Catgirl Isekai Gone Wrong

[HiddenMaster]

Art by Gab0o0

Chapter One: The Obligatory Reincarnation Fairy is more Muscular than Expected

When I died, I expected there to be less fire. Some might think flames being my painful end was symbolic of what awaited me in certain Abrahamic religions based on my pornographic choices, but I'd always thought that was unfair. Alas, I digress and am really trying not to think of the real issue at hand: fire and its intimate relationship with my body.

Then, between one painful second and eternity, it was over. The agony dissipated, even if its memory lingered as I slowly realized I was not, in fact, on fire.

I blinked. I was definitely not where I was a moment before. For one, there was much less burning apartment building and many more golden flowers. In fact, there were flowers as far as the horizon covering the hills like a radiant blanket of sunlight.

"Ya done screaming, then?" a gruff voice asked. I looked around, whipping back and forth dumbly before I spotted the speaker.

My mind briefly short circuited as I stared.

It was a man. However, this man was the most ripped being I had ever fucking seen. His muscles had muscles that won awards in powerlifting competitions. Even his neck looked as if it was consumed by raw muscle mass long ago. He made the gym bros I'd known in life look like rank amateurs at best. He was shirtless, wore biker jeans, had close cut red hair, and possessed a gold nose ring.

He was also about six inches tall, hovering in the air, and had the prettiest set of rainbow dragonfly wings I'd ever seen on his back.

A thousand questions and thoughts popped into my mind. The stupid one came out first. Naturally.

"You're a fairy!" I oozed eloquence.

"Figured that out yourself, did ya?" He folded his arms and looked uniquely unimpressed.

"But you are," I said. I wanted to crawl in a hole and die. I see a supernatural creature for the first time in my life, and I blurt the obvious twice?

"Okay, clearly, you're out of fucking sorts. So, question, human, you know what's happened or do I need to give the talk?"

His question took me aback as my brain had been pondering fairies and my own stupidity, but then I had a sudden existential crisis as the previous few minutes rushed back to me; the pain of searing flames, the sudden cutoff when agony turned to numbness as nerves shriveled and died. Yet, the single worst part of it that amounted to more revulsion than anything I have ever experienced was the realization that the acrid scent of burnt meat wafting around was me.

"I'm dead, aren't I?" I stated. The words, said so softly, nonetheless carried an enormous weight that made me slump. If there'd been a chair I'd have fallen into it. Wait, scratch that: I was on the ground. At least I'd landed on my knees.

"Ya know, alright," the fairy said, sounding sympathetic. "Happens to us all. Happened to ya sooner than most."

I spent some time staring at the flowers beneath me, processing that I was dead. "So… what, uh, happened? I remember fire…"

The fairy shrugged. "The obvious. Ran into a burning building to try and save someone, got trapped, your shirt caught fire, then your hair, you stumbled, then a falling beam brained ya."

I couldn't slump anymore, but hearing the words so nonchalantly confirming what I remembered sucked what energy I had left right out of me.

"Did I," I asked, voice small. "Did I save anyone?"

"Nah, not really. Your heart was in the right place, but everyone was out already. The screaming you heard was an ancient Furby going ballistic."

"I…really?" I spoke. I pretended it wasn't a squeak or that my voice broke for the first time in years.

"Yup. Furbies kill way more people than you'd expect, malicious bastards," Mr. Muscles said.

"Don't you mean accidentally cause deaths?" I asked. I had to have misheard him.

"No." His words were resolute and final.

I had nothing I could say to that. I simply stared at him, the ground, the sky, and the flowers for a long minute before I came to a conclusion. "This sucks."

Mr. Muscles nodded. I didn't say anything else, but honestly, what was there to say? I died for nothing. A part of me was pissed, albeit I wasn't sure at whom I was angry. The Uber for canceling on me, meaning I had to walk home and stumbled on the burning building? Me, for running into the apartment like the hero I wasn't? The owner of that demented Furby who made me think someone was still in there? Mr. Muscles here for being a bit blunt?


Eventually, I recovered enough to speak. Recovery was a strong word for the mental state I was in, but I'd always coped with inane questions. "So, gotta ask. Wasn't expecting a fairy," I said.

At this, Mr. Muscles shrugged, his oiled biceps flexing to catch the light and remind me once again that the most fucking ripped being I'd ever seen was a six-inch-tall fairy. "My goddess was tied up dealing with some overeager soul reaper with a truck, and I owed a favor so I'm taking care of some of her work. It's mostly a pain in my ass, but at least you're not like the other half dozen I've dealt with."

Part of me really wanted to ask, but I didn't. Humans were weird. He could have had people try to swat him, pet him, gush over him, or proposition him. Add in how God damned muscular he was, and I was sure this fairy had gotten weird reactions. Another thought occurred to me, and I didn't bother holding it back. "Have something against shirts?" I asked.

"They restrain my power," Mr. Muscles said. He flexed, muscles rippling as the sun suddenly glinted off his oiled and tanned skin perfectly to show off. Every last bird in the nearby hills burst into song that sounded disturbingly like Latin while the golden flowers around spontaneously bloomed and shined as if graced with the sun's dazzling power except it was this fucking fairy's pecs. "Damn I'm good," he said, letting his entire chest ripple.

I once again had absolutely no coherent way to respond to that, so I didn't.

"So, um, my afterlife?" I asked, voice wavering as I changed the subject from whatever that was.

"Sorta. See, your karma was meh. Not too bad, not too good either. Probably good for some sort of purgatory and long-ass period of self-reflection before the next step, but you did go out selflessly with no thought of personal gain. You tried, and even if it was pointless, it pushed your karma past a tipping point. Congratulations, you earned a reward," the Schwarzenegger fairy said. "You can go onto the afterlife, or reincarnate. Your choice."

The words rocked me. I dismissed the first almost immediately. The way he spoke of the afterlife made it seem final. It was little more than a gut feeling, but I wasn't ready for whatever was at the end of that road. I'd rather try my hand at this whole being alive thing. At least it would be somewhat more familiar. "Are there any limitations here?"

"Nah, not really. Infinite realities to toss ya at. Can't throw you back into your own world and won't make you into a walking god or anything, but I could adjust you well enough. So, what'll it be? Born rich and famous? World full of love and lust? Wanna be a hero? How about-"

"Catgirls," I said. It was never really a question.

There was a pause.

"Gonna have to elaborate on that, son." Mr. Muscles said.

I had to shut up. I simply had to close my mouth and change the subject. Perhaps tea making, or coffee.

I opened my mouth.

"I want to reincarnate in a place where there's beautiful, bodacious, lovable catgirls. Tall catgirls, short catgirls, busty catgirls, thicc catgirls, smart catgirls, nerdy catgirls, fierce catgirls, weird catgirls, I want them all. I want there to be catgirls as far as the eye can see. All catgirls, all the time."

God damn it.

There was a pause.

"This is a fetish thing, isn't it?" Mr. Muscles asked.

I couldn't meet his eyes.

He sighed. "Sure, this is what you want?"

"Yes? Why? Is there a problem with it?" I asked, concerned.

"Nah, just thinking… well, not my place to say, but what the heck, I can work with this. Might even do some good?" he said. "Also, son, you really should work on your wording. Maybe next time, eh?"

Alarm bells went off in my head. I would have to choose my next question well.

"What would be your thing?" I blurted out, focusing on the exact wrong thing. I needed to work on impulse control.

"Giant women," he said simply. Before I could comment he slapped his hands together with a surprisingly loud slam. "Well, you have made your choice. Don't say I didn't warn ya," he said. He then did something that made me wonder if I made a mistake.

He smirked. I then realized, or more accurately, remembered, I was dealing with a fairy. A member of the Fae. The rippling muscles had distracted me, but this was still a fucking fairy handling my reincarnation.

"Wait!" I tried to say. I failed as a nearby sunflower turned, grew a thousand times its normal size, head split in half with squirming teeth, and ate me. All went dark before my world exploded in radiance.

To describe what happened was quite impossible, as I didn't have the vocabulary. Hell, I could barely conceptualize what was occurring to me as I experienced it.

I tasted sound and heard the rainbow while also running backwards doing a backstroke in non-Newtonian pudding. It was like I'd managed to end up in someone else's drug-induced memory, as nothing was clearly mine, and yet paradoxically it was all familiar. I thought I saw my dad punching a leprechaun, but I was not certain, as my senses felt like half melted butter-pecan ice cream.

…

Gradually, the radiance receded, the feeling of ice cream dissipated, and all I could experience was darkness and soft warmth.

I tried to open my eyes, but my eyes didn't want to respond. I tried raising an arm but besides a faint wiggle I couldn't even move, and on top of that, everything felt wrong. Even thinking was… off, like the one time I'd gotten drunk on a high-school friend's stolen six pack. Every thought, every attempt at action, was slowed, sluggish, and I still couldn't see.

I tried calling out into the darkness. I managed some warbling that sounded off to me, but I couldn't figure out why. Everything was just so wrong. Eventually, I thought back to Mr. Muscles and how I got here and thought this might be one of those game worlds? I'd never found that genre too interesting, but maybe…

"System?" I thought, with some trepidation. Nothing happened. "Status?" I tried, to no response. "Inventory?" I asked. Nothing. "Stats? Skills? Map? World?" I shot off these phrases with some urgency, hoping for any response to tell me what was even happening. Nothing worked.

I tried so many things, phrases, meanings, requests, and more. I even tried in what limited Spanish I knew. Finally, with all options exhausted, I tried a simple but fundamental, "Help?" Silence was my only answer.

I was left alone with my sluggish thoughts, unable to even tell what state my body was in. It felt weird and off, yet I couldn't even look at it. My eyes just wouldn't obey, and the world remained dark.

Left with my thoughts, I was forced to think.

…something hot and heavy slammed into my back from above. A maelstrom of pain raced down my back as I fell. I screamed desperately. I flailed, scratched at the floorboards, at anything to keep moving and away from the fires. The realization I couldn't feel my legs anymore just made my panic worse as it exploded like a gibbering animal. Then, my body went oddly cold for the briefest moment as I felt the flames move from the building to my own skin…

I shuddered. I… I had died. With the fairy and the surreal nature of my situation I didn't have to think, but here, now, the realization washed over me like an inevitable tide.

It was over. I hadn't even finished my second year of college.

I wouldn't be able to show my dad my degree. My little cousins would never see their uncle turned favorite babysitter again. I'd never draw that cyberpunk comic I'd always talked about. I'd never find someone to love me and be loved in turn. My friends I'd promised to keep up with, to keep the good times going, would continue without me.

Everyone would continue, just without me.

The only thing left for me in that world was my charred corpse and a funeral.

I was twenty years old when I died.

I shuddered as regret washed over me like a wave of rain.

I'd barely lived.

I cried.

That, at least, I could do right. I let the pain out in tears and sobs. The pains of a lost world, lost friends, lost family, lost potential, a lost lifetime, let out in tears.

Eventually, unknown but strangely warm words pierced through the cage of my own sobs.

"Ná bí buartha, a dhuine bhig."

I couldn't move, I couldn't see, but I could certainly hear. The words were soothing, feminine, and washed over me like a wave of gentle rain. I didn't know what they meant, but they definitely did something. I felt my fears, the panic and sadness gripping me, not disappear but fade in prominence as a sense of safety and comfort overtook them. I tried to see, to listen to the whole song, but I was suddenly exhausted. Consciousness slipped from me, and I was beyond grateful as I fell asleep for the first time in a new world.

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Chapter One Author's note:

This story is…odd, I know. Just getting this first chapter out has been both a joy and a struggle.
Funny enough, it originated out of, believe it or not, annoyance. I came across another catgirl isekai where the guy in said story told the mythical being reincarnating him he wanted a world of all catgirls, and the author didn't follow through with the obvious joke of him being a catgirl.

I initially made this as something of a joke with some friends, but it's slowly been growing. I had ideas for a lot of parody formats here ranging from a one shot that ends with him realizing he is now his own waifu to finding out that there's thousands of other isekais and he's definitely not the hero, but writing it out, I felt there was some potential in dealing with both the comedic side and the emotional side. Most isekai tend to gloss over dying, but as someone who's experienced death of multiple loved ones in life, I think that's a load of BS. I want to explore more of that, alongside an adventure in a new world.

That's the aim, anyway. We'll see where this goes.

I will freely note that I am writing this as an experiment in writing a longer story format, so if it's a bit rough at times, that's why.

