10,000 Strokes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

===============

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looked at the screen and saw: jhhiiiiiiiisssssa

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

===============

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