reason in this world for yourself. I can help you find your path, but you must be the one to choose it."

I hung my head, but Mr. Hattori's caring hand lifted it to meet his gaze once more. "What has happened to you is tragic. But it is all behind you now. That was old life. Now you have chance for new one. Today is the start of new day. Your new life begins now."

He stood up, and offered me a paw. I looked at it for a second. Wrinkled with age, I knew it was capable of great pain and even greater compassion. I took his paw without another thought, and he helped stand me up.

I took a deep breath, and let it out with a deflated puff. It felt like a giant, pressing weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Like Atlas was finally allowed to set down the Earth he had carried on his shoulders for thousands of years. I felt lightheaded again, and almost fell over in the moment of all these feelings mixing and combining in new and confusing ways. But as always, Mr. Hattori's paw was there to hold me up and help me through it. My mind suddenly felt tranquil and clear. It also felt somehow empty, as if something was missing. After a moment, I realized it was all the hate and sorrow I had kept bottled up for so long. Now they were gone, and a different feeling took its place. I closed my eyes and basked in this moment of calm, of safety, of stillness, of peace. In that moment, everything felt alright again, if only for a second.

I finally opened my eyes. The small kitchen seemed bright as my eyes adjusted again to the light. I noticed Mr. Hattori had been watching me with a knowing look. "You have found peace within yourself. That is good. This is first step to emotional recovery. For most people, it can take months, even years. Remember where this peace is in your mind, and you can come back to it at any time."

I nodded. He smiled and patted me on the back. "You have learned much today, doraneko. But it is time you learn some more." I looked at him, confused. "You see, you have told me much about yourself today," he explained. "Now it's time I tell you more about myself. Come, doraneko."