That said, I do have Arc 1 mostly complete, coming up to about 50k words, so expect regular updates here, every Saturday or Sunday afternoon.

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[HiddenMaster]

In retrospect, figuring out I had a tail before I realized my penis was gone probably said something about me.

In my defense, thinking at all was difficult. A haze consistently hung over my thoughts, and I had long periods where I remembered nothing at all, like I had blacked out. Compounding matters further was my eyesight, or lack thereof.

I couldn't see, only hear and feel. I don't think I'd ever considered, seriously, how much I relied on sight for basic comprehension of my environment, but with it gone I found myself sincerely missing it.

I can't say how long this haze lasted, but it gave me a newfound appreciation for what it felt like to be bedridden, blind and helpless. The one thing that broke the haze were the moments when the soothing voice returned to sing to me, but even there, I could barely do anything but focus on the song and then likely black out. This process repeated, again and again.

One day, it ended.

I opened my eyes, and I saw blue. Well, blue and red. I couldn't tell what the blue and red blurs even were, but even that much was an improvement. Seeing anything after so long in the dark was wonderful and made me want to jump up in joy. I settled for wiggling instead, feeling something else wiggling about with me far more actively than my own sluggish limbs. Then before I could figure out what that something even was, a woman appeared in my vision very, mere centimeters from my face. I locked onto her, and I'd practically drank in her features like a man dying of thirst would a glass of ice water in the Sahara.

She seemed so gigantic, leaning down to look at me so intently. She had curly red hair stuck on the precipice of being orange that reminded me of so many flames, bright green eyes that almost seemed to glow with darker green depths, freckles surrounding a sharp nose with two wavy stripes over her cheeks. Otherwise, she had features that made me think of someone… northern? Perhaps most notable of all, she had two red-orange cat ears perched atop her head, each straight up and alert.

That last detail was so strange to see on a real person. Furry appendages on anime characters were a dime a dozen, but to see them, so life-like, was surreal. Hell, they weren't just life like, they were alive as I could see some veins in the thin fuzz alongside the way the muscles twitched every time her ears moved.

She gazed into me with an utterly serious expression, like she was memorizing something of incredible importance for the first time. For a second, I wondered if something was wrong with me. Could Mr. Muscles have done something to me? I didn't even know what the state of my body was, so maybe I was horrific, twisted, or just sad? I was hit by the possibility that while the pain was gone, the flames had twisted my skin, and she was just barely keeping herself from horror by professional detachment. Or perhaps—

She broke into a goofy smile and cooed baby talk at me.

My mind skipped a gear. Ground to a halt. Rebooted.

In a crystalline moment, my suspicions clicked into place. The reason I could barely move, hadn't been able to see, the sudden maternal noises aimed at my direction?

I was an infant.

Of course I hadn't been able to see; my eyes barely even worked. And if I was only seeing now, I'd likely been a newborn this whole time. When I was told I'd be reborn, I hadn't considered the full ramifications of the reborn part.

There's no way Mr. Muscles hadn't known of my ignorance, which made me wonder what other fuckery laid in store for me.

This woman, for better or worse, was probably my new mother in life. This was going to be weird. I had no one to compare her to beyond a nice neighbor lady who used to give me root beer candy as a kid, who—

That was odd. What was her name again?

At this point, my new catmom reached down to tickle my nose and my thought process suddenly went ker-plunk as that touch set my senses alight. I burst into the biggest giggle fit of my life.

When I came off from what I can only describe as a feeling of being high in the best of ways, I was somewhere else. I knew this based on the slightly different colored blurs I saw.

I felt oddly full and incredibly sleepy. Gentle rocking motions soothed me and added to the sudden wave of tiredness creeping on me as feelings of warmth and safety flowed through me, of pure comfort. Vaguely, I realized I was held in the crook of my new catmom's arm as she rocked me to sleep. Something struck me as off, but the feeling of her warmth, of hearing her heartbeat, did something to me, made me feel so utterly comfortable that soon my eyes closed. Sleep drew me into its waiting arms once more to a soothing beat.

…

Blacking out became routine for me. This was concerning.

The first time, I came out of it like I was awakening from the best nap ever and contentedly full. While I couldn't see more than ten inches from my face, I could tell it was darker out and it had been some time. Catmom was nowhere to be seen, but she presumably had something else to do with her time. Granted, I had no idea what that might entail, given I knew nothing about this world beyond it had catgirls, but I digress.

I found, with some concentration, I could at least wiggle a bit. My body didn't want to obey me so even that much was a hassle, but it did lead to one revelation: I had a tail.

I think I skipped right past the shocked phase to, "Well, what was I expecting?" I wished to be reincarnated into a world of catgirls. I'd thought I'd just drop in, but I'd trusted a fairy of all things to not pull anything. Given that, being a catboy was probably pretty minor, all things considered. That made me wonder if there were human — or any other races, for that matter — in this world. I supposed I'd find out eventually.

As it was, the tail would take some getting used to, especially as it was so wiggly. I couldn't even see it properly given my inability to move or contort my body, but it seemed to have a mind of its own as it moved chaotically every time I so much as thought in its general direction.

I could have a tail like one of those — erasian? Erian? Something hairless cats which would not be my go-to, but it wasn't like I had a choice in the matter. In the process of furiously wiggling out of a lack of ability to do anything else, I also discovered my new ears. It was a bit freaky feeling my ears move a little when I finally figured out how to focus on them. Learning to move them was strange. I'd heard of people who could move their ears a bit in my previous life, but this was nothing like that. They were already prone to moving without my conscious choice and it kept startling me while I tried to wiggle in a specific way. They were almost essentially another, overly responsive set of limbs.

I was also feeling uncomfortable with my lower body. I wiggled more to try and alleviate it.

My wiggling drew notice, as soon as the cat-lady — no, my catmom, appeared above me. Not being able to see more than ten inches in front of me was weird… and awful. Everything beyond that was a blur, so it was like a giant teleporting before me. Just as before, my eyes seemed to lock onto her of their own accord. Her nose twitched, and she muttered something unintelligible with a grimace. In the next few seconds, I was brought to a nearby surface, and I discovered yet another key downside to being an infant: no bladder control.


I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. I didn't care if this was normal, and—

Wait.

Where the fuck was my penis?

…

One existential crisis later that barely subsumed the roaring embarrassment of the second most mortifying incident in my life (first being the time I accidentally played porn on a laptop in class), and I was certain I'd run into Mr. Muscles' second round of fuckery. I'd expected my reincarnation to be, well, "Here you are in a new world, good luck!" Maybe if I was lucky, I'd start in some nice field somewhere with some unknown power to help me adjust to a new world. That clearly wasn't the case.

I digress and am procrastinating yet again. Right, the point: I was not a catboy.

I was a catgirl; a baby catgirl.

This was my fate with good karma. Well, borderline good which didn't account for much. Although now I wondered how much worse I'd be off if I'd had less, if it even mattered, or if Mr. Muscles just liked fucking with people.

I would have tried to compartmentalize it, move on, maybe think back on it later during a quiet night, but I was literally a baby that could wiggle a bit. All I could do was think.

It was obvious, in retrospect. He'd even tipped me off, saying, "You really should work on your wording. Maybe next time, eh?"

…

I'd never had a huge amount of pride in being a guy. It was just a part of who I was and something I'd taken as a norm, yet that had clearly changed. Prior, it just was an assumed thing, a part of me just like my hair or eye color. I'd rolled with it all my life. Would I have gender dysphoria now? I suppose I could just be dead and that was the end of it, but man, that would suck.

Still, I had been given another chance to live. I was just going to have to adjust to the changes and hope catgirls grew up fast. I really didn't want to stay a baby for long.

*** *** ***
​

Days passed, or so I assumed.

I wasn't certain as I couldn't exactly see a window from my crib and the only light change was the woman turning the lights on and off. To get some idea of time, I'd tried counting sleep cycles, but that had quickly failed. I'd only gotten as high as nine before I lost count.

Two obstacles factored into my failure to perform basic grade school mathematics. Firstly, I got tired very easily. This was worse than it sounded. In my previous life at university, late night gaming and cramming went hand in hand to maintain some semblance of sanity and pass courses, respectively. Yet it was worse here. At some point exhaustion from laying down all day would get to me, and I'd fall asleep nigh instantly, far easier than I can ever remember in my old life. I could only assume it was biologically enforced nap time. Regardless, it made keeping count a pain.

Second, and a cause of greater concern, I kept blacking out. I didn't know why, but there were periods when I'd be lucid one moment and suddenly had been moved, lights changed, or other gaps in my memory appeared. I didn't know why, but the end result was that time became nearly meaningless.

Consequently, I was doomed to never count to ten.

I heard a distant door open with a heavy clang. My ears twitched at the noise out of pure reflex. I certainly couldn't consciously manage that yet. I focused on that feeling and tried to replicate it. It took several tries as my ears didn't want to listen, but I eventually managed a little ear wiggle. I'd had them perk up before, but the muscles were unfamiliar, and I decided to take the win where I could.

Footsteps echoed into the room, something heavy was set down, and a familiar face popped into place above me once more. Her ears perked as she looked down at me with a little smile, and she reached down to pat my cheek. The warmth of her hand was almost shocking to the touch. I jolted. This amused her.

She then flicked her hair and said something pretty-sounding. It was unfortunate it might as well have been gibberish to me.

I knew English, Spanish, and a bit of Japanese from my weeb days trying and failing to learn it through online tutorials. None of that knowledge helped me as I watched her form words. It sounded simple, but without a basis I didn't know what it all could possibly mean. For all I knew she was informing me of her family's greatest legacy but all it amounted to be a flapping of her lips and sounds. They were nice sounds, at least.

All of this would have been solved with a universal translator, but that was yet another thing Mr. Muscles had neglected to include in my reincarnation package.

Patting my ear which made my tail twitch excitedly, at which point the stimulation and pure feeling exploded and—

The room was dark again. My thoughts flowed like molasses, and it took a while to even realize I was awake and not dreaming. Eventually, I was able to think well enough to realize I'd blacked out again. This time, I suspected her touch had done it. I'd been fine as she talked, but the moment I felt her warmth my mind nearly blanked. It was nice to note, but it didn't exactly tell me much.

The only thing from the encounter I could take was that I really needed a name for this woman who was probably my mom in this world rather than alternate calling her lady, cat lady, woman, and catmom. I settled on Catmom.

There was a curious gap in my interactions with her. This was definitely due to the blackouts, but so far, I only really could remember her looking down at me. Everything else was a blur or non-existent.

There was a lot I didn't know. I didn't know where I was, what society I was part of, or even who my family was in this world. Catmom was there, but I'd yet seen anyone else at all. Where was my father? Did I have a sister? Grandparents? What did my mom even do on a day-to-day basis? For all I knew she was a pop idol. Or she baked bread. Or fought secret agents in clandestine tournaments.

I couldn't know. I didn't even know if the skies would be familiar when I finally saw them again. I hoped they were still blue.

Sometime later, Catmom popped up again and spoke. At least, I thought it was speech, not baby talk, because there was more order to her words, but meaning was lost on me. I again wished Mr. Muscles had given me a universal translator, or Hell, I'd settle for a Babel fish slithering in my ear at this point.

She spoke at length, and I didn't catch a word. I wondered what made her talk to an infant who couldn't do more than stare at her, but she found something worthwhile in talking to me. Her tone was almost sad, but as she neared the end of her "conversation", her words lifted with a soft smile, and she brought her face in closer.

A string of familiarity hit me as she uttered something. I didn't quite catch it, but it had an "M" sound. She touched her chest over her heart and then moved softly pet my ears. Excitement and warmth bubbled up in me like a wave of sunshine and—

The room was dark again. I really wished I would stop blacking out. At least I felt well rested now. But, thinking about the interaction, I realized she was repeating a word, and it meant something to her; something warm.

This pattern repeated, over and over. Catmom would be out doing whatever she did during the day, then back, feed and care for me, and occasionally say words to me before she would do something and my brain scrambled. I still didn't know anything she said as while the rhythm was becoming familiar, the actual words were unknown.

She did had a nice voice, though. So that was something

There was one word, however. It sounded like "matan", but I think I was missing a syllable in there. She kept repeating it as she stood over my cradle, looking down at me fondly. It could be my name, but I doubted it. She'd made no gestures to me when saying it, and that conclusion felt right. I figured there was a 50/50 chance I was wrong, but I had to start somewhere.

