"When I die let my ashes float down the Green River
Let my soul roll on up to the Rochester dam
I'll be halfway to Heaven with Paradise waitin'
just five miles away from wherever I am."
-John Prine


The kitchen was warm and soft that morning and Hiroko sat calmly, watching her grandmother fix breakfast. So who is this Fordo-san?" she inquired. "You have told me so much. When can I meet him?"

"Oh, I don't know." Hiroko replied. "I've been trying to find a time but I'm not sure if Basil would be inclined to allow us."

"Why ever not?"

The girl pondered this for a time. "Well, what if something were to happen while we were away? What if we would be needed for a raid or something?"

"I'm not inclining you to stay forever," stated the grandmother matter-of-factly. "I just would like a visit, that's all. I want to know who you're spending time with."

"You're starting to sound like my mother."

Her grandmother scoffed. "That was not called for, Neko-chan."

Hiroko smiled. "I know." They sat quietly for a time, both sipping from cups of strong green tea and pondering the world they were living in. Outside, a jay-bird perched on the great Hackberry and called to its kin. "Do you really want to meet him that much?"

"Of course I do. Wouldn't you?"

Hiroko smiled. "Yes, I suppose so." Silence fell around them once more.

"Why is he staying with Basil?"

Hiroko set down her cup and thought for a minute. "He's got some sort of condition that allows him to re-grow tissues really fast. I don't know what it's called, if anything. Basically, he can't grow older and he can't lose limbs or get sick or anything like that. He can't tell anyone, though. Not even his parents. He doesn't think they'd understand. He doesn't feel safe much, even though nothing can really hurt him. He's just worried that someone else will get hurt. And he doesn't want that to happen." Her grandmother whispered something inaudible. "What did you say, Grandmother?"

"Hyakumankai Ikita Neko."

Hiroko's eyebrows furrowed. "What is it? I know what it means, but what was it about?"

"It is a story, child. A story about a great cat that had died a million times and lived a million times. A cat who never cried, no matter how many people cried for him." The woman rose with great care and went to the window to watch the jay-bird in her yard. "He had belonged to children and grandmothers, magicians and burglars, sailors and kings. But he was never happy because he hated children and old women and theft and magic and power and seas. But he lived on. And whenever he died, the people would cry for him until they had no more tears and they would bury him someplace safe."

"What happened to the cat?" Hiroko's keen eyes were focused on the woman's back. She recalled this story vaguely, but couldn't remember the ending.

The woman at the window took a deep breath. "One day, the cat became a stray. He was finally happy because nobody owned him. He was free."

This made her smile somehow. "Do you think Fordo-san will ever be free? Do you think he won't have to worry about anything?"

The woman took a deep breath and ignored what else was happening inside of her, pulling on a smile for her dear granddaughter. "I'm sure he will."

After Hiroko had left, the woman sat down and wondered about the story and the girl and her boy. She knew that--somewhere inside her--Hiroko did not think of this boy as just another boy. There was love in her voice when she spoke of him, a certain longing that was easy to recognise. She feared this slightly.


All the female cats wanted to be the cat's wife.
There were cats that gave him huge fish.
Others gave him premium mice.
Some cats brought him rare catnip as a gift.
Other cats licked his tiger fur for him.
The cat said to all of them,
"I have died a million times! This is ridiculous now!"
The cat loved himself more than anyone else.


Hiroko had gone through much in her short life. She had known before the girl was born that life would not be as planned as it had been wished by her parents. But Hiroko had grown now: she was no longer a child. She was no longer frail.


But there was just one beautiful white cat
that didn't even look at the cat.
The cat went over next to the white cat and told her,
"I died a million times!"
The white cat just said, "Oh."
The cat became slightly upset since he loved himself.
The next day, and the day after that,
the cat went over to the white cat and told her,
"You haven't even finished one life."
The white cat just said, "Oh."


She knew it to be unfair for this girl to have gone through so much. Many would never understand her or even try to. People feared things that they didn't know and ignored beauty that wasn't surface deep. She thought her granddaughter to be most beautiful, even with her blue skin. After all, that was the only strangeness on her face. But did this boy think so as well? She thought of this for the remainder of the day, pondering and wondering and attempting to find any meaning, but none came. In the evening, she received a call from Hiroko.

"I spoke with Basil. He said that we can visit tomorrow, if you would like." There was a breathlessness to the word "we" that the woman carefully noted.

"That would be lovely. When will you be here?"

"About ten or so. Noon at the latest. I'll see you then."


One day, the cat did three somersaults in front of the white cat
and said, "I once was a cat for a circus."
The white cat just said, "Oh."
The cat started to say, "I have had a million-"
then asked the white cat, "Can I be at your side?"
The cat said, "Yes."
The cat stayed by the white cat for a long time.
The white cat had many beautiful kittens.
The cat no longer dared to say, "I have had a million,"
for the cat loved the white cat and the kittens.
Even more than himself.


The next morning, Hiroko arrived at the front door as promised. Beside her was the boy she had spoken of so much. He was tall and well-built, looking genteel and assertive. He bowed to her and attempted to greet her in her native language, failing miserably. She noted how his brown hair was naturally disheveled and his brilliant eyes seemed to speak on their own, spouting out secrets he wasn't aware of even considering.


As time passed, the kittens grew up and all went away.
The cat, satisfied, said, "They became great stray cats now."
The white cat said, "Yes," and softly purred her throat.
The white cat became a grandmother cat.
The cat purred his throat even more softly.
The cat thought that he wanted to live forever with the white cat.


She watched them all day. They were very close and seemed to understand each other well. There was a certain security to their tones during conversation, a certain stability that the other gave. The grandmother watched all day and understood, saying nothing to them of the secrets the other held, for she was the only one to see them. She knew of Hiroko's abilities and had often watched how they were controlled. Never did the girl try to take from him what he was not displaying freely. More than ever, she was sure of what this meant. And it made her smile more.

She noted also how the boy would look at her granddaughter, how his chair would be placed at the table for lunch, how his hand would move while they sat before the screen while watching from her anime collection. His glance was soft; his chair was close; his hand was yearning. But he never touched, never asked, despite his own wishes. And she smiled even more, for she knew that he held something inside of himself that he couldn't let go of and couldn't speak of. Not now, at least.

As they went to leave, she hugged her granddaughter tight and told her to be careful riding home. Hiroko thanked her a thousand times and promised to phone later. The boy bowed again, but before he could speak, she did.

"Secret safe here, Fordo-san." Then she smiled secretively and returned his bow. His eyes seemed to widen slightly as though he wanted to ask, but he didn't. And she understood.

What was that about?" They were back in the car and Hiroko was pulling out of the long drive.

"I don't know," replied Fordo, but he smiled at the woman on her front stoop and wondered if he really was that obvious.


One day, the white cat quietly stopped moving next to the cat.
The cat cried for the first time in his life.
Night came, morning came,
night cam again, and morning came again.
The cat cried a million times.
Morning came, night came
and one afternoon, the cat stopped crying.
The cat, next to the white cat, quietly stopped moving.







The cat never came back to life again.

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I know this sounds counter-productive, but Happy Holidays.

--Kiri!--