The door opened. My ears twitched and vaguely perked while the rest of me sat like a potato and barely reacted. I was frustrated, but pushed that aside as Catmom made her appearance above my cradle

She spoke. Her tone sounded positive at first, but I picked up something else in there, a certain falseness to her tone. It reminded me of the way my father would get at the end of the month when money was running out or when he spoke of my old life's mother.

Would a normal baby even pick up on that? She flicked her hair and drew some up behind her ear that would otherwise hang her face. I focused. I knew this pattern and tried to pick out the word she kept repeating.

"—ach...is mise do mháthair," she finished, pressing her hand to her heart once more.

It clicked and I felt like a complete and total dumbass the whole time. It wasn't referring to me. It was her. It was always her.

"Máthair".

Mom.

Chapter Two: Author's Note:

Isekais often go way too smoothly. Now, transmigration/portal isekais are one thing—you at least show up in a new world capable of walking around, but I take further issue with the isekais who go the reincarnation route. Most of these stories intentionally skip over or downplay details of what life is actually like for someone with a loosely conscious, adult brain who cannot move, talk, or even control their bowels. One of the worst offenders was an isekai who had the MC become aware as a fetus months before birth. I don't know about anyone else, but the idea of becoming conscious as an infant with so little ability to do anything sounds torturous to the point of sanity breaking.

Regarding the bits of non-English thrown in this chapter, I'm quite aware that they match up with another real world language. I did this as I am not even going to try to pretend to be a linguist to invent my own language. I find the act and complications resulting from assorted languages interesting, but I will not be going so far as to make my own original languages as, sadly, I am not quite Tolkien.

That said, if anyone is worried that they will become an omnipresent feature, then I will state no. I find languages fascinating, but I also know including lengthy bits of text in another language even with a translation can prove distracting, at least when you're a novice at integrating such things into a story such as myself.. I intend to primarily utilize it when the MC has no idea what is being said or actively figuring things out, but if they know what is being said, then text will be understandable to the reader, too.

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[The Radiance's Follower]

Little bro became a cat girl. He's about to become someone's else waifu in the future. Neat. I like TSF story so I will def be following this one.

 

[HiddenMaster]

Little bro became a cat girl. He's about to become someone's else waifu in the future. Neat. I like TSF story so I will def be following this one.

Click to shrink...

Such is the fate of idiots who choose catgirls when talking with a fairy, even a nicer one.

 

[chiefnewo]

Interesting so far. I wonder if there are any other species or genders in this world or if it really is just catgirls only.

And one reason isekai out 6 self insert stories skip over the baby bit is it's hard to make it interesting and original. Plus babies are kind of boring and can't do anything active to influence the story, as well as potentially leading to the trap of "the story is 200kb words but the plot hasn't started yet".

 

[HiddenMaster]

Interesting so far. I wonder if there are any other species or genders in this world or if it really is just catgirls only.

And one reason isekai out 6 self insert stories skip over the baby bit is it's hard to make it interesting and original. Plus babies are kind of boring and can't do anything active to influence the story, as well as potentially leading to the trap of "the story is 200kb words but the plot hasn't started yet".

Click to shrink...

Oh, I am quite aware of that. In fact, it's one reason I wanted to explore this story because I figured, "Hmm, wonder if I can make this work?"

But what I took umbrage with is not the ones who skip over it. That's fine, hell, that's the smart thing to do in a story like this. My issue is with stories that decide "yeah this person is gonna be totally fine after being stuck as an infant to toddler to child for years with no notable changes in mind or personality". So I'm a Spider, So What? had that with a character who became aware in an egg and...yeah, that bothered me.

 

[chiefnewo]

My issue is with stories that decide "yeah this person is gonna be totally fine after being stuck as an infant to toddler to child for years with no notable changes in mind or personality". So I'm a Spider, So What? had that with a character who became aware in an egg and...yeah, that bothered me.

Click to shrink...

It's a difficult line to walk between your character being so traumatised they never do anything and just shrugging it off within a few seconds. I'll be watching to see how you pull it off.

 

[HiddenMaster]

I made some vaguely contented noises to signal I was full. Mom perked up immediately. I imagined her ears pointed straight up the second I made a noise, but I couldn't really tell given where I was and my poor eyesight on top of that. Holding me in one arm, she adjusted her blue top back into place, patted my back until I burped, and set me down in my crib.

I stared at the ceiling, lamenting my inability to crawl in a hole and die. I didn't care what anyone else said, breastfeeding was mortifying. Then again, that summarized the entire reincarnation experience so far

I'm sure my new biological mother in this world did her best, but that still didn't take away from the fact that I was stuck in a crib 95% of the time. I don't think I'd even left this room once in the days since I'd first opened my eyes. There wasn't much to look at; it was a bedroom of some sort. That's it. There was not much else I could actually confirm as I couldn't move, and my eyesight sucked.

The boredom was excruciating.

Feeding times and the whole process of being a baby would be so much worse if it wasn't for my other discovery.

My baby brain couldn't handle me.

Conscious, sane thoughts came and went. Sometimes, particularly in calm moments, I was able to think almost normally. This was more torturous than anything else, given I couldn't speak and couldn't move, but it was something. In other moments when I was over-stimulated — moved too fast, having my ears pet, or even if I got too hungry or sleepy — it felt like my baby brain shut down and I entered autopilot mode.

Autopilot mode, what I'd originally thought were blackouts, was basically normal baby activity but I couldn't think at all. At least, I assume this was normal baby activity given I hadn't somehow starved before I'd regained self-awareness given there was a lengthy period where I can't recall eating anything. This instinct had probably saved me as it ensured I could eat and not want to die, but it didn't make this process any less humiliating and I really wanted to be able to move and eat solid food again.

I couldn't tell how long I'd been aware. I don't remember being born, which was a small grace. While the lighting did change, the autopilot mode meant I couldn't keep track of things with any regularity. It felt like my entire life boiled down to just eating, sleeping, wiggling in vain, and baby noises. I frankly wasn't sure given the blackouts where I was in baby autopilot mode.

Still, things definitely improved as time passed.

For instance, I could lift my head now. Previously, my world was four walls of a crib and a gray ceiling. But now, I could lift my head enough to see the object Mom placed before me.

It was a small, dull-green ball. Above, a blurry Mom stood nearby. I think she was watching me.

The last time I played with a ball had been as a middle schooler. I'd tried to throw a basketball into a hoop and managed to slam it into a guy's head whose personality was best described as 'willing to hold a grudge with a vindictive streak a mile wide'. There's a reason I tried not to think of middle school.

This was a child's toy. It should not interest me.

The counter argument was that I had been in here for God knows how long and my entertainment was sleeping and staring at the blurry ceiling. Any stimulation at all was a godsend.

Every day, outside feeding times or napping times, she had placed the ball in my crib. I hadn't been able to do anything but note its presence there, but things had changed. I certainly felt more energetic.

I placed my arms on my sides and pushed. Nothing happened.

I frowned. I pushed harder. Nothing happened.

Finally, I pushed with all my might. I overdid it and rolled over and nowhere near the ball. I heard a giggle.

I'm sure it was very amusing to her, but this was serious! I needed to move! The sooner I could move, the sooner I could leave this tiny crib! There was a world outside this room that I wanted to see! Ideally, it would be a world that involved solid food. I would settle for that much.

I repeated this process three times, to no notable success.

Eventually, I heard cat-mom leave to do… whatever it was she did during the day when not caring for me. I still couldn't see well enough to even note details on the walls of my crib, nevertheless the ceiling, but I did hear one. The door she went through? Whatever it was, it was heavy. She didn't have difficulty with it, but damn if it didn't rattle the floor when she opened and closed it.

I stared above at the blurry color that was the ceiling.

I had hoped by now something would have shifted or changed. Maybe I'd wake up a foot taller or discover some form of magic I could spend all my time experimenting with, or something. I'd hoped I'd find something innate about myself to compensate for being a baby and get me out of this faster. Maybe this was all a joke and I'd be able to walk on my own as an adult tomorrow.

That's how the stories went, at least. Main character ends up in another world, immediately goes on an adventure.

They typically didn't shit themselves involuntarily.

Then again, most could at least walk. I couldn't. My most active and responsive limb was, weirdly enough, my tail, and even that was just wiggly.

I think I needed to face a fact. I was going to have to be patient. Just thinking the word left a bad taste in my mouth. I had no idea how fast catgirls grew (or would it be catfolk?), but I seemed human enough to understand this process would take a while. Even developing twice as fast would mean I'd be stuck like this far longer than I'd like, but I didn't really have a choice at this point.

I was just going to have to wait it out and try not to go insane.

It couldn't be that hard, could it?

*** *** ***
​

​

I wonder if my tail will ever be long enough to touch my ears…

*** *** ***
​

​

10,233 bottles of milk on the wall…

*** *** ***
​

​

This is the song that never ends…Oh god that's the 5,788th verse…

*** *** ***
​

​

At some point, I think my brain tried to eat itself.

It was like the feeling of waking up in the middle of the night, wanting to sleep, knowing you needed to sleep for an important exam that day, but being completely incapable of getting back to sleep for hours. The difference was that this feeling stayed near-constantly in my waking hours because I could not do any of my coping mechanisms.

I couldn't read, I couldn't play games, I couldn't take a walk, I couldn't do more than wiggle. I found my tail was, surprisingly, strong enough to help me flip over, but that was it. I was still stuck as a baby and utterly dependent on a lady I was pretty sure was my mom but for all I knew was my sister, a wet nurse, or a glorified babysitter. It wasn't like I could even look at myself to see if we shared the same features.

I hated this. I hated this so much.

It was nighttime judging by the lack of light. I still couldn't make out details unless they were a few inches in front of me. I'd been fed, cleaned, and rocked. But I couldn't go toward the only respite from this state for reasons, because my insomnia followed me into this life. Or maybe it was normal for babies to just wake up randomly. Probably the latter.

I had to move.

I kicked, wiggled, daresay even thrashing, to get blankets off me.

I knew I wouldn't be able to crawl, let alone stand. But I needed to sit up. Just this one thing, and I could reclaim part of what I'd lost. It wouldn't be much, but at least I would take the first metaphorical step.

My arms were weak. They didn't respond well to my commands. I still managed to put them down on the soft sheets of my crib, put my towel to my side, and tried to push.

It said something about my state that it took minutes of trying to accomplish anything, but I did have a goal. I reached the wall of the crib which was, well, wood with a coat of white paint. This close I could see was somewhat worn away and more discolored than I'd thought.

Now, I had to face the hard part.

My arms and legs were basically jelly, but my tail had strength that continued to surprise me. I was curious what it'd be like when I was older, but as it was, my tail was the most developed part of me. Not that it said much, given I couldn't weigh more than ten or twelve pounds.

Using what little strength my arms had for stability, I pushed up, scooting more to try and lean against the crib's wall.

I was trying something I doubted any other infant my age would ever try. This was not easy. In fact, my arms already felt exhausted, and my tail wasn't much better. I almost wanted to cry.

I wasn't the picture of fitness before, but at least I wasn't this. In my old life could run, I could move, I could lift, I had something to be proud of. Here, I couldn't do any of that. At best, I was milk consuming void that just laid there most days, like most babies my presumed age. I'm sure I would eventually grow more, be able to think for longer periods, even stand, run, climb, do everything I could before and move.

But that was cold comfort in the now. Now I was still stuck here, unable to communicate, move, or even ask who I was.

I wanted to move.

My tail muscles burned as I pushed, and pushed, slowly raising myself. Then something flipped a metaphorical break as muscles gave out. Pain shot down my tail. Without ceremony I fell over. I was on the soft bedding of my crib, so it absorbed all the impact. I still felt like I'd face planted.

That. That was my best effort to sit. Ten minutes of effort and now my tail hurts and I feel exhausted.

I panted for time as I recovered, but soon felt the chill of the room seeping in. It likely wasn't that cold, but it was enough to make me shiver. I'd been under blankets, some sort of comfort. Like Hell I could get back under those in this state.

I stared at the dark ceiling and felt this stupid baby body begin to well up with tears. The chill felt awful, and being awake so long without someone nearby was doing something to me, like a growing sense of urgency meets anxiety that said, why are you alone, you shouldn't be alone, were you abandoned, please don't leave me alone.

I didn't let myself cry even as the urge warbled up and I felt my own conscious control fraying on the edge of another blackout.

This was my next life. My reward. I chose this.

"Ceann beag?" Cat-mom's voice shot out into the room, piercing even the general haze I heard most things in. She sounded tired but stepped closer. I heard her gasp, followed by an urgent, "Beag!"

In seconds, I was scooped up and held close. I felt her body heat and, even though my own exertion-fueled pain, I couldn't help but note it felt nice. She stared down at me in concern as her own ears stood at attention before slowly folding down. She leaned in, nuzzling me in a way I couldn't help but find myself surprised by.

She didn't put me back in my crib. Instead, she took me to the other side of the bedroom where I think her bed was.

She laid down with me, nearly curling up and hugging me firmly but without crushing me.

She then, with one hand, began to stroke the back of my hair and sing again. "Ná bí buartha, a dhuine bhig…"

This was…nice.

I didn't have a good comparison. In my old life, a maternal influence in my life just hadn't been a thing. My dad did his best, but closeness and comfort weren't in his vocabulary.

Staring up at her, or just her cascade of red hair and her chin as she stared back at me, I found I didn't mind this feeling.

Held in her grasp as she sang an unknown melody, I drifted off to sleep.

*** *** ***
​

Days, weeks, or months passed.

Some part of me wanted to blame my new life on someone. The only woman I'd seen in this world would be an easy scapegoat. This impulsive desire had no logical basis, I knew; she was just helping me. Mr. Muscles was to blame for being reborn as an infant with a conscious, adult mind and all the torturous frustration that entailed. Yet, he wasn't there. Chances were, I would never see him again.

I could see my resentment like a seed. It'd be so disturbingly easy to let it fester deep inside until one day it could bloom in an all-consuming pile of thorn touched tendrils made of pure bitterness and unyielding anger that would sink into every inch of my being, wiggling around and always lurking just beneath my skin.

My old life wasn't great, but it was a life. I'd had loved ones, friends, things I enjoyed that I would never see again. This world would always be a reminder I couldn't go back.

Even at this stage, I could tell resentment could be a fuel, a lasting motivation to finally make things my way. I'd never have to worry about lethargy again if I was too angry at the world to sit still. All it would take to nurture a true drive in this life would be holding onto this resentment until it could bloom.

I sighed. It was soft, so weak and lacking the expansive volume I was used to, but it was time to admit this was my new normal.

I held the resentment a moment longer, staring down the long path at its end, before I smothered it in its cradle.

Footsteps zeroed in on me. A pretty, freckle spotted spotted face looked down at me with a quizzical tilt of the head and curly hair framing a face. Her lips were pursed.

I focused. I pursed my lips. My tongue was clumsy, and didn't want to cooperate, but I kept trying until I wrangled it in.

I spoke my first word in a new world. The word was foreign, not like anything I'd said in my old world, but I'd heard it often enough since I awakened. More importantly, it was mine.

"Mama."

Chapter Three: Author's Note

I wouldn't go as far as to say I've had nightmares about this scenario, but contemplating rebirth and experiencing infancy amounts to something no less than utterly torturous in my opinion. Yet again, like many things I take issue with anime dealing with this subject, or just works in general acknowledging it, don't do much or downplay it as 'boring'.

Boring does not begin to describe being an effective coma patient in your own body. Oh sure, there might be some small things you could do, but an infant's body is not meant for an adult's mind, and just being stuck in one place at the whim of someone else, no matter how good intentioned, sounds awful to me.

There's worse fates, to be certain, and you could arguably say a rebirth with mind intact is worth a period of boredom, but it'd still suck.

Until next time.

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[The Radiance's Follower]

Baby days are the worst. imagine being full conscious as a baby. Literal torture. When the time skip hits. Will we go straight to teen or stay in the young range ?

 

[HiddenMaster]

Baby days are the worst. imagine being full conscious as a baby. Literal torture. When the time skip hits. Will we go straight to teen or stay in the young range ?

Click to shrink...

Very mild spoilers, but we are exiting baby age with this chapter's conclusion. I really don't think I could make being a baby interesting in anything but "read as the character progressively loses their mind and starts hallucinating" sense.

 

[HiddenMaster]

I pushed the stool into the dusty storeroom. It was a bit difficult as I was still so dang small and this stool was clearly designed for an adult, but it was infinitely more manageable than it had been when I first woke up in this world. I continued huffing, puffing, and pushing until I reached the otherwise dusty, empty room's sole point of interest: the full-body mirror.

It was the only reflective surface worth the name I'd found in the entire sea fort that was my new home, and it was obvious why. My mom had clearly scavenged it from somewhere (and it was still strange to think of her as Mom, but I found myself liking thinking of her that way as time went on). Half of the mirror was missing, and the rest cracked from some unknown impact. The metal frame was blackened on one side and flaking with rust on the other.

Tail twitching, I felt an urge to just jump up in one big hop, but I restrained myself after bouncing in place. My legs still weren't quite strong enough to accomplish that much, even though this new body seemed to always want to jump and pounce around. Instead, I climbed up onto the stool. It was a bit awkward given its size, but I managed. I glanced into the mirror and pulled out a piece of pointed charcoal and a notebook Mom had given me.

For a few moments, I let my hand dance over my old and faded notebook with experimental lines to capture the figure in the mirror, but the desire, the motivation I'd had when I first started this whole process eventually faded. I let the notebook drop onto the floor. For the first time, I let myself well and truly look.

A young girl looked back at me.

She smiled when I smiled, frowned when I frowned, and made stupid faces when I made stupid faces. It was surreal.

In what I was rapidly beginning to refer to as my first life now that I was fairly certain I wasn't in a coma dream; I'd been a guy. I wouldn't say I was exceptional. I had short, black hair because I couldn't make any style but "straight hair" work to save my life. I'd been average in height and the runt of the pack as far as presence in my family went. However, I'd argue with anyone that I had the prettiest damn blue eyes of anyone I'd ever met, and I wouldn't back down. According to my father in life, they were a gift from the human mother I never met.

The young girl across from me was different. Besides the obvious age difference, she had curly red hair and pale skin. Her cheeks looked pinchable, but there were hints of strong cheekbones even now. She already had a few freckles here and there. Her eyes were piercing green, just like her mom's. They were nearly identical, in fact. Slowly, my gaze trailed up.

Two fuzzy, rounded ears perched atop her head and were capped by white, fuzzy tips. They weren't quite as pointy as Mom's, but that was probably an age thing she would grow into. If I focused, I could make them move a bit. A long, red tail with occasional black and white speckles moved behind the girl. It was far more responsive and prone to twitching according to mood and was honestly a bit of a hassle sometimes.

She wore dull blue trousers and a blue long-sleeved shirt with a green overshirt, more than a bit oversized for her but with rough stitching to modify them. Around her neck was a simple twine seashell necklace.

She waved. Even her hand was a little fuzzy and odd, proportioned just slightly different from a human hand. If Mom was any indication, her claws would become more pronounced with time, but for now they were smol and kinda stubby like a human child's with just a bit more point to them.

She sat on the stool and lifted a foot up. Her feet were bare and just slightly different from a human foot. More akin to a melding of a paw and a foot that seamlessly blended into a human calf. She had toe beans, too. I'd checked.

Finally, she smiled. It was a nice smile, but one that already displayed a slight abnormality in how her teeth were just slightly more pointed than I'd expect of a human child.

All in all, she looked like a cute kid I'd expect to see in an anime, particularly given the adorable ears and tail. I moved the tail, its length easily flexible enough to reach around so I could hold it. It was soft.

The girl in the mirror wasn't some secondary character in one of my shows back on Earth.

She was me.

It was strange, it was weird, and a thousand other words that barely scraped describing what it was like seeing a face that both was and wasn't mine, and—

"Gwen! Where are you? It's time for breakfast."

I was out of time, as it turns out.

"I'm coming, Mama!" I shouted. I leaped off the stool and only stumbled slightly on the landing, my tail shooting out to stabilize me as I wobbled. I regained my balance and ran through a crack in the doorway.

Home was, in a word, anachronistic.

A first glance at the halls and rooms would indicate an older structure from the stonework alone. Roughhewn sandstone bricks formed walls in a way that only older architecture made using local resources appeared, barring the super-rich with a desire to be artsy. The slight arch of the tunnel alongside tattered but intact grayish blue cloth banners depicting a stylized maiden with a sword riding a tiger along the walls only complimented the feeling of age. Scattered remains of paint along the wall indicated some lively artwork of daily activities such as hunting or fishing at one point, but much had deteriorated, leaving bare stone behind. The make of the bricks felt as if they'd fit in anywhere from my old world's bronze age to the age of exploration.

Between the dust, sandstone, and dim light, I could easily picture ancient scribes making their way down this hall, fretting over tributary transcripts on clay tablets. Yet, the illusion was broken by the dim blue glow of light strips stretching along the ceiling.

The dim light was amazingly easy to see in, to the point I was certain I saw better in low light than I did as a human. It exposed a combination of rusted and intact pipework stretching along the walls and ceiling. Scattered here and there along the floor were leftover pieces of equipment ranging from hand tools like a hammer or wrench to pumps to tools I had no name for but had a lot of dials and glass tubes on them. Some of these tools were left for who knows how long to the point they were more rust than machine while others looked new, clearly brought in and stored in this hall before being forgotten about. Old and new, scattered intermittently to the point I still had trouble figuring out what was here before my time and what had been brought in far more recently.

This was not quite like the standard isekai experience the anime community had prepared me for. Anachronism in those stories was nothing new, but near modern lighting and machinery in a roughhewn bastion-like sea fort that'd fit into a Renaissance setting just didn't quite mesh. I felt as if I was on an archeological site with some amenities and had skipped over the obligatory peaceful country village to start life in.

Then again, I'd expected to just show up with my penis and that certainly hadn't happened, so I probably shouldn't put much in my past expectations for the typical isekai experience. In some ways, I felt I should have had more reaction to that fact. There…there was a lot to unpack in that statement alone, but one reason I found my reaction to my rebirth induced sex change muted was that I could at least move again. Being a baby might be fine when your cognitive thought process amounts to "Gah?" but it was enormously less so when you could question existentialism.

Honestly, I would be happy just finding my new body feel natural. Body dysphoria would not have been fun, at all.

Having more energy than I felt like I'd ever had in my previous life helped too, of course.

Passing a few more dusty rooms we didn't use, I neared our living quarters, or our "apartment", as I kept thinking of it. It was a separated area of the fort converted from the rest of the into something livable. It even had colorful sheets on the walls.

I did not skip my way back into the apartment to greet my mom. That would be undignified and way too little girly. I certainly didn't occasionally feel a need to hop over cracks in the sandstone floor, either. Instead, I maintained a dignified jog through the tunnels, and if I had a slight rhythm to it that was my business alone.

"Gwen, girl, there you are — sweet spirits, what have you got all over you?" Mom said to me, turning from a bubbling pot in the kitchen's portable stove with a swish of her ragged apron to scrutinize me with a disappointed air.

I tiled my head. I didn't think I was that dirty. I tried to say something along the lines of, "What are you talking about, mother? I am perfectly fine." Unfortunately, my brain decided to fuck it up as I responded in both English and my mother's language, so it came off sounding like, "Whapesd etq adta? Muii!"

We both froze. My cheeks burned while she looked worried. In a smooth movement, she was across the room and kneeling to my level in an instant, perky ears atop her head up and listening as she touched my forehead. "Gwen? Are you okay? How are you feeling?"

I nodded. I clicked my tongue and with some deliberation I wet my lips. I very, very carefully moved my mouth and tongue through words foreign to my old life. Finally, I told her. "I'm okay."

She studied me intensely for a moment before nodding, patting me on the head and giving my ears a light scritch before she turned and turned back to the stove. "Take a seat, soup's almost done."

I hopped onto my chair and held in a sigh. I had to get better at language.

Sometimes, in moments like this, I was still just a touch bitter about how I hadn't received a universal translator with my reincarnation. I was never great with languages in the life before, and I'd always envied all the protagonists in fiction who never had to deal with language difficulties. They usually had some form of translator, magical or scientific, fixing the actual problems of learning a language. Boom, no worries, everyone understands each other, and life can move on.

Now, that jealousy burned. I didn't get one with my rebirth. It'd have been nice and would've made learning my mother's language far easier if not automatic, but evidently, I didn't get nice things. Instead, I'd started like any child knowing jack and all. My gift was doing things the hard way.

Over hard-won lessons in language from baby talk to basic grammar from my mom, I'd learned what I think was called teanga, although whether that was the term for language in general or just my mother's tongue, I didn't know. I was still learning it, but I could actually talk with my mom most days. Unfortunately, my knowledge of the scattered languages I'd learned in my old life and what I'd learned in this world sometimes collided and resulted in whatever the Hell I'd just said.

I hoped I didn't have brain damage.

I was distracted from the worrying state of my brain when Mom placed a matching tin plate and bowl before me before taking her own place with a bowl. The tin plate held a small pile of rice porridge. At least, it looked like rice, but if the rice was faintly blue colored. It was typical fare Mom usually served some with a meal with a light sprinkling of salt and increasingly rare spices. Unlike rice back in my world, this rice always tasted faintly sweet even with no sugar added, but I'd grown used to it and found it satisfying, if a bit bland on its own, sweet or not.

Unfortunately, the other bowl had my stomach threatening revolution.

Green goop greeted me. It faintly steamed so I knew it was warm which, frankly, didn't help. I poked at it with a spoon. The goop parted before the spoon, glistening as I stirred it sunk in. It was thick like syrup, only a bit of green broth pooling at the top in another layer. The steam wafted upward, delivering its aroma in a pungent wave.

It made me think faintly of the sea, but if the sea hated me.

In my old life, I'd had a fondness for seafood. Odd, given I was a landbound country boy back then, but maybe that made my fondness for the aquatic side of things make an ironic sort of sense. Regardless, I'd sought out such seafood where I could which led me to delightful discoveries like the humble seaweed roll. This wasn't that, not even close, but even shoving those in a pot and boiling the living Hell out of them shouldn't produce green snot this horrendous.

"Seaweed soup, Gwen. It's good for you," Mom said, taking a big bite from her own soup. She didn't so much chew as gulp it down in one smooth motion. I'm not sure she even tasted it.

I still wasn't sure she wasn't lying about this. Oh, I'm sure it had nutritional value, but…
I knew the seaweed harvested for this. It was all we'd been able to harvest a few days ago.

Smellyweed.

It was edible in the same sense that a bag of just slightly off raw onions were.

I stared at my spoonful of green slime and tendrils. It was shaking in my hand. Mom's eyes zeroed in atop my head and I realized my ears had folded without me telling them to again. "Do I need to hand feed you, Gwenneth?" Mom asked prettily. Mom saying my full name nearly prompted me to hyperventilate.

The rapid headshakes I sent her way were a touch exaggerated, but only just. I'd learned being a picky eater in this life was ill advised. Still…

I brought up the spoon of green hate. I re-evaluated my life decisions.

"Is there anything else?" I asked, doing my best to postpone the inevitable. This wasn't even the first time she'd made "seaweed" soup. It never got better. "Can I just eat rice?"

Mom sighed and set her spoon down. "We'll get something better when we forage later. Just eat, you need the nutrition," she said, before downing what was left of her bowl in one go. She stared at me expectantly.

"Do I have to?" I asked. I knew I was whining. My traitorous ears folded.

Mom's eyes narrowed. "Gwen, just eat. It's what we have for now."

I gulped. Part of me noted the total Mom tone and its authority made me shove the spoon in my mouth. I successfully avoided tasting for the first few seconds. I was even hopeful that today's soup was miraculously okay. Unfortunately, five seconds later I knew life was cursed.

The bitter, sulfurous taste did not bother me nearly as much as how it felt like the seaweed slithered down my throat. Somehow, being warm did not help. If anything, warmth made it worse.

Mom's laughter didn't help. "It's easier if you eat quickly. Less time to taste it."

I raised another spoon dubiously. I tried her suggestion. She was right. It didn't help much.

Sometime later, I conquered the bowl of green hate and moved onto my light blue rice porridge. It was faintly sweet and a gift of the gods.

"Don't be dramatic," Mom patted my shoulder as I dug in.

"I'm not," I protested, but it was weak. I hid my indignation behind more porridge which fortunately was wiping away the lingering taste of the goopy nightmare I'd eaten.

Mom smiled. She held a rag to wipe my face but paused. After a moment, she set it aside with an odd look. My eyes trailed over her own long finished bowl of horror and noticed something amiss. "Aren't you going to have any rice?" I asked. It was a mainstay. Since I could eat solids, we had some form of blue rice.

Mom shook her head. "I'm not that hungry today," she said, gathering our plate and bowls up to put in the kitchen sink. "Go get dressed in your wading clothes. I think today we're going to the northern beach. We need something special."

I blinked at the sudden topic change. "What's so special about today, Mama?"

"Silly girl, that's the surprise." She had the audacity to boop my nose.

I sniffed, but I let her have her secrets. Her tail twitching as I walked back to the bedroom to get dressed was all I needed to spot to know she knew I wasn't buying her silliness.

Chapter Four: Author's Note

Fun fact: of a chapter was started in November 2022 and now, posting it here, I find myself having to divide the chapter up. I got the first scene with the mirror written in a couple days and then progress slowed to a sentence a day until mid-march 2023.

A lot of the hold up comes down to a major alteration in the backstory for Gwen's mom in this world and the setting as a whole that, in retrospect, was needed, but definitely turned the pace to a crawl while I was already distracted and down with other things in life.

Still, most of the issue comes back to depression. I wouldn't recommend it to anyone.

Also and in cheerier news, here is some art I had commissioned of Gwen and her mother from the wonderful YoruAlice. Check her art out, btw, she's awesome and takes commissions. :3

I am really happy with how all of these turned out, and again, can't recommend YoruAlice enough. Check out her vgen when you have a chance.

Until next time.

...

WAIT

Can't forget my author plug.

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Support me on Patreon, Ko Fi, or Subscribe Star. Check them out for advance chapters, too. Or check out my website for links to my other author accounts, contact, socials, etc.

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[CrazyDarkstar23]

I'm guessing times be tough and the mom gave her portion to the mc. I wonder if it's the MCs birthday.

 

[The Radiance's Follower]

I tiled my head. I didn't think I was that dirty. I tried to say something along the lines of, "What are you talking about, mother? I am perfectly fine." Unfortunately, my brain decided to fuck it up as I responded in both English and my mother's language, so it came off sounding like, "Whapesd etq adta? Muii!"

Click to shrink...

As someone who grew up bi-langual. mixing up languages do happen. But it's more like saying words from each language in a single sentence.

Those tails looks like fox girls at a glance rather than catgirls. But cats with fluffy tails do exists.

Is my boy about to get his special powers ?

 

[HiddenMaster]

As someone who grew up bi-langual. mixing up languages do happen. But it's more like saying words from each language in a single sentence.

Those tails looks like fox girls at a glance rather than catgirls. But cats with fluffy tails do exists.

Is my boy about to get his special powers ?

Click to shrink...

Tbh, I had considered that, then I also decided it'd be funnier this way. That and being downloaded/reincarnated into baby body and growing up, who knows what sorta of wacky things happened up in the brain meat? :3

 

[HiddenMaster]

The stupidest conversation of both my lives happened because of extreme boredom colliding with drugs.

I was sixteen, and I stayed with my cousin Jerry at his mom's for a month over the scorching summer. In theory, it was family bonding time out in the countryside, but in practice, I strongly suspected my father wanted me out of the house for a month or so given I was at the peak of my sarcastic, angsty little shit phase with any and all authority figures.

To Dad's credit, he waited for me to reach the front door and be invited in before he bolted in his old four-wheel beater. My first view of the house was a claustrophobic living room stuffed with ancient peeling white painted furniture covered in dusty sheets while my cousin stood awkwardly holding the door open. My aunt laid snoring on the couch with a brandy bottle cuddled like a teddy bear. It was 11:00 a.m.

This set the tone for my entire visit. We exhausted entertainment options within a day, and by day two it was already doing a fine mimicry of the climate of Hell outside, so going outside was a no go.

There were three things to do at my cousin's. We could play games on his last generation console, of which he only had shooters (and not many of them) while I preferred platformers. We could watch mind numbing cable sitcoms and soap operas. Alternatively, we could engross ourselves with aging beige paint on the walls.

There was no internet, aside from a sketchy signal on my phone that came and went. There were endless corn fields surrounding the one-acre property, while the property itself amounted to a house , fence, and field of dead yellow grass. The most interesting landmarks were a dead pear tree and desiccated blackberry bushes.

By the seventh day, my mind started to unravel into a gray cloud. I had planted my butt in a den's uncomfortable floral couch made sometime in the 1970's and decided to watch a marathon of SpongeBob. There was nothing else.

My cousin joined me, at some point. I do not know when the joint came out, nor if I even took a hit or if it was all Jerry and I got a second hand high.

"What would you do if… like, you entered a new world? Portal opened up, right now, and spat you out," Jerry asked.

"Depends," I said. "Am I just dumped there, or do I find a portal I can use to go back and forth?"

Jerry took a solid minute to respond. Time had slowed out in the countryside miles away from any mental stimulation. What felt like days would pass in minutes while minutes ate hours.

I think it affected him; that, or the weed was really saturating his brain. Finally, he said, "Both?"

I snorted. "Probably die of cholera. In the second option, I'd try to use it for fun and profit. Gold coins from a fantasy world sold at a pawn shop would be a way to live."

Jerry mulled that over and nodded, shaking his long, dandruff covered hair back and forth. "Harsh. What if you had powers?" Jerry blew smoke my way and I don't recall blinking.

That had stumped me, if only for a moment. "If I have special powers, someone upstairs probably likes me? That means the whole hero gig is a thing. Hell, who knows, maybe I'd even find an obligatory waifu with big—"

"I'd fuck Sandy," Jerry said.

"—what?"

"The squirrel girl. I'd fuck Sandy if I had powers."

That was my first encounter with a furry.

Looking back on it, I do not think I could have predicted my rebirth as a catgirl living out of an old sea fort with my new world's mom; it wouldn't have been anywhere on my top twenty expectations. Or top two hundred, for that matter.

It didn't take long to reach the bedroom. It wasn't as if our dwelling was terribly large. The old fort's citadel went surprisingly deep, admittedly but we didn't use the lower tunnels as they'd long since flooded, so we stayed close to the dry surface near the highly reinforced walls. We used maybe twenty percent of the complex that used to be living quarters.

Mom kept the bedroom tidy, just short of being spartan by a few piles of books and technical manuals lying around the cots we used. The sole exception to this clutter were my drawings.

I'd tried flubbing my drawing at first to be more childlike, but that had proven exhausting, and I'd soon reverted to more detailed charcoal sketches that had perplexed Mom at first but now accepted with nary a questioning glance. Most were things I'd been able to observe on the island: the sea, a very round seagull or a roundgull, if you will, an angry crab that fought me like its life depended on it, a flower with purple petals I hadn't been able to capture quite right. Most continued in that vein of just things, but there are a few more creative like a moonless sky above a dead forest (sketch, at least) or a ship beached beneath a full moon.

I say that like they weren't chicken scratches. Mom seemed to like them, at least. Also I haven't seen chicken here.

Lighting was still sparse by the overhead light strips, but a few lanterns were set up. The lanterns might once have been nice, even pretty artisan things with leaflike designs over the metal cases, but half of them were rusted, dented, or had actual holes in them now like they had been dug out of a pile of rubble: they probably were.

However, for all they looked like archeological relics, they were one of the first things I'd seen in this world that suggested the supernatural existed and I didn't have one Hell of an active imagination for a little girl. Rather than some lightbulb, the place with a "bulb" was more like a lens while behind each lens was a single sigil. The lanterns would produce a slow flickering, slightly blue tinted light when a switch was flipped. Weirdly enough, if left on a while and touched, I could feel the lamp cooling off rather than heating up.

I had no idea how they worked beyond "magic". Mom had said a word I still couldn't translate, followed by "outdated piece of junk". Honestly, that wasn't so weird.

In my old world I'd only loosely known the theory and physics behind how computers worked yet was still fully capable of using a computer. Furthermore, the lanterns definitely worked and were made for anyone to use. They even had a compartment to put in a bulky silver colored battery of some type shaped like a wafer.

Rather than a closet, dresser, or wardrobe, there were several dented and dull blue footlockers lined up across the wall with scratch marks on the floor marking where they'd been dragged in. Going through the left-most locker, I was able to pick out my wading and hiking clothes with ease and didn't fuck up the organized way my mom had put things. I did genuinely try to put things back neatly, but I failed. In my defense, I was never that organized in my old life and in this one I was not tall enough to fold most of the oversized clothing very well with my little arms.

My foraging clothes were all old, but durable and practical clothing: tall, button up boots three sizes too big, leathery, faint blue, water resistant pants, and a shirt that may once have been white but was now permanently stained beige. Over this outfit I wore a brown jacket that somewhat reminded me of an aviator jacket if it was comically oversized. All the clothing bore rough stitching and impromptu adjustments to better fit someone my size. Putting on the boots was just a bit odd given my feet weren't quite human anymore, but not that strange, either. It was fortunate neither Mom nor I were fashionistas, or we'd probably have a heart attack from how crude my outfit was.

Not for the first time, I looked at the shoulder of my shirt and noticed the tell-tale indications of a rectangular stitching on the shoulder: all that was left of an original name tag of some sort. I traced it briefly but stiffened when I heard Mom calling for me.

Dressing quickly, I made my way back to the entrance. I say "made" as I would never be elegant in clothing that bunched up and was too big for me even with adjustments, but it sounded better than "waddled on little legs".

I found Mom by the entrance; a heavy, metal banded door. She was wearing her own gray fatigues with a blue jacket. The fatigues were a bit faded with a few threadbare parts but remained sturdy. The jacket was uniform in color and had a line of gold buttons going up the front, although Mom had it unbuttoned at this point.

She smiled and held out her hand. I took it. She was so warm, almost like a furnace was beneath her skin.

We stepped out into the world and into sunlit ruins.

The citadel at the heart of the fort had stood the test of time. It was a two-story building with thick, sloped slabs of sandstone making up the outer walls. Even long after its construction, it stood strong and more than ready to repel heavy cannon fire even now. If anything, it was weird how well preserved the citadel was, considering the rest of the fort was an utter disaster area. Piles and piles of rubble mixed with soil indicated the plethora of buildings which just weren't there anymore, leaving behind only evidence of the less sturdy structures eroded by time.

Farther out was the main wall, forming thick slabs a few meters high, much of the rock eroded or shattered over time, but somewhat more intact than the secondary buildings. The soil here was hard packed, but could be dug into with enough grueling effort, as evidenced by a small garden of technically edible plants taken from the dead trees and transplanted to the side of the Citadel.

Morning light filtered over the wall and through cracks where the stone had given way. The air itself was crisp, not enough to mist but cool enough to bite when I inhaled. Fall was already settling in. Dust, an occasional bit of vegetation, and puddles of water were the only things present, all the wooden portions of fortifications long since taken or disintegrated under Nature's patient assault.

It was easy to forget the outside world at times, especially when we stayed in our home for days at a time in bad storms that swept through. Staying inside, talking, living, playing with Mom, going through lessons, and more, I could think that outside the cat ears and tail, I had been reborn to a single, loving mother in a new world. Sure, it was a bit odd living in the intact ruins of an old fort in repurposed rooms meant to make something resembling a home, but we had fresh water from a deep well in the citadel and a more than solid roof over our heads. It wasn't much, and even by my old life's low standards it was sad, but it was still something close to home.

The eroded ruins surrounding us broke the illusion of normalcy.

My gaze lingered on the rubble strewn in great piles everywhere. I felt my ears fold, and Mom squeezed my hand.

"Mama, why is this place, so, um, sad?" I said, looking around as Mom fiddled with the door. Sad wasn't the right word, but I wasn't sure what it was. Unnerving, sad, melancholy, and more all seemed viable contenders, yet I wasn't sure how to express this feeling about the ruins outside our home.

"It's…[tréigthe], I think," she said, shoving the door closed with a huff. "Before my time, at least. Come on."

I pondered the word. It was a new one, and the pronunciation was odd. From context it seemed to imply not inhabited or abandoned seemed to be part of it, but she said it like there was more meaning there, something I was missing.

Or maybe there wasn't context. On our first outing, I had asked her where we were, being curious about this new world. Mom shrugged and only said we were on an island somewhere in the Northern Dawnlight Expanse and we were living out of an old fort called Fort Isolation. This was naturally meaningless given I didn't know what any of that meant.

We passed the walls quickly enough and emerged into what I think used to be a collection of small buildings forming a fishing village, although it was hard to tell one pile of rubble and soil from another.

Leaving the village, the island rapidly evened out into a small wood forming the island's core. Every single tree was barren, and little leaf litter formed on the ground. I remember one spring waiting for the leaves to return and being disappointed when I learned every tree was dead.

It was rather sad. I liked the Fall.

This isn't to say there was no life in either the ruins or the dead woods. Mosses, vines, blades of grass, and small bushes whose names I was still learning were common enough, poking through cracks in the stone and rubble. Yet even here the seeming normal sight was broken up by the towering gray trunks of trees stretching up like tombstones.

I missed the Fall colors.

My sense of smell seemed mostly similar to my previous life, if significantly improved. I'd been able to appreciate baked bread and wild flows and all that jazz but comparing what I could smell now to what I smelled then was roughly equivalent. Before my eyes had adjusted, I'd picked up the scent of water condensing on cold stone, undercut by a breeze bringing in a faint scent of salt and sulfur from the sea. Even this late into Fall, I could still smell a faint wildflower's sweet scent as the breeze swept over me while the scent of damp sand and soil lingered.

Next, sounds were their own shade of impressive. It wasn't too notable at first but what it lacked in stark difference it made up for in scaling. A bird's fluttering wings had my ears perk up to listen, the rustling of feathers clear to me in a way I'd just missed as a human. Mom briefly paused, eyes searching nearby trees and foliage, but we saw nothing before we moved on.

Overwhelmingly, however, I could hear the sea and its endless waves upon the shore.

It only took a few minutes to leave the fort and its surrounding ruins entirely. Whether that was a testament to Mom's pace or a testament to how tiny it was, I wasn't sure. Yet, we'd soon left them behind for the nearby beach.

I'd never seen the ocean in my old life. My knowledge of the ocean had been fairly limited and confined to documentaries and what I'd read. I'd wanted to visit it, but I had been a landlubber all my life and never got a chance with my impromptu death by murderous Furby. Seeing it now, just like the first time, made me stop, if only for a second. Mom noticed and gave me a moment and a pat.

Sunlight reflected off blue waters that stretched to the horizon. Waves flowed across a distant rocky shore. It never ceases to make me imagine thousands of jewels floating in the water when it was like this. We stood still for a few moments in the breeze, rippling out over the ocean. We stood there for timeless eternity, simply enjoying the sight in a reprieve from the wider day.

Chapter Five: Author's Note

I've always been fascinated by stories where setting itself can tell a mystery, reveal a backstory even beyond what the main novel and its narrative may entail. This chapter probably reflects that a lot.

---

Obligatory author plugin because I'd love to write more but society sadly says I need monies to keep living and satisfy a nascent addiction to commissioning catgirls.

Support me on Patreon, Ko Fi, or Subscribe Star. Check them out for advance chapters, too. Or check out my website for links to my other author accounts, contact, socials, etc.

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[The Radiance's Follower]

I've always been fascinated by stories where setting itself can tell a mystery

Click to shrink...

That's got to be my favorite game genre. From softgames and genDesign games.

 

[HiddenMaster]

That's got to be my favorite game genre. From softgames and genDesign games.

Click to shrink...

It truly is, and honestly, it is the series that made me realize I liked it. I think I had an appreciation for this sort of thing before, but then to actually see it actualized in game form?

Yeah, it left an impact on me.

 

[HiddenMaster]

"We're going to stay near the old docks this time, but don't get on them, the wood's all rotten and I don't trust the stone, either. We have about, let's say an hour, hour and a half to gather before the tide rolls in. Focus on filling your basket with good seaweed," Mom said, adjusting several straps on my clothes as we prepared.

She pulled a small, shiny book from her breast pocket and flicked it open before showing me several pages. On them were well drawn, if worn, colored sketches of a variety of flora and sea life, but of particular interest were the seaweed types. "Go for sawtooth, fairy grass like you see here, but be sure to fill it up even if all you can find is the bad stuff just like I showed you, and be sure to grab any mussels you see, okay?"

She fished a small, dull set of paper scissors out of pocket and handed it to me. I gingerly took it and put it in my basket. I refrained from pouting. She still didn't trust me with knives after I'd nicked myself. I settled for huffing, which made her grin. She pulled out a long, bent metal rod ending in a wicked hook.

The sight of the hook nearly prompted a Pavlovian response in me to drool. The hook meant she was going after the good stuff today.

"Yes, Mama," I said, resisting the urge to lick my lips, but I think she noticed anyway. Mom shook her head with narrowed eyes. She began prowling the rocky foreshore with an energy she didn't usually display.

While Mom hunted for a very unfortunate lobster whose day would certainly be ruined, I began noting the types of seaweed on the beach.

In my old world, I'd been to a few lake shores, but they had been nothing special. They were yet more polluted lakes that may or may not have fish with fingers in them. At best, I'd seen piles of mud or thousands of tiny rocks with algae on them and the occasional plant lining the shore.

Here, green was everywhere, and it was slimy.

I still didn't know half the names for the species of seaweed present on the beach. Mom's little guidebook she read from occasionally didn't mention all of them. I didn't even know if they were a match from my old world or something entirely new. Yet, a single glance around informed me that the patches of seaweed in this area were less than ideal.

"Smellyweed", as I called it because Mom and her guidebook didn't have a name for it, was everywhere. It was in a great big patch stretching out around me and stuck to the biggest rocks and smoother surfaces in great big, self-reinforcing patches. Each one branched out into smaller leaf-like structures that reminded me of rosemary, but infinitely worse. These were what Mom used to make for breakfast this morning. They also faintly smelled of slightly off eggs and sulfur.

Yuck.

I avoided the great patches of smellyweed anchored together in this flat area and made my way along the beach, eventually finding some pools and rocks breaking up the patch. I had a bit of luck finding some strands of sawtooth seaweed that looked like tiny alligators floating in pools of water, but I was only able to find a few strands sticking out from a central anchor root in the rocks. Surrounding them were yet more smellweed colonies creeping in closer. Feeling vindictive, I stomped on the encroaching seaweed and ripped up a few by their anchor point, which was as good as killing them. It did very little to thin the populous little menaces and they'd recover by tomorrow.

I harvested a few strands using the small scissors Mom had given me. The scissors weren't sharp by any means, but were sufficient for cutting off strands of seaweed with some level of effort. I was careful to only cut off parts of the leaves well away from the anchor so it could recover. Sawtooth seaweed tasted okay, if strong in iodine flavor. My overall progress was unfortunately slow, and after five minutes my knees were unhappy with my decision to kneel on dead coral and rocks.

It took me a few minutes to find another seaweed type called birdy's tail hiding in a depression. I remember Mom had found it growing in a new patch a few weeks back. This seaweed formed clusters of great ovals spreading like purple flowers. Unfortunately, neither of us could eat much of it. Uncooked, it had the texture and consistency of rubber. When cooked, it tasted like savory rubber. You could chew and chew and chew and it would never get ground down. If anything, cooking it made it even more rubbery than it already was.

I huffed. I'd wandered for twenty minutes already and mostly found stuff I'd hesitate to step on, nevertheless eat.

Wandering further along the beach, I spotted a glint sticking out from a crevice surrounded with smellyweed. Curious and holding my nose, I investigated further. I poked curiously at first. After a faltering attempt to grab it due to my paws slipping, I eventually got a grip and heaved it into view.

Being brought into the light of day didn't help.

I'm not sure what I found. I thought, maybe, it'd be nice and tasty little crab or other crustacean hiding in the sandy rocks, but instead what I found was a hollow tube nearly as long as my arm and twice as thick. Holding it in the sun, it was surprisingly light despite its size and even I could manhandle it around with ease. Its surface was smooth, with only occasional bumps and nodules on its surface. One side of the tube was wider than the other, while the other narrowed, with parts almost looking like it should interlink with something. Running my hands along it, the only real comparison I had were chitinous carapaces of particularly sturdy beetles, but this was way too big. Maybe it used to be a part of some weird piping system?

"Find anything?" Mom asked out of fucking nowhere making me jump.

I tried to say, "Don't do that!". Instead, I literally hissed. My ears stood up, I crouched low, and I even felt my fur and tail go rigid.

Mom raised her eyebrows. I replayed the sound I'd made in my head and I don't think a puppy from my old world would have been intimidated.

I huffed again and hid my face by turning to only look at Mom out of the corner of my eye. This made Mom smile even more and ruffle my hair.

Eager to put the entire incident behind me, I wordlessly held up the tube I'd found with as big a smile as I could manage for her to see.

Mom's gaze fixed on it and she slowly took the offered tube. Her smile fell as she looked it over. "Where did you find this?"

"Stuck in that hole." I pointed to said hole simply. "Really weird. Do you know what it is?"

Mom nodded. "It's…part of a shell." As she spoke, she fixed her gaze on the sea with a troubled expression.

I followed her gaze, but didn't see anything but waves. "Wow, that'd be a really big crab, huh?" I asked. Maybe it was a fossil and I just hadn't realized it? I'd found some in my old world, but they were always little clam fossils. Something that big would've been neat.

Mom shook her head and let the shell piece drop. "Something like that. Any luck foraging?'

At this, I kicked my feet and huffed. "It's all smellyweed today. I found a few strands of sawtooth, but…" I trailed off.

She nodded, flicking her hair as she bit her lip in a pensive expression. "Well, keep looking. I'm not having much luck, myself," she said. "Maybe we should have tried the southern beach." She patted her own basket. Within I spotted a few grayish blue mussels, all fairly small. I hadn't even seen any shellfish in my own hunt. "I swear, this is not how it was with Granny…"

My ears perked up. "Granny?" I asked, suddenly very curious. The word wasn't literally Granny, but an equivalent in Mom's language.

Mom froze but continued on a second later than she should have. "Oh. I didn't… curious, aren't you?" She fixed meme with an odd contemplative look before she looked away with a sigh.

"When I was a little girl, I went to a beach much like this one with my granny and we were able to forage entire buckets of clams and mussels, even big crabs and lots of fairy seagrass. But, well, it's not the same here. I wish well, it doesn't matter what I wish." Mom hopped up on a large rock I'd have had to spend a minute climbing. "Keep looking, Gwen." She walked off into the more jagged terrain I'd avoided, easily hopping over rocks I'd have had issues with my stubby legs or even as a human adult, but she somehow made it look easy.

I stared after her. Mom didn't talk about family, or the time before she came to this island, very often.

I shook my head and shivered in the breeze.

Our lives out here on the sea weren't normal. There weren't many scenarios where a single mom and her daughter live in total isolation from the rest of society and it meant good things.

Eventually, I turned back to the lapping tide and continued foraging.

The problem with this beach was its uniformity, I decided. This wasn't in terms of landscape. There were rocky shorelines, some sandy areas, and more in between. It varied, and I had to watch my footing constantly just to make my way around.

The issue was that almost everything here was just seaweed.

I was hardly an expert forager in my old world, but I'd taken my share of bio classes and watched Nature documentaries for fun. A rocky beach like this with lots of nooks and crannies to hide in should have been swarming with life. Crabs, shrimp, lobsters, mollusks, clams, oysters, barnacles, cockles, sea squirts, fish, seabirds, and more should have been everywhere on a beach like this one.

Shells crunched beneath my feet. Laying everywhere, in rocks, in sand, were old shells and bits of oysters, clams, mussels, and more. I still hadn't seen any living ones and I didn't think I was that bad. Every pool was nearly empty outside seaweed, the rocks had very few barnacles clinging to them if at all. There were no fish in the pools, very few tiny shrimp, just nothing out here I could find no matter what rock I overturned. The beach just felt barren. Mom had a knack for finding more muscles than I could, but even that felt minimal. If it wasn't for the presence of one seabird flying far overhead, I'd have thought the beach was barren of animal life. It really felt like it was just us, green hate, and the wind.

I hopped over a small patch of smellyweed and did my best to ignore its pungent odor while balancing on the rock. The breeze rustled over pools of briney water and atop seaweed leaves. As usual, smellyweed dominated. Small patches of seaweed clung here and there, but that was about it.

I paused to harvest a bit more sawtooth from another patch, hoping to spread out my foraging when a glint of color caught my eye.

There, hidden beneath the patch I'd just harvested, was a great, big, violet shell. Curious, I brushed away the sand to reveal a clam hiding beneath. I put my hand over it and felt giddy as I saw it was bigger than my hand was. Sure, my hand was small, but that still made this clam enormous!

I dug around the clam, scraping away sand and detritus to free up the clam for its new and completely safe home in my basket that definitely wouldn't lead to a delicious dinner. Once cleared, I gripped the clam and pulled up.

Except it didn't come.

I blinked, and looked back. The clam was still stubbornly there. I tried again and found it stubbornly stuck. I think it even looked smug.

Annoyed, I grabbed it with both hands and pulled. Slowly, the surrounding sand started to come loose before it all gave way. I shot up, recovering as I spun. Feeling absolutely giddy, I looked at the violet clam and drew my finger along its shell before I carefully placed it in my basket. Only then did I look to see what the clam had stuck itself on, expecting a rock or bit of coral.

A stained, grit covered skull greeted me.

At first, I thought it was from a predator. The back was smooth and round, but the ear holes were way higher up than expected. Only the top teeth remained, the bottom mandible lost who knows where. Its teeth had several sharp canines atop, although not as pronounced as I'd expect. It definitely wasn't a devoted herbivore, at least. Other than that, it seemed like any other bit of bone left out and exposed for a while.

I was still exploring the island, but I hadn't seen much animal life outside scattered insects and the odd bird. Some plants, even a distant bird that always flew off on approach, but animals? I hadn't seen any. It was either really old, or had washed up. Something about it stuck out to me as off.

I picked it up, shaking loose more grit and brackish seawater. I traced the teeth in curiosity, tilting the skull around and noting the large, smooth portion at the back of the skull, the cranium I think it was. I absently licked my own teeth and felt the points.

It would be a lie to say my fingers went boneless. My grip on the skull remained firm, yet I felt a peculiar, cool shock race through me as my tail stiffened and ears perked up.

I hadn't seen any skulls in this life, but I had in my previous, in anatomy classes. The teeth had thrown me off as they were too sharp for a human, but the general shape was still close and I wasn't exactly human anymore, was I?

This used to be a person.

Immediately, my gaze shot around, jerking my head back and forth, looking for what, I wasn't sure. I didn't know how this skull got here. It could have been ancient beyond belief and only recently exposed, or it could have been far more recent. Natural causes, disease, accident, or maybe it was a murder, I just didn't know, but my mind raced through the possibilities, all the while I—

A blue blob curiously poked out of the eye socket from the darkness within. I screamed. The skull clattered to the ground. The blobby tendril undulated.

I practically leaped away in the moment.

"Gwen?" Mom shouted. A gray-blue blur bolted in the corner of my eye. I'd only just turned when Mom was upon me, picking me up and checking me over. "What happened?" she asked, worried.

I suddenly very much wished I could have called her as she was halfway down the beach just a second ago. I then realized I'd screamed not because I found a cat folk skull but because a small blob had startled me. My third and final realization was that I did not want to tell Mom that a sea slug scared me.

Wordlessly, I flailed.

Mom looked around just as the sea slug emerged from the eye socket. Her face went from concerned to contemplative to mirthful in a split second. "Oh, Gwen, that's just a sea slug, that's nothing to…" she trailed off, looking closer. Her smile faded to a concerned frown to a cold grimace.

She carefully set me down before kneeling and drawing a sharp survival knife from her belt. "Strange," she muttered. "I could've sworn these were eradicated," she muttered. With one sharp move, she stuck the knife beneath the slug and flung it to a flat rock. She brought her boot down, splattering it. She looked back at me. "Gwen, you did the right thing. Never, ever, touch blue sea slugs with a yellow stripe, okay? Bad things happen if you do," she said. "Maybe I should…" she muttered, before lifting her boot up and quietly swearing.

I absently noted the words for future use, feeling a bit stunned. "But—it's just a sea slug, right? It wasn't dangerous?"

Mom looked pained at my question, but shook her head, sending her curly red bangs waving. "No, honey. It's very, very bad. If you see another in the future, don't even smoosh it, just stay away and come get me, okay?" she said.

"Okay," I said, piecing together. It was bright. Really bright, even glowing, almost. Even as a splatter on the ground it was bright, nearly neon in comparison to the dull rocks of the beach. That likely meant very bad things, in retrospect. I did feel slight vindication for my shriek earlier, at the least.

"Now, as for this," Mom said, kneeling back to examine the skull. "We'll take this back with us. Honey, do you know what this is?"

"It's a [skull]," I said simply, in English.

Mom stared at me. She mouthed the word like it was unfamiliar. "...no, honey, it's [cloigeann]," she said, strangely. "We haven't quite covered that yet, but this…well, he used to be someone, like you or me. We can't leave him like this, so we'll take care of him at home. Let's just call it a day, okay? I'll show you the rites, just later. Did you find any more bones?" I shook my head. "Well, I think we have enough for tonight," Mom said, showing me her basket. I saw a number of mussels. Where she'd found them, I had no idea, but Mom was clearly more successful, but more pressingly was the exceedingly angry blue lobster snapping its claws at my face once I poked my head closer to take a look. "Come along then, we need to prepare."

"Yes Momma," I said, a bit subdued. The sea slug didn't look that dangerous, but that didn't mean anything. I felt a bit of dread imagining what would have happened if I hadn't freaked out when it first showed up.

Suddenly very tired with this day, I drudged after Mom as we went home. At the very least, the lobster would be tasty.

It was only after the tide began to set in that I realized I'd slipped up again.

Chapter Six: Author's Note

This chapter alone inspired me to actually read, watch, and learn about seaside foraging to a degree I never had before. I even tried out a bunch of seaweed types which was an experience given I had never had much before beyond the occasional bit of sushi or something. Turns out, seaweed is awesome. Sea Spinach 2.0.

Also, implications! Laughs ominously.

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[JHMV]

The ear cannal thing on the skull had me googling how a cat's skull is shaped and trying to imagine how it would look like if it was on a catgirl. The ilustrations I found have me thinking that the inner ear cannal would be on the same spot as in a human, but the outer ear cannal would be much longer. But the ilustrations were of a house cat's ear cannal, so that would be much smaller, and I couldn't find what that looks like on a tiger or lion, since that would be more or less the correct size. Also I think the shape of the skull has to change a little bit if the ears can move, since you need space for all the muscles? In conclusion I spent half an hour on google, wikipedia and chatgpt, and I'm less sure of what a catgirl's skull would look like.

Edit: I did find an excellent image of a tiger undergoing some sort of ear treatment:

Spoiler

 

[JHMV]

On the chapter itself: The uniform and abandoned fortress, and the mother raising her daughter alone, made me think it might be a post war situation. Finding a "shell" strengthens that idea, I guess. I'm thinking mamma is either a defector or she fought in the losing side. Or there's some post war tensions that make raising a daughter in complete isolation seem preferable to facing racism?
They're definetly not doing well, if she's giving her daughter her share of the rice congee thing, and she doesn't want to let her know that. She won't even say "I wish this beach was more like the one from my childhood" to her child. Though childhood, I guess.

 

[The Radiance's Follower]

That's one more day of not eating anything but smelly weed. I wonder if they should move from there to somewhere with more food. Or if they find a pair they should breed them. A pair of anything edible really.

and should prob setup a fish farm or something.

I feel like this could be a post apocalyptic setting. There is no way that thing wasn't a pipe of some sort.

 

[Kyunin9]

Sea Slugs that are scary? Sounds like a zombie type situation.

 

[EvilLlamaHypnotist]

Sea Slugs that are scary? Sounds like a zombie type situation.

Click to shrink...

Um, no? It's just poisonous lol.

 

[HiddenMaster]

Fire crackled and coals shifted in the sandstone hearth. The light wore thin even as the aroma of woodsmoke and seafood intensified as the evening wore on. On the table were two plates with numerous empty shells and one very dismembered and utterly delicious remains of a red lobster. The lingering scent of roasted shellfish, rice, and the very limited spices we had left filled the air as fire filled the room with a dancing light along the periphery.

Part of me almost felt decadent. We had not saved one mussel or lobster for tomorrow, or later. Every last scrap we'd gathered today had been eaten. Even Mom had eaten a little more than usual. If anything, Mom had egged me on to eat more.

"Feeling full, Gwen?" Mom asked.

I nodded sleepily, my belly enjoyably stretched. "Stuffed," I murmured. I felt sluggish, my body reluctant to move from my spot. My eyes began to drift closed. A nap sounded lovely about now.

"No space for dessert?" A bag's rustling echoed throughout the room.

My eyes snapped open.

Mom was holding a candy wrapper that had my tail ramrod straight and eyes fixated on an image of chocolates bathed in a minty green wave. Proudly printed on it were the words, 'Magister Monty's Mint Drops'.

I'd had candy twice in this life. Both were taken over what felt like a year ago.

"I was saving this for a special occasion, but if you don't want any…" Mom trailed off.

I stood up, and felt myself instinctually wiggling as I judged optimal pouncing positions. Mom laughed and opened the package, taking a handful for herself before handing me the rest.

I won't deny, I may have made rabid velociraptor noises in the ensuing minute as I devoured the sweet treats. I didn't even like chocolates in my previous life all that much, but something about my life here made them taste so much better than I could ever recall.

A delicious, if sadly ephemeral eternity later, the candy was gone, and Mom was patting my cheeks with a cloth. This time, I really did feel sleep calling me, but Mom's gentle voice pulled me back.

"No, Gwen, not yet." Mom flicked my ears. I opened my eyes to see Mom's eyes glinting in the fire's light. I huffed. I wasn't tired. "Come, sit with me by the fire." Mom said.

"Do you know why we ate so freely tonight, sweetie?" Mom asked as I sat before her.

I shook my head. "You said we were going to do something special, but hadn't said what was special about today," I told her. If some accusation was in my words, then I could hardly be blameless. She'd told me that in the morning hours ago and I hadn't forgotten.

Mom looked pained. "Indeed I did. Today is a special day. Today marks the fifth anniversary of your birth," she said.

Wait, it was my birthday? But, we'd never even celebrated it before, how did she—

"We shouldn't… well, being here… it's not ideal, I don't have the tools, I don't have the resources, I don't have the support I should, the family we should. It's just us out here, Gwennie," Mom said, her tones low as she her firsts tight. "I've held off on this rite. I've…I've wronged you, Gwen, and I don't think you even know how," Mom explained, telling me so much and nothing at all at once. "When…if — no, when you are older," she said, hissing in emphasis, "You… you'll have reason to hate me, I think."

I was confused. I didn't know what she was talking about. I wasn't dumb, I knew our situation wasn't right, but this just raised far more questions than I had answers.

How could she have even wronged me? She held me, gave me love, cared for me, and more when I was helpless, taught me my first words in this world, and gave me a start that, if it wasn't ideal, then it was more than acceptable.

It didn't take much further deliberation before I stepped up to her and hugged her waist. She briefly stiffened, before hugging me back.

She ran her hand through my hair. "I held off, far longer than I should," Mom explained, telling me nothing I understood. "But, I can see now, I was waiting for things to change, for help to arrive, but it's just us two, now. I've wasted too much time. It is time you were recognized," she said.

She pulled a dagger from a sheath on her belt. I stiffened at the sight and felt the slightest race of worry pulse through me.

Unlike the ones she used for hunting and foraging, this one remained pristine, like she'd just gotten it out of the factory, or had just polished it. She pointed to the hearth. "This will take a bit. Wait here," she ordered.

I blinked but hesitantly followed her instructions. It wasn't a place I normally sat unless I was really cold as was too close to the fire to be comfortable, surging past warmth and into hot territory just short of searing. But I trusted Mom.

Nonetheless, I felt my body beginning to sweat to the crackle of flames that seemed more intense than before.

Mom rummaged on a nearby work table before coming to sit before me with a bowl full of liquid. I immediately noticed something off.

"Mom," I said, hair standing on end. Her hand had a rough cloth wrapped around it, already stained with blood.

"It's fine, Gwen," Mom said. "It's part of the ritual, and I can take it." Her words felt airy, almost dual toned beneath a deeper sound that reminded me of a growl heard only by people who walk dim lit roads in the dead of night. "Tonight, I will give you my family's crest."

Her words sent a chill down my back. Her words… her words weren't normal. They felt dense. My eyes shot around the room. Even the shadows seemed deeper than I remembered while the flame burned brighter.

I felt my ears folding, but she didn't comfort me. She just mixed the bowl full of something viscous. I held my tail. She paused, if only a second, but resumed mixing the bowl.

She dipped her fingers into the bowl, finger tips coming away red. She brought them to my face. I flinched, closing my eyes.

"Look, Gwen, open your eyes," Mom said. I opened my eyes to see Mom's face close to mine, so close I could feel her warmth. "I will always care for you, my little miracle," she said. "Give me your hand."

It was a command and a plea. Outside, the wind wailed, kept only barely muffled by thick sandstone walls that I now felt were keeping something out. The fire moved closer. I raised my hand.

My mother began to paint. As her brush moved, a strange energy filled the air and made all my hair from my paws to the back of my neck stand on end.

I don't know how long she painted. She seemed focused upon it in a way I had trouble understanding. Everytime I thought she'd just covered my hand she worked on it more, adding patterns within patterns. I felt like I could only see the surface of what she had painted: an enclosed circle with a spiral sigil inside I didn't recognize from any of our grammar lessons. It almost looked like an emerging, skeletal hand.

At times I felt almost like interrupting, asking what she was doing, but always hesitated in the end. The air felt too stiff, and interrupting felt… wrong, somehow.

Slowly, she moved up my arm, tracing a path only she knew. I glanced and felt a surge of excitement. Her eyes were glowing. They weren't orbs of emerald fire, but they were like an everwatchful gleam from a distant star.

She finished tracing my bare arm, went over my shoulder, and came to my face. Then, with almost shockingly easy movements compared to the strenuous focused detail of her other lines, painted two lines across first one cheek, then the other.

I felt something shift, like a lock moving into place. My skin tingled with a faint burning sensation. All of the markings receded, taking with them the burning sensation, barring the one on my hand and I think those on my face.

For the first time in a long while, Mom spoke. I didn't know the words. I don't think Mom knew, either. They felt familiar, but rougher, almost archaic to what we spoke. Yet, they were intelligible.

"To the first queen of the hunt, I stand before you as the last of my line. I, Eliza of House Mor, engrave my crest upon my daughter, Gweneth, and welcome her into my House with all honors. Let her be recognized in the Halls of our ancestors forever more."

Mom looked so happy. She gently stroked my cheek. I leaned into her touch even as my body felt odd, yet the warmth of her hand was so reassuring I couldn't bring myself to worry about what was going on.

She collapsed.

I screamed.

~~~
​

Days later…

Mom still wasn't awake.

I did what I could to make her comfortable. She was too heavy for me to drag back to her bed, so I instead brought our bedding to her. I did manage to somewhat roll her away from the fire, but that was the best I could manage.

I put a gray pillow under her head, and a thin blanket over her body. I brushed her hair out of her face so it wouldn't bother her in her sleep, and tried to tuck in the blanket around her as best I could. I then sat nearby, arms over my knees, gaze trained on Mom in the dying light of the fire and waited.

I waited a long time.

Waiting wasn't easy. In my old life, I'd never had patience, even if I did master the art of lazing around while putting off work.

In this life, when I wasn't sleeping, my body wanted to move. I just felt so energetic sometimes that I wanted to sprint from place to place, run around, jump, play, do something, anything, to burn off some of that endless wellspring of energy.

It was so bizarre to feel this much motivation to move around and feel jittery if I didn't, yet I stayed nearby, gaze locked onto my mom's face.

Fear gnawed at me. I pictured it like a worm.

Except, it wasn't one of those cute little earthworms. Instead, it was like the parasites I remember seeing pictures of in my previous life, long, squirmy, and lined with teeth. It squirmed inside me, wiggling, shifting through my belly to my chest, keeping me unsettled even as I remain trained on Mom. At some point, the worm became two.Sometimes they would bite at my belly in surges of anxiety, like it was sampling me in short bursts of cold waves spreading throughout my body.

Imagining it helped. It let me visualize things, and visualization always helped. It was easy enough to identify why. This was the first time in my life I truly felt alone.

I couldn't wake Mom up.

She was the first person I'd seen in my new life. She was there to stroke my hair, to hold me when I was cold, to play tag with me, to show me the basics of a language any linguist back on Earth would murder to sample, and far, far more. She was the towering pillar in my life, a beacon of stability even when I was too small to move on my own.

Now she was unconscious and wouldn't wake up.

At some point I tended to the fire. Mom usually handled it, but we had some logs ready so I tossed them in and stoked the flames. I eventually had to go relieve myself, but I was back as fast as I could. I felt a brief ray of excitement when I came back, thinking Mom had surely woken up in the five minutes I was gone, but that didn't happen. She hadn't even shifted. I could barely tell she was breathing.

I sat back down and waited.

I stared at my hand. More specifically, the new thing on my right hand.

It looked like an artist's surrealist impression of a flower trapped inside a golden circle if I squinted. I compared it to the one on Mom's hand, and saw they were very similar, if different. Hers had many more petals than mine did. What even were they? Mom had said a crest, so it was likely related to our family, but I couldn't say much beyond that. Mom was horribly reluctant to talk about other people even though there had to be more. It wasn't like she'd just woken up here on this island. We had to come from somewhere.

I could've sworn there'd been more markings, but everything seemed to have faded back to just the markings on my hand. I looked back at Mom. She didn't look peaceful or content. She was almost perfectly still.

My breath quickened before I made myself slow down.

I didn't want to be alone.

The realization wasn't anything new. I don't think anyone wanted to be alone, in this life or my old one. Yet, there was a sharp difference, even going beyond situations.

In my old world, I craved company on occasion but could be fine for long periods of time alone, even needing some time to myself more often than not. Here, I might have additional perspective and knowledge compared to someone my age, but I still had the body of a little girl. Just a few hours with Mom out of action left me nervous, stressed and jittery. I wanted to hug her and to have her run her hand through my hair. She was the only person on this entire island. She was the only person I'd seen since Mr. Muscles.

She was the only family I had.

I felt my breath catch. I tried to hold back an emotional breakdown, and failed. I should have been better.

I wasn't.

I cried until I couldn't, and eventually fell asleep.

Chapter Seven: Author's Note

This chapter is, ironically, where I think Eliza fully came into being as her own character for me. I had her backstory down, a lot of world building and such, but I think this is where I finally got completely in tune with her as a character, and it ended up being a lot more emotional than I expected.

Also fun news for core supporters on my patreon: I was energetic this past week and got a bunch of advance chapters up, all the way up to chapter 13, so go check it out if you'd like to support me a bit. :3

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Obligatory author plugin because I'd love to write more but society sadly says I need monies to keep living (and support my growing addiction to commissioning catgirl art)

Support me on Patreon, Ko Fi, or Subscribe Star. Check them advance chapters uploaded every weekend, too. Or check out my website for links to my other author accounts, contact, socials, etc. Anything is appreciated :3

---

​

 

[The Radiance's Follower]

That took a turn. Mom is such an L. She should at least explained stuff to her daughter. Do we even know if she will ever wake up or if you need to do something special. Or just kill her and go.

 

[Orchamus]

Ow, that's gonna be a big trauma The ritual was properly eerie too

 

[JHMV]

TFTC

She collapsed.

I screamed.

Click to shrink...

Oh no

Days later…

Mom still wasn't awake.

Click to shrink...

OH NO

Don't kill cat mom!

 

[xbox432]

Interesting story... The MC isn't all powerful, but they also don't come across as whiny or incompetent, so it seems like it will be fun to follow them. Bit of mystery in the setting as well. Curious to see if Catmom is from an exiled family or something.

Also, yeah, if you see a brightly colored animal it is best to avoid them. Colors like that are either a warning, or an imitation of a warning.

Lastly, the "piece of shell" that she found... maybe there's something in the area eating up all the wildlife? Or with the trees being dead too, maybe the island is just cursed? I'm looking forward to finding out!

That took a turn. Mom is such an L. She should at least explained stuff to her daughter. Do we even know if she will ever wake up or if you need to do something special. Or just kill her and go.

Click to shrink...

Good god dude, have SOME empathy at least. Seriously, kill her mom just because things became inconvenient?

 

[The Radiance's Follower]

Good god dude, have SOME empathy at least. Seriously, kill her mom just because things became inconvenient?

Click to shrink...

Reading comprehension is a skill you are clearly lacking or you are just trying to rage bait.

 

[HiddenMaster]

Reading comprehension is a skill you are clearly lacking or you are just trying to rage bait.

Click to shrink...

Good god dude, have SOME empathy at least. Seriously, kill her mom just because things became inconvenient?

Click to shrink...

Know I'm not exactly a mod here, but um, was not expecting this sort of response and I'd rather people don't get angry at each other in the comments? I don't want to spoil too much given I know I left things on a cliffhanger here, but I think I can say without spoilering too much that there is more going on that will be revealed with future chapters.

I have most of Arc One written as it stands, just editing it out for more public releases and such.